The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely.

Lorraine Hansberry

Chapter Eleven: My Husband William

His words echoed back to her 'my employees'.

Well, there you have it; so much for her silly romantic fantasy. Even Javier must be mistaken, she was just another employee. Emily felt she needed to leave. She turned making a show of checking the time on the mantel clock, "I thank you for the lunch, but I must be on my way."

Erik rose to his feet "Thank you for bringing the note for me." He offered it back to her, and she took it and placed it in her bag. It gave her another excuse not to look him in the eye. She felt so inept, so suddenly a gawky country born girl again.

He wanted her to stay. He had taken into his heart Javier's words in the darkness. How he and Phillippe could not help him in this. He knew next to nothing of talking to a woman. Agnes was an employee, a servant. Madame Giry had been practically a sister figure, keeping his secrets. Christine was the only one he had shared a connection with through the music.

He had traded with other women along the river; shop girls, prostitutes, or one of the crews' wives. Some had been kind, once they got over their initial fear of him. But it was always there in their eyes, the rejection, the unease, and the fascination with the mask not the man. She had been the first to look at him differently.

His thoughts raced for something else to say to her and remembered the comment about being a magician. "Why did M. Dugast call me a magician?"

Emily had gotten out of her chair and almost reached the door when he spoke. "Oh, that was the next day after I arrived. He wanted to know about you, he said you had not met face to face."

"And what did Madame tell them?" he genuinely wanted to know.

"I told him that your servants were most helpful, that you had a comfortable home, and that I didn't get to converse with you very long that night."

"And the others you have conversed with since you arrived?"

"Mostly the same thing," she stopped with a slight narrowing of her eyes, "what do you wish them to know?"

Erik shook his head, "There is nothing to know."

A part of her brain screamed 'Liar'. There had to be a lot of history behind a man who wore a mask, no, two masks. He must be distancing himself from one life to move into another, but why? Was he hiding from a past, or changing himself into what the other man could not be. Hadn't she gone through almost the same change? From a country kid who chased her siblings through fields of tall corn, to the business woman who had crossed an ocean?

In a low voice he added, "You never ask, Madame."

"We pursue business together, to ask would be personal." His eyes bored into hers, she added "You never ask either."

"What do people ask?"

"They want to know about the divorce." She glanced down at the desk, how much more could she say. "The rules of society don't apply to me as they do most women. Since I have been married, I am allowed more freedom then if I was inexperienced. I stand on a perceived line between to states of being, and choose which actions are best suited to my situation. That intrigues people." She gestured around the room "If I were an unmarried girl, I could not be in this room alone with you."

He would never view her as a 'girl'. Christine had been young, poised on the edge of womanhood. Emily was definitely a woman. Where Christine was ethereal, she was more of the earth. Her femininity was a siren's call to the masculine in him. Beyond the desire for sex, what was it about a woman's body that made a man want to grab on to those lush hips and pull her close, to revel in the soft, warm feel of their bodies.

Emily opened the door, "Well, thank you again and good afternoon Monsieur." She felt like a coward trying to distance herself from him as quickly as possible.

As she walked towards the hotel, she thought again about the night when he had said her name, and kissed her hand. You are such an idiot, Emily. Things just have to hit you over the head don't they? Frenchmen were renowned for being lovers; he was probably doing what every other one of his countrymen would have.

She was still hoping someone would fall in love with her for who she was, not what society said she should be. She was everything she was not supposed to be. Not that her family had not tried to prepare her for womanhood. There were piano lessons, and needlework along with the farm chores and care of the house. She could cook and sew but she could also shoot, butcher an animal, and fix broken things.

While her sister Vivian had made lovely dresses, and fancy doilies, Emily had darned clothes and patched the worn spots in her dresses and aprons. When there was money Vivian had bought ribbons, hair combs and jewelry. Emily had spent hers on books and a photo album for pictures she was collecting. When friends came over, Vivian made them tea and sat in the front parlor and talked. Emily had wandered around the barn or the fields, looking at trees and birds, or the rare moments when she could catch a snake off guard and wonder at its colored camouflage. Her sister had gone in the summer to visit other relatives; Emily had gone to her Grandfather's house.

When her brother had told her she was a 'freak', Emily became aware of the gap between her and the way the world wanted her to be. She tried harder to fit in. As she grew into her teenage years and boys became more interesting, her father had told her "Emily I want you to marry someone educated. Look for a man who can make a better life for you. One who will find the value in you."

The year that she met her husband William, she had gone with Vivian to visit a family in town. They introduce William to Emily, and it seemed that he was everything she was hoping to find. He was educated, and had just taken a job for the Remington Company in New York State. He was to be one of their salesmen. Looking back, she did not know what he saw in her, but he expressed interest in seeing her again. He had visited several times to the farm and one evening had asked her Father for her hand in marriage. Her Father had confirmed with her that this was what she wanted, and agreed that they could wed.

Like all newly weds, they were new to each other. William was delighted to introduce her to others as his charming little country wife. He picked out her dresses, and told her how to wear her hair. He even coached her on the proper etiquette for dinners and visiting.

The couple spent money on clothing for both of them. William had said, "I can't look professional in a cheap suit." So when things got lean, Emily agreed to take a job at the factory. When she began to work with the typewriters, William told her it was time for her to leave the factory and go for another job, his wife could no longer be a common factory worker, and she needed a job with more status.

William had arranged for her to work as a typist for a local lawyer. As the legal terms became more familiar, Emily had shared what she learned with her husband. At some point she had failed to notice his questions about her days at the law firm became more pointed. He wanted to know how cases turned out and what kind of settlements the lawyers were pressing to achieve.

As Emily became aware of this, she noticed other changes in her marriage. William seemed curter with her in public. He complained that she was not being friendly enough or that she had chosen the wrong subject to discuss with other guests. He finally told her she had to stay home and that he would do the entertaining of prospective clients that came into town. He required more of their cash, and he wanted to purchase a carriage.

As he did more traveling, he had little time for her. He complained of being tired when they went to bed. Since she had never conceived, Emily started to think that not having children was the cause of the strife. Vivian was now married with one child and another on the way. Taking the chance, she asked him again if there was anything she could do to repair their marriage, if the childlessness was part of their strife. "You're being stupid Emily," he threw at her "I don't need little brats hanging on to your skirts; I need a wife who will support me in my career!"

For another year Emily did the best she could to be the wife he demanded she be. Until the day he finally came and told her he needed to know what the lawyer she worked for was doing on a case against one of his clients. Emily was genuinely shocked that he would ask, and knew that she could be compromising the trust of that lawyer. She flatly refused to tell him. It was then she realized her worth as his wife was draining away. She had no place other than to be a useful tool for him to use.

He had railed at her that she was ruining his career; he left and did not return that night. The next day Emily went to her employer and told him what had happened, begging to keep her job. He agreed to keep her and told her to be smart and go get what things she considered hers in the flat and find another place to stay. She did so, packing up what she could use and letting the land lady sell off the rest. She left Williams' things packed in their small sitting room and locked the door behind her.

Finding a room mate from her days at the factory, she moved into a miserable little apartment with three other women. She cried herself to sleep until she had drained herself of any of the emotion she still held for her husband. She filed for a divorce through her employer, and a year later for the position in France. He had wisely advised her to keep her married name.

When she had been accepted by Remington, she made one last trip home. She dreaded having to look her Father in the eye after being the first person to divorce in the family. He had hugged her hard and told her that she had to keep trying, that a man was out there that would love her for the woman she was. She had come to France on a whim, hoping she would fit in better with enlightened Europeans.

As she reached the hotel, she checked her messages and went upstairs. Kicking off her shoes she curled up on the bed hugging her pillow. "I never asked because I wear my own mask, Monsieur" she said. Emily the confident, Emily the professional, Emily the happy, friendly little American, Emily the employee. She hugged the pillow harder and wept.

A/N Congats to the Grads and Happy Summer! This was an 'Emily' chapter. The sparks fly between them next chapter. It's called 'Obey Me'…can you guess why?