"I heard," Estelle said, opting for some warm eggs. Her ventures in the night had left her distinctly chilled and she hadn't really warmed up since. The fire didn't quite warm her and she wished for a hot bath, a luxury not readily afforded to her on the skeleton staff of the castle. Instead, she had lain in bed, dreaming of warm summer days, when the grasses were long and gentle breezes shifted over the countryside. She missed the light greens of England, as opposed to the dark and heavy tones of the forests here. Even in summer, the endless pine trees wouldn't brighten, or even change. The valley would probably be nice though, with wildflowers and happily grazing cattle. Hopefully the wolves not so hungry.
"The count will see you in study," Balog said in his heavily accented English. It was probably the longest sentence he had ever spoken to her and she nodded.
The count wished to speak to her—in his study. This suggested he had censure for her beyond the disgusted look he'd thrown her way the previous night. Estelle smiled faintly and draped her napkin next to her plate. She was just about finished anyway, so she might as well get this over with.
Rising with her spine straight, she walked out of the dining hall and made her way to the count's study. He could not have had much sleep if he was awake and active this time of the morning.
She rapped her knuckle on the dark wooden door, heavily lacquered with an elaborate brass handle.
"Come in," she heard his deep voice from inside and she entered his study. It was warm and smelled of tobacco and masculinity. There was nothing at all feminine about the room, or the man who occupied it. Books lined the wall and the large desk had documents strewn across it. Leaning back in the chair, he considered her for a moment. "Please explain what you were doing running around the castle in your nightgown," he said, not an ounce of friendliness or congeniality in his voice.
"As I mentioned last night, I heard noises and went to check on Thomas."
"So you just happened to present yourself in your undergarments? And how exactly did you expect that to be received?"
Received? What was he implying? That she'd done it on purpose for some reason. "I wasn't expecting the house to be receiving arrivals, if that's what you're thinking. If you haven't heard, there's a madman running around the area killing women. Hushed voices in the middle of the night has a tendency to put ones hackles up, as it turns out," she said in her sharpest voice. She was not appreciating whatever it was he was insinuating. As if she would present herself in a state of undress on purpose. How dare he! It had been nothing short of terrified worry that had driven her to seek the commotion last night.
A raised eyebrow put silent questions to her. Perhaps she was being belligerent, but she didn't appreciate being questioned like this—accused of unspeakable things.
"Some would say that appearing in the middle of the night in one's undergarments is the act of a seductress."
Estelle huffed. "You can rest assured on that account. I have absolutely no intention of… anything of that nature." She couldn't even say the word; they were so outlandish. "And I feel like we've had this conversation before, yet it comes up."
"You keep on doing questionable things."
"Like trying to avoid being murdered? Like trying to ensure the safety of Thomas, your son. Perhaps it is you that has funny notions." Granted, perhaps she should have worn a jacket, but she hadn't thought of it at the time. This was a lesson she had definitely learned. Even in a roaring fire, she would take the time to dress more. But then she hadn't expected him to be there. "You really need to get it out of your head that I would even welcome any form of intimacy with you. Obviously, I have to spell it out to you. No, no and absolutely not."
"Yet you protest like a woman caught in the act."
Did she? She had no idea how women caught in the act behaved. She also behaved like a woman who was telling him that there was absolutely no risk, but perhaps to him they sounded alike. Estelle sighed. What else was there to say now? "You obviously wish to disbelieve me and is twisting everything I say to suit your purposes. There is nothing I can do about that. You will apparently continue believing that I am out to seduce you." The words actually flowed out quite nicely now. This was completely ludicrous and she was now angry. "So let's just leave it there, unless there is something else to say. I will dread, in the darkest hour of night, for a murderer sneaking into my bedroom, and you will dread I am sneaking into yours. Let's hope neither of us face our respective nightmares. Was there anything further you wished to discuss?"
She was actually too disgusted with him to look him in the eyes. If he wasn't gentlemanly enough to accept her explanation, then he could go on believing whatever he wanted. She knew a brick wall when she saw one. This was something she could choose not to respect, or to beat herself up about. Her intentions had been right and proper. Yes, she had been in her nightgown, but the circumstances had been extreme—even if he did not accept them.
Then again, he could fire her for his apparent certainty that she had designs on him. This was a scenario she had not actually faced before, a direct and standing accusation against her intentions and behavior.
He waved her away. Waved! Dismissed like a shamed dog. Her regard for him was dropping by the minute. Maybe she should terminate her employment. It would be a shame for both her and Thomas as they seemed to get along very well. There was only a few more months left until he would be sent off to school. It would be a shame if he had to face the uncertainty of getting a new governess, or worse, none. Him being stuck here alone while his father traveled to take care of his business and commitments seemed cruel, particularly now that such horrible events were unfolding.
Shaking the lingering malaise of this discussion off her, she made her way to her teaching room, where she and Thomas would spend a few hours talking about scientific theory. He was such a lovely boy, while the father was dark and brooding, and apparently suspecting all women of having less than honorable intentions. Was it this kind of behavior that made his wife so miserable and drove her to such drastic actions? Constant accusations and belittlement? With a little boy to care for, her misery must have been very grave to desert her motherly duties. Although she knew some people struggled endlessly with the darkness inside them, a relentless battle that offered little relief. These dark thoughts were uncomfortable and Estelle turned her mind to the lesson ahead. She didn't care to dwell on darkness if she had a choice. There was too much worry in the dark of night to devote her days to it as well.
Chapter 22:
* * *
Estelle was angry and disappointed, and frankly, she wished the count would go away again. She decided it was more comfortable in the castle with just her and Thomas. The count's presence, along with his clear prejudice against her, made her uncomfortable, as if some other accusation would be lodged at her. And seductress, really. It was ludicrous. She had never, and would never, seduce anyone in her life. Even the thought of it made her blush.
Granted, the count was a handsome man, maybe even the most handsome she had ever seen with his dark locks and eyes. Apparently, he was subjected to women trying to seduce him on a fairly regular basis. Granted, Estelle knew little of the trials and tribulations of being a handsome man. Obviously, her assurances that he was safe from her fell on deaf ears. She chuckled at the very thought.
Thomas was itching to get away. There was somewhere he was eager to be, she deduced. He had taken to wearing his sword everywhere he went, and Estelle couldn't fault the instinct. She actually felt better knowing he had some means of defending himself.
Right now, he was absently helping her place their books away. They had spent the morning studying the fall of Rome and the circumstances that had led up to it. It was a fascinating subject and both she and Thomas seemed to be enjoying the topic.
"May I intrude," a deep voice said from the doorway, and Estelle startled. The count had obviously sought them out. "You may go, Thomas," he said and Estelle smiled while she felt her heart sink. They were apparently going to h
ave one of their talks. Wonderful. What had she done this time?
Thomas needed no further encouragement and Estelle finished putting the books she was holding away on the bookcase containing their study materials. Some of them could probably go back to the library now, she thought.
Heavy and slow steps sounded behind her, and Count Drezasse stepped into her classroom. He was leaning on a desk as she turned around, his arms crossed in front of him. For some reason they had five desks. Perhaps in some bygone generation there had been more children in the house. The count himself may have sat at one of them. It was actually the first time that had occurred to her. He'd probably grown up in this castle.
She turned and smiled tightly, dreading whatever he wished to get off his chest.
"I seem to be doing a great deal of apologizing to you," he said, looking down at the desk and tracing something along its surface.
"You actually speak more of needing to apologize than actually doing so," she pointed out, holding her back straight and her shoulders square.
Now he looked at her, those dark eyes pinning her. His attention did have a curious effect on her, making her both nervous and comforted, for some reason, as if she felt safe when he was there. Again, it could be the fact that there was a madman running around, but maybe also that was because he was so very adamant that there be no intimacy between them. Normally, she was a bit wary of the masters of the houses, as there was always that underlying concern that they might try to kiss her.
"Then I must apologize for that as well," he said, apparently amused now.
Honestly, she could not keep track of his moods. One minute he was cold and accusing, the next warm and amused. Perhaps it was time to start wondering if their misshapen dealing was more to do with him than her. Her automatic assumption was always that she had done something wrong.
"I have behaved atrociously," he admitted.
"Atrocious might be a bit strong. Implacably might be better."
"Implacably?" he said with surprise. "I suppose I must accept that as I have been unwilling to take you at your word."
It was strangely embarrassing being apologized to. In a way, she simply wanted it to go away. "Apology accepted." Hopefully that would put an end to it.
"Past experiences have left me scarred," he continued.
"Apparently every female within a ten mile radius is set on seducing you." That was perhaps a glib and forward statement, but it had been what he'd been implying.
"There have been instances that have been very costly to all parties involved—devastating, in some cases." She recalled him mentioning that some woman had tried to force him into marriage. "It does aggrieve me that I have become so suspicious."
Estelle didn't know what to say. Should she assure him yet again that he was safe from her advances? At some point, one which they had already passed, this had become ridiculous, but she had to acknowledge that he had been damaged by some woman, or even several, in the past.
"I am sorry to hear that," she said, not knowing what else to say. "I seem to have a habit of walking into issues that trigger these things for you." Things that had been completely obscure to her at the time.
"Triggers that you have no way of foreseeing. I have treated you unjustly and I apologize."
"I appreciate you saying so," she said with a smile, hoping the matter was laid to rest. This was all quite embarrassing, because the horrid truth was that she did find him very attractive. It wasn't surprising to her that women threw themselves at him, and that made it all the worse, because in some sense, in thought, if not in action, she was guilty of his accusation. Not that she would ever presume invitation to his bedroom. But all in all, she wished this conversation over, and luckily he seemed to think this was a good place to end it, too.
*
The count was present when she walked into the dining hall for supper. She hadn't expected him to be there, but he sat at the head of the table, next to Thomas, who was clearly excited at having his father there.
"Miss Winstone," he said as he greeted her arrival. "I trust your afternoon has been restorative."
She'd spent it in her parlor reading and watching the snow fall. It was snowing quite heavily now, sitting across the valley like thick clotted cream. "I fear we are snowed in," she said.
"It is not a good time to travel. The roads are full of hazards on days like this." That was perhaps why he was here and not off somewhere. "These snows can last for weeks this time of year. When I was young, we were snowed in for months."
It had to be why he'd been in such a rush to get back here, arriving unexpectedly in the middle of the night. The snow had started and they could be stranded for lengths of time. She should have realized, but it hadn't occurred to her.
This had to mean that they were stuck here until the snows melted, or at least stopped. "Does the train run in times like this?"
"Not when the snow is heavy. We are alone and adrift for the time being."
Estelle certainly didn’t like the idea that they were cut off from the world around them, but she was glad the count was here, particularly as there seemed to be such uncertainty and fear in this place at the moment.
"It must be a respite for you to not travel for a while," she said. "You must find it hard to keep still."
"My schedule has been harsh. I have, perhaps, taken on more than I should have," he said and Thomas looked hopeful. "I must make an attempt to be more restful."
"You can rest now. There is nothing else to do," Thomas said. "We can play chess."
"We can," the count said. "Perhaps after supper."
Thomas was both excited and pleased. He had clearly missed his father and Estelle was pleased for him that they would spend some time together.
They had venison with a thick and flavorful jus. It was utterly delicious and the mood throughout supper was the lightest she had experienced in the house. Thomas hung on every one of his father's words, and after eating, they retreated to the salon, where a fire warmed the space.
Estelle read while the count and Thomas played chess, accepting a glass of the peach liqueur from Balog. Sitting here, she felt no worry at all. Everyone was safe and warm, and dark thoughts seemed far away. In a sense, this was what it must feel like to be a part of a family. Long, comfortable evenings by the fire. This wasn't her family and they were allowing her a place that wasn't rightfully hers, but for a moment she could guess what it would feel like. It had been the comfortable evenings with her father she had missed the most, and she'd feared she would never experience anything like it again. There was a good chance she wouldn’t. Perhaps this was what the count was worried about, that she would covet the place that didn't belong to her. But she could appreciate and absorb without coveting, or taking action to make it a reality. It wasn't reality; just a pretense, and it could be appreciated for what it was.
Chapter 23:
* * *
Thomas burst into the parlor where Estelle sat, making her jump. "Thomas," she chided. "You scared the life out of me."
"We're going down to the village," he said excitedly. "We're taking the sled. Come, hurry."
"Sled?" she said. She had never seen a sled, certainly not one they could take down to the village. For all she'd known, they'd been completely snowed in, but apparently they were going on an excursion.
"It's Kracun," he said, already out the door.
"It's what?" she asked, but he was already gone, clearly too excited to stay still for a moment and explain. Kracun, he'd said. She had no idea what that meant.
Putting her book to side, she rose and walked out to the main entrance hall. The count was there, dressed warmly in furs. He looked both exotic and foreign, romantic even, like a character in a book. Looking away, she cleared her throat. "You must dress warm if you are coming," he said.
"Thomas mentioned something about a sled." All she could imagine were the small sleds she had seen children use during winter back home, but the snow was too heavy for that.
&nbs
p; "Yes," he said. "It is almost ready." He turned to her. "You must dress."
"Of course," she said and hurried upstairs, still having absolutely no idea what was going on. Pulling out her traveling coat, hat and gloves, she dressed as warmly as she could. She had nothing that compared to the count's furs, but hopefully she wouldn't suffer too gravely. Pulling on her hat and gloves, she went downstairs again, where Thomas was jumping with excitement, dressed in a heavy coat like his father. "Now what is this Kracun you mentioned?"
"The winter solstice," he said. "A festival."
"Oh," she said. She'd had no idea there would be a festival in the village. "How lovely."
The count was absent for a moment, but then emerged suddenly, heading straight for the door in his typical large strides.
When Estelle got outside, she saw the sled, a large vehicle with long metal spurs attached that had sunk into the snow. It looked like it belonged in a fairytale. Unlike a normal carriage, the sled was stiff as she climbed up to sit beside the count and Thomas. A fur was placed on their laps by Balog, before the count took the reins and smacked them on the horses' rumps. It was slow at first, but quickly gathered speed, a slushing sound below as the horses pulled the heavy vehicle.
It was a very different feeling from a carriage as the sled could at times slide unevenly and even sideways, but was generally heavy enough to keep them stable. She could see why four horses were needed. It was a beautiful vehicle, paintings on the rounded front. It must be quite old, but obviously well maintained.
"I was not aware the winter solstice was celebrated here. In England, the solstices are regarded as rather pagan rituals."
"Its roots is very much pagan here as well," the count said, casting a glance at her. The sled took quite an active hand on behalf of the driver, she noted, but the count seemed very proficient. The horses were going at quite a pace, although the count would have to guess where the road was. He seemed to do so well enough. "It is the shortest day and belief was that the sun is defeated by the dark and evil power of the Black God. It is the night of lighting fires to chase the dark away."
The Governess Page 11