September 16th 1892: Erik
Our journey to the park was pleasantly uneventful. There was a lot of merry chatting on the front bench. Of course it was Antoinette who was doing most of the talking. That girl started fascinating me. I had always assumed the ability to talk that much only developed at a much later age, but apparently I had been wrong. Jacqueline and Philippe had difficulties in squeezing a sentence in between every now and then. Yet as long as my boy was happy, I wouldn't try to change anything about the situation.
I had a lot of time to observe all that, for the mood in the part of the coach where I was sitting was about as cheerful as on a funeral. Not a single word was exchanged between Christine and me. She looked as if she'd have loved to swap seats with the maid again, yet without even knowing it Jacques had thwarted that plan. He had let the horse go as soon as the gate had been open, so that I had had to jump onto the coach. There was no way in which the two women with their long skirts could have swapped seats during the journey, and asking the butler to stop again would have drawn too much attention to the fact that she didn't want to sit next to me.
So she was stuck here, staring outside, probably wishing she were somewhere else. Sometimes I threw her a sideways glance, only to look away when I thought she was about to turn her head into my direction. It was an utterly ridiculous situation. We had shared so much in the last few weeks, we had been so close. And now we were back in the stage in which I was only allowed to watch her, the way I had watched her from behind the mirror more than ten years ago.
What had I done to deserve this? The only explanation I could find was that my wish to sleep in her bed had been too much. But she had to know that it didn't mean any further… obligations for her. I just wanted to feel the warmth of her body next to mine, her sweet breath on my skin… and at the moment it seemed as if I wouldn't even get that. I could practically see myself lying in the guestroom, separated from my beloved by just one wall and yet so far away from her.
That wall already existed between us, though. It was invisible, but I could feel it, hard and cold and impenetrable. Even if I had talked to Christine, I doubted she'd have heard it. So I spent most of the time looking around as well, listening a little to the others. Their conversation was far from exciting, but it was better than this all-consuming silence.
I suppressed a sigh of relief when we finally reached the park and said goodbye to Jacques, who'd fetch us in a few hours' time. Just like I had predicted, the paths were almost empty. So were the large green meadows. We started walking around in one big group, but Antoinette immediately grew bored.
"Can't Philippe and I go and play something?" she asked.
"Of course," her mother replied. "You can play on this meadow, and Erik and I will look for a nice bench to sit on." I was amazed that she even remembered that promise.
"I'll look after them," Jacqueline said.
"Come, Philippe," the girl called, pulling her brother away from us. The maid followed them.
For a while Christine and I watched them silently. The children were running across the meadow, and Jacqueline had sat down under the parasol and watched them as well. It was a very peaceful picture, full of joy. The contrast to us couldn't have been more striking. I wondered whether she realised it, too.
"Didn't we want to talk?" I reminded her matter-of-factly after a few minutes, unwilling to show how much she had hurt my feelings. Cold. I had to become as cold as the wall between us.
"What? Oh yes…" she muttered. "Talk… yes… Where do you want to go?"
I led her to the nearest bench, which stood under a group of trees. It was a lovely spot – too bad it was wasted on someone who couldn't appreciate its beauty at the moment.
We sat down so far away from each other that a third person could have easily sat between us. Again, her hand was lying on the bench, yet this time I made no attempt to seize it. One rejection in that respect was enough for me.
"So… you wanted to know more about the servants?" Christine asked.
"Later!" I answered before I could hold myself back. "First I'd like to know why you're treating me like an outcast all of a sudden. What have I done?" I had forgotten all about being cold. I wanted to destroy the wall, not add a few new bricks.
"I'm not treating you any differently than usual," she protested. Wordlessly, I leaned over to touch her arm. She shrunk back, as if my hand were poisonous.
"See?" I muttered. "If I remember correctly, I was still allowed to touch you the last time we met. And now you're acting as if I had a contagious disease. What's wrong with me, Christine? Why can't I embrace you?"
When I uttered the word ´embrace´, something seemed to change for her, though I wasn't sure what it was. The expression on her face grew softer, more understanding. Then she turned around to look at me… really look at me.
"Nothing is wrong with you," she told me firmly. "It's just… it's just… when we embrace, the temptation could become too strong." She didn't go on, so I assumed she had said all that she wanted to. I nodded.
"Yes," I commented. "Yes, that's –" I never finished the sentence, for in this moment the children approached us. To my horror I noticed Philippe was limping slightly. He was the one to reach us first.
"Maman! Uncle Erik!" he wailed in a voice that made me forget all about embraces and temptations at once. "Antoinette made me trip over her leg. Look!" He stepped onto the bench with his foot and pushed up his trousers, so that we could examine his knee. It was indeed bleeding.
Christine and I looked at each other and started rummaging in our pockets. By the time we had found our handkerchiefs the girl had arrived at the bench as well.
"I didn't do anything!" she called. "Philippe tripped over my leg, but that wasn't my fault. He just didn't look where he was going!"
"Yes, I did," he contradicted her. "You were standing behind that bush, and when I came to search for you, you stretched out your leg!"
"No, I –"
"That's enough," Christine said sternly. The children were silent at once. "Not a single problem gets solved by shouting. We'll clean this wound now, and then we'll talk about what happened."
In this moment Jacqueline reached us, too.
"What has happened?" she asked. "They were playing behind me for a few seconds, and when I turned around to look why they were so quiet, they were running away." Spotting Philippe's knee she inhaled sharply. "Oh my God," she breathed. "I'm so sorry. I should have paid more attention."
"It's not your fault," Christine assured her. "Every child gets hurt every now and then."
"Besides," I added. "It's not very serious. Not even the trousers are torn."
We three adults cleaned the wound, while Antoinette stood next to the bench, sulking because she wasn't in the centre of attention. Yet we soon realised that three people were too many for the task We kept getting in each other's way. So I simply held my boy's hand, muttering words of comfort every time he winced and wincing in sympathy. Fortunately the whole process didn't last very long. After just a few minutes he pulled down the trouser leg again and took a few steps.
"It hardly hurts anymore," he declared, making all of us smile.
"Do you think you can continue playing or would you rather go home?" I asked him. Yet it was Antoinette who replied.
"I don't want to go home," she said. "It's so boring there. Please don't make us! I'll even apologise." She seized her surprised brother's hand and shook it so forcefully that his whole arms vibrated. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "Though it really wasn't my fault that you… Anyway, I'm sorry. Can we go and play again?"
"Only when I can be the one hiding now," Philippe answered with a sly smile. I couldn't help being proud of him. That was my boy.
She nodded, and they left us. Jacqueline stood up from the bench and walked after them.
"They're lovely children," I remarked.
"Yes, they are," she agreed. "Well, most of them time…" We chuckled, yet when our eyes met, we grew serious again. There was no use attempting a normal conversation as long as the one we had had before wasn't finished. So I wanted to do that as quickly as possible, before I wouldn't dare do it anymore.
"I understand what you've said before," I told her in a soft voice. She nodded, thus acknowledging she knew what I was talking about. "You're afraid of what I might do. But I can assure you I'll hold myself back. I won't think there'll be more between us, just because we touch or embrace each other. I promise I won't give in to the temptation."
My words had clearly not had the desired effect. When I looked at her, her eyes were wide.
"I wasn't talking about you," she whispered. "I meant that the temptation could become too strong for me…"