Thanks to my reviewers. You give me courage and insight. If you read, please review for me. XXOO. - Leeesainthesky
Ch. 3 - Gabrielle's crystal ball:
Re-cap: In the last chapter Erik discovered a strange woman in his old underground home. She claimed to be a time traveler. Not one to dispel the bizarre, he believed her. What he found hard to believe was her revelation that he will be quite popular in centuries to come…
"I am him."
My mouth dropped open and I gawked at Erik as if I was a kid and he was a Christmas pony.
"Erik DuPuis ...no freaking way!" I shook my head as if the motion would clear my confused mind. "Could I really have been shot through the 4th dimension, only to be deposited at the feet of one of the greatest contemporary composers of the19th century; the man behind Le Femme de Norvège, and Requiem for a shattered soul?"
"Incredible."
Erik stared at me suspiciously. "How could you know about Le Femme de Norvège? The opera is only in my head, waiting for transference onto parchment."
"Oh Monsieur, you have no idea; It's dark melodies and searing passion have made your opera a classic. In fact, there is a popular Rock Opera version accompanied with a multi platinum-selling soundtrack. Were you alive in 2005, your royalties would be in the millions."
He raised his visible eyebrow at me. "You lie."
"Now don't be rude, I'd have to be a genie or clairvoyant to make up stuff like that Monsieur. You know, I think I actually have a copy of the original score stored on my IPOD. Here, hold this." I handed him the notebook while I searched my luggage for the player.
"Ta da! I've got it, I've got it," I sung gleefully like a schoolgirl. He eyed the gadget as if it were a live scorpion.
"Erik, here let me put these on your ears, they're headphones so you can listen to your music in private." I stuck them on in spite of his weak protests and played the selection from his opera.
Time froze as I watched the intimidating man's face melt with a soft, quizzical expression. He closed his eyes and listened for a good 10 minutes before pulling the headphones down from his ears. We looked at each other in reverent silence.
Finally, I spoke. "Amazing isn't it Erik?"
His elbows were propped on the arms of the massive throne chair with his hands in the church-and-steeple position; he rested his index fingers against his lips.
"A life like rendering indeed, however the aria requires a more subtle treatment—too much instrumentation clutters up the singer's tender passion." He critiqued.
Erik remained silent for several more minutes; his mind appeared to be far away. Eventually here-surfaced. "An amazing marvel indeed, but then much of my life has been truly bizarre."
"A lot happened in the 20th century Monsieur, it has been called the century of the industrial revolution. More innovations were made in that century than any other in history. The horseless carriage, flying machines, personal electricity for lights and household items, buildings that reach over 100 stories into the sky, men on the moon, and so much more that it would take quite a while to explain all of it," I enthused.
Erik's quick and debauched mind ticked away at an idea. He was a brilliant inventor, if this girl indeed had knowledge of the future, she could be of use to him.
He cocked his head and smiled warmly, "It would be a considerable pleasure to hear about the amazing inventions of your time. Perhaps you'll enlightenment sometime, Mlle."
"Sure thing, I would like to whenever you have the time, of course there are some things that I could never divulge. Knowing all that I know could risk an inadvertent altering of the universe. The scientific communities that my father associates his work with believe such actions would be unethical. I tend to agree. One seemingly well intentioned warning could lead to a string of cataclysmic events," I explained.
Erik eyed me quizzical as he stood from the throne, "Being from the future, as you claim to be, please explain the reason why you are dressed so…scantily. Prostitutes on the streets of Paris have on more than you do child. You're indecent, no wonder you shiver so."
"Bite me!" I shot back, insulted by the masked man's appraisal of my haute couture.
Again, his unnerving smirk appeared.
"A strange request Mademoiselle—I mean no harm. Our ladies wear significantly more than what you are wearing Gabrielle, not that I find your manner of dress unappealing."
He offered me his hand, "Besides dear, you are shivering. Come, I believe I can find a cloak for you to cover up with. We will have to venture into the streets of Paris eventually and I do not think it wise for you to draw unwanted attention."
He was correct in assessing my physical reaction to the cold underground air. I had been wearing goose bumps for sometime now and was nearly numb. I grabbed his hand and balanced on unsteady feet.
He led me to a small bedroom area where a mahogany armoire stood. Inside there appeared to be many lavish Victorian dresses. He dug through the garments, finally pulling out a midnight blue silk cloak
"This will do, it is not too heavy for the summer evening. I'll need to venture up into the Opera house for additional garments. Unfortunately the woman who once wore these clothes was a bit smaller than you and not quite as, if you'll pardon me, as endowed."
I could have sworn I saw him ogle my frame, just for an instant. Should I be insulted or flattered?
There is still costume storage upstairs. You should fit into some of La Carlotta's old things. Now I shall be a few moments as it takes a while to ascend into the upper floors since a previous fire weakened the structure. Make yourself comfortable in the house while you wait—do not wander."
I sat on the antique bed and nodded mutely as if surrendering my affairs to him.
Erik swiftly disappeared into the gloom. I had no desire to lose myself in this vast darkness, but I began to fidget with boredom. What could the man have been doing here in the first place? This appears to be a sort of underground abode. Had he actually lived here? Maybe the composer is eccentric and wealthy—this creepy place could have been his love nest for trysts with singers or dancers. I rose from the bed and began to explore the area. There were steps that led to a dilapidated old pipe organ.
Musical scores were strewn about along with candlesticks, busts and other curious knick-knacks. Picking up one of the parchments, I discovered E. DuPuis signed at the top of each page. These must be Erik's original compositions.
Good lord, these would be worth thousands of dollar, if not more, back in my day. I stared at the extraordinary living piece of history in my hands. Real, this is real, this is here and this is now…or more accurately then.
My breathing had become shallow as I grappled with the enormity of this situation. A wee voice in my head urged me to fold the thing up and slip it into my handbag.
No Gab don't, that would be stealing. Stealing what—stealing something obviously discarded in a century that was not my own? I stashed the parchment in my purse.
Erik's returning footsteps triggered a spike of adrenaline to run through me. "You do not obey orders very well do you Mlle," he scolded tersely in his perfect voice.
"Oh, I…needed to stretch a bit. As you see I didn't go far Monsieur," I responded, hoping I did not look guilty of any petty thievery.
"No matter, I have retrieved some frocks for you my dear, I'll pack them away for you then can depart. Tonight you will return with me to my manor. Tomorrow we can discuss other arrangements, if it pleases you Mlle."
"You're the boss applesauce," I threw up my hands while he cast me a strange glance.
I wondered silently where his manor was, and once there, did he intend to do me harm? I was in a foreign century in a foreign country with no means of looking after myself. I was at his mercy.
My luck, he's probably a psycho-killer, I mussed silently.
Erik helped me into the cloak. "Most of your containers will pass on the streets of Paris, but we will have to transfer whatever you have in the one with the wheels into one of my satchels."
"What, the wheel hasn't been invented yet in France"?
"Too modern, he replied ignoring my sarcasm."
We stuffed everything from my small suitcase into a large brown leather satchel, securing it with straps. Erik handed it to me while he picked up the large suitcase belonging to my sometime fiancé, Tony. Holding his lamp out in front of him, he instructed me to say close and to not stray lest I become lost and injure myself in the tunnels of the labyrinth. I stayed so close to the tall man, I could feel the soft fabric of his cloak's hood against my let cheek. I made damn sure not to lose contact with the clothing.
Through the endless maze of halls and stairs we went. The light was barely bright enough to see and I wondered how Erik could navigate through the pitch-blackness. Finally emerging at a street entrance with a massive iron gate, I smelled the aroma of fresh baked goods and coffee. My ears were met with the click of horse's hooves, rolling wheels and voices of people speaking French. Erik hesitated before unlocking the gate that led into a cobblestone street.
"Stay close to me, avoid eye contact, and speak to no one." He instructed. "My carriage is at the livery only two streets away. From there we will head out of Paris. My manor is past the edge of the city where it becomes country. You will be safe there until we can figure out a more suitable plan for you."
"I take it you don't have a wife waiting for you at home who wouldn't take to kindly to you dragging stray women home with you"? I observed.
He swung around and scowled at me, "Hardly Mlle. I have two servants who live on the property, an older couple who are related to an old and dear friend of mine. Henri and Marie will do as I say—they will ask nothing."
His expression relaxed somewhat, "You also needn't worry about my intentions toward you. I only wish to help you. Besides, I am curious to learn more of the future."
The great gate creaked open and we stepped into the Paris evening.
The bustling street scene astounded me. There were peddlers selling wares, couples walking arm in arm, carriages dashing through the narrow lane and laughter ringing out from nearby café's. I was in the romantic city of light 1876 and I was mesmerized by what I saw. Occasionally I would spy a beggar or prostitute working their trade.
Fear and curiosity battled for control over me. Obeying my handler's advice, I made eye contact with no one and clung anxiously to his side. Turning left onto a smaller street, I could see the livery up ahead. There were stalls and many carriages 'parked' in front of a dark wooden building.
As we approached the building a large hairy man in a dirty apron greeted Erik, "Will you be needing your rig now M. DuPuis? I'll have Andre ready it for you; won't be but a moment." He hollered instructions at someone in the back of the barn who I assumed to be Andre.
"Don't move," Erik instructed me strictly as he approached the man in the apron. I could not hear their conversation but I observed Erik reaching into his waistcoat pocket to withdraw currency, which he then passed on to the man.
A black brougham carriage soon appeared from the tunnel leading to what I assumed was the back of the stable. There were two large bay horses yoked into the harness.
Erik placed my baggage into the back compartment, then opened the door and helped me into the dark interior.
"Our trip should only take about and hour, rest if you are able Mlle." He closed the door.
I then felt the carriage shift slightly to the left, creaking under the man's weight. I assumed he had climbed aboard the driver's seat.
Twilight had descended upon Paris and I was barley able to discern much from the carriage's small window. There were gas lamps lighting the boulevards and many people milling about. The cobblestone streets caused for a bumpy ride, but I was so tired from my previous trans-century travels that I nodded off within ten minutes.
Something pulled me out of my stupor because I awoke with a start. The carriage had slowed considerably. I noticed shadowy shapes in the dark that could have been trees and shrubs. A half moon cast a muted glow over apparent fields. Obviously we had left the city for the country some while back. Hadn't Erik said he lived just outside the city? I presumed that we must be near his home.
The carriage made a slow right turn and I noticed that we were descending a long narrow driveway of sorts lined with trees. I heard Erik softly click at the horses and felt the rig bounce to a stop. We must be here I thought to myself. Apprehension filled my gut. How will this turn out? Wouldn't it be the best tragic comedy if I had just traveled 130 some years into the past only to be abducted, raped and murdered by a helpful stranger? I mussed.
Good god Gabriel, you've read too many horror novels I scolded myself.
Erik's weight left the front of the carriage and I soon heard the voice of an older man.
"Good evening M. DuPuis, how did the city treat you"?
"Nothing out of the ordinary M. Roux, however I did pick up a passenger. A friend of my partner's, you know M. Mangeot my architectural helper in England? His niece needs a place to stay while she is here."
Ah ha! So that's the story morning glory, I smiled to myself. Should be interesting how this saga unfolds.
I tugged on the door handle but couldn't figure out how to open the darn thing; I felt a reciprocal tug and the carriage door opened abruptly. Erik was standing on the other side.
"How was your ride Mademoiselle?" He inquired while offering me a gloved hand. I hopped down, catching the cloak on something inside.
"Bumpy. Hey, I uh— I think the cloak is caught on something."
Erik peered around me to find the offending item. He yanked at the skirt's hem, freeing the voluminous garment.
"I'll have to have M. Roux look at that. There appears to be a rough piece of metal there on the doorframe," he said while he ran his hand over a small protrusion on the side of the door.
I fell forward and landed on Erik. He had no time to react so I ended up pressed into him, breast first.
"Opps, so sorry," I mumbled rather embarrassed to be in such close proximity to him.
The man stiffened, grasped my arms and righted me.
"No matter, we must go in and get you settled. Tomorrow you will meet with Mdm. Roux, my housekeeper," he spoke abruptly.
The back entrance of the main house was illuminated by two gaslights. I could barely make out the three-story structure. The home was large stone structure, covered intermittently with ivy. It was hard to imagine only one person and two servants living in such a vast dwelling. I guess that wasn't that unusual for the 1800's.
Erik led me through a mudroom and an enormous back kitchen area; from there we emerged into the main foyer where he then led me up a staircase. The home was dark and the only light I had was that of the lamp Erik held.
He stopped in front of a door in the middle of the upper hall, "This is your guest room Mlle." He turned up the lamp wick as we entered and I could see that the room held several period pieces and an exquisite full sized canopy bed. The décor was tastefully done in tones of white, lilac and amethyst.
Erik placed my belongings by a large mahogany bureau, and then walked to a window next to the bed. He drew aside the draperies and opened the window, permitting a gentle summer breeze to waft through the room.
"Mdm. Roux keeps things in check around here so the linins should be fresh. The water closet is down the hall to your right; my bedroom is on the left…should you be in need of anything," he added.
"It's been a long and most unusual day; you should rest Mademoiselle. Gabriel. Sleep as long as you need. I'll will be on the property all of tomorrow so we can discuss your arrangements when you rise."
I nodded, "Good night Erik and thank you, really."
"Good night." He gave a slight bow and backed out of the room.
Listening for his footsteps to fade down the hall, I gingerly turned the skeleton key in its lock. Living in a late 1800's brownstone in Lincoln Park, I was aware of how unreliable these keys were, but I needed to believe that it was some thread of protection against the unknown.
Standing in the middle of my luggage, I felt small and lost. Still not fully comprehending my circumstances, I wasn't willing to accept what I knew was truth; that I was in another dimension of time. Somehow this thing called time travel, the very object of my father's life work, had chosen me, his only daughter, as proof of his vision. The most heartbreaking part was that I had no way to tell him that he was right, no way to communicate; no way to return home.
My eyes watered at the thought of never seeing my family again; of living in a time when little was as I had know it, a time when women were treated as powerless belongings.
I could not allow myself to give in to a weakness beget from sorrow. The Thomassen's were of Scandinavian stock and we were strong and enduring. I was steely against negative odds—always had been. I would not, could not allow this thing to own me— to break me.
I will survive, I sung softly to the walls.
Tomorrow would be a day for thinking; tonight was for sleeping and I was wiped out. Off came the uncomfortable clothing.
I rummaged through my bags for an oversized t-shirt, pulling out one that I had given to Tony, but he had seldom worn. Protect Your Nuts was printed on the front with the picture of a squirrel below them.
I slipped it over my head and moved to the bed. I hated to disturb the lavish display of pillows with their fine lace and silk shams; but one must sleep. I turned back the coverlet and dove into the cool Egyptian cotton sheets. Pure bliss, I was asleep instantly.
Please R&R. Thanks! - Leesa