“It means ‘loved one’ in Slovakian,” said the girl.
Grace fluttered her eyelids, blinking back tears.
“Yes, Draska,” said Grace, composing herself again. “How could you ever wind up serving the Count?”
“Excuse me. My English no good. Repeat please.”
“Why do you work for the Count?”
“My mother, she cook. She and grandmother cook for he family, family Bathory, many years.”
“His family, his is the possessive pronoun. Not he family. ”
Draska smiled brightly, thought better of it, and looked at the carpeted floor.
“You know I am a prisoner?” said Grace, stirring her tea.
Draska hesitated.
“Yes, you guest. Count needs you.”
Grace flung the silver spoon on the carpet.
“Damn it! I am not a guest! I was kidnapped.”
The girl’s eyes flashed open, startled. She bent down to pick up the teaspoon.
“No understand.”
Grace fought for control. Screaming would be too easy and too wrong.
“Why does the Count need me? Why does he want my daughter?”
“I no know.”
“I don’t know.”
Draska smiled at the correction. “Yes, I don’t know. Good teacher. You teach me English.”
“My daughter will be worried about me. Just like your mother would be worried about you.”
Draska ducked her head. “Yes,” she mumbled.
Grace saw the girl’s pity. She seized upon it. “Maybe if I could get word to my daughter somehow.”
“Send e-mail.”
Grace stared at the girl.
“I can’t e-mail. There is no internet on that computer.”
“Oh.”
Grace drank her tea, wondering what the girl knew and didn’t know.
“Do you have e-mail?”
Draska smiled. “I have e-mail. I have text message. I have cell phone. I Twitter.”
“You could e-mail my daughter and tell her I am alive and well. You don’t have to tell her your name.”
Draska shifted her weight on her feet and shook her head vehemently. “Count not like. Count knows everything.”
Of course, thought Grace. He is probably monitoring Betsy’s e-mail somehow. Maybe the techie nerd has tapped into her account. Bathory then would read any communication that aroused suspicion, especially one sent from Slovakia.
“What if you were to send an e-mail to another friend, in another country?” Grace whispered, looking around the room for a hidden camera. “Do you have friends in other countries?”
Draska hesitated. “Here, good lady,” she said. “Help me correct my English on the computer.”
“Correct your English?” said Grace.
“See my homework in English. I have grammar questions. You correct, yes?”
Draska sat down at the computer, leaning her body close to the monitor. She opened a Word document and typed in:
MY COUSIN LIVE IN LONDON.
Grace began to smile, and then checked her emotion. She said, “The first person singular of ‘live’ is ‘lives.’ You must remember to add the ‘s’. Let me give you a few examples.”
She, too, moved close to the monitor, her back obscuring any hidden camera that might be focused on them. She set down her cup of tea.
GOOD. YOUR COUSIN SENDS A MESSAGE TO MY DAUGHTER. IT DOESN’T MENTION YOU OR ME. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. BUT SHE WILL KNOW IT IS FROM ME.
“Now see. I have written three sentences with errors. Can you rewrite them correctly?” said Grace, pointing at the screen.
Draska nodded, taking her place at the computer.
COUNT KNOW EVERYTHING. VERY DANGEROUS.
“Good, but not good enough. Look, you made a mistake here. I’ll correct it and we’ll try some negative third-person singular. Those are harder.”
WRITE TO YOUR COUSIN. USE A FRIEND’S COMPUTER AND AT THE END, INCLUDE MY MESSAGE. TELL HER TO CUT AND PASTE AND SEND IT ON TO MY DAUGHTER. IT COMES FROM .UK INSTEAD OF .SK. I WILL GIVE YOU TWO LETTERS. TELL YOUR COUSIN TO SEND THEM A FEW DAYS APART SO THERE IS NO SUSPICION.
“OK. Put the sentences in negative, third person singular.” Grace shifted position, always careful to block the computer screen.
MUST THINK. COUNT KNOWS EVERYTHING!
Draska closed the document, no changes saved.
“Thank you for lesson. Good teacher. Finish tea?”
Grace looked at the interior of her empty cup. Ancient white porcelain. Kings, queens, or other nobility had pressed their lips to the same gold rim. She stared into the young woman’s eyes, searching for some sign of agreement, some reassurance.
“I bring you dinner at six o’clock, Madam. Thank you for English lesson.”
Draska gathered up the teacup, saucer, and ornate silver spoon, placing them on a tray. Grace listened to the bright clink of the porcelain as it rattled away toward the door. She couldn’t help but wince, thinking of such an objet d’art being treated as common crockery.