King of the Castle (17 page)

“Stop it,” I commanded.

“It’s a foolish way to behave.”

“It’s the way to cut up a dress. Whish! You should have heard the scissors. It was lovely.” She went on laughing and Nounou put a hand to her shoulder only to have it shaken off.

I left them; it was useless to try to reason with her while she was in that mood.

The dinner to which I had looked forward was an uncomfortable meal. I was conscious all the time of Genevieve, who had appeared, sullen and silent. She was watching me furtively all through the meal, waiting, I knew, for me to betray her to her father.

I talked a little, mostly about the pictures and the chateau, but I felt I was being rather dull and disappointing to the Comte, who had wanted perhaps to provoke spirited answers to his teasing manner.

I was glad to escape to my room, which I did immediately the meal was over. I was turning over in my mind what I should do. I should have to reason with Genevieve;

I should have to explain to her that she could not find lasting pleasure in behaving as she did.

It was while I was meditating about this that Mademoiselle Dubois came to my room.

“I must talk to you,” she said.

“What a commotion!”

“You’ve heard about my dress?”

“The whole household knows of it. Josette went to the sommelier and he went to the Comte. Mademoiselle Genevieve has played too many tricks.”

“And so … he knows.”

She regarded me slyly.

“Yes … he knows.”

“And Genevieve?”

“She’s in her room cowering behind the skirts of Nounou. She’ll be punished and she deserves it.”

“I can’t think why she takes a delight in doing such things.”

“Mischief! Malice! She’s jealous of your being asked to dine with the family and the Comte taking such an interest.”

“Naturally he would be interested in his pictures.”

She tittered.

“I’ve always been careful. Of course when I came here I had no idea what sort of place it was. A Comte … a chateau … it sounds wonderful. But when I heard those terrible stories, I was quite terrified. I was ready to pack my bags and go. But I decided to give it a chance, though I saw how dangerous it was. A man like the Comte, for instance …”

“I should not think you would be in any danger from him.”

“A man whose wife died like that! You are rather innocent, Mademoiselle Lawson. As a matter of fact I had to leave my last post because of the unwelcome attentions of the master of the house.”

She had grown quite pink with, I told myself cynically, the exertion of imagining herself desirable. I am sure all i33

the near-seductions she talked of had only taken place in her imagination.

“How awkward for you,” I said.

“When I came here I knew I had to take special care in view of the Comte’s reputation. There will always be scandal surrounding him.”

“There will always be scandal when there are those to make it,” I put in.

I disliked her for so many things; for her enjoyment of others’ discomfort, for her stupid simpering suggestions that she was a femme fatale; and irrationally, for her long nose, which made her look like a shrew-mouse. Poor woman, as if she could help her appearance! But the meanness of her soul was in her face that night and I disliked her. I told myself I hated those who stood in judgment on others.

I was glad when she had gone. My thoughts were occupied by Genevieve.

Our relationship had suffered a big setback and I was disappointed.

The loss of my dress troubled me little compared with the absence of the confidence I had felt I was beginning to inspire. And oddly enough, in spite of what she had done, I felt a new tenderness towards her. Poor child! She was in need of care; and she was groping blindly, trying to call attention to herself, I was sure. I wanted to understand her; I wanted to help her. It occurred to me that she received very little help and understanding in this house despised and rejected by her father, spoiled by her nurse. Something should be done, I was sure. It was not often that I acted on impulse but I did then.

I went to the library and knocked at the door. There was no answer so I went in and pulled the bell-rope. When one of the menservants appeared, I asked if he would take a message to the Comte as I wished to speak to him.

Only when I saw the surprise in the man’s face was I aware of the

greatness of my temerity, but I still felt that the need to act was so urgent that I didn’t care. On reflection I expected him to return and say that the Comte was too busy to see me and perhaps a meeting could be arranged the next day, but to my surprise when the door opened it was to admit the Comte.

“Mademoiselle Lawson, you sent for me?”

I flushed at the irony.

“I wished to speak to you, Monsieur Ie Comte.”

He frowned.

“This disgraceful affair of the dress. I must apologize for my daughter’s behaviour.”

“I had not come for an apology.”

“You are very forgiving.”

“Oh, I was angry when I saw the dress.”

“Naturally. You will be recompensed and Genevieve shall make you an apology.”

“That is not what I want.”

The puzzled expression on his face might have been feigned. He gave the impression, as he so often did, of knowing exactly what was going on in my mind.

“Then perhaps you will tell me why you … summoned me here?”

“I did not summon you. I asked if you would see me here.”

“Well, I am here. You were very quiet during dinner. It was no doubt due to this foolish affair, and you were being discreet, displaying national sang-fro id and hiding the indignation you felt towards my daughter. But now the secret is out and you no longer have any need to fear you are telling tales. And so … you have something to say to me.”

“I wanted to talk about Genevieve. Perhaps it is presumptuous of me . ” I paused for reassurance that this was not so, but it did not come.

“Please go on,” was all he said.

“I am concerned about her.”

He signed for me to be seated and sat opposite me. As i35

he opened his eyes wider and sat back in his chair folding his hands with the carved jade signet ring on his little finger, I could believe all the rumours I had heard of him. The aquiline nose, the proud set of the head on the shoulders, the enigmatic mouth, and the eyes whose expression was unfathomable, belonged to a man who was born to rule; a man who believed in his divine right to have his own way and found it natural to remove anything or anyone who stood in his path.

“Yes, Monsieur Ie Comte,” I went on, “I am concerned for your daughter. Why do you think she did this?”

“She will no doubt explain.”

“How can she? She doesn’t even know herself. She has suffered a terrible ordeal.”

Was it my imagination or did he seem to grow a little more alert?

“What ordeal was this?” he asked.

“I mean … the death of her mother.”

His gaze met mine, steady, implacable, arrogant.

“That was several years ago.”

“But she found her mother dead.”

“I see that you have been well informed of the family’s history.”

I stood up suddenly. I took a step towards him. He immediately rose although I was tall he was considerably taller than I and looked down at me. I tried to read the expression in those deeply set eyes.

“She is lonely,” I said.

“Don’t you see? Please don’t be harsh with her. If you would only be kind to her… if only …”

He was no longer looking at me; a faintly bored expression had come into his face.

“Why, Mademoiselle Lawson,” he said, “I thought you had come here to restore our pictures, not ourselves.”

I felt defeated.

I said: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I should have known it was useless.”

He led the way to the door; he opened it and bowed his head slightly as I went through.

I went back to my room wondering what I had done.

The next morning I went to the gallery to work as usual, expecting a summons from the Comte because I was certain that he would not allow such interference to pass. I had wakened often during the night to recall that scene, exaggerating it to such an extent that it was as though the devil himself had sat opposite me in that chair watching me through heavy-lidded eyes.

Lunch was brought up as usual. While I was eating it, Nounou came up.

She looked very old and tired and I guessed she had scarcely slept all night.

“Monsieur Ie Comte has been in the schoolroom all the morning,” she burst out.

“I can’t think what it means. He has been looking at all the exercise books and asking questions. Poor Genevieve is almost hysterical with fright.” She looked at me fearfully and added: “It’s so unlike him. But he has asked this, that and the other and he says he thinks she is quite ignorant. Poor Mademoiselle Dubois is almost in a state of collapse.”

“No doubt he feels it is time he took some notice of his daughter.”

“I don’t know what it means, miss. I wish I did.”

I went for a walk, taking a road which neither passed the Bastides’ house nor led into the town. I did not want to meet anyone; I merely wanted to be alone to think about Genevieve and her father.

When I returned to the chateau it was to find Nounou in my room waiting for me.

“Mademoiselle Dubois has gone,” she announced.

“What?” I cried.

i37

“Monsieur Ie Comte just gave her her salary in lieu of notice.”

I was shaken.

“Oh … poor woman! Where will she go? It seems so … ruthless.”

“The Comte makes up his mind quickly,” said Nounou, ‘and then he acts.

”

“I suppose there will be a new governess, now.”

“I do not know what will happen, miss.”

“And Genevieve, how is she?”

“She never had any respect for Mademoiselle Dubois … and to tell the truth nor did I. She is afraid, though.”

After Nounou had gone I sat in my room wondering what would happen next. And what of myself? He could not call me inefficient. The work on the pictures was progressing very satisfactorily; but people were dismissed for other failings. Insolence, for one thing. And I had dared summon him to his own library, to criticize his treatment of his daughter. Now that I came to consider it calmly I had to admit that it would be understandable if I received my orders to go. As for the pictures, he could find someone to continue with the work. I was by no means indispensable.

Then, of course, there was the affair of the dress. I had been the loser, but every time he saw me he would remember what his daughter had done and remember, more over, that I had had too close a glimpse into his family’s secrets.

Genevieve came to my room and uttered a sullen apology which I knew she did not mean. I was too depressed If to say much to her.

When I was hanging up my things for the night I looked for the dress, which I had thrown into the wardrobe. It was no longer there. I was surprised and wondered whether Genevieve had removed it, but I decided to say nothing about its disappearance.

I was working in the gallery when the summons came.

“Monsieur Ie Comte would like to see you in the library, Mademoiselle Lawson.”

“Very well,” I said.

“I will be there in a few moments.” I picked up the sable brush I had been using and studied it thoughtfully. It is my turn now, I thought.

The door shut and I gave myself a few seconds in which to compose myself. Whatever happened I should pretend indifference. At least he would not be able to say I was incompetent.

I braced myself to go to the library. I thrust my hands into the pockets of the brown linen coat I was wearing, for fear they might tremble and betray my agitation. I wished my heart would not beat so fast; it might be obvious. I was glad my thick matt skin did not flush easily;

but I guessed my eyes would be brighter than usual.

Without any outward show of haste I went to the library. As I approached the door I touched my hair and was reminded that it was probably untidy as it often became when I was working. All to the good. I did not want him to think I had prepared myself for the interview.

I knocked at the door.

“Please come in.” His voice was soft, inviting, but I did not trust his gentleness.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Lawson.”

He was smiling at me, intently, mischievously. What sort of mood was this?

“Please sit down.”

He took me to a chair which faced the window, so that the light was full on my face, and seated himself in shadow. I felt it was an unfair advantage.

“When we last met you were kind enough to express an interest in my daughter,” he said.

“I am very interested in her.”

“So good of you, particularly as you came here to restore

the pictures. One would imagine you had little time to spare for that which did not concern your work. “

Now it was coming. I was not progressing fast enough. I was not giving satisfaction. This afternoon I would be speeding on my way from the chateau just as yesterday poor Mademoiselle Dubois had gone.

A horrible depression came over me. I could not bear to go. I should be more wretched than I had ever been in my life. I should never forget the chateau. I should be tormented by memories all my life. I wanted so much to know the truth about the chateau . about the Comte himself whether he was such a monster as most people seemed to think him. Had he always been as he was now? If not, what had made him so?

Did he know what I was thinking? He had paused and was watching me intently.

“I don’t know what you will think of my proposition, Mademoiselle Lawson, but one thing I do know is that you will be absolutely frank.”

“I shall try to be.”

“My dear Mademoiselle Lawson, you do not have to try. You are so naturally. It is an admirable characteristic and may I say one which I greatly admire.”

“You are very kind. Please tell me of this… proposition.”

“I feel my daughter’s education has been neglected. Governesses are a problem. How many of them take the posts because they have a vocation?