The Reluctant Governess

by Anne Mather

  When she was ready, she came out of the bedroom and began to go down the winding staircase. The wolfhound followed her obsequiously and she smiled to herself. Was she to be provided with a ready-made bodyguard?

  The dog followed her to the kitchen and Maria looked at it in surprise. ‘Back, Fritz,’ she said sharply, but Victoria shook her head.

  ‘Leave him,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s all right if he comes with me, isn’t it?’

  Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘Fritz and Helga are the Herr Baron’s dogs,’ she said, reprovingly. ‘It is his permission you need, fräulein!’

  ‘Ach, the dogs need exercise,’ exclaimed Gustav abruptly. ‘Leave the fräulein alone, Maria. Fritz will come to no harm with her.’

  Maria shrugged and turned back to her baking, and deciding there was no point in saying any more, Victoria went across the room and out of the door through which the Baron had entered earlier. Fritz followed her and she closed the door behind them firmly, glad of the dog’s company.

  Patting his head, she set off across the yard. They had emerged at the side of the schloss, but a covered way led them through to the inner courtyard where she had seen the stables the previous day. The air was freezing but clear as wine and almost as intoxicating. Picking up a handful of snow, she threw it playfully at Fritz and he barked and fussed about her with all the liberal affection of a puppy. Really, it was remarkable, she thought with some amusement, Fritz seemed to imagine she was his deliverer and his natural loyalties had been temporarily transferred.

  The noise of their boisterous game must have penetrated the walls of the stables, for presently a small, fur-clad figure emerged and stood watching them. Victoria straightened from fondling the dog to face her charge, and as she did so she heard Fritz growling low in his throat. She looked down at him in surprise, and saw he was staring malevolently at the child. If anything further was needed to convince Victoria that Sophie was responsible for imprisoning the wolfhound, this was proof indeed. Sophie’s face grew mutinous as they crossed the yard towards her, and as though deciding that the best method of defence was attack, she said sharply:

  ‘Fritz is only allowed out with my father, fräulein! He will be very angry when he finds out that you have disobeyed his orders!’

  Victoria regarded her dispassionately. ‘And what if I tell you I have your father’s permission to bring the dog out here?’ she countered.

  Sophie frowned, her eyes guarded. ‘You asked my father’s permission?’ she questioned disbelievingly. ‘I don’t believe you, fräulein.’

  Victoria shrugged. ‘Well, why don’t you ask him,’ she suggested lightly. ‘Tell him I found poor Fritz had locked himself in one of the turret rooms, and when I released him he insisted on following me.’

  Sophie grew sullen. ‘You think you’re very clever, don’t you, fräulein?’

  ‘No. But cleverer than you, perhaps, Sophie,’ replied Victoria smoothly. ‘Now, I have’ your father’s instructions regarding your tuition, and I suggest we go indoors and begin to discover exactly how clever you really are.’

  Sophie regarded her furiously for a moment, and then without another word she turned and flounced away, completely ignoring Victoria’s words. Victoria found it difficult to remain where she was and not go after the child and force her to return with her. But something warned her that this was not an opportune moment to show her hand, so instead she turned as well and strolled towards the arched gateway that led outside the schloss. With Fritz at her heels she had no fears for her safety, and it was too exhilarating a day to spend it wholly indoors.

  She walked through the path which someone had cleared to the banks of the stream and looked down into the water. It was quite shallow though fast-moving, and she wondered if that was the secret of its remaining unfrozen.

  Later, walking round the outer walls of the schloss she determinedly put all thoughts of Sophie and her problems out of her mind. Instead, she thought about her godmother and wondered whether Meredith had brought any pressure to bear upon her to reveal Victoria’s whereabouts. Of course, it was just possible that Meredith might have taken affront at her unexpected disappearance and decided to let the matter rest there, but somehow, knowing Meredith as she did, she felt convinced he would do everything in his power to find her. Apart from a postcard from Salzburg she had made no attempt to contact Aunt Laurie since her departure and she hoped her godmother would be able to cope alone. Maybe running away had been a cowardly action, and yet had she not done so she might never have had the strength to send Meredith away. He had, she supposed, an immense amount of conceit, and it simply would not occur to him that she seriously did not intend to become involved with a married man. Possibly because divorces were so easy to come by in his country he did not consider that a great barrier, but Victoria did, and she was glad now that she had been given this chance to start afresh. She had enjoyed being a lady of leisure while it lasted, but work was satisfying to her, and talking to the Baron this morning had aroused within her all that latent knowledge which she had been taught to impart to others. Her godmother had never been able to understand that doing a job that one enjoyed and which gave one satisfaction could be a pleasure. Even now, her reasons for despatching Victoria to Austria had not been a desire to provide an occupation for her, but rather to give her time to get over Meredith before coming back and beginning again.

  Victoria stood staring up at the frozen peaks above her, and stamped her feet. She was beginning to feel cold now, and she turned to make her way back to the arched gateway. Fritz had got tired of gambolling about and stayed close by her heels as they crossed the courtyard to the main entrance. It was easier to enter here than to go round to the side door and although the heavy structure was difficult to manipulate eventually it swung inwards on its hinges. Victoria entered, shaking the flying flakes of snow from her clothes and removing her headscarf, and looked up to encounter the forbidding gaze of the Baron. He was standing by the wide fireplace, the flickering flames turning his hair to molten gold. The other wolfhound, Helga, stood motionless beside him and when Fritz saw them he bounded across joyfully, rubbing himself against his master’s legs.

  Victoria loosened her coat and said lightly: ‘We’ve been for a walk, Fritz and I. It’s very invigorating, out in the air!’

  The Baron moved and now Victoria could see that Sophie was perched on the settle by the fire, warming her toes at the blaze. She had shed her outdoor things, and looked cat-like in the glowing light from the burning logs. She gave Victoria an insolent stare, and then looked up adoringly at her father.

  ‘Tell me, fräulein,’ said the Baron in harsh tones, ‘did you think to make a fool of me last evening?’

  Victoria frowned, his unexpected remark puzzling her. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Herr Baron,’ she replied, shaking her head.

  The Baron folded his arms looking every inch the feudal overlord. ‘The dogs!’ he said bleakly. ‘You feigned timidity in their presence, and yet now you appear to be on the best of terms with Fritz. So much so that you countermand my instructions concerning the animals.’

  Victoria felt exasperated. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, you appear to be making a fuss about nothing,’ she replied shortly. ‘My timidity last evening was by no means feigned, but as you can see, Fritz and I have become friends.’

  ‘But I do mind you saying so!’ The Baron was obviously unused to having his staff answer him back in this manner. ‘My instructions about the animals were not made lightly, and apart from that, your position here is not to be taken with indifference!’

  Victoria saw Sophie’s smug little face and wanted to scream. Instead, she controlled herself and said: ‘What is that supposed to mean, Herr Baron?’ in rather sardonic tones.

  The Baron’s dark brows drew together. ‘After our conversation this morning I expected you to begin your lessons with Sophie, but instead you disappear for over an hour with an animal whose temperament is by no means reliable!’


  Victoria stared at him indignantly for a long moment, and then she turned away.

  ‘Where are you going?’ The Baron’s tones were curt.

  Victoria turned back. ‘I was going to my room,’ she said, carefully. ‘To pack my things!’

  The Baron strode across to her angrily. ‘What foolishness is this?’ he snapped violently. ‘Is it not possible to carry on a conversation with you, fräulein?’

  Victoria glared at him. ‘You call this a conversation!’ she exclaimed. ‘This—this reprobation in front of a nine-year-old girl!’

  ‘It is an admonishment, no more,’ returned the Baron coldly. ‘Surely as your employer I am entitled to question your movements during the hours when I expect you to have charge of Sophie?’

  Victoria stamped her feet, one against the other, ridding her boots of the lingering traces of snow, and then looked up at him unhappily. ‘All right,’ she said at last, ‘maybe I feel extra sensitive this morning.’ Her eyes flickered towards Sophie and she was heartened to see that now Sophie was beginning to look discomfited.

  ‘And what has made you—extra sensitive, fräulein?’ he queried, intently. He glanced towards Sophie. ‘Does my daughter have anything to do with it?’

  He was more perceptive where Sophie was concerned than she would have believed. All the same, she had no intention now of turning tell-tale and destroying her own self-respect as well as arousing Sophie’s further antipathy.

  To her relief, the door from the kitchen passage opened at that moment and Maria came in carrying a tray on which was a jug of hot milk and another of coffee, and three beakers. She came across the wide expanse of polished floor and placed the tray on the long polished table.

  The Baron left Victoria and went across to Maria with a smile. ‘Danke, Maria,’ he nodded pleasantly. ‘It is most welcome!’

  Maria coloured with pleasure and then looked at Victoria. ‘So you are back, fräulein,’ she said, with some relief. ‘Gustav was about to go and look for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Victoria frowned. ‘Whatever for? I wasn’t lost.’

  The Baron dismissed Maria with a shake of his head, and after the old woman had left them he said: ‘The weather is bad in these mountains. A sudden snowstorm can impair the progress of the most experienced climber, and to tumble into a drift without the knowledge of how to get out again can be fatal.’

  Victoria uttered an exclamation. ‘But I was not climbing. I walked round the outer walls of the schloss, that was all.’

  ‘With Fritz.’

  ‘With Fritz, of course.’

  ‘An animal about whom you know nothing and who last evening aroused timidity inside you!’

  Victoria felt slightly mutinous herself now. ‘What do you want me to say, Herr Baron?’ she asked impatiently. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve caused anyone any anxiety, but that was certainly not my intention. I do have more sense than to attempt to walk far from the castle without an adequate escort.’

  ‘Es freut mich.’ The Baron looked towards his daughter. ‘You will begin your lessons this afternoon, Blümchen.’

  Sophie slid off her perch slowly, and approached him reproachfully. ‘Mir ist nicht wohl, Papa,’ she said, hanging her head weakly.

  The Baron frowned. ‘You don’t feel well?’ he repeated her words in English for Victoria’s benefit. ‘You were perfectly all right earlier.’

  Sophie slid her hand into his. ‘It is a headache, Papa,’ she said appealingly. ‘May we not leave the lessons until tomorrow, seeing that the fräulein was not beginning this morning?’

  Victoria was aware that this whole scene was being staged for her benefit. Somehow Sophie had sensed that she did not intend to tell tales about her to her father and felt perfectly safe to continue with her lies, for that was what they were, Victoria was in no doubt.

  The Baron looked down at Sophie’s head gently, and then looked across at Victoria, who could not entirely hide her impatience. ‘Very well,’ he said, with decision. ‘We will leave the lessons until tomorrow and this afternoon Miss Monroe can begin to unpack her trunk which at present resides in the cupboard at the foot of the turret stairs. Gustav and I will transport it to your room after lunch, fräulein.’

  Victoria forgot her impatience in her delight at finding that her trunk had indeed arrived. She had intended asking the Baron over supper the previous evening, but his non-appearance had prevented her from doing so. And this morning she had forgotten all about it. ‘I was going to ask about that,’ she exclaimed, with pleasure. ‘Most of my clothes are in it.’

  The Baron gave her a wry glance. ‘If the trunk is filled with your clothes, fräulein, then I fear the facilities provided in your room for storing such articles will by no means prove adequate.’

  Victoria compressed her lips. ‘While the trunk contains most of my clothes I did not say it was filled with them,’ she said smoothly. ‘I anticipated that my evenings here might prove dull without some books to read or some sewing to do.

  ‘You sew, fräulein?’ The Baron sounded surprised, and she thought he was mocking her.

  Without replying she walked swiftly across to the door and turned the handle as he said: ‘Your coffee, fräulein!’

  With ill grace she turned and accepted the cup he had poured in the moment it took for her to cross the hall and at his suggestion added cream and sugar. Sophie had coffee, too, liberally laced with cream, and for a few moments there was silence in the high chamber. Then Victoria firmly excused herself and leaving the hall ran up the stairs to her room.

  Someone had lit the fire in her absence, and it was cosily warm in her modest apartment. Victoria shed her boots and overcoat, and the extra sweater she had worn to go out and seated herself by the fire to warm her hands at the blaze. It was amazing to consider that she had been at the Schloss Reichstein for less than twenty-four hours. So much seemed to have happened that London seemed a lifetime away.

  She pondered the problem of Sophie with increased intensity. No wonder her previous governesses had found the isolation too much for them. It was, in Victoria’s opinion, a particularly useful excuse. The child was becoming practically unmanageable and it was difficult to decide how best to handle her. Her success at ridding herself of the other two governesses had no doubt given her a sense of her own importance that would not be easy to dislodge. Of course, Victoria was at liberty to take her problems to the Baron himself, make him responsible for Sophie’s good behaviour, but that was no real solution. The girl would despise Victoria even more for being unable to deal with her own affairs. And sooner or later she would discover some way of discrediting Victoria in the Baron’s eyes. She had already proved that such a thing was not impossible. But without another woman in the house it was a precarious situation. Unless Victoria was given a completely free hand where Sophie was concerned there would be no peace between them. But how to earn the Baron’s confidence, that was the crux of the matter. At present she was merely an intruder, a transitory intruder, if Sophie had anything to do with it, and therefore for the present she must content herself with the task of proving she was equal to the task.

  She ate lunch with Maria and Gustav, but again the Baron and his daughter were absent. When she tentatively mentioned this to Maria, however, she discovered that Sophie and her father were having their meal in the study she had seen earlier.

  ‘The Herr Baron usually dines in his study,’ said Maria, carving slices of home-cured ham on to their plates. ‘As a concession the little one is sometimes allowed to join him.’

  ‘I see.’ Victoria grimaced and applied herself to the delicious broth Maria had served first, but she couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that this position had not been made known to her at the time he had suggested she might like to eat her meals from a tray in her room. She had believed they all ate in the kitchen, and to discover that this was not so was rather annoying. It was the kind of situation that Sophie would appreciate, she thought perceptively. It aligned her position with that of Maria and
Gustav and placed the Baron and his daughter in an entirely different situation. Then she wrinkled her nose resignedly. What could it possibly matter to her where she ate? The kitchen was as good as anywhere in this mausoleum, and at least she had company. Even so, it brought home to her the realisation that she was no longer considered as anything more than an employee of the household. She smiled to herself when she contemplated what Aunt Laurie’s reactions to such a situation might be. Victoria thought her godmother might well imagine that being governess to the daughter of the Baron von Reichstein would be an extremely comfortable arrangement.

  During the afternoon her trunk was transported to her room by Gustav and his employer and after they had left her she opened it with interest. Outside flurries of snow scattered against the panes of the window, but inside it was warm and comfortable and she was glad to have an occupation.

  She hung her clothes away in the capacious old wardrobe that stood in the corner of her room, and then knelt down to examine what she had left. She had brought several books, some of them old favourites which she could read over and over again, and others which had been recommended to her but which she had never found the time to tackle before. Although she rarely made her own clothes she was quite good at sewing, and she had brought some lengths of material with her for an additional hobby. She had thought the Baroness von Reichstein, or her seamstress, might possess a sewing machine, but as that was obviously to be a vain hope she would have to be patient and sew anything she needed by hand. Possibly, she reflected, it was not a bad prospect, after all. Sewing with a machine was so much quicker that during these long empty hours she would have soon despatched all her cloth. At the very bottom of the trunk she found a small battery-driven transistorised tape recorder. She had forgotten she had put this in, and her spirits lifted as she realised she could provide herself with some music whenever she wanted. Taking it out, she pressed the switches and presently a rather dreamy ballad which she had taped from the current hit parade filled the air.