A/N: Thanks for your lovely comments, guys! :)
Chapter 25: Anne, 1883
I cannot say what's worse, being with Erik or being without him. In the days of his absence when I am largely confined to my room, I write for hours on end and although my obsession has not diminished and my drive still prevails, the lingering uncertainty makes the experience less enjoyable than it was before.
But when I am with Erik the sense of betrayal is even worse. Although I know that my interest in his life is genuine, I cannot deny seeking out more specific details now in hopes of fleshing out my story.
I focus on his life in Persia because it was those tales that first captured my attention and my imagination. Whenever the house feels silent enough, I sneak into father's library, consult maps to track Erik's journey and search for books that will bolster my knowledge about the country and its customs. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, that source is rather swiftly exhausted and I am forced to seek more material elsewhere.
Teodora doesn't seem surprised when I show up on her doorstep unannounced and invites me inside for some refreshments which I hastily decline.
"I had hoped you'd be free to accompany me to the market?" I ask instead and she glances guiltily into the house.
"I will ask mother if she'd mind looking after the children for an hour." She finally comments and retreats down the corridor.
I remain outside and peer up at the cloudy sky, had almost forgotten how moody autumn can be in this part of the world. Perhaps it is merely the strange state of my own emotions but I begin to wonder whether the sunny days I shared with Erik are also in the past.
"Mother is curious but happy to help out…provided I share with her some details later on." Teodora laughs, when she emerges again, fastening a cloak around her neck.
"She is a delightful character," I nod and begin walking towards the market.
"She can be…but also hard work." Teodora grins. "Now what are we searching for that you couldn't carry by yourself? Another part for the press? Or is it merely the company you needed?"
I twist my hands and glance guiltily over my shoulder.
"He has finished the press," I answer quietly, "though I suppose while we are out we might retrieve some ink."
"How exciting!" Teodora interrupts enthusiastically. "Can I assume we'll be able to print the next pamphlet for the Lega promotrice degli interessi femminili with your press then?"
"Yes," I reply absent-mindedly, "though given the current mood at home we might consider shifting it to a different location."
"I thought it was heavy." She frowns.
"It is," I confirm somewhat snidely, "but perhaps a few hours of labour would be more worthwhile than permanently losing something that a great deal of time and money has been invested in."
Teodora's expression sobers and for a moment or two she looks rather taken aback.
"Forgive me, I wasn't thinking," she mumbles eventually, "and I did not mean to complain, I merely wondered if it was possible at all."
"If Lorenzo would be available to help or some of the other women would consider getting their hands dirty, perhaps."
We are spilling out into a mass of people that is frequenting the main road and the panic in my chest starts to rise. There are too many onlookers, too many curious eyes. How dreadfully easy it would be to be ripped along in their current, never to be found again.
Teodora seems startled by my strange behaviour or perhaps she simply hears my strangled breathing, for she suddenly grasps my hand and leads me out of the crowd and into a deserted side street.
"Are you feeling alright?" she enquires, worriedly. "You don't seem to act like yourself."
I laugh tiredly and desperately and cover my face with the palm of my hand. It's cool and sweaty and somewhat unsteady.
"I've got a lot on my mind." I say quietly when I realise that I have failed to answer her question.
"Is the book giving you trouble?" she asks and I think of Erik, by far not innocent yet so often betrayed by the ignorance of man.
"I require more books," I shrug her off, "more information about Persia than my father's library can offer."
"Then let's keep moving to the market. I am certain you'll feel much better once you have acquired a volume or two."
There is no arguing with her determined optimism and so I allow her to pull me along once more.
"Will you let me read some of it?" she suddenly asks when the sweeping space of the market piazza has come into view.
I have barely thought further than the following day but her offer is sound enough. It would be smart to let someone objective read it before I try to print and distribute it.
"I'd appreciate your input." I tell her finally.
My answer seems to please her as she manages to shake off the startled look she's had ever since I have snapped at her.
Once we have reached the stalls we browse some displays together, before Teodora splits off and goes to collect some groceries she has promised her mother and some sweets she has promised her children. In the meantime, I push my way through the crowd and towards the book stall. It isn't fully stocked yet offers enough to have me search for quite some time.
Some of the books seem so fresh I fear to smudge the ink, while others show signs of wear and tear, with yellowed pages that beckon me. I have always had a weakness for books that have visibly been passed around, imagining the concealed history that links all of its owners.
After a couple of minutes, I spot a book about practical magic and pick it up but unfortunately that's where my luck ends. While the stall holds several works of fiction as well as books about Italian history and architecture, it does not extend to other countries.
"Excuse me?" I call, trying to get the vendor's attention. "I'd like to pay for this."
He turns, glances at the title of the book I'm holding, smirks and at last names the price. I choose to overlook his demeanour and hand over the relevant change.
"You wouldn't happen to have some books about Persia or Russia in storage, would you? Or perhaps you could tell me if you'd be likely to acquire some if I offered an extra reward?"
His initial look of surprise changes to disbelief and he makes a point of eyeing me up and down slowly before answering.
"Perhaps your husband would be more suitable to negotiate matters with me? A woman who shows foreign interests like that is always worrisome and I'd hate to contribute to a scandal…even inadvertently."
His insinuation irks me and I place both my hands steadily on the table between us so that my face is closer to his.
"I do not recall asking for your opinion on my personal matters but since you must know, I am not married and it is men like you who make me glad that I am not. Now be kind enough to answer my question before I take my business elsewhere."
His eyes turn cold and he takes a determined step back.
"My inventory is beyond my control. I simply display what I've been able to acquire."
"How very unfortunately small-minded of you." I reply icily and walk away.
By the time I've managed to locate Teodora in midst of the chaos, I am seething but also in no mood to explain myself and be met by another wall of optimism and cheerfulness.
"They did not have what I was looking for." I tell her simply and we begin walking back towards her house.
"Perhaps the little store at the corner of via delle zoccolette and via degli strengari will have something for you. If Pietra is there, tell her that I have sent you and she might be able to take you to their secret compartment."
Swallowing down my frustration at Teodora not having shared this piece of information earlier, I nod and thank her instead.
"Perhaps I'll go there now." I add.
"You must be incredibly eager." She smiles and pulls me into her embrace.
"Don't concern yourself too much about me. I shall be fine." I answer stiffly.
"Come by whenever you are ready to share and I'll happily give you my opinion."
"Thank you," I smile again, "I shall."
But it is with great relief that I finally walk away from her. My mood is intolerable and ever-changing and I'm as miserable in my own company as I am in others. The only way to remedy that is by going ahead with the plan I have set in motion and make as much progress as I can with the book.
Fortunately, Teodora's book store turns out to be a little treasure trove. Not only does it offer a wider variety of books but its owners are kind and well-read and happy to assist me in my search without the need for penetrating questions. And so I emerge an hour later with a couple of books detailing the history and culture of Persia as well as a volume of diaries, detailing the life of the travelling folk of Russia.
The air has turned even colder when I begin my trek back home but nonetheless I savour the privacy that I have left. The house is oddly quiet when I enter though the faint sounds of cutlery tell me that the family has already assembled in the dining room to eat.
Bypassing them quickly, I head up into my room, lock the door and only light a candle in hopes they won't notice my presence for quite some time. Since our argument, father and I have made it a point to avoid each other, mother seems unable to look at me without bursting into tears and only Joanne has hesitantly dared to seek me out. I'd rather be alone though than listening to her pleas for a reconciliation. Only an apology from my father could sway me now.
Reaching for one of the books, I pull myself out of my reverie and immerse myself entirely in a different world. I read about the line of Shas, the countless lines of princes and the terrible treatment of slaves and women. An account of life in a harem and the deceptive nature of eunuchs turns out to be particularly enlightening and makes me remember Erik's story about the slave girl that was promised to had shared that tale with a mixture of humility and disgust though if the latter was due to the customs or the awakening of his own desires I cannot say.
Unbidden, thoughts of a most intimate nature infiltrate my mind. Had he ever been able to indulge in those yearnings he clearly possessed or had his face taken that from him as well? Surely every woman is aware of the sensuality he oozes, the erotic resonance his voice possesses. My thoughts wander deeper down this forbidden path, consider exquisite lessons we could teach each other. And it is with flushed cheeks and a sudden surge of panic that I realise I haven't brought a single line to the page yet.
I set off to do this thanks to a never-ending curiosity and, later on, a desire to do his life justice. Now, I have become so intertwined with it that it makes me wonder how I had ever been foolish enough to believe it was my place to do so.