Keep on writing, keep on writing, keep on writing . . .
If you are reading this chapter after having gone through the last three, I warmly shake you by the hand. Now, let's try to make things really interesting . . . yeah, that's gonna happen (smacks forehead against desk).
Thank you, Charity and Mominator, for your reviews. Yes, Erik and Christine are kind of OOC in this story, but I'm trying to make them and their counterparts as similar to each other as possible. Also consider this: Erik (according to Leroux) loved Christine so much that he would have been willing to live in the outside world for her. He also wanted to be "like everyone else." Now, while the Erik in this story did not undergo the same experiences as the original one did, they both share the same personal essence. Also, if you read "P&P," you can sort of see that Mr. Bennett is not a very outgoing man himself. But he is a gentleman, and he has been instilled with the duty to be sociable at least once in a while. The rest of the time he prefers to stay at home. If Erik had not been born with his disfigurement, I wouldn't be surprised if he had turned out to be very much like Mr. Bennett with his sarcastic sense of humor and natural preference to not go out in public very much.
It's harder to defend Christine, since Mrs. Bennett's persona is very overpowering. So I know I have to work on her a little. You have to consider, however, that after being married for over twenty years with five grown children, Christine and Erik are not going to be the very same people they were when they got married. Especially Christine, since she was only twenty at the time and she has had to grow into the world more.
Oh, and this version is a combination of the new movie, the A&E/BBC miniseries, and a little of the book itself. Well, that's enough explaining for now. Let's just get to the bloody story.
Readers: FINALLY!
Disclaimer: Go back to the prologue. Then read this chapter.
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Lottie collapsed into a chair and brushed her strawberry-blonde curls out of her face. "What a night! Whew, I've never been so exhausted in my life!"
"No wonder," noted Madeleine. "You and Rose danced every dance."
"And you none!" Lottie laughed in return.
"Oh, it was quite an evening," said Christine as she entered the sitting room. "Was not Mr. Trevor the most agreeable man you've ever met in your life?"
"Yes, yes," said Erik, answering his wife's question for the hundredth time.
"And he has 30,000 a year!"
"I know."
"And Charlotte was so admired by him! He danced with her for nearly the whole evening!"
"I know, my dear. I was there, remember?"
"Well, how can you blame me? You have this constant habit of disappearing once we get there. I do wish you talk with our friends more."
"If I could have it my way, I won't even be attending these bloody balls! I knew, however, that you and the girls were very eager to meet Mr. Trevor, so I did my duty. Now may we please drop the subject for tonight?"
Erik swiped a book he had been reading earlier that day and tried to continue with it. Christine, however, was far from being satisfied.
"Oh, Erik, you're always so sour whenever we get back from a ball. Perhaps you shouldn't go to these things anymore."
The only reply was a quiet groan and a roll of the eyes. Angelique did her best to repress her laughter. Being too excited to stop talking about what had happened, Christine gathered the girls in a circle to make their conversation more intimate so Erik would not be as bothered by them.
"Anyway, I think, Charlotte, that Mr. Trevor is the man for you. There is no doubt about it."
"Can you be so sure?" asked Charlotte nervously.
"Of course we can," smiled Angelique. "He danced with you for most of the night and stared at you for the rest."
The mother and girls giggled. Erik shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"I was a little vexed that he danced with Adele just after dancing with you, but sure enough nothing else would satisfy him but to stand up with you again!"
Charlotte began to blush. "Mama . . ."
"And then he danced with Angel, did he not?" asked Rose, trying to have her share of the conversation.
"Oh yes," said Christine, "and then, who do you think he danced with next?"
"Enough!" cried Erik. "Enough, madam, for God's sake, let's hear no more about his partners! If he knew what I would have to hear, he would have sprained his ankle in the first dance!"
"Oh, and his cousins!" cried Christine, still looking at the girls and ignoring Erik's statement. "They were so charming and elegant and obliging. Do you not remember them Charlotte? And you, Angel? Oh, right, you only met them for a moment. But Charlotte and I had a lovely conversation with Miss Irene Adler. She is the epitome of feminine fashion. And really, the lace on Mrs. Musgrave's gown—"
"No lace," said Erik, pointing a warning finger at her. "No lace, Christine, I beg you."
"But not all of his company was so pleasing," noted Rose.
Christine's mood immediately changed from excitement to resentment. "Oh yes, the so-called Mr. Holmes. Did you not hear about him slighting poor Angel? He refused to stand up with her! Well, he may be the richest man in Yorkshire, but he is certainly not worth our concern."
For the first time that evening Erik was actually drawn into the conversation. "He slighted my Angel, did he?" He looked over at her to see what her reaction was. She turned to him and gave him a playful smile.
"I didn't care for him either, Papa, so it is of little matter."
"If I were in your place," said her mother, "I would not dance with him at all, even if he did ask you."
Angel laughed. "I think, Mama, I can assure you that I will never dance with Mr. Holmes."
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"So, none of the Normandy girls could capture your interest, Mr. Holmes?" questioned Miss Adler as she picked up her cup of tea the next morning. She took her place at the breakfast table between Trevor and Mrs. Musgrave.
"Not even the famous Miss Noirs?" put in the other lady.
Holmes made no answer. He made himself appear to be too engrossed in the morning paper to think of such a trifling thing. Miss Adler, however, had no doubt in her mind that he was listening to them very carefully. She enjoyed trying to get Holmes' goat, especially when he was in one of his particularly grim moods.
Sensing what his cousin was trying to do, Trevor got up from the table and began pacing around the room in his normal cheery manner. "Well, I don't believe I have ever been with such pretty girls in my entire life."
Holmes looked up at his friend. "Trevor, you astonish me. Among all of those women, I could find little beauty and no breeding at all." In truth, he did not take the whole "breeding" concept to heart, but the note was enough to make his point: Trevor was in too much of a rush to accept these people as sufficient company for everyday life. It was simply ridiculous to jump to such assumptions. Then Holmes added, "The eldest Miss Noir is, I grant you, quite pretty."
"A fine concession," said Trevor, speaking in a half-sarcastic tone for the first time since their arrival. "Come man, admit that she is an angel!"
Holmes smirked and shook his head. "I will say nothing of the sort. Besides, she smiles too much."
"Oh, I must admit, Charlotte Noir is a sweet girl," said Miss Adler, adapting a tone of genuine warmth, which was a rare thing for her. "But the mother . . ."
Trevor sighed. Yes, the mother. Even he could not ignore that fact.
Then another interesting thought came to Miss Adler's mind. She turned to Mrs. Musgrave. "I heard Miss Angela Noir being described as a famous local beauty. What do you say to that, Mr. Holmes?"
Holmes kept his eyes on his paper and his cup near his mouth as he answered. "I would as soon call her mother a wit."
Miss Adler and Mrs. Musgrave burst out laughing. "Really, Mr. Holmes!" cried the former. "That is too cruel!"
Trevor shook his head as he walked past Holmes in the midst of his pacing. "Holmes, I don't think I will ever understand why you insist on being displeased with everything and everyone you meet in society."
Holmes looked up at Trevor, another smirk beginning to form on his lips. "And I will never understand why you are in such a rage to approve of everything and everyone that you meet."
Trevor could only sigh again at his friend's conjectures. There was simply no changing him. "Well, one thing is for sure: you cannot make me think ill of Miss Noir."
"Indeed, he cannot," concurred Miss Adler. "I dare to disagree with him and declare that she is a very dear, sweet girl, despite of her unfortunate connections, I shall not be sorry to know her better."
"Nor I!" declared Mrs. Musgrave.
Holmes looked at the two women again and grinned. He permitted them to play their little game. He predicted it would not be long before they tired of it. Wealthy women often grew bored and were prepared to tackle any trifle to save them from ennui.
He shook his head slightly. That sounded all too familiar.
"As you can see, Mr. Holmes," said Miss Adler in her own sly tone, "we are not afraid of you."
"I would not have you so," he replied before looking at the paper once more.
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"He's everything a young man ought to be, Angel," sighed Charlotte as she began plucking the pedals of a small field flower. "He's sensible, he's lively, and he has the happy manners of no one I have ever met or seen."
"He's handsome, too," noted Angelique, "which a young man ought to be if he possibly can." She too was working on a flower at the moment, seeing how many times she could peel the stem until it was too thin to peel anymore. A dozen threads of stem fibers littered her lap.
"And he seems to like you very much, which shows good judgment. No, I give you leave to like him. You've liked many stupider a person. I only wish he were better situated in his choice of relatives and friends. . . . although I suppose he cannot help his cousins."
"You mean you didn't like them?" said Charlotte. "I suppose they were a little imposing at first, but they are very pleasing once you get used to them."
"I cannot share such warm feelings for them, I'm afraid," said Angelique. "While I do not wish for my opinion of them to influence yours, I must say that their congenial manners can only go so deep. One can just see in their manner of expression and movement that they believe in their superiority over those around them who are not of their class and fortune. I almost hope to be proven wrong, but only time can tell in such cases."
"Well, I believe they will make very charming neighbors," said Charlotte. She stood up to brush off the pedals and stems from her dress and began to walk towards the main entrance of the house. Angelique quickly followed her.
"I still think that Mr. Trevor is very well suited for you," said Angel. "You should merely be on your guard when it comes to the other members of that household."
"Oh, Angel, I'm sure you mean well. But I'm almost as nearly sure that you are wrong. Who knows? Maybe Mr. Holmes will improve on close acquaintance as well."
Angel stared at her with overly-exaggerated shock. "What! You think he will ever chose to give consequence to ladies who are slighted by other men? Never!"
Charlotte laughed at her dramatic display. "I know, it was still very wrong of him to speak so."
Angel returned to her normal self and shrugged. "That's quite true, although not in the way you may think. Normally I might have been able to forgive him of his pride and vanity, had he not decided to injure mine. In any case, we may have the good fortune of never speaking to him again. Oh, look, there's Adele by the gate! Quick, let's let her in!"
The two girls ran up to the gate and opened it for their friend. "Angel! Charlotte!" cried Adele. "We're having a party at le Loge de Castelot, and you are all invited!"
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Although the party was more exclusive in its choice of company (the closer friends of the Castelot-Barbezacs), and therefore less people were expected to attend, there was still room for a new form of company to join the social circle of gentry in Rouen. Among these guests were Colonel and Madame Dubois, the colonel being the head of the 19th regiment of the French army, which had just arrived in Normandy.
Madeleine was playing at the piano (as usual) while the rest of the sisters were around and about talking to various people. Rose and Lottie were keeping their attention on the officers who were attending the party along with Colonel Dubois. After all, what other men in the world could surpass the gallantry of a soldier? Besides, men always looked better when they wore regimentals.
Christine could not stop talking about Mr. Trevor and how he admired Charlotte so much, constantly going on and on and on. Meg de Castelot-Barbezac and Angelique decided it would be best to change the subject.
"And how are you enjoying your stay in Rouen?" asked the Baroness, cutting Christine a little short in the process.
"Very well, madame," said Colonel Dubois, his speech, like his dress, neat and smart. "And even more so this evening. My officers have been much deprived of society and find great comfort in your welcome."
"I'm sure your officers will be very pleased by their visit," said Angelique. Just then two young officers, along with Lottie and Rose (of course), began to laugh heartily at some humorous statement.
"Henri and Jules seemed to be well pleased," noted Madame Dubois.
In the meantime, the Baron de Castelot-Barbezac was busy becoming better acquainted with Miss Alder and Mrs. Musgrave. Mr. Musgrave had retired to some other room and Holmes was momentarily engaged in his own musings. This gave the Baron ample opportunity to speak to the ladies without them finding some way to escape the conversation. He was as good a gentleman as the next man, but his offers to introduce them at the King's court and any other elite social circles made the two women find him irritating. Miss Adler, barely capable of restraining herself, said coolly, "You are too kind, sir," curtsied, and excused both herself and her cousin.
Thinking he had gained favor rather than resentment, the Baron walked off in a cheery manner saying, "Capital!" to everyone. When he was far away enough, Irene and Mrs. Musgrave let out huge, yet quiet, sighs of relief.
"Insufferable conceit," Irene muttered. "To imagine that we would need his assistance in society."
Mrs. Musgrave smiled and patted her friend's shoulder. "I'm sure he is a good man, Irene."
The single lady laughed. "And I'm sure he kept a good little shop before receiving his 'title.'" She chuckled at her own little joke, then turned to glance over at Holmes. Knowing him, she could hardly imagine the anguish his mind was undergoing at that moment. Such pains seemed so ridiculous for any of them, yet as long as Mr. Trevor wished to keep house at Sherriford, they were forced to accommodate for the time being.
"Poor Holmes," she thought to herself, but not without a touch of laughter. "What agonies he must be suffering."
Holmes was not, however, trapped in the state of torture and boredom Irene had expected him to be in. For most of day and into the evening, Holmes had been thinking over the night at the ball. He recalled the large mass of people he saw when his party first entered that hall. It made his stomach turn from uneasiness. He dearly wished he would not have to spend all evening trying become acquainted with every single person in the room, for he knew that would be his friend's disposition. He found himself, however, genuinely surprised. Almost as soon as they had begun to process down the center of the hall, his eyes had fallen upon someone. It just so happened that her eyes fell upon him at the same time. It had been purely coincidental, of course, and could carry no merit upon what would pass between himself and the person he had seen later on.
She was not a particularly remarkable thing to look at. She had her share of beauty, but there were certainly others whose beauty deserved much more notice than hers. The one thing, however, that he could not dismiss from his memory were her eyes. He had been so surprised by them without knowing why. He had only looked at them for a moment, and yet they had already affected him. He could not even remember from that moment what color they were, but they must have been something unusual to stand out so strongly in his mind.
He removed the girl from his thoughts for the moment and focused on everything else as the group continued and finished its walk. Then the ball resumed again. Several people had approached Trevor and talked to him with great vigor. Holmes managed to keep himself at enough of a distance so as to be overshadowed by the incandescent enthusiasm of his friend. It suited him very well for a while, until the Noir family was introduced. He immediately found the mother irritating, with her over-eager manner to introduce all of her daughters to the country squire. The father seemed all right, although he had a darkening presence, perhaps due to the fact that he was so incredibly tall and blocked out a great deal of light. The mask was unsettling as well.
He had chanced a quick glimpse at the eldest daughter when he heard Trevor ask her to dance. She was, indeed, a very handsome girl, although the family resemblance between her and her mother was even more unsettling than her father's mask. But he soon could see that she was not as extroverted and gossiping as her identical parent. This last fact was only added after Trevor had spent more time with Miss Noir.
As he listened, Holmes was ready for the family to move on before someone else chose to approach them. Suddenly, he heard someone addressing him. He whirled around and realized it was the same girl he had seen earlier. He also realized that she was asking him if he also cared to dance.
Holmes could not blame himself for his reaction. She had caught him completely off guard. The honest truth was all that came to mind in that short moment, so that was what he delivered. He could see that she was somewhat shaken by this, though not deeply upset. Deciding that it would be best to go and find another lonely spot to think in, he had turned and walked away before the young woman could say anything.
He struggled to recall what her name was. Her mother had said it not a moment before. A part of himself questioned why he even cared, but the other part was still curious all the same. At least if he happened to encounter her again, he would think of her in his mind by her proper name rather than as the woman whose eyes had startled him and to whom he said, "No, thank you, I don't dance."
Trevor had eventually tracked him down and professed his displeasure at his friend's unsociable manner. By then the incident had past long enough ago that Holmes was no longer concerned. And then she was there again. It was Trevor who had noticed her, sitting in that little corner, staring at the crowd of revelers. Holmes was perplexed at how she kept popping up everywhere he went. When Trevor suggested that he select her as a dancing partner, he very promptly turned the offer down. That was the last thing he was interested in doing. Having encountered her twice under awkward circumstances already was quite enough for him. He did not need a third incident.
The next and last meeting between the two of them that night was the most memorable one for him. Holmes had been roaming through the crowd, trying to take in as much as his large mind would permit. He could learn a great deal about anyone just by eying over their attire and examining the wear of their shoes. It was somewhat of a shame that he could not be a full-time consulting detective. He knew that he would eventually have to give it up entirely. But for now, he managed to balance things out between his desired profession and his inheritance.
Then he spotted her again. Now he believed he had her name. Angelique Noir, right? Yes, that sounded right. She was with her mother and sister Charlotte again as well as Trevor. He quickly looked over her once more to see what he could make of her. He already acknowledged that she was by no means the most beautiful woman in the room. Yet, as he looked at her, he began to see something else of her that he had never observed in anyone else before. His attention was once more drawn to her eyes. They were the strangest combination of light and shadow, of brown, green, and brilliant gold streaks. He could tell that she was very used to using her eyes as a form of expression – a tendency for those who are trained in performing. There seemed to be so much more, though, such depth that could not be fathomed by mere distant observation. This source of expression branched from the central enigmatic orbs and somehow seeped its way into every part of her body, manifesting itself in every movement and gesture that she made. Through this her physical beauty accumulated to a new degree. There was a strong mark of intelligence and understanding, but also a mark of playfulness and vivacity to complement it. The more he looked on, the more inclined Holmes became in his desire to know her better. And the stronger this inclination grew, the more he moved closer and closer to the group.
He had just managed to catch the end of what Mrs. Noir said about love letters when he entered the ring. Angelique made her comment about the dooming of love through poetry. Not letting himself waste a moment, he questioned her statement. When she gave her unexpected yet understandable answer, he asked her again what she would suggest as a replacement.
"Dancing, even if the partner in question is barely tolerable."
The last remark struck him like an arrow. He made himself appear unaffected as best as he could, but the pain of exposure stung no less. So she had heard the conversation between himself and Trevor.
Congratulations on being such an ass.
Before he could say anything, Angelique turned away in satisfaction of her triumph.
Now here they were again. Holmes and the rest of the party had been invited to the Barbezacs' small evening party. The Noirs were there as well, except for the father who apparently was the wiser and decided to stay home.
Holmes was slightly glad that the place was not as compacted as the ball had been, which made it easier to pick people out individually. As he had scanned the room, his eyes once again fell on Angelique. This time she was not looking at him, which was another relief to his mind. He preferred to watch her in action for the moment, rather than try to engage in conversation with her again. It was too soon for that.
His observing her, however, did not go unnoticed for long.
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Okay, the rest has got to wait for the next chapter. Sorry about the cliffhanger. Is this chapter too long? I guess I could cut it in half, but I kind of like writing less individual chapters. It means less updates to be done. Hope you like it so far. And remember, READ & REVIEW. All comments welcome. Except flames. Well, maybe if the pickings are slim . . .