Ch 9

"Eck."

Ursula, Corinna's companion, stood at the top of the stairs. She made a short bow toward Anisha then said his name again. "Eck, Corinna."

Corinna was looking for him. At least a dozen times a day, as they traveled from London to Calcutta, Ursula would approach him and hiss 'Eck'. It was normally followed by a sharp motion of her hand telling him he should come with her. Not once had he disobeyed. Ursula's stern glare reminded him too much of his mother, with a wooden spoon in her hand.

Erik glanced back at Anisha. "I—I'm sorry. This is rude."

She shook her head. "I heard you are playing nursemaid to my cousin. How very noble of you to protect her from harm. Perhaps you will be my guardian as well?"

"What could happen in a week?"

Anisha raised a brow. "A week? No, no, no. Papa will be gone for two months and Mr. Baleeze will be gone for six. They have business, lots of business in Persia."

The longer she spoke the more uncomfortable Erik became. Promises, he reminded himself, he had made promises. This was a woman destined to be married to a very wealthy, powerful man. Her father was a wealthy, powerful man. Erik was starting anew after fleeing Persia. He couldn't risk anything, least of all a mangled mess of desire. It was only desire, he said to himself, sinful lust and nothing more. He couldn't be in love with a woman he didn't know.

"You have Ravi to look after you," he pointed out, squinting at her as the sun hit his eyes.

Anisha tilted her head to the side. "Ah yes, my dear cousin Ravi. Well, since you have a little charge to look after, you'd best find Corinna. Who knows what trouble she will cause if she's left unattended."

"I apologize for being terribly rude. Have a good day," Erik answered awkwardly. He gathered his overcoat and waistcoat from where they lay in a makeshift pillow and headed toward Ursula.

"We'll meet each other again soon. Lunch, perhaps."

"We're going to Chandernagore today, I think."

"I see." She frowned. "I was hoping to see the plans for my new home with the architect my father and uncle are quite smitten with."

"Yes, well—"

"Enjoy then." Anisha smiled again, dark eyes shining in the sunlight as she followed him. "Chandernagore. Haven't been there in a while," she mused.

A whip of conscience lashed through Erik's mind. He turned again and saw Ursula staring coldly at him. He nodded to her and trotted to the stairs where she waited in frigid silence.

Once they were halfway down the narrow staircase, Ursula grabbed his arm and stopped him. She pushed him until his back was against the wall. If she could have understood his words, he would have told her to stop. Ursula stared him directly in the eyes. She dragged her finger along her neck then pointed to the rooftop.

"No speak, no nothing," Ursula snapped. She nodded to the bottom of the stairs. "Corinna waits."

Erik nodded and ran his hand along the back of his neck. The hairs stood on end.

Corinna was walking out of the kitchen as Ursula led Erik into the foyer. This was the part of the Patel House he enjoyed the most. The foyer floor was made of marble with a blue and white tiled fountain set in front of the door. Two potted palms graced either side of the doorway, and Erik had installed a small round window in the ceiling on the second day he had been in Dareesh. The window allowed light to filter onto the fountain and made the water sparkle. The ambiance was calming, the lines of the walls and floors in perfect symmetry. He had even gotten down on his hands and knees and measured the distance between the pots and the doorway to make certain everything was precisely placed.

"You look terrible," Corinna commented. She handed him a glass of lemonade and crossed her arms.

"Flattery so early in the morning?" he replied dryly. He sipped at the lemonade and thanked her for the welcomed treat.

Corinna smirked. "I knocked on your door a half-hour ago and a woman came out. I waited a moment for you to dress and peeked inside. Omar yelled at me and said you hadn't returned to the room all night."

Ursula said something Erik didn't understand. She gestured toward him and rolled her eyes, which made him assume she said nothing flattering.

"You were on the roof all night?"

Erik glared at Ursula. "I fell asleep."

"Why didn't you go back to your room? You were headed downstairs."

"You saw my reason for leaving the room this morning."

Corinna covered her mouth. Her cheeks and forehead turned red with embarrassment. "If Uncle Padir was home….Well, never mind what he would do." She turned to Ursula again and said something else in Hindu which Erik didn't understand. Ursula nodded and walked to the kitchen without so much as another glance at Erik.

"Have you heard from your father yet?" Erik asked.

Corinna shook her head. "Not yet." She headed for the stairs and looked back at Erik to make certain he followed. "He said very nice things about you when he last wrote to Uncle Padir. Did Uncle show you the letter?"

"No, it was in Hindu, but Mr. Patel told me about it." Erik replied.

"Papa doesn't recommend many men for work, especially Europeans. He must really like you. I can't imagine why," she teased.

Erik ignored her playful attempts. "So….your father is returning from London and your uncle is headed to Persia on business?"

"Is he?"

"He is."

"How do you know?" Corinna asked.

"I heard."

"From Uncle Padir?"

They stood before the room Erik shared with Omar. Erik scratched his head and hesitated. "No, I haven't seen him since last night."

"Who told you then?"

"One of his daughters."

Corinna blew air past her lips. "Anisha?"

Erik tried again. "What business does he have in Persia?"

"It's improper for you to be speaking with her alone. She's spoken for, Monsieur Levesque."

He cringed at her formality. It seemed to Erik that Corinna only referred to him by his title and last name when she was angry with him. Erik knew she would not give him information as to what Mr. Patel and Mr. Baleeze were doing in Persia.

"I didn't do anything."

"Who was with her?"

Erik stammered.

"No one. Ursula already told me."

His irritation grew. "First of all, I don't answer to you. Secondly, she appeared on the roof this morning. What was I supposed to do? Jump off the parapet?"

Corinna giggled. "You'll only give Mr. Baleeze ideas. Now hurry and get dressed. We leave for the ferry in two hours. Or do you not want to go to Chandernagore?"

By the time they made it to the ferry, the sun was high and hot in the sky. The brown water lapped against its sides as the small, flat wooden watercraft bumbled north to Chandernagore. Erik lay with his back against ropes and folded canvas. He had placed his hat over his face to block the sun. With only Corinna able to speak French and English, Erik decided to nap a while.

Corinna and Ursula conversed with the twelve other passengers on the craft. Between dreams, Erik heard snippets of their conversation. One man and one woman were French. They were telling Corinna about the theatre in Chandernagore and Corinna was translating the conversation to Ursula. Erik listened on and off until he heard the woman say her husband's name: Joseph.

Based on the content of their conversation, Erik knew who they were: Joseph and Lilie DeChantel. Erik's father had worked for the DeChantels for several years before he lost his hand to an accident with a carriage horse. After the accident, Erik had not seen the DeChantels. Five years had passed since his father nearly died from infection.

In happier times, Joseph's father, Joseph Sr., had given Erik his first violin lesson at the age of six. The elder DeChantel had fostered Erik's love for music, one which his parents found frivolous following Monsieur Leveque's disfigurement. They had refused to continue his lessons and had discouraged his obsession with the arts.

"You know, on Thursday night they're performing Balfe's Bohemian Girl," Joseph DeChantel boasted. "It's monumental, that's what it is. If Lilian and I weren't patrons of the arts, West Bengal would be waiting another twenty years for Balfe, Wagner…we really are instrumental here."

Erik grinned beneath his hat. He remembered why he hated going to the DeChantel House. While generous, they were the most pompous people Erik had ever met. They were gods in their own little world and had no intention of letting anyone forget it.

"With so many French on board, I'm surprised the ferry hasn't capsized," Erik said as he sat up.

Joseph and Lilie turned and gawked at Erik. He had never seen Madame DeChantel but she looked pleasant enough. Erik hadn't seen Joseph since they were fifteen years old but aside from filling out, he was the same youth Erik remembered.

"Erik Levesque? What in God's name are you doing here?" Joseph asked. He jogged up to Erik and shook his hand.

"Designing a house."

"Oh. I didn't know you had pursued architecture. If your parents had their druthers, you'd be driving a coach."

"Most likely. What are you doing here?"

"My wife is doing the work of our Lord while I, my dearest friend, am promoting the work of the most talented musicians and composers. Nicholas Jevesky is in Chandernagore. Have you heard of him?"

"Yes, heard of him but I've never met him."

"We're meeting him for lunch. You should join us." He glanced behind at the three women still standing beneath a shabby canvas overhang. "Let me introduce you to my wife, Lilian."

Lilian DeChantel was a plump but lovely young woman. She was dwarfed by her tall, thin husband. She stood with her hands clutching her small handbag and a little white dog Erik hadn't noticed until halfway through the conversation. She laughed at everything Erik said, making her ringlets bob and her gold earrings swing.

Erik had a feeling he would like Lilie. She laughed like one of his younger cousins.

For being married to a DeChantel, Lillie was exceptionally nice. She was familiar with opera, as was expected of a DeChantel, but her passion, she said, was theater. Calcutta had delighted her. The Oriental Theatre had been her favorite, though the Hindu Theatre was where she and Joseph had made their first donation.

Already Erik found it a joy to be around his kinsmen. Chandernagore would do him good. He needed music to calm his soul. He needed to be away from temptation for awhile.