One palm cupped his cheek. Camille stared at him. "They are beautiful."
He rubbed his cheek against her soft palm. "In that box are years of Bressoff family jewels. I am sure you and Helena can find something for you to wear tonight."
Helena tapped on the door. Dmitri jumped up from the bed, and she noticed he flushed in embarrassment. It was a revelation. Dmitri was not as much in control as he would like her to think. Camille smiled in pleasure at the knowledge that her aloof husband felt as she did when they were together.
"I will be in the library if you want me." His tone was curt as he opened the door for her maid and left the two women alone in the room.
Helena placed a tray with a cup of hot chocolate on the table. “It is time he gave those to you. And this will go well with the red dress," Helena said. She leaned over the box and reached in to pick up a necklace of gold roses with a diamond in the center of each flower. Helena placed the necklace on the dressing table. "Come along, Madame. It is time for us to begin."
After taking a seat, the young woman watched Helena in the mirror. Her maid's plump fingers were busy arranging Camille's dark hair. The two women were silent as Helena went about her business.
Camille felt somewhat like a canvas, on which an artist was spreading his paints. She watched with interest as Helena worked. The last item was cosmetics. The older woman turned Camille from the mirror as she painted on the French lip salve. Then she bushed a hint of rouge onto her cheeks. With the tip of her small finger, Helena stroked clear salve into Camille's eyebrows and eyelashes.
Turning Camille to face the mirror once more, Helena smiled at her reflection. "See how nice you look, Madam."
Camille inspected her face in the glass. The cosmetics Helena applied were not noticeable, but the total effect was. The woman in the mirror was someone the girl had always dreamed of being, but never thought to see.
"Come along, dear." Helena noticed her look of amazement and chuckled. "It is time to put on your gown."
Camille looked away from the mirror, with a guilty glance at Helena. In disbelief, she stole odd glances at her reflection, as her maid got her into silk hose and under things. She stood still while Helena lowered the scarlet silk gown into place. Behind the young Countess, Helena fastened the myriad of tiny buttons.
The last touch was the necklace which the maid clasped about Camille's neck. It fit like a high collar. As Helena dabbed perfume at her neckline and wrists, Camille moved her head from side to side. The necklace was tight, but not uncomfortable.
Helena brought over the slippers and Camille leaned against her shoulder as the older woman knelt to put them on her feet. Curious, Camille turned for one last look in the long mirror which was part of the wardrobe.
With a shake of her head, Camille turned back to Helena. "I do not feel right. I do not look like me."
Helena leaned forward, careful not to disturb the fall of the gown, she gave Camille a quick hug. "It is you. There is no reason to worry. Go down now and see what your husband thinks. It is too bad there are no longer any parties like we used to have. But you can look like a princess for a night. There is no harm in it." The older woman directed her into the hall with a wave of both hands.
Camille hurried down the stairs and entered the study before she lost her courage and dashed back up again. Dmitri saw her and broke off his conversation in the middle of a sentence with a murmured excuse. After rising from the chair, he stared at Camille while walking toward her. When he took her hand, Dmitri bowed low over it before kissing her fingers. Camille noted the look of pride, mingled with disbelief, which crossed his face.
"You shall be the loveliest lady present, my dear," Dmitri whispered the words into her ear before backing away and placing her hand on his arm. Olga and Fedor both told her how lovely she looked. At that moment, the first of the guests arrived. The evening passed in a glittering whirl of conversation and flirtatious glances, many of which came her way.
The military doctor, his wife and several of the upper echelon of the United States Navy vessel attached to Sitka, made up the majority of the guests. One or two men of Russian descent, unaccompanied by women, were there. The majority of the guests were men, either in the military, or involved in shipping or trade.
After supper, the men retired to the study, while the ladies went into the parlor. Camille was grateful for a respite. Two of the younger men had paid court to her the entire evening. The strain of turning away their apparent interest with delicacy was wearing.
In the study, Dmitri made a point of avoiding the window. Instead, he glanced at the books that formed Fedor's library. He did not wish to look at what had become of the town, so few lights could be seen. Recovery from the upheaval of the last few years came slowly. People were moving into the city, not away from it, now that it was the capital city of the territory. Still, it was a far cry from the city of his mother's day. Then Sitka carried the nickname of the Paris of the Pacific.
Basil Kaminski walked over to stand next to Dmitri. "It has been a long time since we last spoke, Count. The last few years have held significant change for those of us who stayed here."
"How true." Dmitri turned to glance at the younger man. "I am glad to see the town appears to recovering from the depression of the last few years."
Kaminski nodded. "I have been wondering if it would ever happen. In the meanwhile, I have been earning a living as a doctor and first mate on board various vessels trading up and down the coast. Most of the time, it seems as if my credentials as a pilot are worth more than my skills as a doctor. Now that people are returning to Sitka, I have thought about reopening the old house to take up the practice of medicine on a full time basis."
"I am happy to hear it, Basil. It has been quite some time since one could depend on regular medical help to be available here. When do you think you could open the office?"
"It will be awhile yet, perhaps as early as next spring. I have reopened the house for the time being. It will take quite a lot of work to restore it to what it once was. But while I am in town, I use some of the building."
Kaminski sighed. "We are resting for a few days before proceeding on another voyage to Seattle, where we are to unload our cargo. We ran into a large snag north of here and came in to make repairs." Kaminski took a sip of his whiskey, then shook his head. "I have been saving the bulk of my salary, to have enough money to begin repairs on the house."
The young man’s plans for the future interested Dmitri. He often wished they had a doctor on the island, however, there was not enough work for a full-time practitioner. But, having medical help available in Sitka on a full time basis, without having to go through the military establishment, would be an improvement.
"Is capital all that is standing in your way?" Dmitri asked.
"At the moment, yes. I think this season will give me sufficient resources to proceed with my plan. I will work the trading business in the summer for the next few years, then spend the winters here at home, building up my practice. It is unfortunate that I will have to shut down in the summer, but I can see no other way to have enough assets to carry me through the lean times."
Dmitri nodded. "Your father was a good doctor, Basil. Are you as good as he was?"
The man's eyes searched the Count's face for a moment, before he replied. "I am better. There have been many new developments in the past few years. Medicine has broadened its horizons in ways laymen can only guess at. There is a great deal of reluctance by some physicians to embrace the new methods. Also, many of the patients are unsure of the measures we must now use to diagnose illness. I think the future will see physicians becoming healers of diseases, which have thwarted all efforts to control them, until now. We are making unbelievable progress."
"Basil, what if I were to offer you a business arrangement, say you take care of all my people whenever necessary and I will underwrite your monetary needs. I want a full-time physician here. I cannot be sure my people will get the care they need any oth
er way."
"One moment." Kaminski walked over to a table, where he put down the half empty glass of whiskey. The young man walked back over to Dmitri.
"Do I understand this proposal of yours? You will pay me a retainer to guarantee I will be here, at your disposal, at all times of the year?"
Dmitri toyed with the pattern of the glass he still held. "Correct."
The doctor nodded. "But, if I were to be out on a call somewhere, away from Sitka, and not available to you, would that cause me to lose your retainer?"
"No." Dmitri tapped the bottom of the empty glass against the heel of his hand.
"A doctor must be able to function unfettered. If you were not available, because you were treating someone else, that is the luck of the draw, as they say. I, we, would expect as a doctor you would practice medicine for the good of all the populace. It would be unreasonable of me to expect you to drop all other patients at a moment's notice and, I would think, unwise."
The young doctor's face did not give away his thoughts.
Dmitri looked out the window for a moment before continuing. "An outbreak of something, which could kill many, must be dealt with. Something of that nature should not be allowed to gain a foothold because you could not deal with it in an expeditious manner. I would expect you to deal with my people as necessary, asking for no payment from them. They would be covered by the retainer I would provide."
"A very reasonable attitude, Count. Do you run your island as your forefathers ran your estates in Russia?" The doctor was smiling, but there was an edge to his question that caused Dmitri to expand the answer he would have given. It seemed the young man had picked up political attitudes at school that caused him to question Dmitri's motives.
"My forefathers were absolute rulers of all lands and peoples held in their names in Russia, until the emancipation of the serfs in 1861.”
Dmitri looked at Kaminski as he shook his head. "Times have changed. I am under obligation to provide for the people on my island because I choose to do so. They work for me. They also work for themselves. I do not take a share of what they earn by trapping or hunting. But, I have never forgotten they made a decision to stay here and become citizens of this country, as I did. Part of their decision was due to my choice."
Dmitri ran one finger around the rim of the glass. "We are more a family than a master and his servitors. I own the island; they own their homes and gardens. I have deeded those things to them. I need them, and they need the jobs created by my mill. Who knows what the future will bring. Someday, I may shut the mill and then we shall have to find other ways of earning a living on the island. When the time comes, if it does, we will approach the problem together.”
Dmitri took a step toward the side table. He placed his empty glass next to Kaminski’s.
"You call me "Count", but the title has no meaning here. The assets I hold are the only things standing between my people and poverty. If I fall, so do they. So, I make money and hope I choose places to invest the money to best advantage. I realize this is not the way most rich men in the United States view their positions, it is however, what my Mother taught me."
The two men were talking in low tones, unnoticed by those around them. Dmitri wished to keep the conversation between the two of them alone.
"The estates I hold in the old country were and are, run in a different manner than those controlled by the old guard. My Mother was the daughter of a merchant. She viewed the nobility as a useless bunch of parasites, living off the people who work the land. That is why we stayed here after the purchase. We did not and do not, belong to the old guard."
Basil Kamanski put out his hand. "Then we have a deal, Mr. Bressoff. I did not want to work for a benevolent despot. I look on my new status as an American as a way to change the world, a thing I am passionate about. Perhaps, I do take things too much to heart on occasion. But I will not sail with my ship when it leaves for Seattle. I have too much to do here. You and I will have to settle on the terms of this retainer. Perhaps tomorrow."
Dmitri shook the doctor's hand. "That is unnecessary. Settle on a figure that will maintain you for a year. My company in Seattle will purchase whatever you need in the way of supplies, those your funds will not cover. I will give you the name of my man in Seattle. Have the captain of the ship filling your order, contact him. Whatever you need from me to cover supplies, will be repaid at two percent interest over, shall we say ten years? If you have problems meeting the obligation, we will renegotiate the terms. Do we agree doctor?"
"Absolutely." Kaminski was beaming. He straightened his jacket, then went in search of more whiskey to refill his glass.
Olga opened the door. She smiled at the men who turned to glance at her. "Come along, gentlemen. You have been in here long enough. We have a fiddler and we ladies wish to dance before the evening is over."
The men put away their cigars and whiskey, with a show of grumbling about women and music. However, the younger men went without argument. A dance was something they did not have too much opportunity to enjoy while in Sitka. There was a shortage of eligible young women. Social opportunities were few for the military men stationed there.
By the time the last guest said good night, Camille was exhausted. She and Olga collapsed on the bench next to the door. One of the native servants brought out cups of tea for the ladies.
Olga finished hers, then smiled at Camille. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Yes! Thank you for inviting us. It was a most pleasant evening. One I will not forget."
Olga tapped her on the arm with her folded fan. "You had your share of dancing partners. I am glad you and Dmitri could attend."
Fedor and Dmitri joined the women in the hall. Fedor extended his hand to Olga and helped her to her feet.
"The last guests are on their way home, and the fiddler has left. Now we should go along to bed as well."
"My feet ache so much I am almost of a mind to have you carry me upstairs." Olga lifted her skirt a trifle, then pointed the toes of each foot.
Fedor laughed and shook his head. "Not I, Olga."
"Brute! Then give me your arm. Good morning, my dears. We are off to bed." Olga blew them both a kiss, as her husband urged her toward the stairs.
Camille glanced up at Dmitri, who was silent. "I believe we should retire, are you ready?"
He nodded, took her hand and placed it on his arm. Dmitri escorted her up the stairs toward their room. Camille wondered at his silence, then dismissed it as exhaustion.
When he opened the door for her, Camille entered their bedchamber. She laid her fan on the dressing table. Camille was reaching up to remove her hairpins when Dmitri spun her around to face him. His hands gripped her shoulders, and he shook her. Camille's hairpins fell out and her hair tumbled free. Her head snapped back and forth and she wondered if he intended to break her neck.
"What on earth is wrong with you?" Camille cried out.
Dmitri stopped shaking her, but his hands still held her shoulders in a grip Camille knew would leave bruises. His single almond-shaped eye had narrowed to a slit. There was no sign of color in his face. The vein in his temple was throbbing. He was in a rage.
"Tell me, southern bitch, do you intend to spread your favors as freely when I am away?"
Camille looked up at him, hazel eyes enormous in her small face. "I do not understand you. What are you asking?"
"Camille Bressoff, the belle of the ball. You flirted with every man present tonight, but one." His fingers dug into her skin. "Your husband seemed to be forgotten in the excitement."
Camille felt her cheeks become hot as anger jolted through her. Who was he to accuse her of improper behavior when he had a mistress in Juneau? Her breathing quickened. Camille glared back at Dmitri.
"I am a lady and your wife. I will remain faithful to you whether or not you return the courtesy."
Her tone was cold. She freed herself from his grip which had gone slack with a slight shake. "Since we were the guests of honor, it would ha
ve been very gauche of me to ignore everyone, but you."
Camille turned her back on him. She walked over to the dressing table. "I am exhausted. I refuse to discuss this absurdity any further. Jealousy does not become you, Dmitri."
Dmitri stood watching her. A cold chill drove away his anger. What had she meant? Did Camille know about Vanessa? It was impossible! She was correct, however. He was behaving like an old fool, with someone young enough to be his daughter for a wife. She was struggling to unbutton the dress and keep her hair out of the way at the same time. Dmitri walked over to her. He pushed away Camille's hands.
"Hold your hair up, I will undo the buttons."
His tone was gruff, but Camille did as he asked. The storm was over, she knew it. Her knees threatened to let go at any moment. Why had she said it? Her anger brought her too close to revealing her knowledge of his secret. It was too soon to force Dmitri to choose. As he released the last button, Dmitri bent to kiss the back of her neck.
"Forgive me, my love. You are correct that was inexcusable. I was behaving as what I am, an old fool with a young and beautiful wife."
Turning, Camille placed her hands against his chest. She studied his face in silence. After a moment, she spoke. "I will forgive you, but," Her chin rose, and she glared at him. "Never call me that again. And it might be wise if you learned to keep your hands to yourself if you cannot control your temper."
Dmitri flushed. "I am sorry, sorry I hurt you. But, I do not recall what I said."
"You called me a "Southern bitch," Dmitri Bressoff."
He embraced her and kissed her, but found his wife unresponsive. "Never again! I will never say it again. I promise you."
His lips pressed down hard upon hers and his embrace almost crushed her. When Dmitri lifted his head, Camille took a deep breath, as she leaned back against his arms. Camille ran trembling fingers into her hair and lifted it back from her forehead. The direction his thoughts had taken were clear to her. Dmitri was like a chameleon. His changes of mood were almost more than she cared to be subjected to.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 26
