"I did not want to be alone tonight. I wish Alexis would marry and have done with it. He is past the age when most men do so. His courtship of Karin has gone on long enough. I would like grandchildren about the house. It is too quiet with him gone. If I had Karin there when he is away, it would be wonderful."
Camille rose from the dressing table so that Helena could unhook the dress. The maid put away the clothing then tidied up the dressing room while Camille slipped into her nightgown.
"Do you have any other children?"
"No. My husband was lost at sea before Alexis was born. He was a fisherman. I returned here to Bressoff Island and became Madame Alexeievna's maid. My parents came from the Russian estate with the Count's family and mother birthed me on this island. My family has served the Bressoffs for generations."
Helena went into the other room where she turned down the bed for Camille. "Madame's son, Count Dmitri, is just a year older than Alexis. I brought him here to the house with me every day. While I worked, Alexis and Dmi-devil played together. They were like brothers. They studied with the tutor together, thanks to Madame’s kindness."
Camille sat on the end of the bed and smiled at Helena. "Dmi-devil! Is that Dmitri’s baby name?"
Helena placed a hand on Camille's arm. "Do not let him find out I told you, Madame."
Helena sat down on the chaise, her large body shaking with laughter. "But Lord, he was such a devil! Dmitri spent more time being punished than not."
Helena threw her hands up in the air. "Tatiana and I wore ourselves out, trying to keep him out of mischief. Alexis was always right there beside him like a shadow. Things are much the same. When Dmitri is home, they spend much of their time together. While Dmitri is away on business, Alexis keeps things running for him here."
Helena then put a chubby hand to her mouth. "I am sorry Madame, to have bored you with all this talk. I will go to my room now."
She seemed quite contrite, as she rose from the chaise, then moved toward the door.
"No, please understand, the information did not bore me. I like hearing about Dmitri's childhood. Sometimes I feel like an intruder. The stories you tell help me to understand the people. You have been here all your life, and your memories tie you to everyone else. For me, it is like being dropped into a place where I do not know the language or customs."
Helena's round face wore a soft smile when she turned to glance at Camille. "In time, this will be your home as it is mine. Have patience, my dear."
She opened the door and slipped out, latching it behind her.
Camille closed her eyes. How nice it would be to have a child of her own. Their son, another Dmi-devil to run everyone ragged. It was something his first wife had not done for him, given him a son. If she were to bear him a child, it might give them something to hold on to, a common interest which might bind them together.
She forced herself to think about the night Dmitri stormed out of the house. Camille was avoiding thinking about it to prevent an attack of melancholia.
The truth would have avoided the entire scene. It would have set things right between them. He would not have become so angry. Disappointed perhaps, but all husbands faced that trial every month. He was used to it by now.
But what would happen when he came home? What if he returned and wanted nothing further to do with her? Camille shook her head at the bitter thought. If that happened, she would be forced to woo him back. No matter what happened, she was his wife. It gave her all the time she needed as long as she did not behave like a fool again. If it took the rest of her life, she would make Dmitri Bressoff love her.
Camille blew out her lamp. In the twilight with the covers over her head, it was time to face the problem as she should have in the beginning.
After Frank's death, she thought she would never love again. How romantic her first brush with love had been. But when Frank died, she went off the deep end. Camille admitted to herself she played the bereaved young widow to the hilt and had gone too far.
In thinking about it, she came to realize she reacted not only to the horror of his death but to the unhappy fact of being once again stuck in a circumstance she had hoped to escape. Her grief was as much for herself as for her poor dead husband.
In retrospect, she decided Frank would not have enjoyed her performance as much as she did. He was a soldier and would have shouldered his losses and moved along, much as Dmitri did after his wife died.
The nightmare was something she avoided analyzing. It bothered her to think about the dream. It was her yearning and guilt that turned on her. Frank wanted to make love the evening before the wedding. Her guilt over not giving in was the motivation for the nightmare.
They had argued over it. She maintained one more day would not make any difference. So, she dreamed he was making love to her. In the dream she was responding to him, wanting and needing something she did not even understand.
Now she knew. The thought of Dmitri's hand on her breast caused her to shiver beneath the blankets. The nightmare had faded into the past. Dmitri's presence alone drove it away. Camille felt stronger than she ever had and being in love gave her power to override the dreary gloom that often affected her as a young girl.
What a bleak hell her life was then. Afraid each day would find them on the street, without so much as a crust of bread, she was in a state of anxiety all the time. Her circumstances changed, but she did not. With a contented sigh, she stretched out beneath the blankets. When Dmitri returned, things would be different. She would see to it.
Her days drifted by on a rosy cloud as she waited for her husband to return home. Nothing disturbed Camille's newly acquired inner serenity.
Camille had the key to coping with Anya. She understood what Anya wanted most in the world. Interaction with the stubborn child was almost normal. Anya relaxed somewhat and allowed Camille to give her snippets of advise and mild direction. As the days went on, Bressoff Island came to feel as if it were Camille’s home.
Dmitri’s absence stretched into ten days. Early on the morning of the tenth day, a ship tied up to the wharf. It was a small coastal steamer. Camille saw it from Dmitri's window. Her morning started with a glance across the bay. Clad in a nightgown and robe, she went to the window each morning when she rose.
She hurried to dress. Perhaps Dmitri had sent her a message. Camille took the first dress she came to out of the wardrobe. While struggling with the fastenings, Camille rushed back into Dmitri's room.
As she watched from the window, a man walked the last few feet up the path and mounted the porch steps. Stiff with excitement, her fingers fumbled with the hooks and eyes. Finished. Camille rushed out into the hall. She paused to calm herself and the conversation between Tatiana, and the ship's captain drifted upward. Camille heard Dmitri's name mentioned.
"Count Bressoff was doing well when I saw him last in Juneau."
Juneau? Camille leaned against the rail. She knew Dmitri told Gregor he was going to Sitka.
"Are you certain you saw the Count in Juneau?" Tatiana voiced the question Camille wished the answer to.
"I am quite sure." The man's tone was firm. "Count Bressoff had the prettiest woman in Juneau hanging on his arm. And they made a fine looking pair, I can tell you."
Camille heard Tatiana's startled exclamation, as she backed away from the rail. Then she dashed into her room and closed the door behind her.
"The prettiest woman in Juneau," She whispered the words the man had spoken. Dmitri had found another woman in Juneau. Rage surged through her. Camille gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.
Her Mother, Father, Leontine and the nuns, she blamed them all. Camille jerked open the secretary. Her fingers shook as she took out pen and paper. They were all so unswerving in their protection of her innocence. She was so innocent and ignorant; she may have lost the only thing she longed for. If she lost Dmitri, she would never again speak to Leontine.
"Dear Leontine." Her hand shook as she wrote causing ink blobs on the paper. "
No one ever saw fit to enlighten me as to my duties to my husband in the marriage bed. I, being a shy person, was too ashamed to ask. Now, perhaps you will see fit to educate me. Why did you keep silent?"
Camille signed the note she scrawled out and placed it in the envelope with the other pages.
There was a knock on the door, and she sealed the letter before rising from the chair. It had to be Tatiana waiting for the package she wanted to send. She removed the parcel for Leontine from the bottom of her wardrobe and strode over to the door. Camille took a deep breath. It was necessary to pretend she heard nothing. On opening the door, she found Tatiana standing there, hands folded in front of her.
"Good morning, Madame. There is a south bound steamer at the wharf."
"I saw it from Dmitri's bedroom window. I thought it might be going to California." Camille placed the package along with the letter in Tatiana's hands.
"See that the captain gets these if you will. Have Nita fix him a good breakfast, but make my apologies, please. I have a headache; I cannot entertain him."
Tatiana inclined her head and glanced at Camille in inquiry. "Would you like Helena to bring you some tea?"
"Thank you for the thought. No. I just wish to be left alone."
Camille closed the door. The fingers of her left hand trailed over the back of the rocker and the young woman sat in it. There was a tightness behind her eyes that indicated she was not lying to Tatiana. A blinding headache was well on its way to becoming a reality. She rose and removed the dress she had struggled so hard to get on. Camille let it fall where it would. Nude, she stripped back the blankets and slipped back into bed.
"Damn modesty to hell!" She blurted out, as she pulled the blanket around her. Camille's dark pleasure in her first curse word got swept away by a stab of pain. A moan escaped her as she reached for her pillow to pull it over her head.
The sun was low in the sky when Camille woke. For all its intensity at the onset, this headache ebbed sooner than she expected. She rubbed her temples and stretched her aching body. The soft linen sheets were cool against her bare skin. Her cheeks tingled with heat as she blushed. She felt embarrassment at her nakedness.
"Enough of that!" With a firm set to her chin, Camille threw back the covers. Since God did not strike her down for cursing, she doubted he would do so for what she intended to do now. Camille rose from the bed. Still naked, she walked into the dressing room. With her arms at her sides, Camille studied herself in the long mirror.
Well, she appeared different without all the layers of clothing. With a giggle, she turned sideways to examine her profile in the glass. It was the first time she looked at her body in the nude. Helena said she had a good figure.
Camille wished she knew what the Juneau woman looked like. She banished the thought before it could take root. Now was not the time to think about the Juneau woman. A headache might return if she were not careful.
With a sigh, Camille looked through her bureau at the underclothing in the drawer. Helena was right. Everything she brought with her proclaimed her a maiden. Cotton shifts with only a hint of lace and under drawers of the same style were all she owned.
Camille slammed the drawer shut in exasperation. Her nightgowns were no better. High necked, long sleeved, all were of fine muslin with embroidered trim. Suitable for Anya, they did nothing for a woman with a husband to please.
A frown drew her dark eyebrows together as she looked around the dressing room. In the wardrobe, Camille took a silent inventory. Things were now looking better in this quarter.
All the dresses she and Helena made were suitable for a married woman. Even the morning dresses differed from any she had worn before. Camille took the ivory muslin dress out and held it in front of her for inspection. How embarrassed she was when trying it on.
It had a tight fitting collar of muslin around the neck. From there, a delicate piece of lace formed the bodice. Just above the swell of her breasts, muslin under laid the lace. Camille held it up against her before turning to gage the effect of the dress in the mirror.
She saw it in a new light. It hugged her waist snugly. At the hip line, it fell away in a full skirt, and it drew attention to her body. What was so wrong with that? Perhaps a little immodesty was a good thing.
Camille took a fresh nightgown from the wardrobe and pulled it on then tugged on the bell cord. She rarely rang for service. It still bothered her that people should be at her beck and call. She preferred going in search of the servants.
When Karin answered her summons, Camille ordered a tray and asked her to tell Helena she would like to see her after dinner. In her soft tone, Karin explained to Camille dinner was almost ready. Everyone had been waiting to see if she would eat in the dining room. Karin assured Camille she would return with the tray as soon as it was ready.
Helena brought up Camille's dinner tray. She settled Camille into bed before placing the tray on the folding lap desk.
"Is your headache gone, Madame?"
Camille took a sip of the fragrant coffee, then nodded. "Is there any of Madame Alexi's clothing left?"
"There are two, or three trunks in the storeroom, I believe. Why do you ask Madame?"
Camille toyed with a fork, twirling the shank between her fingers. "I wish to see the kinds of things she wore. I thought it would give me an idea of what would be proper."
Helena smiled as she nodded her head. "Good. You will see I am right about your clothes, Madame. Madame Alexi was a proper lady, yet always in the height of style. Styles have changed and not for the better I fear. Corsets, which do not allow one to breathe are nonsense. Shall we go through the trunks tomorrow?"
Camille picked at the roast moose and vegetables. She took a few bites, then sipped at the coffee.
"Tomorrow will be fine, Helena." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. "I understand what you meant about my wardrobe."
She placed the cup on the tray and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "I find I am tired, more so than I first thought. Please take this away."
Helena picked up the tray. With a grunt, she started toward the door. Camille smiled. Her maid's back was stiff with disapproval at her mistress's refusal to eat a decent meal.
"Good night, Helena. Sleep well."
Helena turned at the door. The old woman glanced at the nearly full tray of food. "You should have tried to eat more. But I am glad your headache is better, may you sleep well, Madame." The older woman backed out of the door with the tray. The door latched behind her with a soft snick.
Alone again, Camille left the bed. The sun was behind the mountain and the long twilight of a high summer day flooded the clearing. Loneliness gnawed at her. She missed Dmitri.
How could he? They had not been married two months! Already he was spending time with another woman. Camille bit her lower lip as she considered that she had a lot of nerve after having driven him out of the house. If Dmitri felt satisfied with her, he would never have gone off to Juneau.
When she recalled the tone of the letter to Leontine, guilt rose up to chafe her, there was no one but herself to blame. Rectifying the situation would be up to her. The primary task as she saw it was to improve the relationship between herself and her husband.
Camille wandered around her bedroom. It seemed cold tonight, and she felt drained. The headache was partly to blame for her lack of energy. She glanced through the dressing room toward Dmitri's door. Drawn toward it, Camille opened the door and looked around in the twilight.
Dmitri's presence was in every corner of the room. Camille knelt before the fireplace, where she lit the kindling beneath the logs placed there. With her knees pulled to her chin, Camille sat on the fur rug and watched the fire catch. It reminded her of the one perfect night she and Dmitri shared. If they could only return to that night. Camille added a few logs to the grate before rising from the rug.
She walked over to one of the front windows and twitched aside the curtain; Camille stared out to sea. Calm and serene in the
moonlight, it lay before her. Where was Dmitri? When would he come home? He would return to the island soon; he must. She needed him.
Camille walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. Why should she sleep alone in the other room? If she spent the night in his bed, she could pretend he was in it next to her. Camille lifted the blankets and climbed into her husband's bed.
"Come home," She whispered as she pulled the covers over her. The tears burned behind her eyes, and she couldn’t stop the flow, Camille sobbed into the pillow. The sense of loss she tried to ignore engulfed her. He had gone to another woman, and she had foolishly sent him there. Camille cried herself to sleep in Dmitri's big bed.
Camille jerked awake. Dmitri was home. He lay on his side facing her. One muscular arm lay across her body while the other lay beneath her neck. She pushed the fair hair from his forehead with one hand.
Camille saw something of the boy he had been. The cruel curve of his mouth had softened in sleep to just a hint of impishness. The long red-gold eyelashes of his left eye lay against his cheek. What a beautiful child he must have been! One day she must ask Helena how Madame Alexi could cope with the awful injuries he sustained in the mauling.
What would she, Camille, have done in the same circumstance? Would she have had the courage to thank God for sparing his life? Or would she have cried for her baby's lost beauty? Even with money to ease the path, life was hard here. Dmitri was right, this was a harsh land, one must be cautious at all times.
Camille freed herself from Dmitri's embrace and without disturbing him, left the bed. The small clock on the mantel said ten till nine. It was time she was up and about. But what would she say to Dmitri when he woke?
That thought stopped Camille in her tracks. After turning away from the dressing room door, Camille walked back over to the bed. There she stared at her husband from the foot of the bed and tried to decide what would be the best course.
Should she go on as usual? Yes, she must. Juneau would not be mentioned by her. If her husband brought up the change of destination, she would wait and see what he disclosed.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 20