The Governess

by Camille Oster

  Instead, she heard thuds on the floor. Someone was pulling books off the shelf. If they kept going, they would find the latch. Maybe the professor understood there was a door there, but didn't know how to get in.

  More thuds and each reverberated through her, making her flinch. Then a voice, male and younger. Definitely not the professor. As silently as she could, she breathed a sigh of relief. None of the villagers likely knew of the hidden passages, or would consider there would be one behind the bookshelf. Hopefully this person was only interested in vandalism of the count's wonderful book collection.

  A shushing noise, then a sharp command was heard and everything quieted.

  "Come now, Miss Winstone. There is no point in hiding. We will find you."

  He was in the hall, so she surmised he didn't know she was in the library. So even if he knew she had retreated into one of the hidden areas, he didn't know which one. Would probably assume one off the salon. This was good. This was in their favor. The professor didn't know where they were, and hopefully he didn't know any of the secret entrances.

  There was silence as if he was listening for her. She sat utterly still.

  "We do not wish to harm you," he said ingratiatingly.

  With a roll of her eye, Estelle swore silently, wishing God would strike that man down for all the evil he had done.

  Estelle felt herself start to relax. Relax might not be the best word, but the knife's edge suspense that held her hostage was releasing a little. They were safe, for now. Their hiding place seemed to be secure.

  Even the person flinging books off the shelves seemed to have found something else to focus on. She couldn't hear anymore footsteps right outside the door in front of her.

  Chapter 34:

  * * *

  The secret corridor had a musty smell. Her eyes grew used to the dark and she stayed sitting with the count's head on her lap. There was still noise in the castle, the mob continuing its searching and destruction. Enough time had passed that she assumed they were safe, but there was always a chance they could be found, if not by the door in the library, then by some other door down the passageway. Surely there were other entrances to the passageway.

  If luck held, they would not be found, but then she had to ask how long this would go on. If no one was coming to rescue them, this could go on until they starved. But raging anger usually burned itself out. Hopefully reason would re-exert itself and they would calm down.

  Estelle's heart had finally slowed and she felt exhausted from fear and stress. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes. The aftereffects of the fright was too much to allow her sleep, but she could will herself to relax. The air was cold around her and the chill stung, but that could not be helped.

  After an indeterminable amount of time, the count stirred, moaning slightly as he tried to lift his hand. Estelle's eyes snapped open and she quickly pressed a finger to his lips. "Hush," she said quietly.

  The count's eyes focused and shifted to her, then looked around with confusion. Estelle's relief that he had returned to consciousness was enormous. He was alright and had emerged out of his stupor. She wasn't alone in this anymore.

  "What—?" he started, but her fingers quickly returned to his mouth, shaking her head. Looking up, she listened to see if anyone was milling about outside the door.

  "The villagers have come to the castle looking for you," she whispered. "Professor Szousa has convinced them you are responsible for the disappearances. They are here right now."

  "Thomas?"

  "I told him to run and he did."

  The count went to rise, but she held him down. "I have to see to Thomas."

  "It's not Thomas they want. It's you."

  "I don't care." Their voices were getting a little loud.

  "There are too many of them. They will hang you. Thomas knows how to get around this castle unseen. They don't know about the secret passages."

  The tension in the count's body remained and she could tell he was debating rushing out there and taking them all on. "You are alone and unarmed. Now is not the time to make stupid decisions. Besides the professor has a pistol. He shot Balog."

  "Is he alright?"

  "I don't know. I only heard it."

  "I'll kill the bastard." She could feel his anger rising.

  "Live to fight another day. Don't be foolish. At least give them time to burn themselves out."

  The count huffed with indignity and annoyance, but he laid back again, his features relaxing once more. He was so utterly beautiful in such faint light, his skin almost luminescent in its paleness. His dark hair spread across her lap and she gently stroked his brow.

  "You pulled me in here," he said.

  "I might have ruined your jacket in the process."

  "No doubt they've destroyed everything they could get their hands on."

  Estelle pressed her finger to his lips again, enjoying the softness of them. It would destroy her if he was killed. There was no doubt she was in love with him, despite both his and her own warnings not to let that occur.

  "Did you know the professor was Liliana's cousin?" she asked after an extended time.

  "No," the count said.

  "I think he's mad. I suspect he killed those women to blame you." The thought had been turning over in her mind as she'd watched the unconscious man in her lap. He'd had to have seen when the count was leaving and those girls knew him, would probably not have batted an eyelid with him approaching. The very idea of it shivered down her spine. The awful, awful man.

  A noise outside had them both intently listening for a moment, but nothing seemed to come of it and Estelle relaxed again. What she wouldn't give for a lovely summer's day right now, warm breeze and delicious strawberries. Raspberries too—gooseberries, blackberries and even red currants. She felt a pang of homesickness. Back home, she would not be hiding from rampaging mobs.

  She started to giggle and had to check herself. "Sorry, nerves."

  "What were you thinking of?"

  "Summer berries."

  The count shook his head slightly, but didn't question her further. "You saved my life," he said, looking up at her with seriousness.

  "You would have done the same for me."

  "Yes," he said. "I would have slayed them all."

  Estelle wasn't quite sure his prowess as a warrior extended to subduing a whole mob, but she appreciated the sentiment.

  Reaching his hand up to her neck, he pulled her head down into a kiss. His lips were soft and welcoming, the sweetest counterpart to a horrid day. Sensations swam around her head, her eyes drifting shut with sheer pleasure. For a moment, she could forget that there was nasty hatefulness outside their little hiding place. For now, she was safe and cared for.

  Her lips ached for more when the kiss broke and the taste of him lingered. The count settled his head back down into her lap, apparently quite comfortable there. Again, she stroked his forehead, getting herself lost in the dark pools of his eyes. Boy, was she in trouble.

  *

  Estelle finally slept, as did the count. They’d shifted to both lie down and the count had pulled her to him and they’d stayed in roughly the same position, even if they didn't strictly have to. Neither of them saw any reason to shift, and they warmed each other in what would otherwise be a cold and drafty space.

  Noises woke her. The castle had been more or less quiet other than scrapes here and there, voices walking past the hall beyond the library, but now something was occurring. There was yelling, even screaming. Something was happening.

  The count had noticed too and rose. There were footsteps outside, then Estelle thought she heard Thomas' voice, but she wasn't sure. She listened as intently as she could. "Father?" Thomas called, apparently closer.

  Taking Estelle's hand, the count reached for the locking mechanism and opened the door. The library was mayhem. Books lay torn and strewn on the floor. The conservatory was a jagged mess. Furniture had been knocked over. The hall had mud and book pages trample
d throughout.

  Thomas came running, straight into the count's arms. "I rode to Andmassy and he brought the cavalry. The cavalry. We've come to save you."

  "And a splendid job you did."

  Cavalrymen were leading subdued villagers out at sword point. They put up little fight, most too exhausted and drunk to do anything. Besides, only the most stupid farmer would pitch himself at a trained cavalryman.

  Estelle felt lightheaded, almost as if she was about to faint. She hoped she didn't, but she needed to sit down. This was over and she was safe; they were safe.

  A man approached, a gentleman by the look of him. The count seemed to know him and they shook hands, speaking in rapid Hungarian.

  Estelle grabbed Thomas and pulled him to her. "Well done, Thomas," she said, seeing how utterly proud the boy was. He really had saved the day. "Have you seen Balog?"

  "They put him in the stable," Thomas said guardedly. The action itself told her he hadn't survived. They wouldn't put an injured man in the stable.

  "I'm sorry," she said with sadness.

  The count walked away with the other man, leaving her and Thomas. She knew Thomas wanted to go with his father, but she was concerned he should see things he shouldn't. He had already seen things he shouldn't, but no more. "Come help me tidy up the salon," she said. "We will need somewhere to sit."

  The salon was a mess. Windows were broken, furniture turned and ripped. As expected, all the decanters with alcohol were gone. It was freezing and a fire would likely do little, but she lit one anyway.

  Cavalrymen were still milling around the castle. After a while, the excitement became too much for Thomas and he had to see what they were all doing. Estelle stayed in the salon and tidied as much as she could. It would take days and days to clear up the mess. She didn't know how long it would take to fix all the broken windows and it would be freezing in the castle until that happened.

  Finally sitting down, she heaved a sigh of relief, wishing she could have a cup of tea, but Balog wasn't there to serve her. Now the tears finally came and she sobbed them out. It had been the most horrible day of her life. It might even have been two days for all she knew. She had completely lost track of time. But she had survived, as had both Thomas and the count. The injustice and the unfairness wasn't something she could even wrap her mind around. It was all so outlandish, so foreign, but it had happened. Their lovely existence had been wrecked and poor Balog had paid heavily for trying to protect them.

  Chapter 35:

  * * *

  The destruction wreaked on the castle was astounding. It was as if a hurricane had come through, the villagers ripping the place apart in unbridled glee. As they had not found the count, they had taken their anger out on the castle itself. But then maybe they were lucky that the castle hadn't simply been burned to the ground. The villagers had seen more benefit in their own version of destruction.

  Making her way to her room, she passed down corridors strewn with all sorts of things. It was amazing that a castle held so many things—ripped out from their hiding places. The door to her room was open and she knew immediately that her room had been beset by the marauding visitors.

  Her bed linen was lying all over the floor, the curtains of both the bed and the window ripped down. All her things had been overturned and her wardrobe rummaged.

  Making her way to her traveling case, she crouched down and searched through the compartments. The broach was gone. With sinking shoulders she slumped down. Her future was gone with it. She was back in the perilous state as when she'd arrived. In the scheme of things, in relation to the monetary losses the count had incurred, it was minuscule, but it had been very meaningful to her. That was gone now.

  It seemed some of her dresses had been taken as well. Why would someone take her dresses? Were they to be given to a woman, a wife or a sweetheart, or sold at some market? Luckily, not all her garments had been taken, but she had a much smaller wardrobe now. Her blue traveling dress was also gone.

  For a moment, she lamented the loss. She didn't have all that much to her name. It was unfair that someone come along and take, or worse, simply destroy, the few things she had. But a mob didn't care about consequences. It just wanted to vent its rage. Again, compared to others, particularly Balog and those poor girls, her losses were trivial. She had her life and not everyone had come out of this ordeal with such fortune.

  Pulling herself together, she tidied her room, remade her bed and put away all her things. She didn't have much, so it didn't take long. The curtains were the most difficult. There were tears in them that made them harder to hang. They would have to be replaced at some point, but it was unlikely to be at the top of things that needed doing.

  Restoring order, she rejoined the men downstairs, who were also trying to order the bulk of the furniture. Most of which were too heavy for the villagers to have made great damage to.

  Thomas appeared. "They stole the food," he said. "So we had to go hunting. The soldiers caught a boar and are roasting it out in the courtyard." Thomas' enthusiasm couldn't be dented and she admired how quickly he recuperated from these events. "There will be a fine supper tonight," he said and ran off.

  Estelle made her way to the library, feeling the cold from the broken windows of the conservatory. The door to the secret passage stood open and forgotten, and Estelle closed it, hearing the click of the lock. That door had saved the count's life, probably hers as well.

  Bending over, she picked up books and started stacking them on the shelves, placing the damaged ones on the table in the middle. She didn't know if this was the most important task right now. The job of tidying the castle was so large it was hard to see where to start, but she continued with the corner she had picked, slowly righting the destruction.

  She felt like crying again, but pulled herself together. They were alright, which was the important thing, she repeated. She had to focus on that and not the losses. There would be a point for dealing with that, but right now she felt too fragile to dwell on them. She would sink into an abyss if she succumbed to all the unfairness for the people who hadn't emerged unscathed.

  There was an urge to hate the villagers who had done this and she had to force herself not to. They weren’t responsible for the evil done around here. They reacted to the evil inflicted on them. In a way, they were entirely manipulated into this. If only they hadn't succumbed to it with such glee, that antagonistic part of her mind said.

  *

  The cavalrymen returned, many carrying things, which they took into the dining hall and placed them on the long table. These were the things they'd found in the village as they'd searched through all the houses. A few hordes had been found outside, where someone had placed their prizes for later retrieval.

  The table was full of things the villagers had taken, things they'd perceived as value—gold, silver, cloth, vases, weapons, and jewelry. Her broach was not there, however.

  Walking along, Estelle was amazed they had managed to carry so much away. There were even fine dresses in bright silks and lace. These were not her dresses, instead the countess', Estelle recognized. A dress like that was probably worth a year's wage to one of the villagers. That fact sat uncomfortably. The wealth the count contained in this castle was so very beyond what the villagers would ever have access to that one of these fine dresses would mean so much to them. But it wasn't their right to take them. The circumstances of poverty or wealth were arbitrary, in itself could never be considered just, but there would be absolute anarchy if people simply took the wealth they wanted.

  Underneath the countess’ dresses, she did recognize two of her own and was infinitely grateful to have them back.

  "These things were all found in the village cottages this afternoon," the count said, appearing behind her, picking up a leather scabbard and putting it back. "Anything they wanted, they took."

  "I suppose that is a risk with an angry mob," she said. "We are lucky they didn't burn the castle down."

  "They were too busy
stripping it of its riches."

  "I don't think that was their intent when they came," she said honestly.

  "Perhaps not, but the temptation overcame them."

  "What will happen to them?" she asked. The count had the right, maybe even the obligation, to punish them for this, and the destruction they had wreaked. But then they had been driven by a belief that the count was responsible for their missing daughters. "What will happen to Professor Szousa?"

  "That one is simple to answer. He has been taken to Budapest. He will stand trial for the murder of Balog and the girls. Their bodies were found in the basement of his house. He had buried them in shallow graves."

  Estelle shuddered. "The villagers know now the face of the real culprit."

  "Yes," the count said distractedly. "Does not really answer the question for me of what I must do with them now. By right, I should drive them off my land."

  "Their anger is understandable. The professor had convinced them you were responsible. He planned it so they would believe it."

  "I am aware," the count said. "But they also stole the bulk of my household, including my dead wife's possessions. Even if they had killed me, it would be Thomas' inheritance they steal."

  Estelle wrapped her arms around her. There was no easy answer. They had transgressed. Even against her. They had stolen her future and safety, even if to seek future and safety for themselves.

  "You're things were taken, too," he pointed out as if reading her thoughts.

  "Yes, but my dresses are recovered."

  "What of your things not recovered?"

  Her thoughts went to the broach. It wasn't his fault that it had been lost. He had lost far more than her. They had both lost and she didn't want to make him responsible for the loss of the broach, then feel obliged to replace it. "I think we must obtain justice for Balog," she said.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the broach, which sat sparkling in his hand. "It was found in one of the houses."