A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all my loyal reviewers. You know who you are. I appreciate each and every one even if I don't say it often enough. Welcome to my newest reviewer 1122.
Chapter Twelve
Angel of Mercy
Regret hit me as soon as I heard that final click. This roller coaster of emotions I am experiencing is unfamiliar yet at the same time feels like what I first felt for…No! I refuse to travel any further down that thought path. One woman and one alone should be by my side and she is cold and dead with dirt encasing her coffin. She was my one love, my one chance for happiness. I deserve nothing more than what I have and much of that I do not deserve. Being left to my own devices is no better than I deserve. Deserve? What I deserve? My illness is causing me to go soft. What I deserve is what I can take from this world. What I deserve is anything my heart desires and it does not desire to have the murderess of my beloved anywhere near me. There, that is settled.
If Howard doesn't come up soon to give me sustenance and some clothing I swear by all that is holy I will fire him. Meg's visit left me feeling off kilter. Self-pity rises to the surface then anger follows closely behind. Unreasonable or not I feel dislike for everyone building inside of me. Even Gustave earns his share. After all he left me quite happily as I recall. While I wanted to shout and cry buckets of tears he waved from the side of the ship at me.
Since he has been home it has been no better. With a happy smile on his face he leaves me to what may well become my deathbed for all anyone knows. Heartless beasts every last one. Why in my hour of need did I expect some sympathy, some small measure of commiseration for all I have suffered and continue to suffer?
Curses fill the air naming Raoul, Meg and Madame Giry the main causes for all my life's troubles. Knowing it isn't true does not keep me from blaming them during my illness. I am tired, hungry, without clothing and feeling more feverish by the second. No one is coming. They are going to leave me here to fend for myself or let me die while they party in my house. If I live to see tomorrow I will hunt each and every one of them down then kill them in a way that will cause the most pain, pain that will linger for days. I can do that. Was I not at one time also known as the Angel of Death in Persia? I must be getting delirious for I do not ever let myself recall those soul destroying days in Persia willingly.
Trying to calm myself I straighten the sheet as best I can. It is bunched underneath me and digging in places that make it hard to lie still. Using what seems to be a massive amount of my reserves I do manage to get the wadded cloth pulled out from under me. It is ridiculous that such a simple task leaves me so weak and out of breath. I'll worry about pulling it in its proper place later.
My door opens and in steps Meg with her back facing me. She is carrying a tray perched on her hip leaving her left hand free to close the door. So I am to be feed after all. I suppose it would cause trouble to explain my demise to the authorities or a bigger ordeal to try to rid themselves of my decaying carcass.
"Woman I thought I told you to leave," I growl accompanied by a growl from my stomach. I smell the aroma of cooked beef. Cook sent me some of her famous soup. At least she knows which side her bread is buttered on.
"Well I could take this tray back downstairs and eat it myself. I haven't had my own lunch yet," she offers as she faces me.
Folding my arms across my chest my runaway tongue disagreeably says, "Fine. Leave. I have no use for you or anyone else." A bold lie I shall likely regret if she does take heed and leave me to my own devices.
I am not to be starved after all is resounding around my head like a victory cheer. Her steps bring her to my beside. Laying the tray on the bedside table she puts her hands on her hips to look down at me with censure in every inch of her face. Bending down she begins to straighten my wrinkled bedding as she scolds, "Erik I swear you are such a child. I never would have guessed it but you are. Gustave acts older than you do at times. All these years I overlooked your tantrums. Now I see them for what they were, a little boy's outcries for attention. And before you toss out any more threats might I remind you it is a waste of precious breath at the moment. In your current state you'd have trouble whipping a flea."
Later I will take her to task for her daring words but for now I have other concerns. Being reminded how little I had covered does not soothe my growing temper nor does the brush of her hands on my skin as she wrestles with my bed linen. By God she will pay once I have my strength back. Once she deems the bedding as properly straightened she begins to feed me. I justify opening my mouth to the spoon of soup she presses against my stubborn lips as a necessary evil. If I die of starvation who will avenge my death when I am gone? Briefly I see a smile of satisfaction cross her lips then it is gone to be replaced with a blank air of indifference.
"While I feed you I will inform you of what we have planned," Meg states as if my cooperation in these plans is a foregone conclusion.
"Plans?" I ask with false calm. The soup is good and soothes the pangs of hunger I suffered due to their negligence.
"Yes, plans. Abigail, Howard and I discussed your care at length while you stewed yourself out of your tantrum. I have already brought a few things and will send for the rest in due coarse. I'll be taking the connecting room so I will be able to attend your needs during the night. Get used to the idea of a woman taking care of your needs Erik. Until you are able to move from bed to the facilities I will be your crutch. We have agreed that in this instance propriety shall be overlooked. Who is to know anyway? Your home is far enough from the city that only those in residence will know what goes on."
Nastily I say, "Just so. If I were to take it into my head to rid myself of an annoyance no one would be the wiser." Poor foolish woman. Does she not know that no matter how careful people are a good scandal has a way of finding its way to every dinner party.
Not missing a beat she returns, "Yes that has crossed my mind also. In fact that is a subject we discussed. We rejected the idea of ridding ourselves of a nuisance because of the trouble we'd have ridding the house of the evidence. So for now Erik, you are safe."
I swear I hear a threat in her words, a real threat. Nonsense, Meg wouldn't…Howard wouldn't…Cook wouldn't….Maybe Cook would. Our last meeting did not go well. Perhaps Meg has an ax or two to grind as well. Warily I sip at the soup. So many names of poisons flit into my mind with each bite. I know of many that are not detectable and leave the impression of death from natural causes. Meg's lips quirking settles the matter. She is having fun at my expense. Another offence she shall pay for once my health is back to what it should be.
After my lunch is consumed I learn my humiliation is not over as of yet. I ask for her to leave so I may make use of the facilities. I am in for a shock when she says calmly and matter-of-factly, "Erik you haven't been listening. I am taking care of your needs. You know as well as I do you cannot make it out of bed alone let alone across the room. You will need my assistance." Once again her face is covered with a schoolgirl blush that I know is deceptive. Hoping to gain the upper hand I am ready to gloat over her predicament but her gaze does not turn away from mine. Now it is I who feel the rush of color coming upon me. To cover that telltale foolishness I turn away and growl, " I will not let you assist me in my private tasks. Howard…"
She rudely interrupts me to say, "Howard has gone to town to purchase a few necessary supplies and to let the hotel know I won't be returning so they can prepare my bill. Any correspondence will be forwarded here."
Does Meg feel no shame? Telling the hotel she is moving in with me is tantamount to announcing to all and sundry we will be living in sin. So much for secrecy. She knew all along that she gave the gossips food for fodder until next season. I am not a social butterfly but I do have my business connections and would like to keep them in good standing. Looking as I do they will assume I have kidnapped Meg or worse, given her some drug so I may have my wicked way with her.
"Have you taken leave of your senses? You of all people should know what people are like. Did it not occur to that miniscule pea for a brain that your living here is not proper? If you care nothing for your reputation I certainly wish to preserve mine such as it is." Her lips quiver and her face pales. I am certain the waterfall of tears is not far behind. Meg proves herself to be more in control of emotions than I ever was as she straightens her spine and calmly folds her hands in front of her. If she is waiting for me to apologize she will grow old, whiter and die before that will happen.
"As you have pointed out many times I am not an innocent anymore. I care nothing for what others may or may not say or think of me. Christine….Christine and Maman were the only two people who mattered to me. Christine is dead and my mother has deserted me. You and I may not have been friends but I feel duty bound to return the kindness you showed me during my illness. You needn't worry. I won't take advantage of the situation and do anything silly like harbor secret hopes of winning your affections. You have told me how you feel and I have accepted that. Consider my nursing you back to health as a repayment for that debt as you returned the check I sent. Once you are mended we will both go our separate ways. Our paths need never cross again," she says with finality.
Without any further words Meg stalks over to my wardrobe to retrieve my robe. Tossing it at me she turns her back to me and instructs, "Put it on. It should be sufficient to preserve your modesty. When you return to your bed we shall see about putting on your night trousers."
I want to point out that my "night trousers" are in actual fact now called pajamas but to do so will only further her opinion of me that I am childish. At least she is going to let me don some clothing. I have been conscious of my nakedness since she first stepped into the room, if not consciously then subconsciously. With my body betraying me at every turn I need some shield to hide my shame.
By the time I drag on the robe then struggle to get to my feet my energy has all but drained away. Sitting on the side of the bed I gulp in much needed air. When I recover I must see if I can concoct some sort of preventative medicine against such illnesses. Chinese medicine is far more advanced than the rest of the world but they do not care to share their secrets. Lucky for me I decided to spend my time in the Emperor's castle copying the many scrolls kept by the Emperor's physician.
Never has such a short distance seemed so far as those few feet to my water closet. I did not dally once I finished my task. Meg refused to allow me the privacy of closing the door. Her only concession was to turn her back. Trying to rise from a sitting position once again nearly defeated me. Usually I am very diligent about cleanliness but today my hands get a lick and a promise as my knees begin to shake in an alarming fashion. If I disgrace myself by falling down or God forbid I faint as I am likely to do I shall strike out with the loss of my dignity. I have so little of it left.
I can't say God and I have been on close terms but in the last few months I have called out his name for one reason or another more times than I can count. Silent praises to God run through my head as I at last collapse upon my bed. Meg reminding me I need to stand to put on my pajamas draws a groan from me. If I had been thinking I could have had her pass me the bottoms while sitting down on the toilet. There still would have been the problem of standing then bending down to pull them up. I am not to escape any humiliation. Meg kneels down with my pajama bottom stretched between her hands. I lift one leg at time to find the correct leg for each one. I keep my eyes focused on the wall opposite me. I can feel Meg tugging at the garment signaling that I should stand. I can't do it. I won't do it.
A minute passes with me still seated on the edge of my bed. Meg huffs then stands to her feet to say, "Erik you are a very difficult patient. Let me help you lie down then maybe I can slide the darn things up your legs. If I toss the sheet over you that will preserve your manly pride perhaps. You may as well get used to having to bare all Erik as you can't take care of yourself and I am the only one willing to brave your temper on a constant basis."
Lifting, tugging and wiggling around reaped the benefit of at least being partially covered. Sweat coated both of us but we shared a mutual triumphant smile for a miniscule second when the task was completed. I didn't want her to feel too comfortable as I intended to see her out the front door if I had to toss her out myself. My current indisposition will have to improve before I can hope to even toss out an unwanted mouse.
My deliciously wonderful fantasies of just how I'll deal with Meg turns to so much bitter bile when I hear her next threat to my dignity. With her back to me she carelessly tosses over her shoulder, "I'll be up later to bring you some dinner. Afterward I'll help you take a bath."
I swear I hear gleeful anticipation in her voice. Before I can recover enough to make my objections known Meg is out the door closing it firmly behind her. I'd shout some very colorful phrases but she'd only tell me I am proving just how immature I am. Clamping my lips tight I nip the tip of my tongue. Tears of pain gather in my eyes. At least it kept me from hurling every foul word I know in several different languages including French and English.
Tonight I'll give Mademoiselle Margaret Giry her marching papers. Howard will be visiting an agency in the morning. I'd rather have a stranger tend to my intimate needs than Meg. I feel as if anyone in the world would be more acceptable than Meg. Using the excuse of her sin against Christine as my reason for my strenuous objections conveniently covers a motive I dare not examine too closely. Whatever punishment I have to endure I will welcome it as long as it keeps me from betraying Christine's memory and my love for her. I would die before I committed that final act of perfidy.