The Eye Of The Gazer

Chapter 4

"Miss Currer, what think you of Divination?"

Jane Currer raised her head slightly fearfully as she was thus addressed by Lucius Malfoy. She was seated by the fire in his study. He had taken to asking her to sit with him in the evening. Each time, she felt compelled to obey him, even though he always formed the invitation as a request, not a command; but each time he looked at her as if he could see into her thoughts, and knew that she would not refuse. She had become accustomed to sitting opposite him during this last week, when she and Bryony were both staying at Malfoy Manor. Cho Chang was in Hong Kong on business, and had left her daughter in her father's care, on the understanding that lessons with Miss Currer were to proceed as usual.

Sometimes Lucius would speak to Jane, or more often request her to speak to him. On these occasions, he would close his eyes, lean back and listen, only interrupting occasionally to ask a question, or to urge her to continue if she paused. She thought he merely liked to listen to her voice, the topic was of lesser importance.

On other occasions, he would sit and read, and indicate that she should do likewise. They would then read in companionable silence, for Jane's initial fear of Mr Malfoy lessened with each encounter, although she could never entirely relax in his formidable presence.

But this was something new. "Fortune telling?" she asked, frowning a little. "I never thought about it since school. Is it true magic, or merely a deceit practised upon the gullible? Why do you ask me?"

"What would you say if I offered to read your fortune, Jane Currer?" asked Mr Malfoy.

"I should say, you may please yourself, Mr Malfoy; but I warn you, I have no faith in it."

"I like your impudence. I expected it of you."

"Impudence? Am I then once more a servant challenging my master?"

"You are right, Miss Currer. I am in the wrong again. But if it pleases me, will you consent to allow it?"

"I will, Sir."

"Then hold out your hand."

"And must I pay you with silver?" she enquired with a small smile.

"That will not be necessary, as I do this entirely for my own amusement," he replied gravely, but with a slight twinkle in his eye, "But if it seems proper to you, then by all means lay a sickle on your palm."

Jane held out her hand. Lucius examined it thoroughly. Then he shook his head. "I can make nothing of your palm, it's almost without lines. Besides, what's in a palm? I believe destiny does not lie there."

"I'm sure you're right, Sir."

"No. It's in the face: the forehead, the eyes, the lines of the mouth. Let me look at your face."

Jane remained still under his scrutiny, as he examined her face closely.

"Jane Currer, I see an inner calm; and I see bravery."

"Bravery? How, Sir?"

"You dare to look me in the eyes."

"Should I not dare? You yourself said that I am no servant. A cat may look at a king."

"You deliberately misunderstand me. You know well what I mean. Many women turn away when they see me. It used not to be so. A few years ago, for me women were there for the taking. I know I was admired. Now they fear me. I see it in their eyes: disgust, fascination, horror, pity. They cannot bear to look at me, but they cannot stop their eyes from staring at this apology for a face. But you do not turn away. Your eyes show no emotion but kindness. For this alone, I would have you as a companion."

"I did not know that the injury was so recent, Sir. I lived in Brussels for many years, I never saw your face before to compare. I saw much worse during the wizarding war, believe me."

"Yes, I'm sure you did. But the suffering of others is no comfort for someone like me, who had so many women I can't recall all of their beautiful faces. Yet I know they were all beautiful, for I never looked at a plain woman till now."

Jane stood up suddenly. A change had come over her. "Excuse me, Mr Malfoy," she said stiffly, "I must go to bed now. I have an early start tomorrow." She turned and walked out of the room, tears pricking the back of her eyes.

The following day, Jane taught Bryony as usual, and then took her round the grounds of Malfoy Manor, as the weather was fine. Following their nursery tea, after Bryony had been relinquished into the care of the house elves, Jane wondered what to do with herself, for she could not go and sit in Mr Malfoy's study and pretend everything was as before. She was not however completely familiar with Malfoy Manor. Where else could she sit? The drawing room was unused, she was sure. She would retire to her room, which was comfortable enough, and had a fireplace with an easy chair set beside it. She began to climb the stairs, when she heard a voice behind her.

"Miss Currer! Are you very tired? Have you had an exhausting day? Or are you merely fetching something from upstairs?"

Jane turned and looked down on Lucius Malfoy. The lamplight cast shadows on his face, she could not read his expression here away from the window. "I am tired, yes Sir," she replied.

"I do not believe you."

"You may believe as you choose, Sir, but I am going to my room."

"That impudence again! Come, sit with me awhile. You need not speak if you are tired. You can fall asleep by the fire, I shan't mind."

"That would be poor company for you, Mr Malfoy."

"Haven't I just said I shan't mind? Why don't you want to sit with me, Miss Currer?"

"Please, Sir, I would prefer to go to my room."

"Such stubbornness! I say plainly, I do not believe you are tired. You are trying to avoid me. What if I commanded you?"

"You cannot, Sir. I am not a servant, and even if I were, you do not pay me. Old Madam Chang pays me, and even she does not command me."

"Then if I ask you nicely? What manner of plea would persuade you?"

"You cannot persuade me."

"How so? But we have spent so many pleasant evenings in each other's company. What is different today?"

"It is the fact that you do not recognise the difference that makes it so." Jane flushed as she said this, but her face was determined.

Lucius stared at her. She looked back defiantly.

"Miss Currer, I find myself apologising to you rather often. You must know I am not in the habit of apologising to anyone, especially when I do not have a reason. If you want me to say sorry yet again, you will have to explain yourself."

"I do not expect you to apologise at all. I wish you to allow me to go to my room."

"Miss Currer, if you are so determined, then you shall go to your room. All I ask is an explanation, and all you do is speak in riddles. Tell me what is wrong! I never met such a vexing witch in my life!"

"Mr Malfoy, you should think over what you said to me last evening, but I expect you cannot remember at all. You are no doubt accustomed to speaking in such a manner to people you think are your inferiors. Do you think I am a machine without feelings? Do you think because I am poor, obscure and little, I do not care what you say to me? If I had some beauty and much wealth, you would not think to address me so! Well, I speak to you now as your equal, for such I am, whatever you think!"

Lucius frowned. Jane could see he was trying to remember their exchange of the previous evening. She could also see that he recalled nothing that he should not have said. She turned and walked upstairs, her back rigidly towards him, and her head facing firmly forwards, so that he should not see that her eyes were shining with tears. It was all she could do to reach her room safely, for she could not see the way, and was afraid that what remained of her dignity would be shattered should she trip over the edge of a carpet.

When she had successfully entered her room, she did not sit by the fire, but once the door was safely closed, she threw herself onto the bed, and no longer tried to stop the tears. They fell freely, until she could hardly breathe, and had to cough and gasp to allow some air into her lungs once more. Jane Currer was angry, hurt and confused. She had been unable to get Lucius Malfoy out of her head since she had first set eyes on him. Whenever she saw him, her body reacted instantaneously under her modest clothing. She had blossomed under the attention he had paid her. His reputation went before him, but he had always been so kind and considerate that she had readily tolerated the underlying arrogance, flattered that he should want her near him.

But he had shattered everything. He had called her "plain" to her face.

Plain Jane: a cliché.

She knew she was plain, but it was more than unkind to say so in front of her. No gentlewizard would dream of such behaviour to a lady: but he did not regard her as a lady, he thought of her as a glorified servant, whatever he said to the contrary. Before, she had wanted this week at Malfoy Manor to last forever. Now she could not wait for it to be over, so that she could retire once more into her virginal cocoon at Gildenford Hall.

Jane began to undress for bed, for she knew she could not relax with a book now. All she could do was hope for the blessed oblivion of sleep.

Lucius sat in his study, alone this evening for the first time in five days. He had been to wish Bryony goodnight after she had been bathed and put to bed by her house elf nursemaid. His daughter had demanded a bedtime story. Lucius had complied, smiling to himself at her insistence on the same story as the night before. He did a small performance for her as he read aloud, changing his voice for each character, trying hard to remember the right voice for each one, for Bryony would be sure to tell him if he made a mistake. Then he had kissed her goodnight, and she had flung her short arms around his neck, and hugged him tightly. Lucius now smiled to himself once more at this recollection, and felt a tug at his heart strings. Bryony was the one person in his life who accepted him as he was. There was nothing in her eyes except love for him: there was no horror or pity. Until now, he had not met another person who looked at him without reacting to the destruction of his face.

Until now. Now there was Jane Currer.

Lucius' thoughts turned to her. He knew that previously he would not have given her a second glance. What was it she had said? "I am poor, obscure and little." Had he called her any of these to her face? No he had not. He did not in any case think of her that way. Her family was old and respectable, certainly not obscure, but they had fallen on hard times. They were not unique. Witches from such families who were not inclined to follow a career often took a post as a governess. There was no shame in this, all pure blood wizarding families needed a governess. Little? Yes she was small in height, but her personality made up for that. She stood up to him fearlessly, she was no shrinking miss.

What had he said to Miss Currer that had upset her so? And why did he care so much what she thought of him? When Cho came back from her trip to Hong Kong, he need not see Jane again when she was once more ensconced in the Chang house. Lucius found that this thought filled him with regret. He wanted to continue to see Miss Currer; to listen to her calm, quiet voice washing over him. He loved that voice.

What about the rest of her? As far as he could see, for she was always swathed in robes from neck to ankle, she was well proportioned for her height, with a pleasing shape. Her hair was always imprisoned in a bun at the nape of her neck, but it was a pretty shade of mid brown that shone with reddish lights when she stood in the sun. Her eyes were grey, like his own, and she always looked him firmly in the face so that he could admire their clarity and honesty. In fact, she was hardly plain at all.

Plain. That was it. He remembered now. He had called her plain last evening. He had been so obsessed with his own feelings that he had not noticed. Lucius closed his eyes and silently cursed himself. How could he? What could he possibly say to Jane now that would make her want to sit by him? He had to be honest with her; he knew that if he lied to her in lieu of an apology, she would see straight through him.

Lucius poured himself a very large glass of Glen Foy single malt, and pondered as he stared into the fire.

Watching the dancing flames, his thoughts turned abruptly from his daughter's governess to the events of some years earlier.