by Anne Mather
The Baron’s lips formed a slight smile. ‘I find that difficult to believe,’ he murmured softly. ‘Now, run along like a good girl. It is almost your bedtime, after all. Go to your room and I will join you there in a few minutes. When I have heard what it is fräulein Monroe has to say.’
Sophie wrinkled her nose. ‘Do I have to, Papa?’ she asked appealingly.
‘Ja, you have to, Sophie.’ The Baron was firm.
Sophie got disconsolately to her feet, and gave Victoria an angry stare. ‘I hope she’s come to tell you she’s leaving,’ she said rudely.
The Baron’s expression grew grim. ‘You will apologise for that remark,’ he snapped shortly.
Sophie rubbed her nose with her finger. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said unwillingly. ‘I’m sorry!’ But she wasn’t, and her tone did not deceive either Victoria or the Baron.
‘Go to your room at once,’ thundered Sophie’s father violently, and with a half-scared backward glance Sophie went out.
As usual, when she had gone, Victoria felt herself the instigator of Sophie’s naughtiness, and in consequence it weakened her defences towards the Baron.
‘Now,’ he said, closing the door on his daughter, ‘we are alone. What is it you have come to say? Was Sophie right? Are you coming to tell me you want to leave?’ He leaned back against the door, his arms folded.
Victoria twisted her hands behind her back. He was certainly taking no chances that she might walk out on him again, she thought. She was, for the present, trapped.
‘No,’ she said now. ‘I—I came to apologise!’
The Baron looked slightly sceptical. ‘Yes, fräulein?’
‘Yes.’ Victoria moved uncomfortably under his intent gaze. ‘I—I shouldn’t have said what I did. My—my tongue ran away with me.’
The Baron regarded her appraisingly. ‘I see,’ he said, straightening and moving away from the door.
Victoria waited uncomfortably for him to go on. It was unnerving standing there waiting for his reactions. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as she watched him take a cigar out of the box on his desk and light it with deliberation, exhaling aromatic fumes into the air. Then he walked to stand with his back to the fire looking strangely saturnine in spite of the lightness of his hair.
Victoria could stand it no longer. ‘Well, Herr Baron?’ she urged. ‘Is my apology acceptable?’
The Baron removed his cigar from his mouth and tapped ash into the fire. ‘Am I to understand that you are prepared to take back everything you said?’ he queried, his brilliant eyes holding hers.
Victoria compressed her lips. ‘Not—not entirely,’ she answered unhappily.
He frowned. ‘No?’
‘You’re making it very difficult for me,’ she exclaimed impulsively.
‘Am I?’ He was sardonic.
‘Oh!’ Victoria clenched her fists. He was impossible. He was deliberately making it harder for her to be conciliatory. ‘I couldn’t in all honesty completely submit to your terms of employment.’
The Baron’s expression was forbidding. ‘I have noticed.’
Victoria sighed. ‘It would not be possible for me to make any headway with Sophie without a will of my own, Herr Baron.’
‘Is that intended to be an explanation of your refusal to accept authority, fräulein?’
‘No, of course not.’ Victoria spread her hands expressively. ‘I do accept authority. I just feel that what I do in my own time is my business.’
The Baron studied the glowing tip of his cigar. ‘While you are staying at Reichstein, you are my responsibility, fräulein. This—this godmother of yours—she would not like anything to happen to you?’
‘Of course not.’ Victoria moved her shoulders helplessly.
‘Then perhaps you will accept that I know what is best for you.’ He made a sweeping movement with his cigar. ‘These mountains—they are dangerous, unpredictable! I know, believe me, I know. Dr. Zimmerman is not a suitable escort. Oh, I agree, he is a charming young man, and no doubt you are flattered by his attentions, but he disregards the dangers—--’
‘I was not flattered by his attentions!’ stated Victoria, with tight lips.
‘No?’ The Baron’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’
Victoria heaved a sigh. ‘Dr. Zimmerman is not the first attractive man I have ever known, Herr Baron. I am not a schoolgirl. I do know other men …’
The Baron looked distantly at her. ‘Oh, I believe you, fräulein,’ he returned, and the way he said it made it an insult.
Victoria took a deep breath. ‘You have no right to catechise me like this!’ she said irritatedly. ‘If you intend dispensing with my obviously—irresponsible—services, then please get it over with!’
The Baron stood a step towards her, clenching his free hand. ‘You see,’ he said tautly. ‘Always so ready to attack! It may interest you to know that I do not wish to dispense with your services. On the other hand, you may force me to do so.’
‘Why?’
The Baron threw his cigar into the fire and resting his arm on the mantel for a moment watched it burn, engulfed in seconds by the flames. Then he turned to look at her broodingly.
‘This man you knew in London,’ he said. ‘Why did you run away from him?’
Victoria felt the hot colour sweep up her throat to her face. ‘Is this also part of my terms of employment?’ she countered, taking refuge in brittle sarcasm.
The Baron moved nearer to her, regarding her with the icy intensity of cold steel. His gaze followed the line of her velvet lounging pants, the soft concealing contours of her sweater, to the full parted awareness of her mouth. ‘Tell me,’ he said commandingly. ‘Or is the subject too painful? Is it possible you are hiding a broken heart, fräulein Monroe?’
Victoria stiffened her back. ‘Don’t mock me, Herr Baron,’ she said, uneasily aware that the situation had suddenly become infinitely dangerous.
He halted about a foot from her and Victoria hoped he was not aware of the thunderous pounding of her heart. She was aware of everything about him, every minute detail, from the soft sleek blue of his navy silk shirt, to the narrow cut of his cream pants. His eyes were veiled by the long black lashes, but she was still conscious of their scrutiny. She didn’t exactly know what he intended to do, but whatever it was she ought not to be this close to him. She had the strongest desire to put up her hands and hold his face between them, smoothing the silver sideburns that grew down to his jawline. She wanted to twine her fingers in the thick strength of his hair which although it was straight was inclined to crinkle when it was disturbed. And she wanted to feel the hard passion of his mouth upon hers and make him lose that distant controlled politeness once and for all …
‘I was not mocking you, fräulein,’ he averred slowly. ‘As I told you once before, you intrigue me.’
‘My life before I came to Reichstein can hardly interest you,’ she murmured, endeavouring to bring a sense of normality back to their conversation. ‘But, as it happens, I did know a man in London. Unfortunately, he was married.’
‘I see.’ The Baron’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what made you suddenly decide you should not be involved with a married man?’
Victoria straightened her shoulders. ‘I didn’t know he was married—until just before I left!’ she replied shortly. ‘Now, is that all, Herr Baron? Or will you please tell me whether I should go and pack my cases?’
The Baron frowned. ‘Do you want to leave?’
Victoria sighed exasperatedly. ‘You know I don’t.’
He suddenly turned away. ‘Perhaps you should, fräulein,’ he muttered harshly.
Victoria shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Why?’
He glanced round at her. ‘Go, fräulein. Your apology is recorded!’ His tones were abrupt and cold.
With a painful pounding in her forehead, Victoria moved to the door. She was disturbed and ill at ease. The Baron’s sudden changes of mood were bewildering, and although he had dismissed her, she had the strangest
feeling that there was something more he wanted to say. But he made no attempt to detain her, and with a brief: ‘Goodnight, Herr Baron,’ she left the study.
The following morning the Baron came to his study while Victoria and Sophie were engrossed with their lessons. It was the first time he had interrupted them, and Victoria looked up warily, wondering why he had chosen to do so. It had been more difficult than usual arousing Sophie’s interest, and she had just succeeded in getting the child down to some serious work when her employer entered the room.
Sophie looked up delightedly, and smiled at her father. ‘Have you come to take me out again, Papa?’ she asked excitedly.
The Baron shook his head. ‘No, at least, not now. I wondered if perhaps this afternoon you and your governess might enjoy a trip down to Hoffenstein. I thought we could take the train that leaves just after noon. We could have a late lunch in Hoffenstein itself.’
Victoria tortured the pencil in her fingers as Sophie nodded vigorously. ‘Oh yes, Papa, do let’s do that. fräulein Monroe—you don’t mind, do you?’
It was the first time Sophie had shown any attempt to ask her governess’s permission, and Victoria appreciated it even if it was inspired by her father’s presence. But Victoria herself felt less enthusiastic. She was thinking far too much about the Baron von Reichstein already, and several hours spent in his company, with only the child for distraction, would be a dangerous situation.
‘Sophie can go, of course,’ she said now. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’ll stay at the schloss.’ She cushioned her refusal with a smile.
But the Baron was not put off. ‘But I do mind,’ he insisted, his eyes bleak. ‘The expedition was to have been a useful lesson for Sophie. There is a museum in Hoffenstein, a very interesting museum, with some excellent examples of Byzantine art and culture.’
Victoria compressed her lips. ‘I am sure Sophie will enjoy it equally well with you,’ she said carefully. ‘After all, your knowledge of such things must be far greater than mine, Herr Baron.’
The Baron folded his arms. ‘Why do you persist in thwarting me, fräulein?’ he asked angrily. ‘What possible excuse have you for remaining here at Reichstein when I am offering you an opportunity to see a little of the scenery of my country?’ His brows drew together. ‘Unless, of course, you have made a further assignation with your friend the doctor!’
Victoria rose to her feet. ‘I have made no assignations, Herr Baron.’ She gripped the edge of the desk tightly. ‘I merely believe that my accompanying you will serve no useful purpose!’
‘And what if I insist that it will?’ he snapped brusquely.
Sophie was staring from one to the other of them curiously. She sensed that there was more to this argument than the question of the trip to Hoffenstein, and she tugged her father’s sleeve.
‘If fräulein Monroe wants to stay here, I don’t mind, Papa,’ she said.
The Baron looked down at her with enigmatic eyes. ‘Do you not, Sophie?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Very well, we will go alone!’
Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, thank you, Papa.’
The Baron shook his head, casting a chilling glance in Victoria’s direction. ‘Don’t thank me,’ he said dispassionately, and went out without speaking to Victoria.
After he had gone, Victoria re-seated herself and said: ‘Well, as you are to be out this afternoon, you had better get on this morning, Sophie,’ in a brisk tone.
Sophie nodded, tapping her pencil against her teeth. ‘You don’t like my father much, do you, fräulein?’
Victoria flushed. ‘I neither like nor dislike him,’ she stated dismissingly.
Sophie frowned. ‘The other governesses liked him,’ she observed.
‘Then perhaps they were different from me,’ remarked Victoria dryly.
‘Yes, perhaps they were,’ murmured Sophie thoughtfully. ‘You don’t like me either, do you?’
Victoria sighed. ‘Of course I like you, Sophie. At least, I could if you would stop behaving like the heroine from some Gothic novel!’
‘What does that mean?’
Victoria shook her head. ‘Oh, nothing! You don’t like me—so you can’t expect me to go into raptures over you, can you?’
Sophie wrinkled her nose. ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘sometimes I find you funny.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Yes. Like when you stand up to Papa. Last night, for instance.’
‘Last night was very unfortunate.’
‘Why? Because you had a row with Papa?’
‘I suppose so. Even so, I shall come and go as I please, so don’t imagine because I apologised that I submit to all your father’s dictates.’
Sophie cupped her chin on her hand. ‘I’ve never seen Papa so angry as you make him.’
‘Indeed.’ Victoria bent her head. ‘Shall we get on?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’ She bent to her work for a moment, and then she looked up again. ‘Lessons aren’t so bad, are they?’
‘If you say not.’
‘Did you like school?’
‘Not particularly.’
Sophie grinned. ‘Didn’t you? Gute, I thought you would say you loved it.’
‘Why should I say that?’
‘People always say they liked school. Adults, I mean.’
Victoria had to smile. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t tell lies.’
Sophie looked at her textbook again. ‘If you do stay here, how long will you stay?’
Victoria raised her eyebrows. ‘Until you’re ready to attend a proper school again.’
‘A boarding school?’
‘I suppose so. They’re very good usually. I went to one. Holidays soon come round.’
‘Did your parents come to see you?’
‘My parents died when I was very young. My godmother brought me up.’
‘You have no father or mother?’
‘No.’ Victoria was guarded. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ Sophie chewed the end of her pencil. ‘Tell me about your school.’
‘Some other time,’ said Victoria firmly. Then she relented. ‘Tell me, Sophie, don’t you ever wish you had any pretty clothes to wear?’
Sophie looked up. ‘Maria knits my dresses and cardigans,’ she said.
‘I know. But don’t you ever wish you had some skirts—and blouses? And perhaps some trousers?’
Sophie sniffed. ‘Maria couldn’t knit trousers.’
‘I know.’ Victoria bit her lip. ‘But I could sew you some.’
‘You?’
‘Why not? I have some material.’
‘Do you?’ Sophie was interested, in spite of herself, Victoria could tell. ‘Why should you make me clothes?’
Victoria sighed. ‘Because I’d like to make you look more attractive,’ she replied. ‘Spring is coming. You can’t wear knitted dresses for ever.’
‘I have some cotton ones,’ said Sophie.
Victoria could imagine what they would be like. ‘Oh, well,’ she said, with feigned indifference. ‘If that’s all you want—--’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Sophie amended.
‘So?’
Sophie frowned again. ‘Could I see the material?’
Victoria nodded, feeling quite pleased. ‘If you like. But not now, and this afternoon you’re going out with your father. Tomorrow perhaps.’
‘All right,’ Sophie nodded, and with a faint smile on her lips she hunched her thin shoulders over her book. Victoria heaved a sigh of relief. Little by little, she thought wryly.
The Baron and his daughter left soon after eleven, but as Sophie had worked for two hours before leaving, Victoria could not complain. The child was beginning to show interest in things outside of her own personal problems and that was good. Sooner or later she would fully accept Victoria’s position in the household, but it could not be rushed. She was still very suspicious of Victoria’s motives.
After lunch Victoria read for a while in her room, but as the sun was qui
te brilliant, she decided to go for a walk. She ventured into the kitchen in search of Gustav and found only Maria, knitting.
‘Do you suppose it would be all right for me to take Fritz for a walk?’ she queried lightly.
Maria looked up in surprise. ‘I don’t know, fräulein. The hounds are the Herr Baron’s concern, not mine.’
Victoria compressed her lips. ‘Well, I can see no harm in it,’ she murmured, almost to herself. Then: ‘Where is Gustav? Perhaps he would give me permission.’
Maria shrugged. ‘He’s about somewhere.’
Victoria sighed. ‘I shan’t be long, you know.’
Maria shrugged again. ‘fräulein, if you wish to take out the dogs, we cannot stop you.’
Victoria digested this as a small reminder that Maria had been present the previous evening when she had been arguing with the Baron. Obviously, the old servant did not intend to get involved again, and she would rather Victoria did not involve Gustav either.
‘Very well,’ Victoria said now, ‘I’ll go and get my coat.’
‘Ja, fräulein.’ Maria returned to her knitting, and with an impatient gesture Victoria went out.
In her room she pulled on warm boots and her thick coat over a double thickness of sweaters. Her trousers were replaced by black vorlargers which she had brought with her because they were so warm.
The dogs were both in their usual position by the fire, and when Victoria whistled Fritz, Helga came too. Both dogs nuzzled her hand welcomingly and she could not in all decency take one without the other.
‘All right, all right,’ she said, with a smile. ‘You shall both come. Would you like a walk?’
The dogs wagged their tails as though they understood and Victoria walked briskly across the hall to the heavy front door. Outside, the air was freezing, but wonderfully invigorating. The dogs trotted along beside her obediently, and she felt quite important, having such a lordly escort. There was no sign of Gustav, but as Maria had said, she had to decide for herself what she ought to do, and while the Baron had maintained that the dogs could be unpredictable, she had her doubts. Certainly, Fritz seemed to feel he owed her something, and if Helga bounded on ahead, he rarely left Victoria’s side.
