Thank you for your reviews and a big thank you for my beta Amy. She keeps me right. This is a long chapter, so buckle up – Leesainthesky
Re-cap: Gabrielle discovers that the kitchen pantry is the perfect place to eavesdrop on Erik and Nadir khan who are having an interesting conversation in the library…
Ch 30 Proposing a Proposal
How could eavesdropping be a crime in a household where there were many secrets?
Being able to hear every word spoken by whoever was in the library could only be a plus.
I suppose I'd never noticed it before because Erik was usually alone in the library.
At first Erik and the Daroga conversed in Farsi, Nadir's native tongue, so I hadn't a clue as to what was being said. Then Erik requested that they continue in French.
"No offense, my good friend, but can we revert to my native language? Yours conjures unwelcome memories for me."
"And for that I am deeply grieved Monsieur. Suppose Madame Gabrielle should hear us? Would that not be risky?"
"Gabrielle is not prone to eavesdropping Daroga, besides; she'll be busy in the kitchen for a good while. I am certain we are safe," Erik retorted.
"I trust your judgment, friend. Alright then, the language of kings it is," agreed the Persian.
Erik was correct; I was not prone to eavesdropping. Even when I worked in a newsroom where everyone was a rabid gossipmonger, I purposely avoided hearing anything that could place me in a compromising position or upset me in some way, but this sudden discovery of being able to hear Erik converse with an old friend was just too tempting for even the most honorable woman.
I justified the act further by reminding myself of Erik's foray into my journal a few months back.
There was also a miniscule crack in the pine knots of the pantry wall were I could barley discern the back of Erik's head and the Daroga's face.
"I was not being polite when I complimented Madame Gabrielle's culinary prowess. She was most considerate to prepare dishes from my culture. That was one of the most delicious meals I have eaten in years. Not only does she cook well, but she is clever, intelligent and easy on one's eyes. Wherever did you find her?" the Daroga questioned Erik.
"I have told you, Daroga. Gabrielle is the niece-in-law of my architectural partner in London, Monsieur Mangeot. She had no one to take her in after her husband in the Americas perished from influenza, so I am helping her get back on solid ground. She does well here and I have told her she may remain at my manor as long as she desires too," Erik said matter-of-factly.
"As long as she desires, my friend? From my observations, the two of you carry on with the ease of a happily married couple. Erik, tell me you have not indulged in any of your trickery to convince her to stay on, have you?" the Persian asked suspiciously.
I winced when Erik slammed his brandy snifter down on the marble table, expecting to hear shattering crystal.
"Damn it Daroga, have you so little trust in me that you must always believe the worst? I gave up those methods of persuasion you call trickery after I left the opera house. Those days are behind me and you know it!"
"Please, my dear friend, do calm yourself. I feel it is my duty to ask such a question. You forget I know you too well, Erik. I wonder why a handsome young woman such as Madame Gabrielle is not seeking a new husband, unless of course, she has already found a suitable benefactor."
Say what? I wasn't sure I was partial to the Persian man's insinuation.
"A suitable benefactor, Monsieur?" Erik sounded irritated. "Gabrielle has not used her feminine charms to manipulate me into being her benefactor if that is what you are suggesting. We get on well, and as you know, that is not something I am prone to do with many of God's people."
"I intended no offense, friend. In my numerous years as a police Chief and detective, I have learned to read the subtleties of others well. Erik, it is my astute observation that Madame Gabrielle fancies you a great deal. As for you, there is a new fire burning in your eyes."
The sounds of silence—I could see the Daroga through the teeny crack in the pantry wall. He sat crossed legged on the black leather sofa; smoke from his pipe curled around his weathered, swarthy face. His dark eyebrows were lifted at the man sitting across from him.
"The master of illusion, the trap door lover, at this very moment he is not able to conceal that he has a secret. You have become soft my macabre friend. Do you wish to divulge what it is you are holding on to?"
Erik swished the fine cognac around in its crystal bowl. I imagined him nonchalantly gazing into the amber liquid, contemplating whether or not he would dignify his friend with a straightforward answer, or lead him on an elusive word chase. Erik wasn't fond of being put on the spot.
"Gabrielle, she is a different sort of woman, Daroga. Like none other I have ever witnessed. Do you know she can play the Spanish guitar, is proficient with a hammer and nail, rides like a man and could serve as a chef in any of the finest restaurants in all of France?"
"All admirable traits, indeed my friend, but my instincts tell me it is not her culinary skills or deftness with a hammer that captivate you so."
Erik snickered sardonically, "From you, Daroga, I can hide nothing."
"Then what is it, friend? Does Madame Gabrielle know of your interest? Are you infatuated with her?"
"You will be amused to know that Madame Gabrielle claims to be in love with me."
The Daroga uncrossed his legs and re-lit his pipe. He leaned back into the leather sofa, and enjoyed a few puffs while reflecting on Erik's words.
"She said this to you, Eh? That she loves you."
"Is that so had to believe, that a woman could love me for me Daroga? Am I still so much of a monster that I could never reap the benefits of amour? Have you forgotten that a man exists beneath my atrocity?" Erik said evenly.
"No, no my friend, you misunderstand. But love has escaped you all your life Erik— we both know why, we both know it is unfair. Has Madame Gabrielle…"
"Seen my face? Why, yes, she has. And do you know what she did Daroga? Nothing, yes, you heard me, nothing. She did not scream, she did not retch or run, she did not even flinch or frown. Gabrielle merely looked me in the eye, smiled and kissed me. She kissed me my friend, on my lips and on my disfigured face."
"Have you bedded her yet?"
"My dear Daroga, such an indiscrete inquiry; where women are concerned, I am mostly a gentleman."
"I meant no disrespect to Madame Gabrielle, Monsieur. It would only be natural for two people in such close proximity to couple. Frankly, I hope you have experienced the carnal delights of a woman's body. May I remind you, Erik, in the years we have co-existed in our strange relationship; we have concealed few facts from the other."
"Of course, Daroga, and yes, Gabrielle and I, we have been— intimate, but we have yet to consummate our relationship. I respect her too much to insist on her virtue at this juncture in our romance."
"Most admirable of you, Monsieur, but at last, you have tasted the joys of the flesh, no? Are they all your dreams have promised?" inquired the Daroga.
"More. Ma Petite Belle is not an immoral woman, but she knows how to pleasure me in ways I never imagined in all my darkest fantasies."
Well, there's a point for my team. One always wonders what a man thinks of you when it comes to the delicate subject of extracurricular relations.
The Daroga chuckled, "You are a fortunate man, then. The Shah's harem of virgins could perform the most amazing acts on one by use of only their hands and mouths— things one could never forget," His voiced was tinged with lust as he reminisced.
Erik laughed as though at a joke, "I believe my Gabrielle could rival those well trained concubines. And here she says she loves me too. Can you fathom such a thing Daroga?"
The Persian sable eyes considered Erik seriously. He pointed the bowl of his pipe in Erik's direction, "Love is always possible when the right person falls into your life, my friend. Do you love her?"
Oh God, maybe I should plug my ears for this one, I thought.
"Gabrielle is a brilliant, intoxicating, and maddeningly independent woman. She is also kind and tender. She means the world to me, Daroga, but do I love her? As you well know, I once loved a woman fiercely. She loved only my voice. Had my face not been revealed to her early on, perchance she could have returned my love. Then there was that meddling boy…"
"…You elude my question," the Daroga interrupted.
"I cannot afford to love her."
"Ridiculous!"
"You know so little, Daroga," Erik fairly snarled.
"Then tell me, dear old friend, what it is I do not know."
Erik stood and walked over to the large mahogany desk. He opened a drawer, fumbled around and drew out a Figaro news clipping taped to a square of cardboard. Erik thrust the article into the Daroga's hands and tapped on it, "This event transpired nearly ten months ago. Some say Monsieur Fentz was murdered; others claimed he had run off with a mistress. No corpse, mistress, or motive was found.
Others believed the Frenchman was abducted by aliens, and then there was speculation that he had been swallowed up in a time warp. Gabrielle appeared at precisely the same moment Monsieur Fentz disappeared.
The Daroga's eyes expressed confusion, "Are you inferring that Madame Gabrielle's appearance and this man's disappearance are related?"
"I know with certainty they are related. She and Monsieur Fentz traded places in time. No, do not look at me so; I was searching for pages from one of my precious original scores in the bowels of the opera house when I came across her. She was lying on the ground of my former lair, scratched, bruised and most confused. Gabrielle wore very strange clothing and carried with her accouterments that were stranger still."
He wouldn't dare, my mind screamed. No Erik, do not do this to me!
"What I have always feared has finally occurred, you have finally gone completely crackers, Monsieur," said the Daroga.
"Listen to me. I was prepared to throw her out on the streets of Paris until she convinced me that she was indeed from the year 2005. Daroga, I tell you the truth. The woman is a reporter for something she calls television. She presented me with the most amazing instruments, the like of which I have never witnessed. Wait, here I will show you."
Erik stood and strode from the room swiftly.
Uh–oh, I'd better skedaddle, I thought, He was probably looking for me. I busied myself by pretending to scrub the previously cleaned countertops.
Within a half a moment, Erik was at the entrance looking at me. "Still cleaning up are you? Gabrielle, there is no need to work so late into the evening. Put the broom away and come here," Erik requested with a warm smile.
How could I resist that voice and those eyes? I obeyed and went to him.
Erik embraced me, kissed my forehead, and looked into my eyes, "Gabrielle, darling, there are few human beings I trust. There is Madame Giry, the Daroga and now you. Monsieur Khan knows more about my life's motives and sins, than all of you combined. He has been my father confessor since early adulthood."
I stared into his jade eyes, "Its cathartic to have someone trustworthy to unload your secrets on isn't it?"
"Somewhat—and that is my point, darling. I need for the Daroga to know of us, of you and your secret. Because of the man's considerable powers of discernment, he may be able to help you assimilate yourself into this century with wisdom and insight. Two heads are often better than one, as the saying goes."
"Nooo, Erik," I looked at my feet and shook my head vehemently, "No, please don't ask me to do what I think you're asking. Don't tell your friend that I'm here because I took a vacation from 2005. He'll think we're both daft as ducks."
Erik placed an index finger under my chin and drew my head back up to face him. "Listen to me, Gabrielle. Do you honestly believe I would put either one of us in harm's way? I know this man, I trust this man. He will believe. But you must convince him as you did with me. Present the Daroga with your computer and your camera. Tell him of things that will happen next week or next month. I insist you do this for your own good."
I stared at him wide eyed with fear, "What if he tells someone, Erik? What then? Will the story get out, causing the authorities or crazed scientists to hunt me?"
"I would kill anyone who dared harm a hair on your pretty head. And anyway, the Daroga will not tell a soul. Of this I am certain," he soothed. "Come, your computer and camera are still locket up in my desk. I hope the battery supply is still good."
Erik took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly, the led me to the library. I felt as though I were going to meet the firing squad. Adrenaline was coursing though my body, making my hands clammy.
Erik ushered me into the library and gestured for me to sit next to him. I chose to sit at the hearth. The fire's warmth might lend me some courage. He went over to his desk and unlocked a hidden compartment on the inside of one of the large drawers.
Erik drew out my laptop and IPOD and a few of the personal identifications I had on me when I tumbled into 1876, then returned to his leather armchair and set the items on the table between him and the Daroga.
Nadir Khan reclined on the couch, leisurely sipping his cognac. He appeared ever so slightly amused. At the moment, I felt incredibly suspect. No one spoke for a good two minutes.
Finally, the Persian broke the ice, "Gabrielle, Erik tells me that you have come to us via time travel from the 21st century. Has our dark friend's mind finally turned on him or could there be merit to his revelation?"
I stood, shaking out my skirts then clasped my hands in front of me and approached the man with what I hoped to be the most sober of expressions painted on my face, "Monsieur Khan, forgive me if what I say seems far-fetched, but what Erik says is true. I lived in Chicago, Illinois, in America. The date was June 2005 when I walked out of a theatre in New York City and came upon a man dressed in 19th century garb, so petrified that he backed into traffic and was run over by an automobile, a motorized carriage you could say. I then blacked out, and then the next thing I knew, I was on my knees scraped and bleeding in the fifth basement of the Paris Opera house."
I paused to grab Erik's cognac from the table behind me and took a sizable gulp.
"Erik discovered me, took pity on me and now I am here. Does it all seem inconceivable? Well, I tell you it is no lie. My father was or is a physicist teetering on the edge of proving how quantum physics and time travel mesh to provide a series of black holes and tears in the fabric of the universe. These time tears could be all around us, but you would never realize it unless you slipped through one—an improbable event, but if one were to occur in say, 1876, and another at the same instant in 2005, anyone near enough to the breach may find themselves trading time periods."
Phew, I was exhausted and I knew this was just the beginning of my performance.
"Having grown up in Persia, I have witnessed many mystical occurrences. I am not a scientist, however as I see it, science has yet to devise an acceptable theory that explains and allows for time travel. Any explanation for mysterious events caused by so called future experiments must be invalid," said the Daroga.
"Here," I bent down and picked the laptop from the table and moved to the sofa to sit next to Nadir.
"This, monsieur, is what is called a portable computer. There is a miniscule chip inside of it that stores millions of pieces of information. You can type anything you want, create stationary, calling cards, compose music and, if this is attached to a telephone line, can access what a world wide web of information storehouses and contact others who have one of these. That is called the Internet. In this century the telegraph is widely used to send messages. In the next hundred years the world will morph into a technological fantasyland. My profession was as an entertainer of sorts—what's called a television personality; I interviewed people of note and reviewed the performing arts and other means of entertainment."
I made a brave attempt to explain television and radio waves, and satellites. The Persian listened politely, but was not impressed until I powered up the little computer and put it in his lap. I brought up a basic midi music composition program, a word processing program and video of my last Chicago Tonight.
"Batteries are what this runs on, obviously not like the ones of today, but small, long lasting cells. I try to keep Erik from using this and an instrument that holds thousands of songs; I want the technology to last as long as possible. It is my only link to my original life, Monsieur."
Nadir considered the laptop with wonder, hunting and pecking the keys, attempting to make it function for him. I instructed him on a few of the shortcuts he could use to compose a letter. I explained that a printer was needed to produce the actual document.
"This is a most exciting machine, the likes of which I have never seen. Why, think of how quickly you could put down your compositions Erik," He enthused.
"Here Nadir, allow me to introduce you to Gabrielle Thomassen, 2005," I inserted the disc of Chicago Tonight and set opened the file. There I was, in living walking, talking color. I was wearing a skimpy BoHo style shirt, a short skirt and boots. I was setting up the Brittany spears piece. I was kind to the man and spared him her performance. My producer had set me up in front of the venue where she was performing. Automobiles, busses, and crowds of people walking by were in the background. Funny, but I had been in the 19th century so long, I felt as if I were looking at the future, but then, I suppose I was.
"Madame Gabrielle, is that truly you? How ever could a body walk around like that on the streets? Didn't your husband mind terribly?" asked the Persian.
"Nadir," I addressed him soberly, "life in 2005 is much more relaxed than it is today. People don't bundle themselves up in layers of clothing and pomp and circumstance, although sometime I think we could use a smidgeon of it. Women enjoy many freedoms not accessible in this century. And by the way, I've never been married." I could hear him thinking oh my!
"I see; then it is all a ruse to allow you to live here without seeming improper to the likes of the Roux's and anyone else who may question your arrangement here in the company of the Lord of the Manor?"
"Precisely," added Erik.
"Are you not lonely?" Nadir continued.
"Of course Monsieur, the adjustment to your society has been…challenging, to say the least. But I'm managing, with Erik's gracious assistance," I said, tilting my head in Erik's direction and smiling warmly.
Erik returned the sentiment with his eyes. He turned toward the Daroga again, and instructed me to introduce him to my music machine.
"Nadir, I am going to place this on your head, they're called headphones. You can hear music in them from this little personal device I have in my hand. There are thousands of musical selections stored in it. To convince you that I am from a new age, I will allow some of the modern selections to play and then there is a rendering of one of Erik's yet to be published opera's in here too."
I adjusted the earphones on his head and turned on the device. Nadir's expression suddenly took on the look of a child who has discovered the most magnificent of chimeras.
"…Such fascinating and noisome sounds of which I have never heard," he exclaimed!
I switched to the section where the rendering of Erik's opera, la femme du nord,
without telling him what he would be listening to.
"Astounding!" he cried, why this, this must be one of Erik's aria's. There can be no equal to his virtuosity. And it is here, in this, this instrument? Oh my, there is much my mind can fathom Madame, but these mechanisms you have produced for me are above and beyond anything I could imagine. If Erik accepts that all I have witnessed tonight is indeed hales from the future, then I too, can be persuaded to believe your fantastic tale. That is unless Erik, you have concocted an elaborate ruse at my expense."
Erik sat in his chair with his arms crossed, glaring, "Why should I deceive you dear friend? Yes, I have inconvenienced you with many of my tricks from time to time, but that was when you were meddling into my affairs at the opera house. I was a madman then. I assure you Nadir, that I am now most boringly sane."
I leaned toward the Daroga and smiled, "Nadir, what I said at supper was not a slip of the tongue, and Erik will become one of history's most innovative composers. He will have other personal successes too, although I am not at liberty to say. There is a code of ethics among time travelers dictating that the course of history not be altered, at least in important matters such as birth or death. No one knows to what degree such actions could damage the balance of the universe."
Nadir rubbed his chin and gazed at me with amazement, "Of all the people in Paris, it was Erik, who found you, Gabrielle. But then who better than to take a wayward under his wing? Tell me Erik, have you two devised a plan to rule the world yet?"
"Heavens no, too much trouble," Erik retorted.
The men dragged me into a two-hour long discussion of what some of the world's new technological advances would be in the coming century.
I told them that around Christmas of this year, an American by the name of Thomas Edison will file for the patent of a device called the phonograph. The machine will play music recorded onto a cylinder.
"It can be used for recording virtually anything you like. It is ancient precursor to the technology used in my IPOD technology," I informed the men.
Nadir was interested in criminology advances and when I told him of the CSI advances, I thought he was going to have a sexual encounter with himself on Erik's sofa.
Finally, at around two thirty in the morning, I begged for an escape. "Gentlemen, please excuse me. As much as I have enjoyed the evening, I am bushed. I have got to go to sleep. If you like, we can resume our discussion tomorrow, Nadir."
"My pleasure, Mademoiselle, or is it Madame?"
"For all concerned, it's best to refer to me as Madame."
"Then I bid you a Good evening, Madame Gabrielle."
"Yes dear, pleasant dreams," Erik offered. I gave the men a brief curtsey, and headed for my bedroom.
Oh pooh, I forgot to ask what time I should serve breakfast in the morning. I was a mere step from the library when I heard something that caused me to stop cold.
"She is magnificent, Erik. Why don't you propose to the woman?"
- O -
This will be finished and it will have a positive ending. Now, I implore you; please take a moment of your time to review this chapter. Thank you all, I can't list names, but I wish I could because many of the reviews are very insightful, some are just plain amusing and I love them all! Again, thank you for reading and reviewing – Leesa