As I'd expected, the fair Comte could not wait to hear what I had to say. Jules announced his arrival at midmorning.
"That boy you nearly killed has returned. He claims you want to see him this time," Jules grumbled.
"As it happens, he speaks the truth, my man. I am sorry to disappoint you. You don't like our lovely Comte de Chagny, Jules," I observed. "Why?"
"Who is he to you?" he grunted suspiciously.
I realized I was under no obligation to explain myself to my foreman, but I liked this plain-spoken bull of a man, and I believed I had his grudging affection, as well. So I answered him plainly.
"I am his wife's lover." I admit to choking and blushing at the…stark, sordid sound of it.
For his part, Jules started. Something like a smile spread over his face as he looked at me with frank admiration. He shook his head and slapped his knees as one does over an especially good joke.
As Jules went to fetch the boy, my mind wandered over my strange relationship with the Comte. I genuinely believe the boy would miss me if I were gone from his life. We're joined like Cain and Abel; his hatred for me is the most genuine emotion he'll ever feel in the endless round of debuts, tea parties, weddings, social calls, funerals, balls and holidays that will comprise his life. I give him meaning; he is not like me. I help him define himself, give him something to despise and make him feel more beautiful. He should be kinder to me.
"What is it you want?" he demanded.
"Will you sit?" I offered. He did so.
"What is it you want, Sir?"
"Christine has not agreed to discontinue her Women's Rights crusade. In fact, she has two American women coming to visit to help her stir our countrywomen up even more." Perhaps the two American Amazons would be useful after all.
His perfect brow was creased; as though he was trying to think. I continued.
"I see no way to keep your name clear of it."
"You said you had it in hand!" he accused, turning pink.
"If I took it in hand, it was because it was beneficial for me to do so. If you benefited incidental to that, it was all to the good; however, I now find it beneficial to encourage her in her pursuit of equality. You, sadly, still have your exalted name to protect."
"You've got to make her stop! How can it be beneficial to you for her to carry on like this?" he demanded.
"I'm don't think you want to know. Let's just say I like it when she…asserts her independence." I suggested, adding new colors to his complexion.
His dreamy eyes fluttered rapidly. Now he was not only trying to think, but agitated. I sat back comfortably; it looked like it would be awhile. Finally, he was compelled to ask me: "What do you suggest?"
His words were a raspberry pastille on my tongue. I savored them until I nearly swooned; still, it wouldn't do to be over-confident.
"Well…divorce, I suppose." I tried to make it sound as if I'd given it little thought, naturally. The Comte blanched at the word. I could almost feel sorry for him, but then the angry adolescent resurfaced.
"So you can have her! Never!"
"Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but I do have her."
"She's still my wife!"
"I don't suppose it would occur to you that we're not arguing over a prize racehorse, would it? Christine reckons that she belongs to herself, and accordingly, bestows her favor as she sees fit," I snapped. She would've been so proud if she had heard me.
"But she's mine!" You wouldn't think so if you'd seen her last night, I thought.
"Fine," I shrugged. "I don't have a name or a reputation to lose, so I really am in no position to judge. You asked me what I would suggest, and I told you. All I wanted was to give you the courtesy of letting you know."
The boy was studying his hands. Then I noticed that after all this time, he was still wearing his wedding ring, and my hatred for him evaporated in an instant. He was sitting in a room with the man he most despised in the world, fighting to retain some dignity as the last vestiges of hope deserted him. I knew that feeling, and my eyes began to burn for him. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to comfort him. Had to get him out.
"Ahem," I opened breezily, "perhaps you'll want to take some time and consider your options."
He tried to wipe his eyes discreetly. "Yes, I'll consider it. Thank you."
I escorted him to his carriage. "Remarkable, isn't it; we've managed to be civil," I noted.
"Yes! We have," he wore his confused puppy look as he drove away.
"What kind of woman leaves a sweet rich boy for a strange stone man?" Jules was finishing his lunch with a smoke in the sunshine.
"One who knows quality when she rubs up against it."
>
Christine was off to a ladies' meeting, so Gaston, Reza and I embarked on another smoker. When we told him about the American suffragettes, he was impressed. He knew their names. He said Susan Anthony had been arrested for voting about ten years ago; a genuine rabble-rouser, it sounded like.
"If she was my woman, I would put a stop to it before those two get here," he warned.
I laughed bitterly.
"I believe I may speak for him in this, Gaston; he's been trying to put a stop to it since it began. She's got the determination and ambition of any man," Reza interjected.
"She must be biddable by you, Erik, you're yet so new to each other!"
"No, Gaston, Reza is correct; I'm the love-struck one. Besides, I'm hoping to use those women to my advantage. I spoke to the beautiful Comte today, suggested he might want to obtain a divorce, since he'll find his name in the mud again with all this Woman's Rights twaddle."
"And?"
"He says he'll consider it. Enough of this, gentlemen --forget that fop!" I urged, breaking out a gorgeous aged cognac I'd happened upon.
We were well on our way to our respective snoots full when we were startled by a commotion in the front hall. Reza rushed to the door and in poured two good sized Amazons bearing my darling between them. She was clutching a handkerchief to her nose.
"Christine!" I screamed and brought her to the sofa. When she lowered the cloth, I shrieked again: her nose was bloody, her eye was blackened, and her dress was torn. "Christine, good god, what is this?"
I whirled on the women who'd helped her home. "What is this? What's happened?" Sometimes I forget myself…rather, the effect my…self…has on others. They were too terrified to speak to me.
"Erik."
I fell to my knees at Christine's side. "Angel, what—" I mourned her sweet face, kissed her dear hand. She winced, "Erik, my hand." Her knuckles were raw.
"Josette," she whispered.
"JOS—"
"Ssshhh," Christine cut me off. Darius handed me a cloth to see to my darling's face. "She dared to come to the meeting…I became furious when I saw her, I couldn't believe her daring to come! I demanded she leave…oh, I don't even remember everything we said, but you see she got to me before the ladies could help me. Oh, she is mad, Erik, you were right," she caressed my cheek. "My poor darling Erik; poor Erik!"
"No," I seethed, "my poor darling Christine; forgive me…I should have beat her when I had her in my hands. But she'll see now…" My boiling blood turned everything red in my sight; I was determined to run out tonight and find her, once my precious wife was settled.
"Erik," Christine soothed. "take me to bed. I want to lie down."
"Reza—"
"I'll see to the ladies, Erik," he nodded.
"Thank you," they nodded, wide eyed. Christine slipped away and kissed them both thanks.
I got my Angel into bed and slipped in beside her. She tried to appear none the worse for wear, smiling—though I knew it hurt her to do so. "Erik, promise me, will you? Please. Promise me."
"What, Christine?" I kissed her cheek timidly.
"Let it go, Erik. Promise. Don't go after her, please!"
"You want me to let this go?" I raged. "No, Christine; you know you can ask me anything, but not this. I can't let this go!"
"Promise me, Erik. You won't hurt anyone on my account! Promise!" She winced as emotion contorted her features.
There was nothing for it; Christine needed to rest, and I knew she'd never settle until I'd satisfied her on this point. "I won't go after her, Christine, I promise."
And I meant it.
She'll come to me.