Eugenia's Embrace

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Eugenia's Embrace Page 7

by Cassie Edwards


  Walking heavy-footed, she carried her change of clothes and a washcloth and towel to the small room at the end of the hall and stepped inside, locking the door behind her. It in no way resembled the bathroom that she had bathed in the day before. This porcelain bathtub was yellowed with age and was perched off the floor on squatty legs. And the washbasin wasn't in any better condition. Curling her nose, Eugenia tried to not inhale the unpleasant aroma of the room. The toilet reeked of dried urine. This was nothing like she remembered having seen, or smelled, at the Old Homestead Parlour. But she caught herself, ashamed for making comparisons with the house of evil.. To have those extras that one would find there one would have to pay with her body. No, she would do without. She was ready to even climb into any washtub, if she had to, to keep herself clean—clean from the touches of evil men.

  Knowing that this bathroom was used by all the boarders on this one floor, Eugenia hurried through her bath. After climbing out of the tub, she pulled her one other fresh dress over her head, wishing that she could go shopping to pick out several new ones. But she would do that after she lost the fullness of her waist. She would find only the prettiest ones, ones that dipped in at the waistline, ones that would make men turn and stare in her direction.

  A tapping at the door pulled Eugenia from her thoughts, making her jump with fright. "Who's there?" she whispered, grabbing her towel, wash-rag, and soiled dress.

  "Ma'am, will you please hurry out of there," the deep growl of a man's voice boomed. "You have been in there for way too long. The hotel houses more people than yourself."

  Eugenia pulled the plug from the tub and waited and listened as the water gurgled downward. Then she checked her appearance in the round mirror on the wall above the wash basin. She hadn't yet had a chance to brush her hair, but opened the door anyway. What met her eyes caught her by surprise. It was a man larger than she had yet to see in her entire life. His form filled the entirety of the doorway as he stood attired in a black suit, with the white lace of his shirt billowing out from the front of his suit jacket. His black hair was sleeked down flat and framed cleanshaven cheeks puffed out in red over a wide mouth. When a smile erupted his facial features, Eugenia inched her way toward him, but found it impossible to get past him.

  "So who do we have here?" this man asked, lifting a walking cane up, touching Eugenia on the shoulder with it.

  "My name be Eugenia Marie Scott," she mumbled, clutching her towel and clothes closely to her, in an effort to cover her body, which he was very boldly assessing with his dark eyes.

  "Are you staying here in the hotel?" he asked, lifting a brow.

  "I work here," she answered.

  "You work here?" he said, frowning. "You're much too much of a woman to be working in a place of this standard," he added, taking her by the arm, turning her, studying her.

  "Please don't," she said limply, hating the touch of his thick fingers. And she felt as though he was mentally undressing her. She knew that the cotton of her dress was thin from age but was glad that the dim lighting of the hallway helped disguise this.

  "I must introduce myself," he said, stepping back, bowing. "I'm Frederick Heinmarch. I'm the proprietor of the Heinmarch Opera House. I'm sure you've heard of it."

  "No, sir," she gulped. "I've never heard of it."

  His brows shot upward, making his eyes appear bulged. "You haven't heard of it? Pray tell, girl, where have you been keeping yourself?"

  Eugenia's shoulders drooped. "I only arrived in town yesterday, sir," she said, feeling her face reddening, hoping he would never know where she had spent her first night—hoping no one would ever know, or guess.

  "I hope to see you again, young lady," he said, fumbling with the fly on his pants, beginning to make his way past her on into the bathroom.

  Stunned by his abruptness, she stepped out into the hallway, and watched the door shut in her face.

  Trembling, she made her way to her room and locked the door behind her. She didn't quite know what to think of this man. She had expected for him to make advances to her at any moment, but he hadn't. Maybe, being the owner of an opera house, he had more class, was more respectful of a woman's feelings. This made her like him just a little, even though he was so fat and burly, and unpleasant to look at. She stretched out across the bed, remembering how well dressed he was, wondering which room he was staying in. He appeared to have a lot of money. He could afford to live anywhere, so she couldn't understand why he would choose a hotel instead of a home.

  Rising once again, Eugenia went to the window and looked down onto the street, watching the night's activity. It was much more quiet than Myers Anveue, where she had heard men fighting all night, even gunfire. Present on this street were the men riding by on horseback, an occasional black buggy stopping in front of the hotel, and the streetcars following their regular route. She wanted to go climb aboard one of these streetcars but knew that would have to come later, as so many of her dreams would have to do.

  She pulled her dress over her head and stood in her petticoat in front of the mirror, touching the firmness of her breasts and the thickness of her waist. She groaned inwardly. The waistline. If it wasn't for that she could be just as lovely. She pulled the petticoat over her head and put her night chemise on. She settled herself beneath a sheet on the soft bed, dropping into a restless sleep filled with worrying about being able to keep up with her daily chores. Hannah expected an awful lot out of her, and she was so tired…

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  The days had turned into weeks. August had faded away and Eugenia still knew nothing but cleaning and changing beds. She tucked the edge of a sheet beneath the corner of a bed, stopping to push some hair out of her eyes. She wiped her hands on her apron, then went to the window, staring outward at a world that was only one of bleakness for her. Tears veiled her eyes, then she wiped them clear when she heard movement behind her.

  "Well, if it isn't my beautiful lady," the voice grumbled behind her.

  Eugenia swung around and found Frederick Heinmarch filling the space of the doorway. And he was attired in the same manner as before; in all black except for the dainty ruffles at the front of his shirt. He swung his cane up into the air. "I was hoping I'd find you here. Eugenia, isn't it?" he continued.

  "Yes. Eugenia Marie Scott," she mumbled, her fingers loosening the ties on her apron, pulling it off to hold behind her.

  "Hannah's been getting the work out of you, huh?" he said, walking toward Eugenia, looking her up and down, frowning.

  "Yes, sir. I've been workin' hard. Sunup to sunset," Eugenia answered, laughing to herself, thinking his jaws resembled a feeding chipmunk's, so full and blown out.

  "Lost your heavy waistline, I see," he said, touching her, pinching at her skin beneath the now loosely fitted dress.

  "I'm proud to say I have," Eugenia said, keenly aware of the looseness of this dress. It was one thing that she could attribute to her hard days and weeks of labor. A diet hadn't had to be a part of her daily life as she had expected. The hard labor and single helpings had taken care of this particular problem. She was too tired most evenings to even touch food. She had so wanted to go shopping to purchase a new dress, but Hannah had continued to keep her too busy. Eugenia had even begun to feel taken advantage of. She still did not see any other girls participating in the same type of work. Eugenia was expected to do it all by herself.

  "I'd like to invite you to come to my home, Eugenia," Frederick said, clearing his voice.

  "Your… home… ?" she gasped.

  "Yes. I most certainly don't live here." He laughed. "I had only met with a musician friend of mine here the last time you and I met."

  "But why do you want me to come to your home?"

  Frederick cleared his throat once again. Shifting his eyes away from Eugenia, he said, "Hannah said that you're alone. And I live alone also now. In a huge house. Maybe you will even want to move into one of the rooms. You would be much more comfortable there."
r />   Eugenia covered her mouth with a hand. "Live in your house?" she gasped. "But I couldn't do that."

  "You could work out the cost of the room if that would make you more comfortable."

  Eugenia's fingers traveled over the simplicity of her attire. "I just can't, sir," she mumbled. "Somehow it wouldn't be right."

  Frederick laughed noisily. "Let me be the judge of that," he said, going to her, touching her affectionately on her arm. He frowned somewhat as she pulled back from him. Then he added, "Whatever I choose to do is respected by everyone in this town. If I choose to bring a young lady under my roof, no one will dare say anything against it."

  "Where do you live, Mr. Heinmarch?"

  "Please call me Frederick, Eugenia," he answered. "And my house? It stands at the end of this street. A white house, called The Towers. Maybe you noticed it."

  Eugenia's mind drew a blank. She had been inside this hotel, working so long, she had forgotten what she had seen outside its walls earlier. "No, I don't think so," she murmured.

  Frederick's eyes shot up in surprise. "You haven't noticed it?" he said.

  Eugenia lowered her eyes. "No, I'm afraid not," she answered softly.

  "You'd love it there. I know it," he said proudly.

  "I just don't know," Eugenia said, turning to look out of the window. Looking downward, she watched the women walking by in a gliding fashion, with their long-skirted dresses swirling around their legs. They were so beautiful and appeared not to have a care in the world. How she dreamed of becoming one of those ladies, to be admired by all, attired in silken gowns, green satin gowns. She turned back to face Frederick. "I just don't have any clothes that are fittin' to wear to visit your house," she said, her full pouting lips trembling visibly.

  "If you agree to come and live in my house, I'll see that you'll have the finest gowns from Europe," he said, wiping some beaded perspiration from his brow with a neatly folded handkerchief.

  "You will?" Eugenia gasped, hardly able to believe what was happening. She had worked night and day for weeks, hating her existence, and now this.

  "The finest of silks and satins," Frederick repeated, leaning his full weight on his cane, his cheek twitching nervously beneath her constant stare.

  Eugenia pulled her apron in front of her, hating it and what it represented. "Okay," she answered quickly. "If you're sure it'll be all right."

  Frederick went to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, leaving a wetness sparkling in the dim lighting of the room. "I've thought of this constantly since I last saw you," he said. "You won't be sorry for having made this decision," he added thickly, his eyes twinkling from anticipation. "You get your things together and I shall send a carriage for you by seven o'clock this evening. Be down in front."

  "Yes sir," Eugenia said, swallowing hard, suppressing an urge to cry, so happy that she was having a chance at a different way of life. Something deep inside tugged at her, telling her to be on her guard, but she was able to brush these thoughts aside. Instead she remembered that he was one of the most respected men in Cripple Creek. He owned the Heinmarch Opera House. She watched his shadow fill the space in the hallway and disappear down the staircase.

  Eugenia glanced quickly at a clock on the nightstand next to her bed. She had only one hour and then she could leave this place… forever. She wasn't even going to say good-bye to Hannah. She had grown to almost hate her. She had known for some time now that Hannah only showed the sweet side of her nature when she wanted something of her. Other than that, she completely ignored Eugenia.

  Going to the window once again, Eugenia watched the early September sun begin to disappear behind the highest peak of Mount Pisgah. She had to wonder if her parents and sister were watching this same sunset. But for some strange reason, for the first time since she had left her parents' homestead, she didn't have a deep feeling of longing for her home and family. She knew that her luck had just changed. She was to be taken care of by a man—but not as his wife. She could only think of him treating her as a daughter.

  Eugenia's eyes began to follow a carriage below her. It was carrying a bulk of a man away from her. She smiled and pulled her travel bag from beneath her bed and began to fill it once again—maybe for the last time. At least until she found Drew. But no, when Drew heard that she was living with such a well-known person, he would seek her out.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Having lost her shawl in the confusion of her first day in Cripple Creek, Eugenia stood shivering, grasping onto her filled travel bag. Her eyes traveled up and down the darkness of Bennett Avenue, watching men on their horses, and shadows' settling on the street around them. She continued to watch through the darkness for a carriage to pull up in front of her. Frederick Heinmarch had said to wait in front of the hotel and that he would send a carriage at seven o'clock. So where was it? She couldn't control the trembling of her hands. Even her teeth were chattering in the evening breeze.

  The lights from the buildings on all sides of her blinked back at her. The rush of the people on the sidewalk hadn't seemed to subside this night. Both men and women were still busying along the sidewalks, stopping, gaping into the store windows. Some went in, then came out with bags filling the crooks of their arms. There seemed to be an air of cheerfulness, as though it was a special night somehow. Eugenia smiled, knowing that it was a special night for her. She had been paid special attention by what seemed to be a special person in this thriving town. She only hoped she could be worthy of this special honor.

  Peering down the street once again, her heart seemed to stop when she saw a black carriage working its way toward her. The air was filled with the clattering of hoofs from a single roan pulling the carriage. When it pulled up in front of her, Eugenia stood waiting. She had to be sure it was the right carriage. She eyed the driver anxiously, waiting, silently waiting.

  "Are you Eugenia Marie Scott?" the driver asked, removing a tall hat from his head, cradling it in his arms. Eugenia laughed to herself at the appearance of the hat. The hat's top looked like a stovepipe. The first of its kind that she had ever seen.

  The man continued to sit straightbacked in his solid-black attire, eyeing Eugenia with an impatient frown.

  Sensing this, Eugenia hurriedly answered, "Yes, sir. I be Eugenia Marie Scott."

  "Mr. Heinmarch is requesting your presence at The Towers tonight, ma'am," this man said in a monotone voice. "Do you need assistance in boarding the carriage?"

  Lifting her skirt, Eugenia climbed in. "No, sir," she answered, settling herself onto the softness of the cushions beneath her. One flick of the wrist from this gentleman, landing a whip's leather against the back of the horse, and Eugenia found herself being pulled in grand style along Bennett Avenue. Her heart pounded with anticipation, knowing that she had to be a true picture of a lady as she sat in such a carriage.

  The carriage swung around cable cars, other carriages, and men on horseback. Then a large white house loomed before Eugenia with so many lights on inside it it appeared to be alive. It was then that she remembered having seen this white house, and how she had marveled at it. Could it be that this was the house called The Towers? Was this truly where Frederick Heinmarch lived? Was this truly where she was going to live? No. She had to be wrong. It was all too marvelous. Too much of a dream come true—too soon. Things like this just didn't happen. Then her eyes shot upward, seeing the many towers on the different angles of the roof. It was the only house in town that she had seen towers on. It had to be the one. That's surely how this particular house had acquired the name of The Towers.

  Hardly able to suppress the anxiety building up inside her, Eugenia scooted more to the edge of the seat, breathless when the carriage pulled around a circle drive and stopped in front of a wide porch that lined the entire mansion. One glance toward the double doors of the house and she could see him standing there; Frederick Heinmarch, almost filling out the space that both doors made. With a pounding heart, she climbed from the carriage and
made her way up the front steps. Her eyes darted all around her, capturing the greatness of it all.

  "So you did come," Frederick said, moving toward her. He took one of her hands in his and bowed to kiss it. Not having had this ever happen before, Eugenia covered her mouth with her other hand, completely awe struck.

  "Come inside, my dear," Frederick then said, motioning with his hand toward the opened doors.

  Eugenia picked up her full skirt and walked beside him. When she entered, her mouth dropped open. She had had many dreams of beautiful houses before, having read about them so often in books. But what lay before her eyes now was unbelievably, breathtakingly beautiful. In one quick sweep, her eyes had captured it all. The spaciousness of it. Why, she even knew that her parents' house could be fit into it, it was so large.

  Her eyes continued to move around her. A fire was blazing in an enormous fireplace that covered a portion of an end wall. The drapes hanging at the many windows were of a pale blue satin to match the satin-covered highback chairs and sofas clustered about the room. There were several crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, reflecting like jewels onto wooden floors that were gleaming beneath them. Then one thing in particular caught her eye. It was a piano. Actually, a square piano, with heavy legs and sides, richly carved in rosewood. Frederick's gaze followed hers. He walked to it and pressed a key, making a sound similar to a meadowlark's call, clear and fine, filling the room and making Eugenia's heart warm.

  "Do you like it?" Frederick asked, running one of his pudgy hands over the designs carved on the sides.

  "It's too beautiful," Eugenia sighed, putting her hands to her cheeks. She knew that she was flushed. But she didn't care. Her life was suddenly being filled with more than she could ever have imagined.

 

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