If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities.
Maya Angelou
Chapter Eight: A Kept Woman
Emily looked down at the glass she held in her hands. His voice touched something inside of her; the sensation was so intense she felt a flush start in her face and go racing down her neck and shoulders. He had said her name finally; he made it sound so achingly beautiful that she wanted to hear it again.
Erik watched her take a deep breath, thinking she was descending into the dark possibility of someone wishing her death. He wanted so desperately for her to trust him in this that it made him hurt to look at her. Anger swept through him as well, as fierce as fire it could consume his reason. He knew the blind determination to slip the lasso from his hands and with deadly certainty take the last living breath of whoever had planned this. Their malice or sheer stupidity could have cost her life.
Emily collected her thoughts and looked up at him. Hoping fervently that she wasn't blushing she said in a small voice, "I think I need some more Brandy." Before anyone could react, she quickly left the chair and went to the desk. Her back still to them, she poured more of the liquor into her glass with a shaky hand. Calm yourself down girl, she thought, you are too old to start making up romantic fantasies.
She turned back and went to the piano bench, tucking her skirt under her as she sat down. She finally looked at Erik. "Thank you, Monsieur." She wanted to add something, but her mind wasn't working. "Do you have any idea of which of your competitors it might be?"
"I do not have any particular reason for suspicion," Erik replied. "You understand that in this business we compete as well as come to each others aide at times."
Phillipe added, "A year ago there was a fire at one of the textile mills. They needed fresh supplies of cotton on short notice as well as replacement parts for the looms. Every boat and coach from Le Havre to Paris made arrangements to shuffle cargos and carry for each other to free up the larger barges to bring in the supplies."
Erik proceeded, "Rouen itself now has over ten miles of docks along the river. There is always a bit of rivalry. If arguments arise between men, it threatens to spill over into all manner of problem."
"There is perhaps a more subtle competition?"
"Yes, there is always a competition of that nature," Erik agreed. "Phillipe has found that there is a possible contract with a boat yard to produce the next larger size of canal boat that the government will allow to travel through this area. It can handle the river, but the branching smaller canals have a lock system which would prohibit their travels. If this is true, the smaller boats will be competing for that business."
"Do you know who the contract is for?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Phillipe. "It is under bid for Jules Gaultier. He currently owns six of the smaller boats."
"We have never had a problem with him before," Javier put in.
"No, but he must come up with the resources he can rely upon to secure a loan for the boat building," Erik replied. "The prospect of the typewriter import could be what he is counting on."
They all sat in silence a moment, Emily taking in all the details and the men at a loss to produce any more clues that were not mere conjecture. "Not to stray too far from the subject, but you did get my notice of resignation did you not?"
Erik took a step towards the piano, simply looking at her. His displeasure etched in his intense eyes and the set of his mouth.
Emily began, "Wouldn't it be a good thing for that to happen at this point? I mean if we want to prove that it was not an attempt personally on me, just an effort to complicate your contract with Remingtonā¦"
Javier got up and went for the bottle on the desk. "She makes a point. For her to distance herself from the company and yourself at this point might be safer for her."
Erik looked to Phillipe. "I would have to agree. Not that we wouldn't continue to work with her, but it would appear that she was no longer in your confidence."
Erik conceded, "Very well, we shall do it for your sake, Madame." Emily began to relax until he added, "Only for that reason. I would not allow you to resign otherwise."
"Ah well, that just leaves me moving out of the hotel then."
"Confound it all woman, you do not need to give up your room at the hotel," Erik said sharply.
To this Emily rubbed a hand across her forehead. "I really need to get out of there. It's time I find something more comfortableā¦"
"The hotel is not adequate?" His voice was getting rougher.
"No Monsieur." She held up a hand as if to ward off his growing displeasure. "It's not that. The hotel is more than adequate. Everything has been just fine. It's just that I have been traveling for almost two months now. I'm tired of living out of a trunk; I just want something more permanent."
Erik ruminated on this for a moment. He did enjoy his privacy and the comfort of his home. "Yes, I can see that."
"And there is the fact that you are paying for it," Phillipe added.
"What is the problem with that? I have provided lodgings for other business men I have brought to Rouen," he asked genuinely puzzled.
Emily closed her eyes for a moment. "Because you are a man," she paused, gesturing with a hand. "And I am a woman."
Erik looked at her and blinked. "That is obvious."
Javier explained, "She means that people will assume you are keeping her, as a mistress."
To Emily, his expression might have actually been amusing if it did not seem that he was so distressed by the comment from Javier. He seemed at a loss for words momentarily. To Erik, he didn't know what part of it surprised him more. That people would actually assume he had a mistress or that fortune would smile upon him and provide a woman who would agree to it. He dared a glance at Emily. "Do they presume this already?"
Emily shrugged carelessly. "If they do you are quick, Monsieur." She added in English, "But we certainly aren't reaping the benefits from it." All three men were looking at her quizzically. She waved a hand in the air. "It's not worth repeating," she said in French.
Erik had not heard her speak in her native tongue before. If this was something she did, he would have to look into getting a dictionary of French to English translation. At least this lapse in conversation gave him a moment to get over his befuddlement at the prospect of Emily being considered his mistress. One part of him was oddly distressed; the other was absurdly proud at the prospect. Erik cleared his throat. "It must be embarrassing for Madame."
Emily shook her head no. "It was natural, I am divorced and Monsieur is an attractive man. People love a good story or bit of juicy gossip."
As she finished speaking, she realized that he did not know that he was an attractive man. How could he not? He seemed mature, established, a comfortable home, an expanding business. It had to be the Mask. Whatever he was covering was sadly keeping him from enjoying his life as it should have been. She could not help but wonder again at what had happened to him in his lifetime to cut himself off from the world. He seemed to be avoiding looking at her, much the same as in the alley, the look of a stray animal caught between hope and fear.
Javier approached with the bottle. "Would anyone care for more?"
"No," Emily said. "I haven't eaten dinner yet, so two glasses are plenty for me."
Javier grinned. "I'll remember that when we go to Jumieges for the celebration. I'd be remiss in my duties if I let someone get you drunk."
Emily had to laugh. "Oh no, I don't get drunk. People are either lovers or fighters when they drink too much. I don't love anybody when I drink."
"Please say you aren't taking your guns then, Emily," Phillipe interjected.
Emily put a finger to her lips and looked at the two men; Erik noted the impish glee in her eyes. "Madame," he began in a warning voice.
"I think it would be a splendid idea." She added in an almost seductive voice, "You could to learn to shoot."
Javier sat back down on the couch. "Ah, this should be quite fun."
Phillipe looked a bit distressed. "I'm not very good at things of that nature."
Emily looked at him. "Phillipe, if it means your life or someone else's, you'd be amazed at how good you learn to be."
"What do you mean?"
She turned to Erik. "If it was not necessarily an assault on me the other day, but an action to warn you, it is possible that you will have others to worry about." She indicated Phillipe "Sophie or your Mother." Looking back to Erik she added, "Agnes or Etienne." Turning to Javier she asked, "You have family here?"
Javier's face grew starkly serious. "Yes, my parents and my two sisters." He looked at Erik. "One sister is married with a family of her own."
Erik stood before the fireplace. For a man alone in the world he seemed to have just inherited a rather large circle of family that was growing by leaps and bounds. "Yes Madame, I had taken this under consideration." Erik heard the mantel clock striking, it was getting late and Emily had said she had not had dinner yet. "I think that is all we need to cover for this evening. Would one of you gentlemen care to escort Madame back to the hotel?" Phillipe nodded assent. "Thank you, Phillipe. If you would please leave Madame and me alone for a moment."
Javier and Phillipe retreated from the study taking the bottle and glasses with them. After a moment Erik approached the piano bench. He sat down on the bench facing the piano, the unmasked part of his face towards her while Emily at the other end faced the opposite direction. "You have seen a part of me that only Javier has been privy to. The man you saw last night is who I once was. I used the money I made on investments, and in time became who I am now. I still revert back to that man when I have needed to be seen in public. I do not totally rely on Javier or Phillipe." There was so much more to tell, but not yet. Not until he knew how much he could trust her.
"So, I would not have seen this man except for last night's accidental meeting?"
"No, you have no need to know of this."
"As we would say, 'the cat is out of the bag'."
He wondered why anyone would want a bag with a cat in it, but decided this must be an American expression of some sort. "I am now going to ask you not to reveal what you know to anyone. I do not use this persona for things illegal as you have assumed. I also wish to keep the identities separate." He paused for a moment before adding, "People are not always kind, Madame. I do not allow people to see me."
She nodded, "Of course, Monsieur." She added with a wry grin, "As long as you don't mention the pistol episode either." Noting the expression of disdain on his face she let out a small laugh. "That was Monsieur Colt."
"Madame does not need to carry a gun." He paused to look at her. "I meant what I said. I will not let any harm come to you." He indicated himself, "This man could not walk the streets without drawing attention. The other man you saw is quite at home with the violence of the waterfront. It is him you will see when you are about at night, if I let you see him at all. I will be there Emily, you can count on that."
She smiled almost sadly. "I think that if you tell me I will be alright, that I know I will be."
Erik stood up and took her hand, helping her to her feet. It was the most intimate moment he had experienced in years. He bent down and kissed the back of her hand. Stepping back, he released her. "Good Evening, Madame."
Emily nodded almost shyly, "Good Night, Monsieur."
