Chapter 25. April 1887. Second week after the wedding (continued).

Soon after, the two men entered the hallway of the underground house, once Erik had unlocked his front door. "I must say this is a far better welcome than I received the last time I visited you," said the Persian sourly.

"Well, daroga, if you will go about breaking into people's houses in the dead of night, then you deserve what you get," answered Erik, having calmed down during the trip across the lake, and now making a great show of sounding excessively virtuous. Then he turned sardonic. "Do you know I could have killed you for it and been immune to prosecution? French law allows someone to do away with an intruder who breaks into his house after dark. It is assumed automatically to be self-defence in that case."

The Persian rejoined, "Somehow I strongly doubt that you bear legal title to this place, Erik – " He indicated the house with a sweeping gesture. "And therefore that law would have been inapplicable, as you could not have been proven to be the owner of the property which was being broken into."

"Enough of this nonsense," snapped Erik. "Let us move on to what we came here for, and then you can go away and leave me in peace."

They went into the parlour, only to find no sign of the house's new mistress.

"Hmmm. Perhaps she has gone out, and your vulgar curiosity will have to go unsatisfied, daroga? No – I saw her keys on the hall tree. Why, daroga, you should have seen how quickly she learned how to work Erik's lock, after he showed it to her! She is such a clever girl!"

"And you, my friend, are besotted," said Mihr dryly. "I never would have believed it of you. How the mighty have fallen; you are revealed as human after all."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, daroga. Leave that to those who are experts in it – " There was a crash from the bedroom, and Erik turned instinctively in that direction. "Ah, I believe I know where she is. I wonder if she was trying to get something down from a high shelf, and dropped it? If so, she should have waited until her husband was at home. I can at least be of use to her in that way. Wait here and I will fetch her."

He went into the Louis-Philippe room, only to find his wife half in and half out of her gown. Her dressing table's chair lay on its side, explaining the crash.

"Christine, what are you doing? Why are you changing in the middle of the day?"

Her head popped out of her skirt as she yanked it over her head, and she glared as she tossed the garment aside. "Because I was tidying the parlour in a grubby old house dress! I didn't expect you to bring anyone home! You never do!" She snatched up a silk skirt that was laid across the bed.

"My apologies," said Erik, abashed. Showing off his new wife had begun to seem like an attractive idea on the way back, but it hadn't occurred to him that Christine had had no warning of a visitor. Contritely he said, "There is no need to rush so. That old busybody can loiter in my parlour a while longer. He's the one who tricked Erik into bringing him here, to prove to him that you were happy being Erik's wife, and did it of your own accord. It is his own fault if he is kept waiting. "

"He tricked you?" said Christine, eyebrows raised as she shoved her arms into a new bodice.

"Ah – " Erik realised suddenly how embarrassing that was. "Certainly not," he answered, affecting a haughty air. "I knew what he was about the whole time."

"Then why did you go along with it? I would think you would have just told him you weren't fooled, then? I thought you didn't want him to come to the house." Righting the chair, she dropped into it and began neatening her hair, which had seized the opportunity to begin escaping from its pins.

"It is impolite to leave a guest waiting too long," said Erik hastily. "I will go out and talk to him."

Once back in the parlour, Erik saw the Persian's raised eyebrow and explained smoothly, "She is dressing."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She wishes to greet you in a manner befitting a wife." He had never felt as smug, or as thrilled. Erik had a wife, and one who wanted to be a credit to him! So full of rapturous pride that he felt as though he were floating, he went and poured a glass of wine for his guest, handed it to him, and then got himself a glass of water instead. No more spirits for Erik. He must keep a reasonably clear head about him, as the daroga would be alert for any indication that all was not as it seemed.

At length Christine appeared, a vision in satin and lace with a cameo pinned at her throat and colour in her cheeks. There was a round of stiff bowing and introductions, and tea was prepared. Conversation was stilted at first, but Christine was skilled at social niceties and it showed. Erik felt prouder of her yet.

While the tea was brewing in its silver pot, the daroga announced, "I am sorry not to have been at your wedding," in what was so patently a leading question that Erik felt himself justified in levelling a ferocious glare at the man. The Persian, unperturbed, merely flicked a calculating glance in Erik's direction, the purpose of which the newly minted husband understood implicitly; Mihr was keeping watch on him to see if any slip-up of expression or gesture would give the game away.

Christine ignored the by-play, and said calmly, "It is no matter. We had only a very small ceremony. There was not time to plan a large one and neither of us have friends or relations enough to need such anyway. But you must be our guest for dinner sometime soon, instead."

"I should be delighted to accept such an invitation, Madame."

"Christine, my dear, I am sure he would be far too busy to come to dinner with us," said Erik, as rudely as possible – which was quite rude indeed.

"Not at all," said Mihr. "I should be remiss in my manners indeed if I were too busy to come to dinner with an old friend to celebrate his marriage."

Christine, her cheeks pinker than ever, shot a surreptitious glance at the clock and began pouring the tea. She served their guest first, according to the dictates of courtesy, and then picked up a second cup, neatly dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into it, and handed it to her husband.

Erik despised any additions to his tea, which his wife knew very well. He took up the small silver spoon she had put on the saucer and stirred the tea with more vigour than strictly necessary, deciding to refrain from any further untoward remarks. He was clearly going to have to curb his tongue for the time being or he would earn himself Christine's displeasure.

Mihr took a sip of his own tea and asked, "You made the decision to marry swiftly, then?"

Erik was well aware of what that meant, as well. Did Christine have to have made that remark about not having enough time? She was obviously trying, but she did not know the daroga or how quickly he could pounce upon a careless remark. And the hidebound old prigwas looking for reasons to disbelieve Erik's assertion that Christine had chosen this marriage.

"There was no reason to wait," Christine answered. "We had known each other for some months by then. He was my voice teacher; did you know that, Monsieur de Mazanderan?"

"I did," responded Mihr blandly. "Erik and I keep up on each other's doings, don't we, Erik?"

"Quite," said Erik dryly. "I can always count on him to be there."

"I do enjoy a good visit with you, Erik. Perhaps now you will keep more regular hours at home, with a wife to attend to."

Unable to resist the temptation, Erik answered, "I do not care for the silly custom of advertising that one is 'at home to friends' at predictable hours, daroga. It allows people to simply drop in on you without warning."

"My husband tells me you have been friends for quite a long time?" Christine interjected hastily.

"Oh yes. I met him in my country back in…1862, I think it must be."

"Why, that is twenty-five years ago!" Christine marvelled.

"I suppose it is, isn't it, old friend?" Mihr said to Erik, who refused to answer, took a reflexive sip of his tea instead, and choked, spilling what remained in the cup. A brief fuss ensued, with Christine thrusting a napkin at him and rescuing the tea cup, curt apologies from Erik as he mopped up, and reassurances from Mihr that these things happened.

Fresh tea poured for Erik – free of sugar this time – the conversation resumed, this time turning to topics of travel, one of the few permissible subjects for polite conversation. Or rather, it would have been, had it been anyone other than Erik's travels that Christine chose to discuss.

"Erik has not told me much about his time in your country. Can you enlighten me, Monsieur? I should so much like to hear his history from the perspective of someone who knows him as well as you do."

"Daroga," said Erik threateningly, and added, in Persian, "I do not wish my wife to know of the horrors of those rosy hours."

Christine looked questioningly from one man to the other, obviously hurt that Erik had deliberately excluded her from his comment. Erik sat on the edge of his chair, more than willing to upset her slightly, or to expel the Persian from the house entirely, should there be any chance whatever of Christine hearing of his activities in the daroga's homeland. Mihr could be entirely too forthcoming at times. Erik and his old friend were going to have to have a discussion sometime soon about what was and was not appropriate for the ears of a lady. Fortunately, however, the man was also no fool, and clearly saw the wisdom of acceding to Erik's demand for circumspection. Instead of saying things which would have been dangerous to his health, he instead explained that Erik had fulfilled many roles in Persia, from court magician and composer to master architect. Leaving out the…other…responsibilities that Erik had had, Mihr said only that he had always been very busy, which was true, and that he had occasionally escaped to stay at Mihr's family estates in Mazanderan for short periods of time. From there the daroga launched into descriptions of the beauty of his home province's countryside. Christine was enchanted, as he had intended her to be, and her husband relaxed slightly, the crisis seemingly past.

But the daroga, a policeman for decades, would not be put off forever. With cordial relations now established, he eventually set his tea cup down and began the conversation that he was really there for.

"Mademoiselle – "

Erik gave a low growl.

"Excuse me, Madame…" Mihr corrected himself.

"Yes?" responded Christine.

"You understand that I am an officer of the law, and have been all my life? Erik has told you this?"

"Yes."

"I am, therefore, honour-bound to uphold justice whenever possible. I pray you will forgive me for my impertinence, Madame, but I must know if you are happy here with Erik as your husband. I could not rest otherwise, and previous circumstances lead me to…doubt."

Christine looked extremely embarrassed, and Erik wished he had not allowed the Persian to dupe him into allowing the man to come here and upset Erik's wife. If Mihr went too far, Erik would certainly stop him. It was his clear duty as a husband.

But Christine held her head high, and her voice was steady when she answered, "Yes. I am happy."

"And you chose to marry him out of that same free will?"

"Yes."

"I am truly sorry to discompose you, Madame, but the last time I spoke with you, you were, well, quite adamant that you did not wish to do anything of the kind."

Christine's lower lip trembled, very slightly. Erik was about to chastise the Persian for such a brazen remark, but before he could his wife answered, "Feelings can change."

"Indeed they can, Madame. I understand that Erik's changed rather…dramatically, and that he freed you and the Vicomte from here."

"Daroga, I already told you that – "

"And furthermore, that you then realised affections for Erik which caused you to decide to accept his earlier proposal of marriage."

"Daroga, you are too – "

"And that you subsequently married him both legally and under God, and that you are happy having done so."

"Daroga – "

"Silence," said the Persian, glaring at Erik. "I am speaking to Madame. Erik, you know what I am. I must know whether she is a prisoner here, a possibility which you yourself are responsible for having put into my head. Kindly keep quiet and allow me to determine whether I need to see to it that an evil situation is brought to an end, or whether I need to merely keep my nose out of a happily married couple's business."

He turned back to Christine. "And now, Mademoi – pardon me, Madame – I think we must go somewhere we can not be – " and here he shot a stare at Erik, " – overheard. You must feel comfortable speaking freely, and I am sure you can not with Erik in the same room. Will you perhaps consent to going out to a café with me?"

Erik came abruptly to his feet. "Daroga, you shall not take my wife out and have such a conversation with her in public. Look at her; you have upset her already."

"If you wish to determine who has done the vast majority of 'upsetting' her, Erik, I suggest you look in a mirror. Have you any of the things down here?"

"My decorating is none of your concern. And as for – "

Christine, who had turned from pink to bright red, mumbled miserably, "He can sit in here and play the piano, Monsieur. If we go into another room, he will not be able to hear us."

O-O-O O-O-O