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"I don't even like opera," she hurriedly answered, smiling sheepishly in his direction. She could see his eyes enlarge and grow bulgy. And she was amazed at how his cheeks could blow up like balloons when he grew enraged. She knew that he might even strike her with a blow from his cane at any moment.
When Clarissa entered the room, Eugenia breathed more easily, glad for the interruption.
"May I serve tea, Frederick?" she asked, holding her hands stiffly before her. Eugenia hadn't been able to figure out their relationship. Clarissa had said that they had been together for years and had even come from Germany together. But yet there was an apparent stiffness between the two of them when they spoke, even though they were on a first name basis. But, also, Eugenia knew that this was only while in her presence. In the evenings, while hearing Frederick's bath being poured in the bathroom adjoining hers, she had heard much…
"That would be fine, Clarissa," Frederick grumbled, pulling a small-lidded compact from his vest pocket. Eugenia's eyes widened as he put what appeared to be a white powdery substance on the tip of his forefinger, then sniffed it up inside his nostrils. Always after that, he would appear to be more calm, even glassy-eyed. She had begun to wonder if it wasn't some type of drug, making her remember the drugs that had been administered to her at the Old Homestead Parlour, and the effects they had had on her.
She watched in further silence as Frederick fitted his fingertips together, leaned his head back and shut his eyes, sighing deeply. Knowing that he wouldn't be talking for a while, Eugenia went to the long shelves of books and chose one for herself. She knew that she would have to wait awhile until Frederick would leave for the day, now that he was apparently in another world. She settled herself back down onto a comfortable chair and began to read, watching occasionally out of the corner of her eyes as Frederick would let out a deep rumble from his chest. She then knew that he was in a deep sleep.
"Has he fallen asleep already?" Clarissa said, entering the room once again, leaning down in front of Eugenia to hand her a saucer with a tiny, fragile teacup perched on it.
"Yes. As always, after we have a disagreement," Eugenia said, failing to mention the powder that she had seen him sniff up into his nose.
"I worry about him," Clarissa said, her thin brows furrowing. "I thought your being here would make things more easy for him. But just your presence hasn't been enough."
Eugenia shifted nervously in the chair and closed her book. "What do you mean, Clarissa?" she asked weakly.
Clarissa sat another filled cup down beside Frederick. "I can't say right now," she answered. "Maybe one day soon you will know."
Watching Clarissa walk away from her, Eugenia sipped the tea in silence. Her eyes settled back on the sleeping figure of Frederick. She had been puzzled by his comings and goings each day. He had kept her busy with voice lessons and other various interests in the house, but it hadn't kept her from wondering about his outside activities. His being home this afternoon was a rarity. He usually disappeared early in the morning and didn't return home until later in the night, after she had retired. It was very seldom that they carried on a conversation, or ate a meal together. Each day she sat at the long dining table, alone, with only the flickering of the many candles for her companions. She now wondered what Clarissa meant by her presence not being enough. Was he going to send her away? What else had he wanted her to do, but hadn't asked of her? Hadn't she pleased him by learning to speak correctly? He no longer had to correct her when they did carry on a conversation. She thought he was proud of her accomplishments. But, maybe, he had wanted to bring an opera singer into the world, a creation all of his own. And now she had told him that she hated opera. What was he going to do with her when his senses returned to him? She needed to have that walk now. To clear her mind. But she knew that if he awoke and found her gone it would only give him more reason to send her away. Completely away. Possibly out in the cold. She brushed her fingers over the softness of her dress and the fullness of her bosom. No. She doubted if she could ever live the way she had before arriving here. She would have to just sit, and wait.
* * *
Chapter Nine
The rattling of wheels from a carriage made Eugenia rush to her bedroom window. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Frederick was finally leaving. She knew that so many of the times he had seemed to disappear into thin air, suddenly not being present in the house, she hadn't seen him leave by carriage or horseback. It had been at those times that she had felt a bit afraid, not knowing where Frederick had managed to disappear to.
Like a child, she clapped her hands, watching the carriage move away from the house in the direction of town. The massiveness of the figure in the one seat could only be that of Frederick, sitting a little slumped, attired in black, and with his tall hat perched on his head, covering his sleeked down hair. And Eugenia could even see his pudgy fingers clasped onto the gold handle of his cane. She shuddered, hating his sweaty hands more than anything else about him. He had seen her withdrawal from his touch so often that he now very seldom bothered her by doing so.
"Now to get dressed for my outing." Eugenia giggled slightly beneath her breath. She still hadn't figured out how she would get past Clarissa, but she would manage somehow.
Hurriedly, she stepped out of her satin dress and went to her closet, searching. She chos
e a woolen walking suit of small, tan plaids. "Yes," she sighed. It was appropriate enough for this snowy day of December. She pulled it over her head and buttoned it up from the behind. Then she stood before the mirror as her fingers worked some loose auburn curls back into the pompadour that she now so proudly wore.
Her eyes hadn't yet grown accustomed to the "new" look. How stylishly the suit nipped at her very thin waist, only flaring at her extremely large busts, and much smaller hips. It had been so easy losing her much disliked heaviness. She even felt that she was almost as pretty as her sister Elizabeth.
"Oh, well," she shrugged. "I guess I'll do in a pinch."
Laughing gaily, she pulled her mink-trimmed cape around her shoulders and perched a round mink hat atop her curls. She grabbed her fur muff and thrust her hands inside. Then, twirling in front of the full-length mirror, Eugenia smiled warmly at her reflection.
"A picture of style," she said, but grew a bit sullen when her thoughts wandered to home once again, wondering what her Mama would think of her if she saw her now. Would she think Eugenia was pretty—or frivolous?
She went to a window and stared in the direction of the mountain. "My Berg," she said aloud, able to laugh again, realizing that there was one German word she would always be able to remember. "My mountain," she sighed once again, then fled toward her bedroom door, opening it slowly, listening, wondering which of the other twenty-five rooms of the house Clarissa could be in.
"Ah, I'm lucky, indeed," Eugenia whispered when she saw Clarissa enter Frederick's room, knowing that Clarissa's daily ritual of changing Frederick's linens had just begun, and that this ritual would keep Clarissa busy long enough for Eugenia to hurry down the spiral staircase and make a fast exit through the kitchen back door. She was afraid to leave through the front door, with Frederick's windows right above it, knowing that Clarissa would more than likely observe her escape.
Walking as lightly as possible across the highly waxed wooden floors, Eugenia made it past Frederick's door. Then holding only one hand inside her muff and her skirt and petticoats up with the other, she hurried down the winding staircase. Up to this point she had always enjoyed going down this staircase—it was so grand, making her feel like a princess—but now the many steps only irritated her. She knew that one look from Frederick's room, and Clarissa would put a halt to Eugenia's afternoon of fun.
"Finally," she sighed, as her feet made contact with the living room floor. She hurried through the living room until she entered a long, narrow hallway. She could smell the aromas of the evening meal already being prepared, smelling of roast duck and dressing. She only hoped the small Japanese cook, Kiyomasu, wouldn't tattle on her. But she doubted if he would. Eugenia knew that Clarissa and Kiyomasu were in a constant frenzy, disagreeing with each other about everything. Eugenia laughed, remembering Clarissa's favorite German nickname for Kiyomasu. She always referred to him as "klein mann" whenever they met face to face. Eugenia had looked that up in her translation booklet and had discovered that Clarissa was mocking Kiyomasu's stature in build… by calling him "little man."
Swinging a door open, Eugenia saw Kiyomasu, dressed in his usual white attire. His back was to her. He was lost in his kneading of dough, preparing loaves of bread for a week's servings. She crept on past him, then feeling his eyes following her, turned and smiled sheepishly in his direction. "Please don't tell Clarissa," she said quietly.
"Run along, Genia," Kiyomasu said, laughing. "I'm your ally in this house of crazies."
Eugenia's brows tilted upward. She hadn't ever heard Kiyomasu talk so freely of his feelings for his employers. But, of course, he only did this now, knowing he was safe in doing so, having checked behind before speaking.
In haste, Eugenia fled outside, stepping into the wetness of the snow. She at first lifted her skirt, then let it fall freely around her, not caring if its hem did get wet. The scene stretched out around her was all too magnificent. The sparkling of the snow on all sides of her almost took her breath away. And when her gaze settled on the hedge that fenced the yard, she had to laugh. It looked as though it had grown a crop of white hair, as the snow lay in soft evenness across its top.
