She laid one hand on his arm. "I feel fine. I would love to have lunch with you. Thank you for asking."
Her warmth touched the depths of his loneliness. Dmitri felt something stir within, which had been dormant for too long a time. "I had not realized a simple luncheon invitation could produce such an effect." His tone was light and teasing.
Camille impulsively took his arm and nestled against him.
"You have no one to blame for my behavior but yourself." With a laugh, she matched her steps with Dmitri's as they walked down the hall to the dining room.
Alexis followed them, clearing his throat as he walked. "Ah, would you care to introduce us, Dmitri? Or should I simply be silent and pretend I am not here?"
"Forgive me, my friend!" Dmitri smiled at Camille. "Madame has devastated me with her glorious smile. Camille, this is Alexis Vostovich. He manages my mill, my home when I am absent and manages to be my best friend as well. Alexis, may I present Camille, my wife."
"Madame!" Alexis tapped his heels together before he bowed low from the waist.
"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Vostovich." Camille nodded her head. "I hope you and I shall be the best of friends as well."
"You may count me among your friends, Madame."
"Oh please, I find it difficult to be so far above everyone here. Will you call me Camille? I actually would prefer it."
"For a lovely lady, anything." Alexis glanced at Dmitri, gauging his reaction to the conversation so far. Dmitri was still smiling at his bride. "Camille, it shall be."
Dmitri glanced at Alexis. With a chuckle, he shook his head at him. "Friend or no friend Alexis, you keep in mind whose wife she is."
Camille and Alexis began to laugh. After a brief hesitation, he joined them. Dmitri found he was unsure of his reason for making the comment. Anya and Alexis had been on a first name basis. However, they knew each other from the cradle.
Had he been joking? Camille's arm was pressed tightly against his side; her perfume gently assailed him. She was young and lovely. Inexperience could and would be cured. A flash of memory from the previous night jolted him slightly. Camille was his wife. Dmitri discovered the fact meant something to him in an entirely different way than previously.
Lunch was an enjoyable experience. Camille was utterly charming. Her gentle banter began to pierce the wall Dmitri had placed around his heart. The feelings she was stirring within him, caused Dmitri moments of concern.
His head was uncertain of where this could be leading; his heart wanted to gallop ahead heedless of possible pitfalls. With her, he felt much as he did when coming home from a long business trip, a deep feeling of contentment. When lunch was over, he took Camille's hand in his.
"Would you like to go out to the Laurie with me? It will be leaving soon. I wish to be sure we have completed our portion of the contract correctly. I also want to entrust a bit of correspondence to your Uncle."
"I would like to tell Uncle Samuel goodbye. I also have a letter for my Aunt Leontine to give to him."
"There are a few papers in the study I need. Would you care to join us, Alexis?"
"I will walk with you as far as the path to the mill Dmitri."
Camille and Alexis stood in the hall talking while Dmitri went into the study. When he returned, the three of them went outside. Alexis left them at the juncture of the mill trail.
Hand in hand, the couple walked out onto the wharf to the Laurie. Passengers lined the deck, as she got up steam. Dmitri noticed Vanessa standing at the rail. Her expression did not give him any clue to her thoughts.
Vanessa was exquisitely turned out, as always. She was beautiful. Vanessa held herself regally while watching them pass. Her expression of bored disinterest did not alter, as she glanced at him.
It took only a few minutes for Dmitri and Devins to get the shipping documents signed. The Captain and Camille exchanged a quick hug. Samuel deposited a light peck on her cheek. Camille entrusted her letter to him, then backed away.
Dmitri handed Devins another envelope.
"I would appreciate it, Captain, if you would deliver this letter to Barrow in Seattle, or pass it on to the first ship leaving Juneau, to do so. I would like it to reach Barrow as soon as possible. I find there are a few more things I require before winter sets in."
"Certainly. I will be happy to, Count. But, I had thought you wished me to return here before going on to Seattle?"
"It will not be necessary. Take my share of the profits and deposit them with Barrow. He has instructions to proceed from there. I will see you when you return for another shipment of lumber."
They shook hands. Dmitri again clasped Camille's hand in his. "Safe voyage, Captain Devins."
Dmitri and Camille left the pilothouse, then walked down the gangplank. Two sailors hoisted it aboard the Laurie. The couple stood on the pier, watching the Laurie steam slowly out of the fjord.
Camille's heart gave a sudden start, as she realized how far from home and family she truly was. One small tear started down her cheek. Camille brushed it away. Dmitri saw her gesture.
"Courage, little one. You have only friends here, and you also have me. Would you care for a glass of sherry?"
Camille nodded. Together they started back up the path to the house.
Together, they sat in Dmitri's study. Camille held a glass of sherry in hand, and Dmitri cradled a snifter of brandy. She sipped at the liquor frightened by the intensity of the wave of loneliness which engulfed her at the sight of the Laurie leaving the bay.
However, there was a certain amount of excitement mixed in. It was as if she were a pioneer. The house was beautiful with many more luxuries than pioneer women had, yet it was the wilderness all the same.
Between this island and civilization, lay many miles of water. If anything was to happen fire, flood, disease, they were alone here on the island. This community must fend for itself. It was a terrifying thought, yet an exciting one. Everything was so new, so strange!
It was as if she were balancing on the edge of something, but Camille was unsure if the something would be good or bad. Camille could no longer tolerate the silence. She wanted to hear the sound of her husband's voice.
"I believe you mentioned Anya had a governess. I don't recall meeting her yet."
Dmitri swirled the brandy around in the snifter he was warming between his hands. His jaw clenched for a moment before answering Camille.
"Anya had a governess. Alexis took Anya's governess to Sitka on his last trip. My daughter has rid herself of another one."
Dmitri tossed down the brandy, then rose to refill his glass. "Everything runs well until I leave." He shrugged. "When I am gone, Anya rearranges everything to her liking."
Camille took another sip of sherry. A thought came to her; she wondered what Dmitri would think of it. His staff managed everything so well she was redundant. Lying about the house, with nothing more to do than needlework was something she had never done. Enforced leisure was boring. It also allowed the mind to wander into areas that were often unhealthy.
While in school, she trained as a teacher. The nuns always had a certain amount of students who took the veil, so they educated the girls to be of service to the community and the church. Perhaps, she could now be of service to his community.
"The mill workers have a town here?"
"They work in the mill, yes. But they call themselves 'promyshilenik,' it means fur hunter in Russian." He interjected with a smile.
Camille nodded her understanding. "They have children?"
Dmitri put his boots on a footstool, then leaned back in his chair again. "There are at least four to eight children to each family. I often wonder if we will run out of land here someday."
"I thought as much." She finished the drink, then put the glass on the table. "Is there a school on the island?"
Dmitri’s gaze was sharp. "No. I had not thought of opening a school before. In Russia, it is not done. However, the children need education to survive in this world. As we
are no longer part of Russia, a school would be a great benefit to the village. Your point is well taken."
***
Camille laughed. Low and vibrant, it affected him, as the brandy had not. He could not predict her reactions, something that kept him off balance. He noticed her earlier withdrawal had eased. Was she still suffering from the ill effects of the laudanum?
Then there was her effect on him; one moment he wanted to shake her, the next he wanted to end the conversation by carrying her off. With a slight shake of his head at his insanity, Dmitri turned his attention back to the conversation.
"Public education is flourishing in the United States. Schools are springing up everywhere. I believe you mentioned Anya attended school in Sitka."
"You have a sharp memory, my dear." Dmitri was wary of her destination in this discussion. "It was a missionary school. Anya was miserable away from home. I promised her; I would never send her away again."
If Camille was leading up to sending Anya away, he wanted her to know it was out of the question. Dmitri had hoped Camille could adjust to the situation. He wanted more from her.
She smiled at him. "I can understand how Anya must have felt. It is not as if she could come home at the end of each day. That must have been hard, far from home and alone. I think one would learn best in a comfortable atmosphere. Anya might be more inclined to apply herself if she attended with her friends."
Dmitri sighed in relief. It seemed sending Anya away was not what Camille had in mind.
"I want to open a school here for all the children. If Anya attends, I think that will solve your governess problem."
Dmitri shot to his feet, leaned over and kissed Camille on the cheek. "Brilliant! I do not know why I did not think of it earlier. Everyone would benefit, including Anya. The cost would be no greater to educate all as to educate one."
He paced the room in a fever of excitement. "I will have a cabin built in the village. You can help me find a teacher. Perhaps a male would be best. Some of the older boys might be difficult to handle."
"Oh, Dmitri! No!" Camille cried, as she jumped to her feet, then reached out to grasp his arm. "I will teach the children. Please, there is so little for me to do here. I am qualified to teach. The nuns made sure all their students could teach. This way, there would be no teacher to pay. Further, there would be no worries about Anya ridding herself of another governess."
Dmitri looked down into her face. Ignoring her entreaty was difficult. But never had he heard of such a thing before. Things were changing in his world. They were now Americans. Russian traditions' no longer had to be followed regardless. If she would take on the chore, perhaps they should try it for a while. They could see how everyone fared.
He took her chin in his hand. "Do you think you can teach? There will be a large group of children and keeping order will not be an easy thing to undertake."
"I need to do something, other than sitting here doing nothing. There is no appeal to becoming fat and lazy like a lap dog. The Sisters taught me to work, to be useful; I need to accomplish something. Please, Dmitri?"
"Well then, tell me what you need and I will send for supplies."
Still clasping her face in his hand, Dmitri lowered his lips to hers. There was a slight quiver when he brushed her soft pink lips. Dmitri pulled her against him. There was a hint of stiffness about her. Camille lowered her head. He had to lift her face to kiss her again.
"Please. Someone might come in."
"No. Not unless I allow it." He kissed her again.
Camille relaxed into his embrace. One soft hand crept up to stroke the back of his neck. Camille returned his kiss, then broke away. She laid her head against his chest. Dmitri put his arms around her shoulders, holding her against him.
***
A sense of security settled on Camille, which took her by surprise. There was also another feeling, which began as a strange twisting deep in the pit of her stomach. For an instant, she stiffened against the intensity of it.
She felt compelled to break free of Dmitri's embrace because of her reaction to his touch. Camille wanted him to take her up to his room. The excitement produced by the thought frightened her. How could she think such a thing in broad daylight? Such matters were for the privacy of the marriage bed at night. It was almost as if she were someone else. Leontine had not spoken of any desire for her uncle, only of the duty a wife had to her husband.
She pulled away from Dmitri; Camille retreated to the window. An odd emotion swept over her, and Camille wondered if she might be dreaming. It was as if she had taken laudanum again. An impression of being caught in an illusion became so intense, even the view from the window reminded her of a painting. Some artist had created a world of intense colors too fantastic to be real.
She stared across the water at the virgin forest on the far side of the bay. Everywhere she looked, the forest stood silent, as it watched and waited. Perhaps it waited to swallow everything man had hewn from it. For a moment, she experienced a sense of danger; as if something evil lurked in the depths of the forest. With a shiver, Camille backed away from the window.
Dmitri took her cold hands in his and rubbed them between his palms. "Camille? Is something wrong?"
She tried to shake off the fear which was attempting to invade her thoughts. "Sometimes it is as if everyone is leaving me. I sometimes think I will be alone forever." Camille mumbled before she looked up at him with a frown on her face. "I am sorry, Dmitri. Everything is happening so fast; I find I am having difficulty in adjusting."
Camille tried to laugh. The high pitched sound, which she forced out, seemed as if it should belong to someone else. Camille pressed her lips together.
Dmitri stroked her pale cheek with his fingertips. "Hush now. I know this is all new and somewhat overwhelming. There have been many changes in your life in a short time. I want you to be happy here. But be patient, time will help."
The back of his hand brushed across the side of her throat. "If you wish, we could take a walk to the village. We might even choose a spot for the schoolhouse. What do you think? Shall we?"
"By all means," Camille responded.
Action was preferable to sitting here indulging her fears. Camille led the way out of the study to the front porch. Together, they walked down the stairs into the bright sunlight.
Once outside, the tension drained away. Here the forest did not appear in the least dangerous. A light breeze drifted through the large trees. Their branches swayed in response.
She glanced at the man who walked beside her. Perhaps it was his presence that reassured her. In his woolen attire, the Count still retained an air of calm competence, yet there was something else. With the rough clothing and his eye patch, Dmitri reminded Camille of the miners who frequented the streets of San Francisco. They were tough, dangerous men and only a few crossed them.
Dmitri Bressoff was of the same stripe. It had been harder to discern when she first saw him on the Laurie. He appeared to be just another one of the many businessmen her uncle knew. He was a complicated man and attempting to pigeonhole him would be a mistake. She would need to keep an open mind about her husband.
When they returned to the house, Camille felt tired yet very pleased with the manner in which the afternoon passed. Dmitri introduced her to the people of the village. As they looked around the clearing the village sat in, he suggested a site for the school. It would sit at the edge of the village, close to the start of the trail to the house.
In the morning, Dmitri, with help from some of the older boys, would begin construction. The melancholia which took possession of her after the Laurie sailed lifted and Camille hoped it would never return.
She retired to her room with a book from the study. Books lay all around the house. It was a shame there was no formal library. In the study were three, floor-to-ceiling book cases, built in on either side of the fireplace and along one wall. Each held volume after volume of books.
A shelf for books lined one wall of Dmitri's r
oom. Some of the works were in Russian and appeared to be old. Other books were in English. Interspersed here and there on the shelves, was the occasional French novel. The books were on many topics. When she paged through the various volumes, Camille learned more about the man she now shared her life with.
Camille decided her husband had a great thirst for knowledge. Geology, engineering, and history all captured his attention at one time. When glancing through some of the more technical books, she found notations in the margins in his neat script. The amusing thing was when reading in Russian; he wrote in Russian. When reading in English or French, he wrote in those languages.
She discovered a book of poetry tucked between two larger volumes of history. Camille took the book to her room to look through before dinner. She sat on the chaise lounge, wrapped in her dressing gown, paging through the poems in the book.
Soft words and a barrage of insistent kisses woke her. Disoriented, Camille turned her head away, then put her arms across her chest as she attempted to evade Dmitri.
There must have been other women since his wife's death, she thought. But it seemed he was insatiable. It was still light anyone might wish entrance. Unused to being approached in such a manner and in daylight, Camille became agitated.
Camille whispered her thoughts to Dmitri as she attempted to rise. His only reply was a passionate kiss which left her in no doubt of his unwillingness to give up his immediate goal. He touched her in places he was well aware would bring about a response. Dmitri's overwhelming desire molded her to his wants and needs.
Her body yielded. Camille felt a quiet yearning within her in answer to his touch. But the mental release which accompanied their other couplings was absent.
Was this only lust? She did not believe she loved Dmitri. It was different when she needed his attention. It had been different on their first night in his home. For a moment like felt like a whore in a brothel. Repulsed, Camille found all desire for his touch gone. She forced herself to lay beneath him passive against his onslaught.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 11