Виктория Холт - King of the Castle

The lofty room was full of shadows even though it was early in the day, for, picturesque as the window embrasure was, it excluded the light. The thickness of the walls astonished me, although I had been prepared for it; the huge tapestry which covered almost the entire surface of one was in muted shades of peacock blue, in fact, peacocks figured in it peacocks in a garden of fountains, colonnades, reclining women and gallants, clearly sixteenth-century. The bed was canopied and behind it was a curtain, and when I drew this aside I recognized what was beyond as a ruelle an alcove found in French chateaux. This one was large enough to be like a small room and contained a cupboard, a hip-bath, and a dressing-table on which stood a mirror. I caught a glimpse of myself and laughed suddenly.

Yes, I did look capable. Almost formidable. I was travel-stained, my hat was pushed too far back on my head so that it was even less becoming than usual; my hair long, thick and straight, my only good point was completely hidden.

The maid had brought the hot water and asked if I would care for cold chicken and a carafe of the vin du pays. I replied that it would suit me admirably; and I was glad when she went, for her obvious curiosity and excitement at my presence was a reminder of what a reckless thing I had done.

I took off my cloak and the unbecoming hat. Then I took out the pins and let my hair fall about my shoulders. How different I looked now not only younger, but vulnerable. Now I could be that frightened girl behind the confident woman I pretended to be. Appearances were important, I must remember. I was proud of my hair. It was dark brown but the touches of chestnut in it were so marked that they shone almost red in sunlight.

I washed from head to foot in the hip-bath and felt refreshed. Then I put on clean linen and a grey merino skirt with a light cashmere blouse of a matching colour. The blouse buttoned high at the neck and I assured myself that in it I could be mistaken for a woman of thirty when I put up my hair, of course. I disliked the grey for I took a great pleasure in colours. I knew instinctively that a certain shade of blue, green or red or lavender would have given character to the grey skirt; but much as I loved combining colours to produce beauty I had never wanted to experiment with my clothes. The light coats I wore for my work were in dull brown, as plain and severe as those my father had worn in fact I wore his, which were a little too broad but fitted otherwise.

There was a knock on the door as I was buttoning my blouse. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the dressing-table. My cheeks had flushed a little; and with my hair which fell to my waist and spread itself about my shoulders like a cloak, I certainly looked different from the undaunted woman who had been shown into the room.

I called: “Who is there?”

“Mademoiselle, your tray.” The maid had come into the room. I held back my hair with one hand and drew aside the curtain very slightly with the other.

“Please leave it there.”

She put it down and went out. I realized then how hungry I was, so I came out to inspect the tray. A leg of chicken, a twist of crusty bread still warm from the oven, butter, cheese and a carafe of wine. I sat down there and then and ate. It was delicious. The wine of the country, made from the grapes grown within sight of the castle! The food and the wine made me sleepy. Perhaps the latter was very potent; in any case I was tired. I had travelled through the previous day and night; I had slept little the night before that and I had scarcely eaten either.

I felt a dreamy contentment creeping over me. I was here in the chateau for a while at any rate. I was going to see the treasures of the place. I remembered other occasions when I had stayed with Father in great houses. I recalled the excitement of coming upon some rare work of art, that glow of understanding and appreciation which was like sharing in the joy of the Creator. Surely similar experiences were waiting for me in this chateau . if only I could stay to enjoy them.

I closed my eyes and felt the rocking of the train; I thought of the life of the castle and the life outside it. The peasants tending the grape-vines, exulting in the vendange. I wondered whether the

peasant-woman’s child was born and whether it was a boy; I wondered what the Comte’s cousin was thinking of me, or whether he had dismissed me from his mind. I slept and dreamed I was in a picture gallery, that I was cleaning a picture and that the colours which were emerging were more brilliant than any I had ever seen before-emerald against grey scarlet and gold.

“Mademoiselle …”

I started out of my chair, and for a moment couldn’t remember where I was. A woman was standing before me small, thin, her brows brought together in a frown which suggested anxiety rather than annoyance. Her dusty-looking hair was arranged in curls and bangs, puffed up and frizzed in a vain attempt to hide how scanty it was. Anxious grey eyes studied me from under the frown. She wore a white blouse adorned with little pink satin bows and a dark blue skirt. Her hands nervously plucked at the pink bow at her throat.

“I fell asleep,” I said.

“You must be very tired. Monsieur de la Talle has suggested that I should take you to the gallery, but perhaps you would rather rest a little longer.”

“Oh, no, no. What is the time?” I consulted the gold watch it had belonged to my mother which was pinned to my blouse. As I did so I saw the hair falling over my shoulders and I felt myself flush slightly. Hastily I pushed it back.

“I must have been so tired that I slept. I’ve been travelling through the night.”

“Of course. I will come back.”

“That is good of you. Will you please tell me who you are? You know I am Miss Lawson come from England toer .”

“Yes, I know. We were expecting a gentleman. I am Mademoiselle Dubois, the governess.”

“Oh I had no idea …” I stopped. Why should I have any idea as to who was who in this household? The thought of my hair flowing down my back was disconcerting It was making me stammer in a way I never should if I could have presented my usual severe demeanour.

“Perhaps you would prefer me to come back in say … half an hour?”

“Give me ten minutes in which to make myself presentable and then I shall be happy to accept your kind offer. Mademoiselle Dubois.”

She ceased to frown and smiled rather uncertainly. As soon as she had left me I went back to the ruelle and looked at myself. What a sight!

I thought. My face flushed, \softline my eyes bright, and my hair in such confusion! I seized my hair and drew it tightly back from my forehead; I i plaited it and wound the plaits into a bulky mound which I pinned up on the top of my head. I looked taller that way. The flush was dying from my cheeks and my eyes were now dull grey. They were the shade of water and reflected other colours I wore as the sky will change the colour of the sea. For that reason I should have worn greens and blues; but having assured myself that my assets did not lie in personal attractions and that if I were going to win the confidence of my employers I must present myself as a sensible woman, I cultivated dull colours as I did my somewhat prickly exterior. I believed they were the necessary weapons for a woman alone in the world with her own battles to fight. Now my mouth was set in the firm no-nonsense lines which I tried to adopt; and by the time Mademoiselle Dubois returned I was ready to play my familiar role.

She looked startled when she saw me, so I knew what a bad impression I had made in the first place. Her eyes went to my head and I felt a grim satisfaction, for now there was not a hair out of place it was neat and severe as I liked it to be.