Chapter Fifteen: Language of the Fan

It was dark in the study.

Someone had left a windows opened and the cool breeze was fanning the curtain away from the casements, letting in shafts of moonlight that painted the floor with light. He pushed the curtain aside, noticing a piece of music lying in the moonlight. As he knelt to retrieve it, the hem of a skirt appeared in his view.

Emily stood at the edge of the light, looking down at the music. Her head down turned she appeared to be listening to the notes on the page. Her face was suffused with the most exquisite look of joy. Her lips moved, but Erik could not hear her words.

"What is it, Emily?" He moved closer to her. She continued to look at the music as the breeze lifted the corner of the page and pushed it gently towards her. As it touched the hem of her robe, he heard the first gentle swelling notes of the song. Her gown gave off a faint glow where it peeked from under the robe.

Erik reached out to pick up the page. At the first touch he felt a warmth move through his fingers, up his arm and into the core of his body. Behind it came the pulse of the music's time, the heartbeat that bound the notes together.

Stepping into the light, her outstretched hands touched the paper. The glow from the gown turned almost blinding, he had to close his eyes. Her voice was so close to his ear he shivered, "A quiet heart…."

He awoke to the sound of her voice trailing away in the darkness. He brushed his hand over the empty side of the bed, like a child testing the dark to see if the dream was real. The music continued.


He kept an eye on the time, and instructed Etienne to be sure he knew to send Emily upstairs to him when she arrived. He was finishing up with Phillipe when he heard a knock at the study door. "Enter," he said.

Emily came in carrying papers in her hand. "Hello Phillipe," she said. Turning to Erik, "Hello, I brought you the contracts."

He accepted them and asked, "Would you please take a seat Madame? Are you both ready for the evening at the Corbeau Theater?"

"Yes Monsieur, I will secure the carriage and pick up Emily at her apartment before eight. We have a box with Madame Pinson and her sister. During the intermission she will give us an introduction to Monsieur Gaultier." Phillipe answered, handing Emily a paper, "This is for you from Madame Pinson."

Emily took the papers, looking it over her smile faded. Erik noted the change and asked, "What is it?"

Emily shook her head, "I'm not taking a fan!" At the perplexed looks the men gave her she started reading, "This is about the 'Language of the Fan". She read:

Carrying the open fan in the left hand means 'Come and talk to me'. A half opened fan pressed to the lips means'You may kiss me'. The number of sticks shown answers the question 'At what hour'. Covering the left ear with an open fan means 'Do not betray our secret'.

"The list goes on and on, this is ridiculous," she pronounced. "If I scratch my nose I could wind up eloping for heaven sake!"

Phillipe laughed, "It's alright if you don't take a fan. It's a game people play, they use gloves and parasols as well for these little messages to potential lovers."

"Well, gloves are a necessity, but I don't need an umbrella inside, so I suppose I will endure."

"Madame is uncomfortable with these practices," Erik asked.

"Well, yes. I didn't grow up in a place with such high society. And well, if people wanted to talk, they just talked."

Genuinely puzzled at her attitude Erik asked, "You walk our countryside with loaded guns, but this Fan 'language' as is in this paper disturbs you?"

She grimaced and shook her head, "It's just all too," she hesitated, wondering how the French would translate 'girlie' or 'fussy'. "Well, it's just too frivolous. It's just one of those silly things men expect women to enjoy doing."

Erik noted with pleasure that Emily didn't enjoy the elaborate rituals of public seduction. It seemed in character for her. He preferred a more private form of seduction as well. It seemed a good time to test the waters.


Emily had arranged her schedule to be done early and promised to have dinner ready so her room mates could help prepare her for the theater. After their dinner, she and Perrine sewed on the last of the lace on the dress she was to wear.

Emily bought the dress at a second hand shop while out with Sophie. She had already been out in her three remaining dresses, and the cost of a new one was prohibitive for the number of times she could be seen in it. Re-arranging the bustle added a small train to the back and some contrasting lace lengthened the capped sleeve and added interest to the dropped shoulders.

Emily had indulged in a new pair of shoes, and longer evening gloves that reached to her elbows. Hugette Pinson had recommended a fan, and told her a very small beaded bag was appropriate to carry with her. With that in mind Emily had found a bead shop, and altered her one small black bag to compliment the emerald green of her dress.

Olivia was going to help with her hair. She would be keeping the curling iron heated, and doing sections of Emily's hair in ringlets. They estimated about and hour and a half to get dressed and finish the hair.

Finished dressing, she sat and sipped a glass of water until a knock at the door. Perrine answered and invited in Phillipe. Livy and Perrine both made a fuss of how handsome he looked. Emily agreed, telling him, "I need to go find a stick to beat the women off of you with!"

Phillipe rolled his eyes, "Every man wishes to be so lucky!" He produced a small black velvet box tied with a red and gold bow. "This is for you with Monsieur De La Shaumette's compliments."

Taking the box, she untied the ribbon while the others waited. Opening the lid she found a small card tucked in the top, and underneath was a pair of earrings with a beautifully matched pair of tear drop shaped diamonds suspended from dark blue sapphires. "Oh my," she breathed. She read the card:

A simple elegance for

an elegant woman

DLS

Livy was quick to take the box as Perrine removed the small pearls that Emily had dressed with. Clasping the earrings, both women stepped back and smiled. "They are perfect for you Emily," Livy said. Perrine ran to the dresser and brought the hand mirror for Emily.

Looking at her reflection she agreed that his choice was impeccable. As he had written, a simple elegance, not over stated, and the color of the sapphires matched her eyes.

"Madame is pleased?" Phillipe asked.

"Yes, Madame is pleased," she smiled.


Emily thoroughly enjoyed the theater that evening. Hugette and Therese were quite taken with Phillipe, promising to introduce him to some of the unmarried ladies that were present at the performance. During the intermission, the audience adjourned to the theater lobby where drinks were served. Emily and Phillipe circulated among the crowd saying hellos.

Emily noticed Hugette pointedly looking at her, she and Therese stood with a man who must be Monsieur Gaultier. Making there way over, she and Phillipe were introduced.

Jules Gaultier had and air of dignity and grace about him that impressed Emily immediately. He was beautifully attired, bald except for the closed cropped grey hair, with even features and intelligent blue eyes. When Remington was mentioned, he started inquiring into how successful a venture the typewriters were proving to be.

When they announced the curtain call in ten minutes, Emily shook hands with M. Gaultier who asked, "I understand that Madame Pinson has arranged for you to display your firearms again. I will be attending this event with my son and daughter."

"I would be delighted to meet them, Monsieur. Stop by and say hello. Perhaps I could persuade you to try a shot."

"Ah, Madame is generous. I am quite a gun enthusiast myself." He bid her good evening as they went to their respective boxes.


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The voice floated out of the alley darkness, "You have something for me?"

The woman was leaning against the building's corner looking up and down the street. "The little one told us you were offering ten francs." She dropped a hand, into which he slipped the rolled up bill. She folded it into her palm. "You know the usual ones, but there is a new man. He's young, tall, blonde fellow. Name is Trahan. He did some odd jobs until he got picked up by the crew on one of 'Shaumette's boats, the Nyx I think."

After another casual glance down the street, she turned slowly and looked into the alley. Goose bumps ran up her arms. No matter how many times she had sold information, no matter how well he paid, how he could melt into the darkness made her shiver.


The next morning Emily arrived at the house a little bemused by the thought of thanking Monsieur for the earrings. She had been tired leaving the theater, but once at home she sat in the quiet dark of the little sitting area of the apartment and thought about him. The card had described her as an 'elegant woman'. Did he really see her that way? She never thought of herself as having any grace or elegance.

Phillipe heard the knock from the kitchen and went to open it. Emily smiled up at him and said "Good Morning. Do you have it?"

"Yes, here," he handed her a folded up section of the newspaper as they moved into the parlor.

Emily took it and sat on the sofa, unfolding it she read. "Oh no," she said.

Phillipe, his lips forming a grim line nodded, "Yes, I'm afraid he is dead."

"No!" she said in a mournful voice, dropping the paper into her lap. Her lips formed a little pout, "He was my favorite."

Sliding on his coat as he descended the stair, Erik heard the distress in Emily's voice. "What has happened?"

"Sir Henry Dalrymple is dead," Phillipe pronounced. "There was an avalanche you see, and only Christopher Morriston has been found by the rescuers."

Emily folded up the paper, "Thunderation!" she said in English. She leaned her head back on the sofa raising her hand to her forehead as all fainting women were reputed to do, "My life is over! I shall be in mourning for a year!"

Phillipe handed the paper to Erik and indicated the story that had been running in the paper. Erik hadn't taken much interest in it, as it featured some English spies, and an Italian Doctor, who were always rescuing an Austrian Baroness whose purpose in life was to create more havoc to be rescued from. He glanced at Emily who was affecting a heaving sigh, "I loved that man," she said in a wistful voice.

Amused, he smiled. Emily's playful side again. It was becoming one of the things he enjoyed during her visits. "Come, the coffee is ready and I have toast as well. You can console yourself with breakfast."

He offered her a hand, and she grasped it, rising from the sofa. Erik held on to her hand and took a step back, she followed in kind. Once again, there was no hint in her face that she found this brief contact with him repugnant in any way. The single tongue of hope's flame was starting to burn brighter.

They moved to the dinning room table where three plates were laid out with toast piled in the center of the table, pots of jam sitting next to it and a crock of butter. "Do you prefer coffee or tea in the morning?"

"I'll take either, but coffee seems to give me the energy to get moving sooner," Emily replied.

He brought in the pot and poured the coffee. "Tell me about the theater."

Emily and Phillipe took turns describing the evening. They seemed equally impressed by Jules Gaultier.

"So, from both of your impressions, he seems a decent man to trade with," Erik surmised. "Now on to the second part of the plan, when you meet Sunday afternoon at Madame Pinson's, I want you to pass the Paris Doctors' bill to him. I will leave it up to you how much you want to tell him of our suspicions. If he is receptive, then I want to find some one who can be relied upon to pass information back to us bypassing any business channels, especially Denis Chalin's office."

"Monsieur Chalin?" Emily asked.

"I have found he has an assistant who knew of the schedule of the boat that day, and writes in English. His name is Giles Charbonneau. He also initialed the Paris doctor bill for M. Gaultier. Someone took it from Paris, and directed it be paid through Charbonneau."

"So, does this clear M. Gaultier as a suspect?" Emily asked.

"I am not ruling out anything yet. I will rely upon your and Phillipe's assessment on Sunday."

As they sat finishing their coffee, Phillipe decided it was time to leave them alone. Agnes and Etienne wouldn't arrive for another hour, so they would be undisturbed. He new Monsieur must be wondering what she thought of his gift. He'd have to ask Emily or Javier later how this conversation would finish.

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