9/21/05 The story finally continues! Thank you for continuing to read. Will try to update again before Tuesday.
Paladin16
The wind was howling against the front of the house as Erik started toward his room for the night. He could feel blisters forming on his palms from swinging the ax. He assumed he would feel the ache of hard labor through his shoulders, arms and back later in the night or the following morning.
"Would you be more comfortable at the dining room table?" Sophia asked before he disappeared into his room.
He hesitated, his back to her as he considered her words.
"With you and Mademoiselle Citrine?" he asked, unsure of the cook's last name.
Sophia hesitated. "If...if you wish," she said quietly.
She turned heel in the hallway before Erik could answer. Just as he began to tell her he would stay in his room she called to Citrine to set three places at the dining room table.
That damned girl! His shoulders bunched and jaw tensed as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"The food is ready," Citrine reminded them as she popped out of the kitchen and walked down the hall until she was visible to Erik from his place at the top of the stairs. She glanced from Sophia to Erik. "We must eat right away. Cold food is very bad for your health. People have been known to die from eating cold food."
Erik exhaled and cursed under his breath. A moment's hesitation had earned him a place at the head of the table with two servants, one of which was quickly giving him an ulcer and a headache.
Once Sophia had wandered into the kitchen, Erik walked slowly down the stairs and into the dining room. The two girls had just finished bringing dinner to the table. They stood back once he appeared, both slowly removing their aprons. Once they exited the room, he sat at the head of the table and glanced around. A peculiar, heavy feeling formed in his stomach, threatening to replace his hunger.
Sophia and Citrine appeared a moment later, both hesitating, their hands on the backs of their chairs. Just as Erik realized they were waiting for him to rise and seat them, they pulled their chairs out for themselves and sat, exchanging glances across the table.
The moment they all sat together Erik wanted to bolt from the room. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of disaster.
"Have you seen the snow is falling again?" Citrine asked suddenly as she shoveled beef onto Erik's plate.
Erik glanced from her to Sophia, unsure to whom she was speaking. As soon as he realized it was he she was questioning he promptly answered, "No."
Silence filled the air again, heavier than before.
"Well, we have firewood enough for tonight and tomorrow, so I'm not concerned," Sophia said at last.
"Perhaps Philippe, Gabe, and Monsieur Monteclaire will arrive later than expected," Citrine commented.
Sophia shrugged. "I think Philippe would beat the horses to death to drive them through the snow, even if it was twenty feet high," she said, her voice icy.
"Wine, Monsieur?" Citrine asked upon noticing Erik staring at the unopened bottle of Dupree.
He nodded and plucked the wine bottle from the table. He filled Citrine and Sophia's glasses as well as his own, though he failed to notice their shared glances as he drained and refilled his wineglass.
"Monsieur, you have come to us from Paris, no?" Citrine asked as she took a cautious sip of her wine.
"Yes," he answered.
Citrine nodded. "I am from Dublin," she answered. "And Sophia? What about you?"
"From here," she answered, sipping her wine.
Sophia's reply made Erik realize he had no idea where he was. He hadn't bothered to study the address on the correspondence from Anne Giry, and he hadn't asked anyone the location of Belmont Manor.
"My grandparents were married inside the cathedral."
Citrine's eyes went wide. "In Chartres? Honestly?"
Sophia nodded. "My father delivered wine to my uncle down the road from the village center. I visited Chartres with Philippe when I was much younger. We were scolded for running or being far too noisy nearly every time."
"Inside Chartres?" Erik asked suddenly, realizing too late that he added nothing to the conversation. He poured himself another glass of wine and filled Sophia's glass, which earned him a peculiar glance.
"Yes, that's right," Sophia said, swallowing half her glass of wine.
"You were running within the cathedral?" Citrine gasped.
Sophia nodded. "My father made me walk the labyrinth on my knees."
"The whole thing?"
"No, only one or two quadrants. If I were to have suffered through the whole thing I might still be there," Sophia replied, taking another sip of her wine. She glanced at Erik, who took it as a signal to refill her glass.
"How far is the vineyard from Chartres?" Citrine asked.
Sophia played with her glass as she thought. "Perhaps an hour at the most," she shrugged. "Everything seems to take forever when you are young." She glanced at Erik, pulling her wine glass toward the edge of the table to keep him from pouring more wine into her glass. She considered her glass a moment before taking another sip.
Sophia pursed her lips and shrugged again as she looked at Citrine. "My father also threatened to throw me in the river, but I had learned how to swim, so it wasn't an effective threat."
"For what?" Citrine asked.
A forlorn look entered Sophia's eyes and she didn't answer. She sighed, picking at her food a moment before draining her wineglass.
Citrine continued eating in silence, while Erik did the same, glancing briefly at the two girls. Neither of them took notice of his presence, so he took the given opportunity to watch them from the corner of his eye. His gaze constantly fell on Sophia, who seemed saddened by the mention of her father.
He wanted to ask her what had happened to her parents, as he had few memories of his own.
"You know he told me once that those gargoyles atop the cathedral would come for me one day if I continued to run about the church like a beast." Sophia shuddered at the memory, her words slightly slurred. "Those terrible, twisted, looming things! They were always staring down from their high places just waiting to snatch a little girl. Father was always attempting to frighten me with those ugly things."
Erik continued to stare at her, his brow furrowed, his heart hammering. He was the terrible gargoyle, the beast silently looming, waiting to snatch a little girl from the ground and whisk her away to his dark kingdom. He was her nightmare.
"Monsieur?" Sophia questioned.
Erik blinked, realizing he had been staring at her. "My apologies, Mademoiselle," he mumbled, reaching for his glass as he lowered his eyes.
His arm nudged the wine bottle, which teetered to the side. Sophia reached out to keep it from falling and tipped her own glass over, splashing wine onto the table. With a gasp she released the wine bottle, tipping it toward Erik. He caught the bottle before it fell, though Sophia had shot to her feet and run to fetch a towel.
Before Erik knew what had happened, Sophia was sprawled out, her feet in the dining room and her torso in the kitchen.
"My God," Citrine gasped as she climbed to her feet.
"I'm fine," Sophia answered, though by the trembling in her voice she was quite shaken up. With Citrine's help she sat up and rubbed her right shoulder.
"What happened?" Citrine asked as she knelt beside Sophia.
"I—I hit the doorway with my shoulder. I—I wasn't watching where I was walking," she said, her voice breaking at the end. She covered her left eye for a moment and wiped the tears from her eye.
"It's fine, Sophia. You did nothing wrong. Come, I'll help you home," Citrine offered. She glanced up at Erik, who was standing by the table, then turned her attention to Sophia. "Here, take my hand. I'm sure Monsieur Belmont will assist you as well."
"Give me a moment," Sophia said as she pressed her knuckles to her eyes. She sighed and fanned herself, blowing air past her lips. Her actions sent loose strands of hair flying around her face.
With a curt nod, she lifted both arms, and Citrine took one. Erik looked away as he took her hand and helped her to her feet. She lost her balance and fell against him, her chin digging into his chest.
"I apologize, Monsieur, I don't think I am myself," Sophia said as she dug her fingers into his arm.
Citrine quickly put her arms around Sophia and pulled her away. "I will see her in for the night, Monsieur. If you wouldn't mind, I will take her to the guest room for the evening."
Erik nodded, releasing Sophia and turning away. Without another word he left the dining room in favor of his bedchamber. The moment he reached his bedroom door he heard loud thumping on the front door.
Moments later Citrine spoke again. "Monsieur…Turro?"
"Philippe sent me. Where is Sophia?"
"I, Monsieur, we were not expecting anyone. Sophia is not feeling well and—"
"Sophia," Turro said. Erik heard him stomping his shoes in the foyer. He inched toward the stairs until he saw Karl Turro's profile. "There you are. Your brother…sent me…what's wrong? You look ill."
"I'll be fine," Sophia muttered as she turned away. She glanced up the stairs and her gaze locked to Erik's, despite him standing in shadows. "Good night, Karl."
Karl stormed toward her and took her by the arm. "You are drenched in wine. What happened?" he asked as he took her chin in his hand. "Are you…have you been drinking?"
"We had dinner with Monsieur Belmont," Citrine interrupted. "He offered—"
"He offers wine to his two servants when there is an empty house. Is that it? He serves two naïve girls drinks and then what?"
"And then nothing."
"Yes, because I arrived before he could lure you up to that room of his."
"Good night, Karl," Sophia said as she brushed his arm away.
"Sophia, listen to me," Karl started.
"I am tired," Sophia said before he could finish. "Good eve, Monsieur."
With that she was gone, and Erik returned to his room where he sat awake for the night, thoughts overflowing from his mind like wine from a goblet.