Christine revived me easily enough, but when I sat up, I was still a bit woozy.
"I need a brandy."
"Erik, it's not even half-eight in the morning," the daroga reminded me. He was hovering; no doubt taking sadistic delight in my extremity.
"Bugger the time! I want a cigar, too!"
"Erik," Christine soothed, "there's no reason for you to panic. I only mentioned it because I thought you might find it funny."
"Funny. Oh, yes, it's…funny. Christine, you are a very strange girl."
"Well, that goes without saying; otherwise she wouldn't be here," Reza contributed.
"I have a good mind to make you a new cravat," I snapped. "Make yourself useful, old man, and get me my liquor!"
He toddled off, mumbling good-naturedly about me ordering him about in his own house.
Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Christine.
"I hate to take a page from your music, Darling, but turnabout is fair play. We must discuss this."
"Erik, you know it wasn't planned, it just happened," she insisted.
"Oh. Right. Well…we should still discuss it. That is to say, if…"
"Yes, Love, I know what you're getting at," she smiled.
"Well…you see; I would find it necessary to press your husband to divorce you. To, ah, legitimize things…"
Christine laughed, kissed my cheek and rumpled my hair. The last elicited a grumble; I hate that. I do not like to be mussed.
"Why, you quaint, old-fashioned darling! If that's a proposal, I accept."
I had no idea it was a proposal, but I suppose it was. It didn't start out to be a proposal. Christine has a way of turning my fairly formidable intellect inside out. Then, she kissed me in such a way that work fast became the last thing on my mind.
"Well, I have to go to work right now," I stuttered reluctantly. "I'll challenge him to a duel on Sunday."
"Erik! You can't duel on the Lord's Day!" I had to study her for a moment to determine whether she was truly serious. She was.
"Christine…you're…living in sin," I reminded her gently.
Reza reappeared with my brandy and cigar, both of which Christine snatched from him.
"See here, I won't marry you if you're going to be a shrew," I threatened.
"Marry? You're getting married?"
"Reza, butt out!"
Whenever I was not occupied with work, my mind would return to the idea of marrying Christine. It didn't seem particularly important to her, but the more I considered it, the more I realized that I really wanted it. I don't know what I imagined it would accomplish, and it meant we would have to revisit the dreaded Name Question, but by day's end I had scribbled a letter to the boy, requesting a meeting to discuss 'a personal matter'.
I knew enough of his petty psyche to realize that my asking him to divorce her was a guarantee that he'd never do it. To be fair, were the situation reversed, I'd behave identically. Fortunately, Christine's increasing involvement with the Women's Rights…tea party… loomed on our mutual horizon. I knew I could threaten him with that, and the attendant disgrace to his name. On the other side, however, was his stubborn insistence that this was some 'phase' Christine was going through, and that any minute, she'd wake up, have a look at the face on the pillow beside her, and run screaming all the way home. So, while I knew I would not be exhausted by engaging in a battle of wits with Blonde Beauty, it would require considerable patience on my part not to hang him from his own stately old tree, on his impeccably-landscaped drive, leading to his breathlessly fashionable chateau. Dealing with stupid people can wear me down to a sniveling wreck with blinding speed.
I sent the letter off by private courier, resolving to say nothing to Christine until I actually had something to say.
The day passed calmly enough. No Creole succubus, so it was a success. Christine was bouncing when I returned home. She collected Reza and I, and announced that we were to have houseguests in two week's time.
"I wrote to these dear ladies, and they're coming to visit and speak to our women's group!" she squealed. "I hope you don't mind, Reza, I told them they could be our guests. We'll give them our room; Erik and I can—"
I erupted into a fit of strategic coughing. I know it's only an illusion of privacy we maintain; perhaps I am a prude, but I balked at the idea of Christine discussing our sleeping arrangements with Reza.
"Christine, I will thank you to at least maintain a pretense of propriety while these women are here."
"Pretense of propriety?" she echoed, apparently confused.
"Yes. You know, pretend that you and I aren't…doing…what we're doing."
"Erik, you're so funny sometimes," she confessed tenderly.
"I know, but humor me."
"Alright. I'll introduce you as my grandfather," she giggled.
"Ha. Ha."
"I think it's marvelous, Christine!" the ever hospitable Reza cried. "Where are they coming from?"
"America," she chirped blithely.
Reza gulped in stunned silence. I exploded.
"Two AMERICAN women? Christine, absolutely not! Suffragettes are bad enough, but AMERICAN suffragettes--god help me, no."
"Erik, I live here too! They're coming as my guests. All you have to do is be pleasant over meals. Even you should be able to manage that!" she objected.
"Absolutely out of the question. No. No. I will not remain under the same roof with two American Amazons. Christine—" I leaned forward meaningfully, "I would think you of all people would be able to understand why I don't want…suffragettes in the house." Already I was suffering palpitations, imagining them accosting me in a brace.
"Erik, they're elderly ladies; you're upsetting yourself for nothing," Christine assured me.
"How elderly?" I demanded, skeptical.
"Older than you, my Love."
"There, you see? Ancient!" the daroga interrupted.
"Go to hell!" I snapped.
"May we know their names, Christine?" Reza asked, ignoring me. Why was he being so damned accommodating? I'd take him in hand soon enough.
"Yes; Susan Anthony and Elizabeth Stanton."
"And how did they manage to murder their husbands?" I growled.
I sulked through dinner until I could get Reza alone and tell him that it was not possible for those water buffaloes to stay here. Of course, Christine had to rush out directly to tell all her ladies the news.
Reza greeted me with a big smile, all ready to engage in a friendly little conversation.
"Oh no, my man. You'll tell me what you mean by giving Christine permission to allow those beasts to move in here!" I poured drinks. "I ought to throw this at you," I remarked, handing him his cognac.
"Erik, I'm sure they're lovely ladies," he protested.
"HAH. American suffragettes? Don't be ridiculous. How will we sleep while they're here?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean we'll have to sit awake, protecting our…assets."
Reza laughed. "You'll worry yourself into a hospital stay if you don't settle. Christine's friends are welcome here, Erik; I'm sorry it upsets you."
"You'll be sorry when you wake a soprano," I grumbled.
"Anyway, I'd rather discuss the wedding," he grinned.
"There is no wedding; you came in at the wrong time. I just mentioned to her that if she were to, ah…well, I mentioned some circumstances under which I would feel obliged to compel Prince Charming to divorce her."
"Have any of these circumstances come to pass?"
"NO. Don't trouble yourself with it any further."
'What in the world makes you think he's going to divorce her—just because you ask him nicely?" Reza was well amused by that idea.
"No again; but I think he would, given the correct incentives," I replied mildly. I indulged in a bit of fantasy…
Reza brought me back. "The incentive of a rope around his neck?"
"Possibly. I was thinking of the incentive of not having to lend his mighty name to my offspring."
Reza leapt to his feet in a rapture. Rushing over, he proceeded to squeeze the breath out of my carcass.
"What the devil is wrong with you?" I wheezed.
"A little one! What a blessing! What a joy!" he was transported.
"Will you let me go, you old fool? The way you're carrying on, I thought you were having a vision of Christ Transfigured. I just told you none of the circumstances have come to pass."
He retreated to his seat while I attemped to un-rumple myself.
"Well, it can't be long now," he guessed. "You were certainly applying yourself to the endeavor last night."
"Right, well, how do you propose I take care of domestic business when your lovely houseguests descend on us like a murder of carrion crows? HMMMM?"
"I'll tell Darius to knock before he goes into the pantry."
"How has Persia gotten by all these years without its national comedian, I wonder? Anyway, you've got it all wrong. We're not, ah, applying ourselves to anything. We just overlooked some details…the joy of the reunion swept us away a bit. What are you laughing at?" I demanded.
"You're red as a radish, Erik."
"Of course I am. Do you think I enjoy discussing these details with you? I despise having these conversations with anyone."
"Well, I think a baby and a wedding would be marvelous. I would be a doting Uncle Reza," he beamed.
"Yes. Well. I believe it would be wedding, then baby, if it's all the same to you," I huffed.
"You're such a prude. Very well, then; you'd best get off to Chagny and see to the divorce."
Christine popped her head in to say goodnight.
"Ah, excuse me, Reza." I moved to the door. "Christine, dear, may I have a word before you retire?"
"Certainly."
We slipped into the library. Her eyes were concerned as I took her hands.
"Don't worry, Angel; it's nothing bad. At least I hope not," I smiled. She relaxed visibly.
"What is it?"
"I must apologize for not having seen to this sooner, and while I recognize that, technically, it is impossible for me to pledge myself to you—"
She made a confused face.
"Because you're a married woman," I explained, impatient at the interruption.
"Oh. Yes. Sorry." She fell silent so I could continue.
"Right, so while I recognize it's not technically possible, still I want you to know that you are the wife of my heart; and I am yours, such as I am." I fished in my pocket. "With that in mind, I pray you will wear this until such time as I may do better for you."
It was just a simple band set all around with diamonds, but Christine made me feel as if I'd given her England's crown jewels.
"Happy tears," she explained, sniffling all over my waistcoat. "You put it on me."
She admired it on her finger, then looked at me with such love that I thought my heart would burst. She kissed me and whispered, "Come to bed. I want to be naked with you; naked, except for my ring."