Province

Province

By Delores Cremm

Published by Delores Cremm at Smashwords

Copyright© 2015 by Delores Cremm

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PROLOGUE

May 10, 1976–Lores, France

Christopher Gilbert slowed the huge gelding's pace through a magnificent blanket of lavender in the countryside of the Duke of Lores’s estate, searching for a secluded spot for him and his fiancées' afternoon picnic. Since their arrival in France, the press interviews and crowded social gatherings overwhelmed the couple to the brink of exhaustion. Chris, an American oil tycoon, and Kathy, a direct heir to the Dukedom of Lores, together formed an aristocratic couple who made the latest novelty in every gossip column across the world. They met and fell in love in New York, but Kathy insisted on having the wedding in Frances amongst her family and closest friends. After their nuptials, they planned to return to America and reside in a small village in Vermont, which is a congregation of millionaires and the Vanderhault family, who held strong political ties within the community. Chris's sole knowledge of their new home was its given name of Gilbert Estate. He was pleased with Kathy's decision to abolish her modeling career with Kelly Norris Agency because of the tremendous scandals of Ms. Norris's lesbianism and his fiancée's involvement in compromising situations. He adored Kathy, but the women’s friendship dampened their future as man and wife.

Chris tethered his horse to a fallen log that met its end in a windstorm long ago, he helped Kathy from the brindle mare she named Fawn because of the animal’s gentle disposition, unlike the sturdy gelding he'd become accustomed to riding since their arrival in France. Kathy loved horses. She held numerous trophies for her showmanship and ability to handle the spirited beasts. Chris believed her to be his perfect mate, for she was wealthy and beautiful, well refined, and accomplished in the arts.

He placed his large hands around Kathy's small waist and lifted her from the horse while gazing into her eyes. My God, she's beautiful, he thought. Kathy blushed as though hearing his unspoken words.

Don’t you dare drop me, she said, flashing an enchanted dimpled smile, her voice light and airy.

If I did, you’d fall on top of me, Chris said.

That’s where you’d want me and I’m under the suspicion, Mr. Gilbert, you brought me out here for something other than eating.

And you spoiled my plans by bringing your servants along, Chris laughed. I'm wondering, are they here to serve or observe, because I will not make love to you in front of them, even though the French are considered freaky.

You will if I want you too, Kathy said, narrowing her eyes.

You’re a perverted little witch, he growled. My heart’s captivated by these little quirks of yours, but I’m jealous, you know. Your naked body is exclusive for my eyes and after tomorrow you’ll be all mine.

I’ll be yours until death do us part, she insured. Chris, father wishes to meet with you this evening regarding the Vanderhault marriage doctrine. The decree was written three hundred years ago and never to be broken. You see, divorce is forbidden in my family, and once a Vanderhault enters a marriage agreement and produces heirs, we have to remain married or be disinherited and I can’t allow that to happen, she said, looking far away and pursing her lips.

I plan to be with you for the rest of my life, Kat. My parents' marriage has lasted over thirty years and ours will, too.

For better or worse, she said.

You bet, he smiled.

Thoroughly satisfied from the simple meal of cold chicken, a green garden salad, sweet buttered rolls and a robust merlot wine, Chris rested on the soft red and white checkered blanket, gazing at the sparse fluffy clouds overhead in reverie and recalling the conversation of the Vanderhault marriage contract. He was not marrying Kathy short term–she was his life partner. He felt perplexed of her nervousness over the details of the edict and demanding assurance they would not speak of divorce. She was his soulmate and nothing short of death could tear them apart.

***

The Vanderhault-Gilbert wedding was a grand event, an eloquent arrangement by the world’s prominent coordinators. Kelly Norris’s top designer, Margaret Lovell, costumed the wedding gown; a beautiful ensemble tailored to fit Kathy’s lustrous body. The ivory silk gown was trimmed in gold thread and adorned with pebble diamonds on its low cut bodice. Kathy was indisputability pure magnificence as she walked down the aisle of the huge cathedral.

Amongst the guests were royalty from various parts of Europe. To Chris’s alarm, Kelly and her team of models attended as Kathy’s matrons of honor. A disquieted twinge of betrayal nagged at him as the women stood next to his bride at the altar. During the ceremonial prayer, he overheard Kelly whisper, An abortion would’ve been simple and less costly.

Chris confronted Kathy after the ceremony. He asked if she was carrying his child, and she denied it.

Why’d the bitch say something like that? he asked.

She gave an incredulous glare and asked him to contain his overactive imagination and not ruin her wedding day with the contemptuous attitude toward her best friend. She also revealed the astonishing news of Province, Vermont being Kelly’s home as well. Chris felt a wave of nausea by the confirmation of her betrayal.

CHAPTER ONE

Pure perfection, Rachel thought, driving through the wrought iron gates of Gilbert Estate and slowing her speed to absorb its spectacular beauty. The large varieties of roses were in full bloom with vibrant colors varying in dramatic shades of red, white and pink. Today was Tuesday and the gardeners remained dedicated to their task of attending the manor's impeccable grounds. They mowed and fertilized its enormous lawn, and cleared helicopter-shape seedlings of the indigenous sugar maple trees from the blue water of the great fountain centered on the circular driveway. Kathy was a stickler for her landscape. Everything must be picture-perfect, she would say. Hot tears stung the back of Rachel's eyes recalling the little woman's keen voice with a distinct French accent. She parked her car in front of the tri-level stone manor with immaculate burgundy carpet covering the front porch, appearing as though no one entered or left the home; which in fact was true at present, because the residents vacated in late June, over two months ago. Antoinette was staying with relatives in Wellington, a settlement in France, and Kathy now resides in the Vanderhault's family burial plot in Lores. Two months ago seemed a lifetime and ten months an eternity. Rachel reminisced while staring beyond the threshold, echoing bittersweet memories of her childhood in the vacant estate. Her beautiful face streaked with flowing tears as she pondered how it all came to this. A mere ten months ago, she and Toni were starting their final year of high school with much life ahead of them. She planned to attend Boston University with Bonette Vanderhault in the fall, and Toni was destined on becoming a great chef of Europe. Now their lives were different—it had taken a drastic turn, one that left them unprepared….

***

September 7, 1995–Ten months earlier

As the soft chime of the clock sounded once more, Antoinette Gilbert rolled over to silence the alarm. She’d hit the snooze button several times before fully awakening. With a hazy focus on the florescent orange numbers that read 6:25 a.m., she glanced down to notice an extra blanket placed at her feet in case of chills during the night. Kathy had visited her room as usual. She would adjust her covers, caress her hair and often sketch her while in slumbered state. Toni would lay still, feigning sleep during those visits. Eleven years ago, the woman showed up claiming to be her only living parent; but even as a child, Toni mistrusted her from the start. She sensed a mean spirit in Kathy, concealed in a beautiful face and sweet sounding voice, but malignance radiated from her person and deviousness flashed in Kathy's emerald blue eyes.

Toni sat up groggy on the edge of the bed, gathering her thoughts while gazing out her window through darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rising sun. She switched on the lamp on her nightstand, and felt a bout of sickness. Purposely left behind was a used sanitary napkin and her immediate impulse was to go and rip the hinges off her mother's bedroom door, but instead she shook off the nausea, rose from the bed, went to her private bathroom and retrieved enough tissue to dispose the disgusting item, residual of a demented woman. Then went to her armoire and selected her attire for the day.

Toni turned on her television for a weather update, which called for an overcast with a light drizzle and a high of no more than fifty-two degrees, amazing she thought, a week ago the temperature was a smothering eighty nine but right on target for a September day in Province.

In choosing her wardrobe, she picked out a short black leather jacket to fray the chill, a tight fitted cream-colored sweater with thin blue stripes around its collar and waist, and a pair of jeans with a razor sharp crease. Despite her masculine manner of dress, Toni was meticulous in her appearance. Her black Stetsons had a high gloss shine, the silk trouser socks she chose matched perfect with her black wife-beater and boxers. For jewelry, she decided to wear a platinum twelve-inch chain, the gold Rolex Kathy had given her as a birthday present, and one small diamond post earring for her left earlobe. Her cologne was light-scented musk oil for men. She’d visited Devon’s barbershop on Dozier Street to get her raven curly hair trimmed, which she wore in a short crop style, parted on the right side with an unruly curl dangling over her left eyebrow.

Antoinette had a light caramel complexion and stood 5 foot 8 inches in height with an athletic build. Her long eyelashes traced an incandescent pair of crystal blue eyes that darken in display of emotions. She had full, sensuous lips, a strong chin and a straight pronounced nose representing her French heritage. Toni's expression exhibited seriousness ordinarily with a quiet demeanor. She was by no means feminine or interested in that part of her being and felt comfortable wearing men’s clothing. To speak of dressing feminine insulted her. This was something Kathy managed daily.

Well satisfied with her wardrobe selection, she returned to the bathroom and peered at her reflection in the mirror, noticed a shadow of black hair growing on her upper lip. Time to break out the Nair, she thought, because I’ll be dammed if I go to that crackpot Dr. Vonringer for an estrogen injection. She opened the medicine cabinet retrieved a tube of hair remover, squeezed a small amount on her finger, dabbed it over the light mustache, dampened a washcloth, rubbed it across her upper lip and—problem solved, the hair abated in the cloth.

She turned on the shower, brushed her teeth, stripped nude, and examined her image in the mirror mounted on the bathroom door. Gazed at her well-formed body, ripples of muscles throughout her abdomen, defined broad shoulders and a small waistline but not the figure of a woman. Toni looked at her almost non-existing breast then down to her genital area. She had a vagina but there was something unusual about it. Her clitoris was every bit of three inches long, un-erect. She had a vagina opening and it secreted when sexually aroused, but at the age of eighteen, she still hadn't experienced a menstrual cycle. With an exasperated sigh, Toni spoke the words aloud, What in the hell am I, then shuddered at the thought of her deformity. Her body's unnatural development caused her to feel dismal and ashamed. She researched the condition and discovered she was intersex, a true epicene, born with both male and female genitals, with a dominance of male hormones. She made the decision of changing once she traveled to France. Her plan was to live as a man, but she was concerned about the effects of the synthetic estrogen she received over the years.

***

After taking extra care in her grooming, Toni grabbed her book bag, class schedule, and headed downstairs. Passing her mother’s bedroom, she noticed the light was on and heard the familiar humming of Kathy's voice. What the fuck is she doing up this early, thinking to herself as she hurried to the spiral staircase before Kathy opened her door.

Successfully, she made it to the lower level without an encounter and walked into the small dining room situated beyond the kitchen for informal meals. The room's attributes were a modest six-place setting contemporary round marble table with streamlined leather chairs and a gold and crystal chandelier hovering above. She smiled warmly, at Anne Barrett, who held the positions of housekeeper, cook, and nanny. Mrs. Barrett was more than a servant to Toni; she was, in a sense, the mother figure of her life. It was Anne, and Rachel's mother, Kelly Norris, Toni remembered as a toddler running about Gilbert estate. Anne and Kelly cared for her during the absence of Kathy. It was a dark day when the woman who loved and cared for her died of a fatal disease six years earlier. Along with Rachel, Toni grieved the loss of Kelly who showed her as much affection as she did her own child.

What will it be this morning? asked the tall, portly woman with graying brown hair and soft lines about her chestnut eyes. Anne gleamed in approval, noticing the diamond earring she had given Toni as a birthday present that sparkled in radiance with her eyes.

Something simple, Nana, Toni said taking a seat. And coffee please," she added then proceeded to read over her schedule.

Anne went to the kitchen and returned with a serving cart that had a pitcher of grape juice and a small silver coffee pot with matching cream and sugar decanters, giving Toni an adoring look as she poured a glass of the deep purple liquid.

Be careful not to spill juice on that beautiful sweater, she said in a maternal tone, leaving for the kitchen once more.

While skimming over her paper and pouring a cup of coffee, Kathy appeared in the dining room holding a sweater and mini skirt. Toni looked up, eyeing the articles in her hand but not acknowledging or commenting on their purpose. She sat in silence, hoping Kathy would not make some ridiculous request of her wearing the damned things.

Good morning honey, Kathy practically sang. I think you should wear this on your first day back. The skirt’s too short for me, but you’re young and this is the fashion for your age group. You need to show off legs to catch some eyes, Kathy winked.

Toni frowned and rolled her eyes in disgust ignoring the absurd suggestion. Kathy fluttered her long eyelashes, tighten her lips, waiting for a response and spoke again.

Sweetheart, this year you should try dressing more feminine, you’re older now and that tomboyish style isn’t becoming for a young lady of your status.

Toni took a sip of coffee, peering in her mother’s beautiful face, not saying a word.

Kathy grabbed the glass of juice, doused Toni with the contents, soiling her sweater, shouting, you’re not some damn man, you’re a girl and the hell if I let you walk out of this house dressed in this manner, young lady!

Utterly shocked, Toni leaped from her seat, tipping over the chair, and slapped Kathy with the full strength of her powerful vitality, causing her to hit the floor with shattering force. Blood spurted from her nostrils, and the clothes she held flew in the air and landed across the room. Kathy bit her bottom lip, causing the skin to break and bleed profusely. Stung from the intensity of her daughter’s blow, she tried to scurry away from another strike as white waves of pain crept into her consciousness. She knew another thrashing waited.

Anne rushed from the kitchen, horrified of Kathy’s bloody nose. What’s going on out here, she exclaimed, watching the tiny woman crawl away from further affliction. No, Toni, Anne screamed, fearing the dangerous glare of the girl's customary dilated pupils when enraged.

Look what the fuck she did to me, Nana! Toni spat, flaring her nostrils in anger. Her color now heightened to a vicious reddish-brown and her eyes a black slit of loathing odium.

Anne rushed to Kathy aiding her in protection from the additional brutality of Antoinette's temper. Attempting to diffuse the situation, she urged Toni to go and change.

Leaving the dining room, Toni scowled at Kathy, now crying and pleading forgiveness of her desires for appropriate dress.

Your appearance is too hard, Kathy gulped, as Anne helped her to her feet, wiping the blood from her nose and lip with a cloth napkin.

You pathetic bitch. Toni said through gritted teeth, leaving the room feeling revulsion. Her appetite evaded and her immediate thought was to get away from her mother.

Toni changed her sweater and chose a satin white shirt. Luckily, the juice had not soiled the pants. Her ruined sweater's absorption took care of the greater amount of liquid and prevented damage to her jeans. She pressed the servant button, hoping Anne was done attending Kathy, because she needed to retrieve her items from the dining room.

Anne answered and Toni closed her eyes in a prayer of graciousness. She asked the housekeeper to put her things on a table in the foyer and she would get them on her