"It does seem rather monumental, after being neglected for so long," she said, chiding him. "Did no one ever tell you the longer you let something run wild, the harder it is to get sorted again?"
"It is like you are referring to my manners."
Estelle chuckled and snipped another vine. The palm of her cutting hand would be sore by the time she laid the secateurs down later. "They are well beyond saving, I suspect."
His skin looked pale in the light outside, and in the sun his hair showed red tones amongst its blackness.
"You are welcome to join me," she suggested.
"No, I think not," he said. "Plants and I do not see eye-to-eye."
"It will be worth it."
"I doubt I will see them bloom. Once Thomas goes to school, I will likely spend more time in Budapest."
It was shame to think the roses would bloom their hearts out and there would be no one here to see them. Which again questioned why she was doing this. Well, because they were there and even if she would never see them, she would know they were blooming. The birds would enjoy the sight if no one else.
"What will you do when you return to England?" the count asked, as if reading her mind.
"I suppose I will seek another post somewhere."
The idea of uprooting herself again wasn't appealing, but it was part of her profession. Perhaps she would find employment with a large family that could use her services for several years.
"You have no home?"
"No, I do not," she said with a smile.
He walked along for a bit and looked out across the valley. "That must be difficult."
"I make do. There are a great deal of people who have it much worse than I."
"Do you always approach your setbacks with such circumspection?"
"Everything seems to come right in the end, I suppose."
"Yet you are a bundle of nerves when you are unsure of your position."
So he had noticed that. "It will not do for someone in my position to overstep the mark."
"Yet you do so consistently."
Estelle's mouth opened, but she couldn't think of anything coherent to say. Had she done it again? Was being here in the rose garden, pruning the plants, something she wasn't supposed to do? He had given her permission. "I thought you wanted me to address the garden. Was I supposed to decline?"
"Exactly like that," he said with a smile. "Are you always so eager to please?"
"I don't like to upset people. Particularly as I have to live in other people's houses and conform to their rules."
"You do little to break the rules, then?"
She had to wonder if he was teasing her. Perhaps he was bored and looking for someone to engage with. "No, I do little to break the rules. Life can be challenging enough without making things more difficult for yourself."
"What if the rules are wrong?"
"Then they must be challenged. Doing so is not always in one's power, however. I cannot change that only a few professions are open to me, even as I am of moderate intelligence and well educated, or that the pay for my work is largely abysmal. I may not like these things, but they are difficult for me to challenge."
"And if breaking the rules results in the betterment of your position?"
"Then it will often result in the worsening position for someone else. That is between a person and their conscience," she said distastefully.
He smiled, but she didn't exactly understand what was amusing him. "You would not better your position at the expense of someone else?"
"No. I am quite happy living with a clear conscience. Would you?"
"My family have fought wars for the betterment of their position and to the detriment of others, so it might be hypocritical of me to say no."
"I don't think I am suited for war."
"Then I hope you never have the cause to find out."
This was a strange conversation, as if he were testing her boundaries, but for what purpose? From showing very little interest in her, he seemed suddenly to show too much. Interest in the governess was something she had to be wary of. Good men didn't show interest beyond polite respect. Although she had never been in the employ of an unmarried man before. A blush crept up her cheeks. She would not have accepted the post if she'd known that.
"The countess appeared to be referring to a specific incident when you ruined a girl for your own pleasure," Estelle said, seeking his eyes.
"As I mentioned before, Miss Winstone, I do not take to being manipulated, particularly when a woman invites her own ruination as a means of forcing my hand into marriage. The woman in question deemed it a risk worth taking."
His answer surprised Estelle. "That is unconscionable."
"And before you question my sincerity, I can assure you it is true. With this woman, my objection to her ran deeper than her unconscionable tactics, and I refused to be party to her ploy. Her name was Liliana, in case the countess ever refers to the incident again."
Estelle felt ungenerous as she had effectively questioned his sincerity earlier. "I am sorry."
"I take it you to do not take well to being manipulated, either."
"I don't think anyone does."
"People fear the consequences of not complying more, at times."
Perhaps that was true. The accusation of being accused as a rogue did tend to stick, and some men would rather give in than have that attached to their names. The count was apparently not one of them.
"Justice sometimes has a price," she said. That had been one of her father's sayings. Also that good deeds sometimes were punished, but they were still as important as the celebrated ones. A sadness spread through her at the thought of her father. She missed him every day.
"At times, the guilty find means to punish themselves," he said with a quick bow, then walking back toward the castle. Again it had been an odd conversation and she wasn't sure what its purpose had been. He walked with a straight back and long strides. Like that, she could imagine him on a horse charging into battle. Perhaps he was testing her for unconscionable tendencies. She was, after all, entrusted with his son's education and welfare.
Chapter 18:
* * *
The chaise bounced as they drove out of the castle, the snow cleared enough that they could use the road. Estelle took the chance to accept the professor's invitation before the snow returned. The air was icy, but the sun brightened everything. The horse also seemed pleased to be out after the long, wet autumn. If it clouded over, it would snow and they would have to rush back again.
Thomas sat next to her, slightly grumpy that she wouldn't let him take the reins. Truthfully, she didn't quite trust his enthusiasm to not run away with him. He had a tendency to throw himself into tasks and not see the dangers in what he was doing.
"Do I have to stay?" he pleaded.
She would say yes, but the professor had in the past shown equal determination to shove Thomas out the door. "Perhaps you could stay a few minutes and say hello. That would be cordial to the minimum degree."
"The man is dull."
"Perhaps, but it is impolite to suggest so. At times, we must accept people for how they are. Everyone is fully in their right to be dull." In her past, she had sat through the endless prattling of elderly ladies starved of company, so she did understand. "Being patient is the polite and kind thing to do."
Thomas huffed in exasperation.
The snow had been cleared off the road that led into the village and there was a group of villagers standing in the middle of the main thoroughfare, talking amongst each other. Something was wrong. Estelle felt it up her spine like a tingling, and the hairs on her arms rose.
It seemed the whole village was there, although none of them paid her and Thomas more attention beyond their typical narrowed eyes. Familiarity did not improve their friendliness, it seemed.
The professor stood by his gate without his jacket and with his arms crossed. His attention seemed to be on the crowd of people.
"Has something happen
ed?" she asked.
"Another girl has gone missing," he said with a serious expression on his face.
Estelle gasped in shock. That couldn't be, was her initial reaction, but by the look of the milling people, it had to be true. Two girls gone missing made it appear something nefarious was going on.
"Surely, she has run away?" Estelle said, her voice too high pitched. She wasn't sure she believed that, but she wanted it to be true. There was a possibility it was true, but for two girls to run away form a village like this, it didn't fit with how surprised and upset the villagers were.
"Come inside," the professor said, concern obvious in his voice. Surely there wasn't some danger?
Estelle got down and urged Thomas to do the same. "I think it is better that you stay with me and the professor," she said to him.
"But—" he went to argue, upset she would suggest something like that when there was obviously upset and agitation in the village.
"I won't hear of anything else," Estelle said sternly and Thomas was young enough to not dare countermand such an order. Grudgingly, he followed into the professor's house. "This is terrible," she said. "Poor girl."
"They will do another search, of course." The professor sat down by the parlor table where tea had already been prepared. "The count must be informed."
Estelle blinked. She knew the professor seemed to hold the count in low regard for some reason, and she didn't understand why. "He is not here at the moment."
"I understand he was there yesterday."
"He left in the afternoon," Thomas filled in. Estelle hadn't actually seen him go, had only heard Thomas mention it at breakfast.
"He does seem to disappear at the most inopportune times, doesn't he?"
"He has so many obligations," Estelle said, feeling the need to defend him.
"Your and Thomas' safety should, of course, be at the top of that list," the professor said disapprovingly.
"I can defend us," Thomas said. "I can use a sword better than anyone here. If anyone comes, I will run them through. I'll show you." Thomas stood and showed his parries and blocks.
"That is not without a doubt," the professor said indulgently. "But we have to consider that there is something very dark under foot, and they may not conduct themselves according to the rules of swordsmanship. This girl was apparently taken out of her bed," he continued quietly, so Thomas couldn't hear.
Estelle gasped again, her hand covering her mouth.
"I will slice any fene to bits," Thomas said bravely, thrusting his invisible sword.
"It may have a human face, but it may well be some version of fene we are talking about," the professor said.
Despite wanting to argue against giving into superstitious nonsense, Estelle couldn't quite. If someone was stealing girls out of their beds, it had to be some form of monster. This was not behavior she could account for, behavior she could recognize as human. "This is just awful."
"Naturally, the people here are upset," the professor continued, dunking a biscuit into his tea. "They will search far and wide, but it wouldn't surprise me if they found nothing again like last time. I will join them shortly."
"There is nothing left when a fene is done with its victim," Thomas said as if he was discussing some natural and real phenomena.
Estelle, on the other hand, could not get her mind to make heads or tails of this. "It has to stop."
"As you know, they are not the first women to die around these parts," the professor said meaningfully.
It was too much for Estelle to take in. She had no idea what to say or do; she could only sit with her hand covering her mouth, looking out the window. Thomas was busy looking at something on the professor's bookcase, so he hadn't heard the professor's last comment.
The only other death she knew of was Countess Drezasse, but obviously, that was not related. Surely he wasn't suggesting they were. The countess took her own life. If that were the case now, the girls' bodies would be found—unless they threw themselves in the river and were carried away. A deep shudder shifted through her at the thought, imagining the cold water and the sheer hopelessness. Distressed women did such sad and horrible things when they saw no way out of their misery.
"Of course, you must fortify yourself, but you shouldn't stay too long today," the professor continued. "Tempers are running high and the peasants are not looking with tolerant eyes on any incomers."
"That must make things difficult for you," she said, as he was here, a part of the village.
"Oh, they know me and know I can be trusted," he said reassuringly. "I will be fine. But the relationship with the castle has always been tentative, you understand. Histories in this area go back a long way to times when the relationship between the peasants and the landed nobility weren't so cordial."
Cordial would not be a word she would have chosen, judging by the rude treatment she received, but perhaps she didn't understand how poor the relationships had apparently been.
"It is a fascinating and sordid history," the professor went on. "I will tell you about it someday. I am sure you know all about the Dózsa revolt, don't you, Thomas?"
"Seventy thousand peasants were tortured and it weakened the Hungarian people ahead of the Ottoman invasion," Thomas stated as if by rote.
"That's right," the professor said, pleased in the way teachers rewarded correct answers. Estelle only stared between them. "Sadly, they still hold a grudge."
"I think I would, too," she said and her answer amused Professor Szousa because he chuckled.
"As I said, fascinating history. Some still don't properly value the lives of those beneath them. And that always leads to trouble, does it not, Thomas?"
"Of course," the boy confirmed and found another fascinating object amongst the professor's possessions.
"Now, you should get back before the weather turns again," he said, having shifted out of his teaching persona.
"Surely we must help with the search." Estelle was wearing her most sturdy boots, and both she and Thomas were properly dressed for the weather.
"I think it best you return to the castle and stay away. There is less hope for this search and lack of hope leads to anger. It think it best not to give them a target."
"Surely they would not blame me or Thomas, or even the count, for this."
"No, of course not, but as I said tempers are running high and distraught relatives tend to be irrational. Best not to take any chances, particularly as you don't speak the language or are familiar with their customs. In times of distress, little things can be blown out of proportion."
"Of course," Estelle said. It sounded perfectly logical when he explained, but at the same time utterly illogical. Talk of murder and fenes, and torture, all sat as cloying confusion in her mind. She had never felt as foreign here as she did today. Then the long and sordid history between the gentry and the peasants. And simply the fact that she'd just used the term peasants. That was not a reference she was familiar with, and certainly not one used in Britain. Then again, it was not all that long ago these villagers here were actually serfs according to what she'd read. It was incomprehensible, but she had to remind herself that this was another culture and things were different here. Perhaps that was what the professor was warning her about, and she should listen.
Chapter 19:
* * *
"Why can't I go searching with the others?" Thomas asked as they drove back to the castle. The road felt much longer than it had when they'd set out for the village.
"The professor suggested we leave them to search."
"But I am fast when I'm riding. Faster than any of them. Giji is rested and I can help."
Estelle sighed. How could she explain something that was, in many ways, illogical? "The people in the village are very angry at the moment, and some perhaps feel your father should have done more to prevent this. They might take that anger out on you."
"But my father has nothing to do with this," Thomas challenged.
"When people are angry
, they look for someone to take their anger out on, justified or not."
"But he is not here," Thomas said, clearly exasperated by her explanation.
"Anger sometimes makes people irrational and it is best to stay away." She wasn't explaining it well, but the professor had sensed danger for them and that was a warning she took seriously, having very little reference to judge the situation by. She didn't know these people, or their culture, but their history suggested a tense relationship between classes. Arriving here, she'd thought it had been her foreignness that the villagers had so intensely disliked, but looking at it now, it could very well be her class. By her dress, she was not one of them, hence of the count's class. Technically, she was, even though she was of a much lesser order than him. They did perhaps not see the distinction. "How about we do some paper cut outs?"
"I'm not six," Thomas said grumpily.
"Alright, then. Why don't you teach me some of your sword skills?" She was desperately trying to think of something that would distract him.
"Alright," Thomas said, clearly liking this suggestion more.
It was darkening as they drove over the bridge into the castle. They made a clattering noise over the cobblestones, but Estelle didn't expect Balog to be there as he was probably down in the village searching with the others. Again it returned to her, how awful this all was. The feeling that something was going on had now firmly lodged in her chest—something dark and sinister.
She hated to admit this, but she hoped these girls hadn’t suffered, or weren’t suffering. A more distant hope was that these girls had run off, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it. Even in her village, which was by far nowhere near as isolated and insular as this one, girls rarely left for any reason and wouldn't even think of running off. The odd widow might, but the world was too scary a place to simply run off for the girls she knew. If they fell in love, it was usually with some boy nearby and resulted more in dramatics than in flights across the country. There had, of course, been the odd elopement, but they usually came back, lodged themselves in a nearby house with their new husbands.
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