Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me. --Hartley Coleridge
Chapter Two: Staccato
Emily closed the door and exhaled slowly. "Well, I guess that went well considering how my day has transpired."
Etienne stood across the hall with an expectant look on his face. He smiled at the young woman, she did look tired. "If Madame will follow me, we can arrange for lodgings and have your luggage dropped off. Would you would care for a hot cup of tea?"
Erik stared at the door. He wondered if this was some perverse American version of a sense of humor she had. Was she making a joke out of this? Both of these thoughts vexed him. He strode toward the door and heard Etienne offering her a cup of tea. What the hell was going on in HIS home? Jerking open the door, he stopped short of the threshold.
Emily was tired enough she did not flinch as the door was wrenched open. She calmly turned her head toward the man in the doorway. The illumination from the hall fell onto him from the shoulders down, revealing a dark velvet jacket of a casual style over a white shirt. He was at least a head taller than she. She felt his eyes looking down at her, and looked up. The right side of his face was covered from the hairline to his lips by a light material that appeared to follow the contours of his face. His eyes were indiscernible except for two glittering pinpoints that reflected the hall light. His lips were set in an almost elegant expression of anger.
Still looking at M. De La Shaumette, Emily smiled gently. "Tea would be wonderful." She dropped her gaze, lifted the hem of her dress and made her way down the stairs.
Erik heard Etienne's voice, saying something about his dinner. He must have responded because he did hear the retreating footsteps. He could not move. He closed his eyes. Standing on the threshold, he detected a fragrance that must have been her perfume. He could hear them downstairs, Etienne had steered her towards the parlor, and she protested her dress was dirty, that it had been wet. She asked if it was not better to sit on a kitchen chair. Erik closed the door. He turned back into the room, making his way to his chair. He sat in darkness, in the warmth of the fireplace, and contemplated what to do with a woman.
Etienne helped Emily secure a room for the night. The delivery man had dropped off the trunks to the Hotel Fordais. The hotel owner had been waiting to receive her, and had arranged a dinner to be waiting for her at a Café de Jardins on the corner of the street.
Emily ate a bowl of soup accompanied by fresh crusty rolls, had a final cup of tea and went back to her hotel. The gentleman at the desk assured her that one of her trunks that had been in the river would be taken to a service tomorrow to clean the clothing inside, and that there was still water available if Madame cared to have a bath. Emily thanked him, and retired to her room.
Turning up the gas lamp on the wall, she saw an envelope lying on the small dresser. It was from M. Dugast.
arrangements. He is to cover all the charges for your
stay here in Rouen. Come by the office tomorrow at
2 p.m., and we can discuss the insurance forms
and work out your scheduled meetings with your clients.
I am most curious to know how your meeting with
DLS went.
So would I, thought Emily. She sank into an exhausted sleep, dreaming of water and darkness and a pair of glittering eyes.
At 1:30 p.m., Emily arrived by cab at the office for her appointment with Georges Dugast. She waited a short time and was ushered in by a young man who introduced himself as M. Dugast's assistant.
"Madame, I am so pleased to see you again." Georges Dugast was probably around sixty. He wore a dark suite of a simple cut that complimented his extreme height. His shoulders were slightly stooped, no doubt from leaning down towards people as he spoke. His voice was deep but soft.
"Thank you, Monsieur."
Leaning forward over his desk, M. Dugast smiled, "I must commend you upon your excellent handling of M. De La Shaumette! Believe me, young lady, he is formidable when challenged, and absolutely ruthless to people who do not follow through with his instructions." He grinned, and Emily caught the ghost of what he must have looked like as a young man. "You know, I would have given anything to have been there when you met him!"
Emily couldn't help but smile. "Surely Monsieur can not be that hard to deal with?"
Georges Dugast burst out in a raspy laugh. "My dear, my fellows in the business community are already referring to it as 'Beauty and the Beast'! Some of them, I don't mind telling you would have loved it if you had shot him!"
Emily could not help but laugh as well. "I think he was a little stunned to be any more than curt with me."
"No, believe me, Monsieur is never caught unawares. He is a shrewd man, a capable man, and a master of the situations around him. Like a puppeteer, he pulls the strings. Like a magician he directs the attention elsewhere. I have only met him through messages sent to this office, and talking to his assistants."
Emily found this interesting. "Is this how he conducts all his business?"
"He has a number of people like me that actually run the offices and businesses he has in his possession. He has two personal assistants who do the 'leg work' as we refer to it, delivering contracts, conducting meetings, and such for him. They are the only two people who are allowed to his home. So you can see why we are all curious as to your impressions of him. "
Emily described the meeting, her impressions of the house, and how pleasant his servants had been to her. "As for Monsieur himself," she paused and spread her hands, "I did not see that much of him. Since he covers his face, I would think he is not comfortable with dealing with people personally."
"Thank you for the information, Madame," he replied.
Emily spent another hour with him, running down what times he had already arranged for her to meet personally with her other five clients. Of these, Hugette Pinson wrote a society column for Rouen's morning paper, Eustache Vaudry was a machinist, Françoise Desloges was an aspiring novelist, Denis Chalin was a lawyer and Vincente Juin was a doctor who was currently away in Switzerland for two weeks.
"That leaves Monsieur De La Shaumette and his assistants," Georges said. "He will no doubt send you one of his infamous notes when he needs you. If possible you might just plan on having an occasional block of time open for him."
At this point Emily brought up Monsieur's comments about not requiring help from her. George Dugast sat back and considered what she had said for a moment. "As I have said before, he is never at a loss to turn an opportunity into something profitable," he said. "If he had decided he could not work with you and Remington, then you would have tickets to America in your hand right now. Such as it is, he has sent to me that he will cover all of your expenses. I would tell you that as long as he seems interested in keeping you here that he is probably planning to go ahead and work with you to secure a contract with Remington for more typewriters."
George Dugast had closed the meeting and was escorting Emily to his front office when his assistant appeared bearing a note. It was addressed to Madame Griggs and bore a black wax seal on the back with the initials DLS. Opening it Emily read:
Upon inspection of my typewriter it has come to my attention
that my assistant that has attempted to use the machine met
with limited success, as the device that swings the small
printing hammers into place jams on a regular basis.
I would appreciate what information you could relay by return
message to me at your earliest convenience.
DLS
Etienne brought the note to Erik as soon as it arrived. Opening the note Erik saw it had one word written on it. Staccato. She had used the musical term meaning separate, as in sounding the notes in short detached strokes. No doubt she had remembered the grand piano in his study and assumed that he was familiar with musical terms. He was pleased by her succinct answer and the foresight she displayed in solving his problem.
Later in the afternoon when his assistant Phillipe Robillard came back at the end of the day, Erik was ready to show the young man how to use the machine. While Phillipe still typed with only two fingers, he used the short quick finger strokes that kept the type bar from jamming.
Phillipe was relieved that he was making progress. It added to his confidence that Monsieur De La Shaumette was pleased with his work. After dinner, as he and his sister cleared away the evening dishes, he told her about his day.
Sophie listened to her brother whenever he talked about his work. She enjoyed hearing about the mysterious M. De La Shaumette. She sometimes wondered how her brother could stand the pressure of being under this man's scrutiny. Phillipe made him sound so masterful, Sophie wondered if his proximity to her brother would in turn give him the confidence that he needed to be as successful. Granted, Phillipe was almost twenty-three, while his employer seemed to be around forty.
Phillipe had told Sophie about the late delivery by Emily Griggs. "Oh my, I so wish I could have been there when she arrived," Sophie breathed. "Can you imagine how that woman felt?"
"From my experiences, yes a little," Phillipe replied. "I know they weren't heard arguing, and she certainly didn't flee from the house. She actually was in his study. And now he has sent her a note, and she returned one to him."
"Phillipe, what about Monsieur Griggs? Is not her husband with her?"
"No. It has come to us that Madame is divorced and travels alone."
"Madame must indeed be a formidable woman to travel from America alone. What does M. De La Shaumette think about this? For all true intents, Madame is actually an unmarried woman. Do you think he will be able to deal with her?"
"I couldn't even begin to speculate on that. Monsieur never mentions a wife, or women in his life. As far as I know he doesn't even speak about his mother. I know for certain that are no pictures of family in his house. Other than Agnes Bardou, I don't know if he even sees a woman."
"You know," Sophie began, "maybe we should get to know this Madame Griggs."
"Do you think so?"
"Well, it certainly couldn't be bad for her! She came to Rouen on business, and knows no one! The Monsieur may be paying for everything, but he certainly isn't entertaining her. Wouldn't it be nice for her to at least have someone to talk with, and perhaps see sights around the town with?"
"Sophie, are you volunteering to be a tourist guide now?"
"Aren't you the least bit curious about her? As I said, she has no one who is helping her to enjoy her stay in France! What poor hosts we are all being!"
"All right, what do you suggest we do?"
"You need to meet with her, and arrange a dinner here. We can get Mama out of the house for the evening, and that will give us a chance to get acquainted with her. Then perhaps, she and I could see some of the city."
"I don't know, Sophie. Perhaps Monsieur would not like it."
"Well, you could tell him you are doing it for your curious sister," Sophie said tossing the dishtowel at his head. "Besides, women need the company of other women sometimes."
Phillipe did agree that it seemed a logical reason. How could Monsieur find fault with that?
Emily returned to the Hotel. Although she was comfortable there, she longed for arrangements that would be more permanent. She had left America over two months ago, voyaging across the Atlantic, stopping for a while in England to meet with the Remington representatives there, and then on to France.
Emily liked nothing better than being able to put on her loose robe, take down her hair, kick off her shoes and have a cup of tea when she was in the mood. She also would like to not have to schedule her use of the bath facilities around the other guests on her floor.
She spent the remainder of the afternoon putting away the clothes that had come back from the cleaning service. Luckily it had not been the trunk with most of her everyday clothes. This trunk contained a new evening gown, a heavy coat, 2 shawls, and what she considered her "American Wild West" outfit. People always wanted pictures of her dressed in pants, shirt, boots, her full length duster style coat and her Remington Rifle and shotgun.
The Remington Company began with manufacturing guns, later added sewing machines, and were now moving into typewriters. When she put in to be considered for this job, Remington was delighted that she was willing to be photographed. Emily knew her product, her job, and how to take care of her clients. Going to parties and social events, she projected the best image she could for Remington. Their success was tied to her, and likewise her chance of staying in France hinged on how well she did her job for Remington.
Emily kept thinking that most of what was going to happen to her was going to depend on M. De La Shaumette. He had an interesting voice; smooth sometimes, rough at others. From the way he spoke she knew he expected to be obeyed. She did so wish he had said something else when he had opened the study door. He seemed to fill the doorway with a presence, a kind of aura of energy. She wondered if a life spent living behind a mask had taught him to contain his thoughts, his passions, the essences that others would have projected out in an effort to communicate with others. Most of all she wondered if she would ever see the man again.
She went to the café for a late dinner and took a book with her. For a while she sat and surreptitiously watched the other people around her. She was a student of human nature; people's clothes, expressions, how they interacted with others around them had taught Emily a lot about how to approach other people. The proprietor told her that as long as she was not taking up a table that was needed, she could stay there as long as she liked. Her reading was interrupted by a young man. "Madame Griggs," he asked politely.
"Yes, I am Madame Griggs."
"My name is Phillipe Robillard. I am an assistant to M. De La Shaumette. May I join you?" Phillippe was tall with auburn hair and the most interesting eyes Emily had seen in a long time. While they looked brown in dim lighting, they flashed an astounding amber color under full light.
"Of course Monsieur, I was just having a final cup of tea. Will you have something?"
"No Madame. I am on my way home for the evening. I had stopped by to introduce myself, and to ask if you would care to join my sister and me for dinner one evening."
Emily was pleasantly surprised. "That would be lovely, Phillipe. Not that the food here is lacking in any respect, but it would be nice to spend some time in someone's home."
Phillipe was happy that she seemed receptive to the idea. "My sister Sophie will be delighted that you have accepted. She feels that we are all being poor hosts, leaving you to wander Rouen with no one to assist you. We could arrange for dinner tomorrow evening if you are available."
"Thank you, Phillipe, I look forward to meeting you sister. How will I find your home?"
"I will come by at six o'clock and we can take a cab there. If I am late, do not worry, Monsieur usually has his dinner around that time and dismisses us, you should not have to wait for long."
They bid each other good evening, and for once Emily went to her room hopeful that this was a good sign. She looked forward to having a friendly evening with people who were not clients or hotel staff.
