by Linda Swain
Struggling to sit upright, Anton leaned against his father’s hand. He was so very tired, but he wanted to hear more of this marvelous party of which his Maman was speaking. “Will we have a party, Papa? Will we have a party like Maman says?”
Heaving a deep sigh, Ashton gazed at his wife, knowing he had lost the battle. “Yes, bien-aimé. As Maman says, we will arrange this small – party. But you must rest and do everything that you are asked to do in the days to come. You must be strong and well, which means you should be made ready for bed right now.”
Kat’s own childhood memories came flooding back as she remembered the excitement of sharing her costume with her parents. “Oh, please, let him stay up a bit longer! I do so want him to see his costume.”
Not quite understanding her request, Ash simply nodded his head, a decidedly sensual look coming in his eyes. “Very well, I am retiring to our room. Just make certain that Megan puts Anton to bed. I forbid you to lift him.”
As if on cue, Megan bustled in, her arms full of freshly laundered linens and pajamas. “Bedtime, mon petit,” she announced while Kat revealed one of the little costumes she had tailored to fit Anton’s frame. Startled, Megan stared at the torn and faded clothing that Kat placed on Anton’s bed.
“Qu’est-ce c’est?” she asked, pointing to the jumble of cloth. The smile on Kat’s face brought light into the older woman’s heart. She is happy and she has brought so much light and joy into this house. She was certain that Ash had not made use of that white powder to which Christine had introduced him, so many years ago, in quite a long time.
“That is my costume,” Anton announced proudly. “Maman had it made just for me and the party that we are going to have.”
“A party!” A smile of delight creased the older woman’s face as she looked into the boy’s shining eyes. “Well, I would hope that this party is not tonight, for you would have to miss it while you sleep.” After the linens had been placed on the bed, she expertly maneuvered the boy from the chair to his bed, quickly changing him into his bedclothes.
Deftly, Kat snagged the pajama bottoms, holding them against the trousers she had ordered. Good, she thought, they’ll fit perfectly. He’s getting stronger . . . he even looks healthier. I’m being a good mother to him, just as I will be for the little one I’m carrying inside me. Leaning over she placed a goodnight kiss on the face of a sleepy boy, knowing that Megan would soon follow, full of questions.
Waiting in the hall, Kat could already picture the grand house decorated for the coming holidays. And this is just the first of many, she thought happily.
The slight bend of her shadow, along with the sound of a door shutting, announced Megan’s arrival in the hall. “So,” she said archly into Kat’s smile, “where did this idea come from?”
“He’s so isolated,” Kat replied softly. “He is always with adults . . . It’s time that he was with children his own age. And this party is a wonderful way for him to see that he is no different from other children. It’s simply a matter of decorations and games – perhaps a ghost story or two. This household is entirely too serious and needs to become accustomed to the sound of children.” Pausing, she touched her abdomen. “After all, this little one isn’t going to stay inside me forever.”
Nodding, Megan couldn’t help placing a gentle hand on Kat’s abdomen, feeling the stirring under her fingers. “Very well, we will speak more of this in the morning. For now, you need sleep, and I’m certain that Ashton must be wondering what is keeping you.”
Laughing at the older woman’s urging, Kat moved slowly down the hall, uncertain of what she would discover when she entered the bedroom. Because of her pregnancy, Ash had been asking if she wouldn’t be more comfortable in the unused suite adjoining theirs. She had shrugged off the suggestion, wondering why he had seemed so surprised. Does he find me less attractive now that my figure isn’t as slender as before? She frowned; it wasn’t as if she could help that. With a sigh, she pushed open the door.
The look on her face when she crossed the threshold was one of utter surprise. In the time she had been with Anton, Ashton seemed to have located every candle that the household possessed. The room was scented with deep, warm vanilla oil, while the last of the summer roses had been gently torn apart, their petals scattered in a teasing line toward their bathing chamber where her bare chested husband waited for her. Moving slowly, Kat paused to stare at a bright display of flowers that should have been far past wilting. Shaking her head, she looked at him with surprise in her large green eyes. “Ash?”
“Oui, ma belle?”
For a moment, she stood helpless in the doorway as she gestured with a trembling hand. “All of this . . . what is this about?”
Quietly, Ash moved to her side, deftly pulling her further into the bathing chamber. “It is about you, ma belle. You have done so much for everyone else – seeing to the running of this household, making certain that Anton gets the attention he needs. You have designed and encouraged his exercise, even making suggestions to the cook in changes in his diet to make certain that it are nutritious. Do you think I have not noticed, ma bien-aimée?” He smiled gently as he ran a slow hand over her heavy breasts. “You have been doing all of this, but nothing has been done for you. So tonight, I will remedy that. Tonight is all for you.”
“But . . .” she protested gently. “I love him – I love you . . . we have a family, something that I’ve dreamed of having. What more do I need?”
“Then do this as a favor to me. Let me show you how much I appreciate you, my Katherine – how very much I love and adore you.” Silencing her further protests with his finger pressed to her lips, he finished undressing her, article by article, draping them over a chair to be collected later by one of the maids. Gently, he helped Kat into the huge porcelain tub, spending a great deal of time massaging oils onto her skin, before washing her long hair and combing it out until it glistened over her shoulders. Wrapping her in towels that were softer than dreams, he carried her carefully to their bed. She had not protested again until now, but when he lifted her, she tried to stop him. “Ash, no . . . I’m too big for you to be carrying me. You’ll hurt yourself!”
He simply snorted in laughter, cradling her head against his chest. As if she were made of feathers, he carried her across the room before gently placing her on their bed. Slipping her into a new gown as soft as gossamer, he stood back, watching as her fingers ran over the soft silk, tracing the delicate stitches and lace. “I take it,” he finally said softly, “that it meets with your approval?”
Words stuck in her throat as tears threatened to spill over her thick lashes until she simply nodded her head.
“I had intended,” he began as he stroked away her tears, “on giving it to you for your lying in – but tonight . . . it was meant for tonight.”
“It’s so lovely . . . and I look like a beached whale,” she laughed through her tears.
“You look like,” he said quietly, “exactly what you are – the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love you, my Katherine. Come, lie in my arms, and let me feel your heartbeat and the stirring of our child within you.”
A brief shadow appeared over the clean lines of her brow, gone before Ashton could see it, but the thought remained. There are times when I hope – I pray – that I’m wrong and that this child is truly yours. No matter what, you will be this child’s father in all the ways that are important. Massaging her belly, she smiled up into his glowing eyes. “I love you, Ashton. I love you more with each passing day.”
* * * *
It was all anyone could do to contain Anton’s excitement as the time of the party drew near, despite the brief disagreement between his parents over the idea of his costume. Kat had thought that the idea of Anton dressing as a little vagabond was amusing: a sentiment not shared by her husband.
“My son is not going to dress like some homeless bum in front of the servants. I thought the idea was to make him seem like every other child, Katherine!” Ash’s
hands flexed as Kat glowered at him. She hadn’t seen Ash’s temper rise like this since the beginning of her pregnancy, and now she wondered what had made him so angry.
Watching as his hands opened and closed into fists, she was prepared to take a stand nonetheless. Let him hit me, she thought fiercely. Just let him lay one hand on me over something as stupid as this. Me and you, kid; we’ll be outta here so fast the door will hit him in the rear.
Unaware of her actions, Kat caressed her abdomen, and perhaps it was that motion which served to remind Ash of the irrationality of his reaction. Taking a deep breath, he sank down on the curve of a loveseat across from her. “Not some poor man’s boy, Katherine,” he pleaded, suddenly looking exhausted. She had slept deeply the night before; when she had woken, he had already been prepared for the day, and she had no idea of how terribly he had slept.
“Ash, he is like every little boy – there is nothing wrong with him – how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a doctor, but just look at him! He’s making strides we couldn’t have even dreamed about.” Though she couldn’t understand its presence, she could see the apprehension in his eyes. “All right,” she sighed. “If it upsets you that much, then let’s . . . compromise.”
For a moment, she gazed at her husband, her fingers lacing through his thick dark hair before she took the scissors from her nearby dresser. Before he could protest, a dark lock of his hair dangled freely over her fingers. “Okay. I’m changing Anton’s costume.”
“It does not look like that from here,” Ashton commented, reaching up carefully to feel the extent of the damage she had wrought with her scissors. “It looks as if you are giving me a haircut.”
“Oh, hush,” she laughed. “It’s not even noticeable, and I need it for a mustache.” Ignoring his suspicious gaze, she gave him a mysterious smile before vanishing down the hall, the lock of hair in her hand. “I’ll join you after lunch and you’ll find out what I’m doing then.”
That had been four hours ago, and he had not seen her since. Hearing the creak of his son’s wheelchair and muffled laughter, Ashton’s eyes followed the path his wife had taken sometime early this morning. He felt rather put out that Katherine had not joined him for lunch, and sighing irritably at the noises from without, he returned to the book he had abandoned a few moments before.
He was interrupted a moment later by a sharp knock on the library door. Setting aside his book once more with a grunt, he watched as the door opened as widely as possible, allowing for the bulky shape of Anton’s wheelchair.
Within its confines, his son sat, as always, but he looked nothing like the small boy into whose room Ashton had crept in the late hours of the previous night.
Putting aside the vision before him for a moment, he recalled the evening before with something close to terror. He had been shaken by the memories of his broken dreams and desperately needed the sight of his serenely sleeping son to calm his fractured nerves. He had sat by his son’s bedside for nearly an hour, tracing his finger down the length of his son’s arms and side, trying to erase the images of pale, starving children that had been etched into his mind by his nightmares. My son, my son, he had mourned silently. My son is like every other healthy boy – not like those waifs! Not like them. It was then he had noticed – when he had needed most to see it – the encouraging signs of color and weight in Anton’s face and arms.
Some of those same indications flashed out at Ashton now, as his son’s green eyes sparked with laughter, the same laughter that Katherine brought out in all of them. Lifting a brow and shaking away his thoughts, Ash stood, slowly inspecting the giggling form that sat in front of him. “And who is this,” he asked gravely, his eyes twinkling. “Who has stolen my son’s chair? He’ll want it back, you know.”
“Papa, it’s me! Maman created a new costume! Do you like it?” He shrugged a little in the tight shirt he wore, remnants of the previous year’s wardrobe that had not made its way into the servants’ hands. Such clothing was balanced, Ash noticed, by the presence of very baggy trousers, although he wasn’t sure whether their function served to hide the state of his son’s atrophied legs or if Katherine had simply misjudged the amount of material needed. With a start, Ash stared at his son, for it was only then that he noticed the tuft of hair now adorning Anton’s upper lip. With a laugh, he shook his head as he caught Katherine’s smile. “So that is the reason for the impromptu haircut! M’sieu Charles Chaplin, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I believe you are missing something.”
“I was going to mention that,” Katherine pointed out with a grin. “I couldn’t find one of your hats that quite fit the bill.”
Ashton’s laughter boomed off the walls at the thought of his little son draped in one of his hats, his eyes peering from beneath the rim. “No, I cannot imagine that you would. Giles!”
At his employer’s call, the calm face appeared almost miraculously at the door.
“Go into the attic,” Ash instructed, humor softening his melodic voice, “and fetch down my son’s trunks, s’il vous plaît. But be quick about it, please.”
When the heavy trunks, three in number, were brought down from the dusty attic, Ash knelt in front of them, digging through their contents, at times bringing out a scrap of clothing or a keepsake for Kat to inspect.
Laughing with delight at the sight of some of his old things, Anton clung tightly to the nappy hide of his first teddy. Looking up, his father wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Put him back, Anton, his stuffing is coming out. Perhaps there will be a new bear pour Noël.”
When Kat held out her hand, Anton reluctantly relinquished the cherished bear to Katherine, only to have her smile. “It’s not that bad . . .a little stitching here and there with some fresh stuffing put in first, and why . . . he’d be almost as good as new. Besides,” she paused and winked at the delighted boy, “he can keep company with the new teddy that will surely be here at Noël.”
Both woman and child were distracted as Ash uttered an elated shout. Carefully lifted from one of the heavy steamer trunks, there appeared an elegant derby-style hat. “I wanted it for him to wear on the voyage over, but he wasn’t well enough throughout the crossing. Now I’m afraid that it is too small.”
“No!” Kat exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight. “Actually, it is perfect – it is supposed to be too small.” Plopping the hat on Anton’s head, Kat beamed even as Ashton burst out into merry laughter.
“Except that it is evidently not too small,” Ashton noted through gales of laughter.
Peering out from under the rim, Anton looked at the woman he had come to call Maman, thankful for her presence in his life. Not only, he thought, for all the wonderful changes she had brought into his life, but also the changes he saw in his Papa. He smiled more now and laughed without the bitterness that even a child recognizes. Although Anton would have liked nothing more than to stay and watch them together, he was also looking forward to tonight’s party, and he knew that he needed a small rest before it all began.
He tried to imagine what would happen, what games everyone would play, and his heart beat wildly as Madame Megan appeared to wheel him back to his chambers for his afternoon nap. Even as he was settled, Anton continued to think about the party and its trappings. He shifted awkwardly in his bed and imagined what it would be like. Papa had said that both he and Maman would be there, and that the staff, too, would be there with their own children to play the games and eat the good things that would be served. However, there was one mystery that, for all of his pleading and coaxing, he could not find the information to solve.
Costumes!
If he had one, and the children were to have one, then surely so would his Maman and Papa, but when he asked, all he was given was a wink and a smile. Not even Madame Megan, from whom he could usually wheedle the details of any secret, could give him an answer; other than, of course, the utterly unsatisfying “it’s a surprise.” So, he would have to wait and see. Again, he wriggled stiffly on th
e little day bed on which he was supposed to be taking his rest, and stared happily at the little hat perched rakishly on the footboard.
Oh, I cannot wait!
When Kat returned after confirming that Anton was settled comfortably, she came to the library only to find Ash immersed once more in one of the many books he had collected. She watched him for a moment, happy that his earlier laughter had flushed his cheeks and chased away some of the haunted look she had seen in his eyes, before she spoke. “Ash . . . we have to dress up, too! Even the staff has gotten into the swing of things. There must be someone you could dress up to be for the party!”
The study was lined with books from floor to ceiling on three of the four walls of the room, so it was there she began her hunt for an idea. Kat knew he had read each and every one of them more than once, committing some of them to memory. Casually, she lifted the book that he had recently placed on a nearby table. “I mean . . . who is this – Gaston Leroux?”
For a moment, Ash did his best to hold back the laughter that threatened to boom from his chest. Finally, with the shake of his head, he tugged Kat onto his lap. “I will give you the shortened version of the tale, and one day, perhaps I shall read it to you in its native language. Your comprehension of French has improved greatly, and perhaps it is time for you to begin learning to read it as well.”
Nestling comfortably in his lap, Kat listened to the tale of a lonely man who had lived his entire existence shunned by humanity, with only his love of music to sustain him. “Well, that solves the question as to your costume,” she announced as she struggled out of his lap. “You have an entire closet full of clothes that are just for formal occasions. Dress as this Fantôme person . . . you’ve that elegant cape and Lord knows you have enough dress clothes!” Clapping her hands with delight, she gazed at him with such warmth that he knew he would not – could not -- refuse her. “And a mask – he wore a mask in the book, did he not?”
“Not often, non, but yes, he did wear a mask on occasion. Very well,” he agreed with a twinkle in his eyes, “but if I agree, then you must also wear a costume, one that I think would suit you.”