"What do the duties of the title involve?" Erik asked. He needed to change the subject.
"Mostly managing the accounts. Monsieur Fulmeroix is here to witness your acceptance of the title. He will file it with the courts. I live at the Chateau de Leon. It is only ten miles from here. It is a grand old place, build four hundred years ago. I shall not be spending another winter here. The cold is too much for my old bones." The old woman coughed harshly. The lawyer cleared his throat. It was the first sound he'd made throughout the entire discussion.
"Eustacia, there is the matter a positive identity." Monsieur Fulmeroix said, addressing his grandmother meekly. So his grandmother had a name, Eustacia. It fit her, somehow.
"Oh, yes. There is one more thing. Because I have not seen you in over twenty-five years, I must see you without the mask. It is the only way to make a positive identification."
"No. You can keep the title and the money." Erik said flatly and rose, signaling the end of their meeting.
"You are being overly sensitive about this, Erik. I buried four infants before one of my offspring survived and he died after fathering one child. You are all the family I have left in the world."
"I am sorry for you, but that doesn't change anything." Erik said crisply. He started for the door but questions had been forming in his mind over so many of the things she'd said. He stopped. "Just one question, Madame. What did you mean that you worried I would disgrace the family?"
"I thought you were insane. Insanity is often hereditary and I believed that you may have inherited madness and it would reflect on our family. I cared too much what others thought. Gossip is a vicious thing. There was hardly a soul in my close circle that didn't know you existed. They are all dead now. Your mother tried to protect you, but a disfigurement such as yours was hard to hide indefinitely.
"There is a price on my head. Did you know that?" Erik challenged her. She seemed to know far more than she should already.
"Yes. One of the perks of the nobility is that these things can be dealt with discreetly and finally. Money talks. There is no absolute proof that you did anything. Experts have examined the cable, holding the chandelier, and all agree that it was old and of inadequate strength. The war has at least distracted the public attention from your escapades. Another thing in your favor is that people are only willing to attack those who are weaker than themselves. In a mob, everyone has courage and their position is validated by the numbers that join in. Alone, most of them are cowards. There will be no one who will have the courage or the position to challenge the Marquis de Leon. Surround yourself with the right people and you will never need to show your face."
"What's in it for me? I have enough money to live comfortably on my own, and I don't care about the title. I see it as an unwanted responsibility."
"I hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but I have some leverage here, too. The police won't come after you unless someone gives them a reason. I'm not above blackmail either." She stated boldly, and Erik knew she wouldn't hesitate to do as she promised.
"You surprise me, Grandmére. I would think that the shame of seeing your grandson's name in the arrests column of the Epoque would be too great."
"I will be dead soon, anyway. You will be rotting in prison for years."
Erik laughed. "So what do I have to do to keep you off my back?"
"Children. I want great-grandchildren. The day I hear that a good woman is caring your child, I can die happy."
"Let's not waste any more time!" Erik pronounced drily.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
"There is no need for you to move out of this house. We are welcome here as long as necessary. Meg, I know you are doing this to spite me." Madame Giry confronted Meg in her daughter's bedroom. "Biagio Delvoix is not husband material. I can't believe that you are going to go through with this marriage."
"He has money, Mother. Lots of it." Meg replied calmly. She folded up a nightgown and placed it in the large trunk that was rapidly filling up with her worldly possessions.
"There are more important things in this would than money. I will not have it. This is ridiculous." Madame Giry's voice rose in panic.
"I am the one getting married, Mother, not you. So, if you wish to choose a husband, you should choose one for yourself. I will be staying with Lily until the wedding. Oh ,yes, I almost forgot to tell you. The engagement party is to be held at the Fairmonts'. Lily and I have it all planned. Of course, the cost will be great, but Lily has agreed to loan me the money. I shall have to pay her back after the wedding."
"There will be no wedding! And, that is final!"
"I'm of age, Mother. You cannot stop it." Meg said smoothly. "The engagement party will be a masque. I think it will all be very exciting." Meg smiled, unperturbed.
"This is all too much for me to deal with right now. You don't know anything about this man. What kind of life will you have with him?" Madame Giry demanded.
"What difference does it make? I'm not marrying him for the life I will have. I'm marrying him for his money. I thought we both understood that."
"You don't seem to understand that a marriage contract is final."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mother. Divorce has been legal for many years. But don't worry. I shan't divorce him."
"What is it that you want from me, Meg. When I suggested that you get married, I had in mind a good man who would treat you well and be a good provider. Now tell me what is so wrong with that?" Madame Giry stared at her daughter; tears moistened her eyes.
"Nothing at all. I will do my duty and marry. I'm sorry that you don't approve of Monsieur Delvoix. He is a bit crude and unrefined, but I will try to adjust." Meg said, closing the locks on the trunk. "There now, I am packed and ready to go. The carriage will be along shortly. Goodbye, Mother. I will see you at the engagement party, and in the meantime, try and have a little faith in me."
Meg left the House of Clureoux for the last time. He mother wept bitter tears and Aunt Clair did her best to comfort the woman. Lily had sent a carriage for Meg and a footman, who helped load her trunk on the back of the carriage. The carriage pulled away from boarding house and Meg succumbed to the tears and sorrow she had been hiding for the last week. There was no one in the carriage with her, as the footman rode with the driver. By the time she reached the Fairmonts' estate, she was cried out.
Lily met her eagerly and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Meg, don't be sad. It will work out. I promise."
"What if it doesn't?" Meg looked at her friend with red, puffy eyes.
"I know it sounds risky, but it isn't. I have it all worked out. Come now, and have some tea. We will talk. I have an idea for your dress. Purple, I think." Lily said delighted with the prospect. "We will have to put the announcement in all the papers immediately. This will be one of the most published engagement parties ever. I am having more fun planning your engagement than I had with my own. I was terrified. It is so much more fun wreaking havoc in the lives of others." She giggled impishly. "With Stuart and Reggie so far away, I am in dire need of some amusement."
It was late in the afternoon when Meg unpacked her things in Lily's lovely guest room. The decor was white and cream colors accented with the occasional wine colored accents such as the velvet pillows, the rug in front of the open fire place and the vase of fresh roses. The furniture, also, was of richly hued cherry wood. The room was large and airy, with two big open windows and a set of glass double doors that opened out on to a spacious balcony. Meg could see the place in the garden where she and Erik had kissed, when she stood next to the balcony's rail of carved, white stone.
It was odd that she would find herself at the Fairmonts' grand estate again and under such bizarre circumstances. In her wildest dreams, she never thought that she would be an honored guest here. Lily was such charming company. Michelle had mentioned that Lily was quite the young adventurer. Meg could believe it now. Nothing daunted her. Meg wished she had the same confidence. Lily really believed that Erik would come forth and declare himself rather than see her married to the infamous Biagio Delvoix. Lily would insist all the newspapers publish the engagement party a full two weeks before the actual event in order to give Erik plenty of time to think about it. That was her plan. Meg was feeling more apprehensive than ever.
Meg finished unpacking and dressed for dinner. Lily met her in the dinning room, full of ideas for the party.
"I think we should invite the de Chagnys. They are in London and I don't know if they will want to travel, but it would be an unforgivable oversight not to send them an invitation." Lily said, sitting down at the head of the table. The table was set for two. Meg wondered about the rest of the house hold. It seemed like an extravagance to light up the whole house for just two people. Lily didn't seem to think anything of her plush surroundings. Meg didn't want to betray her own poor ways, so she withheld comment.
"Why invite them to a farce? Isn't it enough that we have involved so many people already in this doomed engagement?" Meg asked shyly. She didn't want to offend Lily, who had been so generous already.
"Oh, Meg, you need to relax and enjoy the adventure. Life is too short and precious to take everything so seriously."
"I wish I had your free spirit."
"It is yours for the asking. I give you permission to free your own spirit and let your imagination soar. Let go, Meg." Lily coaxed.
"What if Erik doesn't come? I will still be engaged to Monsieur Delvoix. It is hardly fair to him to use him this way. I don't even like him, but he has done nothing to me to deserve this kind of treatment."
"Don't give him another thought. Perhaps he hasn't done anything to you to cause you pain and embarrassment, but he deserves this. He has spoiled the reputations of enough other women that his punishment is well earned."
"But I still don't see how I'm going to get out of the engagement if Erik doesn't make his intentions known." Meg said nervously.
"That is the easy part. Monsieur Delvoix is very predictable. He will not be able to resist the attentions of the ladies. All we have to do is have you or someone else, me perhaps, discover him and the lady in a compromising situation. It will be all you need to break the engagement and return to the arms of your mother who will be overjoyed that you came to your senses." Lily declared easily, and rang for the servants to bring in the first course.
"And after that, I will get a job with the ballet and earn the money to pay our family's debts." Meg said, breathing a sigh of relief.
"No. Erik will come, Meg. Believe in yourself and believe in him."
"I hope so. You have gone to so much trouble to help. It would be a shame if it were all for nothing."
"Don't even say it. It is not all for nothing. I would have been simply bored out of my mind if I hadn't cooked up this little charade. I am having the time of my life! Stuart wouldn't want me to get too bored while he is away. I assure you, this is the least of the pranks I've gotten myself into." Lily rolled her eyes at possibilities.
"Michelle told me about the time you were being punished and your mother took your shoes away so you wouldn't try to escape. It seems that you stole a horse and rode bareback and barefoot to school." Meg laughed at the mental image.
"Did she tell you about the time one of our classmate, Susannah, was being punished for something silly and she was excluded from her own birthday party. I couldn't let such an injustice take place. So, some friends and I smuggled an entire party through her bedroom window." Lily laughed heartily at the memory.
"Did you get away with it?"
"Well, we would have if Mary Beth hadn't smuggled a bottle of gin along with the birthday cake, gotten drunk and decided to sing a toast to the birthday girl. We tried to quiet her down, but she just wouldn't cooperate. Then we tried to beat a hasty retreat, but only one could climb down the trellis at a time. I was the last one there, when Susannah's mother showed up to see what the noise was about. The room reeked of liquor. That was why I was sentenced to my room for the week, and my mother took my shoes. There was a play at school and I wanted to see it. You know the rest."
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Erik woke to the smell of something burning. His quick investigation revealed his breakfast, charred and unrecognizable.
"I'm sorry, M'sir. I'm still getting used to the gas burners." Garrick waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air and opened a window. "I will try again."
"Don't. I'll just have tea." Erik picked up the tea tray and carried it to the dinning room to escape the smell of his incinerated breakfast. Garrick followed him with a copy of the Epoque and some croissants from the village bakery. Erik wiped the dust from the table with his handkerchief and set the tray down. Garrick noticed the gesture and blushed.
"I'll dust and sweep later, M'sir. I'm sorry that the house is so untidy. I know that you like it clean." Garrick said apologetically.
"I'll do it." Erik said, discarding the soiled cloth. "I shall have to do some laundry as well. It is too much for you to do everything. I'm not a slave driver. Bachelors, like ourselves, need a housekeeper, a laundress, and a cook to look after us."
"I thought that you were going to marry." Garrick said, sitting down to drink his own tea and sneaking a look at his master to see if his words had any effect.
"I'm biding my time for now. With a stroke of luck, the old girl will die before I have to marry." Erik drank his tea and picked up the Epoque. It was already open to the society page. In bold print, the scheduled engagement party of Margaret Giry and Biagio Delvoix jumped at him. He pretended to ignore it. Garrick was studying him rather closely and he suspected that the youth had something to do with the page being turned. Erik suddenly regretted teaching the boy to read. Garrick reminded him, daily, in one way or another that Meg was marrying a lout who knew no self control.
"Yes," Erik said, turning the page, "I think we need a housekeeper, preferably a stout woman who is unbearably plain and a hearty worker. Now that we can afford such luxuries, I think a chef is in order as well. I wonder how Francois would feel about joining our little bachelor's club." Garrick stood, retrieved the handkerchief and returned to the kitchen with a defeated sigh. Erik smiled, taking another drink of his tea. "We shall leave for Paris tomorrow and bring back, with us, a housekeeper and a cook; I think."
Early the next morning Erik saddled the powerful, strong, chestnut stallion for himself and a mild natured palomino mare for Garrick. The horses were a gift from his grandmére. He knew she was trying to buy his loyalty by giving him his pony. But, they were part of his inheritance anyway. It did bother him, however, that she was being so meddlesome. Having someone, not even of his liking, make important decisions for him was just plain irritating. He was a grown man for pity sake. Why did this woman think that she had anything to say about what he did with his life? He knew the answer. He just didn't like it. In spite of his declaration to the contrary, he did want the money, though perhaps not the title. Going without the basic comforts of life had been a fear he fought constantly. He'd known ragged days of hunger and cold, and he knew that such conditions were never far away.
Monsieur Fulmeroix had delivered the accounts Erik was to manage. And, though he'd just begun to go through them, it was clear, Erik was a very rich man. He now owned a house in Paris which was staffed all year in case of his unexpected arrival. He also owned modest Chateaus in Toulouse, Limoges and Orleans, which were maintained year around by a live-in staff. Monsieur Fulmeroix informed him that his grandmother also used the houses regularly when traveling between her castle in the Midi-Pyrenees and Paris. Evidently his grandmother disliked staying at public inns and hotels. The staff had been informed that he would have unlimited access to the houses. The old lawyer tried to put Erik's mind at ease by assuring him that the staff at all four houses had proved themselves reliable for many years and would not jeopardize their positions by gossiping.
Erik and Garrick reached Paris three days later. It was almost dark when they arrived at the old mansion. The construction was of gray stone with a black mansard style roof. White shutters and trim adorned the windows and doors. Erik was still unused to approaching a house from the street and automatically looked for another way into the house. It was around two hundred years old, but in good repair. Light shone through several windows. Unlike most houses around it, there was a high fence of natural stone, topped by decorative, wrought iron rail. Huge iron gates barred his entrance. The gates proved to be unlocked when Erik tried the latch. The two weary travelers approached the house on the cobblestone drive. Erik was still looking for an alternative to the front door when he reminded himself for the tenth time that the house was his and the staff were unlikely to challenge his right to be there. Even the shroud of darkness did not hide the grandeur of the grounds. Fountains and stone statuary were illuminated by fading light. Trees and shrubs lined the drive leading to the house.
Erik left the horses with Garrick and went up the wide stairway to the great double doors. The key fit perfectly and the door opened easily. For some reason, Erik was surprised. It was like every Christmas and birthday that had been forgotten was being compensated for. Highly polished, white marble tiles shone on the floor. Gilded candelabras and gas fueled flames lit the room. A wide, curved stairway with a white ornate balustrade led to the second floor. Nine thick, marble pillars supported the weight of the exposed hallway above the center of the entrance. The spacious foyer, which could be called nothing less than extravagant, was a precursor to the splendor and luster of the rest of the house.
A balding, middle aged butler appeared and bowed. "Good evening, Monseiur. My name is Milton Van Doren. It is an honor to serve you." The man had obviously been prepared to some extent for the mask, because he avoided looking at it directly or appearing shocked. He had a aura about him that implied very little shocked him, these days. The front door remained open and the butler looked out to see Garrick waiting with the horses. "I will send for William to care for your horses. Will you be requiring refreshment?" He asked and pulled a heavy gold, tasseled cord.
"Yes I think we will take a light refreshment. Thank you, Milton. Are there stables for the horses here?"
"Yes, Monsieur. There is a barn and stables beyond the garden wall." Milton pointed in the direction of the back yard. "May I take your hat and cloak, Monsieur? Do you have any bags?"
"Yes, they are with my assistant, Garrick, who remains with the horses now." Erik removed his cloak, hat and gloves. Milton took them and put them in a nearby coat closet.
"Perhaps you would like a brandy, Monsieur, in the library." Milton led the way to a room with walnut paneled walls and scarlet upholstered chairs and a sofa. An oriental rug with hues of scarlet, forest, cream, gold and black occupied a large portion of the floor. At the two large windows hung heavy draperies of scarlet velvet trimmed with gold fringe. Oil lamps with smoky amber chimneys cast the room in golden shades of light.
Erik caught his reflection in the gold framed mirror set above a large marble mantle and fireplace. Behind him hung a portrait. The likeness was uncanny. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it from the perspective of himself standing next to the portrait. He turned to stare at the face that should have been his own. It had to be his father. . It was a handsome face that peered out from the canvas. The hair in the portrait was darker than his own natural color. He held his hand up to cover half of the face in the portrait.
"Your brandy, Monsieur." Erik turned, startled at the sound of the butler's voice. Milton handed him the snifter and bowed. "Would you have your assistant dine with you or in the kitchen?" Erik was slightly taken aback at the question.
"With me, of course."
"Would you like for him to join you now?"
Erik nodded.
"I will show him in, Monsieur." Milton said and moments later Garrick followed the butler into the library.
"Pinch me and tell me I'm not dreaming!" Garrick said after emitting a low whistle. "On second thought, if it is a dream, I'd rather not wake up."
Erik smiled at the boy's exuberance.
"What can I get for the young man to drink?" Milton addressed Erik. Erik was still unused to the customary relationships between master and servant. He'd come to think of Garrick as a friend.
"Ask him." Erik said. Milton looked at the youth, expectantly.
"Cold lemonade." Garrick responded cheerfully.
"Of course, Monsieur."
Erik and Garrick dined on roast chicken, cheese and rice souffle with steamed peas in butter sauce, crusty sourdough rolls, fruit salad, and for dessert, raspberry tarts.
Garrick ate heartily, exclaiming his appreciation after sampling each of the culinary treats. "How will I ever be the same? Please, M'sir, don't make me eat my own cooking again!" He said, after finishing his meal. "If all this were mine, I would drink my brandy and smoke cigars in a steaming bubble bath."
"Where did you manage to hear of such a thing?" Erik questioned, laughing a little at the boy's enthusiasm.
"My mother used to work for a rich gentleman and she said that was what he did, whenever he won at the races."
"Milton," Erik addressed the butler. "My young friend here would like a steaming bubble bath, a cigar and a brandy. See that he gets it, would you?" Garrick's jaw dropped and he stared at Erik.
"M'sir!" Garrick voice skipped an octave in his surprise.
"Enjoy your bath. I will be going out this evening. I can't say that I've missed Paris, but I have neglected some of my old haunts." Erik turned to the butler. "Garrick shall require some new clothes. Could you take him shopping tomorrow morning and help him choose something decent? Also take one of my suits to the tailor, Andre Rubens. He will be able to duplicate it. Tell him I'd like a dozen."
"Yes, Monsieur. Will you require a carriage or a horse when you go out this evening?"
"A carriage, I think." Erik was still a little saddle sore from riding all day.
"Do you require a driver?"
"No, but I don't know how late I will be."
"It doesn't matter, Monsieur. William will be available to care for the horse, whenever you return. Perhaps, Monsieur, you would like to see your rooms, for the evening, before you leave."
Erik agreed.
"Also, Monsieur, do you wish to meet the staff. They are anxious to meet you."
Erik hesitated. He felt reluctant to be on display, but refusing to meet with them would bring on distrust. The cook had prepared an excellent meal. He would be a poor master not to acknowledge the effort. "Of course, bring them in."
"Yes, Monsieur." Milton bowed and withdrew from the room. Almost instantly he returned, followed by eight more people. Erik stood to greet them. Milton introduced the housekeeper, a cultured woman on the better side of forty as his wife, Stella. Genevieve, also a woman of about forty, was the cook. The chamber maids, Darcy and Lianne were young girls, still in their teens, as was the kitchen maid, Wendy. All three girls were Milton's daughters. Phoebe, was the capable looking woman responsible for the laundry. William, Phoebe's husband, was the carriage driver and groom, while his brother Herbert took care of the grounds and garden. They, too, had been prepared for the mask, for none of them showed any sign of surprise at the sight of him. Erik was pleased and touched that these people would receive him without fear. Darcy and Leanne even blushed and nudged each other when he nodded to them politely. Wendy was looking at Garrick shyly. It was her look that reminded him that he should introduce his assistant and himself.
"I am Erik, the new Marquis de Leon. This is Garrick Mahoney, my secretary and assistant. Thank you for the welcome and all of your hard work here. It a comfort to know that I am so well received by all of you." The small group beamed their pleasure at his words.
"We shall be getting about our work now." Milton addressed the staff more than Erik.
"They seem nice." Garrick said after they left. Erik nodded, but did not comment. He was still getting used to being in the company of so many people at once. There was none that seemed intimidating and he was getting over wanting to intimidate others. There was a closeness they shared with each other that was touching. They were a family. Erik stood and turned away so the boy would not see the tears that moistened his eyes. The cheery group had been warm and welcoming. Why did it make him feel more alone than ever?
Milton returned to show them to their rooms upstairs. There were eight bedrooms on the second floor. The two bedrooms on the main floor were used by his grandmother and Monsieur Fulmeroix when they were in the city. The rooms on the third level were for the staff.
Erik's room was paneled in rich walnut wainscot on the lower portion and cream colored wallpaper on the upper wall. The two large widows opened as French doors out on to a spacious balcony overlooking the artful gardens and were framed by velvet drapes of hunter green and gold fringe. The deep green bedspread was a rich satin brocade featuring a leaf pattern and red berries. The bed was large and canopied with a wood frame. Curtains of a richly textured brocade in the same cloth as the bedspread were tied back against the four posters. A chest of drawers matched the French provincial style of the bed. Above the black marble fireplace a painting of a pair of mallards just taking flight hung, flanked by a pair of carved wooden ducks, also in flight. Between the windows two comfortable, velvet upholstered chairs of the same hue as the draperies were placed invitingly. A large, gold framed mirror occupied much of the space on the wall between the windows. Gaslight flames burned lowed, casting the room in a softened incandescence. The bedroom smelled of lavender and something else spicy and woody. There was a walk-in closet and an adjoining bathroom.
Garrick's room, further down the wide hallway, was smaller yet no less comfortable. There was a common bathroom accommodating two other rooms near by.
Erik was sufficiently impressed with the tasteful decor and over-all warmth of the house. Never had he believed that such a place would be his. The Chateau de Bagen was just a country cottage in comparison. The other three houses were just modest little houses that were maintained by local people who had homes of their own in the city. He and Garrick had spent a night at each of them while traveling to Paris and never seen the people who looked after the houses.
Erik needed to put some distance between himself and the house. The carriage was waiting. Milton returned his cloak and hat. Erik found some solace in the dark streets of Paris and the rhythmic bounce of the carriage. The horse was well trained and easy to manage. But Erik rarely had trouble with animals. It was the human species that gave him trouble.
It was all a little too much at once. The house, servants, the title and even the money. On some level Erik always knew he was born to privilege, he felt it in his bones. In someways, the mansion felt like coming home. In another, more desperate one, it felt like a trap.
Never had he known the responsibility of a real home and a family that depended on him for their upkeep. The Chateau de Bagen did not have servants and if he lost it for some reason, the only person to suffer would have been himself. Garrick could take care of himself. Erik did not doubt it. The tremendous duty of keeping the holdings of the title prosperous was beginning to dawn on him. There were leases being paid monthly on property and businesses, but that income would stop if the business failed.
He'd read in the paper, that after the uprising of the Paris Commune, the government issued an edict that poor families were to be forgiven nine months rent. At the time, it didn't occur to Erik that it would be his problem. But that was before he knew that he owned an entire block of housing in one of the poorest districts in the city. There were farms barely surviving due, in part, to the high rent on the land. All of the properties and businesses together produced a generous profit. Individually, they were not producing as much as they should. The need for more money did not drive Erik to work out strategies for better management. It was the fear of losing what he had already and causing many others to lose their livelihoods by default that tortured his mind. The mansion produced no income of its own. What would happen to Milton and his family if Erik failed to fulfil his end of the deal? They looked to him for their employment. A bead of sweat broke out on his brow at the thought. It was the fear of failure that made him feel so alone.
Erik found himself on the banks of the Seine. It was one of his favorite places to be when he needed to think. The ageing castle in which his grandmother lived at the moment was undoubtedly a national treasure, but it was costing a fortune to maintain. She'd said herself that she didn't want to spend another winter there. It could be turned into something useful like a boarding school or another useful institution. If it could just carry it's own cost of operation, it would be worth the investment. Otherwise it could be sold. He doubted his grandmother would see it that way. There were other ways to improve the properties to make them more profitable. Erik began to relax at each prospect. The problems weren't insurmountable. They just needed to be dealt with one at a time. He was beginning to look forward to the challenges ahead.
An agitated breeze stirred the air. It was a moonless night and there were no stars out, due to the cloud cover. A storm was brewing. Erik lit the lanterns on the carriage and started back to the mansion. It was still a little soon for him to think of it as home. Erik approached a pub, well lit and boisterous. He could see from the light spilling from the windows of the tavern that some boys were tormenting someone huddled against some crates. The high pitched keening sounded vaguely familiar. As he drew nearer. He recognized the huddled figure. It was Patsy. One of the boys threw something at her and she flinched. It was a stone. Erik stopped the carriage and jumped down from the buckboard. The boys ran, disappearing into the night. He was alone in the street except for Patsy. He approached her cautiously, not wanting to frighten her further.
"Patsy." Erik touched her shoulder. She shrank away from him. Her clothes and hair were even dirtier than he remembered. "It's better now. You are safe." She continued the keening. He wasn't likely to do her any good here in the street and there was little chance that she would trust him or anyone. He lifted her into his arms. Though she resisted, she did not possess the strength to prevent him from carrying her to the carriage and placing her inside. Erik drove the carriage with Patsy in it back to the mansion.
He carried her inside to the surprise and horror of Milton.
"This is Patsy. She needs a bath and someone to help her. I cannot imagine the scandal it would cause if I were to do it myself. She is probably mentally ill in some capacity, but she is harmless and needs some attention." Erik said standing in the foyer with the keening woman in his arms.
"Stella!" Milton ran halfway up the stairway and called frantically for his wife, who appeared almost instantly.
"For heaven sakes, what is all the fuss?" Stella came hurrying down stairs. She stopped when she saw Erik and his guest. Milton was still gasping for air and something to say.
Erik repeated what he'd told Milton. He added, "I never bring home strays. She is a friend of mine who was being abused terribly and I couldn't let her remain where she was."
"Of course, Monsieur. The girls and I will see that she is taken care of. I don't know how she is going to respond to taking a bath and if she has lice, she must be shaved. It is the only way not to infect the entire house hold." Stella announced.
"Do what you must. There isn't a chance that she will cooperate, so just do what you have to." Erik agreed.
"Shouldn't she be in an institution for the insane?" Milton finally found his voice.
"Absolutely not!" Erik said with authority. "Those places are dreadful. She is harmless and doesn't need to be locked up!"
"How are we to care for her? How will she occupy herself during the day? Does she have a family?" Milton was looking a bit flustered.
"I am her family." Erik said. His words probably had more effect on him than Milton, but the butler nodded his head as though it was settled.
"Milton, I need a brandy!" Erik said after Stella and Darcy gently coaxed the keening Patsy upstairs. To drown out the terrified cries of Patsy as she was scrubbed and shaved by Stella and Darcy, Erik found some alleviation for his nerves at the ornate baby grand piano. It was in a room, more or less an extension of the main hall. Only the stairway separated it into two areas. The piano was the main feature of the room. There were three sets of glass French doors that opened out on to a large terrace, overlooking the gardens at the back of the house. Two settees and a couple of chairs were the only other furniture. It was obviously a room meant for parties and balls. For now, the piano rang out in peaceful cadences.
In time, Patsy was subdued and given something to eat and warm milk to drink. She was put in one of the bedrooms upstairs and the household settled down for the night just after the stroke of midnight.
There had been a time when Erik would not have been able to sleep in a house with so many other people, but after the events of the evening, he was only too willing to close himself behind the locked door of his bedroom. The storm outside raged. Lightening and thunder shook the earth with it's fierce intensity, but Erik slept implicitly.
The next morning, he woke confused by the strange surroundings. Light peeked through the drawn curtains the best it could. Erik rose and opened the curtains. The sun was shining in unabashed glory. He blinked and closed the drapes. Sunlight could be cruel.
Stella was there to greet him when he walked downstairs. "Good morning, Monsieur. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, actually, I did." Erik smiled at her. It was the least he could do after she'd come through for him and Pasty. She seemed to be a sensible person and he was still in shock that she did not recoil from him. "How is everyone else this morning, including yourself?"
"I am well, thank you. Patsy is still in her room. She does not want to come out. She has had her breakfast and she is resting again. She seems exhausted. Milton had gone with Garrick as you instructed him and we expected him to return before lunch. We have saved breakfast for you. Do you wish for tea or coffee?"
"Coffee. Thank you, Stella, for what you did for Patsy last night. I admit, I don't know how it is going to work out, but I couldn't leave her in the street. If she becomes too much a burden, I will find another place for her." Erik promised.
"You said, she was your family. We are here to serve your family. It is what you pay us to do. If we are unable to care for her, then I will let you know. She seems to be a fragile little thing, hardly a bother at all. We hardly see the marchioness any more. But, she writes us that she will be returning soon."
"How soon?" Erik wanted to know. If there was anyway that he could be gone before his grandmother arrived he would do it.
"This week perhaps." Stella responded.
He was finishing his breakfast when Stella handed him a small stack of envelopes. "These are addressed to you. We often get invitations addressed to the Marquis de Leon. They may or may not interest you but I though I would let you decide." She said and left him to read them. The largest caught his attention. Inside, he found an invitation to the engagement party for Margaret Giry and Biagio Delvoix. The party was to be held tomorrow evening at eight o'clock.