Chapter 13. Love Is On The Way
"Did the Duke figure out of the writer and The Sparkling Diamond's affair?" I questioned, slipping on a fuchsia headband to match another gypsy dress. "Did he realize she could never love him and left?"
"What love story does not end in tragedy?" Cecille sighed heavily, resting upon my bed and gazing at the cracked ceiling. "It did not take long before he began noticing. When The Sparkling Diamond failed to show up to yet another meeting with the Duke, he grew infuriated. In an attempt of desperation, Harod had explained that The Sparkling Diamond was off at confession…"
Cecille's words faded away as the story possessed me in such a way, I thought I could see the situation before me, Harod's song ringing within my ears as the Duke slowly gave into the lie.
How many more lies has Harod told?
"How is your Duke, Isabel?" Cecille inquired, twirling a lose curl of hers with a finger. "All going pleasant enough, I hope?"
"I never thought I would meet a man like him," I closed my eyes, memories flashing before my eyes that could do nothing but make me smile. "It seems impossible to be upset around him."
"He truly is a wonderful gentleman."
"He asks about you," I told her, recalling past conversations.
"Gregory asks about me?"
"Yes," I nodded. "He talks of how Edmund misses you back at home. He says he is not quite sure his cousin is aware of your presence within the Moulin Rouge, but he will not tell. He says that he understands more than anyone how sometimes you just need to leave from the everyday normality that surrounds you."
"That's Gregory for you…"
"Words cannot describe him," I trailed away from my rational as I began my own tangent of Gregory. "His good attributes precede the little faults he might have."
"You have known him for a little less than half a month and you already find fault with him?"
"Nothing horrendous, I promise you." I reassured. "They are not really faults entirely. More like habits, if you mind. Like when he finds the necessity to rumple up his attire to give his life a sense of disorder. Or when he begins to shift back and forth off the balls of his feet when he does not know what to do. Or when he wishes to sing over talk or during silence. None of them bother me, mind you. I just noticed some consistency with certain actions of his and made note of them all."
"But do you love him?"
The question hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, until Cecille cleared her throat, demanding an answer.
"I could learn to love him…"
"If you cannot say yes, then you don't."
"Waking up alone
In a room that still reminds me
My heart has got to learn to forget
Starting on my own
With every breath I'm getting stronger
This is not the time for regret
Cause I don't need to hang on to heartbreak
When there's so much of life left to live
Love is on the way
On wings of angels
I know it's true, I feel it coming through
Love is on the way
Time is turning the pages
I don't know when
But love will find me again
I am not afraid
Of the mystery of tomorrow
I have found the faith deep within
There's a promise I have made
There's a dream I'm gonna follow
There's another chance to begin
And it's coming as sure as the heavens
I can feel it right here in my heart
Love is on the way
On wings of angels
I know it's true, I feel it coming through
Love is on the way
Time is turning the pages
I don't know when
But love will find me again
(Oh I know, I know down deep
Down in my heart I know that…)
Love is on the way
On wings of angels
I know it's true, I feel it coming through
Love is on the way
Time is turning the pages
I don't know when
But love will find me again
I don't know when
But love will find me again…" (1)
"You still love the writer…" Cecille realized when I finished my song.
"Love is on the way," I replied to her with confidence. "Love will find me again."
"How is Isabel?"
The writer's questions were always the same. Always about Isabel. If her fiancé treated her kindly. If she was happy. If she ever asked about him. Always the same answers.
"Isabel is doing well. The Duke treats her like the Duchess she's bound to be, and his love keeps her happy. She has not brought you up as far as I know. At least, not to me."
The same cursing towards myself internally at my lies…
"No mention of me?"
I knew I was paid to make men hear what they wanted to hear. I knew what he wanted to hear, and I knew the truth.
"None at all."
But yet I kept the lies coming…
And he kept at his typing, not even trying to look up and notice that I sat on his bed, ready to go to the ends of the world if only a man might love me.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Monsieur?"
"I have lost it," he ran his hands through his head, and looking down at the fireplace where his fire had extinguished only moments ago. "The inspiration is there, but it is not complete. I can type endlessly of my story, but it goes in circles. This is getting me nowhere."
"Are you alright, Monsieur?" I sat up, hoping to catch his eye.
"Why has she not mentioned me?" he did not even look up from where his eyes remained fixed on the fireplace.
Sighing, I laid down on his bed, looking down at the lace of my dress, hugging every curve of my body, yet drawing no attention my way.
Surely my situation was no different than his.
It was getting nowhere.
I could stand for days before an empty fireplace, remembering her smile and laughter.
Was it only months ago that I had held her in my arms? That I had tasted her for the first time? Would that be my last time with the closest thing to heaven?
"You are such a tease…"
Oh Cecille. She was an affable woman, but certainly not the type of woman I saw myself with. Although Satine had came off as some voluptuous temptress, it was all a facade of Ziddler's making.
Cecille, no matter if she was dressed to be The Sparkling Diamond or a handmaid would always be a flirt, waiting to pounce upon the first man she crossed paths with.
"When is their wedding?" I questioned Cecille, in need to know how many more days of torture I had to endure before Isabel was finally out of men's reach. "I do not think I can last another day… another week. Please, Cecille, tell me it is near."
"Well…" Cecille trailed off, fumbling with the lace around the neckline of her dress. "The thing about it is… I…well… I am not quite sure."
"Not sure?" I turned away from the hearth I had been focused on, averting my attention from any distractions. "I would think that Isabel would confide with you about everything. The date of her wedding is certainly a matter that you should know…"
"…Isabel doesn't confide everything to me."
"Does she love him?"
"Why…I am quite sure… what reason has she to not love the Duke?"
Her answers were getting quite reassuring.
"Is Isabel even engaged?" I pressed, standing up and walking towards where Isabel rested atop my bed until I was staring down at her eyes that wavered without the confidence I was so used to. "She isn't, is she?"
"I…I think…Isabel…" Isabel's eyelashes fluttered, stumbling on what she could possibly say.
Without a moment's hesitation, I pressed my lips to hers with a heat and need, kissing her with a hardness I had forgotten I was capable of doing. Cecille responded with just as much rapidness, wrapping her arms around me, and bringing me down upon her before wrapping her hands within my hair.
When we finally drew apart, her lips were swollen from my own, and I was quite certain my face was smudged with whatever paint she wore upon her lips.
"Isabel… she's…not…engaged yet…" Cecille breathed between her deep gasps for air. "She… and the Duke… are still… courting."
I did not give Cecille another moment to say anything or for any thought as to my present actions to settle in as I strode out of my home into the streets of Paris.
1. Celine Dion "Love Is On The Way"