The herald called out in a clear voice, “The Mistress Helena Brandywine and escort,” if Sigmund had not been standing next to her, Helena would’ve backed away from the stairs. Suddenly she felt tiny, sure every eye in the ballroom was glued on her entrance. She would’ve been right, the combination of her late arrival and her bright crimson gown a washed in a sea of pastels, white, and black made her an instant beacon. She studied the ocean of white faces all dressed in formalwear trying to hide behind little leather masks. She felt Sigmund begin to step down the stairs, and she followed him, only to discover he stopped and let her make the entrance alone. She had never been so happy in her life for a small piece of leather and feathers covering her face to hide her blush.
She had barely descended the steps when a familiar voice spoke to her from the side in a loud whisper, “Have you found Missy?” Minnie ran up to her before she knew what had happened.
“Minnie? Is that you?” Helena’s head swam, too many new sensations bombarding her at once.
“Of course, have you found Missy?”
“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t found her yet, but I haven’t given up. I just needed to meet the Count.”
“I know, isn’t this about the most exciting thing that’s ever happened?” before the two women could discuss matters much further a tall, thin young man with curly black hair came up and grabbed Minnie’s hand.
“I think you owe me this dance, Miss.” Minnie didn’t fight much as he led her to the dance floor, a waltz just beginning.
“It appears your friend has an admirer,” Sigmund said as he walked up beside her offering his arm.
She took it but kept a firm grip on her cane with her left hand. “She doesn’t seem too concerned that I’m not out looking for Missy. I feel bad that we haven’t found her yet.”
“Miss, you must come to the realization that you may never find her, or that if we do find her, she may not be alive.”
“I know Sigmund, I hoped that by some miracle we might find her. But now I’m not so sure,” barely finishing her sentence, the band stopped playing the waltz and began performing the Russian National Anthem.
Helena turned to face the stairs she had recently descended, advancing only a few paces into the ballroom. What she saw at the top of the stairs was probably the most exotic looking pair she had ever seen. The Count’s clothing fashioned as much a uniform as a tuxedo, two rows of gold buttons reflecting the subdued lighting. A purple sash that ran across his jacket covering his broad chest loaded with metals, Helena didn’t understand their significance, but they looked impressive. The Count had to be six-foot-two or taller. The woman on the man’s arm was nearly his height, both wore masks, but she could tell from her bare arms that her flesh looked as if it had never been touched by the sun.
Men bowed, and women curtsied as the Count and Countess walked by. Most bowed silently as the royalty passed. The Count walked right towards Helena. She knew the Count paraded her way unswervingly, for a moment she thought their eyes met, her heart raced. Why would this nobleman pick her out from San Francisco’s elite?
Her body froze in anticipation as he approached and their eyes locked, his eyes golden like a cat’s, a predator. Then her body seized in horror as the Count and his sister passed her by. Her green eyes darted side to side catching everyone around had bowed down to the royals, except her escort, Sigmund standing behind her. At that moment she became too mortified to do anything but stand thinking. Stupid little girl, you are such a child. Her cheeks crimson, if not covered by her mask, would betray her inner and outward shame, while matching her dress perfectly.
Those around her started to stand as the royal couple ascended the stairs to the stage to be welcomed by the Mayor and the Governor of California.
“Sigmund, did you bring any of that brandy? I could sure use some now,” Helena whispered.
“You are doing fine. Remember, we don’t recognize royalty in this country, you don’t need to follow the herd to be correct in your decisions,” Sigmund assured her.
Helena did her best to blend back into the crowd milling about. Sure, she had made a total fool of herself; she even ducked from Lane when he saw him having an in-depth conversation with an elegant older woman, assuredly above Lane’s more common social standing.
The dancing continued, but she had lost all interest in the party and the royals. Everyone at the party seemed so fake, so superficial, she felt if they busted any of the revelers open they would be hollow shells.
She was considering asking Sigmund to leave when a man walked up to her. Ready to be asked to dance, she anticipated the man’s words, a surprise hit her when he spoke.
“My lord the Count wishes to speak with you on the terrace,” the man said, his Russian accent flowing through his English.
Without looking back to Sigmund, Helena found her voice quick to answer, “Of course! I would love to meet the Count.”
The messenger led Helena and Sigmund out the French doors to the right of the bandstand. Reaching the threshold and gazing outside, Helena saw the moon playing hide and seek behind the buttermilk clouds. Oil lanterns providing illumination on the ocean-side of the building. There, less than twenty paces away, stood the Count, alone, at the rail overlooking Seal Rock. She stepped towards him and was directly stopped by two guards with rifles and bayonets.
“Let her pass,” the voice drifted towards her, as if propelled by the wind, smooth as warm honey it drew her to him. The guards removed their bayonet barrier from her path but lowered it again, keeping Sigmund from joining her.
Helena glided to the rail placing her hands on it she gazed at the dark abyss hundreds of feet to the crashing waves below.
“You wanted to see me?” Helena stammered the words out, this wasn’t going at all as she had planned. Her words just felt jumbled.
“Yes, I grew curious as to who might be so bold to stand when everyone else bowed when I entered. Then I was informed it was no less than Helena Brandywine. The name sounded familiar, so I wanted to speak with you to see if our paths had crossed before.”
Helena considered the Count’s hand resting on the rail next to her, she couldn’t help but notice his hand showed so pale against his black sleeve under the veiled moonlight. Before she answered, the Count continued.
“I was glad to see someone with courage at this soiree with so many sheep in attendance. It is good to find people of character still exist. I was beginning to think this trip to America was going to be passé,” The Count had a discernible accent, but he ended his sentences like Sigmund did.
“I think you give me too much credit, I was just so surprised. I forgot what I was doing.”
“You should know, that which does not kill us makes us stronger?”
“That is a brutal thought.”
“Is from a philosopher named Frederick Nietzsche, you should read his books. He has an amazing insight into the human condition.”
“I don’t understand, what do you mean the human condition?”
“I have been led to believe that you are one of the richest women in California, yet you do nothing to enjoy your riches. I am curious why you live such a cloistered life.”
“I never realized I lead such an existence. I’m not a nun if that’s what you’re saying.”
“No, we can discuss your virginity later. What I was suggesting is you live a simple life. You could be traveling the world like I am enjoying your wealth.”
“I never thought about it, I like my life here in San Francisco.”
“Is there nothing you would want to change?”
Helena let her eyes wander from the ocean over the Count’s right hand and then up to his golden eyes. How can someone have eyes that color? She thought, “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”
The Count’s hand slowly catching her elbow turning her to face the French doors which lined the terrace. Inside the elite of San Francisco danced, completely ignoring the pair as they stood in the sof
t light conversing, “Nietzsche believes that humans live with a herd mentality. Most of our laws, our religion, the very morals we are brought up believing in, is the more common people of the world trying to hold back the few exceptional people. Do you want to be one of the herd, or do you want to be exceptional?”
“I’ve seen so much pain the past two days I don’t know if I can forget it. Why do people need to be so cruel to one another?”
“Because genuinely extraordinary people have nothing in common with the mundane refuse. The very names indicate a difference.”
“But I’ve seen so much evil, so many things that can be changed.”
“You must be careful, the longer you stare into the abyss, the abyss will change you.”
Helena said, “You said you thought you knew me, but I know we’ve never met,” trying to change the subject.
“No, I was mistaken. I see no possible way it could’ve been you. I saw a great man lecture at Cambridge a few years ago. He had your last name and a great bushy fiery beard. When I first learned your name, I thought you might be related, but after speaking to you, I don’t think so. The man spoke of many wondrous things, adventure, and how the earth is doomed because of the common people. I don’t think he was related to you.”
“No, I’m sorry my father has been gone for some time, and from what I understand he would not be lecturing at Cambridge.”
“I’m sorry to hear that I thought we might be brothers and sisters, bound together by ideals.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
Ludmila, the Countess Stroganov sashayed past the guards and Sigmund approaching the pair as they spoke.
“Alexei dear, have you found a new pet for our trip around America?” Ludmila said, then walked up and placed her left arm around Alexei’s waist giving her brother a passionate kiss more suitable for lovers than siblings.
“No, my darling, I was simply discussing philosophy with this young lady. It appears we both hold a love of Nietzsche.”
“Alexei, you bore people with your philosophy. Just tell her the world is coming to an end, and we should live and have a good time while we can.”
“What do you mean the world is coming to an end?”
“Just as she said, if you read the Bible it will be here any day. I plan on leaving this earth with a smile on my face. One way or another I’m going to be enjoying myself when I die.”
“You’re the second person in two days that told me the world was coming to an end. Should I believe it?”
“Everything ends dear, Christ did say he would return it has been a thousand years since the Romans and the Jews killed him. It makes sense that he would come back that the prophecies of the revelations would be a roadmap to the world.”
“But that’s insane, I have too many things to do before the world ends. I, I think the world can be a better place. There has to be more than what you offer.”
“We offer a new physical delight at every turn, pleasures of the body, mind and the soul are our specialties,” Ludmila’s lips spreading into a seductive smile.
“What you offer sounds strangely appealing. I need to think over what you told me,” Helena took two steps back away from the royal couple.
“You can only think for so long. We leave one week from tonight. It will be glorious the full moon over our heads as we take off for our next destination,” said Ludmila.
The Count finished, “I invite you to join us, we offer many things. Remember one thing before you go fighting monsters, you must take care lest you become one yourself,” the royal pair pushed off from the rail and strolled to the two guards holding Sigmund back. The royal couple secured inside the Cliff House, the guards released Sigmund to confer with Helena.
“What did that bloody bastard say?” Sigmund’s accent reverted to his childhood manner of speaking before he caught himself and spoke in a more refined toned.
“Did that man hurt you?” he said after straightening his vest.
“No, he talked a lot of philosophy. I didn’t understand most of it. He said he knew me or knew my family, someone that used to lecture in Cambridge.”
“It couldn’t be your father, he never as far as I know, lectured at University. Perhaps your grandfather, he did study and teach in England, but I was serving in India then. However, it couldn’t be your grandfather, that royal ass is much too young to have attended your grandfather’s lectures.”
“I don’t know, I feel lightheaded after our conversation. I’m going to go sit down on that bench, might you bring me something to drink?” she said as she pointed towards a bench only thirty paces away.
Helena made her way to a darker part of the terrace out of sight of the bright ballroom lights shining from behind the many panes of glass. Sigmund helped her find a comfortable place to sit.
“If I didn’t know better, I would swear those two are some sort of soul-sucking creatures. Mistress, I will find you something to drink and be back presently,” Sigmund said hurrying into the ballroom.
Helena sat there in the dark listening to the sound of the surf crashing on the rocks below, the fresh ocean air washing over her helped calm her swimming head after the conversation with the two Royals. Pulling out her only clue and spinning it in her hands, she contemplated the cork and Missy’s fate. Was she wasting her time? If the end of the world was coming, maybe she should enjoy her life a little more than she had? She sat on the bench pondering her life and the future, waiting for Sigmund to return with something to drink when she noticed the strangest thing. Down below her, she witnessed a procession of torches snaking its way down the cliff stairs marching towards the saltwater Suttor Baths.
The Baths:
When Adolph Suttor built his saltwater Baths below the Cliff House, he used the natural curve of the bluff and a hollow formed by erosion to construct them. The Cliff House sat on a point sticking out into the ocean toward Seal Rock. The lights that Helena watched moved at least three hundred yards along the coast.
Helena turned trying to find someone to show the odd display of torches across the chasm. She saw an older gentleman limping along with the assistance of a cane the tip clicking on the flagstones as he approached. Before he got too close, he began speaking.
“Good evening Miss Brandywine, you and I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting, but I’ve known your family for some time. I am Adolph Suttor,” the stranger introduced himself.
Helena had never met the man before though she knew the name immediately. The man behind the name, built the Cliff House and the Baths below, not to mention owning most of the property from the Presidio to the Pacific Ocean. He was the wealthiest man in California, possibly even the western half the United States.
“Mister Suttor, someone is heading towards the Baths with torches, they might be trying to destroy your building,” Helena said pointing at the lights so far away.
“No honey, those are the survivors. They come here once a month customarily on a Friday night.”
“Why would anyone want to come here on a Friday night?”
“I would like to think the inn is a nice place to visit.”
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to offend, I love it here, so luxurious. I meant why would anyone be here with torches and so late at night. It should be obvious the party is here.”
“We are very close to the Golden Gate. There are many ships that never reach San Francisco Harbor, many of them end up on the rocks below. The water is cold down there, and the surf is unforgiving. Sailors and passengers that go into the water off the coast here never come back. The cold black water rarely gives up the dead. Those lights you see down there, they are survivors of shipwrecks and the loved ones of people who’ve been lost at sea. They gather in the Baths once a month as a safe, warm place to pay respect. That is not entirely true, some come to pay respect for family surviving, some come to mourn the loss of loved ones, and some come to give thanks for being spared a watery death.”
&nb
sp; “But what do they do, is it like church?”
“It gives them a sense of belonging, of shared pain, think of it as a community. I rent the Cliff House and the Baths to several organizations, some are private parties some public. Like those people in there,” he motioned to inside the ballroom. “Like it or not they are members of your tribe, like your extended family.”
“I don’t even know those people, I know nothing about them, I don’t think they know a thing about me.”
“You would be surprised. Many of them, like myself, knew your parents and your grandparents. I would say many of them going back over fifty years. Back to the gold rush.”
Helena considered the cork nestled her hands. “I don’t even know my family, it seems my Stepfather didn’t want me to know anything.”
“I am sure your stepfather has his reasons. The question is when are you going to be ready to take your rightful place in your community?”
“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean?” Helena looked up at the old man innocent eyes glistening with almost tears.
“Some people think I am the richest person in the city. I let them believe whatever they want. Like I said, I knew your grandfather. I know he comes from old money in Scotland. Money isn’t the only measure of life, but it is a very accurate one. When will you wed and enter your proper social circle? You would be a princess among those cretins in there,” he gestured with his hand to the people dancing.
“I don’t think I want to be like them. I haven’t seen anything that makes me want to join them.”
“You sound like so many young people, always trying to change the world.”
“You don’t think the world needs changing?”
“I think no matter what people do, there will be those that take control of their lives and those that blame others for their situations,” he sat down beside her before continuing.
“I thought up an idea. My idea made many people rich, those people made many more people rich, the money trickled down to the lowest worker. Without me, those people would have no jobs. It is not my fault I gathered an immense fortune, making others wealthy.”
Pretty Waiter Girls Page 8
