Immortal Beauty (The Immortals)

by Thomas McDermott

  “I’m afraid I’m becoming eccentric!” she half whispered to herself and then laughed. First she is drawn into the night by something she cannot define and now she found herself retreating because of some threat she cannot see. Perhaps it was her intuition. She knew that something was coming but she could not name it. It was the most helpless of feelings and she fought the sense of terror it brought to her breast.

  “Madame!” A shrill voice cried into the night. “Madame, what are you doing here?” She looked down at her feet. They were covered in the daintiest slippers of light pink with little oriental flowers embroidered in burgundy, or was it black? “Madame! Please come inside! You will catch your death on a night like this.” She suddenly felt very confused. Was she still Sasha or was she someone else? The moon was bright and the cold light was streaming though the branches making dappled pools of blue and green and gray appear randomly throughout the place. It was breathtaking and frightening at the same time. The voice roused her out of her contemplation and now the voice was becoming louder and more urgent.

  Madame! If you do not come in right now I am going to call for the doctor! I must say you are behaving like a mad woman. If I did not know better…” The voice trailed off. Sasha began to remember. She turned around and gasped in wonder. Just behind her was the grandest of houses. There was a large terrace running the length of the house. The building was three stories high and built most peculiarly right into the side of a hill. It was made of Caen stone with tall windows running from floor to ceiling throughout the façade.

  “This is my house.” She whispered, afraid of appearing any more mad than she already did. On the terrace she saw an elderly woman with shock white hair gaping at her. The woman had obviously been sleeping as she was dressed in a heavy robe and had nothing on her feet. Her hair was sticking up all over the place giving the woman the appearance of a specter from beyond. Sasha’s memory was returning slowly as the dream progressed, for this had to be a dream! She was no longer Sasha but Helene Corbet the owner of the fabulous chateau. She was the woman of the dream and she stepped into the role and allowed the dream to become her reality.

  “Honorine! Really you must go back to bed and stop all this nonsense. This is my house and my garden and if I feel like taking in some fresh air then it is no one’s business but my own!” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. She treated the whole affair lightly hoping that her maid would do the same.

  “Honestly Madame I must insist that you put on a cloak or a fur perhaps to shield your delicate nature from the cold. I brought one out of your wardrobe when I saw you standing out here in the moonlight. At first I was full of fright thinking you were a ghost but then I realized it was you. My very own mistress wandering around in this air with nothing on but a night dress!” The woman waddled toward Helene carrying the heavy cloak in her hands. It was the darkest of velvet and the sight of it warmed Sasha’s heart. She suddenly missed her mother and hoped that she was here somewhere inside the mysterious chateau on the side of the hill.

  “Honorine! Stay where you are, your feet are bare! I will come to you.” She glanced once more into the trees. Was there someone out there waiting for her? Did she have a meeting with someone; a lover perhaps? Had she arranged a secret rendezvous in the middle of the night? If only she could remember what she was looking for out there. If it was to meet someone if must be a secret and she immediately felt the need to usher Honorine back into the house so there would be no witness. She smiled begrudgingly at the old woman who obviously cared so much for her and she allowed the woman to place the cloak securely around her shoulders, even letting her tie the satin ribbons that pulled it together. Well, at least she was warmer now and her smile became truly genuine.

  “Thank you my dear. Now you can go back to your room and catch up on all the sleep that you have been missing lately.” She took the pale wrinkled hand into her own and held it in a gesture of intimacy and kissed the sweet woman on both cheeks. She smiled again at the wild figure of Honorine at night. She would have frightened anyone who did not know her. She hurried the maid inside and returned once more to the grand park which lay before her sliding gently all the way down to the Seine. She followed one of the immaculate paths all bordered with irises and roses and even at night the fragrance could be overwhelming. She moved slowly and regally away from the chateau toward the sounds of the river. Now she was in the midst of the small forest of chestnut trees and found herself afraid. These were dangerous days as the poor were growing poorer and the rich were becoming richer and more indifferent to the needs of the masses. The government increased the taxes each year for some endless war campaign that never seemed to cease. Paris was devoid of young men as they were all off fighting for France. There was unease about the Austrian princess and no one could say a kind word about her with the rumors of her spending and gambling and even hints of a lesbian lover! It seemed as if she were throwing her riches in the faces of the starving people and laughing the whole time traveling from one party to the next. Times were changing and Helene was suddenly grateful that she never accepted any invitations to court. Of course she simply declined because she found the world of Versailles and the intrigues of the court bored her beyond imagining. She was born with a title and money and never once thought of it as anything other than the way it has always been. Now she was not so sure. She gathered from her servants the horrors of the people. Their suffering was growing daily and Helene could no longer turn a blind eye. She had to be careful though as her friends and relations had no interest in changing the way of life that gave them the upper hand. The were happy with the system that took a small part of the population and made them entitled while most of the people had no rights at all and these days no bread which only caused more unrest. Her friends would never relinquish their titles or property to help the common man. Yet in America the common man had overthrown the queen of England and now in Paris there was so much talk of revolution that she felt she could not stand another mention of such things. It filled her with terror. Even now it was impossible for her to go shopping in the city for the mobs had become unstable and violent. One of her maids was accosted after descending from her mistress’ carriage because it was obviously the carriage of a rich person. Her maid escaped relatively unharmed but her description of the event so horrified Helene that she decided not to try to gain access into Paris until all this trouble was over. The ambassador Benjamin Franklin was considered a hero and was worshipped by the French. Even the court at Versailles granted him audience of His Majesty. This was surely not a good idea. His very presence sparked the flame of unrest into a wildfire that threatened all of Europe. He was living proof that the common man could rise up from the ground and aspire to better things. These were all very dangerous things in and of themselves and combined they scared Helene in a way that she had never been frightened before. She found herself being drawn from her idle and luxurious life into a battle that she wanted no part of. All her life she was accustomed to an easy existence and now she was helpless against the tide that was threatening to sweep over the entire country.

  “Madame Corbet!” A loud whisper came from the trees to her left. Her heart leapt out convulsively and grabbed her chest to still the beating. Slowly from behind one of the ancient arbors appeared a young man certainly no older than herself. He was so obviously handsome. She smiled gracefully and knew instantly that he was her lover.

  “Etienne! You will be the death of me! How dare you frighten me so?” She could not stop the smile from spreading across her face. She pretended to be upset but he knew her far better than that. The man with dark blonde hair pulled in a low ponytail so very like the American Revolutionaries and even in the darkness his light gray eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “Your beauty will be the death of me my love.” He grabbed one of her hands and raised it to his generous lips.

  “Ah…you have such a way with words my darling. But honestly do we have to meet like this in the darkness like crimin
als? It’s absurd!” She tried to sound hurt. His arms reached out for her shoulders and he stared into her eyes causing her to weaken. My god he was beautiful, she thought…or was it Sasha now?

  “You know we have to be careful these days Helene.” He acted as if he were scolding a petulant child. “Everywhere we turn there are spies. Every salon is brimming with them. You cannot be too careful. One wrong word and the King could strip away our titles and sell them to some commoner. It happened only last week to Charles. Now he has nothing. Last month he was the toast of Paris and now he is fleeing France in fear for his life. I’m afraid things are only going to get worse.” His hands moved down her arms until his fingers entwined with her own. She suddenly felt calm and unafraid. Slowly he raised one of her hands to his lips and began to kiss her fingers, then her wrist. She began to yield to him and started to forget where they were.

  “Etienne. Not here!” She pulled her hands away and returned them to the warmth of the cloak. “We should go into the pavilion. No one will see us there….come.” She pulled his arm playfully and teased him until they were outside a small pavilion in the heart of the garden. It was completely round and very charming. Helene loved it the minute the architect had shown her the design and had to have it for herself in the very heart of her beloved park. Hidden by the trees it was truly her retreat. This was her secret place and it was the one place on Earth where she allowed herself to be herself completely and absolutely without any of the pretense or posturing that consumed most of her social life. It was her favorite place too because it was here that she and Etienne existed without the troubles of the world from intruding. He grabbed her and kissed her passionately for a moment or two before they entered their tiny little paradise. Under the moonlight they were perfect and complete, unaware of the storm that was about to descend upon them. The trees shivered in the wind whispering nothing to the heavy night. Quietly Helene opened the door and they entered it almost reverently as if they were a little timid of what lay before them. She led him in with a smile and he laughed nervously taking one last look at the park around him. Satisfied that they were alone he followed her in.

  Sasha squinted her eyes against the invading light. It was morning. She glanced at her clock to see that she had overslept. No time for a bath which was not such a big deal overseas. She jumped out of bed quickly and filled her sink with hot water. A basin bath is what her mother used to call it. So many reminders of her mother lay like little landmines waiting to explode all over her heart in each and every day. She learned very quickly that you never get over the loss of a loved one, you simply change your life. Her mother was more real to her now that she was gone and she realized like all people eventually do that she never had enough time until it was too late. It was only after she died that Sasha found herself closer to her mom than she had ever been in life. She looked up into the mirror her hazel eyes staring back at her and suddenly she remembered her dream. It was so fantastic and so rich in detail, far better than the book she had been reading. The beautiful house and the amazing gardens and even her dream lover had a quality to him that made him seem as real as anyone else in her life. It seemed more like a memory than a dream. She laughed at her reflection. It amused her that people who believed in reincarnation were always somebody rich and famous. They were never Nefertiti’s handmaiden, they were Nefertiti herself. In her dream she had been rich and titled. What a fantasy! But it was a lovely fantasy and it reminded her of the dreams she had as a little girl when Paris was so far away. She quickly dressed and peered outside to see what kind of coat would be appropriate. It was cloudy and she placed her hand against the glass to feel how cold it would be. Not too bad she decided and opted for a bright blue raincoat as it was certain to rain at some point during the day. Pulling her hair into a band she grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

  “Bonjour!” Her neighbor across the hall smiled and waved at her. He was old and kind and Sasha adored him.

  “Bonjour Charles!! Je suis plus tard! A biento!” She blew him a little kiss which he pretended to catch and hold onto his chest. He watched her with an envious glance as she raced down the wooden stairs. In the courtyard she finished fastening her buttons and reached the long corridor that led into the street. In one moment she was caught up with the tide of people that swept her up and carried her into the Metro at Invilades. She became one of the many nameless army that marched to the beat of economy and prosperity. She looked around at all the people and smiled. It was a nice feeling to be swallowed up in the hustle of city life. It gave her the feeling that she belonged and as her feet touched the escalator leading down into the gaping mouth of the entrance the first droplets of rain began to fall and she soon forgot her dream of the night before in the face of the chaos which is Paris life.

  TAYLOR

  Taylor handed the woman his passport. She did not even pretend to smile as she was obviously not too fond of Americans. She handed it back to him with an expression of complete indifference that only the French can pull off exquisitely. Welcome to France! Thank God he was only here a week. Once he was finished with business he would do a little sightseeing and then back home to D.C. He wasn’t too thrilled with this last minute assignment and he had no interest in Celgen Laboratories whatsoever but his colleague had backed out at the last minute and he owed her a huge favor. Hell, she went to Iraq for him to cover a story that turned out to be a nightmare. He had to interview the mysteriously elusive Celine D’Aumont, the president of Celgen Corporation and he had to have the article finished by Friday. As it was only Monday he began to feel that this might not be so bad after all. How long does it take to interview the president of a cosmetics company? A little lipstick and a nice human interest piece in how she climbed from her humble beginnings to become the leader in the anti-aging revolution. Humans still had to grow old and die, but dammit if they are ever going to let it show! He was disgusted that billions of dollars are pumped into the anti-aging business globally and the much of the world was still suffering and struggling for mere survival and human rights. How much good would all that vain money do if it were used to better the human plight rather than try to look twenty years old forever? He shook his head to clear himself of the work part of this trip and tried to focus on the fact that he had a week in Paris and an hour interview to do. Yes, things were absolutely looking up. Now getting a taxi was going to be fun as he knew not one word of French. He was going to be one of those insufferable tourists, he just knew it. He didn’t care that much either way. Being a journalist he was used to people hating him. It was just part of the job. He caught a glimpse of himself against the glass and realized he looked as tired as all of his fellow passengers from the flight. His pale skin was unusually white and even in the dim reflection he could see the dark circles under his eyes. What he needed was a solid eight hours of sleep. Once he got to the hotel he would wash the smell of travel off and hit the bed until he felt like rising. The interview wasn’t until Wednesday so he could ease into Paris life. He was still young and at thirty one years old and had impressive regenerative powers that he attributed to hearty DNA. Maybe it was just a part of the job too because there were many jobs he took where sleep did not come for three or four days in a row just to get the story. Nothing seemed unusual or bizarre to him anymore. The longer he was in the business the less things could shock him and lately he found that not many things could stir emotion in him anymore. He was thinking all of these things as he saw his suitcase drop mercilessly onto the metal conveyer belt. These days all the luggage was black so he bought the brightest and most obnoxious orange colored case to distinguish it from all the others. He hoisted the case up and was off as he followed the line of people pass through the last bastion of Customs and was suddenly thrust into the midst of noise and confusion. There were people standing in front of the doors with signs of companies and people’s names and was astonished to see a young woman with very large sunglasses and a black suit holding a card which read:

  Taylor
Hamilton-Celgen Labs

  He smiled to himself. His colleague didn’t tell him this was a first class assignment. He had expected cold attitude all the way and here they were offering him a lift. He had to admit that he was impressed. He sauntered toward the severe looking woman was was probably very pretty and he smiled at her. She glanced in his direction without any display of recognition or emotion.

  “I’m Taylor Hamilton miss, or should I say mademoiselle?” He laughed at his own pathetic attempt to be charming. He was too exhausted to try to flirt with her and it was now painfully obvious. Finally her façade broke and she smiled briefly before speaking in perfect English.

  “Please follow me. I have the limousine waiting for you. Victor will carry your bag.” Her voice was heady and warm. It wrapped around him in the most comforting manner. He felt as if it were one of the loveliest voices he had heard in a long time. He caught a scent of perfume which was heavy as well like musk and lavender. A short man stood behind her and reached for Taylor’s hideous orange bag. He let go of the handle as Victor hoisted if over his fat shoulder and followed the woman through the crowds.