Back together again! Thanks for the wonderful reviews and advice. Thanks Amy and Barb, my beta's.
-Leesainthesky
Ch 74 Compromise
I lay my cards before Erik: Allow me two more weeks to complete my writing assignments and I would willingly go back to France with him; otherwise, he was up for a fight.
Erik got to his feet and stared down at me. Keeping my expression soft, I met his gaze and waited for an answer.
He pursed his lips and scanned my face with his eyes. Perhaps he was looking for a sign that told him how very serious I was. He remained silent.
"My work, it's important to me, Erik. I'm not the sort of woman who can sit home day in and out, doing needlepoint. I welcome motherhood, but I need mental stimulation as well," I answered the unspoken question between us.
He clenched and unclenched his hands, an action I found most unnerving.
"Two more weeks in Hasting," he said.
"Yes, to complete my obligations," I answered.
"No more than two weeks."
"You have my word, Erik."
I watched one corner of his mouth twitch, his gaze rising to the window.
"Well—perhaps I could alter my schedule to accommodate you for so short a time," he said with an even tone.
"That would be good."
I looked up at him. From my vantage point on the floor, Erik seemed a birch tree of a man, pale, thin, impossibly tall and strong. Suddenly I felt small, like Alice from Wonderland after she took a bite from the magic mushroom.
With my knees bent, I shifted into a crouch and lifted my hands toward Erik.
"Help me up, please."
He reached down to take my hands, and pulled me to my feet. I smoothed out the back of my bunched-up dressing gown and then shook my right foot.
"Ah, better; my feet were going to sleep from sitting in one position for so long. I need to visit the water closet too, if you'll excuse me for a moment."
Erik grabbed my upper arm.
"What is it?"
"I—nothing. A reaction, that's all, Gabrielle," he said rather sheepishly.
He assumed that once I was out of his sight, I might flee, I realized.
"I'll be right back. The baby pushes on my bladder so I spend a good amount of time in the 'WC'."
"My word, most inconvenient," Erik muttered.
"Especially with long dresses and pantaloons," I winked.
Off I rushed for relief; taking a moment to untangle my wild mane, brush at my teeth and splash water on my face.
When I returned to my bedchamber, Erik was sitting on the bed, hands folded, looking dazed.
"I'm going to the kitchen. Would you like for me to fix you coffee or tea?"
Snapping out of his trance, Erik shot me a surprised look. "Coffee, yes—certainly."
"Then come now," I smiled and motioned for him to follow me, which he did, coming to rest in one of the high backed kitchen chairs while I put on water to heat and busied myself with fixing fromage omelets for our breakfast.
"Gabrielle."
"Yes, Erik?"
I stirred the eggs and cream and poured half of the concoction into a buttered omelet pan.
"Tell me about this letter you are supposed to have received from me when I was in Paris."
"It arrived by special delivery, just as you detailed. The letter bore your red wax seal and your signature. The note itself was typewritten. I assumed you'd come across a typewriter and decided to utilize the impersonal method for the purpose of writing my kiss off note." I looked up from my cooking.
Erik frowned. "Typewriter, indeed! As interested as I may be in new inventions, I would never utilize such an impersonal and cold machine for corresponding."
"From the day Christine came back into your life, I walked about on eggshells. What with the wedding postponement, your trip to Paris and then finding that horrible lair of yours with the shrine—well, my emotions were raw. I was primed and ready to accept rejection; half expected it; whatever method you used was secondary to the message."
I sprinkled a generous amount of cheese into the pan and flipped the omelet onto a plate.
"I suppose I should have smelled a rat, but with all that had transpired between us and on top of my pregnancy, my muddled mind could not think clearly. Now that you're here and I can touch you and talk to you, I realize that you would never treat me that way. It has been said that distance makes to heart grow fonder, I think it makes the mind grow dimmer."
Erik shoved his chair away from the table with a screech. He walked over to where I stood at the stove and put his large hands on my shoulders.
"Gabrielle, even if I chose to end our engagement, I would never do so in a letter. Beast thought I may be, I endeavor to be a gentleman," his voice was as warm as summer against my neck.
I flipped the other omelet onto a plate and turned to face him.
"Of course you wouldn't. But who would?"
I had my suspicions.
Erik took both plates from my hand. I smiled inwardly at the gesture and wondered if he thought it was too cumbersome for me to carry now that I was with child.
"I daresay Christine may be the culprit. When I spurned her, she became hysterical, threatened to harm herself. I do not believe the woman is well, Gabrielle."
"But you told me that she felt awful for my leaving you, that's why she contacted you about seeing my 'brother' at the opera in London. That doesn't sound like a woman obsessed to me."
"She did calm herself after a while and confided that the stress of losing the young Comte and having to deal with the legalities of his estate were too much for her to bear. Then she found I was alive and well. It is fortunate that she has a son away at school; else I fear she might end her life. During the brief time I spent in her company, I witnessed a chameleon's repertoire of erratic mood changes."
Bi-polar, I thought to myself.
"And her grief has her reminiscing and romanticizing about her past. It's only natural I suppose," I said, while walking to the icebox for butter and cream. Passing the sideboard, I grabbed a basket of yesterday's croissants and a jar of marmalade.
"How did she find out?"
"Around five years ago when the opera houses began producing my compositions, she attended one of my operas. Christine recognized my music. When she learned that the music belonged to the composer Erik DuPuis, she knew it was me."
"Ah, I see."
Erik stood to pull out my chair for me.
"In the note, it said that there was money in the hookah in your music room for me to take and use for my new life. How on earth would anyone know a detail like that?" I asked.
"While there is money in the hookah, I intended it for use should you require immediate funds. As for the matter of going to Venice, I did indeed travel to the city for business. Whoever intercepted my letter read these facts and fashioned them into the counterfeit letter which you received."
"If your investigations lead you to discover that Christine is indeed behind this affair, what will you do Erik?"
The Comtess had pissed me off royally, but I had zero desire to see her suffer Erik's murderous wrath. Previous devotion notwithstanding, I knew Erik would not treat a deception of this magnitude with kid gloves.
"I—do not know for certain. I am very much inclined to break her lily white neck in reward for her monumental betrayal. But, alas, I made a promise long ago to my dear Persian friend that I would murder no more, not unless I was faced with life or death."
Erik's voice was polite and cold; it sent spikes of icy shivers through my veins.
"If she is at the bottom of all this mess, I do want her to know that we have uncovered this secret debauchery, but I do not want you to physically hurt her, Erik."
Christine was a desperate child of a woman, one who played desperate games. Exposure was often shame enough in matters of the heart.
Erik answered me with confident restraint, "No, I've never willingly harmed a woman, Gabrielle. But mark my words, I shall have a face to face with her and soon."
"I've known you nearly two years now, and so far I've seen you back away from few confrontations," I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my hands over my stomach.
He picked up his coffee, stirred in one teaspoon of honey, and took a hearty sip.
"Turkish coffee, a delightful surprise."
"You've passed your exotic taste for it onto me. I drink little of it now that I'm pregnant."
He raised his one visible eyebrow.
"Some studies show that excessive amounts of caffeine aren't good for the unborn child, same goes for alcoholic beverages."
"Really, now?"
"Yep, there are a lot of things people of your time don't know about pre-natal health. I've even had to fight Dr. Garrett, who is an excellent physician, on a few points."
"Fascinating. You must fill me in later on all you know. Look, Gabrielle, do you still have that typewritten letter in your possession?"
"I think I crumpled it up and threw it in the bottom of my carpet bag, which is in the very back of my closet, upstairs. As soon as you're done with breakfast, you can help me dig it out. There are some heavy boxes in front of it," I said.
"I still cannot believe that a woman of your intellect could believe that I wrote it,"
Erik scowled at me from across the table.
"And I still cannot believe a man of your intellect could think that I'd wait complacently by at home, while her fiancé traipses off to visit his former love interest," I countered.
"Gabrielle, when it comes to fairer sex, I know shit."
"Amen to that, Monsieur." I toasted his quip with my coffee cup and laughed at his use of the English expletive.
Erik snorted indignantly, but smiled anyway. "Well, it took you no time to reacquaint yourself to my touch; perhaps I do know a little about pleasing a woman."
Confused and somewhat miffed with myself over the ease in which I surrendered to my lusts, satiating them with this man from whom I'd been hiding, I ducked my head and blushed.
Why did he have to bring that up?
I'd a feeling this morning would stretch into a long afternoon of discussions with the elegant green eyed man staring at me from across the kitchen table.
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-Leesa