Chapter Summary: Annalise finds herself torn between two different men and turns to Christine for advice and guidance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The summer morning dawned bright and hot, the air of Paris heavy with a promise of rain to come. Even the birds in the trees sang their songs in a slow and lazy manner. Annalise looked up from her dressing table, her sketchbook in front of her, to pull back the curtain hanging limply in the window in hopes of catching even a hint of a breeze. She turned back to look at her drawing and smiled. It was a nice likeness of Erik, she thought. She had drawn his profile, capturing the strong bone structure of his face and was wondering if she could take the half and make a whole perfect image. She had just lifted her pencil when a knock came at her door.
"May I come in?" she heard her mother ask.
Annalise quickly closed her sketchbook. "The door is open, Maman."
The door opened and Christine walked into the room. She was dressed in white muslin, her dark curls tied loosely at the nape of her neck. "You are not going out with Katherine today?"
"No. Gustave is going to escort me to Lady Willingham's dance tonight so I thought I would spend the day at home." Annalise told her. "Katherine is going to be there tonight and we have promised to find some time just for ourselves to catch up on ... oh ... many things! I do not think we have had time to truly talk quietly since I came home."
"I am not surprised," Christine told her daughter. "You have barely been home two nights since you came back three weeks ago. I know it would please your father if you were to find the time to dine with us."
Annalise smiled at her mother. "I shall be at home tomorrow evening and I promise my time shall be only for you and Father."
"You and I have not had time to truly talk quietly, either. I wonder if you have been trying to avoid me."
She had been trying to avoid her mother only because Annalise wanted to protect Erik and their secret meetings and she knew she would never have been able to lie to her mother. "Would you like to talk now?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.
Christine walked over to where her daughter sat, placing her hands on the child's shoulders. "I would like that. It shall almost be like when you were a small girl and you would sit by my side and tell me everything you had done that day." She sighed. "I miss those times and that little girl." Mother and daughter looked at their reflections in the mirror in front of them. "You have grown so fast." Christine ran a hand down her daughter's dark hair. "I no longer see a pretty child before me but a lovely young lady."
Annalise felt the tears sting her eyes, her hand reaching up to touch the one hand that still rested on her shoulder. "Maman ..."
Christine patted her daughter's hand. "Come, let me dress your hair and while I do so you can tell me what it is you have been doing."
Annalise handed her mother a brush. "What should you like to know?" Her huge eyes twinkled. "I ought to say what would you like to know that you have not heard from my brothers?"
"Consider yourself blessed, my dear, to have brothers to love and watch out for you. Hand me a pin."
A pin exchanged hands and Christine expertly tucked the curl into place. "I know they love me and I do not wish to seem flippant. There are times when I am glad they are there to watch for me."
"I know that they keep all the young beaux seeking your attention at a respectful distance." Annalise saw her mother's reflection smile at her. "Do not look so surprised! Even if you did not have brothers, word of the young men who have danced with you and sat with you and tried to make love to you would reach my ears. You will be a wealthy young woman when you marry so mothers of daughters eye you with envy and mothers of sons eye you with longing. Mothers talk, my dear."
"I wish you would not say such things!" Annalise angrily spat out.
"Annalise!" There was a lock of shock on Christine's face.
Annalise turned quickly to face her mother, her hair only half-finished. "How did you know?" she demanded.
"How did I know what?" Christine appeared puzzled.
"How did you know that it was Father you loved and wanted to marry?" Annalise watched as some of the delicate color left her mother's cheeks.
Christine looked down at the brush in her hands, unwilling to meet her daughter's angry gaze for fear of revealing a secret she had promised never to tell. "There was a moment when your father was willing to do something for me that no one else had ever been willing to do before or has been willing to do since. That was the moment I knew I truly loved him and that was the moment I made my choice," she replied in a soft, almost haunted tone of voice.
Regretting her outburst, Annalise reached out a hand to her mother. "What did he offer to do?"
Christine shook her head. "No. Perhaps I shall tell you someday but not now. There are things that are best left in the past." Christine took the hand offered and sat next to her daughter on the padded bench. "Now, why do you ask?"
Annalise dropped her eyes, the color rising in her cheeks.
"Is there someone your father and I ought to know about?"
There was someone; in fact, there were two someones Annalise felt pulling her in very opposite directions.
Christine touched her daughter's chin, raising her face so that Annalise was looking into her mother's eyes. "I know that Katherine's brother, Andrew, is very fond of you and I know that Jean-Paul's friend, Michaud, has also been paying a good deal of attention to you." Christine smiled gently at her daughter. "Mothers are not the only ones who talk. Your brothers have not been blind. They have seen how often those young men dance with you, speak with you, how they would ask about you while you were in the country. It does not require any knowledge of love to know that each of these young men would find something desirable in you."
"They are so different, though, Maman!" Annalise searched her mother's face. "Andrew is forward and honest and speaks his mind. It confuses me because that is how my brothers treat me and I did not think that is how a lover was supposed to behave." She stood and walked over the window, leaning against the sash, playing absent-mindedly with the curls that still hung down. "Michaud is sweet and gentle and speaks softly to me." She turned to look back at her mother. "Daughters can speak as well as mothers and we are not blind, either. I know that all the young woman my age think he is dashing and romantic and acts just how a lover should act." Annalise sighed and walked back to sit next to her mother. "And I do not know what to think! This is my first full season out and I am so confused. I need your help!"
Emotions raced quickly across Christine's face, confusing her daughter further. "I will tell you one thing and that is that no one needs to pressure you to make your decision." Christine reached out to touch her daughter's forehead. "Know you own mind, my dear." She moved her hand down to her daughter's heart. "And follow your heart." She touched her daughter's cheek. "And always remember that whatever you decide; to fall in love, to marry, to enjoy your youth, your father and I will support whatever decision is made, as long as you make that decision freely and without coercion."
Mother and daughter looked at each other for a long moment, Christine trying to tell secrets without betrayal; Annalise struggling to understand the pain and longing in her mother's eyes. Christine finally broke the silence by standing.
"Hand me another pin so that I can finish your hair," she told Annalise, "or your maid shall be doing it all afternoon and you know how irritated your brother can become when you run late." Christine took the pin her daughter handed her, allowing her hand to linger for moment. "Promise me you shall think before you make any decision."
"I promise," Annalise replied softly.
It was a promise that Annalise was finding she had no trouble keeping as she was whirled gracefully around the dance floor at Lord and Lady Willingham's Paris townhouse.
"You are deep in thought," Andrew told her with a smile.
Annalise smiled back at him. "It is a promise I made to my mother. I promised her I shall always think."
"What are you thinking about?"
How Annalise wished Andrew would have added, "Are you thinking about me?"! Instead she just gave him a soft smile as the Viennese waltz swelled around them, carrying them out onto the balcony. The air was still heavy with humidity, the scent of roses mingling with the smoke from the gas lamps. They stopped dancing, Andrew taking Annalise's hand, leading her towards the balustrade where they looked out upon the garden, a fountain splashing merrily somewhere in the darkness.
"You never answered my question," Andrew told her. "What are you thinking about?"
Annalise breathed in the scented air, a deep sigh escaping her lips. "I am thinking how wonderful it is to feel like this!"
"Like what?"
"Happy, floating, swept away by the music," Annalise looked into Andrew's eyes, "loving the feel of the arms around me."
Andrew reached out to touch the dance card that hung from Annalise's wrist. "I wish my arms were the only ones that you would feel tonight."
"Do you?"
"You know I do."
"How would I know?" Annalise asked him.
Andrew looked deeply into those blue eyes before releasing the hand he held. "Because I told you and when you are ready to admit that you feel the same way, I will be here."
"Feel what?"
Andrew touched her cheek, shaking his head. "You are such a child, sometimes, Annalise. And I am sure there is another name of a young man on your dance card whose arms are waiting for you. I'll not make them wait any longer."
"Andrew ..." Annalise said as he turned and re-entered the brightly lit ballroom. She watched as he stopped to say something to Gustave before disappearing into the crowd gathering on the dance floor. "Andrew ...," she whispered to herself.
"I believe this is my dance, mademoiselle," Annalise heard a voice say. She turned to find Michaud Deschene standing at her elbow. "Or do find yourself in need of a cavalier?" he asked, a smile on his face.
"I would like to dance," Annalise told him, taking the hand he extended.
"Then dance we shall most certainly do," Michaud told her, sweeping her up into his arms, moving them slowly as another waltz began. He danced them faster as the music picked up its pace, rising and falling with the emotions of the composer, leading them back into the ballroom.
Annalise found that her new dance companion did not speak like so many of the others - like Andrew. Michaud let his eyes speak for him, echoing the music. Annalise found herself drawn into those dark depths even as she felt his hand at the small of her back draw her closer into his embrace. She returned his soft smile, feeling warmth flooding her body, creeping up her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, looking at her partner through her lashes, amazed to see his smile broaden, the light in his eyes grow softer.
Michaud leaned towards Annalise so that only she could hear his whispered words; it was an act of intimacy that only heightened the color in Annalise's cheeks. "You grow tired, cherie. I shall return you safely to the hands of your brother. Yet I wish you to know how fortunate I consider myself to have had this moment and the feel of you in my arms."
They danced around the crowded room, Michaud leading Annalise to where Gustave leaned against a wall. Gustave smiled as they stopped in front of him.
"I thank you for the honor," Michaud said as he kissed Annalise's hand and disappeared into the crowded room.
"Well," Gustave said.
Annalise stared after the retreating figure of her dance partner, catching sight of Andrew in the process. He was dancing with a young woman she did not recognize, they were laughing and Annalise suddenly felt indescribably angry. She turned to face her brother. "I want to go home," she said.
"Why?" Gustave wanted to know.
"I just do," came the reply.
"And I just need a better reason than that. If I take you home now, half the young men in this room will be out for my blood by the morning."
"And if you do not take me home, I shall tell Father that I felt ill and you would not let me leave. Then we shall see who is going to have your blood by the morning."
Brother and sister glared at each other, Gustave finally backing down.
"What is wrong with you?" he wondered and was amazed to see the angry light in his sister's eyes dim, her chin beginning to quiver. He took her arm and led her out of the ballroom, into the hallway where he found a loveseat. Gustave sat Annalise down, joining her on the red velvet. "Did anyone say or do anything to upset you? Because if they did, so help me God, I'll ..."
"No!" Annalise quickly interrupted. "No. No one did anything to me but me." She sighed. "Katherine did not come tonight - she had a headache - and Iso wanted to see her," she lied.
Gustave knew she was lying but did not know where to begin to find the truth. He kissed his sister lightly on the cheek. "Do not fret. I shall make our apologies to Lady Willingham and order the carriage. I promise to even let you sleep on my shoulder on the ride home as long as you do not snore."
"I never snore," Annalise said with a pout.
"Yes, you do," Gustave replied.
"No. I don't."
Gustave relented as he noticed the sadness in his sister's eyes. "No. You do not snore." He grinned. He could not help it. "You just breathe heavily."
Annalise giggled and shook her head, reaching in to give her brother a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. I shall try to breathe lightly."
Gustave stood. "Wait here and I shall be back within a few moments."
Annalise watched as he moved away to make their good-byes to their hostess. "I wonder what Erik would say to all this," she wondered to herself, missing the kind, sad man she had met in the woods.