Clarissa rose, walking back toward the closet, and let her fingers work their way through the many clothes once again, pulling from them a white chemise. She held it up for Eugenia to stare upon. "This will be your attire for this evening," Clarissa said, stretching it out across the bed, then hanging the green satin dress back inside the closet.
Eugenia rose and went to the chemise. She let her fingers run over its softness with the delicate white lace trimming the front. "It's so beautiful," she sighed.
"We must get you into the bath first," Clarissa said, opening another door. "I'll begin to run the water while you undress. Would you like my assistance with your hair or your bath?" she added, turning back in Eugenia's direction.
Eugenia blushed. "No, ma'am," she answered. "I can take care of it all by myself."
"Well, then. Hurry along," Clarissa said, stepping away from Eugenia.
When Eugenia heard water begin to splash, she began to unbutton her dress, hoping Clarissa would disappear before she disrobed completely. She would never grow accustomed to another woman seeing her nude. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling somehow, remembering Madam Valerie, and how she had abused her body. She didn't want to give any other woman that opportunity.
"I'll leave you to your bath now," Clarissa said, picking up the dress Eugenia had let fall to the floor around her ankles. "I'll discard this appropriately," she said further, hurrying on out the door.
Eugenia pulled her petticoat over her head, then sat down on a chair and pulled her boots from her feet. It felt good, getting her toes free once again. And even more so to curl the carpet between her toes.
Smiling lazily, she walked to the bathroom and stopped in further wonder. The room was one of mirrors, reflecting her image back at her from many angles. Then her eyes settled on the tub. It was sunken into the floor, filled with bubbles, almost to its handles of gold. The fragrance of jasmine urged her onward, making her step downward into a heavenly warmth. She slithered on down until her body was relishing in the softness and warmth. She shut her eyes, letting her hair capture some of this, feeling as though she was floating in another world. She splashed some suds on her face, laughing. She hadn't had to come far to feel like a lady. When she got through with herself this evening she would be one for sure.
* * *
Chapter Eight
The snows had returned to Mount Pisgah. Eugenia looked out her bedroom window at the vast whiteness. She knew that she couldn't return to her parents' homestead until next June or July, even if she wanted to. And this being the first part of December, it made a feeling of fright surge through her. The past two months at Frederick's house had been times spent in sheer heaven, but yet, she didn't like feeling as though she was imprisoned in the town of Cripple Creek.
Turning, she walked gracefully across the room and stood before the full-length mirror of her vanity. Her transformation to a lady was now complete. Her eyes even seemed to be less far apart with her loss of weight and her new hairdo. Her fingers went to the puffed pompadour crowning her head, touching the soft folds of its curls. And she had even grown to accept the straight bangs that Clarissa's fingers had so deftly cut and shaped for her. Then her eyes settled on the pale green satin dress and how its smoothness accentuated her trim waistline. She straightened her back, admiring how the low cut bodice showed off her magnificent bosom. With trembling fingers, she touched the curves, having so longed for a man's touch. How many nights she had dreamed of being with Drew, stretched out beneath the stars, his lips teasing her erect nipples as his hands created small fires on her skin. She now doubted if she would ever see him again. It had been too long. And Frederick had begun to make her stay closer to the house since she had become a picture of beauty… and desire. But she was determined that she was going to get out this day, if she had to sneak out the back door. There was no way Clarissa was going to stop her as she had done in the past weeks. No! Eugenia had made her mind up. She was going to take a walk, experience the crispness of the air, watch the people shop. Christm
as was only a few weeks away. Pangs of loneliness for her family surged through her, knowing that this was to be the first Christmas away from them. She wasn't even sure if she could bear it. But she knew that she didn't have any choice.
Pulling her full skirt upward, she marveled at the cambric petticoat trimmed in Valenciennes Lace. Until Frederick, she hadn't known such beautiful petticoats even existed. She smiled, knowing that being able to dress in such grand style was going to lessen her feelings of loneliness. And she knew that Frederick would shower her with many more such dresses, helping her to forget Drew, her family, and anything else. Yes, this was what she had dreamed and longed for, for so many years. And now that she had it, she knew that she couldn't live any other way. But yet, there was this yearning to be with a man, have a man who didn't only admire what she wore, but also her, as a person. But she had to brush such thoughts aside. Although Frederick hadn't approached her in any way sexually, she knew that she was possessed by him, and what he could give her.
With sweeping gracefulness, Eugenia almost floated down the spiral staircase, not pausing before she entered the library. As always, the amount of books lining the walls seemed to draw the breath from her. How she had always loved to read. Back at her parents' homestead, she had loved burrowing through box after box of books that her father had brought with him on his long voyage from Nova Scotia. After he taught her to read, her need for learning had never lessened.
"Ah, so you've decided to share your company with me this afternoon," she heard Frederick say from behind her.
She turned and found him slouched down deeply, almost hidden in a maroon velvet high-backed chair, with his legs stretched outward onto a hassock before a blazing fire. Eugenia had never ceased to be amazed by the amount of fireplaces in one house. There seemed to be one in every room. But the house was so large and drafty, she welcomed the presence of a constant feeling of warmth from the fireplaces. She lifted her skirts, the silk of her petticoat rustling noisily, and walked toward Frederick. She hadn't grown to be fond of him in any respect. He still always resembled a funeral director with his dark suits and slicked down black hair. But she had fast learned the game of "pretend." To make him happy was to be happy herself, but only because of what he could buy for her. She had at one time thought she might learn to feel like a daughter, but this hadn't happened. Even though he showered her with earthly possessions, he hadn't treated her like a daughter. In fact, puzzling to her, he hadn't treated her in any one way. It was as though he just had her around to look at her. Or maybe to say that she was his. But nothing else. Eugenia had pushed the word "why" from her vocabulary, not wanting to find out the true reasons. She had decided to just enjoy it, while she had it. She went before the fire and sank down into a fluffed-up cushion, spreading her skirts around her like petals on a daisy.
"And how was your night at the opera last night?" she asked, trying to "pretend" to be truly interested.
"Magnificent, my Eugenia," he purred. "The crowd gave a standing ovation to the performers."
Eugenia frowned, making her full lips droop into a more noticeable pout. "When are you going to take me to your opera house, Frederick?" she asked, working with the lace on her petticoat that was exposed below the hem of her dress.
Frederick laughed deeply, then wiped his brow with a folded handkerchief. "It's too soon," he said. "When your voice lessons are complete, then I shall present you to the public."
Eugenia was proud of what she had accomplished. The voice teacher had succeeded well in teaching her the correct manner in which to speak, but he had lacked in the area of teaching her the ways of being an opera singer. Even now, her voice ached from the strict rehearsal of the day before. She could still hear the scratching of her voice as she had tried to reach the higher notes. No, she knew that she wasn't meant to be a singer. But, Frederick wasn't prepared quite yet to take no for an answer. It seemed all he had on his mind was opera music. She watched in disgust as he rose and walked toward his victrola. She knew that at any moment she was going to have to listen once again to the opera Tristan sung in German. How she hated it. She hated the fact that she couldn't understand one word being sung. And this, too, made it impossible for her to become an opera singer. She was finding it very hard to learn the German language. Her tongue seemed to endlessly get in the way.
"Ah!" Frederick sighed. He threw his head back and shut his eyes as the first notes reverbated through the high-ceilinged room. "Such magnificence I've never heard," he said, tapping his cane on the floor, keeping time with the music. "This was indeed Wagner's masterpiece," he added, walking back toward Eugenia. She noticed how alive the music seemed to make him, his eyes sparkling, and his face growing more flushed than it normally was.
She turned her eyes toward the fire as he sat back down beside her. "I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you, Frederick," she mumbled, pulling her knees upward to clasp her arms around them.
"And how will do you that, my dear?" he asked, leaning up, eyeing her closely.
"I cannot learn opera," she said, afraid to hear his next words.
"It takes time," he said, placing a hand on her arm. Again she hated his touch, the wetness of his pudgy fingers.
"But, you don't understand," she said further, moving her arm away from him, knowing that he always noticed her withdrawal from his touch. She was glad when his full figure relaxed back on the cushions of the chair once again.
"And what don't I understand?" he asked.