I just couldn't resist writing this next chapter, but it will HAVE to be the last one until the 16th.
4 papers down 11 more to go...sigh...The price you pay for an education!
So please reward my lack of self-control andreview!
Oh...I just wanted to ask if there was anyone out there who is proficient in French? I do not atually know much French apart from what I had picked up from my cousins and bits and pieces from books, so it would be tres merveilleux if someone could correct any mistakes I had made in the former chapters and this one. Thanks so much. Sorry for the imposition!

Chapter Five

Behind unusually expressionless deep brown eyes, which looked closer to black due to very fair skin, Frederic was silently amused as he remembered the various anguished and thoroughly disgusted faces that little Erik had pulled whilst he had dabbed his own special medicinal blend of oils onto the child's head. The healing properties of tea tree oil, lavender and various other oils had not impressed the boy and if he had not been a child used to instant brutal punishments for slight disobedience, Frederic was sure that Erik would have complained long and loudly. The soul of a true hedonist cowered in that boy.

He had ordered a cot to be placed in his rooms for the child and ordered Erik upstairs to rest. However, Frederic had another motive other than wanting the petit enfant to convalesce for awhile; he was going to perform a deed which he found absolutely distasteful: he was going to poke his nose into someone else's family affairs.

Outwardly calm, Frederic rolled his eyes sky-wards and muttered a quick prayer to boost his decision. Continuing his languid stroll, the young monsieur looked like a typical member of the higher classes: supercilious and the epitome of world-weary ennui. His well-cut coat and breeches hung elegantly on his slight frame, but his brown hair was tied unfashionably into a straight queue; the rakishly tilted hat saved him from being shunned by his more fashion-conscious peers. Frederic Fournier looked quite out of place in a small and very provincial country village: a somewhat small falcon in the midst of sparrows.

Arriving at his destination, he knocked on the door and presented his card to a young maid, requesting to see the Maire or Madame le Roux. The prettily plump maid winked at him slyly and led him to the Master's study without bothering with permission. Knocking on the door, Frederic sauntered in and apologised for his uninvited intrusion. The mayor looked up and took inventory of the young gentleman's expertly cut clothes that put to shame anything he owned and jovially invited Frederic to join him for a little cognac, all the while enviously coveting the gleaming boots, gorgeously embroidered waistcoat and obviously expensive coat. Frederic nodded slightly in acceptance and Etienne le Roux noted superiorly that his hair was obviously, by far, more au courant than his new rival's. Why the boy's hair had nary a curl in it, while his hair had been gorgeously teased into fat and tight sausage curls at the side of each temple! Feeling much more in charity with his obviously not-so-worthy rival, he happily patted his painstakingly arranged coiffure and decided to assist this clearly unfortunate young man.

Frederic sampled his cognac carefully as he watched his host take hearty gulps of the inferior spirits. He studied the podgy mayor carefully and wondered how he should best approach the subject. Putting down his glass with a slight snap, he gathered his determination and decided to plunge straight into it. Looking straight at the Mayor for the first time, Frederic opened his mouth and exclaimed:

"Le bon Dieu! Your hair!" staring in shock at the frizzy clumps which puffed out astoundingly out at each side of the Maire's round head. Frederic nearly bit his tongue in annoyance of its unruliness as he knew that he had committed a grave faux pas, as one did not insult one's host, especially when their compliance was needed. He was just about to stammer out an apology when the mayor interrupted him.

"Ah…You have noticed my beautiful hair," patting his oily tresses delightedly, le Roux beamed at the dumbstruck Frederic who smiled back rather shakily at the oblivious man. "I don't normally do this…No, in fact, I have NEVER done so, but I shall share with you my secret for creating glorious curls such as mine. I only do this as I believe that men of fashion of our calibre must help each other to reach perfection!" The rotund little man paused and smiled slyly.

"You might have guessed that my secret is my pomade. Ah…but the true secret is what is in my special pomade. No one knows; not even my valet. I have never trusted anyone with this secret, so you are undergoing a great honour." He looked around the room cautiously and decided that there were no spies present wanting to steal his precious recipe. Still, he lowered his voice just in case that bricole, Claude Bernard, was lurking around somewhere; that villain had been trying to steal his formula for years!

In a whisper, he told Frederic "The special ingredient is egg whites. But not just any egg whites…You must get the egg whites of duck eggs and the egg must only be a light cream colour. If not you will never achieve such a spectacular result as mine." He smiled complacently and suddenly a look of horror came unto his face. "Under no circumstances use poulet eggs! You will not be at all successful in shaping your curls."

"Mer…merci, Monsieur le Maire. I am grateful for your trust. I shall carry the secret of your formula to my grave," said Frederic, just managing to keep a straight face. "And I promise to never use chicken eggs in my hair."

"Good man, good man. Now what can I do for you today? I do not think that my hair pomade is that well-known as I have tried to keep it a secret as much as I can. Was there something else that you came to see me for?"

"Oui, monsieur. The hair pomade was an unexpected honour, I would never have dreamed to have gained such privilege, to receive such a treasure. I am undone. I feel I cannot speak to you about what had disturbed me. You have done so much already."

The mayor waved away Frederic's effusive thanks with the air of royalty, clearly delighted with him. Frederic smiled inwardly, feeling slightly sorry that he was fooling the man, but clearly this was the best way to gain his assistance for le petite Erik; he needed to appeal to the Mayor's pride and vanity. After assuring Frederic that he would do all in his power to aid him and motioning for him to continue, Etienne settled himself comfortably in his chair and reached again for his cognac.

"Well, today I was extremely disturbed when I saw a young boy being horribly abused by a large woman and my delicate sensibilities as a gentleman could not stand to see such horror that I intruded. I'm sure a gentleman such as you can understand my motivations. As you have mentioned, we are men of similar calibre." The mayor beamed at him and agreed quickly.

"I came to you as I had found out that you were the most powerful man in the village and I was sure that you are the type of gentleman that protects all those under his rule, even those, non, especially those who cannot protect themselves. You were merely unaware of that such an atrocity was occurring."

"Oui!" The mayor banging a fist against the arm of his chair, "I shall not let this act go unpunished! I shall protect this innocent child from that horrible woman!"

"Ah, merveilleux! I knew that I could depend on you! My faith in you has been rewarded. I am sure your resolution to do the right thing could only be strengthened when I tell you that the child in question is apparently your step-son, Erik."

A look of pure horror swept across the mayor's face and he opened his mouth to protest.