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Chapter 10: Dear Diary

Finding Andante was not much of a problem. When Beaux delivered Meliah's crude note to the boy, he seemed more sympathetic than apprehensive. Beaux would rather have had Andante question his actions and pelt him with vicious words, than to have him so calm and innocuous.

There was something extremely unnerving about Andante's confidence that forced Beaux to use every ounce of his self-control in order to remain upright.

"Thank you," Andante said to him as he turned to leave the dowdy vendor, "For her." Andante spoke with genuine sincerity, but Beaux's conscience was unmoved.

He faced Andante, savoring the stupid innocence that brimmed in Andante's grey eyes. Beaux smiled and his voice became silky, "My pleasure."

As Beaux walked toward the sunlit Main Street, there was a definite spring in his step. The plan was working perfectly – no flaws, no glitches.

Friday. The last day before Meliah would disappear from Beaux's life. Supposedly…

Beaux arrived an hour before noon to deliver Andante's compliance. He hoped that he would be able to catch Meliah before lunch, and the two of them could share a normal afternoon together. Well, that is, as normally as a vampire could…

He had deprived himself of human blood for a full fortnight in order to unleash his hunger on his impending victim. It was not a risk he would generally take with Meliah, but his desire to see her again overwhelmed every one of his senses.

The kiss had confirmed everything he was fighting for: her soft lips, her sweet breath, her gentle fingertips, her flickering lashes, her everything… But what thrilled Beaux above all, was her fervent response. Could it be that despite everything she claimed she was succumbing to his passion? Or was she simply allured by curiosity? The way he touched her?

He convinced himself it was the former.

Beaux was ushered into the Lavoirsier mansion by a timid, young maidservant, who looked somewhat like a callow parrot. Her strange pink flesh seemed to offset her burgundy hair as she brought him to Meliah's bedroom on the second floor.

"She will be back soon," assured the maid with what she believed to be an attractive smile. The expression was so contrary to what her face was designed for that it looked more like a smirk than a sign of benevolence.

Nevertheless, Beaux graced the woman with a polite nod before stepping into the room. The open window at the opposite side extended the space into the gorgeous periwinkle skies. A welcome zephyr danced through the lacy curtains before coming to tickle Beaux's ear.

The maid glanced at him wistfully through her white eyelashes, her dull irises contracting as the sunlight glistened on his cold, white epidermis.

Beaux heard the maid let out a regretful sigh and caught a glimpse of her shaking her head. "What a waste," he thought she muttered.

The room was exactly as he remembered it – a pink, frilly, Rococo vision. And there it was, his music box, now accompanied by his tiara. Beaux walked over to Meliah's ornate vanity and let his hands graze the smooth cover of the music box before he flipped the top over.

Instantaneously, a sweet melody issued from its depths and Beaux found himself humming the tune absentmindedly. He inquisitively reached inside the box. A luxurious collection of rings, necklaces, and brooches temporarily distracted him from a simple, leather-bound book at the bottom.

"What's this?" he asked aloud as he casually flipped through the pages. He nearly dropped it when he saw Meliah's curly script across the white sheets. A diary, he realized, recording Meliah's thoughts!

Beaux was quite alarmed at the idea of impinging on Meliah's privacy. Greater yet, he was afraid of what he may discover. His hands clenched instinctively over the book's spine, and he was on the verge of returning the box to its container when he caught his name on one of the pages. His curiosity as to what Meliah thought about him superceded his moral restraints. One peek, his promised to himself.

Beaux's eyes greedily drank in the entry:

August 28th 1887

Afternoon

Papa invited one of his business partners to dinner today. I knew it was going to be a boring session – as usual – so I prepared a list of reasons why I shouldn't attend, but Mama wouldn't hear of it.

She wouldn't tell me who it was (not that I would have known anyway), and her attempts at secrecy were truly irritating! And she kept making a fuss over my dress and hair. She made me wear that superfluous white gown I received from Aunt May. This corset, by the way, is cutting off my air supply even as I write.

Oh, I believe that's her right now. I suppose the guest has arrived.

Later…

Where do I begin Diary? Mr. Beaux, my father's business partner, is hardly older than I am! I heard Papa just a minute ago. He is only nineteen! But he was so mature, so elegant, so breathtaking!

All right, let me explain. Here was I, waiting down at the entrance hall, expecting some old, wrinkly man to appear, when I see Beaux. Can you believe my surprise? A gorgeous boy (tall, thin, blonde, green-eyed) standing there! Mama was acting like a total fool; I was so embarrassed. Yet he was ever polite. I didn't let him kiss my hand though – I would feel like such a traitor.

He let me chat for quite a bit at dinner and even laughed at all my witty jests (I was so thankful!). He has a very attractive voice, too - soft and gentle, like the kind that girls swoon over in romance novels. Yet he had an intimidating habit of gazing deeply into my eyes as though he was looking through me. It was very unsettling – I felt so exposed! I hope he didn't notice me averting my eyes. I felt my pupils would burn up if he kept staring into them any longer!

So that was why Mama was so meticulous about my appearance! As if anyone as beautiful and influential as he is would ever be interested in such a normal, plain girl like me.

"Normal? Plain?" Beaux wondered incredulously. "What on earth are you talking about, love?"

Beaux snapped the diary shut, inwardly relishing Meliah's compliments. Then it was true, she was attracted to him. But his mind drifted to one word: "traitor." Had she already met Andante?

Before he knew what he was doing, Beaux was shifting through the diary once more, looking for the entry that would document her meetings with Andante. He found it quickly, for she, as he sadly realized, wrote much about Andante.

January 7th 1887

I went to the vendor again today. Mama was a little suspicious – it was snowing outside! Yet I managed to convince her I needed some fresh air since I have been cooped in the house for so long. I think this has been my twentieth visit since the end of November last year. Andante was working (of course!). I'm certain I must have spent a small fortune by now, trying to find some excuse to see his face. My goodness, the things a girl will do for love!

I tried to get his attention by feigning stupidity, which as a future notice, I will write, is a very bad tactic.

I think he was getting annoyed because when I asked him where the porcelain plates were for the third time in a row he let out a haughty sigh and pointed over to stack at the back with a very discourteous frown.

He didn't even say anything! Diary, what should I do? What if he hates me now?

January 12th 1887

Dear Diary,

I confessed to Andante today.

I tried to ease into a conversation by asking him questions about his work, but he just became more impatient. So I decided to jump right in (I probably sounded a tad aggressive, but in my defense, he had not been much of a gentleman).

"Andante," I finally said, "the truth is, I…I really like you. And I've been coming here for so long because...because I wanted to tell you that. I apologize if I bothered you."

I thought he would explode in my face, ranting about how silly and incompetent I was. But he did not. No, he smiled brilliantly and leaned against the side of a crate casually.

"Miss Meliah," he said, mocking my tone (but I clung to every syllable), "the truth is I really like you too."

I was overjoyed! "How come you did not say anything before?" I asked him quickly.

He shrugged (I honestly can not say where his confidence comes from!). "I wanted to hear you say it. I must say, I was getting tired of waiting," he said. And then leaned toward me until we were an inch apart and whispered, "May I call you 'Meliah' now?"

He was so adorable! I could hardly keep my breathing steady! "Of course," I replied raggedly.

Andante and Meliah – I like the sound of that…

Beaux found that the palms of his hands were slick with perspiration. He flipped towards the back of the book, keeping his eyes peeled for recent entries.
February 2nd 1888

Andante came late last night. He scaled two stories the way he always does (so flawlessly and so deftly), and I suddenly found him sitting calmly at the end of my bed with the most indescribable expression – as though he was afraid.

"What's wrong?" I asked, bolting out of my blankets to crawl into his lap. He bended forward suddenly and made an endeavor to kiss me, I believe. I pulled away just before his lips grazed mine. I don't know why I did that, but Andante looked hurt.

I was going to apologize when he got down unto his knees. I was so surprised – I thought he was going to start pleading with me and demand an explanation. Then he asked in his most startling voice, "Meliah, will you marry me?"

I said yes. What else could I have done without losing his trust?

February 4th 1888

Beaux visited today. Oh, Beaux, what am I to do with you?

His presence was completely unexpected. You see, I was in the middle of a personal crisis. Beaux, as beautiful as ever, sat there patiently as I hopelessly rambled from subject to subject. My poor heart – trying to figure out how to live!

He's right, I know. I'm not ready to go with Andante – not yet.

Oh, but Beaux is so cruel! He makes me churn inside. You can not imagine how much it hurts me to discuss this with him! And yet he breaks my resistance and makes me divulge all my insecurities. I love him so much, and every time I see his crestfallen face, I feel as though I'm committing some heinous crime – committing murder! I thought he would understand. I thought he would be happy for us.

And my darling Andante, my heart simply stops and loses all sense of reason when I think about him. How can I possibly tell him, I'm too selfish and frightened to risk everything?

P.S. Beaux kissed me again. He is the only man I've ever kissed, yet he is the only man I wish I never had.

Beaux read the entry over and over again, hoping to inculcate some part of it in his mind. She loves him.

He shocked himself when the ink began to smear; two thick teardrops had landed on the paper. Why was he crying?

He needed to find Meliah and try to change her mind – one last time before he resorted to force.

"Excuse me!" Beaux called after the maidservant who was mopping the floors of a neighboring room. "It's been two hours. Where is Miss Meliah?"

"Did I forget to mention?" she asked – clearly puzzled. "Miss Meliah went to have lunch with some fellow we met at the market. Who did he say he was? Oh yes, he introduced himself as Mister Vincent von Chatillon."

Beaux's voice became icy, "Vincent von Chatillon. You are sure?"

"Certainly," she replied.

What does he want with her? Beaux thought frantically.

He left the mansion without a word and headed to his estate.