Read Online King of the Castle by Victoria Holt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Holt
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Romance, Historical, Fiction in English, Mystery and Detective Fiction
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in this strange household.” Then again she would be jeering at me. Yet I was not afraid of her. There was another shady shape to strike terror into me. Monsieur Ie Comte. I heard the words as though from a long way; then growing so loud that it was like someone shouting in my ears.
I awoke startled. Someone was shouting. There were voices below and scurrying footsteps along the corridor. The chateau was waking up although it was not morning. In fact the candle I hastily lighted showed me my watch lying on the table and this told me it was only just after eleven.
I knew what was happening. It was what everyone was waiting for and dreading.
The Comte had come home.
I lay sleepless, wondering what the morning would bring.
The chateau was quiet when I awoke at my usual time. Briskly I rose and rang for my hot water. It came promptly.
The maid looked different, I told myself. She was uneasy. So the Comte had his effect even on the humblest servants.
“You would like your petit dejeuner as usual, mademoiselle?”
I looked surprised and said: “But of course, please.”
I guessed they were all talking about me, asking themselves what my fate would be. I looked round the room. Perhaps I shall never sleep here again, I thought. Then I was unhappy thinking of leaving the chateau, never really knowing these people who had taken such a hold on my imagination. I wanted to know more of Genevieve, to try to understand her. I wanted to see what effect on Philippe de la Talle his cousin’s return would have. I wanted to know how far Nounou was responsible for the waywardness of her charge. I should have liked to hear what had happened to Mademoiselle Dubois before she had come to the chateau. Then of course there were the Bastides. I wanted to sit in that cosy room and talk about the vines and the chateau. But most of all I wanted to meet the Comte not just once and briefly to receive my dismissal, but to learn more of a man who, it seemed generally believed, had been responsible for the death of his wife, even if he had not actually administered the poison dose.
My breakfast came and I felt too excited for food, but I was determined none of them should say that I was so frightened that I had been unable to eat, so I drank two cups of coffee as usual and ate my twist of hot bread. Then I went along to the gallery.
It was not easy to work. I had already prepared an estimate which Philippe de la Talle had said would be given to the Comte on his return. He had smiled at me when I gave it to him and glancing through it had remarked that it looked like the work of an expert. I was sure he was’ hoping it would please the Comte-partly, I imagined, to justify his having allowed me to stay, but there was an element of kindness in him, I was sure, which
made him want me to have the job because I had betrayed how badly I needed it. I summed him up as a man who would be kind, unless being so made too many demands upon him.
I imagined the Comte’s receiving my estimate, hearing that a woman had come instead of a man. But I could not picture him clearly. All I could imagine was a haughty man in white wig and crown. It was a picture I had seen either of Louis XIV or XV. The King . the King of the Castle.
I had a note-pad with me and tried to jot down a few points which I had passed over on my previous examination If he will let me stay, I told myself, I shall become so absorbed in the work that he can have murdered twenty wives for all I care.
There was one painting in the gallery which had particularly caught my attention. It was a portrait of a woman. The costume placed it in the eighteenth century mid or perhaps a little later. It interested me not because of the excellence of the work there were better pictures in the gallery but because although it was of a later date than most of them it was in a greater state of deterioration. The varnish was very dark and the whole surface was mottled as though it suffered from a skin
I awoke startled. Someone was shouting. There were voices below and scurrying footsteps along the corridor. The chateau was waking up although it was not morning. In fact the candle I hastily lighted showed me my watch lying on the table and this told me it was only just after eleven.
I knew what was happening. It was what everyone was waiting for and dreading.
The Comte had come home.
I lay sleepless, wondering what the morning would bring.
The chateau was quiet when I awoke at my usual time. Briskly I rose and rang for my hot water. It came promptly.
The maid looked different, I told myself. She was uneasy. So the Comte had his effect even on the humblest servants.
“You would like your petit dejeuner as usual, mademoiselle?”
I looked surprised and said: “But of course, please.”
I guessed they were all talking about me, asking themselves what my fate would be. I looked round the room. Perhaps I shall never sleep here again, I thought. Then I was unhappy thinking of leaving the chateau, never really knowing these people who had taken such a hold on my imagination. I wanted to know more of Genevieve, to try to understand her. I wanted to see what effect on Philippe de la Talle his cousin’s return would have. I wanted to know how far Nounou was responsible for the waywardness of her charge. I should have liked to hear what had happened to Mademoiselle Dubois before she had come to the chateau. Then of course there were the Bastides. I wanted to sit in that cosy room and talk about the vines and the chateau. But most of all I wanted to meet the Comte not just once and briefly to receive my dismissal, but to learn more of a man who, it seemed generally believed, had been responsible for the death of his wife, even if he had not actually administered the poison dose.
My breakfast came and I felt too excited for food, but I was determined none of them should say that I was so frightened that I had been unable to eat, so I drank two cups of coffee as usual and ate my twist of hot bread. Then I went along to the gallery.
It was not easy to work. I had already prepared an estimate which Philippe de la Talle had said would be given to the Comte on his return. He had smiled at me when I gave it to him and glancing through it had remarked that it looked like the work of an expert. I was sure he was’ hoping it would please the Comte-partly, I imagined, to justify his having allowed me to stay, but there was an element of kindness in him, I was sure, which
made him want me to have the job because I had betrayed how badly I needed it. I summed him up as a man who would be kind, unless being so made too many demands upon him.
I imagined the Comte’s receiving my estimate, hearing that a woman had come instead of a man. But I could not picture him clearly. All I could imagine was a haughty man in white wig and crown. It was a picture I had seen either of Louis XIV or XV. The King . the King of the Castle.
I had a note-pad with me and tried to jot down a few points which I had passed over on my previous examination If he will let me stay, I told myself, I shall become so absorbed in the work that he can have murdered twenty wives for all I care.
There was one painting in the gallery which had particularly caught my attention. It was a portrait of a woman. The costume placed it in the eighteenth century mid or perhaps a little later. It interested me not because of the excellence of the work there were better pictures in the gallery but because although it was of a later date than most of them it was in a greater state of deterioration. The varnish was very dark and the whole surface was mottled as though it suffered from a skin
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