Hot, raw anger surged through him. With a roar that shook the windows, Dmitri wrenched open the door. The connecting door to Camille's room was shut. When he twisted the knob, he found the door locked.
"Unlock this God damned door!" Dmitri pounded on the door with his fist. There was no response. "Camille! Open the door, or I will break it open."
There was a tugging on his sleeve. Anya was trying to get his attention as she pulled at him. Tears spilled down her face.
"Poppa! Please listen. Poppa!"
Dmitri took a great shuddering breath as he turned his back to the door. "What is it, child?" His voice was hoarse with strain.
"Something has gone wrong at the mill. You must hurry. Alexis was injured. It is bad. He needs you now."
"Where is he?" Dmitri found it hard to breathe.
"Still at the mill. You must hurry." Anya tugged at his arm. Dmitri glanced past Anya. Everyone stood clustered in a small group in the bedroom. Only Anya had dared to approach him.
"Yes. Get everyone out of here. I will join you downstairs in a moment. Have the horse saddled and brought around."
Dmitri turned his attention to the locked door again. When things were quiet behind him, he leaned his forehead against the door.
"Listen Camille. Something is wrong at the mill. Alexis is hurt, and I must leave. When I return, this door had best be open. We will get to the bottom of all of this. I know you can hear me. Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I would never hurt you. But we must talk. This has gone on too long. When I return, you will be ready to discuss things in a reasonable manner. I am leaving now."
Camille cowered on the bed with her hands over her ears trying to shut out Dmitri's words. When all was quiet, she opened the dressing room door. As he said, he had left. Camille put a hand to her throat as she sighed in relief. She did not want to hear it, any of it. He married her under duress. Everything between them was a lie. They had both lied. Perhaps he wanted her dead after all.
Camille paced the floor of her room, her prison. Where could she go to escape him? Was there any place on the island she might hide?
Dmitri pushed the horse as hard as he dared in the darkness. The rain changed to sleet as the temperature dropped. As he neared the mill, Dmitri saw a ring of light behind the building in the log yard. He tied the horse in front of the office, then slipped and slid through the mud toward the light.
Dmitri glanced down at the figure lying in the pool of light cast by the lanterns. Alexis lay in the mud beneath a jumble of several logs. They would have to remove the logs carefully. Above his friend’s chest, the butt end of one large log hung balanced by the weight of the logs above it. If it fell, it would pin Alexis beneath it.
It was questionable if he could breathe with the full weight of the log on his chest. To make matters worse, it was the second to last log, which must be removed before he would be safe. The men clustered around the tumble of logs, stood watching Dmitri, as he assessed the situation.
They must get him out. Alexis could not stay in the cold and damp for long without suffering irreparable damage. They must do something now. Dmitri gauged the distance between Alexis and the log which threatened his life. He got down on his hands and knees in the mud and crawled into the jumble where he positioned himself over Alexis. The end of the log lay across his shoulders.
"Move those logs. Do it now and hurry!" He yelled at the men, who stood staring in disbelief at what he intended to do. The rain and sleet seemed to lessen as the crew flipped logs off the pile one by one.
Dmitri locked his body in position over his friend as the weight settled upon him. Far better his back than Alexis’ chest. The far end of the log seemed to be held down just enough to keep its full weight from settling on him. There was no way to guess which log, once removed, would release the full weight of log above them on his shoulders.
He had thought he was prepared, he was not. Time slowed. It crawled, as the weight descended. When it settled on him; all Dmitri could do was endure.
God! They must hurry! His head dropped as the blood throbbed through him. Alexis' hand touched his hair.
"Dmitri...you should not have done this. We might both die."
It was impossible to reply. Dmitri's thoughts wandered. Unconsciousness swam at the edges of his mind. Teeth clenched, he fought against it.
Then the weight that had tried to smash them both lifted, he was free. He attempted to rise, but could not. Strong arms lifted Dmitri to his feet. He stood supported between two of the mill workers. The muscles of his back had cramped and straightening was painful.
The babble of Russian and English around him became words he understood as his brain returned to functionality. It seemed Alexis had a broken leg. No other damage was apparent.
A litter was thrown together and four men carried the now unconscious Alexis home. Dmitri walked along with them, supported on either side by two other men. They spoke words of encouragement to him as they walked. When he slipped on the path, strong hands made sure he did not fall.
At last, they reached the shelter of the village and Alexis' home. Dmitri's brain was in better condition than his body. Wet and exhausted, he lowered himself into a chair at the kitchen table. Then he slumped forward, laid his arms on the table and pillowed his head on them.
The warmth of the kitchen drove away the sense of unreality, which had been with him from the first moment the log settled on his back. Firm hands settled on his neck and Dmitri sighed in relief as someone massaged his aching muscles. There was a steady drone of voices around him. Dmitri smiled, as a concertina wheezed out a tune.
At last, he felt recovered enough to sit up. Dmitri looked around him. He found it was Karin who had cared for him when she placed a tearful kiss upon his cheek. She whispered her thanks into his ear, then shyly turned away. Helena closed the door to Alexis' bedroom behind her.
"How is he?" Dmitri asked. With a beaming smile, Helena leaned across the table to kiss him before throwing her hands into the air with a laugh. Everyone was silent.
"Thanks to you, he will live. His right leg is broken, but it is a clean break. It will mend."
The concertina launched into a melody and those in the kitchen sang along. Someone produced a bottle of vodka. A glass was thrust into Dmitri's hand and he found himself the object of many a toast. When his glass was empty, he excused himself from the party. Outside, he was pleased to find someone had thought to bring the horse along.
The liquor had warmed him, and Dmitri had a measure of control again. He swung into the saddle. The horse was ready for its stall. The animal started down the trail at a brisk walk.
Dmitri was anxious to get home. He wanted to find out what had driven Camille to such extreme action. Then again, he was exhausted. He needed a decent night's sleep. Perhaps, if he and Camille spoke...perhaps! Dmitri shook his head. Speculation would gain him nothing. Who knew what was in her mind?
He opened one of the stable doors. After fumbling around on the shelf just inside the door, Dmitri found the matches. A quick swipe of the match across the rough planks under the shelf caused the match to break into flame. The light helped him locate the lamp. He got the coal oil lantern lit and hurriedly blew out the match before it reached his fingers.
With the lamp held high, he tugged on the reins and the horse followed him into the stable. Dmitri pulled the saddle from the animal’s back, the bit from its mouth and turned it into the stall. Before leaving, he gave the horse an extra ration of grain.
Tasks accomplished, he blew out the lamp. While latching the door, Dmitri glanced up at Camille's window. There were no lights on, but he saw the fire's glow.
He made his way into the house and used the hand rail to help him climb the stairs to his room. In the dressing room, he stood before the door she had locked. Before he could change his mind, Dmitri tapped on the door.
He thought it might help if he swallowed a little of his pride. But there was no answer. He hoped she would be reasonable. His bo
dy ached from the strain he had put it through. When his hand turned the knob, the door opened. Dmitri walked in and found the room empty.
Where the hell has she gone? A dull throbbing lodged in his head. On the verge of exhaustion, every move he made taxed his strength further.
Dmitri checked the guestroom. Within minutes, he had searched the house from top to bottom. She was gone. Fear replaced his exhaustion. Camille had done something foolish; he was sure of it.
In the pantry, he took a lantern from a peg. He grabbed his thick fur coat from the mudroom and shrugged into it. After lighting the lamp, he went out again. A chill north wind had sprung up. Dmitri looked up at the sky. It could snow. The last snow of the season, perhaps. He fastened the buttons into the loops with one hand, then put his free hand in his coat pocket to warm it.
Dmitri walked out on the dock to the Arctic Tern. He searched the ship without success, Camille was not on board. As he stood on the wharf, Dmitri lowered the lantern. He thought about Anya's hiding places as a child. The stable? Yes, why not? Camille might have concealed herself while he was busy lighting the lamp.
Dmitri unlatched the door. With the lantern held high, he burst through into the barn. Camille huddled in a corner, with one arm shielding her face from the light. He hurried over to her, placed the lamp on the floor and reached for her arm.
"Camille, you are soaked. You should have stayed in the house!"
She lowered her arm, then stared up at him. Her cheeks were a bright pink. "I hid outside when I heard the door open."
"All the time I was in here, you were outside in the cold?"
Camille turned her face away from him, but nodded in agreement. He unbuttoned the coat, stripped it off and bundled her into it.
"Why did you run from me? Dearest, you must know I would not hurt you."
She was shivering. Camille only shook her head. Dmitri pulled her to her feet and guided her to the door. He placed the lantern on the shelf and swung Camille up into his arms. On the way out he grabbed the lantern's bail handle. Dmitri kicked the door shut with his foot and stopped to listen as the latch fell into place.
At the porch, he blew out the lantern, leaving it there. Dmitri could find his way to the bedroom in the dark. Carrying Camille was almost more than he was capable of, but he must get her to bed.
Any help he might have called for was in the village celebrating Alexis’ escape from death. Anya might be the only one in the house. She would be little or no help, nor did he want her involved in the matter.
After placing Camille on the bed in her room, Dmitri tucked the covers around her with the fur coat on top. Once the coal oil lamp was lit, he built up the fire. When the room was warm, Dmitri removed her wet clothing. It was then that he found the letter. Crumpled into a ball, she still had it clutched in her right hand. The scrap of paper was the only dry thing about her.
The wet blankets got tossed into a corner of the room. He removed all the bedding from his bed and placed it around her. Once Camille was tucked in, Dmitri smoothed out the sheet of paper and read it. When finished, he crumpled it again, until his knuckles were white. A flick of his wrist sent the ball into the fire.
So, Camille knew it all now. Oh no, not quite all. Camille mumbled something. He would still have to tell her about Vanessa.
His wife had left him; Dmitri saw it clearly. She had gone as far as she could, on an island sitting in the middle of the wilderness. She had left him because of the letter. He had Vanessa to thank for the present situation.
"I think I will strangle the life out of her!" Dmitri whispered as he turned from the fire and went to stand beside the bed. Camille mumbled something again. Dmitri laid his hand on her forehead, she was burning with fever.
With a sigh, he brought the water basin and wash cloths to the nightstand. Dmitri laid cool cloths on Camille's head. After a while, he pulled the rocker over to her bedside. It would be a long night.
He dozed in the rocker with his hand over Camille's, so he would know if she moved. She tossed the covers away, then pulled her hand from beneath his. He awoke to pull the blankets around her again.
Camille's eyes opened; she glanced around her with a dazed look. She saw Dmitri in the rocker. He watched her eyes fill with tears.
"Papa, please help me."
Dmitri wrung out another cloth before he leaned forward to wipe her face. The fever still burned through her. Now he was her father, earlier, he had been her aunt.
"Hush love." He tried to soothe Camille as he sponged her dry skin.
"You do not understand," she cried, "someone is trying to kill me."
The cloth dropped from his fingers as he stared into her flushed face. A cold chill struck him. Dmitri shivered, as it passed. She had imprisoned herself in the house! Her happiness on the trip to Sitka, the tree that had narrowly missed the surrey, thanks to Stanislaus, it all made perfect sense. This was the thing she kept from him.
"Who? Camille who is it?"
"Papa, do not let him hurt me. Promise me." Her fingers clutched the blanket. "Please stop him."
Dmitri coaxed the story from her a little at a time. When she explained her reasons for not going to her "husband" for protection, Dmitri had to clamp his lower lip in his teeth to keep silent. Once she had shared the burden with someone, Camille drifted back into a restless sleep.
With her hand clutched in his, Dmitri watched the sunrise. Removing her from the island would be easy. But he doubted it would help. Whoever the lunatic was, he could follow them. In a city, it would be almost impossible to guard her. It was best if they stayed here. Someone would die, but not Camille.
This island was his home. He knew it as well as the natives did. Here, he could protect her. Whoever wanted Camille's life would have to go through him first. He would guarantee it would be difficult.
But it was best if no one suspected he knew Camille's secret. Until she was well, he alone would care for her. In her present state, Camille might repeat the story again. He did not know who or what might be behind this. Dmitri stroked her hand. He did not believe he could rest easy with Camille out of his sight.
For three days, Dmitri was Camille's only nurse. He catnapped in the rocker beside her bed. As often as it was possible to get her to take it, Dmitri spooned broth into Camille. He bathed her dry skin and changed her gown.
During the first day, everyone pleaded with Dmitri to let them help. With a twisted smile, he thanked them, before closing the door. When they realized it was useless to argue with him, they furnished the things he requested, contenting themselves with his reports on her condition.
On the evening of the second day, after handing Dmitri fresh water and clean linen, Helena and Tatiana stared at one another, as they stood before the closed door.
"He looks as if he is ready to drop."
Tatiana's face was grim. "I understand none of this."
Helena shook her head. "Nor I."
Tatiana laid a comforting hand on Helena's arm. "Our boy is strong; I believe all will turn out for the best. Perhaps he is just afraid of losing the both of them. He was distraught over the Countess Anya's death. We can only pray."
They turned and went downstairs to the kitchen. There, they reassured Anya her father and stepmother would be fine. They just had to wait.
Another late snowstorm was dumping heavy wet snow on the island, he thought it might be the tail end of the one which had battered the island for the last few days. Dmitri stood in the shadows, looking out the window.
He puffed on a cigar as he stared out into the night. Camille's fever had broken, and she was now sleeping. Dmitri knew he should take advantage of this time to sleep also, but he was restless.
The room was too warm. He felt the need of fresh air. Dmitri, clad only in trousers, was leaning against the window, one cheek on the cool glass. A faint sound from the bed caught his attention. He removed the cigar from his mouth, and listened, but all was quiet.
For the last few days, he had been everyone
and everything to Camille, including her first husband, Frank. She had no secrets from him now. Dmitri knew the details of the nightmare which had driven her to seek relief in laudanum.
He was grateful her fever had gone down. Camille's body could not have taken much more. He had been afraid she would lose their child. This far from the doctor, such a thing might be fatal.
"Dmitri."
The sound of her voice startled him. He almost dropped the cigar. He left the window and moved to stand beside the bed.
"Please hold my hand. I cannot sleep without you." He put the cigar in the ashtray, sat in the rocker and took her hand in his. "I love you, Camille. Do not leave me."
"I know, cher'. I will not leave." She whispered before she drifted back to sleep.
Dmitri held her now cool hand in his as he listened to her measured breathing. Even if they survived everything else, what he must tell her about Vanessa could be the final straw.
With a sigh, Dmitri leaned his head against the back of the rocker. He could not blame her if she left him. But, he did not wish to exist without her. He had been so incredibly stupid. Tatiana had cautioned him; still he had continued to see Vanessa. Dmitri dozed off with Camille's hand still within his.
***
Camille awoke and glanced over to the side of the bed. Her husband was leaning back asleep in the rocker. A dark shadow lay beneath his good eye. His eye patch was twisted, and Dmitri's hair looked as if it had not seen a brush in days. Unshaven, the darker hair of his beard made his fair skin look pale in the morning light.
Deep in sleep, his bare chest rose and fell with an even rhythm. Camille tried to pull her fingers from his hand. Dmitri's grip tightened convulsively. Lying still she waited and tried again. She freed her fingers but his hand lay on the edge of the mattress still.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 32
