The curse of Kalaan (14 page)

“Some say they don’t know her and others say they’ve seen her on the isle, but don’t remember who her father was.”

“What do you mean?” Virginie, surprised by this information, looked at her reflection in the mirror, where her gray-blue eyes sparkled back at her.

“Well, Mam’selle, the old count, Lord Maden, of Croz, had no brother, but he did have several first cousins. And no one knows which of them is Mam’selle Wildca...uh... Catherine’s father.” Gwendoline corrected herself, but not fast enough. Virginie broke out laughing.

“I have an idea we will not be bored.”

“For sure! Oh, you look so lovely.” Gwendoline admired her young mistress who straightened up on her seat. “It’s nice to see you wearing bright colors again. Your father would not have liked to see you forever dressed in black, like a raven.”

“My dear father…” Virginie murmured, containing her emotion with difficulty. “You’re right Gwendoline, and that is why I chose this blue dress. It was his favorite color.”

Virginie was wearing a magnificent cerulean blue velvet dress with delicate lacework and embroidery in a much lighter color on her bodice and around her neckline, opening out onto her shoulders. The same color trimmings were on her sleeves that puffed out at the top and slowly tapered down to be much tighter at the wrist.
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The lavish bell shaped skirt was shortened at the hem to reveal booted ankles and the beautifully embroidered crossed bodice showed off Virginie’s slender waist. Around her neck she wore her mother’s delicate gold chain with a sapphire from Ceylon, carved in the shape of a drop. From her ears, hung two more almost identical stones. Gwendoline, who had gone to the wardrobe, returned to adjust the beautiful cotton and lace scarf necessary to cover the deep plunging neckline of her bodice, in Virginie’s mind one of the biggest disadvantages of the ‘romantic’ style. Finally, she was ready to go downstairs, join her hosts in the sitting room and… face Kalaan.

In the next room Kalaan was just getting out of his bath, a towel wrapped around his female body. He went over to the chair where he’d left his men’s clothes lying and he froze, swearing fiercely. He then shouted out into the hall.

“Isabelle, you pest!”

His sister, it could only have been her, had waited until he was in the bath to go into his room and take his clothes! In their place now lay undergarments, stockings, petticoats a corset, a hideous thick black wool dress and boots that looked far too small for his feet. These were Grandmother Anna’s clothes!

Of course Isabelle never appeared, despite his calling for her. Kalaan started blaspheming. The way he looked at the horrible clothes reeking of mothballs, they could just as well have been a heap of sheep manure.

“You wish to play, dear sister? Then play we shall,” he said throwing his damp towel to the floor.

How difficult could it be to put all these things on? After all, he had helped many women get undressed, so he had some idea how they worked. Kalaan took the petticoats and began jumping up and down. It turned out to be impossible. He found himself battling with the clothing as would have with the English enemy. There was the sound of fabric tearing, but he did finally manage to put the dress on. Indeed, his grandmother and Catherine were the same size in clothes. However, ‘big-footed Anna’s’ boots were too small. Kalaan’s toes were squeezed in so tightly they felt like over-stuffed sausages, ready to burst. He found it very difficult to pull on the boots over his bare feet, because he refused to wear any stockings. Kalaan walked very carefully to the door and nearly twisted his ankle a dozen times.

“Blasted heels! Oops!” He continued to rant as he grabbed the door handle to prevent himself from falling.

Just before leaving, he looked around the room and realized he’d forgotten something on the chair - the corset. His beautiful full-lipped mouth broke into a smile. And a great feeling of joy came over him as he left his apartments for dinner. His mother and sister would be proud of him, and return his own clothes before the end of the day. Blazes! He was so hungry, he could eat a horse!

              Everyone was already seated at the table in the big dining room. The dowager countess sat at the head with Virginie and Isabelle on her right. On her left were Salam and an empty place setting. The only people missing from the table were Kalaan and Catherine — two people for one place setting, which was very strange as it meant that only one of them was expected. At Amélie’s discrete signal, the butler had the servants serve the first course, a delicious, creamy fish soup.

Amélie slowly sipped the warm liquid, enjoying every spoonful. Everyone else followed suit, and was eating in silence according to proper etiquette, when all at once they heard a huge ruckus in the entrance hall.

Virginie’s heart jumped in her chest and she looked towards the double doors, spoon in mid air. She secretly hoped Kalaan would appear, but that was not to be.  One of the doors opened and Catherine appeared, her dark hair disheveled and her cheeks red from effort. She looked around the room, livid.

“Please forgive me for being late,” she said in her lovely crystalline voice, “but these confounded boots are pure torture and almost made me fall down the stairs. Please, continue your meal and pay no heed to me!”

Once again, Virginie had to hold back her laughter; she put her hand to her mouth and gave a little cough. Salam, on the other side of the table also found it difficult to control himself. He was still wearing his cheich and traditional clothes, but his mouth was uncovered revealing lips that were curled in a slight smirk and his dark eyes were sparkling with humor.

Isabelle and Amélie were overcome with indignation and made no effort to hide it. They both gasped in horror when Catherine pulled out her chair, deliberately scraping it on hardwood floor. Why hadn’t they thought to put the rug back after the room was cleaned? The unbearable young woman took her seat on Salam’s left, just across from Virginie. Grabbing both sides of the chair, she slid it forward until she was close enough that her chest was touching the table and could place her elbows and hands on the tablecloth. Leaning over to grin at her aunt, there was a loud sound of fabric ripping. Virginie had to lower her head to hide her smile when she saw Salam lean backwards to look at Catherine’s back and hold back a chuckle. The scene was so surprisingly comical; Virginie had never seen anyone act in this manner, and most certainly not a woman of proper upbringing. Catherine sat up straight and, still grinning idiotically, looked at everyone around the table. When her eyes crossed Virginie’s, Catherine winked.

“May we serve, Madame?” Clovis, the bald headed ceremonious butler had been with the family for many years.

“Please do,” Amélie assented while shooting admonishing looks at her niece.

A young servant placed a dish of the soup in front of Catherine, but jumped back when she slapped him heartily on the back saying, “Thank you my good man!”

After which she dipped her spoon in the soup, brought it up to her mouth and made a loud slurping noise. She continued in this manner, and when she got to the bottom of the dish she noisily scraped the rest of the soup with her spoon.

“Kal...
Catherine!
”
Amélie, was furious and almost called her son by his name.

“Yes, Aunt?” Catherine replied, innocently.

Amélie decided to address Salam instead, so she turned to him and smiled politely. “Are you well rested, sir?”

“I could not sleep in the wardrobe, Madame, but your rugs are of excellent quality and served well as a mattress.”

“In the wardrobe… and you slept on the …rugs?” Amélie was stammering in amazement and Isabelle quietly laughed.

“I believe, Mr. Salam was speaking of the Breton bed, mother.”

Virginie bit her hand again to keep from smiling. Salam thought the Breton style cabinet bed was a wardrobe! How adorable, and yet hilarious at the same time!

“Mmm... yes... So… you participated in all of my son’s adventures in Egypt, I believe. That must have been fascinating.”

“I was never bored, Madame.” The Tuareg’s reply was short and simple. Apparently, it was not simple to start a discussion with him so Virginie tried another approach.

“Will the count not be joining us?”

Keeping her eyes on Catherine, Isabelle quickly replied. “My brother can only go out during the night.”

“Oh? Really?” Catherine asked raising an eyebrow and scratching her head as if she had lice.

“Yes,” Isabelle replied, squirming at Salam’s piercing expression. “He has a problem with his eyes and he cannot go out in daylight— something to do with the bright Egyptian sun. But he will recover, won’t he Mr. Salam?”

“Or not,” replied the Tuareg who hated lying, but also enjoyed making Isabelle feel uncomfortable and watching her blush.

The meal continued in this manner, monologues, strange glances and outraged expressions, exchanged among Catherine, Isabelle and Amélie. When the young cousin grabbed a piece of chicken from the platter and gustily bit into it, Virginie thought she’d burst into laughter again. Later she almost lectured Catherine when she wiped her greasy fingers on the front of her horrible dress.

It was not her role to teach the young woman proper manners. But she could take the cousin under her wing and show her how to behave like a lady. Yes, Virginie liked the idea! She would teach Catherine how to act like a lady.

Amélie stood after dessert and the others followed suit… except for the wildcat. She was busy licking her plate to get these last of the melted chocolate.

“You may go about your business; feel free to do whatever you wish.” Amélie held her long slender fingers on her temples.

Salam bowed and slowly walked out of the room, shooting a stunned look at his friend. He had never seen Kalaan act with so little dignity. The count was not an easy person, but he was not a pig either. Virginie followed Salam out but stopped in the entrance hall to wait for Isabelle. The servants went by carrying the dishes followed by the butler who had a disdainful look about him.

The dining room door was not completely closed, and Virginie heard Catherine ask in a voice dripping with sarcasm,“Must I continue to wear dresses?”

“For pity’s sake!” Amélie raised her voice. “Wear the men’s clothes if that is what you wish; nothing could be worse than your behavior at the table!”

“So,” asked Isabelle with a sad voice, “It was all just a game for you?”

“And you were not enjoying yourself?” Catherine retorted. Then she sighed heavily and added,“You must try to understand that what I am going through right now is so very trying. Please, leave me with some semblance of dignity. Dressing me up in dresses and feminine trinkets is, well, like cursing me a second time.”

“Oh.... my poor Catherine,” Amélie replied, very touched.

Virginie slowly and silently backed away from the door and went up the wide staircase leading to the upper floors. She decided she needed to get some air and put on her fur-rimmed cape. The storm had passed and the sun was shining through the remaining clouds.  She was going to take advantage of the break in the weather and go for a walk.
She needed to think and try to make some sense out of everything. A walk on the tracks to the circle of stones would help clear her mind.

Chapter 10

Getting to know Virginie

            
 
B
ack in Catherine’s room Kalaan went to the bathroom to rid himself of the dress, petticoats and life-threatening boots. Finally alone, he would be able to have some peace and reflect on the recent events.

Dinner had been quite trying for his mother and sister, but it was not easy for him either. He realized he had acted like a perfect swine and he hated himself for it. It was, however, a necessary evil. How else could he make those two stubborn women understand what he was going through?

And what in the blazes went on in their minds that made them dress him up like a woman and call him Catherine? Kalaan could have easily stayed hidden in the longhouse during the day when he was the
thing
and only shown his face at nightfall. That was his original plan. He would have taken advantage of the short winter days and those who knew nothing of the curse wouldn’t have noticed a thing. But no, the ladies who should have been in Paris, had yet again decided otherwise. Not only were they not where they should have been, but they also invented an outlandish story about a second cousin.

The emotional shock of witnessing his transformation must have disturbed them more than they showed for Amélie and Isabelle to play doll with him. Well, perhaps it was the case with his mother, but when it came to Isabelle, Kalaan suspected his sister of enjoying some form of revenge.

But he also had to remember that everyone was surprised by Virginie de Macy and Lil’ Louis’ momentous arrival at the longhouse. So, Amélie and Isabelle weren’t really very perturbed after all and, if he were honest with himself, Kalaan should thank them for their intervention.