"Anya? It is Camille. Would you like to join Helena and me? There are dressmaking projects to start and we would be glad of your company."
"I suppose." Anya opened the door. Curiosity got the better of her. She accompanied Camille to her room.
"Do you have a favorite doll?"
The girl nodded.
"Then we can cut out doll clothes while cutting out a few things for me." Camille smiled at Anya. "Would you like that?"
"Yes, Madame." Anya's smile was a passing thing. While it existed, it softened her sharp-featured face.
"That is unnecessary. Just call me Camille. It will be easier for the both of us."
The girl nodded. "Shall I get my dolls, Camille? We should make patterns for them, should we not?"
"Sewing is much easier with a pattern, yes. How many dolls do you have?"
"Only two in need of new dresses. One is a Tlingit doll. I wrap her in furs most of the time. But she might like to have a dress."
"Get them. You and I will draw up the patterns from the clothing they already have."
Anya rushed off to her room. All of her earlier thoughts fled. Now, she was only a little girl looking forward to making her dolls new clothing.
Ooskada sat in the crotch of a tree limb high above the ground. He followed the child home as always. By keeping out of Anya's sight, her pride was unharmed, and Ooskada was always sure she returned home without incident. This time, curiosity drove him to climb the tree and watch. He needed to see the woman who had taken his sister's place.
He expected she would be in the room at the back of the house. It seemed he had chosen his hide well. Ooskada could see her through the window glass. She was younger than he thought she would be.
As smoothly as he had climbed the tree, Ooskada descended. So long as the woman left Anya alone, all would be well. If she hurt Anya in any way, he would exact payment from the Russian's woman. The shaman slipped away from the clearing through the thick forest toward his village.
Camille stretched, as she looked around her. The sky was dark. Rain spattered against the glass. It was a good thing she did not mind rainy days. San Francisco had its share of rain as did New Orleans. With something to occupy her time, Camille found her outlook significantly improved. She welcomed the rain, in a way because it made the house seem so cozy.
There was a tap on the door. Helena entered at Camille's invitation and placed Camille's breakfast tray on the bedside table. "It is a bleak day outside, Madame. It looks as if it will rain all day."
As she bent over the hearth, Helena stirred up the coals before placing a log on the glowing embers. "As soon as you are ready, I will bring in everything from the guest bedroom."
"Is Anya awake? She was impatient to finish the cape."
"I saw her in the kitchen. Perhaps, Madame, it would be best if you wore only a dressing gown today. There will be a great deal of fitting if the patterns are to work fit."
"Yes. Then fetch me my corset and a fresh chemise, Helena. I must wear both or the measurements will not be correct."
Helena picked up the corset from where it hung on the wardrobe door. "This," she shook the undergarment as if it were a dirty rug. "Please allow me to take it to the rubbish heap. With a figure such as yours, you have no need of it."
Camille’s cheeks tingled with heat as she stared wide eyed at Helena. "But, I would be undressed without it. No respectable lady should allow herself to be out in public without suitable under garments."
Helena glowered at the offending garment. With a grimace, she tossed it into a corner.
"When I was a girl, these things were not the fashion. I have never worn one, even if my bosom needs it. Madame Alexi never forced her body into such a cage either. And Madame Alexi was a beauty until the day of her death."
With a sigh, Camille gave up the fight. When Helena brought up Madame Alexi, the matter had already been settled. "Then what shall I wear?"
"For today Madame, a shift beneath the dressing gown will serve. But, wait until you see the camisoles I will make you!" Helena rolled her eyes upward with a sigh.
Camille giggled; the woman was so emotional sometimes. "I hope the surprise is a pleasant one. Now, if you would please find Anya, we will bring our sewing in here."
With a grin at having won a great victory, the stocky woman picked up the corset and took it away with her. Soon the young Madame would look as a countess should. She would show the child what they could accomplish with a well-placed darts and tucks.
If only she could keep Camille from assisting with the patterns and the cutting. The cherry red wool was just the thing for a high-necked dress. It would make a proper, warm dress, perfect for winter. If she could keep Camille's attention on the red wool, it might give her enough time to arrange the patterns for the other gowns to her satisfaction.
Anya was lingering over a cup of tea and a roll in the kitchen. Helena thought it was good of Camille to be so mindful of the child's feelings. Anya's long dark red hair was tied back with a ribbon. And she had on a dress with a lace trimmed pinafore. Helena tugged at a curl which caused the child to turn toward her.
The maid patted the child's cheek. "Finished with your meal? Madame says you are to come upstairs with me if you wish to sew again today."
Anya gulped down the tea, then popped the last bite of the roll into her mouth. With a small skip now and again, she followed the woman upstairs. After retrieving the teacart from the guest bedroom, Helena pushed it down the hall to Camille's room, where she rapped on the door.
"Come in." Camille stood before the mirror; with her robe pulled tight around her body. Without the corset, her figure appeared more rounded. And Camille found it much easier to breathe. The lack of lacing and whale bone felt comfortable. But Camile was not going to tell Helena that.
"I think you are right, Helena, the effect is more natural. As I think about it, I do not believe my mother ever wore one."
Helena heard the note of resolve in her mistress's voice. The maid smiled, as she spread out the muslin on the floor, smoothing out the creases. With the shears, Helena leaned forward to out the pattern she had traced on the material. There was a good bit of adjusting to do.
Camille sat down with Anya, to show her how to turn the hem on the cape Anya held. They sat on the chaise lounge; heads bent over the soft velvet.
***
Dmitri lay under the blankets, watching the rain fall. A thick layer of fog cloaked the harbor. Glancing at the fireplace, he noticed the coals were almost dead. Before he could change his mind, Dmitri threw back the covers and hopped out of his warm bed.
He stirred up the coals, took a handful of kindling from the bucket by the fireplace, and tossed it onto the embers. Dmitri blew at the base of the pile of wood chips and thin sapwood sticks. As soon as the kindling caught fire, Dmitri added two logs to the blaze before dashing back to the warmth of his bed. There was nothing to get up for this morning and he felt lazy. With a yawn, Dmitri snuggled back into the nest of covers.
He was expecting the rain; the empty eye had been throbbing since yesterday evening. At least, since the weather changed, the ache vanished. It was nice to idle in bed on a gray morning. How nice it would be if Camille's soft little body were here next to him. That was a lovely thought. With a sigh, Dmitri dropped off to sleep again.
***
The women spent the day sewing. Camille helped Anya cut out another doll dress once the cape got finished. After showing Anya how to tack the sections together, Camille took up the pieces of the dress she wanted to sew together.
As she concentrated on basting the seams of the wool dress, Camille realized she must try on the dress. As Helena had eliminated the corset, adjustments would be necessary
Helena was happy to have Camille busy with the winter dress. It kept Camille from worrying about what she was doing with the cut of the new gowns. At times she asked Camille to put down her sewing and stand still while the muslin patterns were being fit.
The mai
d took care to turn her mistress away from the mirror above the dressing table. The third time Camille found herself scolded for moving when she tried to glimpse what Helena was doing in the mirror, Camille became suspicious.
"Anya! I fear Helena does not want me to see what she is doing."
The child's face was the picture of mischief when she smiled. "I believe you are correct. I think there is something she is trying to conceal. You should not let her put you off. I would watch what she is doing."
Helena took the pins from her mouth as she secured the pattern she had just removed from Camille's body to a length of brocade.
"Hush girl, or out you go."
"Yes, Helena." Anya glanced up at Camille.
The child giggled when Camille made a face behind the older woman's back. Anya felt warmth toward Camille, which surprised her.
No, I will not allow her to fool me. Anya thought as she strengthened her resolve to be cautious with her stepmother. Anya turned her attention back to her needlework.
Camille watched the smile fade. She was a little saddened by Anya's sudden retreat behind her wall of reserve. Anya’s temperament resembled that of her father. Camille wondered what her mother had been like.
Gregor woke Dmitri before noon. The older man was quiet as he shaved the second day growth of beard from Dmitri's face. That accomplished, the elder went to put away the shaving equipment. Dmitri's voice startled him, causing Gregor to drop the straight razor.
"Perhaps if you tell me what is on your mind, Uncle, it will cease to bother you."
Gregor picked up the razor which he placed on the washstand. "I do not wish to see Anya punished without cause. Further, I have only suspicions. I am not sure what I believe is correct."
With a shake of his head, Dmitri glanced up at Gregor from his chair. "It is beyond me the way everyone here protects her. Am I some monster who ties Anya to a bed post and thrashes her daily, just to maintain proper discipline?"
Gregor's dark eyes widened in horror at Dmitri's accusation. "Oh, no Dmitri. It is only...."
Dmitri waved him to silence. "I know, 'the poor child.'" He mimicked Tatiana's voice. "Damn it, Uncle. She does not need pity. Now tell me what you suspect."
Gregor nodded. "I saw Anya yesterday. I realized; she was being careful about getting from the stable to the house unnoticed. I do not understand why. Unless perhaps, she was returning from a ride alone."
"Thank you, Uncle. I will keep a closer watch on the child in the future."
Both men had the same thought, but neither spoke it. Dmitri wished Ooskada lived far from the island. Often, he regretted having given the remnant of his late wife's village shelter here. Ooskada was too close to Anya.
The fight over who should raise the child had been going on since her mother’s death. Ooskada had a rightful claim by Tlingit law, but not as far as Dmitri was concerned; she was his daughter.
He did not want Ooskada attempting to sway her to the old ways. They were not to be forgotten, any more than her Russian heritage should be denied. But, she should not be encouraged to live in the old ways. They were fast becoming ancient history. He did not want Anya lost in a vanishing world.
Dmitri was glad the child was spending the day sewing with Camille. It would be good for the both of them if they could establish a friendship of some sort.
There was laughter in Camille’s room. He thought that a good sign, and he hoped for the best. But he had work to do; things to attend to in the study that included reviewing several newspapers. Dmitri went downstairs to the study where he spent the balance of the day. Often, he found his thoughts straying toward the village and Ooskada.
***
Dmitri was so quiet at dinner Camille sighed in relief when the meal finished. Making the excuse of unfinished work, the man retired to the study. She was never sure what his silences meant. Camille appreciated the serenity of her room that evening as she curled up on her bed with the book of poetry.
Since Dmitri did not appear to be upset with her, she forced herself to remain calm. Perhaps some business matter was occupying his thoughts. After deciding not to worry about her husband's distracted behavior, Camille returned to her reading.
***
Moisture dripped from the surrounding forest, but Ooskada was dry within his shelter. The slight breeze caused the spruce tree to sway. Under the shelter of its roots, the shaman felt the movement. The massive tree sat on an outcrop of soil and rock. Its roots reached deep within the cracks in the earth, anchoring it tight to the soil.
At one time in the spruce's life, an animal dug a burrow beneath its shelter. Time and the elements enlarged the hole into a shallow cave. Ooskada, finding it, had reshaped the den for his needs.
A small fire before the entrance kept the chill from the air. Ooskada fed in twigs as he crouched within his shelter. When the tree shifted above him, the ground made faint groaning noises as the roots strained to keep the tree anchored. And he was one with the world. Ooskada heard the earth chant begin and wondered that it came from his lips.
"Come spirits! Make me your vessel." He sent his thoughts out to be scattered to the winds. A handful of dry twigs went into the flames as the shaman sent the chant away from him toward those in the otherworld, those watching and waiting.
The fire blazed. Its smoke filtered in a slow swirl out of the tiny smoke hole. The gray plume continued up the trunk of the tree where the branches diffused the smoke. The shaman placed herbs on the fire and sucked the thick smoke which arose into his lungs. Sweet and cloying, the scent filled the burrow.
The man closed his eyes and began another song. He marveled at the words of the chant. It was one he never heard before. The spirit call echoed from the roots and rocks around him. With a sigh, his soul separated from the physical body that contained it. Ooskada looked down upon that which he was.
Freedom! His spirit was free! Ooskada soared with the smoke. Swirling, then dipping, the shaman danced with the flames. The fire beings welcomed him, as together, they swayed with the song.
A dark shadow filled the entrance to his shelter. Massive wings folded. A raven waddled in. It lowered its body to sit across the fire from Ooskada's shell. His spirit left the flames to sit down before the flesh to which he must return later.
The thick beak clicked as the raven turned its head to watch the shaman from one shiny eye. "Greetings, shaman. Why have you called me here?" The dark wings spread, causing a thick blackness within the burrow.
"Because of the child. She is mine, Yethyl. But they hold fast to a part of her."
The thick beak opened, then shut with a sharp click. "The pale ones change our world. It is not as it was before." The bird shook its feathers, causing sparks to fly from the fire.
Ooskada struck himself in the chest with a fist. "If only I could have kept my sister from the One-Eyed-One."
"That is long past, shaman." The bird again shook out its wings. The sound of its feathers rustling was as chimes in the wind. "What do you wish of me now?"
"Keep Anya safe, Yethyl. Spread your wings around her. Let no harm come to the child."
The bird turned its head and stared at Ooskada with its other eye. "The child is under the protection of the raven tribe. She may come to us in time, shaman. Have patience."
Ooskada spread his hands before him. "I long to snatch her from their jaws, to bring her to safety."
Yethyl ran his beak through his breast feathers. After satisfying himself all were in place, the bird again turned a bright eye on the shaman. "We must go slowly, shaman. The One-Eyed-One has a strong totem. You know the bear tribe has marked him as one of their own. They have answered the call and one of the tribe is here now. And the child is his also, so we must be careful."
"It is hard, Yethyl! You know a child belongs to its mother's clan."
The bird bobbed its head. "True, and I will help you Ooskada. But, we must not anger the bear people. They must be considered. Remember to be patient."
The dark wings unf
olded as Yethyl backed out of the entrance to the den. The raven flew away, and Ooskada spent a long time staring into the fire.
***
Heart pounding, Dmitri lay on his stomach, with both arms over his head. Sweat drenched his body, and the blankets lay tangled around his legs.
"Dmitri!" Camille called his name, as her fingers touched his cheek.
"Are you well? I heard you and..."
A hard kick dislodged the blankets, and he rolled over to pull her down into his arms. "I have night terrors as you do, little one. But it is all they are. It happened a very long time ago."
His back and empty eye socket ached with the memory of the mauling, but he said nothing. Her husky voice murmured words of comfort against his chest. Camille soothed her husband back to sleep.
***
Camille opened her eyes and glanced at the window. The sky was still a dark, gray color. It did not matter if the weather stayed bad. She and Helena had enough sewing to keep them busy for a long time. With a wiggle, she snuggled deeper into the covers, Camille laid her cheek against Dmitri's warm back. It was good to have a man of her own and her own home. It was also wonderful to be needed.
Her fingers brushed across his ribs and Dmitri wiggled a little in response. Ah! He was ticklish. Some devil of mischief took possession of her and Camille launched an attack on Dmitri's unprotected ribs. With a howl, followed by choked laughter, he came awake. They rolled around on the bed as Dmitri tried to grab her wrists. At last, he succeeded in subduing the laughing girl.
"Fiend! That is no way to wake a man! Perhaps you are ticklish yourself."
The smile he turned on her was wicked. With a chuckle, Dmitri forced Camille's arms above her head. Hazel eyes wide, she struggled to break loose.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 14
