Temptation of a Teacher Read online

  “I want you,” he breathed. “Whatever you feel about me is of little consequence because I want you.”

  Now there was a note in his voice that told her that he was not pretending and that she genuinely excited him.

  And there was a fire in his eyes that was unmistakable.

  “Let me go!” she cried out, pushing him away from her with both her hands on his chest, knowing how ineffectual she was being, as his lips were almost touching hers.

  She turned her head frantically first one way and then the other to try to avoid him.

  She felt his mouth warm and insistent against her cheek.

  Then, as she gave another cry, knowing that she was completely helpless, the door opened and as the Comte released her, Pauline came running in.

  “I am late, m’mselle,” she cried, “but I fell asleep and ma Bonne did not wake me.”

  Breathless and, feeling her heart beating in an agitated manner, Arletta managed to answer.

  “You are not too late – for your lesson – and as it is such a lovely afternoon – we will go into the garden.”

  She realised that her voice was coming in jerks as she spoke, but Pauline did not seem to notice.

  Instead she was looking at the Comte and said,

  “I don’t want you, Cousin Jacques, to listen to my lessons. You will laugh when I make mistakes.”

  “I don’t laugh at Mademoiselle Turner,” he told her.

  His eyes were on Arletta and she knew that instead of being angry he was amused by what had happened.

  He was obviously confident that she would eventually capitulate and do what he asked of her.

  Because she felt that she could not bear to be near him for another moment, she picked up her hat from where she had put it on a chair and then said to Pauline,

  “Come along, let’s go into the garden just as we are and you can tell me the names – of the flowers and the birds in English.”

  “I can remember some of them, mademoiselle.”

  Pauline slipped her hand into Arletta’s as she spoke and, without either of them giving another glance at the Comte, they went out of the schoolroom and down the stairs towards the door that led into the garden.

  In the sunshine, as she began to teach Pauline, Arletta felt her agitation subside.

  At the same time she was aware that, if this was the danger that the witch had spoken about, it was something that would happen again and again.

  She wondered how she could possibly persuade the Comte to leave her alone and even for one moment contemplated speaking to the Duc.

  Then she was sure that, as he hated her for being English, he would be certain that it was her fault and that she had encouraged the Comte to behave so insultingly.

  ‘What can I do, what can I do?’ she asked herself desperately.

  It was a question that was at the back of her mind all the afternoon as they wandered round the beautiful gardens.

  They sat at length on a stone seat beneath a statue of Aphrodite.

  Looking back at the Château silhouetted against a cloudless blue sky, Arletta felt that it was so lovely that it was wrong for so many conflicting and unpleasant emotions to be harboured inside it.

  How could anybody living amid such beauty have nothing but hatred in their hearts?

  She must have been silent for some minutes because Pauline became bored and jumped up from her side to run towards the fountain.

  Arletta saw that she was watching the goldfish swimming in and out of the water lily leaves in the stone bowl.

  She thought as she looked at the child with the water rising up behind her that this was another picture that, as far as she was concerned, would be always unforgettable.

  Then to her astonishment a voice came from behind her,

  “What are you thinking about, Miss Turner?”

  She looked up to see that it was the Duc.

  He had obviously just come back from riding for he was wearing his riding breeches and jacket.

  She would have risen, but he said, “no, don’t get up,” and sat down beside her.

  “If you are back, monsieur,” she said, “I should go to find David.”

  “David wanted to practise over the smaller jumps in what I call my riding school,” the Duc replied. “I have left my Head Groom with him, so he does not require your attention at present.”

  As he spoke in his dry rather cynical manner, he made Arletta feel as if she was being needlessly fussy.

  She turned her head away to look again at Pauline by the fountain.

  “I would be interested to know, Miss Turner, what you think of my Château,” the Duc enquired.

  Arletta smiled,

  “I was thinking just a minute ago, monsieur, that it is so beautiful that everybody who looks at it and lives in it should think only of love and not anything wrong or evil.”

  “Love is something that most women are mainly concerned with,” the Duc observed cynically.

  “I don’t mean that – kind of love,” Arletta said sharply. “I mean the love of beauty that one finds in the countryside, in your garden and should be in a building that is so old and so perfectly preserved.”

  “I stand corrected!”

  Arletta knew that he was being sarcastic and she responded,

  “Perhaps you will think it very impertinent of me, monsieur, but while you are entitled to be cynical if you wish, it is wrong for children and quite frankly I am worried in case, being orphans, David and Pauline should grow up with the wrong ideas about life.”

  She felt as she spoke that she was being extremely brave in telling the Duc the truth.

  But she told herself that perhaps it would make him think that he should not show his feelings so obviously.

  The Duc looked at her quizzically before he remarked,

  “I have a feeling, Miss Turner, that even for an Englishwoman you are a very unusual type of Governess.”

  “I think that all Governesses are intimately concerned with their charges and it is not just a question of teaching lessons but also teaching them about life.”

  “And that is a subject that you know a great deal about?” the Duc remarked and once again he was being sarcastic.

  “I suppose the truth is,” Arletta replied, “that I know very little and that is why I still, monsieur, have illusions and ideals and I have no wish to lose them here.”

  She knew as she spoke that she had surprised him and he said,

  “You have made your point, Miss Turner. And I shall certainly think over what you have said to me.”

  He rose abruptly from the stone seat and, as he walked away, Arletta wondered if she had offended him and perhaps she had made a mistake in saying so much.

  She thought now that it was time they returned to the Château and the schoolroom and she therefore called Pauline and they went back through the formal garden with the little girl telling her about the goldfish as they went.

  They walked in through the garden door and, as they reached the passage that led up to the schoolroom, she saw that the Comte was waiting for them.

  As she had no wish to speak to him, Pauline ran ahead up the steps to the tower.

  When Arletta would have followed her, the Comte seized her wrist and stopped her.

  “What was my cousin saying to you?” he demanded fiercely.

  Arletta, who had been expecting him to ask something very different, looked at him in surprise.

  “Does it matter?”

  “I want to know!”

  There was something fierce about the way that the Comte spoke and the expression in his eyes.

  “It was not very interesting,” Arletta said hastely. “He was just explaining that David had not returned to the schoolroom – but was practising over the jumps.”

  “Is that all?” the Comte enquired.

  “That is all of – any consequence.”

  As she spoke, Arletta twisted her wrist free of his hand and walked away.

  She had a strong
feeling that he was watching her until she disappeared through the schoolroom door.

  She could not believe that he was jealous and yet there was something sharp about his questions that told her he was perturbed because the Duc had spoken to her in the garden.

  ‘He is certainly very tiresome,’ she told herself.

  Then she wondered once again how she could persuade him to leave her alone.

  *

  That evening to Arletta’s surprise there were several guests for dinner.

  Among them were the Marquis and Marquise de Vasson, who lived, Arletta learnt, about six miles from the Château.

  The Marquise de Vasson was an extremely beautiful woman who was just at the age when her youth was a little behind her and middle age just a few years ahead.

  She sat on the Duc’s right and, because Arletta found it fascinating to watch the French visitors, she was quite certain before dinner ended that the Duc and the Marquise had at one time been very close to each other.

  It was obvious that she was still attracted to him and used every wile to hold his interest and was perhaps tring to revive the flame that had burnt itself out.

  Arletta had no idea why she should know these things.

  Yet, although she had expected a Frenchwoman to be flirtatious when she was with an attractive man, she knew instinctively with a perception that she was not aware she possessed that the Marquise was still infatuated by the Duc.

  He spoke to her in his dry manner and there was nothing in his expression or in his half-closed eyes to make Arletta think that his feelings were in any way unusual.

  And yet she knew, almost as if somebody had told her, that at one time he had felt very differently.

  The Marquis was a much older man with white hair, slightly deaf, and who talked incessantly and extremely boringly on obscure subjects that were not particularly interesting to anyone else at the table.

  The Comte had on either side of him two middle-aged but good-looking women, who were very eager to entertain him.

  Arletta realised that he was bored and was aware that his eyes kept straying down the table to where she was sitting with the children.

  That was also true of another man in the party, the husband of one of the women beside the Comte.

  Arletta was certain that he was the local roué, the type of elderly man who would pursue any young girl if he had the chance.

  He had singled her out before dinner when the children had been taken to the salon to meet the Duc’s guests.

  She noted that David bowed, French fashion, over the ladies’ hands and Pauline dropped little curtseys to everybody.

  Arletta stood in the background, remembering how her own Governess had behaved when she was a child, but to her surprise the Duc had brought her forward and introduced her whilst saying,

  “I know you will be astonished to see that I have an Englishwoman in the Château, but David and Pauline’s aunt, Lady Langley, who was here recently, insisted that they should learn English, which is a subject, as you are well aware, I have no intention of teaching them myself!”

  There was laughter at this and the Marquise put her hand on his arm and said in a voice that was full of meaning,

  “Why should you, my dear Duc, teach anything but the art that you are supreme and unchallenged in?”

  “You flatter me,” the Duc responded dryly and continued to introduce Arletta to his guests.

  She had not made the mistake of dressing up when she heard that there was to be a dinner party.

  Instead she had worn the most severe evening gown she possessed, which actually was very becoming and had deliberately arranged her hair in a way that she thought was most appropriate for a Governess.

  However, because it waved naturally, no matter how tightly she dragged it back, in a few minutes it was in waves against her oval forehead and because her hair was so long it was impossible to wear it in a bun and so she arranged it in a chignon at the back of her head.

  ‘Nobody will notice me,’ she told herself, ‘and all I have to do is to look neat and tidy.’

  But as Jane had mentioned, Arletta made everything she wore seem a perfect frame for her figure and there was nothing she could do to alter her large eyes that dominated her small pointed face.

  “And are you a very strict Governess?” the old roué asked her in a low voice so that he could not be overheard.

  “I try to be,” Arletta replied.

  “I think, mademoiselle,” he went on, “your lips were not made for speaking English to the Duc’s nephew and niece but for kisses!”

  To Arletta’s annoyance she found herself blushing before she turned away to speak to Pauline.

  She was well aware during dinner that the roué was watching her from the other side of the table.

  In fact wherever she looked she encountered either his eyes or the Comte’s.

  When dinner finally came to an end, she was relieved to be able to take Pauline upstairs, although David stayed with the guests a little longer.

  Then, just as Arletta was thinking that she would go to bed, he came into the schoolroom and, when he saw her smile, he said,

  “They talked about you when you had left, mademoiselle.”

  “What did they say?” Arletta enquired.

  “They all commented that you were too young and too pretty to be a Governess! The Marquise told Uncle Etienne that she would find somebody better than you to teach us.”

  “And what did your uncle reply to that?”

  “I spoke first,” David replied, “and I told the Marquise that you were a really good Governess and I had learnt a lot of English and I had no wish to have anybody else to teach me.”

  Arletta was touched.

  “That was very sweet of you, David.”

  “They all laughed at me,” David added a little resentfully, “and the fat man with the red face said, ‘you are quite right, my boy, you keep her while you have the chance’.”

  “Thank you,” Arletta smiled at him. “And now as it is so late you had better go to bed otherwise we shall waste time in the morning and that would be a mistake.”

  “My English is better, is it not, mademoiselle?” David asked anxiously.

  “You have worked very hard and I am very proud of you,” Arletta answered. “I do not believe that anybody could have learnt English faster than you have, but there is still a great deal more to do.”

  “I know,” David replied, “and before I go to sleep I talk to myself in English and I try to think in it too.”

  “That is very very sensible of you.”

  For the first time since she had been in the Château she bent her head and kissed him.

  To her surprise he put his arms around her and gave her a hug.

  “I like being with you, mademoiselle,” he murmured.

  She had the feeling that he was missing his mother and hugged him back before she answered,

  “Good night, David, sleep well and happy dreams.”

  “I should say that to you in case the ghosts come to haunt you.”

  “I doubt if they will.”

  Arletta smiled and went upstairs to her bedroom in the tower.

  The maid had left a small oil lamp burning by her bed, which was turned low, and she crossed the room to turn it up before she walked back to the door to lock it.

  It was then to her surprise that she found the key that had been there the night before and every night since she had come to the Château was no longer in the lock.

  She thought that it must have fallen out and then searched on the floor, but there was no sign of it.

  Then suddenly she was nervous.

  Suppose the Comte, after what he had said, came to her room?

  She could hardly believe that he would do such a thing and yet the way he had spoken when he tried to kiss her had been frightening.

  Then she remembered the way that he had questioned her about the Duc and she thought that he must be jealous.

  If he came la
te at night, there would be no one to hear her if she screamed, except for the children and she was certain that they slept soundly.

  She suddenly felt very young and helpless and knew that Jane had been right when she had warned her against Frenchmen.

  It seemed inconceivable that the Comte could behave in such a dishonourable way to a woman who was employed by his cousin.

  Yet she had the inescapable feeling that the explanation of her key having vanished was that he had taken it.

  ‘What shall I do? What shall I do?’ she asked herself.

  She felt that she must ask somebody to help her, but she knew that really the only person she could appeal to was the Duc and that was impossible.

  She thought of going to find the housekeeper and asking if she could change her room and then remembered how everybody gossiped in the Château.

  If she said anything about a missing key, it would undoubtedly make the staff suspicious.

  Speculation as to who had taken it would run from room to room like wildfire and would certainly reach the Duchesse’s ears.

  ‘What shall I do?’ she asked again.

  She decided that the Comte was far more frightening than any ghost could ever be.

  Suddenly she had an idea.

  The first day when David had taken her round the Château he had shown her the Armoury.

  She had seen the cannon, the bows and arrows and the old muskets that had been used by the private Army of the Ducs de Sauterre.

  But also in the huge room, which was at the bottom of one of the towers, there had been a cabinet where was displayed a number of smaller weapons.

  “Some of these,” David explained, “were given as presents to various Ducs by Kings, Princes, Sultans and Sheiks.”

  Because the small boy had been in a hurry to show Arletta everything in the Armoury, she had time for only a perfunctory glance at the cabinet and what it contained.

  Now she remembered that she had noticed a small revolver set with jewels.

  “What is that?” she had asked David, attracted by the glittering stones.

  He did not answer. He had moved away, but she saw written on a card the date that it had been presented to the then Duc by the Czar of Russia.

  Because she was sure that it was the only protection that might help her now, she ran as quickly as she could down the twisting staircase of the tower.