A/N: since you've been reviewing so diligently, here's an early update for you, you deserve it :)
In case you're wondering about the chapter's title, it means 'my friend, this is love'. This line comes from Disney's Aladdin where Al tells Genie (who is a bit like Barty, IMHO;) about his feelings for Jasmine (in the oasis scene) and Genie turns into a French guy for a few seconds and says 'Mon ami, c'est l'amour'. Heh, gotta love Aladdin, my fav Disney movie ever:D
Review responses sent out as usual.
Also thanks to: Saldaen farmgirl, the Thirteenth Councilor, Anonymous, Aiko Moonchild, Astrensi, gremlin, azimataiji, UforUseless, Angelnanoo, BobtheFrog, Slytherin Daughter, refloc, 4everrandom, Coruscate Corruption, Starfire Gracen, Irisz, Queen Dragon, Deaces, Krzysztoffa
Chapter 7
Mon Ami, C'est L'amour
Soon it became clear for Nathaniel that Margaret Watson indeed wasn't a mass murderer.
After he and Ffoukes had asked her several questions for which she gave evasive answers or no answers at all, Nathaniel decided it was time to give up on the interrogation. Some other magicians might have employed torture to get the information they wanted, but Nathaniel just wasn't the type. He might have been cruel and calculating, and he would have tortured a demon without scruple, but a human being… especially a female… no.
"The girl's hiding nothing," Nathaniel murmured to the other magician after they exited the interrogation cell. "I can see it in her eyes."
"Nothing… except for the location of the Resistance headquarters," Ffoukes said casually.
"I know." An evil little grin appeared on Nathaniel's face.
"What are you planning, John?"
"Release the girl and send search spheres after her. Sooner or later she will contact her Resistance fellows, and we'll know it."
"You know, we could have done the same with the Jones girl… I mean, Mrs Mandrake. We could have released her instead of forcing her to marry you… and we could have followed her."
"I don't think so." Nathaniel shook his head. "Kitty's too clever for that… and defiant to the last. She would have figured out she was being followed and she would have avoided contact with her fellows for the rest of her life rather than let us find out where they're hiding. This girl, however… she seems a bit… naive. She's indeed the innocent, gentle type as Kitty said…"
"When did you talk to Mrs Mandrake about Miss Watson?" Ffoukes raised an eyebrow at the younger man.
Nathaniel heaved a sigh. "She paid me a little visit after you left my office. She shouted a few things at me, punched me and ran away. Honestly, I don't understand why the guards let her into the building in the first place…"
"Because she's your wife. Everyone in the Whitehall knows that now…" Ffoukes grinned at Nathaniel. "Did she really punch you?"
"For the second time in my life. Her fists are deadly. And Ffoukes, stop laughing. It isn't a bit funny."
"Oh, no, of course not…" The older man chuckled. "So, shall we release the girl, then?"
"Yes. I'll go back and tell her she's free."
"She'll be delighted. And your wife too. Who knows, she might throw herself into your arms after such a display of generosity…" Ffoukes winked at his young friend.
"I wouldn't count on that. She'll see through the plot in a second. But no problem - after all, you and I are the only people in the government who know that Watson is a member of the Resistance. No one else knows that, so we can tell the media that we released her because we found her innocent. Beside us only Kitty knows about Watson's Resistance connections, and Kitty can't stop Watson from going and contacting her fellows. If we're lucky, we'll have the Resistance behind bars within a few days. All of them."
"If the girl is indeed as naive as you think she is," Ffoukes added.
"Yes… If."
"And if not? What if she leaves London and never comes back?"
"Then the Resistance will be one member short and the Tower will have to feed one prisoner less. You have no idea how much it costs the Empire just to feed those prisoners… We have nothing to lose, Ffoukes. If she leads us to the Resistance Headquarters, then it's good for us. If she leaves forever and never causes more trouble, it's also good for us. We gain nothing if we keep her here. She's naive, that's true, but loyal. She wouldn't break if we kept her here all her life…"
"Have you never thought of… torture?" Ffoukes asked vaguely.
Nathaniel's eyes flashed at the older man. "You know I have, and you know I still wouldn't do it."
Ffoukes afforded himself a little smile. "Yes, I do. I just wanted to hear it from you. People like Lovelace, Duvall or Makepeace would have done it without scruple. Most magicians would."
"I'm not like most," Nathaniel said through gritted teeth.
"That's what I told you a few hours earlier," Ffoukes pointed out. "But then you insisted you wanted to be like most magicians."
"Drop the topic, shall we?" The young man sighed. "Go and prepare a few search spheres to follow Miss Watson."
Ffoukes left and Nathaniel re-entered the interrogation cell.
The girl looked up with a defiant expression. "What's the verdict?" she asked in a would-be confident voice, but her lips were clearly trembling with nervousness.
"You're free to leave."
"What?" she gasped. "You must be kidding!"
"Why would I be kidding? My colleague and I decided that you were pretty much useless to us. It wasn't you who bombed Harridges that much is clear. It was either the Resistance or the Americans."
The girl's lips twitched at the mention of 'Resistance'. Nathaniel pretended not to have noticed it. Let the girl believe he didn't know that she was working for the enemy.
"Well, you may go." Nathaniel opened the door for her, motioning her to exit.
The girl stopped in the doorway. "I've seen your wedding on the television, Sir," she said. "Are you happy with your wife?"
Nathaniel was surprised by the question. "Yes," he answered vaguely. "Very much. Why?"
"Just asking." Watson shrugged and left the cell.
"She's free," the young Minister told the guards standing on the corridor.
After a few steps, the woman turned around. "Your wife… she might be one of us commoners… but she seems to be a nice girl. Treat her well, Sir."
With that, she was off, not knowing that as soon as she exited the building, search spheres would be following her wherever she went.
Nathaniel stared after her receding figure, frowning. Had he been imagining the sadness in Watson's eyes as she was referring to his wife? And did a commoner have the right to be sorry for a girl who had been so fortunate to marry a rich magician and live the rest of her life as a princess? Was Kitty worthy of anyone's pity?
Well, if she has to spend her life with me… - a voice in his head told him reproachfully. This woman must have been Kitty's friend, he concluded. Kitty was trying to defend Watson and Watson, in her own clumsy way, was trying to beseech him to be nice to Kitty. Friendship? – he mused. He never really knew what that meant. Ffoukes was someone with whom he could talk about things he wouldn't talk about to anyone else, but… was that friendship? Ffoukes had been very sincere with him today. The older man's openness sometimes scared Nathaniel – but what scared him most was that Ffoukes had been right about him. He was indeed softer than the average magician, and he was indeed on the way to falling in love with his wife.
He bit into his lower lip. What would Kitty say if he managed to put the whole Resistance behind bars? She'd surely hate him for the rest of her life… But he couldn't miss this chance to show off to the government, could he? Nathaniel intended to be the youngest Prime Minister ever, and he needed to grab every opportunity to get closer to his goal.
Even if that makes Kitty hate you even more than she already does? – the annoying little voice in his head asked.
Heck, why should I care about Kitty's opinion?
o o o O O O o o o
It was Saturday morning and Kitty was bored and furious - both because of the fact that John had left for the weekend. She hadn't seen him since he'd kissed her and she'd punched him in his office, as he had gone to work early and come home late every day. She found out about his departure from a note he'd left on the kitchen table. And now he was spending the weekend with that trollop Jane Farrar in Venice. Venice, of all places!
Despite her fury, Kitty couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Mandrake sitting in a gondola and romancing Farrar. Actually, the mere thought of 'Mandrake' and 'romance' in one context was ridiculous. And yet, no matter how ridiculous she found it, a little imp in her soul kept badgering her, telling her that it should be her sitting in the gondola with John. They hadn't even had a honeymoon… come to think of it, they hadn't had a wedding night either. Not that she missed it… or did she?
Kitty knew she should be satisfied now that Mandrake apparently no longer wanted to make any advances, but the thought of him making advances to another woman hurt her.
You're being crazy, Kitty, she chided herself. You should be happy about that idiot frolicking with Farrar and leaving you alone! She sighed. But I'm not. What's wrong with me?
It even came to Kitty's mind that she should go and visit her parents not to be alone, but at the prospect of having to listen to endless praises on her husband, she thought better of it. She didn't really feel like taking a walk in London either, because she had a suspicion that if she did, a search sphere or John's male foliot would follow her wherever she went. After all, her husband surely didn't trust her enough to leave her completely alone at home, giving her a chance to contact her old mates, did he?
And then, there was the case of Maggie Watson. Her husband had let Maggie free days ago, and Kitty simply didn't understand why… unless he wanted Maggie to lead the magicians to the Resistance. But so far nothing had happened. Kitty seriously hoped that Maggie had enough sense to avoid her Resistance fellows for a while. She certainly did.
o o o O O O o o o
Nathaniel wasn't enjoying his stay in Venice much. He hadn't even wanted to come here – all he'd wanted was to leave his home for the weekend so that he wouldn't have to run into a scantily clad Kitty every time he wanted to swim. He'd suggested to Jane that they leave for the British countryside, but she had something more 'romantic' in mind. Nathaniel shuddered at the mere mention of the word 'romantic', but in the hope that a trip to Italy would take his mind off his wife, he'd agreed on Venice as their destination.
As the gondolier was singing 'O Sole Mio' (rather out of tune), Nathaniel's thoughts inadvertently drifted to Kitty. Wouldn't she look lovely, waving at him from Rialto Bridge? Wouldn't it feel nice if she snuggled up to him in the gondola, bending her head on his shoulder like Jane did now?
One would think that a young couple's trip to Venice could only be perfect. But theirs had been far from that. Not only had Nathaniel not felt like coming to Venice of all places, but there had also been problems with the sleeping arrangements. He had insisted on booking two rooms while Jane had insisted on one. Eventually he had managed to persuade her to sleep in separate rooms, lying that he had recently started to snore.
'How do you know that? Did your wife tell you that you were snoring?' Jane had asked accusingly.
'No, as you know well that I'm not sleeping in the same room as she is! However, sometimes I wake to feel my throat sore – that can only mean I have been snoring,' he had replied irritably. 'I just want to spare you a sleepless night!'
'Actually…' Jane had said in a purring voice, 'I wasn't planning on sleeping much over the weekend…'
'The fact that I sleep in another room doesn't mean we can't have sex before we go to sleep,' he had replied.
Jane had given him a kinky smile. 'All right, Casanova, you win. If you perform as well as you did on my living room floor and my office desk, then I'm game. You can sleep wherever you want.'
The ringing of his mobile phone shook Nathaniel out of his reverie about Kitty. He fished the tiny gadget out of his breast pocket.
"Mandrake here."
"Finally, John!" Ffoukes' excited voice said. "I've already phoned you at home, but your wife said you were abroad. I tried to reach Miss Farrar as well, but she didn't answer her phone either."
"We're together," Nathaniel replied dryly. "What's so important, Ffoukes? Something about Watson?"
"No. The girl left London. According to the sphere tailing her, she's currently at some tiny village called Little Hangleton, visiting relatives. They don't even have a telephone connection there, so I doubt if she could contact her Resistance fellows in any way."
"Then apparently she had more sense than to lure us to their headquarters," the young Minister concluded. "But if it's not about her, then why so excited, Ffoukes?"
"Well, Deveraux has just announced that we're going to have a charity ball on Tuesday. All MPs are expected to be there, with their wives."
Nathaniel suppressed a groan. "Charity ball? What for?"
"The terror attack, of course. We're going to raise money for the families of the dead. There were commoners in the building as well, and-"
"…and this is another brilliant PR scheme of Deveraux's," Nathaniel sighed. "Let the mob see how generous we are."
"Exactly as you say, John. Oh, and before I forget, our esteemed Prime Minister is expecting Miss Farrar in Whitehall this evening. How did he put it? 'We can't arrange this ball so fast without the amazing organising talents of Miss Farrar'. So there, wherever you are, you've got to return to London. Or at least, Miss Farrar does. Have a nice weekend, John."
"What happened?" Jane asked with a dark expression as Nathaniel pocketed his cell phone.
"We're going back to London," he replied, and surprisingly, he felt relieved that this would-be romantic weekend ended all too soon.
o o o O O O o o o
"Kathleen? Kitty!" Nathaniel called to his wife as he entered his house in the evening. She didn't answer. "Kathleen?" He walked into the garden, looking around in the darkness.
"Yes?" her voice replied from the swimming pool. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be groping your trollop in a gondola till tomorrow evening?"
"I was going to, but something happened that made me return earlier." He began walking closer to the pool, then halted. "Are you… nude, Kathleen?"
"What makes you think I am?" She asked, resting her elbows on the edge of the pool.
"I can't see any bra straps," he pointed out.
"Oh, okay, I am nude. So what? It's dark, no one can see me unless they come within two metres' range. And just to remind you, it was you who told me not to prance around in bra and knickers… and since I still don't have a swimsuit… Besides, I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow evening, so you don't have any right to reprimand me."
"I wasn't reprimanding…"
"Be a gentleman and hold out that towel for me. And look away while I get out."
Nathaniel did as she asked, fighting down the temptation to steal a glance at her.
"Okay, I'm presentable," she said finally, wrapped in the towel. "So, what brought you back this early? I seriously hope it's not something about Maggie…"
"Don't worry, it has nothing to do with your precious Resistance," he replied, still not looking at her. "Apparently Deveraux got the idea of arranging a charity ball on Tuesday evening. I must be there, and you too."
"But I've got nothing to wear. All the things Bella and I bought are buried under the ruins of Harridges," she said.
"That's why we're going shopping tomorrow."
"Shopping? You and me? Together?" Her voice sounded amused.
Nathaniel sent her a withering glance – as much as she could tell in the darkness. "Yes, you and me, shopping. You have no idea about fashion, and with Bella gone, I will have to make sure you buy something acceptable in our circles. And while you're at it, you may as well buy a swimsuit. Be ready by eight tomorrow. And don't forget your passport."
"My… passport?" Kitty blinked. "Why, where are we going?"
"Harridges was the only place in London where you could buy things worthy of a Minister's wife. We're going to Paris."
"Paris?" she breathed.
"Yes, but only for a day, so don't make big sightseeing plans."
"Can we go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower at least?"
"I don't have time for-"
"You would have had time for sightseeing in a gondola with Jane Farrar," she said nastily.
She had a point there. "All right. We may as well visit the Eiffel Tower."
"Great!" She said enthusiastically, and for a second he thought she was going to hug him. But she didn't, just hurried past him into the building.
Staring after her, he couldn't help thinking that she looked very pretty in that towel. And, inexplicably, he looked forward to tomorrow's shopping spree much more than he had to the weekend with Jane.
o o o O O O o o o
It turned out that Kitty had never yet flown. Nathaniel thought it was a gallant gesture to let her sit by the window. He tried to bury himself into The Times, but didn't manage to close out the outside world – and Kitty – completely, and whenever she gasped or murmured 'oh, how beautiful!', he felt his lips twitch. He had a hard time not to start smiling every time she involuntarily let out a small squeal of delight.
"Look, John, I can see the Eiffel Tower!" she said excitedly after the captain had announced they were about to land. Nathaniel, who hadn't yet been to Paris, slightly leaned across her to catch a glimpse of said building. As he did so, he felt Kitty's warm breath on his neck and cheek. He looked away from the window, and their eyes met. For a change, Nathaniel didn't see hatred or disgust or a desire to kill him in her eyes. They rather reminded him of deep, peaceful black lakes. His gaze shifted a little lower, and was surprised to see that she was smiling. It was a tiny smile, but a genuine one. Not a smirk, not a sneer – there wasn't anything derisive or defiant about it.
"Er… it looks nice," he said and quickly sat back into his seat. The captain's advice to fasten their seatbelts gave him a good excuse to turn away from Kitty and pretend that he had momentarily forgotten about her presence.
o o o O O O o o o
At the airport they got into a taxi. For the first time in his life, Nathaniel was grateful to Arthur Underwood for making him study so many languages as a child – French had been one of them, and it was well-known that the French weren't too eager to learn other languages beside their own.
"Take us to the nearest Chanel or Dior store," he instructed the taxi driver in French. "Whichever is closer. Or whichever you know best… if you know them at all."
"Certainly, Sir. I have driven many British ladies to Dior-Paris-Royale, that seems to be their favourite," the taxi driver replied.
Shortly the taxi stopped before 25, rue Royal. Nathaniel paid the driver and entered the store with his wife.
"This looks even more pompous than Harridges," Kitty remarked, looking around in amazement.
As they entered, one of the shop's assistants hurried to meet them. He gave the young magician's Armani suit a more or less appreciative glance, but as his eyes fell on Kitty, he produced a grimace. Apparently no woman who had ever entered this shop had worn a tattered pair of jeans and tank top that left most of her belly uncovered.
"Er… may I help you, Monsieur, Madamoiselle?" He asked with a forced smile.
"Naturally," Nathaniel replied. "We'd like a ball dress for my wife."
The shop assistant again sized up Kitty from head to toe, then glanced at her elegant companion. Apparently he couldn't decide what to think of such an odd couple. "And what kind of a ball dress did you think of? I mean… a medium-price one, or-"
"Money doesn't matter," Nathaniel said casually. "If you manage to convince us to buy your most expensive one…"
The assistant bowed slightly with a greedy expression. "This way Madame, Monsieur."
They spent over two hours at the shop and left over twenty-five thousand Francs in their cash register. The shop assistant certainly wasn't complaining, but Kitty was – she kept telling her husband 'it's enough already, John, I don't need so many clothes', but he insisted that if they had come as far as Paris, then they should buy her a whole wardrobe. He even paid the shop to have their purchases shipped over to Great Britain, as they had some sightseeing to do and it would be highly uncomfortably if they had to carry dozens of bags to the Eiffel Tower.
"You really needn't have paid out so much money," Kitty said as they left the shop.
"Why not?"
"Because it makes me feel uneasy."
"Uneasy?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her. "Any girl in your place would be too delighted to have a stack of Dior clothes to feel uneasy."
"I'm not like any girl." Kitty shrugged.
"True. You're more annoying than the rest," he replied, but didn't sound reproachful in the least. Kitty even thought he seemed to be smiling. Barely, but still… it was a smile.
"And now, My Annoying Wife, shall we see that Eiffel Tower?"
"Yes, let's." She returned his smile.
o o o O O O o o o
They caught a taxi that drove them to Trocadero Square.
A most unusual sight greeted them there: due to the extreme heat, several children – and a few of their parents – were bathing in the fountains all around.
"Ridiculous," Nathaniel muttered. "They'd be fined for such behaviour in London."
"They are French, John," Kitty reminded him. "Not as snobbish as some British."
"Are you referring to me?"
"Noooo, why would I?" She grinned. "But you know, you could take that jacket off… no one would be scandalised if you did, and I promise I won't tell any of your friends in Parliament. Besides, you're sweating like a pig."
"Am not!"
"Yes, you are. It's at least 35 Celsius."
Making a grimace, Nathaniel took off his suit jacket. Of course, he'd never admit to Kitty that he felt much better wearing just a thin linen shirt. He hated it when other people (or certain djinn) were right.
o o o O O O o o o
There were long queues waiting to get their tickets for the Eiffel Tower visit. Soon Nathaniel started to get irritable and impatient. After an hour of waiting, Kitty had to grab his arm and drag him back into the queue.
"It just isn't worth the wait," he whined. "Besides, my back is killing me. Having to stand at one spot for hours gives me horrible back-aches. Not to mention it's hot and I'm close to fainting."
"Don't be such a pansy, John!" she snapped. "Honestly, I thought you were some sportsman with those fine broad shoulders of yours, but apparently-"
"You think I have fine broad shoulders?" he interjected.
"Uh… well, you do." She looked away, feeling that blood was rushing to her cheeks. "Ah, look, the queue has moved! We're only about half an hour from getting our tickets! Patience, John, I'm sure it will be worth it!"
And it was. In about forty minutes, they were standing on top of the tower, looking down at the city below. Several boulevards ran from the Arc de Triomphe in all directions, as though the Arc de Triomphe had been the spider sitting at the middle of its web.
Nathaniel welcomed the breeze that had been completely absent on the ground – it was a warm breeze, but still better than none at all.
"I have dreamed about this all my life," Kitty spoke up, gazing down at the fountains of Trocadero that now seemed like tiny bluish-white springs with hundreds of pinpricks bathing in them.
"About what? Having to put up with a whiny husband?" Nathaniel asked in an amused voice.
"No," she laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily. "About looking down at Paris from the Eiffel Tower. As a little girl I heard so many idealised stories about Paris and I never hoped I'd ever get a chance to visit it." She reached out and put her hand on his that was resting on the railing. "Thank you for bringing me here."
Nathaniel wanted to slip his hand from under hers and wanted to tell her that he hadn't done it for her, only in his own interest (equipping her with clothes in which she wouldn't bring shame on him in the London magician society), but he found that he could do neither. So he just stood there, watching as the wind ruffled her long, black hair, and before he realised what he was doing, he covered her hand with his other one, and giving her a faint smile, he said "You're welcome."
The afternoon found them on board a Seine sightseeing boat. The boat played different music every time they reached a new bridge or an important building. As they sailed past Notre Dame and the boat's speakers began playing 'Ave Maria', Nathaniel felt his insides tremble – whether because Ave Maria was so heart-wrenchingly beautiful or because Kitty had suddenly decided to lean her head on his shoulder, Nathaniel didn't know. All he knew was that he was enjoying himself much more than he had with Jane in Venice.
He glanced down at Kitty, who was deeply immersed in watching the many couples happily snogging on the shore. Over Kitty's head, Nathaniel's gaze met that of a man sitting on the other end of the bench. The man grinned at him, and in a distinctive Breton accent he said: "Mon ami, c'est l'amour."
Nathaniel looked away, savouring the sentence. Could it be love? Could he love anyone beside himself?
He didn't know whether he was in love or not, but if he was, he wasn't yet ready to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.
o o o O O O o o o
A/N: almost everything I wrote in this chapter about Paris comes from my own experience, from my own memories. I was in Paris in August 1997 and it was so hot (around 38-39 Celsius) that people were indeed bathing in the fountains at Trocadero… As for the boat trip and the Eiffel Tower, it was just like how I described it here. The only thing about Paris that doesn't come from my own experience is the shop of Dior. I never cared to buy clothes in Paris, I went there for sightseeing, not for fashion reasons! (Btw, the best thing about my Paris visit was Disneyland, LOL).
You might wonder about the currency I used here – Francs instead of Euros. First I wrote Euros, but then my beta Michael reminded me that the Bartimaeus trilogy was set in an alternate universe where very likely there was no European Union. So that's why the French still have their Francs here :)
There's an illo for this chapter in my bio.
Review, please!