Some fears aren't laid to rest so easily.
Over the following days, I was overtaken by waves of murderous rage so violent I could scarcely draw breath. In these moments I wondered how I would ever manage when Renoir cruised into my parlor and attempted polite conversation. One night, I sat in the bathtub and wept. I couldn't bear the hollow grief in Christine's eyes. My daughter shunned me as though I was the one scandalizing Paris with my behavior.
One thing of which I was absolutely certain: my eldest daughter could not be permitted to ruin the lives of her Mother and siblings. When I looked around the dinner table at my little children, I felt so impotent. I knew that I would put Miri-ange away if she was pregnant. There was nothing for it, though it meant my death, I was convinced. What frightened me was what Christine's reaction would likely be. Could it be after all we'd been through that I'd lose her over such a thing? I honestly feared it. She kept sighing, saying we had to bear it. She's our daughter, Erik; what else can we do, she'd ask. Well, we could pray like all the saints and apostles that there's no baby, for a start. If there was no baby, perhaps there was a chance for Miri-ange yet. I needed to ask Raoul what he knew, what he'd heard. I needed to know how much my little Princess' name was out in the streets, but I was terrified to learn the truth.
Reza watched with pleading lapdog eyes, but I was as volatile as I'd been in memory.
"I can't discuss it, Daroga. I don't know where to begin, or what to say. If I start, I'm too afraid of myself. Stupid girl! Goddamned stupid girl!"
-0-0-0-0-
"Erik. Talk to your daughter."
"What the devil am I to say to her, Christine? Isn't it time for her Mother to take her in hand?"
"I tried." She was picking at her sleeve and breathing shallowly. "All she'll say to me is that he said…he said he wouldn't come."
I wheeled away from Christine, making for the back garden.
"Don't you walk away from me, Erik!" Her voice was ragged with fury.
"Christine, I cannot hear this now. I have all to do not to hunt the barbarian down and murder him in front of his long-suffering wife. You give me some time now, Woman. Go away."
I was actually surprised that she let it go that easily; so unlike her. I went to the kitchen garden and pinched off a bit of thyme. Crushing the leaves, I released the pungent scent; it relaxed me somehow. I bent to pull up a few stray weeds, wondering what Miri-ange was thinking.
This revelation, heartbreaking as it was for her, was actually helpful to me. It helped me clarify my thinking considerably. Not that it made me feel better for it; quite the contrary. It was my entire fault, spoiling her and doting on her as I had. So busy worrying about Masson that I didn't see where the danger really lay. Masson can't stay away from the women, God love him, but he's got a loving, generous heart. Miri-ange really didn't lose much sleep about anyone else, except as it affected her agenda. Even as a baby, she wouldn't hear 'No'. It's part of youth to be self-absorbed, I understood, but there was something so single-minded in Miri-ange's pursuit of her desires. It reminded me of…me, and it was frightening.
I'm sorry to admit that the part of me that was pure Papa still wanted to murder Renoir, but the tiny part of me that could be reasonable suggested otherwise. It seemed clear that my daughter had made a fool of herself over a married man. Not that it excused him, no; but who knew how much fighting off he'd done? If I knew my Miri-ange, he'd all but beaten her off with a bundle of switches. I was nothing but a decrepit skeleton, but I'd been a man once, and I could put myself in something of Renoir's predicament. What could be more alluring to a man than a girl who's clearly mad about him? I imagined him doing all he could to persuade her off the idea, until finally, her gave her what she insisted on. And for her part, she'd convinced herself that he was as passionately in love with her as she was with him; otherwise why would he take her to bed?
-0-0-0-0-
"I'm afraid we must discuss M Renoir, my dear; for all of our sakes. I've avoided it as long as possible."
Miri-ange's eyes belied the haughty tilt of her head as she settled on the music room sofa.
"Well, Mirielle? You've nothing to say? Your Mother tells me that he's refused our invitation; why?"
"He's married, Papa." Her admission was lifeless.
"But you knew that, Miri-ange, don't lie about it!"
"He said—"
"I'm sure that he said a good many things, Mam'zelle. As I recall, we've spoken before about the disparities between what men say and what they think; ages ago, it seems now," I chuckled ruefully.
"Auguste's not a liar!"
"I didn't say he was," I replied cynically.
"You don't know anything about it! He said—"
"Did he ever say he'd leave his wife for you? Marry you? Take care of you? Did he ever once promise you anything? You'll tell me the truth, God help you!"
The way she hung her head obviated any words she might have uttered. I knew she was on the verge of tears again, but if I let that move me, I feared I'd never speak again. "Just as I suspected; he never encouraged you at all, did he? Angeline, you pressed your attentions on that man."
"No!" she cried.
"You threw yourself at him without a thought for your name, or the name of anyone in this house. Your Mother…your sisters who'll never succeed in making decent marriages because of this outrage. Your bothers will be harmed too, but not like the girls will be. It's been a reckless, selfish performance, make no mistake."
"Papa, stop it! Isn't it enough for you that I've lost the only man I'll ever love? Why must you torture me?"
"Have you heard a word I said, Girl?" Keeping my voice lowered was impossible. "You, your worries, your pain, your fun and games! No one else exists for you, do they?" God help me; my heart was breaking again. How could it break so many times? Would it break for everyone I loved?
She wailed wordlessly, hugging herself and rocking like a mourning gypsy woman.
When she finally settled, I asked wearily, "Miri-ange, do you know for certain whether there's a child?" I
"No…I don't know. I don't know! Papa, I'm afraid!"
"And well you should be, my Dear. I'm sorry, but I really cannot think of a thing to say which might console you, Mirielle. Have you thought at all about what you'll do?"
She was nonplussed. "Do?"
"Yes; where you'll go, what you'll do?" I repeated.
"But I want to stay here! Papa!"
"You should've thought about that before you let him screw you, and let all of Paris know it." I was sorry to speak so cruelly to Miri-ange, but it was time she understood the magnitude of her...error. Anyway, if I was brutal, it was nothing compared to what the rest of Paris would be.
-0-0-0-0-
I told Christine to start looking for someplace to send Miri-ange, just in case. She called me a heartless bastard and rushed next door to Manon. Of course Raoul and Manon knew about the painting, but we'd not included them in the rest of the drama. We had wanted to be sure just how much of a debacle it actually was before we shared it with everyone. Haha.
"My God." Raoul was paler than I'd ever seen him. "Erik, Erik, this is a disaster; it can't be."
I nodded. "I know, but what else can we do, Raoul? She's only one child." I passed my hand through my hair, exasperated. "Christine hates me; she thinks I'm abandoning the girl. Has she lost all good sense, Raoul? Doesn't she realize the position it puts us all in? What will become of our babies if we just accept her and her willful disregard for everyone? It's all my fault, all my fault; I should have been harder on her. I thought it was the boy I had to worry about, Raoul. I turned her into an impossible, selfish—"
"Stop. You're not helping anything by going into your misery. "
"Raoul. I need to know what they're saying about her; is she ruined?"
"There has been talk about the two of them," he admitted. "Some say there must be something between them. Others say no; but…"
"What? But what?" My aching heart went back to my throat. "Raoul, for God's sake!"
"Well, it's just that they're saying she's no artist if she's taken her clothing off."
I nodded, irritated, but not surprised. "Of course. God dammit!" I punched the table; not a wise idea. "Well. I can't worry about that now; nor can she. We just have to wait and see if she's got a little parting gift or not."
"Wuh—Erik, she can't …she can't, my daughters!"
"I know that, you cabbage head! Which is exactly why I told Christine we've got to figure out what to do with her. Ah, Raoul…"
"Hm?"
"You've been a tremendous friend to us, and I don't know what I'll do if it comes to it, but I want you to…do whatever you must for the good of your family," I choked. I couldn't let him ruin his name and the futures of his children for the sake of our friendship. We both knew that if the worst came to fruition, Christine and the children and I would have to leave Chagny/Rouen--and our friendship with the Chagnys--behind. "I'll understand; it won't change anything between us really. Promise me."
"I can't talk about this now, Erik; talk to me about it later."
-0-0-0-0-
"Papa?"
"Jeanette!" I smiled, fishing a chocolate from my waistcoat. She was not too old yet to fail to appreciate a chocolate from Papa, which delighted me. "Come, Child. Shall we play together?" I slid over on the piano bench. Her face was solemn; like all my children, she had her Mother's crinkly eyebrow frown whenever she was worried. "What is it, Angel?"
"Is Miri-ange sick?"
Oh, Jesus, no. Please no.
"Ahem, no…Angel; why? Have you noticed her being ill, or…" I couldn't finish.
"No. But everyone is talking quietly and I can tell that you and Mama are upset. Miri-ange is sad."
Children always know what is going on; the most we can hope for is that they will talk to us about what is worrying them. For our part, I think we must tell the truth as much as possible.
"Miri-ange has fallen in love with an unsuitable gentleman, Angel. They've broken it off, and she needs some time to grieve."
"But it's going to be alright," Jeanette stated. She slipped her hand inside mine, still confident that Papa could fix everything.
"Yes," I choked, "it's going to be alright."