Dear Faithfuls: Just a note to let everyone know that there will not be an update on Wednesday. Thank you for your kind indulgence….darned work, it is always getting in the way of all of my fun!
The man had made it into Chauesser as Andre had requested, but the trip had not been easy. In good weather the trip was no more than ten minutes by carriage, fifteen by sleigh. It had taken him nearly an hour and half. The surface of the snow was hard to gauge. In places it was solid, almost slippery from the melting upper layers. In places it was soft, the horse's hooves easily poking holes in them. He'd been careful, as he'd taken his favorite stallion, and had no want to injure the animal just to deliver a note. He was cold, his horse weary, and though he knew he had need to deliver the note as soon as possible, he had to stop for a brief respite, if for no other, then for the sake of the horse.
Arriving at the inn, he took the horse to the stable behind. The inn had been busy during the storm, but high tea was an even busier time there. He'd had half a mind to go to the mercantile instead, had it not been for the horse, he would have. The horse needed rest and warmth. No animal belonging to the Lady would be found neglected. He kicked at the post by the door before entering through the service entrance. He'd no want to return to the front, for he was only one, and had no need of a proper table for tea. A seat at the tavern rail was all that he would require.
The inn, as he'd anticipated was brimming and overflowing. There seemed to be a happy bustle moving through the crowded room. The last seat at the corner of the long bar was vacant. He sat down next to a rather sullen looking young man. A simple nod provided him a pot of tea, and a small plate of fruit preserves and a trio of petite scones. They were still warm from the oven, coated with a lovely golden crust and coarsely granulated sugar. It was a welcome treat having been out in the damp cold, which he found far more penetrating than a simple chill from a wind.
"Pardon me sir, would you be so kind as to pass me the cream?"
The young man barely looked up, his sullen expression unchanged as he pushed the silver tea service with cream and lumps of sugar toward him. Several people at the bar scowled at him, the behavior was rather rude by any standard. One lifted and passed, not shoved across as if they were still barbarians.
"Thank you," said the man scowling at him slightly. The poor boy, he assumed must be having a terrible day. "A fly in your tea sir?" He tried to make polite conversation. After all he was nearly pinned in the corner next to him, with no hope of striking up a conversation with anyone else. The young man only nodded. At least he was not deaf, a promising sign.
"Everyone is certainly excited today, no doubt pent up giddiness from being kept indoors by the storm." The man took a bite of his scone, washing it down with a gulp of tea.
The young man looked up at him, there was little hope now that the man would be quite. He only wanted to be left alone. He'd a decision to make. He'd not want to lose his apprenticeship, nor did he want to harass the citizens of Chauesser for information, least of all a customer in good standing, and a new citizen at that. He loathed the cheeriness of the gabbling of the man next to him. He needed time for thoughts. Surely a curt answer would dissuade any further conversation. "No sir, a dead man, Crawlings to be exact is what they celebrate."
The man nearly dropped his cup of tea. "What?"
The young man sighed. "Crawlings is dead, the last of the bloodline they're sure. Killed yesterday by some aristocrat in Paris. Word just arrived on the sleigh that came from there to the mercantile. That good sir, is what they are celebrating." The young man looked down at his tea. The shot of scotch he'd had the man behind the bar put in it had done little to relieve his anxiety.
"How very fortunate sir, how very fortunate indeed. The Lady will be exceedingly pleased to hear of it." He was suddenly feeling rather smart for having stopped for a rest and tea. One never knew what tid-bit of information one might glean from informal social gatherings.
The young man was temporarily distracted by the man's words. "The Lady? Do you mean your wife sir?" Certain that he was merely being polite to call her such.
The man took another bite of his scone, this time swimming in strawberry preserves. "No sir," he wiped at the corners of his mouth, "Lady C sir. I am here at her behest. I've a note to deliver, but stopped in to rest my horse and take a cup of tea."
The young man's eyes lit for the first time in hours. What fortune he had. If anyone could be of help to him now, it was Lady C. He'd heard through the grapevine that she'd a dislike for the undertaker, and perhaps, with her help, though he did not even know what to ask, he could somehow find a way out of this sticky wicket. "Lady C? Well then sir, I apologize for having treated you so rudely. I dare say I've the highest respect for the woman. It just so happens that this could be a most fortuitous meeting sir." He extended his hand. "My name is David Chenier, I work for…"
"Yes, yes, I recognize you. I recall seeing you at the service for my wife last year sir." The man looked down at his folded hands. Suddenly remembering the winter funeral.
"And you sir?" The tide of the conversation changing; suddenly an interest had grown in the young man.
The man looked up at him, blinking. "How terribly rude of me," he extended his hand shaking the young man's. "I am Patrick Bizet. I am but a liaison for Andre, I believe you may have had an encounter with him?"
"Yes, yes, I've had opportunity to work with him on many occasions." He paused, removing the smile from his face. Surely frequent visits to an undertaker was not something to be pleasant about. He grew serious. "Sir, I know I've but made your acquaintance, but I wonder if you might share something with the Lady, perhaps quite discretely if it were possible, and no names need be mentioned." David was looking around to see if anyone was paying attention. Feeling assured he looked at Patrick.
"Yes of course, what is it that you require?" He was certain there was some need the young man had. He'd heard Andre unburdening himself in the kitchens after nearly every trip into Chauesser. There was always some sad story of woe he was to carry back to Lady C. for a citizen of the City. He sighed, he'd be patient and polite, as Andre had always claimed to be in those situations.
"Sir, it is not for me, per say, as much in the name of right and wrong." David was again looking around to see if anyone might be listening.
Patrick looked at him, "I'm not certain I understand."
"You see sir, I am in my last year of my apprenticeship with the undertaker. I've been biding my time until I could receive my certificate, and now to be so close and have threat of losing it…"
Patrick looked at him. He was more confused now than before David had begun.
"Sir, I've been asked to do something…something, I dare say intrusive, with our new family to Chauesser." He leaned forward whispering as quietly as he could. "You see, the undertaker is concerned about Monsieur Courtland. He finds it quite odd that he'd be found with two dead women in a month's time, and he's asked me to do a bit of probing. I'm to deliver a note there if not today, then surely on the morrow, or suffer the consequences of failing to do as he asks."
Patrick turned to look at him, leaning closer. "He bids you do what?"
"Sir, I've no want to cause problems, neither do I want to hurt an innocent man, nor sully my own reputation for being respectful. If I do not deliver the note and be a bit of an inquisitor, I'm likely to lose my position there." He looked down. "While I am a young man, I've no want to start over again in six years of service to another undertaker."
Patrick shook his head. "That man has been a thorn in the sides of this City for as many years as he has been here. It is simply too bad that we've not been able to attract any others, but alas, no one wants to be this close, yet this far from Paris, where business is always plentiful." He scratched at his chin. "Did you say you were to deliver a note there sir?"
David shook his head. "Yes, I'm to do so by the morrow or suffer the consequences." He looked down again, the sullen look beginning to return.
"It just so happens, my new friend, I'm to make that very journey myself. The business of Lady C's that I'm to tend to, it is the delivery of a note to said household!" He smiled at David. "What say you and I make the trip together. We can keep one another company, and perhaps have a bit longer chat about that employer of yours."
David, lifted his cup, nodding towards Patrick. "Sir, I should be most honored. I've need to return to the parlor to retrieve the note, but could be back within the hour, ready to make the trip. Does that meet with your approval?"
Patrick nodded. "I sir should find this to be a suitable arrangement. I shall stay for the remainder of my tea, and await your return."
David was on his feet, a smile, and a glimmer of renewed hope in his eye. He nodded. "I'll return within the hour sir." He paused after he put on his cloak. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Patrick smiled, "the pleasure is all mine sir. Lady C is a most fair and prudent woman. I am certain she will take interest in resolving this matter swiftly."
The men smiled once more, David departed, and Patrick returned to his tea. Yes, a most fortuitous meeting indeed.
XXXX
Erik was awake; his feet already on the floor when Erphan knocked on the doorframe. "Monsieur?"
"Do come in Erphan, I trust you've news for me."
Erphan pushed the heavy curtain aside entering the room. "Monsieur, yes, I've some news. You've a decision to make based on what I've to share with you. Please know that whatever your choice, JP is ready to travel to the winter house, with or without out us Monsieur."
"And you Erphan, what are you ready for?" Erik inquired though he thought he likely knew the answer.
"I Monsieur, will do whatever you bid me do." Erphan said resolutely.
Erik smiled, he'd already made up his mind. "Very well then sir, what have you to say of the possibilities of travel?"
Erphan looked at Erik, "may I Monsieur?" Motioning toward the chair in the corner.
Erik nodded, "by all means, you must be weary." Erik watched his every reaction closely. If he were to be groomed, Erik would pay particular attention to those things that adversaries might use against him. Those were the things that took a long while to learn and often betrayed any words that one used.
"No Monsieur, I worry only of being overheard." Erphan said as he drew the chair next to where Erik sat on the divan.
Erik looked at him. "So what know you of the paths from this place?"
"Monsieur, it was as you suspected. The streets behind the seamstress shop have yet to be tended. In places we found they'd actually pushed some of the snow from the busier streets to those behind making the mounds there even larger. The alleyway directly behind this building Monsieur, I think must be traveled by no others, we saw nary a print or evidence of a sleigh rail having passed near here."
Erik smiled, it was in part, the reason he felt so comfortable there.
"Beyond that Monsieur, I can only rely upon what others that traveled in from the countryside have made mention of."
"You inquired with someone about traveling out of the City?" Erik would not indicate now lest he discourage Erphan, but direct questions about traveling out of a city was never a help to being able to do so undetected.
"No Monsieur, would that not have made our departure more difficult?" Suddenly Erphan was questioning his own judgment. "I had thought to listen was far better, since in taverns none has serious conversation with strangers. Nearly all they feel benign enough to discuss freely is travel and weather. One only have need to be a good listener to learn what one needs." Erphan glanced at Stephan, hoping that his explanation would excuse his behavior if it were incorrect, though in his gut it felt right.
Erik smiled at him, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. "No Erphan, it is just what I would have done." Erik could say the words without reservation, for in truth he was rather proud of the boy.
Erphan smiled, though he wanted to be serious and appear not to be flattered, he could not help himself. If he could emulate anyone in his life right now, it would be the man before whom he sat. He nodded.
"I heard that in the direction of DeChagny Manor, the paths have yet to return to the true roads, though they are barren of snow in a number of places. They say it is difficult to tell if it is due to the natural regression of the snows, or from the great number of people who've traveled that path in the last several days as the temperatures have warmed. They say that travel by carriage will be the only option to them on the morrow in that direction, though they worry for the mud. Some, having been cooped up so from the storm, have been seeking rooms in Paris, determined to spend a few days in the City. Yet others were going to attempt to return in that direction yet this evening." Erphan knew why the hoi polloi would travel, paying homage to the Vicomte, though Erphan thought Stephan would have little interest in such gossip.
Erik nodded his head. "I see. And in the other direction…the direction of Chauesser?"
Erphan smiled. "It is unfortunate, not many conversations were heard of travel from that direction, with the exception of two. Both had said they were exceedingly pleased to have made it into Paris that night for they worried that they may not have had they stayed along the way. The second was a large merchant who worried for the several delivery sleighs he'd sent off to cities in that direction. One can assume some might have indeed been bound for Chausser, though he did not state as much specifically."
Erik nodded his head. "Had they been overdue?"
Erphan shook his head. "No Monsieur, but he did mention if they'd not returned by the supper hour, he would assume they'd not be bringing the sleighs with them, but rather leaving them somewhere and returning by horse alone."
"I see," Erik said rubbing at his chin. He could not subject Christine to the possibility of an extended ride on horseback, neither could he take the risk that the sleigh become stranded. He looked resolutely at Erphan. "Sir, to what inn or tavern had you traveled to where you had opportunity to hear this merchant speak?"
"It was…" Erphan stopped, as Erik rose his hand.
"Please return there." Erik reached into the pocket of his jacket that laid across the end of the divan, retrieving a sum of bills. "I want you to find some item that you can purchase, that might be had at the merchant's shop. I trust you can find out who he was?" Erik looked at Erphan, a seriousness in his eyes.
"Yes Monsieur, I can," he nodded in affirmation.
"Very well, then go you to his shop, and in course of conversation find the man, or his manager, and ask casually of the sleigh's return. When you've found the information, return to me, and we shall decide then. In the meanwhile, suggest that JP ready the sleigh as if we were to depart, for with your return, a swift decision will have need to be made."
Erphan took the bills, tucking them into his leather pouch. "I shall do as you bid me sir." He walked toward the door, turning around as he reached it. "Is there anything that I might bring for you sir?"
Erik smiled, "no Erphan, that will be all." Erik in truth was curious about Christine's progress, but decided he was feeling well enough now to check on this himself.
XXXXXX
She laughed, "one really ought not find humor in such debauchery, but I must tell you, we'd no intentions, but somehow, we found ourselves, each a glass in hand, raising a toast to the coolness of the cellar!" She laughed a bit more. "Before long the bottle was empty, and he'd uncorked a second. We sat in that cellar until what we would find to be later as sunrise. The laughter! Oh my!" A great laugh rising from her belly. "Conversation ran the gambit from politics, to authors, to the paintings he'd done." The woman paused. "That very subject I dare say we spent quite a long while on."
Christine smiled, she'd not seen the humor in it all, and what had led the woman to her raucous laughter Christine couldn't really be sure. "What subject?" She asked.
"Well you of course!" The woman smiled widely. "You see my dear I asked him what it was about this girl, this woman, no face?" She began to giggle, then her face turned serious. "He told me he could never paint your face, for you'd never given him your permission to intrude." She sipped her tea. "You see that night we laughed, we cried, and we laughed again. I think the fruit of the vine put down a few of his carefully constructed walls my dear." She sipped her tea again and put the cup down in the saucer. "He said he could not paint your eyes for they were far too beautiful to portray with mere paint, that he would have needed dust from the stars in the heavens to light them to do them any justice. And your lips," the woman paused.
Christine smiled at her, was the woman blushing?
"He said your lips were perfect half moons, round and plump, and the color of the first budding pink tulip of spring. He said he could not paint lips that had not been kissed, for it would drive him mad with jealousy if anyone craved them if they saw them." She laughed, "my dear, that night I heard the whimpering of a love-sick puppy. Normally he was quite reserved, but that night, oh how he rambled!"
She reached out and took Christine's hand. "You see my dear, that night I told him that he should take all of those feelings and put them into music, that he could both rid himself of the suffering, and make quite a tidy little sum. All the taverns and the like craved new music, and if he could make something that no one had heard before, he'd certainly be all the wealthier for it!"
Christine gasped, Erik sell his music for a profit? She thought not…it was far too personal, far too… "So what did you do then?"
The woman began to laugh again. "He stood and began to sing for me, one of the songs that you inspired, something about a ripened apple, a muse, oh and some other thing, it was all very lovely, very lovely….until he decided to teach me…." She began to laugh again. "He was going to teach me to sing!"
Christine was laughing, not from the woman's words, but her actions, she was nearly broken up with laughter.
"We struck a bargain. I would teach him how to thread a needle and sew a button, and he would teach me to sing. So up the stairs we went, retrieving thread and needle, buttons, and a plate of gingersnaps. Somehow we ended up opening a third bottle of wine in the cellar, having once again retreated there to the take solace in the cool air." The woman grinned madly, leaning toward Christine whispering, "it wasn't a fair bargain at all, I didn't tell him I was tone deaf!"
Christine smiled from ear to ear, nearly so far her cheeks hurt. To a musician, hearing a voice that has neither tone nor proper note, was akin to hearing someone running their fingernails over a slate board. "So how did this play out?"
The woman laughed, "to be entirely honest, I have to tell you that I remember only bits and pieces of it. What I do remember quite clearly was Stephan humming, then singing. Later I remember him covering his ears, shaking his head, and the next I knew he had his hand over my mouth begging me to stop through his laughter, though I recall the pain in his face." She grinned, "it was quite apparent I was not a worthy pupil!"
She shook her head, a waive of laughter started again. "We both fell asleep in the cellar, leaned up against the wall, blankets behind us. He was the first to wake, and in truth it was his grumblings that woke me from a dead and painful sleep. When I'd managed to open my eyes, if my head had not hurt before, it soon felt like a splitting melon!" The woman laughed again. "You see my dear…" she bent over slightly slapping at her leg, "you see, I kept my end….my end of the bargain…I did teach him to sew."
Christine was laughing along with the woman, reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder.
"He'd…he'd…sewn an entire….an entire…" she laughed so heartily that tears ran down her cheeks, "oh my…he'd sewn an entire package of buttons….to his shirt!"
Christine was laughing now full heartedly. "Surely not…" she paused, thinking the question to make the answer all the more humorous, "surely not the shirt that he was wearing!"
The woman was nodding her head, "yes, and several more to his pants as well!"
XXXXX
Erik stretched to his full height on the divan. He had want to change into a fresh set of clothes, and yet not before he had chance to bathe. He could tell as much by his garments as his head that his fever had broken. He'd no idea what the woman mixed together in the brew, but whatever it was, it was worth suffering through drinking a pot of it. Now all that was left was an overwhelming tired, and the occasional sniffle.
The divan was far more comfortable than he'd remembered. He smiled. Nay, perhaps it was he that was far more comfortable on it then when last he'd lain there. He closed his eyes. The world was a far different place then when he'd paid his last visit.
The last visit he remembered well. He had been so unsettled, and she had been so reassuring. Her words resonating in his mind as if he was there yet again.
"Love knows no time table, it is but water rushing through a broken dam. Though you may slow it, channel it even, and try to put up a new dam, in time, love, true love, will find its way."
His brow drew in as he recalled his own words. "But what of forbidden love…unrequited love…love that is never clearly expressed…what of that sort of love." He smiled, she had been so patient.
"Love is love. Even if it is never known by the object of our affections, it does not diminish what we feel. That is the purest love…love for which we've no hope of ever having returned to us. When we love someone enough to allow them to be free…free from the knowledge we love them…because we want them to have a far better life…that is to truly love."
Erik's lips trembled, he swallowed hard. Oh how those words had cut him through. He'd shed tears over those words a number of times since she'd spoken them. It was in those moments when he had courage to face those words, that he'd nearly left Christine. If he truly loved her, he had to step back, step away, until she no longer sought him. Though she'd been like heroine to him, and try though he might he could not stop watching her.
One stretch of days, after a night of soul-searching he'd resolved to have a final lesson, and then disappear from her…it was the only way. He recalled that pitiful practice. He had been impatient as she'd tried to settle down. She'd had a rather exciting day with Meg and a few of the other girls. They'd gone shopping, and lunch, as they were all permitted to do for good behavior. Whenever she returned from those outings she'd never focus properly. He was frustrated when she'd drop a note, or when she began looking at the clock. True, practice had gone on for more than usual, and a great deal of review had been done.
He sensed her eagerness to finish, and it had hurt him. Didn't she know how important this practice was…her final practice…their final practice? Of course she did not, he'd chastised himself. He'd ended the lesson with the usual admonitions about rest and diet, drinking plenty of water, and remembering to breath from her abdomen as much as she could. When the lesson was finished he watched as she walked away, back up the stairs, the light of the candle disappearing from view, leaving there, darkness as his only companion.
He'd wept bitterly that night, sleeping in his coffin rather than watching her from the rafters. He would try to stay away from her. The first day he'd managed to occupy himself with tidying and sorting his work in the grotto. The second day was a bit more difficult, his resolve was weakening. By the third day he'd rationalized in his mind that continuing to watch her would do no harm. It was the third day that had done him in. As he followed, and she wandered from chapel, to library, to flower garden, searching, calling to him. It was sheer torture. By the sixth day she'd grown sullen, barely eating, incessantly gabbling to the other chorus girls about things of little matter. She cried herself to sleep at night. But what pained him most was to hear her whimper in her sleep, mumbling "what did I do, tell me…"
He could not take it. On the evening of the seventh day, weakened, having never been able to leave her for more than a few hours, he finally spoke. He smiled recalling the moment…oh how pleased she had been, her angel had returned. She'd cried, promising to be a dutiful student, an obedient pupil. Oh how painful it had been…how he'd longed to hold her. He pitied her, and loathed himself for it. If he truly loved her…why couldn't he walk away, let her have a normal life?
He lay on the divan, exhausted from the sheer memory of it. It had pained him to the core. The guilt all that long while had eaten away at him. He sighed, his eyebrow twitching. It had not occurred to him until that moment. Love had indeed found its way just as the woman had said. What a paradox, that though he loved Christine so much he'd wanted to let her go, he'd loved her enough to never let go. In his weakness he'd found the strength to hold on…for if he had not…none of this…this wonderful love…would have ever come to pass!
Erik turned his head, a wide smile crossing his face. He'd heard that laugh. The wonderful, sweet, innocent laugh that belonged to one woman alone.
He stretched once more, swinging his feet to the side of the bed. In that awkward position he felt a strange tug in his mid-section. He ran his hand over that part of his abdomen. It was the entry wound of the bullet from months before. Every now and again it was tender when he pushed on it, but today was the first time that it had hurt. Perhaps he had slept on it wrong, or all the riding on the horse the last week had been difficult. He felt a catch in his side as he stood. He would not baby it, nor would he over exert it. He longed all the more for time spent at leisure once they'd returned to Courtland Manor. He heard the laugh again. Whatever it was that tickled Christine so, he'd wander and find out.
XXXX
The two women were laughing so hard that neither had noticed the shadow cast by the man standing in the doorway.
"Surely that is not the most humorous story we've to tell her my dear lady! And in my defense, you'd been the one handing me the buttons!" Erik said, leaning against the arch, arms folded across his chest.
Christine and the woman startled, and though they felt somewhat guilty, even that did not dissuade their laughter.
"Oh my dear husband, do not worry…I can sew buttons…" she was laughing as she rose going to Erik slipping her arms about his waist, nestling her head in his chest.
Erik put his arms around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. "Only the love of a wife would allow for such tolerance my dear. I fear my fever has broken, and now I am utterly unworthy of your affections in this state. I shall relish a bath when we return home."
Christine turned looking up into Erik's eyes, smiling widely as he looked down into hers. "I told you before, my love for you is not what I see when my eyes are open, but what my heart feels when my eyes are closed." She stretched up slightly taking his lips into hers just briefly.
"Ah sir, you are right…she is a romantic at heart!" The woman smiled in the direction of their voices.
"Did I not tell you she was wonderful?" Erik said to the woman as he scooped Christine up into his arms returning to the stool, placing her carefully on his lap. "Now dear lady, let us tell her a story of yours! Perhaps about the woman who thought she might pay for a dress with lambs…and she brought them to the shop, and they'd gotten loose, nibbling on your fabrics as I recall."
"That story was not funny young man, it took me weeks to trim off all that those little monsters did to my workshop! It was not funny in the least! You thought that to be humorous did you?"
Erik was laughing now too. "Humorous yes! Watching you chase down the lamb, pulling it by its tail….telling it you'd have lamb chops and a new wool sweater if he'd not cooperate!"
Soon they were all laughing. Tale after tale, coming out about the times they'd spent together. Somewhere during the next hours Christine took the opportunity to emblazon in her mind the glances, the laughter, the pats to the hand, the arm around the shoulder. This woman had given Erik far more than a place to recluse to when the Opera House became too much.
She looked back and forth between them as the kerosene lamp was lit, the cheeses and meats, breads and yes, a bottle of wine from the cellar laid across the table. There were several times that Christine was certain they'd not even known she was in the room.
The woman had given Erik hope in humanity. She had come to see him with her heart and not her eyes. Finally in the world, there was another person who could understand how she had loved him all those years…when her sight of him was no better than the woman's. She'd taught him to love, and in turn he'd given her the gift of his undivided attention, and help, much like a son would have. No doubt the bond was strong, for the look in Erik's eyes was vulnerable, relaxed, and content.
Erik glanced over at Christine, a tear was in the corner of her eye. "Whatever is it my dear?" A concerned look coming over him.
"I was just thinking, that right at this moment, there is no where on this earth that I would want to be then here with the two of you."
Erik kissed her cheek. "I couldn't agree with you more." Erik smiled, and he could almost feel something inside of him growing, or melting…perhaps it was the ice of self protection that had he'd so carefully fashioned around his heart. With these two women, he could be himself."
XXXX
She sat patiently by the window looking out at the City as the afternoon began to wane. Why had the man not yet returned? She sighed. Perhaps she was far too impatient, it had only been a little more than four hours, and even in good weather it would have taken the lion's share of the afternoon to accomplish his assignment.
She turned away from the window. She felt as if she'd spent half of her life waiting by that window, waiting for one man or another to return. She lifted the book again. She was checking over the lists. She'd poured over the details with Andre, but something felt to be missing. She sighed. Perhaps it was the nagging thought that she'd yet to find some way, some visible way that would both honor their new town hero, but not be too ostentatious so as to insult him, and drive him further from the position she one day hoped to encourage him to take.
What would it be? She paced back and forth on the floor. It would have to be something that all would share in common. Something wealth had no bearing on. Yet it needed to something that would inspire, something that would remind the citizens of the deeds he'd done…and as importantly, what they could accomplish if they'd but allow themselves to have the courage to do so. Oh, it eluded her, that one perfect thing eluded her.
Xxxxxx
Erphan was on his way back from the shop. It had taken a long time to do this one simple task. He'd had the news Monsieur Courtland was interested in. He'd had to listen to hours of dribble about a local hero Vicomte Raoul DeChagny. He'd not even known what the man looked like, but knew instantly, anyone who had to do something for such attentions would be an unattractive person, no matter what his flesh looked like. The news would be shared now, and the chips would fall wherever they may. To travel from Paris would be precarious, to not travel could be even more so.