It had obviously originally been a Nursery. There was the high fire-guard, the screen, the table in the centre of the room, and the rocking-horse that made it a prototype of Nurseries in every country all over the world.
But as a concession to Jean-Pierre’s advanced years there was a blackboard, a child’s small desk, and a large map of Europe suspended on a wall.
“I expect the little boy is asleep at this time of the night,” Larisa said.
“He goes to bed at six o’clock,” the Nurse answered.
‘Just as I was made to do at that age!” Larisa smiled. “It always seemed too early in the Summertime.”
Just for a moment she thought there was a flicker of a smile in the old woman’s eyes before she replied:
“It’s important for him to have plenty of sleep.”
“Yes, of course,” Larisa agreed.
Nurse indicated a room which was one of two leading out of the Nursery.
“Jean-Pierre is in there,” she said. “I am next door. I have always slept there and I see no reason for change.”
She spoke truculently, and Larisa guessed that this had been a bone of contention with other Governesses.
“I have no wish to make any changes as to where Jean-Pierre or you sleep,” she said quickly. “All I am concerned with is teaching him, and I am sure he would much rather have you near him at night.”
“I’ll show you to your room, M’mselle,” the Nurse said.
This proved to be just across the passage and was a small, pleasant room which looked over the front of the Chateau.
Larisa had an idea that it would have a magnificent view, but for the moment it was too dark to see anything clearly.
While she had been in the School-Room with Nurse two footmen had carried up her trunks.
Now they were set down in the centre of the room.
“Suzanne will help you to unpack,” Nurse said.
“I can manage by myself if she is busy,” Larisa replied, then asked: “Who is Suzanne?”
“She is a School-Room maid,” Nurse answered. “At this moment she will be fetching your supper from downstairs. As soon as she has brought it into the School-Room she will let you know.”
“Thank you very much.”
Larisa paused for a moment and then added:
“I hope, Nurse, that you will help me. This is my first position. I am very anxious to do what is right and of course I am afraid of making mistakes.”
Nurse looked at her sharply. Then suddenly her hostility vanished as she said:
“You’re very young, M’mselle. We were expecting someone older.”
“So will you tell me what to do?” Larisa asked pleadingly.
“Monsieur le Comte will do that,” Nurse answered in a tone of voice different from what she had used before, “but don’t be too frightened of him, M’mselle. He only wants what is best for his grandson.”
“He is fond of him?” Larisa asked.
“Jean-Pierre is the apple of his eye,” the Nurse replied. “But he asks too much of a small boy. That’s what I say, but he’ll not listen to me. He asks too much!”
As Nurse was speaking she opened Larisa’s trunk. The footmen had undone the straps and now she began to take out Larisa’s gowns and carry them to the wardrobe.
“What shall I wear to meet Monsieur le Comte?” Larisa asked, and she thought that Nurse looked pleased because she sounded helpless.
“Nothing too elaborate.” she answered. “In fact, something simple. I imagine Monsieur also is expecting someone older.”
“I see that I must’ convince Monsieur le Comte that I am a good Teacher.” Larisa said. “Surely that is what is important, not whether one is old or young?”
“The previous old ones were certainly quite useless!” Nurse said, and now there was a touch of venom in her voice. “Coming here, giving their orders, pushing people around! Not one of them lasted long! It’s not surprising if the child has learnt nothing!”
“Oh dear!” Larisa said. “I hope I can succeed where they have failed!”
“Now don’t worry yourself, M’mselle,” Nurse said in a motherly tone. “Wash and put on one of these pretty gowns, and when you have had something to eat I’ll tell Suzanne to go downstairs and say you are ready for when Monsieur le Comte can see you.”
Larisa felt almost as if she was still a child herself as she obeyed.
Nurse was so like her own Nanny who had looked after them all since Nicky had been born that she found herself chatting away quite naturally.
She told the old woman how much the School Room was like the one they had at home and how their own Nurse still thought of them as being under her care, and quite incapable of doing anything without her help.
“How many years have you been at the Chateau?” Larisa asked.
“Forty!” Nurse replied. “I came when I was a girl to work in the house. Then when Madame la Comtesse required an extra lady’s-maid, I helped look after her. She took a fancy to me, so when Monsieur Raoul was born I helped her old Nurse, who was almost on her last legs, to look after the baby.”
Nurse sighed.
“And what a beautiful baby he was. When the old Nurse died I had him all to myself.”
“He was a good baby?”
“Yes, but he grew into a regular little pickle! But then he twisted me round his little finger; I could refuse him nothing.”
‘Like all the women he was to know later!’ Larisa thought.
She found that her interest quickened at the mention of Monsieur Raoul but she thought it unwise to ask too many questions.
She had the feeling that having broken the ice where the Nurse was concerned she would hear in time the answers to all her questions without appearing curious.
The supper awaiting her in the School-Room was served on small silver dishes and was delicious.
“You’ll have to let Chef know tomorrow what are your preferences,” Nurse said. “He’s very obliging, but the last Governesses drove him to distraction, poor man! One could not eat cheese, another mushrooms, a third one nothing cooked with eggs—there was no pleasing them!”
“I eat everything!” Larisa said. “And if every meal is as good as this I shall get so fat that I shall have to let out all my gowns!”
Nurse seemed pleased at her appreciation.
She would have withdrawn politely while Larisa ate but instead Larisa indicated a chair at the table and said:
“Please sit down and talk to me. There is so much I want to hear.”
Nurse looked surprised and so Larisa added:
“Unless of course you are waiting for your own supper?”
“No, indeed.” the Nurse answered, “we have ours later, after the Dining-Room has finished.”
“The Dining-Room are eating now?” Larisa enquired.
Nurse nodded.
“Then Monsieur le Comte will not be sending for me until after he has finished,” Larisa said, “so do please stay with me.”
She saw that the old Nurse was pleased with the invitation and guessed that previous Governesses had tried to prove themselves very superior from the moment of their arrival.
Having had a Nurse of her own for so many years, Larisa was well aware how easy it was for a newcomer to cause umbrage or to encroach on privileges which had become traditional.
Looking back, she could remember when they had had Governesses, before her father had got rid of them. There had been an endless battle between the School-Room and the Nursery.
She had the feeling that perhaps Nurse would be her only friend in the Chateau.
Already she was feeling slightly depressed by Madame Savigny’s attitude and what she had been told about her predecessors, so she was ready to cling to her not only for the sake of peace but because she genuinely needed her help.
“Tell me about Jean-Pierre,” she asked when she had finished her supper.
Suzanne hadbrought a pot of coffee which she had set down on a table after she had re
moved the tray.
“He’s a happy child,” Nurse replied.
“He must find it rather lonely here, or are there other children with whom he can play?” Larisa asked.
“He’s quite content,” Nurse said quickly.
Larisa made a note that the suggestion of companions might be a tricky subject. Then she said tentatively:
“He must miss having a mother, but perhaps he sees a lot of his father?”
She knew this was a pertinent question and she fancied that the Nurse hesitated before she said:
“What a child doesn’t have he doesn’t miss! Jean-Pierre is happy enough if people do not try to push him into doing things of which he is not capable.”
She spoke almost sharply, and Larisa realised that her question about Jean-Pierre’s father had remained unanswered.
There were so many more things she wanted to know, but before she could work Nurse round to answering the right questions the summons came for her to meet Monsieur le Comte.
A footman brought the message.
“Monsieur le Comte asks if M’mselle will descend immediately to the Salon.”
The order sounded rather awe-inspiring and Larisa glanced at Nurse as she rose from the table.
“Don’t be frightened,” Nurse said to her in a quiet voice that only she could hear. “Remember he loves the child.”
Nevertheless Larisa could not help feeling nervous as she followed the footman down two flights of stairs to the ground floor.
They walked along wide and well-proportioned corridors until they reached two large doors painted and gilded in the exquisite fashion of the Eighteenth Century.
The footman pulled them open and Larisa entered one of the most impressive Salons she had ever seen.
It was nearly square, with long windows covered with hand-embroidered curtains.
The carved gilt panels on the walls were surmounted by a ceiling which was painted with a profusion of goddesses and cupids.
There was an Aubusson carpet on the floor and the gilt-and-damask sofa and chairs were of the reign of Louis XIV.
The other furniture of the same period would have delighted any connoisseur, and the commodes with their marble tops and ornate handles were the finest she had ever seen outside a picture-book.
She had only a very quick impression of the room, for her interest was focused on a man sitting at a flat-topped rose-wood desk in the centre of it.
The high back of the carved chair behind him was a frame for one of the most distinguished-looking old men Larisa had ever seen.
He looked, she thought to herself, intimidating yet awe-inspiring and autocratic, but at the same time he had a presence that one could not help admiring.
Feeling rather like a school-girl about to be reprimanded Larisa advanced slowly across the room, conscious that the Comte’s eyes were on her until she reached the desk,
She curtseyed and waited for him to speak first. “You are Miss Larisa Stanton?” he said, speaking, to her surprise, in almost perfect English.
“Yes, Monsieur le Comte.”
“I have already learnt from my sister. Madame Savigny, that you appear to be a great deal younger than we had expected.”
“I am sorry if I disappoint you. Monsieur le Comte.”
“I did not say I was disappointed.” the Comte said, “I was merely stating a fact. Governesses usually appear to be of an indeterminate age, but at least over thirty!”
There seemed to be no answer to this so Larisa remained silent.
After a moment the Comte said:
“You may sit down. I wish to talk to you.”
“Thank you, Monsieur.”
Larisa sat on the edge of a hard-backed chair that was set in front of the desk.
She dropped her eyes, conscious that the Comte was watching her.
“You are a good Teacher?”
“I hope I may prove myself to be.”
“This is your first situation?”
“Yes, Monsieur. I thought my God-mother. Lady Luddington, would have explained to the Comtesse de Chalon the reason why I am forced to seek employment.”
“I was merely told,” the Comte replied, “that you were a suitable person to enter my household and that your English would be impeccable.”
“I hope that is true,” Larisa answered. “My father, who wrote several books on Greek antiquities, was most particular that we should speak both eloquently and correctly.”
“That is what I want for my grandson,” the Comte said positively.
There was a pause before he went on:
“I can see now that I have met you, Miss Stanton, that you are different from what I expected, but it may be for the best.”
Larisa’s eyes were on his face as he continued:
“The women who have come here calling themselves Governesses have had no idea how to teach. Jean-Pierre is an exceptional child. He is capable of learning only from someone who had gained his confidence.
“It is important, make no mistake about it from the very beginning, that he should be properly educated so that when the time comes he can take my place as the head of the family.”
Larisa suppressed an inclination to say that that was obviously a long time ahead as the Comte continued:
“One day he will sit where I am sitting now. He will direct and rule over this Estate, which has been in my family for over seven hundred years! He will add new laurels to our illustrious name and he will as a man be respected and admired.”
It seemed to Larisa that the Comte spoke almost fanatically, and she understood what the Nurse had meant when she said that Monsieur le Comte loved his grandson.
There was a pause in which Larisa felt she was expected to speak and after a moment she said softly:
“I will do what I can to make Jean-Pierre worthy of the ambitions you have for him, but at the moment he is only a child.”
“The child becomes the man!” the Comte said. “You know the Jesuits say: ‘Give me a child until he is seven and I will mould his character for life’!”
Larisa did not know what to reply to this, and then he said harshly:
“Let us hope that is not true. The fools, the imbeciles who have tried to teach him up till now, have gone the wrong way about it. They have antagonised him and turned him against learning. There is a shutter in a child’s mind which he can close when he does not wish to learn.”
“I am sure that is true,” Larisa said, “and I am sure it is no use absorbing a lot of facts until one understands what they mean.”
“You are right there,” the Comte agreed in a tone as if he was surprised at her observation.
“What I will try to do,” Larisa said, “is to make Jean-Pierre interested in knowing more. That is the first step, I am sure, towards learning anything of value.”
“You are obviously intelligent. Miss Stanton!” the Comte said. “At the same time, Jean-Pierre is not an ordinary little boy. He is exceptional! And that is what I want him to be. Exceptional in every way! A credit to the House of Valmont!”
Again there was that strange, fanatical note in his voice before he continued:
“Can you imagine what it is like, Miss Stanton, to realise that the continuance of the family is centred in one child—one boy?
“To know that our history, which is a part of France and a heritage which has inspired and sustained me all my life, could end with my death?”
Larisa found herself longing to ask why everything should rest on Jean-Pierre. What about Comte Raoul? Surely he would inherit when the Comte died?
Comte Raoul was a young man. Why should he not marry again and have other children—another son?
Yet it seemed that Monsieur le Comte was ignoring his very existence.
It was of course impossible for her to put such ideas into words. All she could say was:
“I hope, Monsieur, that you will not expect results too quickly. First I must get to know Jean-Pierre and he must get to know me. If he has been badly t
aught in the past it would be a mistake to worry him with lessons the moment we meet.”
She thought for a moment, then continued:
“I will talk to him first in his own language, then gradually hope to get him interested in learning English. In a house like this there must be fascinating History-lessons in everything he sees.”
The Comte seemed pleased at what she said, although the severity of his face hardly relaxed.
“I will leave you to put your own methods into practice, Miss Stanton,” he said, “but I wish to be kept informed of Jean-Pierre’s progress. I do not want to be left in the dark. I will not be lied to. Do you understand? I will not listen to or hear any lies about him.” He spoke violently and for the first time since Larisa had been in the room he moved, bringing his fist down heavily on the desk in front of him so that the gold ink-pot rattled.
“I can think of no reason why I should lie to you, Monsieur,” Larisa said with dignity. “At the same time, I hope you will not frighten me.”
“Frighten you?” Monsieur le Comte looked at her in surprise.
“I have told you quite honestly,” Larisa said, “that this is the first time I have been a Governess. I want to feel confident that I am doing the right thing, and fear is very unsettling.”
“I have a feeling, Miss Stanton,” le Comte said, “that you are a somewhat unusual type of Governess.”
“My father disliked the whole race!” Larisa answered. “I am very anxious not to be one of the sort that he condemned as ‘imbeciles’!”
“I think that is unlikely,” le Comte replied.
For the first time Larisa thought there was an almost human expression on his face.
The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24) Page 6
