The Reluctant Governess. Anne Mather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ betrayal was still painful, but now that her pride was in no danger of being destroyed here, miles away from anyone who had known about their association, she could face the future less emotionally. In that, at least, her godmother had been right. She had said that Victoria had been hurt more by the knowledge that she would look a fool than by real heartbreak.

      Now the Baron came to lean against the mantel, looking down at her intently. ‘About Sophie,’ he began. ‘I should warn you, she is not an easy child to get along with.’ He spread a hand expressively. ‘As no doubt you are aware after that small fracas earlier.’

      ‘Yes.’ Victoria continued to study her fingernails, unable to confront that piercing gaze.

      ‘No doubt you consider my attitude sadly lacking in dicipline, fräulein?’

      Victoria sighed. How was she supposed to answer that? ‘I—I think Sophie is a lonely child,’ she ventured, uncomfortably.

      ‘How very diplomatic,’ he commented dryly. ‘No, my dear Miss Monroe, it is not just loneliness! When Sophie was ill she was given every attention. Her slightest wish was my command. She is very dear to me. Naturally I spoilt her, and now this is the result.’

      Victoria bit her lip. ‘How old was Sophie when she became ill, Herr Baron?’

      ‘Eight years of age—a little over eighteen months ago. She was in hospital for many months, and her recovery from the paralysis was nothing short of a miracle.’ He flicked ash into the flames. ‘You can have no conception of the relief her recovery gave to me. For a time it seemed impossible that she would ever be a normal child again.’

      Victoria hesitated, but the question had to be asked: ‘And—and your wife, the Baroness—--’

      He straightened. ‘We will not discuss Sophie’s mother, Miss Monroe,’ he said harshly. ‘And now—if we can decide upon a syllabus—--’

      Victoria coloured and then allowed him to direct their conversation into educational channels, putting forward her opinions only when asked for and receiving his instructions in return. It was his suggestion that they should conduct the lessons here, in his study, where there was a desk and ample reference facilities in the book-lined shelves. He already had textbooks in both German and English from which Victoria was able to gauge Sophie’s ability and the other equipment necessary for providing writing materials and paper was present in the ample drawers of the desk. When he had completed his instructions about Sophie, Victoria rose to her feet, ready to take her leave, but he stayed her with a gesture and she sank back into her chair again.

      ‘It is necessary now that I outline what free time you have available and how you may spend it,’ he said consideringly. ‘Also, if you would prefer to eat in your room, I can arrange for a tray to be provided.’

      ‘Oh no. That is—--’ Victoria bit her lip. ‘I don’t mind eating in the kitchen. I—I prefer—--’ She halted. She had been about to say she preferred the company to the isolation, but to do so would be to play right into his hands. However, before she could think of an adequate substitute, he said:

      ‘I understand, fräulein. Do not imagine I am without feelings. I, too, need the company of—others, sometimes.’

      Victoria’s eyes dropped before his, and a disturbing quiver rippled along her spine. Why did this man create this awareness in her? Almost all the men she had known were wealthy, sleek, sophisticated; they drove fast cars, holidayed in the Caribbean or the South Pacific, wore the latest clothes and knew all the best restaurants. The Baron von Reichstein should have been like them, but he was not, and his only concession to the present trends were the long sideburns which grew down to his jawline. His clothes were good, but practical, and there had been reinforcing leather patches on the elbows of his coat. His transport was a mud-splashed station wagon, and he was used to eating wholesome soup out of earthenware dishes at a scrubbed kitchen table. Why then did she notice every minute detail about him from the hard strength of his broad body to the sensual curve of his full lower lip?

      ‘Now to the matter of free time.’ The Baron was speaking again, and Victoria gathered her composure. ‘Naturally, you will be free every day after lessons are over, which should be a couple of hours after lunch. However, I should be grateful if for a further consideration you would consider yourself Sophie’s companion for some part of the day.’

      Victoria coloured. ‘There is no need to make that concession, Herr Baron,’ she said tautly. ‘I’m quite willing to treat Sophie as a friend so long as she is willing. And as to free time, if and when I need any I could always tell you.’

      The Baron frowned. ‘Nevertheless, I feel it is essential that you should not feel continually on duty. Your suggestion is appreciated, but you may find assuming a kind of family situation rather tiring.’

      Victoria got to her feet. She was quite a tall girl, but the Baron was over six feet in height and dwarfed her. ‘Well, we shall see,’ she said, rather awkwardly, and leaving him she walked towards the door. However, as she was about to turn the handle, he said:

      ‘Your hair—is it very long?’

      The question was so unexpected that Victoria leant against the door in astonishment, putting up a tentative hand to the french roll she invariably wore. ‘Why—er—yes,’ she murmured, flushing.

      The Baron turned his back to her, staring into the flames. ‘There are no beauty salons around here, fräulein. You may find it simpler to wear your hair short.’

      Victoria frowned. ‘Is that a request—or a command?’ Her voice was slightly uneven.

      ‘Neither,’ returned the Baron bleakly. ‘It was an observation, that is all, fräulein.’

      Victoria straightened. ‘I am perfectly capable of washing my hair myself, Herr Baron,’ she said sharply. ‘Is that all?’

      ‘That is all, ja!’ His tones were harsh, and with a faint shake of her head, she went out of the door.

      What a strange man he was. What possible importance did her hair have for him?

      With a puzzled lift of her shoulders, she began to walk along the passage towards the great hall. As she entered that huge apartment she saw the wolfhound stare round at her, and for a moment her heart quickened. Then, with determined nonchalance, she crossed the hall, and as she closed the door behind her she breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

      She walked to the kitchen, intending to find Sophie at once and speak to her about their arrangements, but only Gustav and Maria were there, Gustav drinking a mug of coffee and smoking his pipe. He was a giant of a man, with thick grey hair, and gnarled brown features. He nodded pleasantly at Victoria, and she returned his smile. Then she said to Maria:

      ‘Where is Sophie? I thought she might be here.’

      Maria sighed. ‘I think she has gone out, fräulein. After you left with her father she put on her long boots and her furs and you may find her in the stables, with Otto und Else.’

      ‘Otto and Else? Who are they?’ asked Victoria in surprise.

      Maria smiled. ‘Horses, fräulein,’ she said gently. ‘There are only two now.’

      ‘Oh!’ Victoria nodded. ‘I see.’ She looked down at her shoeclad feet. ‘Perhaps I should get my boots and go and find her.’

СКАЧАТЬ