The Governess

by Camille Oster

  Or maybe the missing girls were pregnant and feared the consequences. It was a possibility, and she wanted that to be true, but her instincts still insisted that something very bad had happened. Friends of young girls tended to know if something along those lines had occurred. In a village like that, someone would know if a young girl stepped out with a man. It always came out, in the end.

  No one came to help and Estelle led the horse toward the stable, where she unhooked the carriage and stabled the horse. At home with her father, she had done this a hundred times and knew well how to stable and comfort a horse. Thomas was tending to Giji, still lamenting that he couldn't saddle her up and ride her out. Estelle just wasn't prepared to take the chance when she was so ill-equipped to read the situation herself. All the talk of revolts and torture had her mind spinning as it was.

  The main doors weren't locked and she had been right—Balog wasn't there. Quickly, she ran around and lit as many candles as she could as the darkening skies made the castle gloomy. Really, it was gloomy on the brightest of days, but she felt it more keenly today.

  She led them to the parlor where she stoked the dying fire. Thomas was still insistent on teaching her sword skills and if that was what it took to distract him, she was happy to comply.

  In his absence as he went searching for swords, she could see from the window, the villagers down in the valley, searching in a similar way as before. They were too far down for her to make out anyone she knew, like the professor. Some carried lanterns as they walked in a line across the valley. Did they also suspect it was a fruitless activity? Whoever took these girls, hid them well and the searchers would be unlikely to find anything.

  Taking a deep breath, Estelle kept watching. The professor's implications returned to her. They had to be ludicrous. The man had an ill perception of the count and Estelle wondered what had precipitated it. His suggestion that the count was somehow involved was fanciful. The professor clearly disliked the count and it was something she couldn't recall from before Countess Vaczy came to visit. Perhaps she had spun tales in the professor's ear as well.

  For someone who was apparently interested in marrying him, she did a great deal to harm his reputation. What point was there in doing so with the professor? And what had the woman accused him of? She was a horrid woman, Estelle concluded.

  A bang behind her made her heart painfully skip a beat. She whipped around to see Thomas holding two swords. "You scared the life out of me."

  "Sorry," he said. "I slipped."

  "That happens when we run, doesn't it?"

  The last thing she wanted to do was play with swords, but she had promised.

  "Now, take your sword and hold it like this," Thomas said, showing her a stance.

  Estelle internally swore to herself, but did as he commanded. "I am not sure I will ever need such a stance, but compared to me, you are a master."

  "Mr. Nemes doesn't take female students."

  "Perhaps we are breaking the rules, then."

  "Well, if a fene comes, we have to defend ourselves."

  "Thomas, there are no such things like fenes."

  "Probably, but if there is, you are the one at risk being that you are a young woman, and it seems to prefer eating those."

  Estelle couldn't help the chill running up her spin, then chided herself for her utter silliness. There were definitely no such things as fenes—but there was something preying on the young women nearby. She did appreciate that Thomas wanted to teach her how to defend herself. It showed that he cared for her welfare and she was touched by it.

  "Alright," he said. "Now anticipate my move and block. You do know how to block, don't you?"

  "Well, I am assuming I get my sword in the path of yours."

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Swing at me and I'll show you how to block."

  It went against every grain in her body to swing a sword at him. She gently moved it in his direction and he blocked it with ten times more zeal. "We'll be here all day if you are going to move at the pace of a tortoise."

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  He chuckled. "I doubt you could. When you do this for real, you will want to hurt the thing attacking you. Why else would you pick up a sword?"

  There was a certain logic in what he was saying, even if she couldn't bring herself to believe she would ever be close to useful with a sword. Surely nothing could sneak into the castle. It was built to be a defensive place, but then nothing was what it seemed. The rooms all had secret doors, there were portraits with eye holes and maybe even multitudes of entrances into the castle. Someone could be sneaking around, walk more or less right beside her and she wouldn't even know.

  Estelle tried to pay attention to Thomas' direction, but her mind was too distracted. She felt like she needed to think, but was stuck having to keep an eye on the sharp blades swinging around the parlor.

  Thomas had finally had enough and they put their swords away. "Women make poor swordsmen," he concluded.

  "I think some make very good ones, but perhaps not I."

  "You are lucky I am here to protect you."

  "I am indeed," she smiled. He really was a kind boy.

  The count certainly wasn't there to protect her and the castle. Especially now that it seemed the villagers were so angry, and there was potentially a madman running around the district. But then the professor seemed to imply the threat was much closer to home—inside the castle walls, in fact. Another shudder ran up her spine. She didn't believe it, of course, but the thought of danger so close, in the very place she slept, made her intensely uncomfortable.

  Chapter 20:

  * * *

  Supper was a hurried affair with simple cold cuts of meat and bread. As expected, no trace of the second girl had been found and the searching stopped as darkness descended like a dropping curtain across the valley.

  As the moon rose, light reflected off the snow, lighting up the valley in eerie blue tones. Estelle's eyes searched where she could see as she stood by the window in her nightgown. The hope in her that refused to die was aching to see a girl run along the river to get home. Not that she could make out a girl, but she could likely see a figure running through the snow.

  The candle that lit her bedroom sat on the table, casting shifting light across the walls. The draft in the room refused to let the flame rest.

  A crackle from the hearth fired a small burning ember into the room, the noise bouncing off the walls. It was warm enough, although the fire would die down during the night, leaving the room freezing cold in the morning. The count did not employ enough staff to tend fires first thing in the morning. He seemed to prefer a small household.

  She couldn't quite tear herself away from the window, her mind wishing for relief from her worry, although if she saw someone steal across the valley, it could well be the monster that now preyed on this village. The thought made her shiver. How horrible would it be to witness the man sneak across the valley to enact whatever nefarious plans he had? There would be little she could do about it if it happened. She had no way of warning the village, unable to get word there in time.

  Luckily, nothing seemed to move down below, except a deer, who cautiously wandered across the ground, stopping intermittently to listen for any predators coming. Poor thing, being stuck out there with wolves always having to look over its back to guard against a predator. As were all of them at the moment.

  Thomas implying that the fiend could come into the castle sat even worse with her. A place like this, no one was likely to hear. She didn't even know where the servants slept, or even the count, for that matter. Thomas was too far away to hear her if someone accosted her in the middle of the night. She could scream bloody murder and no one would be the wiser.

  Biting her tongue, she kept her vigil by the window, even as she knew she was being silly. The chances of her seeing anything were low, but she felt too agitated to sleep. Where could this man be coming from? There was nothing around but the village itself. But he
was coming from somewhere. A cold tingle ran up her spine at the thought.

  And Thomas, what if this awful man decided to attack Thomas. He was just as isolated as she was. She had urged him to lock his door, as she had, but she also knew that there were walls within walls here, corridors where people could sneak through, come and go without being observed.

  With fearful eyes, she looked along the dark paneling of her bedroom, trying to determine if there was an entrance somewhere she couldn't see. What point was a lock on the door when another entrance let anyone pass into the room? Luckily, there were no portraits with eyes she would be suspicious of. The painting in her room was of a nice agricultural scene, with a hay cart and horse. She wasn't sure she could tolerate any painted eye watching her at the moment.

  Walking over to the wall, she tested every bit of paneling to see if she could find a latch, something that would open a secret door. Although, she had no idea what she would do if she did. There was nothing, and she wasn't sure whether she was pleased or disappointed. Sometimes it was better knowing something was there, than not being sure.

  There was little she could do about it so she got into bed, slipped between cold sheets that would eventually warm. The bed itself was very old, carved mahogany with religious scenes along its base and headboard. Angels and devils, pitched in endless combat.

  It seemed the devil had the upper hand in this village at the moment, she thought as she blew out the candle. The light from the fire danced across the walls more actively than the candle's flame, casting moving shadows as if enacting the battle scene from her headboard.

  She was safe, she repeated to herself. The castle was built to protect and it could only be someone who knew it well that could make their way into it if the doors were locked, and the count kept the number of those people low. Not even an army could breech these walls unless they were invited.

  Tiredness nipped at her consciousness, urging her to let go of her fear and embrace sleep. Today had been an awful day. Something had shifted because it had become clear that someone was attacking them. She prayed this worry would not follow her into her dreams.

  *

  A mere squeak wormed into Estelle's sleeping mind and it took some time for her to register it, understand that it wasn't part of a dream. Perhaps a mouse was exploring her room, looking for food. Again, it sounded, but it wasn't so much a squeak as a creak, and it wasn't in her room. More like as if someone was walking across floor planks, and another. There was someone walking along the hall outside.

  Silently, she sat up and listened, the silence almost ringing in her ears. There was nothing. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as her eyes shifted to the doorknob hidden by darkness at the corner of the room. Would she even see if the door opened? Would it squeak? The fire had died down. It must be closer to dawn than midnight.

  Who would be walking around this part of the castle in the darkness? There was definitely no light shining through the crack below the door from a person's candle or lantern. If someone was walking around, they were doing so in darkness, which instantly made it suspicious. Goose-bumps rose across her arms, the little hairs standing on end.

  Part of her wanted to lie down and draw her blankets up around her, block out the world. Another creak was heard, but more distant this time. Old castles were noisy, but it had sounded so much like a step coming down on wooden floors.

  If there was a madman sneaking around the castle, he seemed to have left her alone. How would a madman know where to find anyone in this castle as there were a great many more rooms than there were people?

  Now she heard a scrape somewhere and she jumped, pulling her bedsheets closer to her chest. It wasn't near her room, but somewhere down the corridor. That could not have been the wooden structures within the castle settling, could it? Panic flared through her, gripping her mind. There was someone in the castle, wandering around in darkness.

  Common sense tried to calm her and the breath that was now rushing in and out of her lungs. It could be anything—a mouse, a cat. Maybe a cat chasing a mouse, bumping into furniture in the process. She was being utterly ridiculous, but it was harder to convince her heart, which still beat powerfully in her chest, almost aching with the fright that had spread like icy water through her veins.

  She had to calm; she was being fanciful.

  Thomas, her mind shouted and any ideas of fancy left her. Cats and mice be damned, but if there was someone, they might go after Thomas, or he might be scared to death. Hopefully he'd locked his door, but he was forgetful of such things sometimes, or overconfident—maybe even foolish enough to invite the creature in in the hope of subduing him. There were times when little boys did not accept their limitations, thinking themselves invincible.

  Reaching for her matches, with shaking hands she lit the candle, but decided the lantern was better. Obviously, she'd had disturbing dreams and was now fooling herself that someone was creeping around the castle halls in the dark. Utter rubbish, but she felt she had to check on Thomas.

  The lock made a loud noise as she turned it, holding the lantern in her left hand. The hall appeared empty outside as she peered out. She wasn't intending to go wandering around, but she just wanted to check on Thomas. She wouldn't be able to settle again if she didn't.

  Maybe it was a ghost, she thought to herself, some remnant that haunted the halls of this castle. Ghosts didn't need light to find their way. Estelle didn't actually believe in ghosts, but this time of night, when she felt so utterly alone in an alien world, she was prepared to welcome all sorts of ridiculous notions.

  Barefoot, she sneaked across the floor, trying to be as quiet as possible. There were no lights other than her lantern and it cast shadows across the walls, shifting in the opposite direction from her as if they were reaching for her. Stopping, she listened intently and heard nothing. Cold drafts wafted across her arms as she moved, the hairs on her arm rising with chill.

  She should be back in her warm bed, and would be as soon as she completed this task she had given herself. Stepping as fast and as light as she could, she ascended a set of stairs to reach Thomas' floor. Again, there was no sound and she swung the lantern around in every direction, seeing nothing but darkness. Nothing moved.

  Light steps moved her toward Thomas' room, but seeing a moving light and a figure made her heart stop. Blind panic surged and her mind raced, urging her to run. Run, was the only thought she could muster, but she also couldn't make herself move. She was frozen, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, even as she realized she was only seeing herself in a mirror. Damned mirror. It scared her half to death. She actually wanted to hit something she was so angry—mostly at her own foolishness. What was she doing running around the halls in the darkest part of the night, scaring herself with her own reflection? Was she prepared to utterly give herself over to silly notions?

  Still, she refused to return to her room without checking that Thomas' door was locked, even if none of this made any sense.

  Chapter 21:

  * * *

  Estelle froze as a distant clattering sound filtered along the corridor. Intently, she listened, trying to discern where the noise came from. It was definitely not imaginary. Creaks and scrapes might be her overactive imagination, but this sound was prolonged and it was definitely not her imagination. Her mouth had gone bone dry as she listened, her ears ringing with the silence.

  More noises were heard and even distant voices.

  Staring down the darkness, Estelle listened, each noise only confirming that something was happening in the castle in the middle of the night. She blinked for a moment, thinking of what she should do. This was serious now. There was someone in the castle. Those were unmistakably voices she’d heard.

  But this was unlikely to be some madman crawling around the halls, unless he was talking to himself, but it had the flow and stops of a conversation. The voices were too distant to hear any actual words.

  Carrying her lantern ahead of her, Estelle walked down
the corridor toward where the voices were coming from. She took care not to scare herself with her own reflection again as she walked past the mirror, eventually emerging silently on the mezzanine floor around the great entrance hall. Two figures were below, barely lit in the darkness of the castle. One of them was clearly Balog, but the other was too darkly dressed to see, until her lantern drew his attention and he looked up at her. It was the count. In a way, she was relieved because the master of the house returning wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, even if at such a curious hour.

  His eyes traveled down her form, taking in her nightgown, then he looked back up at her almost belligerently. "Your presence is not required, Miss Winstone," he said sharply and dismissively.

  It occurred to her that she was actually standing around in her nightgown. "I heard a noise."

  "I suggest you return to your room immediately."

  He looked away from her as if he were disgusted. She felt the censure like a sting across her skin. The two men walked out of the main doors, leaving them open. Cold wind rushed into the entrance hall, the smell of snow whirling around the cavernous space, icing her bare arms.

  Taking a step back, she lowered her lantern. He had no interest in the noises she heard or the concern that had driven her to check on Thomas' welfare. She couldn't figure out whether she was embarrassed or angry. And why was he returning home at such an ungodly hour and scaring her half to death? He must have traveled through the night.

  Quickly, she returned to her room, but made a detour past Thomas' and checked that his door was indeed locked. Her sheets were cold by the time she slipped into her own bed. She had little idea what time it was, but knew she had poor chances of falling asleep again. Staring at the ceiling, she lay awake.

  *

  Estelle was tired by the time she made it down to breakfast. Thomas had slept well and had been completely unaware of strange noises in the night, or, apparently, the arrival of his father. "Father is back," he said brightly.