You all rock for the reviews. Keep them coming. I'd like to see them hit 500 on this one, so everyone get busy! While useful, they have also been hot and cold running humorous… "There's an Erik-Bun in the oven" (maybe, maybe not); "Understand this, if you think I'm going to get used to your left hand again, after being inside the gates of heaven, you're crazy"; Quotes from Grease and all around feedback, suggestions and support for the story.
Thanks X-K
-Leesainthesky
Ch 57 Grasping at Straws
Change of plans; the letter to Mary Anne would go to post; the one to Erik's friend, Nadir Khan, would not.
Up with the birds and out into the world of the morning dwellers I went.
The Roux's weren't even stirring when I crept into the stable and hooked up the little brougham. Erik recognized my astute ability to work with all things equestrian and gave me carte blanche with his horses and carriages as long as he would not be in need of them at the same time. With his assistance, I became quite adept at working the little two-person buggy.
A trip into Paris on a clear, brisk September day would do me a world of good.
Still feeling queasy since last night's bout of nausea, I'd imbibed on only a cup of tea with milk and a bit of bread. If I felt like it, I could grab a bite in a café.
My destination was the Rue de Rivoli section of Paris where the Daroga lived. Calling on a gentleman uninvited and unannounced was unheard of in the 1877, but then I figured that the Persian was used to Erik's eccentricities, so he could expect a few from the Phantom's fiancée too.
Living in emotional purgatory was driving me nuts. I needed the power of knowledge and I knew the Daroga was able to afford me such insight into the mind and method of Erik DuPuis.
Nadir Khan's little flat sat within a row of buildings across from the Tuileries, the most central park in Paris. A walk along the Seine or perusing the riches of the Louvre tempted me to stray from my mission if only for a moment, but I resisted, staying my course.
I looped the brougham to the iron hitch in front of 302 Rue de Rivoli and swiftly ascended the short flight of stairs up to the flat. The sooner I processed this personal issue, the better.
Two matching blue doors met me at the top of the flight; both equally shabby in their appearance with simple brass knockers affixed to them. I inhaled a breath of courage and rapped lightly.
Locks turned in their tumblers and the door opened a crack, revealing the serious face of a smooth skinned Persian man in his mid 40's.
The look he offered me was one that had met me numerous times as a reporter; the what in the Sam hill do you want lady, look.
I figured that my introduction had better be worthy of a positive response from the dour servant.
"Good day, Monsieur, I am Madame Gabrielle Thomassen…the fiancée of Erik DuPuis. Is the Daroga in?"
"Might he be expecting your visit today, Madame?"
"Frankly, no, but it is of the utmost importance that I speak with him. It concerns his friend Erik."
His face softened ever so slightly and he opened the door for me to enter.
"Please enter Madame and have a seat." He gestured to a small parlor area. "I shall alert Monsieur Khan to your presence."
Off he went down a narrow hall and into another room.
I choose the room's worn loveseat and perched attentively on its edge, fondling a basket filled with a dozen cheese almond croissants I'd baked for Nadir, and admired the many accessories which hinted of his rich heritage.
A Persian rug covered the floor, brass lamps adorned a small curio, and gold threaded hangings decorated the walls. On one teakwood table was a worn photo of a beautiful dark-skinned woman and a young boy with dancing eyes, which I assumed to have once been his family.
"My wife and son."
"Oh, hello Monsieur Khan," I turned toward his voice, an intriguing mixture of Middle Eastern and French.
"What a handsome pair," I indicated the faded photograph.
"Yes, they were the light of my life. My wife, Rookheeya, has been gone many years now, and Reza, nearly twenty. He and Erik shared between them a kind of magical communion."
"I'm sorry for your misfortune. And forgive me for popping in on you unannounced."
"Think nothing of it Madame. To me, Erik has become family, and so that would make you family as well. If you've come for my reply to the wedding invitation, I sent in the post two days back. A formality since you know I would never miss the event of the century," he said with humor.
"Not exactly, Nadir. I'm here because I—I really could use a hearty dose of wisdom, and you were the person I thought of."
"Erik, is he ill?" Concern lit his features.
"Ill? You could call it that." I laughed, and handed him the basket of croissants.
Nadir seated himself in a chair to my right. Hs eyes lit up with happy surprise when he lifted the cover to reveal the fresh buttery croissants nestled within.
"Gracious, you have blessed with your cooking, and just in time for my morning meal! Merci, Madame. Would you care to join me for coffee and pastries, Madame Thomassen?"
"If you've enough there to spare," I chided the Persian. "I would at least love a cup of coffee though. And please no formalities, Monsieur. Call me Gabrielle."
"And you must call me Nadir."
"Darius," he called for his manservant, who apparently had been waiting around the corner for his master's call.
"Please, coffee for my guest and me." Darius bowed and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
Folding his graceful hands and sitting back tall in the chair, the Persian observed me inquisitively.
"And so has our dear Erik found ways to exasperate you so close to the wedding dear lady?"
"And how, Nadir; I've done everything I know to make him happy. Well, I've not lain prostrate at his feet in idol worship or anything.
Although maybe I ought to, that sort of butt kissing is working for a certain lady from his past.
"Erik wants to postpone our wedding for another month so he can be, certain."
Nadir frowned sympathetically, "Not an imprudent suggestion, yet I thought Erik was delighted at the prospect of becoming a husband to you, Gabrielle."
"Me too, Nadir. His new opera opened to rave reviews, his architectural firm receives more and more prestigious contracts regularly. All seemed well, including us, until the night of the opera Gala. Oh, Nadir he took me to see it! It was glorious and he had such a time, until Christine Daae, de Chagny, or whatever her name is showed up just as we were making our exit from the theatre."
"Dear Allah! Christine was there? Did Erik speak with her?"
"Oh yes indeed. At first when he heard her calling him in the lobby, he ignored her and hurried me along, but the woman persisted and eventually caught up with us. What could he do Nadir? Erik is seldom rude to women."
"One of his odd saving graces."
I retraced the disquieting events from the past two weeks for Nadir. He listened with patient concern, nodding or furrowing his brow in all the right places.
"…And two days after the Gala, a special delivery letter arrived with rose sealing wax. I knew it was from a woman. Nadir, please know that I am not the jealous type, but when Erik let it slip that that seal's imprint was that of the de Chagny crest, I smelled a rat. May the good Lord forgive me but do you know what I did?"
"What you felt you must, I am sure."
"Please don't think wrongly of me when I tell you, this is not normal behavior for me, but when dealing with Erik you do what you must…"
"A truth to be sure!" he agreed.
"I opened the letter and I read it."
The Persian remained nonplused. "And was it from Madame de Chagny?"
"You bet 'cha…ah, yes it most certainly was. Here, let me quote from memory the last part of her letter; 'Please Erik, if you have any love left within your heart for me, do you not owe it to yourself to discover what may be your true fate? After all, darling, we have only but one life to live. We belong together, blah, blah, blah.' To cut to the chase, she now knows that they are soul mates and could they arrange a meeting?"
I teared up recounting the contents of Christine's wretched note.
The Persian's face melted with genuine compassion.
"May Allah have mercy; this is a dreadful development dear lady. Erik will not honor her request will he?"
I grimaced and looked away from him, "He says he loves me and still wishes to marry me, but he needs…he needs to be sure it is the right thing to do. Nadir," I bit back a sob, "please, tell me what to do! If I lose him…"
"Gabrielle, you mustn't grieve, he will not discard you for Christine. I have witnessed you together. No one could tame the beast within Erik's soul as you have dear. In you he has found his perfect mate."
"Funny, that's what he used to tell me too, Nadir," I whispered softly, raising my eyes to meet his.
I sipped my coffee and wrapped my arms around my waist attempting to guard against a sudden chill.
"You are cold, here." Nadir rose and removed a multi colored afghan from the back of his divan and draped it around my shoulders.
"Thank you Monsieur. Nadir, I know that Erik loves me and he's been under some terrific pressure with his opera, the wedding, his building projects and now this. It's not out of the question that his re-encounter with Christine would resurrect residual feelings. He could very possibly wonder what does this all mean; do I still love her and if so, what does the wondering mean?"
"Erik's strong suit was never in matters of the heart. Those whom he lavished his attentions upon rejected him and now, the first woman to ever kiss him has returned a widow," Nadir said, tenting the tips of his fingers together and staring at them thoughtfully.
"I guess you knew about that too—the Comte's accident."
"Indeed, we, that is, all who care for Erik's well being, wished to protect him against his morbid curiosity. Then you entered his life and he'd become smitten. There was no reason to disturb what was blossoming between the two of you."
"Of Nadir, that is so sweet, really, Erik has such good friends. I hope he knows that." I managed a pitiful smile at the man.
"Gabrielle, the change in Erik was a miracle."
"Yes well, Erik had never had a woman before either," I smiled coyly.
"A pleasure no man should ever leave this life without experiencing. Forgive my boldness when I assume that a woman from your time and culture must be far more educated in such pleasures than the ladies of our time. Persian men, we are not shy about our appetites and our women are well schooled in the acts of physical satisfaction, not like the pristine Europeans. Even the majority of French women are known to loathe the act."
Do my ears deceive me? Nadir was asking me personal details about getting freaky!
"Why Nadir, you're curious aren't you, my darling Daroga," I lightly teased.
He dipped his head with mild embarrassment, "Forgive me, but I am. Erik…a man of his imagination and grace, how was he as a—?"
"—As a lover? Shy, at first, but most willing, as you can only imagine, Nadir. Contrary to what you may think Monsieur, I am not exceptionally experienced. I'm of the Christian faith and not prone to relations with men I don't hope to marry, but I've sampled a few and I must say, Erik, with his artist's mind, long fingers and splendid anatomy, well, I'll just stop there." I grinned for the first time all morning, watching the experienced man's already brown cheeks deepen in color.
"I expect nothing less from Erik; he is a passionate man, too passionate for the Comtess. His mind toys with a memory. Should he act upon it, he is indeed not worthy of his own intellect. Erik once loved the illusion of Christine, but it is you he loves Gabrielle, the living, breathing, lovely woman."
I hoped upon hope that he was right in his assessment.
"A visit to my old friend is in order. I will get to the bottom of this ridiculous nonsense. As for Christine, she has his mind confused. Where he once had no choice to love, he now thinks there are two. He does not love her, no, not as he loves you. There is an aura around you when you and Erik are together. When I first met you, it glowed like fire—twin spirits meant to be."
I liked to think I had found the mythical soul mate of legend in Erik, but then I suspect my penchant for romance is not unlike what the heel was to Achilles.
Nadir and I spent the next few minutes mulling over the morning's conversation in silence.
Then I remembered the other issue I had for him.
"Before I leave you Nadir, I do have one other question for you."
"Do go on dear."
"There's this fellow who owns part of the new Lyric opera house where Erik's latest opera is playing. His name is Monsieur Vincenzo, Viktor if I remember right. He swears that he knows me from somewhere, the problem is I don't remember him and I seldom forget a face."
Nadir pulled on his salt and pepper eyebrows, probably a habit of concentration gleaned from his days as a detective."
"Could he have seen you about in the city?"
"Possible, but doubtful; the man has been dropping creepy hints my way, as if he knows my true identity." I hoped he caught my drift.
"Antareh Gaav! Do you believe this man is also a time traveler, Gabrielle?"
"I can't say for sure, but he's alluded to it twice now. On the night the Opera Gala, the man asked me if I was related to a scientist by the name of Dr. Jonathan Thomassen. Nadir, that is my father's name."
"An ancestor perhaps?"
"Not possible."
"A guess of luck?"
"If it is it's a colossal coincidence. There could be other time travelers besides my self, Nadir. If they're from my time period and floating around Europe, they might just know of my family or me…. You may remember me telling you of how I was a television reporter in the states of, Kentucky, and Georgia and on an entertainment show in Chicago. Much of my work got broadcast nationwide, some even globally."
"You've a most impressive vocational pedigree, Madame." Nadir was impressed.
"Thank you, Nadir, but you see, it isn't that difficult to get your face in the public in the twenty first century. Information can be broadcast worldwide within a matter of seconds, into even the most secluded areas."
"Remarkable."
"Yep, and you never know what twisted mind has seen you, and wants to meet you, or rape you, or kill you…"
"Most frightening for a woman, I would think!"
"One must be vigilant."
I put my elbows on my knees and leaned in toward Nadir. "Here's the thing; Erik tells me you are a cunning detective, do you think you can check this Vincenzo guy out for me—find out what his deal is? I have enough bricks on my shoulders as it is with Erik and that diva, I don't need more problems."
"Indeed, but regrettably dear lady, I no longer involve myself with matters of the law as I am retired."
"Nadir, you know more than I do about how this world works. Any assistance you can give me, even a background check on Vincenzo will help me out. Please, I am a damsel in distress, Monsieur." I said with pleading eyes.
The Persian smiled kindly, his white teeth shining like pearls from beneath his mustache. "Gabrielle, you do make it hard for a man to refuse you. I'll do whatever is in my power to find out about this fellow. Is it acceptable for me to correspond with you at the manor?"
"I don't see why not; Erik doesn't open my letters, at least I don't think he does."
"If he did, you would never know of it," he said with a sly wink.
"How true," I laughed. "He is the stealthiest person I've ever known, bar none."
I grabbed another sip of my coffee, replaced the cup on its saucer and rose to leave.
I thanked the Daroga for his time and hospitality. Nadir escorted me to the door and hugged me, a very uncharacteristic gesture for a man of his culture.
"Do not worry, Gabrielle; all will be as it should." He reassured me.
"Nadir, I only hope you are right."
Surreal; this Persian man who once policed a bloody nineteenth century country and the twenty-first century America woman forming an unlikely alliance over a man who would become a legend.
One visit down and one to go. My next stop was the St-Germain-des-Prés, the area of Paris where the Comtess de Chagny lived when in the city.
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Author's note: Antareh Gaav is Farsi for annoying idiot/cow
Please review and merci to my beta-gal Amy!
-Leesa