With a sharp shake of his head, Dmitri slapped the table top. "Have you any idea how much harm you are doing Anya by coddling her in this manner? She is becoming a willful brat."
Tatiana shot from her chair, eyes flashing. "How can you say such things of a sweet child like Anya? Poor babe! Motherless all these years."
"Sit down." He held up one hand. "Enough!"
Dmitri took the cup of coffee Nita held out to him. "Calm yourself. I have finally done something about giving Anya a mother and you still are not happy,"
He took a sip of coffee from the cup. "After all those years of harping at me about how I needed to find her a mother, I have done so."
Tatiana sniffed and sat down before taking another sip of tea. She pointedly turned away from Dmitri's searching gaze. "She hardly seems the mothering type. I think Madame is hardly out of the cradle herself."
He slapped the mug down. "What would you have me wed? Some comfortable, ample matron, a middle aged widow perhaps, would have been more to your liking? I do not understand you sometimes, woman. Camille is a sweet girl, not at all worldly. She will make a devoted mother, and I think a good wife."
His thoughts turned to Vanessa and the business she would be setting up in Juneau. "Would you have been happier if I brought home an experienced woman, one more my age? I doubt it. Then you would have accused me of bringing an opportunist into our midst."
Nita quietly placed a steaming plate before him and laid a napkin and silverware to one side of the plate, before going back to her stove. The cook stirred first one, then another of the pots, which bubbled on the wood cook stove, carefully avoiding being drawn into the discussion.
Finished with her tea, Tatiana was twirling her cup around in circles. Dmitri turned the chair and began to eat his breakfast. Dmitri's nanny looked him over carefully. The man was looking quite good this morning.
Perhaps she was too quick to judge the young woman. After all, with Dmitri happy, they all would be more content. Ten long years had gone by since Anya's death. Dmitri was a good father to the child. It was time for everyone to let go of the past. He had finally taken a wife, a fact all must become accustomed to.
"I am sorry. Please accept my apology, Dmitri. I am worried about Anya. She is too old for her years and at times, too sensitive. I find I hurt when she does."
"Perhaps Madame Camille will be able to help us with Anya. That is if we all work at helping Anya to realize Camille is not some grasping woman out to further her aims. Our positive attitudes toward Camille will help Anya to accept her new stepmother. Please work with me Tatiana, not against me in this. It will be to everyone's advantage if they can learn to at least respect one another."
"Certainly, Dmitri. You know I want what is best for Anya."
"I also know you want the best for all your children, Tassie. You can call me 'Count' or 'Sir' all you like, it does not matter. We both know Anya and I are as much your children as is possible."
Tatiana rose. Standing next to him, she placed a hand on Dmitri's shoulder. He leaned against her. Silently, Tatiana stroked his hair.
"Tassie, moy drogaia, think on this, there might even be a new baby for you to love, now that Camille has joined our family."
She laughed aloud. "You already have me on your side, my Demi-devil. It is not necessary to bribe me with promises of a full nursery." She placed a quick kiss on the top of his head, before leaving the kitchen.
Nita glanced over at Dmitri with a smile. Picking up his fork, Dmitri winked at her. The cook shook her head and went back to rattling her pots and pans.
She mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. "Ah, some people. The nerve! Taking advantage of helpless old women. A devil indeed!"
Dmitri heard her, as she had meant him to, but did not comment. He only grinned at her. Few fully realized how living here in the wilds of the territory together for years had forged a bond between them all. They were more family now, than anything else.
The exchange with Tatiana alerted him to a subtle something since last night. Something had changed within him. What he was feeling was new and different. It was as if years had rolled away. Dmitri was feeling hopeful, as he had when he was a young man. If not blissfully happy, he was at least feeling a sense of well-being in his home which had been lacking for many years.
It appeared he was not alone in his feelings this morning. Helena was coming up the path. She could be heard singing all the way inside the house. Pulling open the back door, she bustled into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Sir! Good morning, Nita! How is Madame this morning?" Helena poured herself a cup of tea and sat down across the table from Dmitri.
"Madame Camille had too much wine last night. I do not believe she has had a great deal of practice with spirits and is quite indisposed this morning." He ate another bite of the bacon.
"A pity." Helena pursed her lips lost in thought for a moment. "An eggnog might help."
"Indeed it might, especially if you put a bit of sherry in it. And, might I suggest a large pot of coffee."
He took the last bite of his breakfast, then pushed the plate to one side. Dmitri finished his coffee. Relaxed, he sat back in silence for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the kitchen. Then he rose and started toward the door. There were things to be done. He had been gone too long.
"Oh yes. Helena, Madame likes cream, quite a bit of it and sugar with her coffee." Dmitri left the kitchen.
He saw Tatiana in the hall, entering the study. Dmitri followed her. "Tatiana."
"Sir?" She was servant, he was master again. His Tassie was a very proper person.
"I need the inventory lists. I will need to revise them. Please have them on my desk by this afternoon."
With a brisk nod, she returned to her dusting. Dmitri left the house and strode down the path to the mill. It was an amazingly beautiful day! Clear blue sky served as a counterpoint to the gray-green sea and the green of the trees. Squirrels chattered in the treetops. Birds noisily flew away, as he strode down the trail. An earthy, musky scent exuded from the forest surrounding him. Almost to the place where the path split, Dmitri heard Anya call to him.
"Poppa! Wait for me!"
Dmitri stopped and turned. He watched as Anya raced down the path, braids flying. Dashing up to him, the child threw her arms around him. Dmitri bent down to take the panting child into his embrace. Hugging her tightly to him, the tall man released the girl and squatted down so as to be closer to her level.
After a moment, Anya caught her breath. "Poppa. I am sorry." She put both hands on his shoulders. Her gray eyes searched his face. Anya sighed. "I was naughty. I should not have spoken to you as I did. Am I forgiven?"
"Are you asking for forgiveness?"
She nodded. "Yes, from you, for speaking to you in the manner in which I did. I was just angry over your bringing her into our home, without as much as a word of warning. I know I was questioning your judgment, and it is not my place to do so."
"Anya. You are always to question everyone's actions, including your own. However, you should not scream at people and make accusations, which may or may not be true. Such behavior, only inflames the other party. How then, will you know what their reasoning was? How then, will you be able to evaluate the decisions which were made?"
Dmitri cupped her cheek with one hand. "It is difficult enough to run a family or a company, without creating problems between people. You certainly do not need to manufacture more. Use your manners, behave like a lady and you will find other people will gladly treat you as one."
"I did not act like a lady last evening."
"I most certainly agree. Please make an attempt to behave in a civil manner with Camille."
"I will do so. But, I do not think I can like her."
Dmitri sighed. Anya was such a stubborn child. "Very well. If you do not like her, you do not. I will not ask you to like her. I will require you to behave as a lady toward Camille, however. Be civil, polite and considerate. Can you manage that much for me?"
Anya's gray eyes filled with tears. She hugged Dmitri with all her little girl strength. "I will behave like a lady. I am sorry Poppa."
He stood, then took his daughter's hand in his. "Good enough, for now, doch’. Come along, my little savage. I will tell you about Chicago. It is a facinating place."
Dmitri shortened his stride to match Anya's. Her eyes glistened, as he told her about his activities of the last two months. They took the fork of the trail leading into the promyshileniks village. They still called themselves fur hunters even if most of them now worked as mill hands all summer, only trapping on the mainland in the winter.
As they entered the edge of the village clearing, the children of the community waved at Anya and Dmitri. A few of the younger ones dropped their chores, as they followed the pair down the trail to the mill. They chattered back and forth in Russian until Dmitri called a halt to it.
"Now then children, when you speak with me, do so in English. It is now the language of this country. You must practice it if you are to be able to work with the new people who are moving into our land."
Haltingly, they tried out their English on Dmitri. He patiently corrected them when necessary. The children followed Dmitri and Anya all the way to the mill. Once at the mill site, Dmitri swung Anya up and gave her a hug before telling her to go play with the children. Alexis was smiling at him from the doorway of the mill's office.
Alexis Vostovich was burly man. He wore a handle bar mustache that he twirled in times of stress. Dmitri sent Alexis to Seattle, to work in the mill there for a year after its purchase. Alexis now managed the Bressoff Island mill for Dmitri. He also took care of the administration of the island, when Dmitri was away.
Alexis was well acquainted with Dmitri's rule of speaking English at all times. Once in a while, both he and Dmitri lapsed into the mother tongue under pressure. And some times, like this morning, they greeted each other in Russian, because they were pleased with the state of their world.
"Allow me to congratulate you on your bride. May I say she is quite lovely? Where ever did you find her, Dmitri?"
"Madame Camille's uncle is the captain of the steam ship we are presently loading with lumber."
"Ah, yes. That matter will be taken care of by noon. The Laurie will leave soon after; I take it."
Dmitri nodded. "Now then, what did you wish to show me, Alexis?"
Alexis pointed to one of the stacks of lumber surrounding the mill on three sides. He indicated a small stack placed out of the way and off to one side. "Do you wish these held for your use? I set them apart, in case."
Alexis led him to the stack of planks. They were wide, clear spruce. Not quite dry, they were spaced apart to season. The grain of the planks was beautifully straight, except for the curly center, where the heart of the tree was.
Dmitri moved closer to the stack. "By all means, keep them. By next fall, they will be seasoned enough for furniture. They are too good for flooring."
"I agree. Do you have anything special in mind? I always enjoy watching your projects take shape."
"Not this time." Dmitri shook his head. "The house has all the furniture it needs at present. One never knows Alexis. I may decide we need something in the future. These are too nice to become a bar in some saloon in Juneau. We will find a use for them."
The two men went to the office, where they spent the morning going over the books. Until now, the mill had been showing a reasonable profit. Nothing to become rich with, it was sufficient to pay the bills, meet payroll and support its owner if necessary. Dmitri was satisfied.
The noon whistle sounded. Quite suddenly, the noise of the machinery ceased. Now, the roar of the falls could clearly be heard. Here in the valley of Vost Creek, the falls sang loudest. The mill was separated from both the village and the main house by a ridge. Centuries ago, the creek had carved a broad channel through the softer rock. Now, the mill nestled here at the foot of the gorge, like some strange tree devouring monster.
"Come. Have lunch with me at the house. There are a few other things I wish to discuss with you."
"Delighted. Perhaps I will be able to meet Madame at lunch." Alexis replied.
Dmitri shook his head. "I am not sure if she will be up to it."
He and Alexis had been friends since childhood. Dmitri felt no hesitation in confiding in him. "She was a bit indisposed this morning. I have discovered my wife has little or no tolerance for alcohol. That may change with time, however. I left her in your mother's care. Come, let us leave now. I always find myself in a state of starvation for the first week I am home."
The other man laughed, as he followed Dmitri across the bridge. Together they walked down the trail leading back to the main house. Dmitri did not worry about Anya. One of the older boys would escort her home when she was ready to leave.
It was several years since the last bear was killed on the island. There were moose, but Anya knew enough to give them the right of way. There were rules for living in a wild country. Anya was drilled in them from the moment she began to walk.
Camille was feeling better. A nap improved the condition of both her head and stomach. She sent Helena into Dmitri's room for the corset. The portly woman was smiling when she returned. She held the garment up for Camille to see.
"I will go down to the store room to see if I can find new laces. If you indeed intend to continue wearing this thing." Helena shook the offending article of clothing.
"No respectable woman would be seen without one!"
"Very well then. Men are always in such a hurry." Helena grumbled as she left the room to search for laces.
Camille stared at the corset in surprise. The laces had been cut. So, that was why he was able to remove it so quickly. For a moment, she was amused. Then Camille found herself angry. It was the only corset she owned! If Helena could not find new laces, she would be without it until some could be shipped in. Dmitri should not have been so inconsiderate.
Helena returned, laces dangling from her fingers. She pursed her lips, as she held them against the corset. "Let us see if these are long enough. They will do, Madame. We will have to tie them together like so."
She knotted the laces together and held the undergarment up for inspection. "There we are!"
Camille was relieved. Something would have to be done about her inadequate wardrobe. The list she gave to Tatiana would certainly help. She would have to discuss the matter with Dmitri.
Helena looked through her dresses again, mumbling to herself in Russian, as she did so. Taking out the lavender sprigged muslin, Helena set it on the clothes rack. Hands on her hips, Helena glared at it. "Madame! Really! It is impossible to do anything with this."
"What is so wrong with it, Helena?"
"It is far too childish. You are a woman Madame, not a schoolgirl. The print would not be so bad if the neckline were lower. A lower waist line, coming to a point over the navel certainly would help."
Helena cinched up the corset and helped Camille into a fresh chemise. Her maid lowered the dress over Camille's head. Once it was tugged into position, the older woman fastened it. Sitting Camille down at the dressing table, Helena proceeded to brush out her mistress's dark hair. All the while, a steady stream of chatter from her maid, engulfed Camille.
"With your dark hair and fair complexion, you need color. You can even enhance your eyes with color. Hazel eyes are changeable. They can be almost brown or green if you wear the right thing."
After braiding her hair. Helena deftly pinned it in a coronet on top of Camille's head.
"Will you help me learn these things? My mother never had time."
The older woman was moved by the request. She smiled, then patted her charge's shoulder. "That is what I am here for, Madame. I will teach you everything Madame taught me."
"Do you mean Dmitri's first wife?"
"Oh no, not Countess Anya! I am speaking not of her, but of Madame Alexi, his mother."
Anya had been his first wife's name. Camille found the
tidbit interesting. Dmitri named his daughter after her mother. Surely, it was significant. She did not have sufficient information to decide how to interpret the significance, however.
Camille wanted to question Helena further but hesitated. It was too soon. When Helena and she were better acquainted, she would ask questions regarding Dmitri's past. Instead of proceeding on that course, Camille resisted temptation and turned to a safer topic of conversation.
"What kinds of material are in the storeroom? I can sew. The nuns taught me well. With your help, we can make some lovely things if we have sufficient raw material to work with."
"Certainly, Madame. Once we give the Count the list of goods he intends to order for you, we will then be able to plan what to work on first."
"Order for me? What are you talking about?"
"I have spent all morning taking your measurements, Madame because the Count asked me to do so. While you slept, I took them to his study. He plans to have many new things made for you. We are also ordering more material. By the time we are finished, you will have an entire wardrobe assembled."
Camille sat in stunned silence for a moment. She did not realize how many things he noticed. Dmitri planned to solve some of her problems before she saw the need. How very good of him! Camille pleated her skirt between her fingers. Just a short time ago, she had condemned him as thoughtless.
"Madame?" Helena placed a hand on her arm. "Did you hear me, Madame?"
Camille shook her head. "Forgive me. What did you say?"
"Karin is here. The Count would like you to join him and Alexis at lunch if you feel well enough."
"I would love to. Wait, Karin, I will tell him myself."
Camille left the room in a flurry of enthusiasm. She leaned over the rail to look down into the entrance hall. Below, Dmitri stood talking to another man.
"Dmitri!"
He looked upward. Camille's face was lit up with a smile, which could not be denied. Dmitri found himself smiling back. She dashed down the steps toward him, and he found Camille's smile was, even more, overpowering up close.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 10
