A Sister's Quest

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  The only difference was that he might be using Michelle D’Orage.

  Chapter Two

  Frau Herbart put a hand on Michelle’s arm. “Please sit. I have something you must see before you leave with Count Vatutin tomorrow.”

  Michelle perched on a chair and folded her hands in her lap. How could she have been so skimble-skamble as to accept an offer of employment from a stranger? Frau Herbart must have checked into the count’s background before she allowed him to speak with Michelle. That would explain why she had been prepared with tea for this visit.

  How astonished the other teachers would be to hear of her plans! Mayhap as astonished as she was that she could not wait to begin the journey across the Alps.

  Frau Herbart returned with a small package. The headmistress sat where Count Vatutin had and held it out without speaking.

  Michelle untied the strings around the brown paper to discover a small box and another package wrapped in linen. She opened the box and stared at a gold ring on a piece of black velvet. An odd design decorated one side. Her fingernail traced the lightning bolt.

  “Your mother requested that you be given this when you left St. Bernard’s.” An uneasy expression crossed the headmistress’s face. “I was unsure if she meant when you finished your studies or when you departed, so I have delayed.”

  “But what is it?”

  Frau Herbart murmured, “I believe it was her wedding ring.”

  “With such an odd design?”

  “It may have symbolized something to her and your father. Did she explain in the letter?”

  “I don’t see a letter.”

  Frau Herbart leaned forward. “When your mother gave me this package, she also gave me a letter for you. It must be there.”

  Michelle shook the brown paper. Nothing fell out.

  “I shall look for it in the morning,” Frau Herbart said. “It will be waiting when you come back from Vienna.”

  Michelle tried to smile, but could not. She slid the ring on and found a perfect fit on her middle finger. Dear Maman. Even after her death, she was reaching out to her daughter.

  She ran her finger along the ring, realizing she could not recall her mother wearing it. If it had been her wedding ring, Maman must have set it aside after her husband’s death.

  “Why don’t you open the other package?” the headmistress asked. “Mayhap what is in there will explain.”

  Michelle picked up the box, which was as long as her forearm and about as thick. Pulling off the cloth, she found a latched case. She opened it and stared at the coins inside. “Oh, my!”

  Frau Herbart said with a gasp, “There must be hundreds of francs in there.”

  Michelle counted out several coins. She closed the box and handed it back to Frau Herbart. “I will take enough to pay for my journey from Vienna if the situation becomes …” She sought the proper word. “Intolerable.”

  “I think that is wise.” She smiled as Michelle stood. “However, I think you and Count Vatutin shall do admirably.”

  Bidding the headmistress a good evening, Michelle went into the hall. She put the coins on a table as she tied her bonnet into place. The coins twinkled in the lamplight. How had Maman amassed this fortune?

  Maman had been like no one else Michelle knew. She had shown no interest in remarrying, although the lot of a widow could not have been an easy one. The cost of boarding Michelle at St. Bernard’s had not been insignificant, and every Christmas and birthday had brought gifts, and Michelle’s gowns never had been allowed to become threadbare or too short. Somewhere, somehow, Maman had garnered enough money to pay for the apartment as well as her daughter’s schooling and this generous bequest. But how?

  She was asking too late. Maman had died when a rock slide hit her carriage near the French border. Tears blurred the sparkle of lamplight. Raising her hand, she stroked her mother’s ring. The past was over and dead. It was time to put aside the life Maman and others had chosen for her and discover the life she wanted.

  Dawn painted the distant mountains with rosy light, but sunrise had not reached the valley. Night clung to the gray stone buildings as Michelle huddled by the drive. In the distance, she could hear the exuberant students as they prepared for the day. It would be more than a month before she heard that familiar noise again.

  Taking a deep breath, she tightened her black cloak around her. She sat on her small portmanteau and balanced her scuffed satchel on her lap. A yawn pulled at her lips. Sleep had not come easily last night as she waited to be thrust into a new life.

  Wheels rattled on the road. She gasped. The approaching carriage was as ornate as the coach of a fairy-tale princess. Gold trim outlined the doors and accented the buttons on the driver’s coat, which was as scarlet as the wheels. She should have guessed a Russian count would possess something this grand.

  The coachman jumped down and opened the door with a flourish. When Count Vatutin stepped out, his clothes matched the opulence of his coach. From his white leather gloves to the shine of his well-polished boots, he reeked of wealth. He brushed wrinkles from the black coat he wore over nankeen pantaloons.

  “Good morning, my lord,” Michelle said, her tongue almost tripping over the few words. She berated herself for being intimidated. She was not a schoolgirl.

  “Are you ready, Fraulein D’Orage?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling beneath the sound of the children’s.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her trunk. “Is this what you are bringing with you?”

  “I can bring less if—”

  “Less?” He laughed. “You may bring all you wish. The boot has plenty of room.”

  “This is enough.” She did not add that everything she owned was packed in this box. Two dresses and her underclothes were folded over her low boots and the few books she had slipped into the corners of the portmanteau.

  “Enough? I have met ladies who could not cross the street with so little.”

  “It should be plenty for the length of time I shall be working for you, my lord.”

  He motioned to the coachman, who hurried to place her things in the back of the carriage. Pointing to the open door, he added, “If you please, Fraulein D’Orage.”

  His icy gaze followed her toward the carriage. Was he displeased with the discrepancy in their appearances? Her clothes reflected her station. She recoiled as a hand was thrust in front of her.

  “Allow me, Fraulein.” Count Vatutin’s polite smile did not match the challenge in his emerald eyes.

  She must not let him think he could overwhelm her with simple courtesy, even though he had. She put her fingers on his palm as he handed her into the carriage.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Indeed, it was my pleasure.”

  She winced. His answer was too smooth.

  “Relax, Fraulein D’Orage,” he continued.

  Michelle started to reply, but paused when she saw a man sitting on the backward-facing seat. She glanced from him to the other blue velvet seat. Twisting the strings of her reticule, she wondered where she should sit. A lady should be allowed to ride facing forward, but she was serving Count Vatutin, and he might wish that seat for himself.

  She looked back at the man. His blue gaze drilled into her from an emotionless face. Wrinkles suggested he was older than Count Vatutin, and his hair was almost gray. Although his clothes were not as well made as Count Vatutin’s, they were sturdy and clean.

  Michelle said, “Good morning. Do you think I should—”

  “Do not waste your breath asking Rusak questions that he cannot answer,” came the count’s voice from the door.

  She looked at Count Vatutin. He took her hand and seated her on the forward-facing seat. Then he sat beside her, taking more than his share of the seat. Although she was tempted to edge away, she resisted. He would not appreciate her showing that she found it uncomfortable to be so close to his tightly restrained strength. Insulting him would not be a good
beginning.

  “Rusak?” she repeated, unsure if that was a name or a title.

  He gestured to the other man. “Feodor Rusak, my assistant.”

  “He does not speak German? I can—”

  “I know what languages you speak.” Drawing off his gloves, he said, “Rusak does not speak any, Fraulein D’Orage. He met with misfortune during the French army’s ignoble retreat from Moscow.”

  Rusak opened his mouth. His tongue was gone.

  She pressed her hands to her chest and recoiled, bumping her head against the hard line of Count Vatutin’s arm. In shock, she realized it was resting behind her. She was trapped between these two men she did not know. She should tell the count she had changed her mind. She should … She rocked back against Count Vatutin’s arm when the coach began down the road away from St. Bernard’s School for Girls.

  As Michelle tried to repair her tattered composure, she sensed Count Vatutin’s gaze on her. She should expect that he would be curious about the woman he had hired. She was curious about him, but his cool eyes had kept her from asking any questions. Slowly she faced him. She hoped the motion appeared natural instead of calculated. Pretending was idiotic, she realized, as her eyes met his. Amusement glistened there, warning he had taken note of every nervous motion.

  “How long will it take us to reach Vienna?” she asked.

  “We are in no hurry, Fraulein.” His pleasing voice resonated through his smile. “The Congress is officially open, but, with Napoleon imprisoned on Elba, the delegates wish to celebrate. I suspect little will be accomplished before the new year.”

  “The new year?” She gasped. “My lord, I must be back at school in six weeks. When—”

  His smile halted her. “When our work is done, you may return.”

  “But why weren’t you honest? I would have told you I could not come.” Horror filled her. Was everything he had told Frau Herbart a lie?

  “I need your skills, Fraulein.”

  “I have no idea how you do things in Russia—”

  “Differently than you do in France.”

  “I know little about France, my lord.”

  “But you were born there.”

  She frowned. “You are trying to cloud the issue. I cannot go to Vienna for so long. If you will return me to the school, I am sure—”

  “No!” He added as her eyes widened at his abrupt change from jesting to fury, “I have hired you, Fraulein, because you suit my needs. I doubt if there is another who would do as well.”

  She sat straighter, hitting her black bonnet against his arm. “Stop this vehicle! I shall walk back if you will not take me there.”

  “No.”

  “I … I … I—”

  “Stop sputtering like a hen.” When she flushed, he crossed one leg over the opposite knee. “The note I left for your headmistress explains the delay in your return.”

  “You did what?” In desperation, she looked at the silent man on the facing seat, but he was smiling. “You presume much!”

  Count Vatutin shrugged. “I need you. Therefore, I told Frau Herbart we had decided you would stay with me as long as necessary. I doubt if it shall be more than a few months.”

  “You are mad!”

  “Fraulein D’Orage, the world is insane.” His eyes glinted with frustration. She was not sure if it was aimed at her or someone else. She hoped it was someone else. “A generation of children has grown up thinking war is normal. Do you wish to turn your back on them?”

  Michelle tried to pull her fingers out of the strings of her bag, but they were so twisted, she was caught “I have an obligation to St. Bernard’s.”

  “Which you can fulfill when we are finished.” Smiling, he took her hands and began to unwind the string cutting into her gloved fingers.

  She looked from his face to his broad hands. Without his gloves, she could see they were hardened from a life much more strenuous than this one with elegant clothes and a luxurious coach. Count Alexei Vatutin was no more a gentleman diplomat than she was, but she could not guess what he might be.

  “Do you often get yourself into such predicaments, Fraulein?” he asked.

  Michelle bit back her sharp response, hoping he meant her reticule instead of how he had entangled her life with his. “I make every effort to avoid them.”

  “I suspected that.”

  She tried to pull her hands out of his. “I can just slip that off.”

  As if she had not spoken, he undid the final twist and let her purse drop across his knee. Massaging her fingers, he smiled again. “Would it offend you if I thank you in advance for your help? I know I have approached this in what to you seems an unorthodox manner, but the work we do is important.”

  “No, you would not offend me.” She was not sure what else she could say. Drawing her hands away, she snatched her reticule from his lap.

  He chuckled. “I am glad my fingers were not tangled in that! You would have pulled them from my wrist.”

  Her gaze rose along the sturdy length of his arm to the breadth of his shoulders. The idea that she could do anything to this powerful man was ludicrous.

  She gasped as he took her hand and turned it over on his. Running his finger along the lines in her palm, he mused, “We must be a team, Michelle.” He paid no attention to her gasp when he used her given name. Slipping his finger along her wrist, he etched an invisible pattern on her arm.

  Fearing she could not breathe as his face came closer, she stared at him. Slowly he curled her fingers beneath his, capturing them in a heated prison of flesh. A warm, silky sensation flowed along her as he drew her toward him.

  He tilted her wrist beneath his lips. Raising his gaze, he smiled. He held her eyes as he teased her wrist with a swift kiss. It was as if the lightning had escaped from her mother’s ring to rivet her with sweet, dangerous fire.

  His mustache brushed her wrist as he whispered, “I must know. Are you coming with us?”

  She stared into his eyes, which were half-hidden beneath the golden hair dropping over his forehead. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Only one correct one. Before you answer, heed what I wrote to Frau Herbart. If, at any time, you decide to depart, I shall immediately arrange for your transportation to Zurich at my expense.”

  “Why didn’t you mention that before?”

  A queer sound came from the other side of the carriage. Michelle choked back her despair when she realized it was Count Vatutin’s assistant’s laugh. She had forgotten he was here witnessing how easily the count had seduced her into giving him his way.

  “Rusak,” cautioned Count Vatutin in a tone that suggested he was trying not to laugh. “What have you decided, Michelle?”

  Fearing she was being foolish, but unwilling to turn her back on adventure before it began, she said, “I will continue to Vienna with you.”

  “For as long as I need you?”

  “For as long as I can.”

  When he smiled with satisfaction, her unease grew. It was not too late to change her mind. Or was it?

  The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a country house as the sun sank beyond the mountains. Count Vatutin stepped out and held up his hand. “Fraulein D’Orage?”

  “Thank you.” Michelle was proud her voice sounded serene. Placing her fingertips on his palm, she allowed him to assist her to the ground. She lifted her hand away and took a steadying breath.

  All day, Count Vatutin either had not noticed her discomfort or had chosen to ignore it. She must set it aside. She was going to Vienna, the very heart of the Hapsburg Empire. In Vienna, she would walk the same streets and view the same sights as kings and queens and emperors. This was the adventure she craved.

  As Count Vatutin gave instructions to the coachman, she looked at the inn. The wooden house rose four stories through a row of trees. The steep roof swept down to shelter the porch as well. Along the front of the house, small windows were separated by boards to protect them from the stormy weather off the Zurichsee.

>   Michelle smiled at the lake. They had followed its shores all day. Drawing her cloak more tightly around her, she walked toward a pier. A rickety rowboat waited, rocking with the gentle waves. She had loved rowing with Maman on this lake.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  She flinched when Count Vatutin’s voice shattered her memories. A shiver ran along her back. He must have followed her. She hoped he did not intend to intrude on everything she did.

  “I think it must be the most beautiful lake in the world,” she answered.

  “You were lucky to be here. This was one of the few peaceful places in Europe.”

  “Not all of Switzerland has been peaceful.” She could not keep her bitterness silent. “The French renamed us the Helvetic Republic and tried to remold us into a miniature of themselves. When that failed, they stole our young men to fight a war that we never wanted. Now, at last, it is over.”

  “Is it?”

  She turned. The light wind ruffled his hair. With the waning light on his face, its stern angles were emphasized by shadows. His mustache camouflaged his expressive lips, but the emotions in his eyes refused to be concealed. Rage burned there as brightly as the setting sun.

  “It is over,” she whispered, “for as long as we are vigilant.”

  His lips tilted in a smile. “You have an excellent grasp of the dangers awaiting us if we become complaisant. I am impressed, although I should not be surprised.”

  “As I think that may have been a compliment, thank you.”

  “It was indeed a compliment, Michelle.” When she glanced at him in surprise, he added, “I trust I may continue to call you that. It would not be inappropriate.”

  “No, it would not,” she said, knowing of no way she could explain how even this slight intimacy seemed too much when so many of her thoughts today had been haunted by the fire in his eyes as he kissed her wrist. When the breeze slipped beneath her cloak, she shivered.

  Count Vatutin’s keen eyes must have noted it. “Let’s go inside and see what meal awaits us. I, for one, shall be glad to sit on something stationary.”