The Reluctant Governess

by Anne Mather

  In spite of her reluctance, Victoria could not help but enjoy the meal. After the Wiener Schnitzel, tender slices of veal steak dipped in egg and breadcrumbs and fried to a crispness, there was Palatschinken, dessert pancakes filled with honey and nuts. It was all very rich and very satisfying, and Victoria reflected that she would have to take care that she did not put on too much weight. Her host seemed to have no such anxieties and did full justice to the food. But he had not an ounce of spare flesh on his body, which no doubt was due to the energetic life he led.

  Maria brought in the coffee, just as Victoria was lounging back in her chair, replete. She gave the girl a rather considered stare and took away their dirty dishes for washing.

  ‘Will you be wanting anything else, Herr Baron?’ she asked politely.

  The Baron shook his head, getting to his feet to close the door behind her. ‘No, danke,’ he murmured. ‘That was absolutely delicious! Nowhere in Austria could the Schnitzel have been bettered.’

  Maria flushed with enjoyment, and Victoria hoped her pleasure in the Baron’s compliments would dissipate the obvious aversion she had felt at having to serve the governess. She would hate Maria to turn against her.

  After the housekeeper had gone, the Baron came back to the desk where Victoria was now standing, and said: ‘Is something troubling you, fräulein?’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘What could be troubling me, Herr Baron?’ she asked, rather sardonically. Then she sighed. ‘If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll go to my room.’

  The Baron poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her. His expression was quizzical and she thought rather childishly that he could afford to be generous now that he had had his own way. She drank her coffee quickly, burning her mouth, and when he offered her a second cup she refused. He moved towards the fire, warming his hands at the blaze, and frowning slightly.

  ‘It would seem that you are not to be placated, fräulein,’ he remarked suddenly, surprising her. ‘Must you always have your own way?’

  Victoria felt embarrassed. ‘It’s not a question of having my own way, Herr Baron,’ she protested. ‘I just—well—find it difficult to adhere always to your jurisdiction!’

  ‘Come, come, fräulein, you make me sound like a dictator,’ he exclaimed mockingly.

  Victoria gave him an angry look. ‘And aren’t you?’

  The Baron turned, resting his arm on the mantel above the fire. ‘I do not care to be seen in that light,’ he averred sharply. ‘In fact I would go so far as to say that no one else sees me that way. If I appear so to you, it must be because you persist in behaving in an importunate manner. My previous experience of governesses has been that they look to me for guidance rather than the other way about.’

  Victoria lifted her shoulders helplessly. ‘What you mean is that no matter what I say you will ultimately do as you wish.’

  ‘I am trying to be patient with you, fräulein.’ His voice was a little harder now. ‘But I find it extremely difficult. Must I repeat that your duties here are limited?’

  ‘But where is the harm in making Sophie look a little more attractive? She’s far too absorbed with herself in other ways, and maybe interesting her in pretty clothes would limit her use of her imagination—--’

  ‘And exactly where do you propose to get these clothes for Sophie?’ he enquired harshly. ‘Must I remind you that here at Reichstein durability counts for more than superficial prettiness!’

  Victoria shook her head with a sigh. ‘Things can be attractive as well as durable!’ she exclaimed. ‘And I have brought some material with me. I could make her a couple of pinafore dresses and blouses. Anything to make a change from those interminable woollen dresses!’

  ‘Are you telling me you actually sew, fräulein?’ He was mocking.

  ‘Of course.’ Victoria held up her head. ‘Well, Herr Baron? Have I your permission?’

  The Baron heaved a sigh and straightened from his lounging position. He studied her challenging face for a long moment, and then he made an impatient gesture. ‘Very well. If it will amuse you to do so.’ He flexed his shoulder muscles. ‘Naturally I shall pay you for the material you use.’

  Victoria linked her fingers. ‘That won’t be necessary, Herr Baron.’

  ‘But I insist. You must have bought this material for your own use. We may be poor, fräulein, but we are not yet ready to accept charity!’ His voice was cold.

  ‘Very well, if you insist,’ she answered uncomfortably.

  ‘Tell me.’ He was very close, looking down at her with intent blue eyes. ‘There was a man in England, was there not? A man from whom you wished to escape. Tell me why!’

  Victoria’s face burned. ‘Aren’t you being a little importunate yourself now, Herr Baron?’ she countered, rather unevenly.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, his voice husky. ‘But such a beautiful young woman would not seek the isolation of the Alps in winter unless she wished to escape from something and it seems reasonable that it should be a member of my sex.’

  Victoria focussed her eyes on one of the pearl buttons of his heavy satin shirt and refused to meet his gaze. He was deliberately turning the tables on her, she thought, using his not inconsiderable charm to reduce her to a trembling mass of nerves. He could not have lived almost forty years without becoming aware of his physical attraction, and a strange thought passed through Victoria’s head. The Baron was married, just as Meredith was married, and had a daughter moreover; yet would she have found it as easy to leave him when she discovered that fact as she had Meredith? Somehow she doubted it. Right now she was in possession of all the facts, and yet if he had chosen to bend his head and put that rather sensual mouth against hers she would not have put up too much opposition …

  Suddenly there was the harsh grating sound of a car with chains on its wheels being driven into the courtyard and abruptly the Baron moved away from her, his expression enigmatic.

  ‘It seems we have a visitor, fräulein,’ he said, pushing a log further into the fire with the toe of his suede boot. ‘No doubt it is Dr. Zimmerman. You must stay and meet him.’

  Victoria was about to say she had already met the doctor, but the Baron strode swiftly across the room and went out of the door before she could begin, leaving Victoria feeling strangely disturbed. It was quite unnerving to realise exactly how disturbed she actually was.

  When the two men returned, entering the room together deep in conversation, Victoria felt de trop. Like Maria, the doctor would not expect to find the governess in the Baron’s domain, but apart from a slight widening of his eyes Conrad Zimmerman made no comment on this. Instead, he smiled warmly at her, and said:

  ‘Why, my dear fräulein Monroe! It is very pleasant to meet you again. You slipped away so abruptly the last time I came that I almost believed I had imagined you.’

  The Baron gave Victoria a cold speculative stare and then turned his gaze back to Conrad Zimmerman. ‘You know fräulein Monroe?’ he queried, bleakly.

  ‘But of course, my dear Horst. We met on my last visit to the schloss. Indeed, I might go so far as to say fräulein Monroe welcomed me on that occasion.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ began Victoria, feeling rather embarrassed. ‘I was simply in the hall when you arrived—--’

  ‘And a very welcome sight you were, too,’ murmured Conrad teasingly. ‘Eh, Horst?’

  The Baron raised his dark brows indifferently. ‘I was unaware of the occurrence,’ he commented smoothly.

  Conrad grinned. ‘We were discussing the possibilities of my teaching the young lady how to ski,’ he said, glancing at Victoria encouragingly. ‘Weren’t we?’

  Victoria had the feeling that her employer was controlling his temper with difficulty. The way Conrad Zimmerman was talking was tantamount to treating her like the Baron’s guest and not his employee.

  ‘I really must go,’ she said now, looking apologetically at Conrad. ‘Enjoy your game!’ She made for the door.

  ‘Oh, I say—--’ began Conrad protestingl
y. ‘Don’t go! Can’t we fix something up?’

  The Baron stood with his back to the fire, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers, regarding them both with narrowed eyes. Victoria was amazed that Conrad seemed indifferent to the atmosphere which she could sense almost tangibly.

  ‘I really think we’ll have to leave it for now,’ she answered. ‘I—er—well—don’t have a lot of free time.’

  ‘Hey, Horst, are you a Menschenschinder?’ Conrad quipped.

  The Baron gave him a dark glance from beneath his thick lashes. ‘A slave-driver?’ he queried, with a frown. ‘No doubt fräulein Monroe would say so!’

  Conrad grinned. ‘I don’t believe it, fräulein Monroe! Won’t you take pity on me?’

  Victoria wished the floor would simply open up and swallow her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, with a regretful shake of her head. ‘Now, if you’ll both excuse me. Herr Baron.’ And with what she hoped was an apologetic smile, she left the room.

  Outside in the corridor, she took several deep breaths to calm herself. What a disastrous few minutes! No doubt now the Baron would imagine she had asked the doctor to teach her to ski. Conrad Zimmerman had made it sound as though they had had a long conversation, whereas it had all happened in the space of about five minutes.

  She began to walk along the corridor towards the great hall. Still, she reflected, it was perhaps as well that Dr. Zimmerman had arrived as he did to interrupt the Baron’s questions about her reasons for coming to Reichstein. Her employer was altogether too disturbing when he chose to be so, and she was becoming far too aware of him as a man …

  She found herself wondering what it would be like to get behind that façade he presented to the world. He was by no means as dispassionate as he would like to believe, and it would be dangerously easy to forget that he had ties and responsibilities. Discovering that Meredith was a married man had turned her against him, but somehow the Baron’s unattainability merely made him more attractive. She knew that if she had any sense she would avoid being alone with him again. It wasn’t that he was the kind of man who might forget his responsibilities and try and take advantage of her; he was far too honourable and serious-minded to act like that. But what she was afraid of was that she might be tempted to arouse him in a way he could not avoid, and thus make him despise her for destroying his own self-respect. She thought he was half unaware of his own emotional potentialities. Whoever his wife had been and wherever she was she had barely stirred the surface of his passions. She could not be the kind of woman who cared greatly for anyone or anything or she would not have deserted her husband and daughter so carelessly, creating a situation into which Victoria had plunged without being at all forewarned of its undercurrents …

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE next few days passed almost uneventfully. Sophie seemed for the present to have accepted Victoria’s rôle as her governess and she applied herself to her lessons with restrained enthusiasm. Victoria sensed that the child secretly enjoyed succeeding at the tasks which were set her, and blossomed like a flower under encouragement.

  Outside of the classroom, however, it was a different story. Sophie spurned Victoria’s friendship, and spent most of her time alone, either in the stables with the horses, or elsewhere about the estate. Sometimes she was with Maria in the kitchen, or accompanying Gustav about his duties, but never with Victoria.

  However, Victoria did not get angry as she knew Sophie hoped she would. She was prepared to wait. She had the child’s undivided attention for at least five hours every day and she could not expect instant capitulation in every direction.

  Victoria’s days were filled with teaching Sophie and preparing lessons for the following day. She continued to eat her meals with Maria and Gustav in the kitchen, and made no further attempts to dress for dinner. She avoided her employer as best she could, only speaking to him when he asked for information about his daughter, and as he was invariably absorbed with his own affairs these sessions were not a frequent occurrence, much to her relief.

  She had a letter from her godmother a few days later.

  It was characteristically long, involving a much drawn-out description of the events of the past couple of weeks since Victoria left England. She mentioned every social occasion she had attended, gave a detailed list of the guests, and even enumerated the dishes which had been served.

  Victoria read it with a certain degree of impatience, knowing that her godmother was deliberately leaving all mention of Meredith until the end. When she eventually came to his name, she read on with undisguised curiosity:

  You will, I know, be eagerly awaiting my news concerning Meredith Hammond. What can I say? How can I fail to underestimate the conceit of that man? He seems to imagine he has some divine right where you are concerned. He has persisted in bullying and badgering me until I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels …

  Victoria smiled at this. She could not imagine her godmother permitting anyone to bully or badger her. On the contrary, she had a particularly strong will of her own, and this was simply an effort to show Victoria what kind of man Meredith really was. She read on:

  In any event, he has made himself most objectionable, and I cannot begin to see what it was that attracted you to him. He is money-conscious to an almost vulgar degree, and seems to think that everyone can be bought for a price! Just imagine it! But so far as I know, he has made no success of his efforts to find you, and quite honestly I find this little bit of intrigue rather exciting. Covering one’s tracks, so to speak.

  But how about you? Your letter-card gave little information, as I am sure you are aware. What is the schloss really like? You must know I’m avid for information. And what about the Baron and his wife? Are they kind to you? I suppose you’re treated as a member of the family. Not that I should suppose they entertain a lot. There won’t be many opportunities in the Alps in winter. Although, I suppose there are winter sports centres, and that sort of thing. Tell me, my dear, have you met any nice young men? I do hope you won’t go getting involved with any more unsuitable people.

  You must write me, too, about the child, Sophie. I suppose by now you’re quite firm friends. I always think girls are so much easier to get on with …

  There was more in the same vein. Aunt Laurie’s letters were always more like epistles, and when Victoria had been at boarding school she had treasured them, reading them again and again when she felt homesick. But right now she had other things on her mind, and she merely skimmed the last two pages before thrusting the letter back into its envelope.

  Still, it was a relief to know that Meredith would not be suddenly appearing out of the blue, intent on taking her back to London. It made her feel more secure somehow, although she knew that even if he did come she would be perfectly capable of dealing with him now.

  The following day Maria informed her at breakfast that the Baron was driving in to Reichstein and taking Sophie with him.

  ‘The Mädchen has not had a break for many days,’ she averred firmly. ‘It will do her good to get out with her papa.’

  Victoria cupped her coffee cup in her hands. ‘I have no objections,’ she commented wryly. ‘I am not a slave-driver.’

  Maria raised her eyebrows and plunged her hands into a bowl of dough, kneading it expertly. ‘Nevertheless, since you came, fräulein, the Baron has had little time for his daughter.’

  Victoria felt indignant at this accusation, but just then the Baron came through from the hall and gave her a polite greeting.

  ‘Has Maria told you I am driving into Reichstein?’ he asked, reaching for his heavy sheepskin coat.

  Victoria wetted her lips with her tongue. ‘Yes, Herr Baron.’

  ‘Good, good! It is an invigorating morning. Sophie will enjoy the ride.’

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ said Victoria dryly.

  ‘You are ready, fräulein?’ He surveyed her critically as he buttoned his coat.

  ‘Me?’ exclaimed Victoria ungrammatically, her eyes going swi
ftly to Maria.

  ‘Natürlich!’ The Baron frowned. ‘You do not wish to come?’

  Victoria made an involuntary gesture. She sensed Maria’s eyes upon her and realised that earlier the old woman had been attempting to suggest that she, Victoria, ought to allow the Baron and his daughter to go out alone. She didn’t know what to say or do. It was very awkward.

  At last she said: ‘I think it would be better if I did not accompany you, Herr Baron.’

  Maria’s expression lightened considerably, but the Baron did not appear to share her feelings.

  ‘Sophie is aware that you are to accompany us, fräulein,’ he stated harshly. ‘There will be no trouble from that quarter.’

  Victoria flushed. ‘Please,’ she began. ‘I’d rather stay here. I have things to do—my room to tidy—some washing—--’

  ‘Sehr gut, fräulein,’ he snapped violently. ‘Ich verstehe!’ Then, without another word, he strode out of the kitchen.

  After he had gone, Victoria heaved a heavy sigh. It was the first time she had known the Baron refrain from using English, and she thought he must be very annoyed. But why? Because she had refused? Or because she had again chosen to disobey his commands? She looked at Maria. The old woman was absorbed with peeling some potatoes and seemed unwilling to talk now. Probably she was quite content with the outcome of her insinuations.

  The Baron and Sophie had not returned at lunchtime, and after the meal Victoria felt at a loose end. She had done her chores, tidied her room, prepared lessons for the following day and checked what Sophie had already done. Apart from sitting over the fire and reading, she had nothing to do, and somehow on a day when the sun was gilding the high peaks to a golden icing, and making the frost sparkle jewel-like on the ground, it was too beautiful to stay indoors. She hesitated about asking Gustav whether she might be allowed to take Fritz for a walk. After the last occasion, she had grown more cautious. But she longed to be out in the air, taking some exercise.

  The sound of chains on a car’s wheels brought her to the window of the hall, and she looked out to see Conrad Zimmerman climbing out of his station wagon. He waved when he saw her, and came striding over to the main doors swiftly. Victoria drew back, doubtful of making him welcome when the Baron was not here, but the young doctor came straight in as usual, and grinned cheerfully at her.