by Anne Mather
Victoria shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she replied, and raised the glass to her lips.
Her first impression was that it was very sweet, perhaps a sweet wine of extra strength, but the taste it left in her mouth was definitely that of brandy. The Baron watched her tentative experimentation and said: ‘It is quite safe, fräulein. You will not disgrace yourself by becoming intoxicated.’
Victoria was not so sure. The little she had drunk had warmed her stomach instantly, and as she took a little more a glow began to spread along her arms to the extremities of her fingertips.
The Baron satisfied himself that she wanted nothing else and then seated himself beside her, regarding her intently. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘am I forgiven?’
Victoria coloured. ‘Of course, Herr Baron.’ She considered him covertly through her lashes. ‘After all, I am hardly in a position to object to anything you do, am I?’
The Baron uttered an impatient exclamation. ‘Do I give you such an impression?’ he questioned harshly.
Victoria felt ashamed. ‘No, of course not. I was merely baiting you, that’s all. I won’t do it again.’
He bent his head and studied his glass thoughtfully for a moment, and then he lifted his shoulders in an eloquent gesture. ‘I am afraid I am out of practice when it comes to sophisticated verbal fencing,’ he said. ‘But seriously, I do not feel that you regard me as someone to be feared.’
Victoria finished her drink. It had certainly improved with each mouthful and had warmed her through and through. She was feeling comfortably relaxed, so much so that a distinct drowsiness seemed to be stealing over her in this firelit room. The Baron was staring broodingly into the flames and she wondered what thoughts occupied his mind. She found it difficult to understand why his wife seemed to play little part in his life, for he was obviously an honourable man, capable of strong emotions, a man it would be fatally easy to love …
With determined effort, she got hastily to her feet, and he looked up at her in surprise. ‘There is no hurry, fräulein,’ he commented, his brilliant blue eyes surveying her with appraisal.
Victoria shivered suddenly, and turned away, drawing on her gloves again. Maybe it was because he was not the kind of man to indulge in any kind of light verbal flirtation that she found him so dangerously disturbing. Glancing at her wrist watch, she said quickly:
‘By the time we get back to Reichstein, Herr Baron, it will be lunchtime, and I want to see Sophie this afternoon.’
With a sigh, he finished his beer and rose to his feet, looking down at her as she fastened her headscarf over her hair. ‘Tell me, fräulein, is your hair naturally that colour?’ he murmured, startling her.
Victoria found it difficult to get her breath. ‘Why—yes, of course,’ she answered uncomfortably.
‘The severe style stuits you,’ he remarked, his eyes enigmatic. ‘But I should like to see it loose.’
Victoria swallowed hard. ‘It’s very straight,’ she strove for lightness.
The Baron put up a hand as though he would touch one of the tendrils that curled in front of her ears, and then, when Victoria’s heart palpitated wildly, he dropped his hand again.
‘Come,’ he said roughly. ‘You are right. It is getting late.’ And with those words, he turned and strode out of the parlour.
Heaving a shaky sigh, Victoria followed him, and all the way back to the schloss she was aware that she had in some way displeased him. She wondered whether he had recalled that he had suggested that she should have her hair cut, but whatever it was he was abrupt to the point of curtness whenever she attempted to make some casual remark.
She left him in the courtyard after thanking him for taking her. But he barely acknowledged her courtesy, and she snatched her parcel from the back seat and walked quickly into the schloss. She chose the main entrance to avoid Gustav and Maria. They were bound to have heard the car anyway, the distinctive sound of the chains on its wheels making it an unmistakable vehicle, and she had no desire to have to conduct a conversation about her outing with them right now.
She ran swiftly up the stairs to her room, and breathed a sigh of relief as she swung open her door. And then she stopped dead, as her eyes surveyed the chaos that greeted her. The room was in complete disorder. All drawers had been pulled out of their holes and the contents emptied haphazardly on the floor. Her wardrobe had been opened, and all the hangers cleared, her suits and dresses strewn in every direction. The bed which she had made before breakfast had been stripped, and even her shoes had been scattered. Nylon tights had been wrenched violently out of their plastic cases, and draped carelessly over her trunk so that Victoria doubted whether any of them could be free of ladders. She had no doubt who was to blame. Only one person at the Schloss Reichstein had in her the spite to do such a thing, but that didn’t make it any the easier to take. On the contrary, Victoria felt like nothing so much as sitting down and weeping. Either that or go for the Baron and show him what his precious daughter could achieve!
CHAPTER FIVE
ENTERING the room, Victoria closed the door and leant back against it wearily. It would take her hours to sort out the mess. She supposed she ought to feel grateful really that Sophie didn’t appear to have done any actual damage to anything. She could so easily have taken her action to extremes. Or was that part of her cunning? Unless Victoria chose to go now and find her employer and bring him here and show him the mess, she had nothing to prove what had happened. A ripped dress, or an ink-stained suit, was quite another matter. No, Victoria had to admit, Sophie didn’t take chances. She was gambling on Victoria not reporting her to her father, and her reasons for doing such a thing might well have to do with Victoria accompanying the Baron to the village this morning while his daughter had been confined to her room. It was all part of a plan to make Victoria think twice about remaining at the schloss, and while the incidents were childish they were also upsetting.
She threw her parcel on the bed, and as she did so she realised that it was not her parcel at all. The work basket had been rather carefully wrapped by the shop assistant giving her time to study Victoria with minute attention to detail, while this parcel, though of a similar size, was roughly drawn together and the impact of its weight against the mattress had dislodged a corner to reveal the binding of several books. In her haste to escape from the Baron’s ill-humour, she must have inadvertently snatched the wrong parcel, and this was one of his.
With a sigh, she reached across the bed and lifted the parcel again. She had better return this to the Baron at once before he, too, discovered the mistake.
Her hand was actually reaching for the door handle when there was a sharp knock on the outer panels. Victoria drew back, pressing her hand to her throat instead. What a situation! she thought grimly. Well, he should not learn of his daughter’s deceit from her.
‘Who—who is it?’ she called faintly.
‘Reichstein!’ came the Baron’s distinctive tones. ‘I believe you have taken a parcel of mine in error for your own. I have yours here.’
Victoria licked her dry lips. ‘That—that’s right,’ she conceded, awkwardly. ‘But I’m—er—changing right now.’ She quickly unzipped her boots and kicked them off so that they fell heavily on to the floor. ‘Could—could you just leave the parcel outside, Herr Baron, and I’ll bring yours down in a few minutes?’
There was a moment’s silence, and then he said: ‘As you wish, fräulein!’ in a brusque voice.
‘Thank you.’ Victoria stepped away from the door with relief, but as she did so her nylon-clad foot came into contact with the sharp corner of one of the drawers which Sophie had left lying so carelessly on the floor. Victoria uttered a startled cry, lifting her injured foot painfully, holding on to the bedhead to prevent herself from falling. But even as she stood there, stork-like, the door was thrust open and the Baron stood on the threshold, his eyes darkening with incredulous anger as he surveyed the scene. Victoria closed her eyes for a moment. The worst had happened, and she
was wholly unprepared for any argument.
‘God in heaven!’ he muttered, his eyes travelling over the tumbled mass of clothes and drawers and hangers and coming to rest on Victoria’s discomfited figure. His eyes softened slightly. ‘Are you all right?’ he questioned harshly. ‘You hurt yourself!’
Victoria shook her head weakly. ‘I stubbed my foot, that’s all. Against a drawer.’
The Baron entered the room, bending to lift the offending drawer on to the bed out of harm’s way, before approaching Victoria. Going down on his haunches, he said: ‘Let me see!’ and without asking her permission he took her foot into his strong, long-fingered hands. He probed the flesh experimentally, and finding only a graze allowed her to draw her foot away. Rising to his feet, he shook his head rather incomprehensively. ‘It is as well it is not more serious, fräulein,’ he said roughly. ‘I am not a violent man by nature, and yet I am finding it difficult at this moment to suppress that very emotion.’ He raked a hand through his thick hair. ‘This is Sophie’s doing, of course, before you attempt to explain otherwise. I am not entirely blind to my daughter’s failings, but this time she has gone too far!’
Victoria put her foot to the floor and found the pain was quickly evaporating. ‘Please,’ she began, lifting her shoulders helplessly, ‘you should not have seen this—--’
He swung round on her. ‘You would have kept this to yourself, fräulein?’ he exclaimed fiercely.
Victoria coloured. ‘It is between Sophie and myself. Obviously she had a reason for doing it, and that is what I intend to find.’
The Baron uttered an angry expletive in his own language. ‘The child has been allowed too much of her own way,’ he snapped angrily. ‘She is of the opinion that she can do no wrong. That attitude must be changed.’
Victoria sighed. ‘Yes, I agree. But will you change it by invoking your will upon her?’
‘You seek to defend her, fräulein?’ He was incredulous.
Victoria sighed. ‘I suppose I do, in a way. Oh, I don’t pretend to know everything about girls of her age, but there are few children who are naturally spiteful. I realise she hopes she will induce me to leave by causing me so much discomfort that I simply refuse to take any more, but there’s more to it than that.’
The Baron regarded her sombrely. ‘And will she eventually induce you to leave, fräulein, as perhaps she induced those other two unfortunate females I employed?’
Victoria half smiled. ‘I doubt it. I am not of a naturally nervous disposition, and I should hate to think I was forced to leave my job because I couldn’t handle a ten-year-old girl! Besides, my upbringing has been such that I, too, can behave selfishly and spitefully, and Sophie has never yet, I think, encountered anyone who could retaliate in kind.’
The Baron frowned. ‘What do you mean, fräulein?’
Victoria lifted her shoulders. ‘Your daughter depends entirely upon your love—your affection—for her. To her, you are the focal point of her small world, and while she might behave outrageously to me or to anyone else who attempted to impose some restriction upon her, she would never do anything to destroy your faith in her—--’
The Baron threw out a hand impatiently. ‘And this?’
‘As I said before, you weren’t meant to know about this.’
‘But you could have come and told me!’
‘But she knew I wouldn’t.’
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
Victoria sighed. ‘It’s difficult to explain without involving a lot of lengthy explanations. Let us just say that after two governesses she imagines she has developed an immunity against being found out.’ She rubbed the side of her nose thoughtfully. ‘No one—no one worth their salt anyway, would want to come to you with tales about your daughter. To begin with, you are intensely protective towards her, and besides, she could always deny the whole thing.’
‘How could she deny this?’ The Baron ran a hand over his forehead wearily.
Victoria bit her lip. She realised this was all painful to him. For so long he had believed Sophie to be trustworthy—beyond reproach. To have someone who had only known the child two days systematically destroying all his illusions about her was obviously distressing for him. She wished there was some way she could soften the blow, but it was better that the scales should be shed now than later.
She bent and began to pick up the strewn garments, putting the filmy articles of underwear beneath the bedcovers to avoid embarrassment. The Baron was patently striving for control, and at last he said:
‘So what do you suggest, fräulein? That I forget all about this? That I refrain from chastising my daughter in the manner I crave?’
Victoria was conscious that in her stocking-clad feet he seemed to tower over her, putting her at a distinct disadvantage. But she looked up at him quickly and said: ‘Yes. That’s exactly what I want you to do.’
He shook his head. ‘You are a courageous woman, Miss Monroe. You have no idea what Sophie may try next.’
Victoria smiled now. ‘If you will allow me a free hand with your daughter, Herr Baron, I don’t think Sophie will be so eager to thwart me.’
He frowned. ‘You intend to punish her yourself?’
‘Yes. But not in the way you think. I promise you, Sophie will come to no lasting harm in my hands.’
A faint comprehension lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘I revise my opinion of you, fräulein. Courageous was perhaps the wrong word. I substitute clever instead.’
Victoria coloured. ‘No, not clever, Herr Baron. Merely logical.’
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘And this mess?’ He glanced round, ‘Come! I will help you, or would you like me to ask Maria—--’
‘I can manage,’ she said firmly. ‘And please, you won’t reveal any of this to—to anyone?’
The Baron inclined his head. ‘It shall be as you wish. I only hope I can carry it off. Obviously Sophie’s headache this morning was assumed as you suspected—--’
‘I didn’t say—--’
‘Oh, I know, fräulein. You were very discreet. Nevertheless, I am not entirely without sensitivities myself, and your attitude was very clear to me.’
Victoria bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It is good that we understand one another.’ His eyes bored into hers for a moment, and then he abruptly turned away. ‘I must go. Maria saw me come up here. She will begin to suspect our relationship.’
Victoria’s colour deepened again, and her slightly tip-tilted eyes avoided his, seeking some point beyond the Baron’s muscular figure. He must not suspect the effect he had on her and his presence in her room dwarfed its almost generous proportions making her supremely aware of him as a man.
To her relief he stepped out on to the landing, and glanced back at her doubtfully, standing there amid the upheaval of her belongings.
‘fräulein—--’ he began huskily, and then with an enigmatic lift of his shoulders he turned and began to descend the staircase.
Victoria closed her door and leaned back against it unsteadily. Altogether the morning had been too full of incident.
It took her over two hours to restore order to her room. Before tackling the mess, she went down to have lunch with Maria and Gustav. She had no desire to have one of them come looking for her because she was late for the meal and thus expose what Sophie had done. Even so, it was not easy to talk casually with them about her impressions of Reichstein and the inevitable possibility of more snow that day when all she wanted was to finish her meal and escape to her task.
Maria had made a delicious apfel strudel for dessert which she maintained was Sophie’s favourite. ‘The poor child has been confined to her room all morning,’ she confided, with obvious concern. ‘And she does so love my strudel.’
Victoria guarded her tongue and merely smiled and congratulated Maria for producing something so delicious, but she wondered how the Baron might react to such reproach. He was so closely involved, and was not a man to take to intrigue happily
. But when Maria returned from serving her employer and his daughter she seemed contented enough, and Victoria could only assume that the Baron had succeeded in putting all thoughts of what had occurred to the back of his mind.
It was late afternoon by the time she finished tidying her room and she looked about with some satisfaction when she had completed the restoration. Everything was as it should be, even the photograph of Aunt Laurie had taken no harm, and her precious store of perfumes had been untouched. Satisfied that no one could now notice anything amiss, she went down the stairs to the hall and halted uncertainly. At this hour of the afternoon, when the light was beginning to fade, the bright warmth of the kitchen seemed infinitely inviting. But she knew she would have to make the effort and go and see Sophie before her determination wavered.
The hall was deserted, the wolfhounds absent from their usual sprawling posture on the hearth, and the logs in the grate glowed welcomingly. Despite the height and length of this apartment, it had an air of intimacy about it in the fading light and Victoria thought how easy it would be to become attuned to this place.
But she did not linger and went instead through the door into the east wing where the Baron and his daughter had their apartments. An aroma of tobacco hung in the corridor and she guessed the Baron had been smoking one of his cigars when he passed along here quite recently. She hoped he was not with Sophie.
Sophie’s room was not too difficult to find, although it would be easy to mistake one door for another in this light, she thought. However, she tapped lightly on the panels and entered the room, only to find that it was empty. Heaving a sigh, she looked about her. Now where was the child? With her father, perhaps? Or was she with Maria, bent on some new mischief?
But even as Victoria stood there in the gloom a thought occurred to her. Perhaps this was just the opportunity she needed. Why hadn’t she thought of it at once? She knew exactly how to begin with Sophie! With a slight hardening of her features, she closed the door, and set to work.