Author's notes:
Yo reviewers and lurkers. Welcome to my Phanfic. If you are reading "Time" for the first time, please review it. Your comments matter to Gabrielle and Erik immensely.Things are going to become quite interesting in the next few chapters (PLEASE read and review).
Ch 15 - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
Re-cap: Erik and Gabrielle exchange Christmas gifts and began to show feelings for one another…
Erik was so hard to read. He was a vast book whose cover was striking and elaborately polished, yet revealed nothing of the epic novel within.
Torrents of questions spiraled down from my brain spilling into my mouth, straining for the right to articulate.
So Erik, tell me who you are and of your past. What do you see for your future? What do you want? Could you want me? Could you love me? And would you let me love you?
Where did these questions of love come from Gabrielle? Has the Sherry turned rancid I wondered?
The hour was late, probably close to 3 am, and we were both fading from an evening of food, festivities and findings. Erik stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He arched his back for a good stretch.
"I saw you chopping wood today; I know your musclesmust be sore, if I weren't so pooped I'd massage your back tonight," I rationalized.
He eyed me curiously; "It's better this way. As tired as we both are, we might well collapse into sleep. What would the Roux's think when they return tomorrow morning only to discover we have taken to sleeping in the same bedroom? Remember, there are the remnants of our dinner still to be tidied up too."
"Yes, I also remember Monsieur that you offered to help me tidy up those remnants. Quote: I have lived alone and fended for myself most of my life; it has been only recently that others have waited on me. I shall do my share to help you tomorrow. It is only fair Gabrielle."
"Did I?" He made a halfhearted attempt to feign forgetfulness.
"Well Gabrielle, I am a man of my word. Besides we do not wish to raise the hackles of Marie Roux when she spies our messiness, trust me. That woman has no fear of the Phan… the fantastically strict lord of the manor."
He didn't almost say Phantom…did he? I had to will my mouth not to pop open in astonishment. It looks like libation and fatigue gives Erik loose lips.
I recovered quickly from my shock and decided it was time to hit the hay before someone did or said something imprudent. The day had been too wonderful to ruin now.
"Then late to bed and early to rise it is." I closed the small gap between us and placed a chaste kiss on Erik's cheek, "Sleep well Erik."
I made a swift exit before I he had a chance to respond.
I was floating in a tepid, serine, azure sea and smiling peacefully when three short raps assaulted my bedrooms door.
"Come, have coffee and fruit Gabrielle before we clean-up. The Roux's will be back soon," the voice called crisply. Of course it was Erik.
Hell— morning. Hadn't I just laid my head on the pillow five minutes ago?
I flung my body from the bed, otherwise I would never have risen, and dressed with minimum effort, grumbling the entire time about having to don one of those constrictive period dresses. The Roux's could return at anytime. I couldn't be caught looking like 21st century Gabby.
I did have misery in my company. Erik is a dedicated creature of the night; mornings are not his best time of day. I was surprised to see him already at the sink with his shirtsleeve rolled up, washing dishes. Do I wish I still had an instant camera, seeing him up to his elbows in suds was god-awful funny to me for some reason.
"Good morning Monsieur, I see you have made significant headway on our mess. But I do wonder, where is your apron?"
He welcomed me with a sideways glare; you'll catch me dead in one. Because I am fastidious and capable does not mean that I am a woman mademoiselle."
"As if you'd ever be mistaken for a woman Erik, not that there's anything wrong with being a woman," I goaded him mischievously.
I playfully popped him in the hip with a dishtowel then jumped out of his way.
"What do you think you are doing Gabrielle?" he bellowed. "That was a highly improvident action," he jerked his hands from the dishwater, dripping suds from his arms and onto the kitchen's stone floor and bounded after me.
We played cat and mouse around the butcher block. Erik attempted to trap me. I couldn't tell if the dark glint in his eyes meant he was playing or pissed.
I ran for it. He caught me by the sash on my blasted skirt. I shrieked as I found myself being pulled backwards. The next thing I knew I had been grabbed around my waist and bent forward over the butcher block.
"You are in need of a spanking," he growled menacingly.
"I what? No, lord no. Are you wack?" Ooh bad choice of words.
"Erik, release me now. You have lost you're ever lovin mind!" I squirmed and begged.
"Why yes, I am totally mad— amazing you're just now figuring that out. And I thought you to be a bright girl Gabrielle," he chuckled manically.
Suddenly he jerked up, nearly sending me spilling to my knees. His face was ashen, his eyes wide and watchful as a wolf.
"What is it?
"Shhh," Erik held a finger to his lips, "The Roux's have returned, we must straighten up lest they think that we are…."
"That we're what Erik; that we're having fun? God forbid," I snapped.
He ignored me and unrolled and re-buttoned the French sleeves of his shirt.
Marie burst in through the kitchen door with Henri trailing behind her. Behind him stood a young woman.
"Greetings all," Marie smiled warmly. I trust you enjoyed a pleasant holiday while we were in Niece? "
"Yes Madame, in fact we did, but it is nice to have you back. The manor can be way too quite with only the two of us here," I answered.
"You certainly don't have to tell me what a gregarious conversationalist our M.Dupuis is," Marie agreed dismissively.
"Humph, good to see you too Marie," Erik scowled.
"Don't be cross Erik, we have company. Henri, hurry up with Caron's things now, we don't want her waiting out in the cold, she'll catch her death. Caron dear, do come into the house."
The young blonde edged her way into the kitchen attempting a shy smile at Erik and I.
"Erik, you remember Caron our only daughter who is married to the navy man?" Marie addressed her daughter then gestured to Erik.
"You were a mere girl then, but I see you have grown into a lovely woman Madame Spencer," Erik took her hand, air kissing it politely.
"I am sure your parents are delighted to have your company, as will my guest and family friend, Madame Gabrielle Thomassen." Erik introduced the two of us.
"A pleasure Mdm. Spencer," I said.
"Please do call me Caron."
"If you call me Gabrielle," I smiled in return.
"Well if you ladies are through with your proper introductions I do think I'll be unloading this luggage and sending the carriage back to the city now. M. DuPuis would you care to show me where Caron will be sleeping?" The usually blustery Henri Roux looked weary.
"Certainly Henri, follow me. Ladies, Erik bowed to us, then led Henri toward the second floor bedrooms. As he left the kitchen I heard Henri remark that Erik was a brave man to allow two young women the run of his home for the next ten days.
Life at DuPuis manor slipped back into it's normal routine of quiet tedium. The opportunity to spend time with someone closer to my age to chat with was a welcome diversion. Caron, the Roux's only daughter, was sweet and intelligent.
I enjoyed her stories of growing up in Paris with her loving and lively family. She attended boarding school in London where she met her husband. Through Caron I grasped a true feeling for Victorian culture, which was more pronounced in the oppressive confines of her titled English world. At twenty-two, she had not really begun to live her life as a married woman. Her husband had joined the Royal Navy shortly after their marriage; hence she had yet to push out any babies.
With much time on her hands and little to do, Caron accepted her parents' invitation to stay with them. Henri reasoned that spending time in the French countryside would do her health a world of good. I think he really missed his little girl.
If Caron had her way, I suspect she would have followed in the footsteps of her cousin Meg
Giry as a principle dancer with Paris Opera Company. Caron was rumored to have
a lovely fresh voice and infinity for dance. Mdm. Roux forbids any member of her immediate family to entertain the idea of such foolishness. There were few options for young women of Caron's day, and her loving mother only wanted a honorable life for her daughter.
Even though there were seven years between the two of us, we got on well with one another. She was still so much of a giggling young girl, logged in the growing pains of becoming a young woman of polite society. Even though I was seven years her senior, I could well relate to the disquieting detachment of loneliness. I now resided within a suffocating society that preferred their women as pretty objects to display, impregnate, or clean their homes. Learning how to navigate the rules and customs of 19th century France would become one of the largest of my life's challenges.
Now as far as people go, Erik didn't mind the Roux's daughter, in fact, he barley acknowledged her presence. Not to say he was rude, he just hid in his music room, library, or some other clandestine location in the vast house. His only concession to us was when he made an appearance for supper. Always a gracious host, he would regale Caron with stories from his time as a young architect in Persia and Italy. Occasionally Erik would amuse Caron with a slight of hand trick, something one might see at a typical magic show, but amusing to Caron just the same. No, Erik had assuredly not become a social butterfly, he remained reserved and detached, but when he did engage his guests, he was charming in what I like to call a 'weird artist' sort of way.
Having tired of reading, horseback ridding (detestable side-saddle of course, Caron would not have understood my jeans), walks in the garden and cooking lessons. I suggested a shopping trip to Paris- everyone knows women live to shop. M.Roux drove us to the city, gave us a four-hour window for which to do our damage, them he disappeared into a forbidden pub.
Both of us delighted in having female companionship for a change. In London, she had lived with her British in-laws. They were very regal old money English with strict codes of how a young married lady was to conduct herself. Piano playing and singing for dinner guests, ladies clubs and other shit like that—not all unworthy ideas, but no fun was involved whatsoever. I informed her that until we had children to occupy our every waking breath, we owed it to ourselves to have a slice of fun. Poor dear had no inkling that she was in cahoots with a former club kid from a Promethean society who hungered for adventure.
The day was cold, but bright and we spent ample time in a cafe' drinking Cafe Du nuits and scarifying decadent pots de creme and éclairs. I don't think we skipped one single shop on The Boulevard Haussman Caron purchased some silk flowers for her mother and fine pipe tobacco for her mother. When she asked what would make a fitting gift for her host, M.Dupuis, I suggested one of his culinary weaknesses; fine dark chocolates. We had literally shopped until dropping, but had an hour left until we ere to meet back with her father.
No one to waste good down time, I had an idea. "Caron, since you are French, you know fine wines, am I right?"
She stuck her bottom lip out and considered my question. "Well, yes, only the men partake of drink in the Spencer household, but it was always around when I was growing up. I've not had much in a while. Mdm. Spencer says that proper ladies do not imbibe outside of social occasions, and even then we hold the same glass all evening long."
"That doesn't sound very French to me," I retorted. Your in-laws are hundreds of miles away. It's an hour ride to the manor house and we have an hour to lose. I suggest we live a little and stop in that cafe we saw on the avenue de Clichy. We can have a bottle of whatever your favorite grape juice and then nap on the way back. What about it?"
"Oh Gabrielle, that would be naughty. I dare not."
"And why not? What are you doing that would be so wrong? You are not cheating on your husband, not neglecting children at home; you are on a holiday of sorts. The way I see it, if you have no ill intent, you cannot be charged of a crime. C'mon, I insisted as I drug her into the Café Guerbois.
Inside a rosy fire lit the room. Parisians were in animated conversation at the various tables covering the stone floor. A young man sang torch ballads in the corner. I chose an indiscrete corner table to nestle into. The little round table was adorned with a single red that reminded me of Erik. His summer garden was filled with many rose bushes, one of which produces the most stunning long stemmed red blooms. Caron and I nestled in and I promptly ordered a bottle of Margaux.
"Gabrielle, are you sure it's alright for us to do this? We are unescorted women, I feel so naughty!
"It's OK Caron, it's daytime, they don't pay much attention to whether or not you have caretaker with you when the sun is shinning," I reassured her.
This knowledge seemed to calm her down some and after gulping down the first glass of wine, Caron relaxed considerably.
The next hour was spent telling stories of old beaus, horrific schoolmasters, and the difficulties of being the bride of a service man. My stories had to be edited somewhat to suit Caron's limited knowledge. Imagine telling a young Victorian woman that I went to a mixed university where I majored in English Lit and all night Raves. I convinced her that when I visited New York City in the States, it was OK for women to go the theatre and dance halls alone. We would often bring a friend or a man, whichever was most available, and enjoy a night of music or dancing.
"If only there were such freedom here in the city of light," I sighed wistfully. Caron smiled perceptively. I think I saw a bit of longing in her light blue eyes. Her knowing expression, plus a mix of wine and reminiscing about my lost life led my fertile mind to a dangerously fresh idea.
"Gabrielle, mother tells me that you have been at the manor for six months. Is it strange to be a widow?" Caron asked.
"Mostly it is sad Caron, but I am coping," I answered no willing to divulge much.
"I shouldn't ask, but I can't help but be curious. What is he like?" her blue eyes grew large with interest.
"Are you asking me about M.Dupuis?"
"It's rude, forgive me for prying. Mother tells me that he is reclusive, not mean and that he loves no one because his heart was irreversibly broken. Do you believe that to be true Gabrielle?
I swished the burgundy colored wine in my glass and thought about Erik. "In Erik's case, I cannot say; however, I think a persons heart can seem destroyed, but like the fabled Phoenix, if nurtured, the heart can rise from the ashes to live in love again."
Caron smiled sadly in agreement. "'Mother tells me that he wears the mask because the flesh beneath there is terrible disfigured. He never takes it off in front of others. Have you seen his face Gabrielle?"
"Me? Heavens no girl. Why would M. DuPuis unmask for me? If he hide for one why wouldn't he hide for all?"
"I overheard mother say to father that she believes he fancy's you, I thought maybe if he trusted you he might…I am so sorry, I am being boorish Gabrielle—asking such indelicate questions."
"Um…no, think nothing of the sort Caron, but your parents are mistaken. M. Dupuis and I have become casual friends due to our love of literature and music. Nothing more."
She leaned in and spoke in a whisper, "Don't you think him to be quite…arresting in a brooding sort of way? Well, at least what one can see?" She giggled into her gloved hand.
What sort of French girl gets giggly on two glasses of wine?
"Yes, he wears his elegant clothes well," I replied.
Time to switch subjects. I had a brainstorm.
"Quickly, we only have about fifteen minutes left to meet your father and I want to stop by the tailor that Erik uses for something."
"Oh, were you supposed to pick up some garments for M.Dupuis?" she asked innocently.
"Well, no not really." I couldn't lie to that trusting face. Wouldn't you just love to go to the Café's of St-Germain to unleash your spirit, dance, sing and have some fun, no debaucheries?
"But, it's not possible Gabrielle, we don't have men to escort us—you know that's the rule. I'm afraid I could never be so bold. I'm not like you Gabrielle." she apologized.
"Oh no Caron, I'm not suggesting that we buck the system, so to speak, I will go to Erik's tailor and order a fine men's suit. At 5'5" I am much taller than you are, there are many slight men around and I am a master at stage make-up having been in telev... theatre. No one will ever suspect that I am not a boyish-man. I'll be your escort for the evening— your cousin Pierre," I announced triumphantly. "We'll slip into Paris for a night of lady like pursuits, go to the cafe and live it up like true cosmopolitan citizens!"
"I couldn't deceive my parents like that Gabrielle, that would be imprudent."
Bloody Girl Scout, I thought.
"Oh contraire Madame, we wouldn't. We could have you write Meg and suggest that you may be in town at the time in question. If you show up at her home, great, if not, you can say that something came up, which is the truth. Of course we won't tell her when we are coming so no one will be the wiser when we change our minds and stay at a swanky hotel instead. See Caron? There's no lying involved, and I will take full responsibility if we are to be discovered. What can be done to me but to send me packing back to where I came from?" I chuckled for my sake as well as hers.
Caron, you are young and vibrant. You love the arts. Your esteemed husband will return before you know it and you'll spend the rest of your youth birthing and burping babies. Live a little woman!" I coaxed enthusiastically.
Caron's breathing had increased and she was wringing her hands excitedly, "Well, she giggled into gloved hands, "It does sound positively exciting. Could we, dare we do this Gabrielle?"
"Absolutely! Now, let's get to the tailors for my measurements before we run out of time."
"Oh my father won't care if we're a tiny bit tardy, he does enjoy his male camaraderie."
"And I'm sure the Belgium ale is not bad either."
I ordered my masculine evening ensemble from Erik's tailor. To keep from garnering disapproving looks, I informed the man that I would be attending a masquerade ball and wanted to surprise everyone by making a convincing showing as a man. I paid him in advance so no bill would appear on Erik's account.
"Please don't tell M.Dupuis, I winked at the man as if I were sharing covert information with him, "I wish to surprise him with my outfit!" I smiled impishly.
The man nodded as if he were taking a solemn oath.
I was amped up, in three weeks I would be picking up my party duds. Mdm. Caron Spencer and I had a date with the grand bourgeoisie society of the historically famous Cafe's of Paris.
This was going to rock.
- O -
You know what to do. Please, please, pleasereview. Tripple props for doing so last time too: Littledaae323- A hotel room? How about a dark alley (grins). LafemmeEslie- yes, they are so scared they can't see the forest for the trees, but it will come (or somebody will). Dunthonwen- you flatter me…now get some sleep. I'm still seeking a proofreader/Beta too if you have any ideas email me at "lkmitch at hot mail dot com."
The next few chapters will singe your fingers, so beware delicate ones.
With much love and appreciation - Leesainthesky