Chapter Forty One: Pandora's Tear (alternately titled 'In a Box, With a Fox' or 'Foxes and Boxes')

Leah

Tears threatened me for the first time in months.

I fought valiantly to block them, calling upon every reserve of strength that I possessed as I neared the grand foyer. Why on earth had I opened that silly box?

In my minds eye, I could still see every sparkling facet. The contents of the little chest had dredged up emotions that I had believed to be dead and buried for what seemed like ages.

"Most girls would be elated by so many jewels!" I chided myself in a silent, hollow voice. Each member of my family had purchased jewelry for me, and tiny notes had accompanied the baubles. They had been carefully wrapped and situated inside the silk-lined jewelry box.

There were enough gems in that little case to outfit any respectable woman of society for the rest of her life: a silver ring, several pairs of modest earrings, four delicate brooches, and serviceable set of jet-black mourning pieces. There were several strands of precious gems that I recognized as accessories for my hair, each string a different color. Every one was made of tiny stones and gold or silver links, brilliant with red rubies, blue sapphires, green emeralds, violet amethysts, or fiery opals, my favorite.

I began to open the creamy paper of the tiny packages that were attached to notes. Abuelo had given me a pair of scarab pendants, and he hoped in his choppy handwriting that I would enjoy them, considering how much I loved Egyptian history.

Henry's gift was an ivory bracelet, carved with wild, thorny roses. He wrote to say that he thought of me when he saw the bracelet, and that even the prickliest of flowers (or girls) can still be pretty. If I had not been in such a state of shock, I would have laughed at his uncanny ability to poke fun at me under any circumstance.

Abuela had sent me a delicate strand of pearls, saying that she knew I would grow into them as I became a lady. Each item failed to invoke the desired response in my heart, for though the jewelry had been meant to bring me joy, it only reminded me of all that I had lost. Mama's gift was the hardest to bear.

Her note was the largest by far, but at this point I was far too emotional to touch it. Anger, hurt, loss, and betrayal danced disturbingly in my gut. Had they thought that I would forgive them for leaving if they gave me a few pretty things? Damn my foolish curiosity! Even now, after all the pain within my heart, I still couldn't help but open her gift. As the paper fell away, an upsetting breath became caught in my tight throat.

She had given me a precious piece of my dowry, something that I had never expected to follow me after I left the house. I had only seen it once, but I remembered it well. She had once told me that the diamond necklace would be mine to wear on my wedding day.

It was a simple setting, as jewelry goes, but impressive and delicate. A flawless, tear-shaped diamond, nearly the size of my thumb, hung suspended from a fragile gold chain. As it lay there in its little velvet box, my throat began to constrict and tears finally began to form in my dry, confused eyes.

I regretted ever having remembered the jewelry box. Why had I opened this tonight?

Summoning my cold strength, I closed the lid and closed off my heart as I returned the distressing artifact to the bowels of my chest of drawers. I would not allow this relic from my old life interfere with the here and now.

I continued to tell myself this all the way to my destination.

As I skirted the flurry of movement and music in the grand foyer, I steeled myself against any more emotion tonight. I would be strong and struggle though dancing just long enough to appear polite, and then I would scuttle back to the safety of my little cellar. I only hoped my mysterious admirer wouldn't think me terribly rude.

But nearing the Lunar Sala, my dark and troubled thoughts were slightly dimmed by my inquisitive imagination. Familiar and mildly less distressing questions arose within me. Who was this man? Why could he possibly be interested in me? Did he have less than honorable intentions? Or did he truly find me attractive and wish to see me?

My heart began to pick up speed with every step closer to this meeting. By the time I entered the fashionably decorated room, it was banging a steady tattoo on my ribcage in an effort to escape my body all together.

But when I saw him, everything simply stood still.

Eric

"She seems to believe me." I reflected as we glided over the polished floor.

At first, the girl seemed shy and hesitant around me. As soon as I saw her, I had approached and asked her to dance, drawing upon several late nights of studying etiquette manuals for what must have passed as suave charm. But much to my chagrin, she did not extend her gloved hand. Instead, she had stood stock still for several seconds before bursting out her thoughts.

"My apologies Señor, but I do not even know your name! Twould be indecent."

I stiffened at her innocent request. She could not know my name! Every one in my life who had ever gained that secret had eventually found me useless and left. She could not leave! She was my chance to prove to myself that I was a human being. I deserved love, like anyone else!

How to answer, how to answer? I summoned up every ounce of my newly acquired 'gentleman's manners', and took a bit of confidence in my new apparel. I had soften the managers to the point where they were willing to provide me with a handsome little salary, and I had used my first allowance to make myself desirable as a nobleman. Luxurious black and white evening attire had done the trick tonight. I made a rather dashing figure for the first time in my life … if one could forget what lay beneath the mask, that is.

"She doesn't know Eric. She doesn't have an inkling." I attempted to silently calm myself. The voices mocked me and jeered my attempts to think, but I ignored them the best I could. "Just find something to say before she dies of boredom, you great dolt!"

With my most charming smile, (for I had worn the only mask I had that just barely exposed my lips. They were the most tolerable feature on my God forsaken excuse for a face, and I had wanted to be unhindered while speaking to her.) I replied.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but I am afraid I cannot grace your enchanting lips with any name."

She seemed a bit taken a back by this, and then a bit perturbed. Oh, what had I been thinking when I began this whole mess?

"Might I inquire as to why, good Monsieur?" Her voice was laced with a hint of sharpness, and inwardly I cringed.

"You may. And I shall then respond to your inquiry thusly: There is more than one reason for a man to wear a mask." I whispered the last phrase softly, bending very near to her. It was an uncouth invasion of her privacy as we were nearly strangers, but I knew that my voice could effect people's emotions.

And perhaps my message was cryptic enough to satisfy her sense of propriety. If I had any hope that God would listen, I would have been reciting every prayer I knew. This had to work! She had to grow to care for me. This could not end before we had even said hello! All my plans and schemes would be for naught if I had no hope of ever finding a companion. Life was far too painful to navigate by myself.

"Are you a man in hiding then Señor?" I nearly jumped as she startled me from my thoughts. What was she talking about? Did she know that I …? "Perhaps a masked bandit or royalty in disguise?"

She was smiling. Had she found something amusing? It took a few nervous moments for me to grasp that she was being playful. My heart swelled with relief as she continued to joke. "No? Then perhaps you are El Zorro under that black mask?"

"I will neither dismiss nor confirm your suspicions, Mademoiselle." I returned her light-hearted tone. If she felt comfortable enough to make foolish conversation in my presence, then I had already won a small battle.

All at once, her smiling face turned thoughtful and searching. "I take it that you have your own reasons for remaining anonymous, Señor. I am willing to respect that, should you not wish to give me your name."

Hadn't she just been insistent on learning it? I could only hope that all women were not this confusing. It was a disconcerting thought, for this was the first time that I had ever actively perused a woman. That is, unless you included Mitra.

Mitra… With a slight shake of my head, I expelled such thoughts from my mind. "She is dead, Eric. Now there is a living, breathing girl in front of you. Think of her, you blithering nincompoop!" The voices added several insults of their own before her voice chased them back into the darker corners of my mind.

"But I must ask you what you should like to be addressed as." She piped up. "You had said in your letter that you hoped to make better acquaintances, and I cannot continue to simply call you 'Monsieur' if you wish to see me again." Apparently she found this humorous as well, for the corners of her mouth began to curl up, and the corners of her eyes to crinkle.

"Earlier, you addressed me as Señor. That will do nicely." She was obviously a bit frustrated, and I quickly sought out a distraction for her. I applied for her hand a second time and was rewarded with a charming smile.

We waited only moments before the current dance ended and a new one began, joining the crowd that gathered on the dance floor. It was a bit nerve wreaking to be in the midst of such a massive number of people, but my focus was fixed on a pair of bold grey eyes that peeked up at me demurely from underneath dark eyelashes. They made a startling contrast to her uncommon olive skin and black hair.

The girl wasn't terribly unattractive, I admitted to myself as the dance began. And those eyes still held a bit of mystery for me, sharp and twinkling with merriment as we began to grow a bit more accustomed to one another. Still, it took several dances to get that far.

But her little hand on my upper arm was not an unwelcome sensation, and I enjoyed several thoughts that were unbecoming of my new manners while feeling the movement of her small waist under my gloved hand. She was a fair dancer as well.

True, she was by no means a woman to fall in love with, but I definitely could have found a less pleasing creature on which to perfect my wiles. Perhaps it wouldn't take as long as I had thought to conclude my little experiment and move on to better and brighter horizons.

At least she had a little intelligence. She seemed well versed, and we even went so far as to discuss philosophy and politics while sipping champagne and resting on one of the empty balconies of the opera house. I had fabricated a mildly plausible excuse for my presence in the attic that night, and she actually seemed to accept the story. Our conversation had been going swimmingly, until she removed her mask.

"Señor, will you not also take off your mask? I must admit, I am rather curious to see the face of the daring vigilante that I have been dancing with." A spark of humor glittered in her expression, but I was momentarily dumb with horror. What could I do?

"Regretfully, Mademoiselle Iglesias, I cannot." An annoyed frown began to find its way to her lips. "In truth, you were correct with one of your earlier suppositions. I am indeed a man in hiding, and I would be obliged if you would refrain from mentioning it."

"Truly? Well, now I am more intrigued than ever. Wouldn't you please let me see you? Only for a moment?" She pleaded.

My temper began to rise, and the voices incited me to strike out or to flee at once, but I held my ground as best I could. "I am quite serious, Mademoiselle. Removing my mask would make you much akin to psyche and her box of death." I spoke gravely, without a hint of merriment as she searched my eyes with her own. They were like bores into my skull.

"Don't you mean Pandora, Señor?" Good! She had forgotten her whim about removing the mask.

"No, those are two different myths, Mademoiselle."

"Perhaps you are right." She gave me a small, self-depreciating smile. "It has been a few months since I have burrowed into Greek mythology. Perhaps I shall have to…"

Her gaze was fixed over my shoulder and her small mouth hung slightly agape. "Is something wrong?" I strained to discover the source of her shock. There were only dancing couples, for as far as the eye could see. Wait! That was it!

I was a bit surprised myself, for I had not really believed that my plan would come off so well. It had taken some careful maneuvering, but I had managed to 'persuade' that Comte she had been seeing to attend tonight with another dancer.

To be honest, little persuasion had been necessary. 'La Sorelli', as she so presumptuously titled herself, threatened to take the place of the current prima ballerina within a few years, if not a few months. Half of Paris had made eyes at her at one point or another.

But even though I had finally paired those two off, it had been a slim chance that my little 'experiment' would see them in such a crowd. Now she would be completely free of any bonds besides my own. Lady luck had taken my side for a change. I expected to turn to an emotional wreck of a girl and provide a convenient and comforting shoulder.

But surprisingly, Mille Iglesias merely appeared a bit flustered and a rather determined.

She had rejoined me on the dance floor with burning eyes that seemed to be carved from icicles. She had determination, I had to allow. She flung herself into the dancing and didn't leave my side for the rest of the evening. It crossed my mind that her behavior was very impolite.

Then again, I wasn't complaining.

Authoress's Notes: Zorro, the masked bandit, was named for the animal called el zorro in Spanish. Give you a hint, its red and furry. In Victorian society, it was extremely rude to dance more than one or two dances with the person you were attending the dance with, unless the two of you were engaged. Even married couples were held to this funky rule. Weird, huh?

I hope I did justice to the first REAL meeting?

Homeless: Yeah, I kinda figured it was the naked. No real reason… hehe. I dunno, I may just end up putting something in here about him streaking around the lair, just so we can all have our odd little kicks at his expense. Poor Eric, voices in his head and a nutty authoress controlling his reality. Please cease to simmer … or don't…

Kipper: Cackles evilly. Yes, yes I am. But I'll do anything to avoid fish scales. (I've cleaned fish before, and let me tell you, I have no urge to do so again any time in the near future.) So here's the chap, hope you like it. Now get off of me ship, or I'll swab the deck with thee! (She may be taking this pirate thing a little too seriously...)

Fish: All my gratitude for the helpful edits, I shall rewrite that ASAP. As for the teaching gig, CELEBRATION! I wish I could send you real cheesecake to congratulate you. Unfortunately, this won't work, so cyber hugs in abundance. I am so very happy for you! & Thanks for the help with Carmen.

Avid: I am blushing like mad, dear. You have made my day, cause that was just the kind of vocab. I was hoping would come across in this story. As for everybody's favorite 'Fox', his is a surprising little dude, ain't he?

JPT: This is true, no freezers… then again, they did have ice cream parlours… Can't you just imagine a certain morbidly handsome figure sitting at the counter of an ice cream parlor and sipping on a root beer float? Ha! Hilarity abounds!