The Reluctant Governess. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
bedroom door, she went into her room slowly. She couldn’t do that! It simply was not in her nature to tell tales, and besides, very likely that was what Sophie hoped she would do. She could always deny it, and who was to say who the Baron would believe. He might consider she had made the whole thing up in an attempt to put Sophie in the wrong. Stranger things had happened, although somehow she thought the Baron was too shrewd to be taken in like that. Even so, there was no harm done, and how annoying it would be for Sophie if she didn’t mention the episode. Half the fun of creating a situation was its outcome, and she had expected Victoria to be frightened half out of her wits. Victoria frowned. Sophie had shown perception in choosing the wolfhound for the scapegoat. Had she guessed that Victoria had been nervous of them? Suddenly, Victoria recalled the shadow on the gallery the night before when the wolfhounds had frozen her with their growling. Could that have been Sophie? Learning to know the child as she was, she thought it was more than likely.
The dog was seated by the bedroom door now, obviously waiting for her to go downstairs. Victoria smiled. In fact, Sophie had done her a favour. She had rid her of any fear of the animals.
With lightening spirits, Victoria pulled on her long boots over her trousers. Then she put on another sweater before donning her sheepskin coat. She had no fur hat, but a warm scarf would have to do for now.
When she was ready, she came out of the bedroom and began to go down the winding staircase. The wolfhound followed her obsequiously and she smiled to herself. Was she to be provided with a ready-made bodyguard?
The dog followed her to the kitchen and Maria looked at it in surprise. ‘Back, Fritz,’ she said sharply, but Victoria shook her head.
‘Leave him,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s all right if he comes with me, isn’t it?’
Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘Fritz and Helga are the Herr Baron’s dogs,’ she said, reprovingly. ‘It is his permission you need, fräulein!’
‘Ach, the dogs need exercise,’ exclaimed Gustav abruptly. ‘Leave the fräulein alone, Maria. Fritz will come to no harm with her.’
Maria shrugged and turned back to her baking, and deciding there was no point in saying any more, Victoria went across the room and out of the door through which the Baron had entered earlier. Fritz followed her and she closed the door behind them firmly, glad of the dog’s company.
Patting his head, she set off across the yard. They had emerged at the side of the schloss, but a covered way led them through to the inner courtyard where she had seen the stables the previous day. The air was freezing but clear as wine and almost as intoxicating. Picking up a handful of snow, she threw it playfully at Fritz and he barked and fussed about her with all the liberal affection of a puppy. Really, it was remarkable, she thought with some amusement, Fritz seemed to imagine she was his deliverer and his natural loyalties had been temporarily transferred.
The noise of their boisterous game must have penetrated the walls of the stables, for presently a small, fur-clad figure emerged and stood watching them. Victoria straightened from fondling the dog to face her charge, and as she did so she heard Fritz growling low in his throat. She looked down at him in surprise, and saw he was staring malevolently at the child. If anything further was needed to convince Victoria that Sophie was responsible for imprisoning the wolfhound, this was proof indeed. Sophie’s face grew mutinous as they crossed the yard towards her, and as though deciding that the best method of defence was attack, she said sharply:
‘Fritz is only allowed out with my father, fräulein! He will be very angry when he finds out that you have disobeyed his orders!’
Victoria regarded her dispassionately. ‘And what if I tell you I have your father’s permission to bring the dog out here?’ she countered.
Sophie frowned, her eyes guarded. ‘You asked my father’s permission?’ she questioned disbelievingly. ‘I don’t believe you, fräulein.’
Victoria shrugged. ‘Well, why don’t you ask him,’ she suggested lightly. ‘Tell him I found poor Fritz had locked himself in one of the turret rooms, and when I released him he insisted on following me.’
Sophie grew sullen. ‘You think you’re very clever, don’t you, fräulein?’
‘No. But cleverer than you, perhaps, Sophie,’ replied Victoria smoothly. ‘Now, I have’ your father’s instructions regarding your tuition, and I suggest we go indoors and begin to discover exactly how clever you really are.’
Sophie regarded her furiously for a moment, and then without another word she turned and flounced away, completely ignoring Victoria’s words. Victoria found it difficult to remain where she was and not go after the child and force her to return with her. But something warned her that this was not an opportune moment to show her hand, so instead she turned as well and strolled towards the arched gateway that led outside the schloss. With Fritz at her heels she had no fears for her safety, and it was too exhilarating a day to spend it wholly indoors.
She walked through the path which someone had cleared to the banks of the stream and looked down into the water. It was quite shallow though fast-moving, and she wondered if that was the secret of its remaining unfrozen.
Later, walking round the outer walls of the schloss she determinedly put all thoughts of Sophie and her problems out of her mind. Instead, she thought about her godmother and wondered whether Meredith had brought any pressure to bear upon her to reveal Victoria’s whereabouts. Of course, it was just possible that Meredith might have taken affront at her unexpected disappearance and decided to let the matter rest there, but somehow, knowing Meredith as she did, she felt convinced he would do everything in his power to find her. Apart from a postcard from Salzburg she had made no attempt to contact Aunt Laurie since her departure and she hoped her godmother would be able to cope alone. Maybe running away had been a cowardly action, and yet had she not done so she might never have had the strength to send Meredith away. He had, she supposed, an immense amount of conceit, and it simply would not occur to him that she seriously did not intend to become involved with a married man. Possibly because divorces were so easy to come by in his country he did not consider that a great barrier, but Victoria did, and she was glad now that she had been given this chance to start afresh. She had enjoyed being a lady of leisure while it lasted, but work was satisfying to her, and talking to the Baron this morning had aroused within her all that latent knowledge which she had been taught to impart to others. Her godmother had never been able to understand that doing a job that one enjoyed and which gave one satisfaction could be a pleasure. Even now, her reasons for despatching Victoria to Austria had not been a desire to provide an occupation for her, but rather to give her time to get over Meredith before coming back and beginning again.
Victoria stood staring up at the frozen peaks above her, and stamped her feet. She was beginning to feel cold now, and she turned to make her way back to the arched gateway. Fritz had got tired of gambolling about and stayed close by her heels as they crossed the courtyard to the main entrance. It was easier to enter here than to go round to the side door and although the heavy structure was difficult to manipulate eventually it swung inwards on its hinges. Victoria entered, shaking the flying flakes of snow from her clothes and removing her headscarf, and looked up to encounter the forbidding gaze of the Baron. He was standing by the wide fireplace, the flickering flames turning his hair to molten gold. The other wolfhound, Helga, stood motionless beside him and when Fritz saw them he bounded across joyfully, rubbing himself against his master’s legs.
Victoria loosened her coat and said lightly: ‘We’ve been for a walk, Fritz and I. It’s very invigorating, out in the air!’
The Baron moved and now Victoria could see that Sophie was perched on the settle by the fire, warming her toes at the blaze. She had shed her outdoor things, and looked cat-like in the glowing light from the burning logs. She gave Victoria an insolent stare, and then looked up adoringly at her father.
‘Tell me, fräulein,’ said the Baron in harsh tones, ‘did you think to make a fool of me last evening?’
Victoria frowned, his unexpected remark puzzling her. ‘I’m afraid