Behind the Raven Mask

by Cherime MacFarlane

  "Enough, if you please. As I recall, you have voiced your opinion on the subject a fair amount of times, whether I wished to hear it or not."

  Dmitri shook his head. "Several years, I think nine to be precise, have gone by, since you took care of my mother. Do you still recall the duties necessary to manage these things competently?"

  Her smile was only slightly dampened. "Yes, well. Styles have changed; I am aware of it. The basic needs of a lady do remain the same, regardless of changes in fashion."

  "Quite right. After this last trip, I can certainly tell you in the intervening years, fashion has passed us by. I will do what I can on the matter. Arrangements will be made for cloth and other items to be sent up for Madame Camille. There are different periodicals, which will help. I will acquire those as well.

  "Now, go and wake Madam. Remind her, she is to give me a list of the things she will need to be sent up. Perhaps you two will give me an idea of what kinds of material, color and what not, you would like. Please inform her, we will have a guest for dinner. "

  Dmitri could tell by the smile on Helena's face how anxious she was to meet Camille. But he did want her to be aware of Camille's need for a friend. "I know you will do your best for Camille. You were more a friend and confidant to Mother than a maid. I hope the two of you can be friends. It will be difficult for her here, and she will need a friend."

  With a broad smile, the woman inclined her head toward Dmitri. Helena left his room by way of the dressing room. On opening the door, she cautiously peered into the other room. Finding her mistress sleeping, Helena let herself in quietly.

  Gently, she shook Camille's shoulder. "Wake up, Madam. There is quite a lot to be accomplished."

  Camille stirred. As she slowly came awake, she yawned and pushed herself up into a sitting position on the chaise.

  Helena noted she was awake with a nod of approval. "The Count wants you to know there will be a guest for dinner tonight."

  Camille watched the stout little woman rush about. Where has this busy little creature come from? Camille asked herself.

  Delicately, the woman stuck a finger into the water pitcher. "Cold! I shall take care of that." She tugged on the bell cord sharply. The older woman then went to inspect the contents of Camille's trunk.

  A few moments later, the young girl who had delivered the first pitcher of water dashed into the room.

  "Here now. I want some warm water for Madam. Hurry back with this Karin, it would not do to displease Madam this early on. Be sure to tap on the door in future. You are not to just enter without leave."

  The older woman handed the pitcher to Karin, who glanced at Camille as if to confirm the other woman's statement. Camille smiled at Karin. With a bob of her head, the young maid sped off.

  "What is your name?" Camille asked the energetic woman, who was now hanging clothes in the wardrobe. Camille hoped to put off the moment when she would have to leave the comfort of the chaise.

  "Helena, Madam. Did I not tell you?"

  "No, you did not, nor did you give me an opportunity to ask. You have been talking from the moment I awoke."

  Unaffected by the comment, Helena smiled at Camille. "Sorry Madam. I do sometimes forget small things, especially when there is so much to do." With one hand, Helena waved about her. "Is this the entire contents of your wardrobe, Madam?"

  "Truthfully, I was not planning on a long stay in Alaska. It was to be only a short visit."

  "When I was a girl, Madam Alexi never traveled with less than two trunks and myself."

  Here was someone who would talk to her about Dmitri. Perhaps Helena would tell her all the history of the Bressoff family. The plump woman could be just the companion she needed as she adjusted to her new life.

  Amazed that she had drifted off to sleep, Camille swung her legs over the edge of the chaise. Camille discovered she was a bit stronger, and there were no new aches or pains. It appeared sleep was the curative she needed.

  A tapping on the door interrupted Helena's activities. She opened the door to Karin, who carefully carried in the water pitcher, then placed it on the washstand. With a short curtsy in Camille's direction and a quick glance over at Helena, Karin waited for further orders by the door.

  The maid waved her on her way. "Very good. Now off with you."

  With another wave of her hand, Helena herded Camille into the dressing room where she began to fuss over her. Camille was powdered, perfumed and brushed. When Helena was satisfied with Camille's hairstyle, the maid shooed her back into the bedroom and seated her at the secretary.

  "The Count wishes a list of those things you may need. I am very sure he means all things you might find not only necessary but also entertaining. Perhaps some books or embroidery materials, or what have you. And of course, you should list any personal items still in San Francisco. While you take care of the list, I will press your dress."

  Helena hurried out of the room with the beige gown over her arm.

  Camille puzzled over what she should put on the list Dmitri had requested. Finally, she decided to put on it whatever she felt necessary for her comfort for the next few months. If a boat were the only means of transportation, who knew how long it would be between supply runs. Camille decided not to leave anything out. Once finished with the list, she began the arduous task of writing to Leontine.

  What to tell her aunt, was the primary problem. She certainly did not want to alarm Leontine. There was no reason to worry her. Her new husband might be a volatile, temperamental person, yet she did not think he was dangerous.

  If indeed he was, there was little either she or Leontine would be able to do about it. A husband had complete control over his wife and family. Discipline was meted out as he chose.

  She described the scenery to Leontine, along with what little she had seen of the house. Devins' part in the entire situation was played down. It would do no good to ferment trouble between Leontine and her uncle. Camille only noted her uncle had conducted the ceremony. In a post script, she asked Leontine if she would please send along the few possessions still in her old room.

  Her maid returned with the gown just as Camille placed her signature on the letter to her aunt. Helena urged her to stand up. The older woman carefully dropped the dress over her head and fastened the buttons. The entire time, she was bubbling over with praise for Camille's lovely complexion and marvelous hair.

  "You have done a beautiful job on my hair Helena. It looks quite elegant."

  Camille was pleased with the way she looked in the full length mirror which hung in the dressing room. Helena had arranged her hair in four thick braids, which intertwined, on top of her head. A few soft curls edged Camille's face.

  "Lovely Madam!" Helena clapped her hands in delight. "It was an inspiration, attaching ribbons to this dress. It makes all the difference."

  Camille looked down at the dress in the mirror. The little half sleeves of the gown had been gathered, then tied with crimson bows where the yoke began in front. She turned from side to side, noting there were bows in the same place on the back of the dress.

  The ribbon pulled the neckline down far enough to make Camille blush. Another bow had been sewn in the front and gathered in the center of the neck, allowing the rounded tops of her breast to be seen. Camille turned away from her reflection in the mirror.

  Do you think this is proper? I am almost bare." Camille's voice shook just a bit.

  With a light laugh, Helena tied a piece of matching ribbon about Camille's neck. "You are a grown woman. You have a fine figure. Do not be ashamed of it, use it, Madam."

  Neither of them had heard the door to Dmitri's room open.

  "Thank you, Helena. I see your memory and skills are as good as ever."

  Startled, Camille turned to face him. Dmitri stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her. His smile was almost undecipherable. For a moment, Camille felt trapped. It was as if she was a butterfly or a trophy head, attached to a board for his enjoyment. Hastily, Camille lo
wered her eyes, then turned away from him.

  Dmitri began to laugh. He appeared to be amused by her discomfort.

  Angrily, Camille turned, head held high, she glared at him. "Stop that!" Picking up her skirt in both hands, she stamped her foot in frustration.

  "Forgive me, dear." Dmitri struggled to control himself. "I honestly was not laughing at you."

  Realizing what she had dared, Camille began to quake inwardly. She was lucky he was amused by her response, instead of becoming angry at her display of pique.

  "You are forgiven." Straining to hold onto her dignity, Camille left the dressing room, closing the door gently behind her. Amazed at herself, she sank into the nearest chair in a fit of shakes. Whatever had gotten into her?

  Dmitri beckoned Helena into his room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Dmitri began to roar with laughter. Perplexed, Helena stared at him. When Dmitri was able to restrain himself, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

  "You have done an excellent job. Continue. If you feel the need of assistance, take whoever you think well qualified as a helper. Please feel free to inform me of anything you may need."

  "Of course. Madam has promise as a great beauty. Her clothing." Helena pursed her lips. "Pale washed out colors, do not do her justice. Those things are for children Anya's age."

  "I entirely agree. What would you suggest?"

  Helena's eyes shone. "With her dark hair, pure colors, crimson, emerald green, royal blue and black. Colors to make her stand out."

  "On the list Madam prepares, note the colors you think most appropriate, as well as the type of material. Also, I want exact measurements, leave nothing out. Shoe, hat and glove size as well. There are many things, which can be made here, others will have to come from Seattle or San Francisco. Let me have the list by morning. You may go now. Once again, thank you."

  His laughter was not at Camille, but at the thought of what her uncle would think at the sight of the beautiful young woman at dinner. The transformation made by a few adjustments was amazing. Any way in which he could take the Captain down a peg or two was heartening.

  Dmitri left his room. Sliding his hand down the banister, he was enjoying the feel of the polished wood, as he went down stairs to his study. It was not as grand as some of the houses of the rich in New York, but it was his.

  The study was his personal sanctuary, more so even than his bedroom. Just being home was comforting.

  Devins was to be his, no, their guest this evening. The Captain would be arriving soon. Tonight, he meant to get some things clear between himself and his partner, Devins.

  However, there was probably enough time for him to begin a letter to Barrow. He must remember to have a glance at Tatiana's inventory of material on hand in the storeroom.

  Never before, had Dmitri been concerned with the outfitting of a lady. His mother handled the details of her wardrobe. In some ways, it was an interesting diversion, much like furnishing a house.

  Putting down the pen, Dmitri leaned back in the chair. Why this fever to see Camille well dressed? An interesting question indeed. After consideration, an answer of sorts occurred to him. He wished to see what could be accomplished with such promising material. As Helena said, Camille had promise. Furthermore, as his Countess, he wanted to see Camille looking her best.

  A final thought made him drop the chair back onto four legs, stand up and toy nervously with the inkwell. He wanted her to be pleased and happy. Guilt motivated him, as well as concern for his position. After all, unless he took Camille to Sitka, no one else but he and the staff would see her.

  Their marriage may have had a less than auspicious beginning, yet there was still the chance they could learn to like each other. Pleasing her seemed to be one way of smoothing their path. But not having much experience with women like his bride, he could only hope lovely clothing would be something she would enjoy.

  There was a light knock on the study door. Dmitri did not wish to be bothered at this point. He hesitated, before granting the person permission to enter, but did so.

  His daughter opened the door. He noted she had changed into a clean skirt and blouse, Anya's hair was held back with a green ribbon. But her face still held the pinched, hardened look Dmitri had seen on the wharf.

  Experience told him nothing good would come of a conversation with his daughter at this time. "What do you want, child?" Dmitri sat down again and tipped his desk chair back onto its rear legs. Anya turned one of the chairs before the window around. Pulling it close to his side, she took a seat.

  The child sat primly straight on the edge of the chair. "I wish to know where you met my step mother."

  "Very well. Since this is to be a question and answer session. I will put out the first one. What right do you have to question your elders?"

  Dmitri knew his delaying tactic failed when his child spoke. "I know I do not have the right, I am to honor and obey you. But, I am your daughter and you have never before done something so important, without telling me. Certainly, I have some rights also."

  Dmitri put both feet on the desk, as he rocked the chair slightly. "Let me see. You are well fed, are you not?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "I clothe you in a manner few girls your age ever see. In short girl, your needs have been well taken care of."

  Dmitri wished Anya would leave well enough alone, but was certain it was a vain hope.

  "Correct on all points. You have also taught me to ask questions, to evaluate situations in a logical manner. So, father, I need to know what kind of woman she is. I do not want a loose woman for a stepmother!"

  Camille stood frozen before the study entrance. Helena, thankfully, was walking toward the kitchen and missed Anya's comment. Camille's arm was still poised, her hand in position to knock on the door that was not fully closed. She found it hard to breathe. Desperately, she wanted to run away but was unable to move. She must hear his response to Anya.

  "What do you know about "loose women"?" Dmitri jumped from the chair, its front legs crashed against the floor. Undaunted by her father's show of annoyance, Anya looked steadily up at him.

  "I have heard others talk. I know what a loose woman is. I learned things about men and women and the things that go on between them. In that respect, school in Sitka was quite informative, as is the village. I know some women will do anything for money."

  Dmitri's previous fits of temper were eclipsed by the cold hard voice he used when speaking to his daughter. Something about the tone caused Camille to shiver in fear. His voice never rose beyond conversational level.

  Dmitri found he was genuinely disgusted with Anya. For the first time in a very long time, he wondered if corporal punishment would make an impression on her. "Now you will listen to what I know, girl. The lady is my concern. I am quite convinced my wife is of the best moral fiber. On that point, I am the only one who counts in this matter."

  "Ha!" Anya cried out in anger.

  Camille was astonished to hear the child continue to challenge him.

  "Then I do not matter!"

  Dmitri's voice cracked across Camille's raw nerve ends. "In the case of my marriage, your wishes do not matter one ... damn ... bit! I will never again discuss my marriage with you. Do you fully comprehend me, Anya?"

  Anya muttered something Camille did not hear well enough to understand.

  Dmitri felt the heat of anger surge through him. Entirely too self-absorbed, Anya had no thought for anyone but herself. The child did not care if either he or Camille might be wounded by her behavior.

  Camille was as innocent as Anya of any wrongdoing. Being the instigator, he brought everything to fruition. However, he had no intention of admitting it to his daughter.

  God forbid she would ever find out the extent of his wrongdoing! "Understood, Anya?" Dmitri shouted at her.

  "Yes, Sir!" The child burst from the room. Anya ran past Camille. As the child hurried up the stairs, she was sobbing.

  In stunned silence, Camille stood in the now
fully open doorway staring at Dmitri. She watched him take several deep breaths. The man regained control of himself with considerable effort.

  After a moment, he gestured to her with one hand. "Come in, please."

  Entering, Camille walked over to the desk. Placing the tips of her fingers on the pen, she rolled it slowly back and forth across the polished surface. Dmitri closed the door, making sure the latch engaged.

  Quietly, he stepped up behind Camille and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I find I must apologize for my daughter's behavior. I am afraid she is not as compassionate as I hoped she would be."

  Camille leaned back against him. "She is only a child, and you are her entire world. Anya's resentment is only to be expected."

  Softly he kissed her temple. "Expected perhaps, but not condoned. Do not coddle her. Anya is probably emotionally stronger than both of us."

  Camille smiled faintly. "She could easily be stronger than I. However; I do not believe I have met anyone more forceful than you."

  Her smile vanished. "It distresses me to think I am bringing such unpleasantness to your life. Your island is such a lovely place for a child to grow up. Anya is so young for such anguish. I..." She twisted her fingers together. "I feel like the snake in the Garden of Eden."

  Camille had been prepared for him to laugh at her foolishness. Instead, he kissed the lobe of her right ear. A shiver ran down her spine.

  "Anya is young, much too young, to be so stubborn and unyielding. Perhaps you can teach her to be more reasonable, to sway more with the winds of life. She has never had a mother to teach her tolerance or consideration for others. I am afraid we have allowed her to get her way entirely too often. I think you will be good for her. If you remain calm and tolerant, I believe Anya will begin to absorb some of these qualities."

  Dmitri rubbed his cheek against hers. Camille began to relax against him. When he chose to be charming, he was entirely too disarming.

  When Camille thought about his last statement, she doubted it would be so simple. Children Anya's age could be quite set in their ways. Once allowed to run free, it was difficult to restrict them. The taming of Anya would not be an easy task, and she was skeptical of her ability to curb the child.