by Unknown
Salam, who was distracted by Catherine’s idiotic behavior, simply returned the nod.
“And of course, you already know Lil’ Louis.”
Lil’ Louis seemed even more overwhelmed by the recent events than Virginie. His mouth open, he looked questioningly at Salam, while shooting meaningful looks in the direction of Amélie, Isabelle and Catherine. Virginie knit her lovely golden eyebrows in confusion. Something very mysterious was happening here and she began to feel like an unwilling actress playing a part in a very bad play.
“Where is the Count of Croz?” She asked noticing his absence.
“Oh, my brother is a little tired. He’s gone to bed and will probably snore through the day. Don’t you think so, Catherine?”
Catherine did not seem to appreciate Isabelle’s teasing remarks and was about to respond when Amélie stood up.
“Ladies, let us return to rest at the castle and leave the men to do the same here.”
Virginie and Isabelle obediently followed her out to the cobblestone courtyard where Amélie halted her troops like a sergeant on a battlefield.
“Catherine! Come my child,” she called with a voice of authority.
The beautiful, tall young woman with jet-black hair appeared in the doorway. Virginie found it difficult not to laugh at her petulance. The idea of accompanying the other women up to the castle did not seem to please her in the least.
“I am perfectly alright here, my… aunt.”
“Now, now,” Amélie replied with a voice of authority, “You must consider your reputation, my dear. To the castle, immediately!”
Isabelle was stifling her laughter and shooting teasing looks at Catherine who responded by sticking out her tongue. Then she hung her head and shook it as if feeling sorry for herself. The group started back in direction of the castle.
As they left the courtyard, Amélie called out over her shoulder, “Lil’ Louis, I’ll expect you in my office at precisely four o’clock!”
“Ya, Madame Amélie,” he replied with a sigh.
And here was yet another mystery. Virginie could not imagine what the old man could possibly be reproached with. There was something very fishy happening on the isle, ever since the return of an invisible Kalaan and Virginie swore she would uncover the truth before the end of her stay. As for Catherine, what an outrageous woman!
Where on earth did she come from? How did she end up traveling with Kalaan? Virginie couldn’t leave now. Her curiosity had been aroused; plus she still had to wait for a letter from the detective she hired. No matter what, she was safer on Croz than alone in Paris.
Now it was time to rest.
Chapter 9
An almost perfect dinner
“Tarnation! Are you going to stop going on about petticoats and hairpins? Just leave me alone!”
The commotion pulled Virginie out of a deep sleep. Wan and disoriented, she sat up in bed. Her eyelids were heavy and at first she couldn’t remember where she was. It took her a few minutes to recognize the room and remember she was on the Isle of Croz. The little marble and bronze clock on her bedside table showed 1 o’clock. She had slept less than 4 hours; what on earth was happening now?
The shouting from the room next to hers answered her question. People were arguing and she immediately recognized the voices of Isabelle and Catherine, but also, the more subdued voice of a young maidservant.
“But, Miss, please,” she pleaded,” The countess instructed us to…”
“I really could not care less what she instructed!” Catherine ranted, “Whosoever dares to dress me in those rags risks knowing the edge of my sword.”
When she heard a frightened scream and the sound of a stampede in the hallway, Virginie decided to leave the warmth of her bed. She pulled on her dressing gown and slippers.
“You’re stubborn as a mule!” This time it was Isabelle’s voice.
“I would like to see you in my position!”
“But I am, and have been ever since I was born. Dressing in women’s clothing won’t kill you.”
What an extraordinary discussion, Virginie said to herself. She had just gone out to the hall, and noticed an open door, not far from hers.
“Never! Give me Maden’s old clothes if I cannot have my own!”
“Mother gave all of Father’s clothes to the needy when he passed away.”
Virginie was completely confused now. She could not understand Catherine’s attitude. She had absolutely no manners! As a guest in her aunt’s home she should be more polite and respectful. She certainly shouldn’t be swearing left and right or screaming like a wildcat.
“In that case, I will go around in my under garments.”
“You wouldn’t!” Isabelle was starting to worry.
“You think not? Just watch me!”
Virginie had the privilege of watching as well. Catherine walked out of her room wearing nothing more than an incredibly indecent knee-length transparent chambray shirt.
Suddenly, there was a racket behind her back that made Virginie jump. She spun around to see a young valet, his cheeks on fire. He was kneeling, trying to pick up the shattered pieces of the dishes he’d been carrying.
“I will bring you more refreshments, immediately,” he murmured just before disappearing down the stairs.
“He looked like he had just seen a ghost,” commented Catherine who seemed to be thoroughly amused. She winked at Virginie, who turned to look at her.
“Not a ghost, no. Only an insolent minx,” Virginie curtly replied.
“Insolent? Me?” Catherine simpered as she walked up to Virginie with a mischievous smile.
Virginie’s eyes widened. She wondered if the cousin could possibly be dallying with her. What Catherine said next confirmed her fears.
“You are such a pretty little thing, when you are fresh out of bed, as delectable as forbidden fruit.”
“Th...thank you,” Virginie managed to say. She was confused by her reaction, feeling both bewildered and strangely troubled.
“Catherine! Stop bothering Ginny and come here immediately!” Isabelle, close to losing her temper, appeared at the door and took her by the arm. “A ‘lady’ does not behave in such a manner,” she added calmly, shooting warning looks at her cousin.
This seemed to have a cooling effect on Catherine, for she said a few juicy words before turning around and returning to her own room.
“Please accept my apologies for her, my dear Ginny.” Isabelle turned to follow her cousin back to her room.
“No dresses,” shouted Catherine slamming the door in Isabelle’s face.
Isabelle leaned with her forehead against the door and sighed. She couldn’t take much more. Seeing her friend so distraught, Virginie took her in her arms.
“You and your mother should send her back home,” Virginie gently suggested. “The woman is unbearable.”
“If only it were possible,” Isabelle moaned. But then she smiled brightly and added “Pay no heed to her. Catherine was raised surrounded by men. She’s spoiled rotten and a Croz to boot!”
“Well the members of your family do tend towards strong character,” Virginie said in an amused tone. She smiled and winked at Isabelle.
“Oh, yes indeed. We have our share of pirates in the family, as well as blue-bloods. And I’m sure it’s the same for you, Ginny!”
The young women laughed together, remembering the foolish things they would secretly do in the past and left each other in the hallway, one went to see the dowager countess and the other returned to her room to prepare for dinner[50], which would be at exactly 2 o’clock.
After Virginie’s bath, Gwendoline, her chambermaid, came in to help her dress and do her hair up in a twisted bun.
“There is a lot of hustle and bustle in the castle, Mam’selle,” she observed joyfully as she put the last hairpin in Virginie’s copper-gold hair.
“And I think I know the cause — Her Majesty Catherine.”
Gwendoline giggled. “For sure! She is our only
subject of conversation in the service quarters; everyone has a story to tell!”
Gwendoline had been in Virginie’s service for almost five years and they were very close. The chambermaid, in her forties was plump and always had a jovial smile on her face. Her red hair was always neatly tucked under her starched cotton cap and her clothes were always immaculate.
“Some say they don’t know her and others say they’ve seen her on the isle, but don’t remember who her father was.”
“What do you mean?” Virginie, surprised by this information, looked at her reflection in the mirror, where her gray-blue eyes sparkled back at her.
“Well, Mam’selle, the old count, Lord Maden, of Croz, had no brother, but he did have several first cousins. And no one knows which of them is Mam’selle Wildca...uh... Catherine’s father.” Gwendoline corrected herself, but not fast enough. Virginie broke out laughing.
“I have an idea we will not be bored.”
“For sure! Oh, you look so lovely.” Gwendoline admired her young mistress who straightened up on her seat. “It’s nice to see you wearing bright colors again. Your father would not have liked to see you forever dressed in black, like a raven.”
“My dear father…” Virginie murmured, containing her emotion with difficulty. “You’re right Gwendoline, and that is why I chose this blue dress. It was his favorite color.”
Virginie was wearing a magnificent cerulean blue velvet dress with delicate lacework and embroidery in a much lighter color on her bodice and around her neckline, opening out onto her shoulders. The same color trimmings were on her sleeves that puffed out at the top and slowly tapered down to be much tighter at the wrist.[51].
The lavish bell shaped skirt was shortened at the hem to reveal booted ankles and the beautifully embroidered crossed bodice showed off Virginie’s slender waist. Around her neck she wore her mother’s delicate gold chain with a sapphire from Ceylon, carved in the shape of a drop. From her ears, hung two more almost identical stones. Gwendoline, who had gone to the wardrobe, returned to adjust the beautiful cotton and lace scarf necessary to cover the deep plunging neckline of her bodice, in Virginie’s mind one of the biggest disadvantages of the ‘romantic’ style. Finally, she was ready to go downstairs, join her hosts in the sitting room and… face Kalaan.
In the next room Kalaan was just getting out of his bath, a towel wrapped around his female body. He went over to the chair where he’d left his men’s clothes lying and he froze, swearing fiercely. He then shouted out into the hall.
“Isabelle, you pest!”
His sister, it could only have been her, had waited until he was in the bath to go into his room and take his clothes! In their place now lay undergarments, stockings, petticoats a corset, a hideous thick black wool dress and boots that looked far too small for his feet. These were Grandmother Anna’s clothes!
Of course Isabelle never appeared, despite his calling for her. Kalaan started blaspheming. The way he looked at the horrible clothes reeking of mothballs, they could just as well have been a heap of sheep manure.
“You wish to play, dear sister? Then play we shall,” he said throwing his damp towel to the floor.
How difficult could it be to put all these things on? After all, he had helped many women get undressed, so he had some idea how they worked. Kalaan took the petticoats and began jumping up and down. It turned out to be impossible. He found himself battling with the clothing as would have with the English enemy. There was the sound of fabric tearing, but he did finally manage to put the dress on. Indeed, his grandmother and Catherine were the same size in clothes. However, ‘big-footed Anna’s’ boots were too small. Kalaan’s toes were squeezed in so tightly they felt like over-stuffed sausages, ready to burst. He found it very difficult to pull on the boots over his bare feet, because he refused to wear any stockings. Kalaan walked very carefully to the door and nearly twisted his ankle a dozen times.
“Blasted heels! Oops!” He continued to rant as he grabbed the door handle to prevent himself from falling.
Just before leaving, he looked around the room and realized he’d forgotten something on the chair - the corset. His beautiful full-lipped mouth broke into a smile. And a great feeling of joy came over him as he left his apartments for dinner. His mother and sister would be proud of him, and return his own clothes before the end of the day. Blazes! He was so hungry, he could eat a horse!
Everyone was already seated at the table in the big dining room. The dowager countess sat at the head with Virginie and Isabelle on her right. On her left were Salam and an empty place setting. The only people missing from the table were Kalaan and Catherine — two people for one place setting, which was very strange as it meant that only one of them was expected. At Amélie’s discrete signal, the butler had the servants serve the first course, a delicious, creamy fish soup.
Amélie slowly sipped the warm liquid, enjoying every spoonful. Everyone else followed suit, and was eating in silence according to proper etiquette, when all at once they heard a huge ruckus in the entrance hall.
Virginie’s heart jumped in her chest and she looked towards the double doors, spoon in mid air. She secretly hoped Kalaan would appear, but that was not to be. One of the doors opened and Catherine appeared, her dark hair disheveled and her cheeks red from effort. She looked around the room, livid.
“Please forgive me for being late,” she said in her lovely crystalline voice, “but these confounded boots are pure torture and almost made me fall down the stairs. Please, continue your meal and pay no heed to me!”
Once again, Virginie had to hold back her laughter; she put her hand to her mouth and gave a little cough. Salam, on the other side of the table also found it difficult to control himself. He was still wearing his cheich and traditional clothes, but his mouth was uncovered revealing lips that were curled in a slight smirk and his dark eyes were sparkling with humor.
Isabelle and Amélie were overcome with indignation and made no effort to hide it. They both gasped in horror when Catherine pulled out her chair, deliberately scraping it on hardwood floor. Why hadn’t they thought to put the rug back after the room was cleaned? The unbearable young woman took her seat on Salam’s left, just across from Virginie. Grabbing both sides of the chair, she slid it forward until she was close enough that her chest was touching the table and could place her elbows and hands on the tablecloth. Leaning over to grin at her aunt, there was a loud sound of fabric ripping. Virginie had to lower her head to hide her smile when she saw Salam lean backwards to look at Catherine’s back and hold back a chuckle. The scene was so surprisingly comical; Virginie had never seen anyone act in this manner, and most certainly not a woman of proper upbringing. Catherine sat up straight and, still grinning idiotically, looked at everyone around the table. When her eyes crossed Virginie’s, Catherine winked.
“May we serve, Madame?” Clovis, the bald headed ceremonious butler had been with the family for many years.
“Please do,” Amélie assented while shooting admonishing looks at her niece.
A young servant placed a dish of the soup in front of Catherine, but jumped back when she slapped him heartily on the back saying, “Thank you my good man!”
After which she dipped her spoon in the soup, brought it up to her mouth and made a loud slurping noise. She continued in this manner, and when she got to the bottom of the dish she noisily scraped the rest of the soup with her spoon.
“Kal... Catherine!” Amélie, was furious and almost called her son by his name.
“Yes, Aunt?” Catherine replied, innocently.
Amélie decided to address Salam instead, so she turned to him and smiled politely. “Are you well rested, sir?”
“I could not sleep in the wardrobe, Madame, but your rugs are of excellent quality and served well as a mattress.”
“In the wardrobe… and you slept on the …rugs?” Amélie was stammering in amazement and Isabelle quietly laughed.
“I believe, Mr. Salam was speaking of the Breton
bed, mother.”
Virginie bit her hand again to keep from smiling. Salam thought the Breton style cabinet bed was a wardrobe! How adorable, and yet hilarious at the same time!
“Mmm... yes... So… you participated in all of my son’s adventures in Egypt, I believe. That must have been fascinating.”
“I was never bored, Madame.” The Tuareg’s reply was short and simple. Apparently, it was not simple to start a discussion with him so Virginie tried another approach.
“Will the count not be joining us?”
Keeping her eyes on Catherine, Isabelle quickly replied. “My brother can only go out during the night.”
“Oh? Really?” Catherine asked raising an eyebrow and scratching her head as if she had lice.
“Yes,” Isabelle replied, squirming at Salam’s piercing expression. “He has a problem with his eyes and he cannot go out in daylight— something to do with the bright Egyptian sun. But he will recover, won’t he Mr. Salam?”
“Or not,” replied the Tuareg who hated lying, but also enjoyed making Isabelle feel uncomfortable and watching her blush.
The meal continued in this manner, monologues, strange glances and outraged expressions, exchanged among Catherine, Isabelle and Amélie. When the young cousin grabbed a piece of chicken from the platter and gustily bit into it, Virginie thought she’d burst into laughter again. Later she almost lectured Catherine when she wiped her greasy fingers on the front of her horrible dress.
It was not her role to teach the young woman proper manners. But she could take the cousin under her wing and show her how to behave like a lady. Yes, Virginie liked the idea! She would teach Catherine how to act like a lady.
Amélie stood after dessert and the others followed suit… except for the wildcat. She was busy licking her plate to get these last of the melted chocolate.
“You may go about your business; feel free to do whatever you wish.” Amélie held her long slender fingers on her temples.
Salam bowed and slowly walked out of the room, shooting a stunned look at his friend. He had never seen Kalaan act with so little dignity. The count was not an easy person, but he was not a pig either. Virginie followed Salam out but stopped in the entrance hall to wait for Isabelle. The servants went by carrying the dishes followed by the butler who had a disdainful look about him.
