Immortal Beauty (3 page)

Sasha knew just how proud her mother would have been. She alone in all the world would understand what this victory meant. All the times that Sasha had bragged to the other girls in her class that someday she would live in Paris and wear designer clothes, not the handmade costumes from her mother’s sewing machine meant nothing now. Grace would have known the satisfaction that Sasha felt whenever she thought of those schoolgirls teasing her over her poverty or mocking her dreams. Many times Sasha believed that half of her success was really just revenge hidden underneath layer after layer of pride. All this belonged to a past that no longer had anything to do with her. She was free. She was free of life in the Midwest filled with shopping malls and blue jeans and big hair. She was free of her father who stared at her accusingly day after day sniffing around the corners of the house like a dog who had lost its master. She was finally free of the large ugly houses all of the same color that were spreading across America like a bad rash. She laughed to herself as she thought how these large ugly monstrous vulgarities in brown, beige, or grey were now the accepted norm. What happened to beauty? Where did it go? Sasha was convinced that if there were any beauty left in this modern, dirty, ugly crowded world, it would be found in the streets of Paris. She hated Ohio her entire life and now she was freed of it forever with no reason ever to return. She never would go back again because the one person that could have made her come home again was gone now forever and so by dying, Grace had given her daughter the opportunity to live in the world of her dreams. This freedom certainly carried a heavy price and the price was daily servings of guilt and regret that never went away. Sasha paid the price willingly and with a great deal of humility, and every Sunday she went to Notre Dame and lit a candle for Grace, smiling every time knowing how much this one simple act would have pleased her mother. She would usually stay for a while and stare at the grandness of the place. Sometimes she would just wander along with the tourists and float along aimlessly with the stream of humanity. She never missed a visit to Our Lady. It had become a tradition born out of this new life. The past was gone and Sasha had an enormous talent for living in the present. All her life she had worked without cease toward the future and now that the future was here she did not want to miss one moment of it. She was happy now. She had gotten herself to Paris. She had found a job and an apartment. The hardest things were behind her now. She was truly just beginning to learn how to live after spending her life chasing a dream. The dream was now reality and had its own challenges and pitfalls she had never even considered. She met them all with a strong will and a smile. She had a “just dare me” approach to every obstacle that came her way which really came from being raised in the heart of America and the daughter of Irish parents. Her chestnut hair and dark hazel eyes would flash in the sun as she sauntered down Rue St. Dominique chasing the woman who refused to give her an apartment because she was a foreigner, and an American at that! She did not give up easily. She bothered this poor woman into not only giving her an apartment but bullied her into becoming friends. After all was said and done the petite concierge could not help but be fond of the pesky American who bribed and flattered and pushed her way into the building. Sasha had always been like that. If she wanted something to happen, then it was only a matter of time. She never depended on anyone else but herself to make her wishes come true. It was all up to her, every failure as well as victory was her own chosen responsibility and she relished the battle for success. There was so much of Sasha that was completely Midwestern in the way she fought for everything in her life, it was at the core of who she was.

Now she was giving up the battle to stay awake. She just lay in bed and stared out of her window with the lights off. She could see the slate gray rooftops and chimneys and brightly lit windows in the neighborhood all around her. She liked being surrounded by so much life. Every window portrayed another story of Parisian life. She never once felt alone in the four months that had passed since her arrival in January. She could see the clouds all lit up from the city lights below as they passed by more quickly than they ever did in Ohio. The clouds soon became figures prancing across the sky and the lights in the nearby buildings became flashing jewels. Little by little reason began to leave her and for a moment she thought she could hear voices speaking to her; voices that belonged to a different world. They were the voices of the past for surely she was dreaming now. Someone was trying to get her attention.

She was outside in the darkness now. She could hear the sounds of a river in the distance. What was she doing here? What was she looking for? She could not remember what it was but knew that it was extremely important and she felt herself growing more and more anxious in the enveloping darkness. She realized that she knew this place, dark as it was and that she had walked this path countless times. Why couldn’t she remember anything more? Many nights she had found herself thus improperly clad and wandering through the trees down a path that led to somewhere yet to be revealed. Her memories began to wash into her mind and she knew that she was missing something. What could it be? She had everything a modern woman could hope for; her own beautiful mansion in a fashionable area outside of Paris. She had more money than she knew what to do with and more friends than she cared to have. What was wanting in her lovely existence? It was a secret even to herself. She only knew that time and time again she would waken from a disturbing dream to make her way outside. It was the only thing that removed the darkness from her feminine mind. The moonlight seemed to cool her soul which was somehow caught in a struggle between the conscious and the murky domain of dreams. There was nothing to be done for it. The doctors warned her of melancholia and that she should retire to the South where she would find sunshine and flowers and ocean vistas. Perhaps she would pack up the household and head for Capri. Immediately she dismissed the thought as she realized that for some reason she wanted to stay exactly where she was and find the answer to this perplexing mystery. A rich and beautiful woman like herself had no reason to be caught in such a crisis. Besides her home was so very beautiful and large enough to accommodate the many friends who stayed with her from time to time. Right now the house was empty of course except for her mother and the servants. Her mother was too old to go anywhere now and found herself happy to sit in the orangerie or on the sloped terraces and watch the lovely gardens come to life. It was easily four or five acres.

She turned around quickly. The coolness of the night air seemed to soothe the fevered thoughts running around in her mind. She heard something and felt quite sure that someone was just there lurking behind the trees. She peered through the darkness to gain a vision of something that would confirm her suspicions. These days one could never be too careful. There were spies in the midst of her own salons and intimate circles. No one could be trusted for the people were hungry and angry and the nobility were rich and bored. It was a very dangerous combination and with the revolution in the New World not very long ago the situation seemed even more precarious. Even her salons of late had been filled with troubling news about uprisings and revolutions. She normally forbade political discussions and preferred art or philosophy, yet even she could not stop the wave that was rising up and engulfing all of France. She was old enough to know that there are some things larger than one’s self and stronger than the individual. One had to learn how to yield like one of the enormous plane trees that grew in her park which bent sometimes impossibly to the strongest of gales. She could see no one and heard nothing more as she looked around one more time before returning to the house.

“I’m afraid I’m becoming eccentric!” she half whispered to herself and then laughed. First she is drawn into the night by something she cannot define and now she found herself retreating because of some threat she cannot see. Perhaps it was her intuition. She knew that something was coming but she could not name it. It was the most helpless of feelings and she fought the sense of terror it brought to her breast.

“Madame!” A shrill voice cried into the night. “Madame, what are you doing here?” She looked down at her feet. They were covered in the daintiest slippers of light pink with little oriental flowers embroidered in burgundy, or was it black? “Madame! Please come inside! You will catch your death on a night like this.” She suddenly felt very confused. Was she still Sasha or was she someone else? The moon was bright and the cold light was streaming though the branches making dappled pools of blue and green and gray appear randomly throughout the place. It was breathtaking and frightening at the same time. The voice roused her out of her contemplation and now the voice was becoming louder and more urgent.

Madame! If you do not come in right now I am going to call for the doctor! I must say you are behaving like a mad woman. If I did not know better…” The voice trailed off. Sasha began to remember. She turned around and gasped in wonder. Just behind her was the grandest of houses. There was a large terrace running the length of the house. The building was three stories high and built most peculiarly right into the side of a hill. It was made of Caen stone with tall windows running from floor to ceiling throughout the façade.

“This is my house.” She whispered, afraid of appearing any more mad than she already did. On the terrace she saw an elderly woman with shock white hair gaping at her. The woman had obviously been sleeping as she was dressed in a heavy robe and had nothing on her feet. Her hair was sticking up all over the place giving the woman the appearance of a specter from beyond. Sasha’s memory was returning slowly as the dream progressed, for this had to be a dream! She was no longer Sasha but Helene Corbet the owner of the fabulous chateau. She was the woman of the dream and she stepped into the role and allowed the dream to become her reality.

“Honorine! Really you must go back to bed and stop all this nonsense. This is my house and my garden and if I feel like taking in some fresh air then it is no one’s business but my own!” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. She treated the whole affair lightly hoping that her maid would do the same.

“Honestly Madame I must insist that you put on a cloak or a fur perhaps to shield your delicate nature from the cold. I brought one out of your wardrobe when I saw you standing out here in the moonlight. At first I was full of fright thinking you were a ghost but then I realized it was you. My very own mistress wandering around in this air with nothing on but a night dress!” The woman waddled toward Helene carrying the heavy cloak in her hands. It was the darkest of velvet and the sight of it warmed Sasha’s heart. She suddenly missed her mother and hoped that she was here somewhere inside the mysterious chateau on the side of the hill.

“Honorine! Stay where you are, your feet are bare! I will come to you.” She glanced once more into the trees. Was there someone out there waiting for her? Did she have a meeting with someone; a lover perhaps? Had she arranged a secret rendezvous in the middle of the night? If only she could remember what she was looking for out there. If it was to meet someone if must be a secret and she immediately felt the need to usher Honorine back into the house so there would be no witness. She smiled begrudgingly at the old woman who obviously cared so much for her and she allowed the woman to place the cloak securely around her shoulders, even letting her tie the satin ribbons that pulled it together. Well, at least she was warmer now and her smile became truly genuine.

“Thank you my dear. Now you can go back to your room and catch up on all the sleep that you have been missing lately.” She took the pale wrinkled hand into her own and held it in a gesture of intimacy and kissed the sweet woman on both cheeks. She smiled again at the wild figure of Honorine at night. She would have frightened anyone who did not know her. She hurried the maid inside and returned once more to the grand park which lay before her sliding gently all the way down to the Seine. She followed one of the immaculate paths all bordered with irises and roses and even at night the fragrance could be overwhelming. She moved slowly and regally away from the chateau toward the sounds of the river. Now she was in the midst of the small forest of chestnut trees and found herself afraid. These were dangerous days as the poor were growing poorer and the rich were becoming richer and more indifferent to the needs of the masses. The government increased the taxes each year for some endless war campaign that never seemed to cease. Paris was devoid of young men as they were all off fighting for France. There was unease about the Austrian princess and no one could say a kind word about her with the rumors of her spending and gambling and even hints of a lesbian lover! It seemed as if she were throwing her riches in the faces of the starving people and laughing the whole time traveling from one party to the next. Times were changing and Helene was suddenly grateful that she never accepted any invitations to court. Of course she simply declined because she found the world of Versailles and the intrigues of the court bored her beyond imagining. She was born with a title and money and never once thought of it as anything other than the way it has always been. Now she was not so sure. She gathered from her servants the horrors of the people. Their suffering was growing daily and Helene could no longer turn a blind eye. She had to be careful though as her friends and relations had no interest in changing the way of life that gave them the upper hand. The were happy with the system that took a small part of the population and made them entitled while most of the people had no rights at all and these days no bread which only caused more unrest. Her friends would never relinquish their titles or property to help the common man. Yet in America the common man had overthrown the queen of England and now in Paris there was so much talk of revolution that she felt she could not stand another mention of such things. It filled her with terror. Even now it was impossible for her to go shopping in the city for the mobs had become unstable and violent. One of her maids was accosted after descending from her mistress’ carriage because it was obviously the carriage of a rich person. Her maid escaped relatively unharmed but her description of the event so horrified Helene that she decided not to try to gain access into Paris until all this trouble was over. The ambassador Benjamin Franklin was considered a hero and was worshipped by the French. Even the court at Versailles granted him audience of His Majesty. This was surely not a good idea. His very presence sparked the flame of unrest into a wildfire that threatened all of Europe. He was living proof that the common man could rise up from the ground and aspire to better things. These were all very dangerous things in and of themselves and combined they scared Helene in a way that she had never been frightened before. She found herself being drawn from her idle and luxurious life into a battle that she wanted no part of. All her life she was accustomed to an easy existence and now she was helpless against the tide that was threatening to sweep over the entire country.