I went to her room. She was looking out of the window, obviously expecting me, and I could see she was preparing to enjoy a battle.
I said: “Why are you not in the schoolroom?”
“I don’t feel like lessons today,” she replied jauntily.
“It doesn’t matter how you feel. This is lesson-time.”
“You can’t make me.”
“I certainly would not attempt to take you there by force. I shall go to your mother and tell her that you have made up your mind not to learn and there is no point in my being here.”
It was a bold step. I could not bear the thought of leaving now. Yet I knew I could get nowhere unless I had some authority over her.
She looked at me defiantly. My heart sank but I hoped I hid my feelings. I had gone too far to turn back.
“You really mean you’d go?” I saw the fear in her eyes mingling with disbelief. I sensed that she was as uneasy as I was.
I said firmly: “If you will not come to the schoolroom I have no alternative.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“All right,” she said.
“Go, if you want to.”
I walked to the door. I must not show my despair. If this was to be the end, what good had I done? But there was no turning back now. I went out. She did not move. I started down the stairs. Then I heard her.
“Come back, Cranny.”
I paused and turned to look back at her.
“All right,” I said.
“I’ll come.”
I felt flushed with victory as we made our way to the schoolroom.
She was in a difficult mood all day. I wondered why. Perhaps she felt she had been good too long and it was not in her nature to be so.
I found a dead shrew mouse in my bed that night. I carefully wrapped it up in tissue paper and went along to her room.
“I think this poor little thing belongs to you,” I said.
She looked aghast.
“Where did you find it?”
“Where you put it. In my bed.”
“I bet you screamed when you found it.”
“I did not think it frightening or funny. It’s just a rather silly cliche really.”
I could see her pondering on the word cliche. She loved discovering new words; but she was not in the mood to ask me what it meant.
I went on: “I wonder how many times some mischievous child has put a shrew mouse in someone’s bed. It’s really rather silly. You do the expected thing, Kate.”
She was a little downcast. Then she said: “Well … you brought it back, didn’t you? You were going to put it in my bed.”
“I should have done no such thing. I merely wanted you to know that your silly trick had not had the effect you thought it would. Now, if we are going to have a truce, we should put an end to these childish tricks. It would be more interesting to get on well together. There are many exciting things we could do. We don’t want to waste time having tantrums and playing silly tricks. We can talk …”
“What about?”
“About life … people …”
“Murder?” she put in.
I thought: Yes, about one. I said: “What we can do is finish Treasure Island.”
‘ “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest,” she sang,”
“Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum.”
I smiled.
“There are lots of books we can read. You haven’t read The Count of Monte Cristo yet. I saw it in the cupboard. It’s about a man who was wrongfully imprisoned and escapes to have his revenge.”
Her eyes were round with interest.
“Well,” I went on, ‘if we don’t waste our time in silly ways, we might tackle that. And there are many more. “
She did not answer, but I felt I had won another battle.
I said: “What shall we do with this poor little mouse?”
“I’ll bury it,” she said.
“That’s right. And all your silly prejudices against governesses with it. Then perhaps we can start to enjoy our lessons.”
On that note, I left her. I was victorious and triumphant.
My handling of Kate was the wonder of the household. At last someone had been found who could turn the enfant terrible into a normal child or at least who had found a way to control her.
Mrs. Ford feted me. She was delighted. She mentioned my name in an awed whisper, as though I were a battle hero covered in military glory. I was quite an important figure in the household.
It was about a week after my arrival when Lady Perrivale asked me to come to her in the drawing-room.
She was very gracious.
“You and Kate seem to be getting along very well,” she began.
“That is very good. I knew all would be well if only we could get the right person.”
“I am quite inexperienced in governessing,” I reminded her.
“Well, that is just the point. These old women have too many rules.
They are too set in their ways to understand the modern child. “
“Kate is rather unusual.”
“Well, of course. But clearly you understand her. Are you completely satisfied with everything? Is there anything … ?”
“I am satisfied, thank you very much,” I replied.
Sir Tristan came into the room as though on a cue. It amused me to think he had been called in to add his praise to that of his wife.
Kate must have plagued them a good deal.
The thought crossed my mind that it was odd that a man who could murder his brother should be nonplussed by a wayward child. I pulled myself
up sharply. It was nonsensical to have settled on Sir Tristan as the murderer, just because of his saturnine looks. Though, of course, he had inherited the title, the estates . and Mirabel.
His shrewd dark eyes were assessing me. I felt guilty. I wondered what he would say if he could read my thoughts.
“I hear you are managing Kate,” he said, and added, with a little laugh, “Quite a feat. It’s very clever of you. Miss Cranleigh, to do what your predecessors so lamentably failed to.”
“She’s not an easy child,” I said.
“We are well aware of that, aren’t we?” he replied, looking at his wife.
She nodded ruefully.
“I think she needs a great deal of understanding,” I told them. I was wondering what Kate’s relationship was with these two. She had not given me an inkling. What of her father? What had happened to him? How did she feel about her mother’s engagement to Cosmo, and then, very soon after his death, the marriage to Tristan? These were matters I should like to know about. I believed they might help me solve the mystery.
“And you seem to be able to supply that.”
“As I have explained, I have never been a governess before.”
“You are too young, of course,” he said, smiling at me warmly.
“And too modest… is she not, my dear?”
“Far too modest,” added Lady Perrivale.
“Miss Cranleigh, I hope you will not be bored here.” She looked at her husband.
“We were going to say that perhaps … now and then … when we have a dinner party . you might care to join us. As a matter of fact, your friends are quite close neighbours of ours.”
“You mean the Lorimers?”
“Yes. So sad about the accident. I dare say they would not be in the
mood for visiting just yet. But perhaps later we might ask them … and then, of course, you must be among the guests.”
“That would be very pleasant.”
“We don’t want you to feel… isolated.”
I was thinking: This is what happens to some governesses when they are short of a guest and want to make up numbers, and if the governess is fairly presentable she is called in to fill the gap. On the other hand, they were clearly very anxious to keep me. How strange it was that I was the only one who had found a way to make this recalcitrant child less objectionable.
I said: “You are very kind. There is one thing …”