by Anne Mather
It was quite dark by the time she made her way back to her own room and she realised she would have to hurry to wash and change before dinner. But she did comb out her hair and was in the process of brushing it before the dressing table mirror when the door burst open and Sophie stood glaring at her from the threshold. Her two plaits were partially unfastened, wisps of hair sticking out comically in all directions, her dress and tights were askew, while her face was bright red and contorted with fury.
‘Katze! Schwein! Sie sind gehassig! Sie—--’
Victoria’s limited knowledge of the language was sufficient to comprehend that Sophie was saying some very insolent things to her, but she controlled her features, and managed a faint raising of her eyebrows.
‘What’s the matter, Sophie?’ she queried calmly. ‘Is something wrong?’
Sophie bit hard on her lips and took several deep breaths, realising that Victoria was not prepared to listen to her in her own language. Clenching her fists, she said: ‘I hate you! You’re horrible! My father will dismiss you for this!’ There was an angry sob in her voice.
Victoria put down her brush and examined her face minutely in the mirror, pretending to be studying her skin. ‘Whatever is the matter, Sophie?’ she said, almost indifferently. ‘You are upset!’ She turned with a slight smile to face the child. ‘Heavens, I’m the one who should be upset. Do you know what happened today?’ She raised her dark eyebrows, and when Sophie continued to stare mutinously at her, she went on: ‘Someone turned over this room while I was out with your father this morning. Isn’t that dreadful? I mean—who would want to do such a thing?’
Sophie did not reply, but her teeth were clenched tightly together and Victoria knew she was getting through to her.
‘But as you can see,’ she added, ‘I’ve managed to clear up the mess. It took me ages. All afternoon, in fact.’ She linked her fingers together. ‘Now, what’s your trouble?’
Sophie gave her a malevolent look. ‘You’ll find out!’ she stated violently, and without another word she turned and stormed away.
Victoria closed the door after her and stood for a few moments staring into space considering Sophie’s reactions. Then with a characteristic shrug, she resumed her hair-brushing. Later, she went down to dinner thoughtfully, wondering what the child’s next move might be. It was certain that with Sophie one could never be sure.
Maria served the meal as usual, and there was nothing in either her or Gustav’s attitude to indicate that Sophie had said anything to them about what had happened. But as the meal was finishing, the door from the hall opened and the Baron himself entered the kitchen, accompanied by Sophie. His eyes sought Victoria’s, and when he encountered her steady gaze, he said: ‘May we have a few words with you, fräulein?’
Victoria inclined her head, and pushing back her chair rose to her feet. She looked far calmer than she felt, for even now she was doubtful of the Baron’s support. In dark trousers and a wine-coloured, velvet smoking jacket, a dark polo-necked shirt complementing his silver-gilt hair, he looked different somehow, and she began to wonder whether she had been optimistic in imagining that someone in his position could ever approve of the way she thought his daughter should be handled. Sophie herself looked quite attractive in a dark blue velvet dress with long bishop sleeves and a roll collar. Her plaits had been combed out and re-braided, and her face had a clean, scrubbed look.
Victoria preceded them both into the passage and from there into the hall. The wolfhounds were back in their usual position, and Fritz took the trouble to come across and lick her hand. The Baron watched this display of affection with narrowed eyes, and Victoria was tempted to tell him exactly why the animal treated her as it did. But instead, she folded her hands behind her back, and feeling rather apprehensive, said: ‘Is something wrong, Herr Baron?’ in what she hoped was a steady voice.
The Baron took up a position before the fire, feet apart, hands in the pockets of his smoking jacket, and then he said:
‘Sophie has complained to me that her bedroom has been deliberately overturned!’
Victoria felt her cheeks colouring and was angry. Did he have to say it like that? She was right to feel apprehensive, she thought with sinking spirits. ‘Oh yes,’ she replied now. ‘How unfortunate!’
Sophie stood in a central position, glancing from one to the other of them with malicious enjoyment. Even Victoria’s sarcasm was lost on her.
‘Is that all you have to say, Miss Monroe?’ The Baron’s eyes were enigmatic.
Victoria’s nails bit into the palms of her hands. ‘What would you have me say, Herr Baron?’ she countered grimly.
‘Sophie tells me that you are responsible,’ he replied smoothly. ‘She maintains that no one else had either the inclination or the opportunity.’
Victoria looked at Sophie. She was positively revelling in this confrontation, and Victoria felt a sense of resentment that the Baron should choose this method of dealing with the matter. She had no idea what his intentions might be, and it was infuriating to realise that he could confuse her in this way.
‘Well, Miss Monroe?’ It was the Baron again. ‘You have been accused of a spiteful action. Have you nothing to say for yourself—in your own defence?’
Victoria compressed her lips. ‘I’m afraid not,’ she replied sharply.
Sophie did a little skip. ‘I told you, Papa! I told you! She did it!’
The Baron drew out his case of cigars and putting one between his teeth he lit it with lazy deliberation. ‘I wonder why,’ he murmured slowly, inhaling deeply.
Sophie, who had been staring scornfully at Victoria, jerked her head round to gaze at her father curiously. The Baron regarded his daughter with slightly raised brows, and Victoria sensed the sudden charging of the atmosphere.
Sophie transferred her gaze to Victoria and there was a puzzled expression in her eyes, Victoria could almost feel sympathy for the girl’s incomprehension. Then Sophie looked again at her father. The Baron removed his cigar from his mouth and studied its glowing tip with concentration. ‘It would seem,’ he said, ‘that Miss Monroe is unrepentant, Sophie, so perhaps she had a reason for remaining silent. Do you suppose we should ask her what that reason is?’
‘I don’t understand, Papa.’ Sophie shook her head, her brow furrowed.
‘Do you not?’ The Baron frowned. ‘Then that is indeed a pity.’
‘What do you mean, Papa? You know the fräulein turned my room upside-down! What more is there to say? She hates me!’ Sophie glanced at Victoria spitefully. ‘She doesn’t want to teach me! She’s like all the others, she only wants to hurt and humiliate me—--’
‘Genuge!’ The Baron’s voice was bleak. ‘Do you take me for a fool, Sophie? fräulein Monroe is here to teach you, and teach you she will, whether you like it or not; whether you pretend any more illnesses; whether you attempt to evade any more lessons! If necessary, fräulein Monroe will report to me any further efforts on your part to create disruption of our lives—--’
‘Papa—--’ broke out Sophie, only to be silenced by the coldness of his expression.
‘Go to your room, Sophie!’ he commanded grimly. ‘Put your things in order and then sit down and consider what you have just heard and what construction you may place upon it.’
Sophie’s face crumpled. ‘But you’ve seen my room, Papa,’ she exclaimed. ‘I didn’t do it. You don’t mean this, Papa—--’
‘But I do,’ retorted the Baron, striding across the room and swinging open the door to the east wing. ‘At once, please, Sophie,’ he said, indicating that she should leave them.
‘But, Papa—--’ Sophie made one final attempt to gain his confidence, but the Baron’s expression froze her pleas for indulgence. Instead, she ran quickly out of the hall, her shoulders hunched, a pitiful little figure, her thin shoulders shaking.
When the door was closed behind her, Victoria turned away feeling positively vindictive. Sophie was only a child, after all.
The Baron came ba
ck across the room and resumed his position by the fire, regarding Victoria’s stiff back with narrowed eyes. ‘Well, fräulein,’ he challenged her. ‘That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh yes—no—that is—I don’t know.’ Victoria swung round to confront him noticing the brilliant blue eyes were harsh and accusing. ‘But did you have to do it that way?’
‘What other way was there, fräulein?’ His voice was chilled.
Victoria compressed her lips. ‘You made us both feel like prisoners at the bar,’ she responded defensively. ‘I don’t want Sophie to imagine we are aligned against her. I just want her to realise that you will not always take her part against me.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, it’s difficult to explain, I know, but—well, you humiliated her.’
‘As she would have humiliated you, fräulein,’ he reminded her.
Victoria bent her head. ‘I suppose you’re right. Do you deplore my methods?’
He shrugged his broad shoulders and turned to stare into the fire. ‘Who am I to deplore your methods, fräulein? Mine have not proved to be particularly successful.’
Victoria bit her lip. ‘But Sophie depends upon you, entirely,’ she ventured quietly.
The Baron raised his head and stared at her almost arrogantly. ‘I know that. I am not without awareness of my responsibilities.’
Victoria coloured. ‘I didn’t say you were, Herr Baron,’ she replied stiffly.
His features relaxed slightly. ‘Forgive me, fräulein. I am tired, and not particularly good company.’
Victoria managed a slight smile, and began to walk across the room to the door. Obviously he wished to be alone, and her presence was an unnecessary annoyance. But as she was about to reach for the handle, he said:
‘These have been tempestuous early days for you, fräulein. I trust you will not be discouraged.’
Victoria turned to face him, shaking her head. ‘Sophie presents a challenge,’ she said carefully. ‘It may be that she will come to realise soon that I am not her enemy.’ She ran her tongue over her dry lips. He looked so attractive standing there in the firelight, and she wondered if he was as unaware of his disturbing personality as he appeared to be. Surely sometimes he desired the company of a woman—any woman. Her cheeks burned, and to hide her confusion she hastened into careless speech. ‘I’m sure that Sophie was not always so antagonistic towards her own sex. Perhaps the fact of her mother’s absence—--’ She halted abruptly, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks.
The Baron’s expression had hardened again. ‘I do not think my personal affairs are any concern of yours, fräulein. I appreciate what you are trying to do for Sophie, but there are some things which do not come within the realm of your role here.’
Victoria sought escape, her hand on the handle of the door. ‘Of course,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘I’m sorry, Herr Baron—--’
He threw the butt of his cigar into the fire. ‘And you will bring any further problems you have to me, is that understood, fräulein?’
Victoria nodded. ‘Very well, Herr Baron.’ She hesitated. ‘May I go?’
He gave her a brilliant look, his eyes disturbed and disturbing. ‘Of course,’ he replied impatiently, and with relief she drew open the door and passed through the arched aperture.
CHAPTER SIX
THE following morning after breakfast Victoria made her way to the Baron’s study where the lessons were to be conducted. Sophie had not, as yet, made an appearance, and Victoria wondered whether this was to be another fruitless day. She dreaded having to approach her employer again in defeat.
But to her surprise and delight she found Sophie already seated at the desk in her father’s study, idly flicking over some papers that were strewn there. She looked up as Victoria entered, but only a faint flicker of her eyes showed that she acknowledged her governess’s arrival. Undaunted, Victoria closed the door and said briskly:
‘Good morning, Sophie. Are you ready to begin?’
Sophie slid off the chair and stood beside it. ‘Papa will be out for the whole day,’ she said, in a small, taut little voice. ‘He told me to tell you that we might work all day if you wish.’
Victoria raised her eyebrows. ‘I see. But that doesn’t really answer my question, does it? I asked if you were ready to begin.’
Sophie pouted her lips. ‘I know all I need to know,’ she replied rudely. ‘I can read and write in both English and German. What more is there to learn?’
Victoria gathered together the papers on the Baron’s desk and making a neat pile placed them in one of the drawers. When the desk was clear, she began to take out the textbooks and writing materials from another drawer. ‘And what about maths; history; geography; biology?’ she asked quietly. ‘Are you proficient in those subjects, too?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘What use are they to me? We live here—at Reichstein. I don’t ever intend to leave! I’m not interested in history or geography. And I can do sums. You ask Papa!’
Victoria sighed and straightened regarding the child with curious eyes. ‘Look, Sophie,’ she said carefully, ‘let’s get something put right. For some reason, you don’t want me here. I don’t believe it’s because of the lessons. I don’t believe an intelligent girl like yourself could honestly deny any interest in learning. You read, don’t you? You have dozens of books in your room—--’
‘All of which you threw about the floor yesterday,’ Sophie accused her angrily.
‘That’s right!’ Victoria shrugged. ‘But not before you had done exactly the same thing in my room.’
Sophie clenched her fists. ‘That’s different! Grown-ups don’t do things like that.’
‘Why not?’
Sophie lifted her shoulders quickly and let them fall. ‘It’s—well—childish!’
‘Exactly.’ Victoria leant on the desk, looking at her intently. ‘It’s not only childish, it’s malicious—spiteful. Stupid, even!’
Sophie unclenched her fists. ‘Why did you tell Papa?’
Victoria straightened. ‘I didn’t. He came to my room with a parcel I’d left in the car. He saw it for himself.’
Sophie tugged at one of her plaits. ‘But he didn’t beat me.’
Victoria was horrified. ‘Does he ever?’
Sophie made an involuntary gesture. ‘No.’ She looked up. ‘But he might have.’
‘Rubbish! I don’t believe your father is a cruel man.’
Sophie looked at her through her lashes. ‘But you don’t know him very well, do you, fräulein?’
Victoria sighed. This was getting them nowhere. ‘I suggest we leave the subject of your father and begin finding out how much you really do know,’ she said briefly. ‘Now, we’ll have a mental arithmetic test. I’ll give you ten sums which you can do in your head, and you write down your answers and we’ll check them all at the end …’
To Victoria’s surprise, the morning passed reasonably quickly and reasonably successfully. After an initial attempt to pretend ignorance, Sophie was persuaded to pit her wits against Victoria’s and after a while a natural interest asserted itself, and the challenges Victoria presented could not be refused. When Maria brought hot chocolate for them both at eleven, she found them hard at work, and Victoria thought she glimpsed a faint disappointment in the old woman’s eyes, as though she had wanted the young governess to fail as the others had done. Probably her affection for Sophie was such that she objected to anyone attempting to alienate even a part of it.
They both had lunch in the kitchen with Maria and Gustav and although Sophie looked longingly at Gustav as he donned his long boots and overcoat after the meal preparatory to going out about his duties she made no demur when Victoria suggested that they get back to work.
As Victoria had thought, the child was immensely perceptive, and capable of picking things up very quickly. It was early days yet to make any judgements, but she thought that Sophie might well recoup any retardation her illness had produced in a very short period. Her questions were intelligent, and although fr
om time to time Victoria sensed her eyes upon her rather speculatively, in the main their relationship was the businesslike one of teacher and pupil.
In the late afternoon, when Victoria was considering packing up for the day, they heard the sound of the station wagon entering the courtyard, the chains on its wheels clanking in the clear air. Sophie immediately stopped what she was doing and looked up eagerly, her eyes eloquent of her feelings, and with understanding, Victoria said:
‘You may finish now, Sophie. Do you want to go and greet your father?’
Sophie’s eyes brightened excitedly, and then her face grew sullen. ‘He won’t want to see me,’ she said miserably. ‘I am in disgrace!’
Victoria sighed. ‘Oh, nonsense, Sophie! You aren’t in disgrace! Not now. You’ve done as your father said and worked hard all day. Don’t you want to tell him what we’ve been doing?’
Sophie grimaced. ‘No!’
Victoria sighed again. ‘Honestly, you really are a baby, aren’t you?’
Sophie’s brows drew together furiously. ‘Of course I’m not a baby. I’m almost ten—almost an adolescent!’
‘Heavens! Where did you get that word from?’ exclaimed Victoria with a smile. ‘Then stop acting like a baby! Your father isn’t a man to bear grudges!’
Sophie scowled at her. ‘So much you know, fräulein!’ she retorted insolently. ‘Don’t try to tell me about Papa! I know him better than you do—better than anyone.’
‘I doubt that,’ returned Victoria reasonably. ‘You’re not old enough for one thing, and for another, your mother is far more likely to fit that category!’
‘My mother!’ Sophie exclaimed scornfully. ‘You don’t know a thing about her!’
Victoria grew impatient. ‘If she’s anything like you, I shouldn’t want to!’ she retorted, rather childishly.
Sophie threw down her pencil and made for the door, but before opening it she turned with her hand on the handle and regarded Victoria rather slyly. ‘Anyway, fräulein,’ she said, in a low, mysterious voice, ‘you really ought to take care how you treat me, or I might have you locked up in the north tower as well!’