"I had this shipped from Germany," Frederick said, going to her. He pulled her hands from her face and clasped them with his.
Eugenia's smile faded when she felt the dampness of his hands. In their only two meetings she had noticed that he appeared to always be perspiring. It was most unpleasant to her. She hardly ever perspired. Only on her forehead, when she had been working in the fields. Ah, that seemed so long ago to her now. Almost as though it had never happened—even though it had been her life for so long.
"Your house is so lovely," she said, managing to get her hands free. She began to walk around the room, touching the softness of the upholstered furniture and running fingers over the smoothness of the rosewood tables placed beside each of these chairs and sofas. They each shone so brilliantly, she could almost see her reflection looking back at her.
"How many rooms do you have?" she asked, spying a spiral staircase in the far end of the room.
Frederick followed behind her, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, and working his cane along in front of him with each step taken. "The Towers houses twenty-six rooms," he answered. "Two stories of living quarters, then one housing the towers."
The towers. Eugenia was anxious to see what they looked like inside. From outside they looked so exotic; as though they had many secret tales to disclose. "Would you show me the tower rooms?" she hurriedly asked.
Frederick took her travel bag from her. "I don't believe so, Eugenia," he said glumly. "No one wanders up there. There's not much there to see."
Eugenia eyed him questionably, disappointed. Then her eyes widened as she watched Frederick open her bag and begin to pull the garments out, one at a time. She was left speechless when she watched him walk to the fireplace and begin to toss her belongings into the flames. Then when he pulled her Papa's gift of combs from the bag, she rushed to him and grabbed them from out of his hands. "What are you doin?" she asked frantically, her eyes watching her travel dress being consumed by the hungry flames.
"I plan to clothe you in silks and satins," he said, tossing another of her cotton dresses into the flames. "You will have no need of these drab clothes any longer."
Eugenia clasped onto the combs more fiercely. She would never part with them. Never. "But why didn't you ask me first? How can you take it upon yourself to destroy my own personal belongings?"
He went to her side and touched her gently on the cheek, then ran a hand upward, releasing the tight bun of hair that she had circled up on her head. "And your hair. We mustn't see it in pigtails or a tight bun any longer. One is for children, and the other is for old maids," he said, his cheeks growing rosy. Eugenia didn't know if it was from the heat of the fire—or his desire to make her do as he pleased. She was beginning to grow doubtful about the predicament that she found herself in. Was he another person to take advantage of her? Her naivete had managed to get her into nothing but trouble since she had made that first turn around the mountain's base.
"And I don't want to see it hanging loosely from around your shoulders either," he continued. "Clarissa will attend to your personal attire and pamperings."
Eugenia looked around her… not yet having seen anyone but Frederick. "Clarissa?" she asked, flipping some stray strands of hair from around her face.
"Yes, Clarissa," he said, walking to where a fluffy tassel hung on a green velvet pulley rope. He gave it a yank and then sat himself in a chair in front of the fireplace. "She will be your personal maid," he added. "You'll like her. She'll make your stay more pleasant. She'll do anything to please you."
A slight shuffling of feet drew Eugenia's attention away from Frederick.
"Did you ring, Frederick?" a slight young woman asked, walking on into the room.
"Clarissa, we have a friend to honor us with her presence," he said thickly, his eyes gleaming as he saw Clarissa and Eugenia slowly assessing one another. "Will you please take her to the room next to mine?"
Eugenia swung around to face him. "Next… to yours?" she stammered.
Frederick threw his head back and laughed, almost making the chandeliers rattle, his laughter was so booming. "No need to worry yourself," he said. "We don't have adjoining doors. I just thought you might feel more comfortable being close to me. The many rooms of my house have a way of swallowing one up. You won't be so alone this way."
"Oh. I see," Eugenia said.
Frederick rose and went to a closet, pulling a hat from a shelf. It was the same hat as the driver of the carriage wore, like a stovepipe. It made Frederick look almost comical when he placed it on his head, not fitting in at all well with his wide stomach and squatty legs. Then she watched as he slipped on white gloves.
"I must leave for now," he said. "I have to check to see how things are going at the opera house. They're performing the Der Freischutz tonight."
Eugenia's eyebrows tilted. "What does that mean?" she asked.
Frederick's laughter boomed once again. "It's a romantic German musical drama, my dear. The title means 'one who uses magic bullets.' One day I'll explain in detail about the whole meaning."
Eugenia smiled awkwardly, realizing what a complex man she was in the company of.
"You go ahead and retire when you please, Eugenia," he said further, tapping his walking cane nervously against the wooden floor. "I'll be gone for some time. You'll be sure to be comfortable in the room that I have chosen for you."
"Yes, sir," she said softly.
Frederick smiled, making his cheeks full out even more. "You are to call me Frederick, Eugenia. Please remember that."
"Yes, Frederick," she answered, then watched his bulky figure walk from the room. She listened intently as she heard the horse's hoofs clattering away, then felt the silence around her. She turned remembering Clarissa, who was standing, waiting.
"Are you ready to go to your room, Eugenia?" Clarissa asked, reaching for Eugenia's hand.
"I reckon I be," Eugenia answered, letting herself be guided up the winding staircase. It didn't even have carpet on its steps. The wood shone back at her, reminding her of sorghum molasses. Then her eyes went to Clarissa, who had stepped on ahead of her. Eugenia didn't know if Clarissa was Negro or white. Her skin was a much darker brown than Eugenia's own, but she did not have the black skin of most Negroes. It was a softer, lighter brown. Her facial features were delicate, and her nose was small and tilted somewhat at the end over lips that showed only the slightest fullness. Eugenia knew her own lips were full, but not as much as Clarissa's. And Clarissa's hair was short and fluffed in tight black ringlets circling her face. Its stiffness resembled that of a Negro's. But yet her skin was so much lighter. Eugenia only had to wonder.
Clarissa's dress fell around her ankles in stiffness, rustling noisily with each step taken. Eugenia didn't like the dress. It was too cold appearing, solid black except for a crisp white collar hugging Clarissa's neck.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Eugenia discovered that upstairs was as grand as the lower floor. Clusters of small replicas of chandeliers lighted the length of the long hallway, settling on gilded frames on the side walls, picturing men and women in stiff poses. And there were many doors. Eugenia had to wonder why any one man would need so large a house, even though he was awfully large himself. It had appeared vast on the outside at her first glance that second day she had been in Cripple Creek, but now it seemed even more so as she was guided beside the pictures. She was glad when Clarissa came to a door and opened it, stepping back so Eugenia could enter.
One step inward and Eugenia was thrust into another world of surprises. It wasn't only a bedroom, but a room filled with plush chairs and a sofa placed around another fireplace. The flames from the fire were outlined in shadows dancing on the walls and upholstered furnishings. The carpet she was now standing on looked as though it was velvet, as were the orchid velveteen draperies hanging at three windows.
She sighed and began to make her way around the room, feeling as though she was walking on a cloud, the carpet beneath her feet was so pl
ush. "If my Mama could only see this," she said, remembering the handmade furniture that her Mama had only seen. "But where is the bed?" she questioned, swinging around to eye Clarissa.
"In the adjoining room," Clarissa said, walking away from her, opening another door. "In here, Eugenia," she added, disappearing through the door.
Eugenia hurried along, anxious to see what else was awaiting her. It had to be grand… as was everything else she had been shown. When she entered the adjoining room, her heart skipped a few beats. This bed was breathtaking… so huge, with a pale orchid velveteen canopy draped down over it, and a rosewood headboard with curving lines and rich, ornamental designs.
"Is this really where I'll be sleepin?" Eugenia gasped, going to the bed, touching it, pressing downward, marveling at its softness.
Clarissa laughed softly, going to the bed, turning back its richly embroidered bedspread. She fluffed two highly stuffed pillows. "Yes, ma'am," she said, turning back to face Eugenia. "And would you like to see the wardrobe that Frederick has ordered for you?"
"A wardrobe, especially for me?"
Clarissa went to another door and opened it. Her fingers began to work through the dresses, then pulled one out and carried it to Eugenia. "This is my favorite one," she said, running her fingers down the smoothness of the green satin.
"That dress is mine to wear?" Eugenia gasped further, wanting to touch it so badly, but yet drawing back. All of this was beginning to be too much. It was all happening too fast for her. And how would Frederick have known her dress size and her deep desire to own such a dress? A dress in satin, a dress green in color. Questions began to fill her mind with doubts. She eyed Clarissa closely, only finding a gentle smile, revealing even, smooth white teeth.
"I just don't understand," Eugenia mumbled, going to a chair to slouch down into it. "Why is Frederick doing all these things for me? Why?"
Clarissa placed the gown across the bed and went to Eugenia. She bent down in front of her and began to run her fingers through Eugenia's hair. "Frederick has a big heart, Eugenia," she said. "He confided in me about your plight. About how hard Hannah was working you at the hotel. He wanted to get you away from all of that. He saw in you a potential for greater things."
"Greater things?" Eugenia said softly.
Clarissa laughed. "You'll see. Later."
Remembering that Frederick had said that he lived alone made Eugenia suddenly wonder why he hadn't mentioned Clarissa. She didn't appear to be what a servant or maid should be. She spoke as eloquently as Frederick. As though she had been trained to do so… by experts.
"But you… ?" Eugenia mumbled, frowning.
Clarissa laughed lightly again, then settled herself in a chair next to Eugenia. "Myself?" she said, clasping her hands on her lap in front of her. "I came from Germany with Frederick. Many years ago."
"But he said that he lived alone," Eugenia stammered.
"He meant that he had no close family sharing this mansion with him. I am in no way related. I'm his faithful servant. Now. And ever. I would do anything for him. He rescued me from a life that was more like death. So many years ago."
"Oh, I see," Eugenia said, relaxing more, letting her shoulders droop. "But, if you're both from Germany, why don't you have more of an accent? You sound… so… so American."
Clarissa laughed once again, tilting her head sideways. Eugenia was beginning to think her even beautiful, with her dark eyes always appearing to be amused about something, as though they were laughing. "Frederick enrolled us both in school as soon as we arrived in America," Clarissa said. "We both were taught English by a professor while living in New York."
"Oh, I see," Eugenia said once again, at a loss for words.
"And don't be surprised if Frederick enrolls you in night classes," Clarissa said. "Your English is absolutely dreadful."
"I never had proper schoolin'," Eugenia said, lowering her eyes. "My Papa taught me how to read and how to count. That's 'bout all."
Clarissa rose, walking back toward the closet, and let her fingers work their way through the many clothes once again, pulling from them a white chemise. She held it up for Eugenia to stare upon. "This will be your attire for this evening," Clarissa said, stretching it out across the bed, then hanging the green satin dress back inside the closet.
Eugenia rose and went to the chemise. She let her fingers run over its softness with the delicate white lace trimming the front. "It's so beautiful," she sighed.
"We must get you into the bath first," Clarissa said, opening another door. "I'll begin to run the water while you undress. Would you like my assistance with your hair or your bath?" she added, turning back in Eugenia's direction.
Eugenia blushed. "No, ma'am," she answered. "I can take care of it all by myself."
"Well, then. Hurry along," Clarissa said, stepping away from Eugenia.
When Eugenia heard water begin to splash, she began to unbutton her dress, hoping Clarissa would disappear before she disrobed completely. She would never grow accustomed to another woman seeing her nude. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling somehow, remembering Madam Valerie, and how she had abused her body. She didn't want to give any other woman that opportunity.
"I'll leave you to your bath now," Clarissa said, picking up the dress Eugenia had let fall to the floor around her ankles. "I'll discard this appropriately," she said further, hurrying on out the door.
Eugenia pulled her petticoat over her head, then sat down on a chair and pulled her boots from her feet. It felt good, getting her toes free once again. And even more so to curl the carpet between her toes.
Smiling lazily, she walked to the bathroom and stopped in further wonder. The room was one of mirrors, reflecting her image back at her from many angles. Then her eyes settled on the tub. It was sunken into the floor, filled with bubbles, almost to its handles of gold. The fragrance of jasmine urged her onward, making her step downward into a heavenly warmth. She slithered on down until her body was relishing in the softness and warmth. She shut her eyes, letting her hair capture some of this, feeling as though she was floating in another world. She splashed some suds on her face, laughing. She hadn't had to come far to feel like a lady. When she got through with herself this evening she would be one for sure.
* * *
Chapter Eight
The snows had returned to Mount Pisgah. Eugenia looked out her bedroom window at the vast whiteness. She knew that she couldn't return to her parents' homestead until next June or July, even if she wanted to. And this being the first part of December, it made a feeling of fright surge through her. The past two months at Frederick's house had been times spent in sheer heaven, but yet, she didn't like feeling as though she was imprisoned in the town of Cripple Creek.
Turning, she walked gracefully across the room and stood before the full-length mirror of her vanity. Her transformation to a lady was now complete. Her eyes even seemed to be less far apart with her loss of weight and her new hairdo. Her fingers went to the puffed pompadour crowning her head, touching the soft folds of its curls. And she had even grown to accept the straight bangs that Clarissa's fingers had so deftly cut and shaped for her. Then her eyes settled on the pale green satin dress and how its smoothness accentuated her trim waistline. She straightened her back, admiring how the low cut bodice showed off her magnificent bosom. With trembling fingers, she touched the curves, having so longed for a man's touch. How many nights she had dreamed of being with Drew, stretched out beneath the stars, his lips teasing her erect nipples as his hands created small fires on her skin. She now doubted if she would ever see him again. It had been too long. And Frederick had begun to make her stay closer to the house since she had become a picture of beauty… and desire. But she was determined that she was going to get out this day, if she had to sneak out the back door. There was no way Clarissa was going to stop her as she had done in the past weeks. No! Eugenia had made her mind up. She was going to take a walk, experience the crispness of the air, watch the people shop. Christm
as was only a few weeks away. Pangs of loneliness for her family surged through her, knowing that this was to be the first Christmas away from them. She wasn't even sure if she could bear it. But she knew that she didn't have any choice.
Pulling her full skirt upward, she marveled at the cambric petticoat trimmed in Valenciennes Lace. Until Frederick, she hadn't known such beautiful petticoats even existed. She smiled, knowing that being able to dress in such grand style was going to lessen her feelings of loneliness. And she knew that Frederick would shower her with many more such dresses, helping her to forget Drew, her family, and anything else. Yes, this was what she had dreamed and longed for, for so many years. And now that she had it, she knew that she couldn't live any other way. But yet, there was this yearning to be with a man, have a man who didn't only admire what she wore, but also her, as a person. But she had to brush such thoughts aside. Although Frederick hadn't approached her in any way sexually, she knew that she was possessed by him, and what he could give her.
With sweeping gracefulness, Eugenia almost floated down the spiral staircase, not pausing before she entered the library. As always, the amount of books lining the walls seemed to draw the breath from her. How she had always loved to read. Back at her parents' homestead, she had loved burrowing through box after box of books that her father had brought with him on his long voyage from Nova Scotia. After he taught her to read, her need for learning had never lessened.
"Ah, so you've decided to share your company with me this afternoon," she heard Frederick say from behind her.
She turned and found him slouched down deeply, almost hidden in a maroon velvet high-backed chair, with his legs stretched outward onto a hassock before a blazing fire. Eugenia had never ceased to be amazed by the amount of fireplaces in one house. There seemed to be one in every room. But the house was so large and drafty, she welcomed the presence of a constant feeling of warmth from the fireplaces. She lifted her skirts, the silk of her petticoat rustling noisily, and walked toward Frederick. She hadn't grown to be fond of him in any respect. He still always resembled a funeral director with his dark suits and slicked down black hair. But she had fast learned the game of "pretend." To make him happy was to be happy herself, but only because of what he could buy for her. She had at one time thought she might learn to feel like a daughter, but this hadn't happened. Even though he showered her with earthly possessions, he hadn't treated her like a daughter. In fact, puzzling to her, he hadn't treated her in any one way. It was as though he just had her around to look at her. Or maybe to say that she was his. But nothing else. Eugenia had pushed the word "why" from her vocabulary, not wanting to find out the true reasons. She had decided to just enjoy it, while she had it. She went before the fire and sank down into a fluffed-up cushion, spreading her skirts around her like petals on a daisy.
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