“Ma’am! So many, where will we put them all? And the extra food. How will we manage?”
“Well, they are going to have to put up with some close quarters. I need to ask you to relinquish your chambers.”
“Of course. Will members of your family have their own…eh…butlers?”
Victoria chuckled, a dry rasp. “Butlers serve the house. Valets serve the man. Andrei has always traveled with one, usually as insufferable as him. Let me see. William, Cross, Dieter and Eduardo keep valets. We can safely assume all of the women will have maidservants.”
She tapped her chin, thinking. “I will write the remainder of attendees and inquire as to their arrangements. We will need to purchase the Alexander home to lodge the valets and maidservants.”
“Purchase? The Alexanders? I don’t think their farmhouse is for sale.”
“Everything is for sale, girl. Sometimes it takes numbers for people to realize how much or how little their possessions matter to them.”
She waved a claw at Renie. “Don’t worry about the Alexanders. I will deal with them. But we still need to attend to the extra guests. I think it’s time to update the old carriage house.”
“It’s in a horrible state now. It looks like it’s been years since anyone lived there.”
“It has. Twenty years or more. But it was once quite comfortable and served as an inn when I was a girl. My father acquired it long ago. As much as I dislike the idea, you will need to have some contractors come make it ready.” Victoria held up a hand, palm out. “Yes, I know it will be expensive. Short work often is. And we will need to take inventory of the furniture, purchase new linens. And drapes. Heavy drapes.”
She picked up her correspondence. “Please take care of the carriage house repairs and I will deal with the Alexanders. And remember, child, no dallying with the help. I do not like outsiders walking about freely on the grounds. Make sure they understand that they are not allowed anywhere except the carriage house.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will.”
January drew ever closer. Christmas passed and Victoria and Renie exchanged gifts. Renie purchased a rare volume of the poetry of John Gould Fletcher for her employer, having heard her speak of the man, his bright wit and dour moods. Victoria seemed to be pleased with the gift, though it was always hard for Renie to tell.
Victoria, in turn, gave Renie a hand-gun. "This is to protect you while you perform your duties. You never can tell who or what might wish you...or me...harm."
The heavy gun felt massive in her hands. It was like some stone she had picked up from a stream-bed.
"It's not pretty. But that was my father's gun. Smith & Wesson. .45 caliber. 1911 issue. They haven't changed this model in almost a hundred years. It's inaccurate as hell, but stick it in their stomach or face and pull the trigger, you'll vaporize them."
"Them? Ma'am I'm not sure I know what to say."
"Just say thank you. And keep it near you at all times. We must stay protected."
The Alexanders moved away, leaving their house and all the furnishings intact. Victoria signed the paperwork on the week between Christmas and New Years. Her Little Rock lawyer came by to pick up the papers the next day.
"What does she want the house for?” Florid and dressed in a dark suit, he impatiently waved his hand. “It's just the two of you here with more space than you know what to do with. And I can't understand why she's having the company pay for it."
"Investment, I guess. You'll have to ask her."
"All right. Where is she?"
"Oh. I'm sorry, you'll need to make an appointment. I'll let her know that you request a...face to face."
He blinked. "No. It's not necessary. Let her buy what she wants. She's the boss."
The construction crew, working furiously throughout November and December, finished the carriage house on time. Renie spent her days watching them through the warped glass windows of the back of the house, the sounds of saws and hammers bright in the winter air. As delicately as she knew how, Renie informed the foreman and crew that she held bonus checks for each of them, to be delivered on December 31 and only if the house was complete. The men took this seriously. They joked that it was the first deadline they'd ever met as Renie passed out the checks.
Frantic, Renie attended to the appointments for the space. New linens and drapery, art and other accoutrements, desks, vanities, sofas, chairs, lighting, carpet; all of these were needed. With Victoria's permission, she hired a decorator from Little Rock to finish out the interior of the house before January fifth, the day of the party. A stout little woman with broad expressive features and short cropped hair presented herself to Renie. She looked over the list and nodded.
Renie asked, “Can you do this? By the fifth?” Holding her breath. The woman smiled and said, “Cheap, fast and good. Pick two.” And laughed. Fast and good meant more checks and more expense.
Renie couldn't sleep, her excitement was so great. She spent day and night cleaning the Mansion, making it ready for the guests. It took her hours to polish the silver and iron the linens. Methodically and according to place settings she had designed with Victoria, she set the banquet hall and the library tables with the bone china, Irish silver and cobalt and gold-laced crystal goblets. She arranged the ornate pewter flowerpots, each one awaiting its own orchid. She positioned candles about the house, always with an eye toward dramatic light. She became entranced with the ritual of trimming the candle wicks, the smell of beeswax rich and redolent in her hair, her nose. She polished the wood and waxed the floors. She dusted the books and stocked the firewood bin in the library.
On the day of the party the crates began arriving around ten. They all held different shapes. Half marked clearly as orchids, Renie had them placed in the banquet hall. But the other crates, the longer and heavier crates, she found herself at a loss to deal with. One was from Germany, another four from England. Two more were from Italy. Five from Hungary. Two from Mexico. One from Spain. Two from Czech Republic. Sixteen were postmarked from inside the United States. She climbed the Great Stair, dimmed all the lights in the hallway, and entered Victoria's room.
"Yes?" her voice sounded dry and thin, not a little disturbed.
"The orchids have arrived and I've had them placed in the banquet hall."
"Wonderful. How do they look?"
"I haven't had a chance to see. Some other crates have arrived as well, the delivery men are waiting outside for directions. I don't know what to do with them. One is from England. Two are from Arezzo. I thought we received all of the purchases?"
"Ah. Have them place the other crates in the carriage house garage. They should all fit there. Any more that arrive in the afternoon will need to be placed there as well. Once it is apparent that no other shipments are coming, go make one last round in the carriage house. Make sure all the drapes are drawn and that each room has its own orchid. Also attend to the master bedroom in the carriage house, that it has the gorgeous ceramic pot with the silver filigree. Find the most beautiful orchid and place it there. That is Andrei's room and I do not want him disappointed. Oh, and get a damp towel and wipe the leaves at the base of every flower. They're usually grimy from shipping."
"Yes, ma'am. I'm so excited for the party! It's going to be amazing."
Victoria remained silent.
"Yes, it will be a party to remember. Once you've attended your duties, light the candles and come back here so that we might talk."
"Yes, ma'am."
Renie dashed off, back down the great stair and out the front door, her heart light and head full of flowers. When the day ended, and the detritus of her orchid arranging completely erased from the banquet hall, she walked through the house, lighting candles. The old building took on a warm, roseate glow, crystal and silver twinkling. Renie sighed. Then, ignoring her fatigue, her heart beating fast, she mounted the Great Stairs again, excited for the evening.
Victoria was at her vanity, combing her long white hair. She raised her eyes as Renie ente
red.
"Ah, Renie, come here."
Renie approached her, hand holding hand.
"Sit." Victoria patted the cushioned seat next to her. Renie sat.
"I have some...dissappointing...news for you."
"Ma'am...I..."
"Hush. Don't interrupt me." Victoria set down the brush and looked at Renie. "Brushing my hair is always so much more pleasing when you do it. I know it will be done right."
Renie glanced from Victoria to the mirrors of the vanity.
"However, I must resign myself to not having you around for a bit."
"What? Ma'am, how could you send me away? The party...I've worked so hard..."
The older woman shook her head, white hair shimmering.
"No, I'm sorry Renie. It's too dangerous and I've put too much effort into you to have you...lost."
Renie shook her head, vehemently. "But ma'am, I beg you. You haven't even had any supper tonight. Let me..." She held up her wrists to the older woman.
"No, I will sup later, with the guests. Truly Renie, it is too dangerous. Andrei and the rest of my family are...unruly. They cannot be trusted with you. And we have new members to the family that I know very little about. I must send you away. For your protection."
Silent and unmoving, tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh, Renie. Child, dry your eyes. It is not the end of the world. I promise you, you will one day remain by my side always. But until then, I need to protect my investment. You. I don't want to have to train someone new."
She nodded, dejected. Victoria placed a knuckle under Renie's chin and gently tilted the younger woman's head upward.
"You are very important to me, Renie. I want you to know that."
Renie wiped her eyes and forced a smile. It didn't extend to her eyes.
"So. Don't be sad. Go to Little Rock. Check in at the Capitol Hotel. It's a beatiful old building. Get your hair done. Get a massage. A pedicure. Then come back tomorrow. All will be well then. Take the station wagon. But I need you to go very quickly. Can you do this?"
She paused for a long time, her eyes boring into her master's.
This child has spirit!
Victoria nudged the younger woman's head a little higher with her knuckle. Renie nodded.
"Good. Take care and I will see you when you get back."
"Happy birthday, ma'am."
Victoria blinked in surprise. She took Renie's hand and patted it.
"So it is my birthday. I had forgotten. Thank you Renie."
Renie rose, walked to the door and to her room. She packed a small bag, the .45, a make-up bag. She was crying when she left the building and got into the Volvo, the sound of its engine harsh against the quiet evening air. She didn't notice the dark figures watching her from beneath the eaves of the carriage house.
In the car, driving away, Renie craned her neck to take inventory of the items in bed of the station wagon. Heavy rope, a box-cutter, heavy duty plastic bags, duct tape.
When she reached the highway, instead of turning right towards Little Rock, Renie turned the opposite direction.
Towards Gethsemane.
***
Many years had passed since Victoria Stith Pemberton drew a bath. Such is the benefit of servants.
She turned the spigot and started the boiling hot water filling the old claw-footed tub. Her ears detected some movement in the house, but she ignored it, picking up a crystal container of essential oils. The label read Litsea Cubeba. She turned the decanter delicately, letting the oil drizzle in a line from the mouth of the container to the water of the bath. A bright lemon smell filled the bathroom.
Dropping her silk dressing gown to the floor, she stretched, her white skin shining in the light of the room, her ancient flesh smooth and unmarked by scar or blemish. She touched her breasts lightly, then moved her hand to the soft tuft of white hair between her legs. In the tub, she let the scented water warm her cold flesh. She hummed lightly, running her hands up and down her body, through her hair.
It's going to be a good night.
She descended the stairs taking small delicate steps, feeling alive. The foyer was all ready crowded, white faces with bright black eyes watching her. Ilsa's dress felt electric on her skin.
She moved through the crowd, nodding her head, acknowledging the stares with a graceful tilt of her head, pursing red lips.
"Thank you so much for coming." She let Eduardo take her hand and kiss it. She laughed, delighted. He looked at her with smoldering brown eyes.
"I would not have missed it for the world. I remember when you were just a girl, traveling Europe with your chaperon. They called you a blond then. Not this!" He brought a hand up and touched her hair tenderly.
"Milly. Yes." She brought a hand to her throat, nails red and sharp. "I haven't thought of her in...fifty years."
"It is wonderful to see you. You look fabulous. Please allow me to speak with you later...after the council."
Renie moved on, floating through the crowd like a ghost. She felt wonderful. The company of her peers and family revivified her, made fearful and excited all at once.
She could hear Andrei holding court in the library.
"...they call it gavage. It's a technique for fattening the bird and flavoring the meat. Take a duck, and four or five months before slaughter, you pump it full of a rice and herb mixture twice a day. Supposedly the taste of herbs will suffuse the flesh. Force feeding. I've seen it. It's amazing really, how people come up with these things. And geese and ducks are like pigs, they pack on the weight quickly. In that way they're similar to humans. With the ducks their livers enlarge from which they make the foie gras..."
As she entered the library, she saw him standing, back to the fire, speaking to the crowd. A little troll of a man, he had red hair and a forked beard and a pot belly. He wore a tan three piece suit with garish red leather shoes. Everything about him was overly loud, his voice, his appearance.
"...and they say that it flavors the meat. Obviously I did not have the opportunity to try any..."
Laughter. He looked about the room with bright eyes. His gaze settled on Victoria and his face twisted into a smile, blood-red lips pursing sensuously.
"And here is the lady of honor! Our little Victoria has made her entrance!"
Heads turned towards Victoria. Men and women moved forward to greet her. Andrei busied himself putting logs on the fire. Watching her, smiling.
Victoria clapped loudly, inclining her head towards Andrei. All eyes turned toward her. Using her best stage voice, she said, “Everyone. Everyone. I am so glad you all could attend. Before the night gets too late and the festivities start, please ask your valets and maidservants report to their quarters. I've provided a small map to guide them. It would be best for the security of the guests.” She held her hands together and gave a slight curtsy. “Oh, and no driving on the grass.”
A few men and women wandered away, seeking their servants. Others remained, milling, bright faces with dark eyes.
"...you must tell us about this mansion. It seems so out of place here in the delta..."
"...a little bird told me you have a surprise for us, something to do with..."
“...these orchids are amazing! Where did you come by so many? And the black lips! Where did you...”
"I can't get over your dress. Who's the designer? I can't recognize the label. Fabulous."
Answering the questions as best she could, Victoria noticed Cross moving towards the baby grand. He sat at the stool and ran through a scale, ending on a big chord, thrumming. The guests pressed close around Victoria.
"Let me show you around, now that Cross has taken his place. I am very proud of my home," she said, holding out white arms. The man at the piano began to play a piece from il Teuzzone, the aria, his long thin fingers dashing up and down the keys.
Victoria heard Andrei exclaim, "Ah! The Red Priest! Marvelous!" She moved away from the sound of Andrei's laughter, a small group of guests following.
She began: "The Mansion was built of cypress and oak in 1836, the year Arkansas gained statehood, by my grandfather. Lucious Gaius Pemberton. Drinking buddy of Sam Houston. Known as Lucky by his friends. A lawyer and state legislator who, I'm afraid, lined his pockets with kickbacks and bribes." She paused in front of a large oil painting. "This is Thomas Birch's portrait of him. The old fiend. He shot a man on the floor of the legislature for blocking a bill that would've given him rights to a large tract of public land."
She moved through the rooms, pointing out fixtures, artwork. "Here is a Rembrandt, untitled, lost from the Kunstverein München Museum in 1941. A small piece, but exquisite." There were appropriate oohs and ahhs from the trailing guests.
"Remarkable little cache you have here. How did you come by it?"
"I've picked it up here and there, over the years. I have agents working for me."
They passed into the banquet hall. The set table gleamed.
Several guests exclaimed at the sight of the banquet table, white china shining with candlelight.
A woman murmured, "I miss dining. The ceremony."
"You miss the accoutrements. The plates and knives and forks. At the heart of every family member lies a collector," a man said in a lazy, contemptuous voice. British.
Victoria interrupted. "This china is especially ...eh ...collectible. It was once owned by Dr. William Palmer. Palmer the Poisoner. Bone china."
The British man languidly raised one eyebrow and smirked. "Yes. Exquisite. Palmer was a sot. Fat gibbering fool."
A ringing sounded and Victoria turned to see Andrei standing with silver spoon and crystal goblet in hand. Ding ding ding.
He rapped the side of the glass hard with his spoon. The sound filled the vaulted space of the banquet hall and moved through the mansion. Guests converged on the banquet hall.
Andrei moved to stand at the head of the table, the light from the candles illuminating the dark hollows of his eyes. He waited, allowing the room to fill.
"My family," he began, smiling to all gathered around him. "We are gathered here today to celebrate Victoria's hundredth birthday. Our baby has finally come of age! Congratulations Victoria. You've survived until adulthood."
Fierce as the Grave: A Quartet of Horror Stories Page 6