Sorry for making you wait, dear readers. The Memorial weekend was busy. I hope my boo-boos are not too bad. I haven't had time to consult my betas for this chappie. Enjoy!
XXOO-Leesainthesky
Chapter 81 Dr. DuPuis
"Erik, we're here! Quick, help me with my skirts," I whispered, suddenly in the mood to make haste.
Erik haphazardly brushed my skirts back into proper arrangement, in doing so, knocked my reticule to the floorboards.
At precisely the exact instant I bent to retrieve my purse, the driver pounded on the carriage door. Startled, I bolted upright, barely missing a head on collision with Erik's knees.
"We're 'ere", sir. Ought I wait fer ye?" inquired the cabbie.
"No-I mean, yes, give us a moment won't you, monsieur?" Erik sputtered.
"Wot ever pleases ye, sir. Damned randy French," he mumbled stepping away from the door.
"Gabrielle, you're perspiring, dear," Erik said, wrinkling his brow at me.
"Gee, Erik, I wonder why that is?"
Reaching into his waistcoat, he produced a handkerchief and pressed the silky cloth against my forehead, cheeks and décolletage. I retrieved my lacy version from the pocket of my cloak and and returned the favor.
Without warning, the driver, in a move of humorous defiance, opened the cab door. Erik and I gaped out at him. Our reward was snaggletoothed smirk. With no time to re-arrange my disheveled clothing properly, I tilted my chin up and stuck out my hand with the air of a noblewoman.
"Assist me, will you?"
"Kindly, Duchess." He bowed and took my hand to help me out of his rig. Acting like a queen emerging from my gilded coach, I stepped into the street. Immediately, I felt a small trickle of Erik's ardor decorate my thighs. A rumpled Monsieur DuPuis followed, also affecting a regal air, de rigur for Erik, and silently handed the man his fare.
"Thank ye, sir, 'ave a fine day." The man tipped his hat and winked at Erik. Erik colored and I turned my head, feigning indifference. He sidled up to me and touched my elbow. "Rude cur."
I chuckled, "Oh man, he knew about our debauchery—why, the man actually winked at you!" I held my sides and laughed harder.
"Madame, I find your choice of amusement rather ill—fitting."
"Don't pull the proper card with me; you're the one who insisted we copulate in that midget-sized cab."
"Humph. I ought to teach him a lesson in manners." Erik straightened his cravat and coat and slid a hand over his hair.
"Pity the poor fool, Erik. With hygienic habits like his, I imagine the only action he gets is the sort one lays down a pound note for."
"A sixpence, more than likely," Erik said. Mild disgust colored his voice.
"Youch," I whispered. "Come my randy dandy," I linked arms with Erik and walked up the steps of the mansion. "Let's see if the good doctor is in the house."
I was amazed to find Elizabeth in residence, since she dedicated enormous blocks of time to the hospital and various other worthy projects. Startled and delighted to see us, the gracious doctor invited us into her parlor, where we took tea and biscuits and chatted about everything and nothing.
Erik, tiring of the Christine story and our otherwise banal chit-chat, steered the conversation to the medical.
"Dr. Garrett, I wish to thank you for looking over my dear Gabrielle. She has assured me that your capable hands have kept her well and fit these past months. What I require of you is information. You see, I've embarked upon tedious research of the intricacies of my fiancée's condition, and of other matters of obstetrics. Gabrielle tells me that you are a forerunner in the science and I request your thoughts and ideas on the subject. You see, dear lady, I have a medical mind and I will be tending to my wife during the delivery of our child.
Elizabeth raised an elegant eyebrow at Erik. "I am impressed, monsieur, most men care not a whit about matters of the female body, but for one, of course."
Having just quelled Erik's interest in said matters, I studied my hands self-consciously. Erik responded to the doctor's words with a subtle smile.
"I shall be pleased to confer with you, Monsieur DuPuis, and Gabrielle as well. She has an astonishing amount of knowledge on the subject and I should wish for the three of us to be on the same page.
Erik and I embraced her words with a nod.
"How soon will you leave for Paris?"
"Another week and a half, after I complete my journalistic commitments."
"Having you close at hand is preferable to your being one country away from my Gabrielle's care, Dr. Garrett." Erik leaned into the divan's thick cushions, crossed one leg over the other and balanced his tea cup on his knee.
I glanced between the two. Erik wanted Elizabeth to travel to France and play personal physician to me, his pregnant fiancée. An endeavor I doubted she had the time for.
"Dr. Garrett, would you consider coming to the manor to oversee Gabrielle's delivery? I am prepared to pay you handsomely for your expertise," he asked.
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur DuPuis, but I am astoundingly busy with a research project. I could never sacrifice the time to be far from it for long."
Erik's countenance darkened with disappointment.
Elizabeth set her empty tea cup on the silver serving tray, laced her fingers together and rested her hands in her lap. She studied Erik for a moment. "However," she said tapping her thumbs against each other, "It may be possible for me to arrange a visit in the month before Gabrielle's expected date of delivery."
"You see, Erik, Elizabeth is a serious physician. She not only runs the hospital, but teaches at the university as well as tending to her patients."
Erik fiddled with his gold cufflinks and considered her generous offer. "Forgive me for my brash assumptions. My home—" Erik smiled and put his hand over mine, "Our home is in the French countryside not far from Paris; however I am willing to take no chances with Gabrielle's delivery. Regardless of whether or not a doctor or midwife is present, I want you to teach me all I need to know to care for my future bride and our unborn child, if you will be so kind, Madame."
Elizabeth's expression remained neutral, but I could tell by the way she sat forward that she was in agreement with Erik's request.
"Allow me to consult my planning book and my husband. I shall confirm the appointment via post, if it pleases you, monsieur DuPuis."
"Indeed, it does. I shall anticipate your arrival at DuPuis Manor in June. Now, if you've no objections, I am eager to begin our discussion on obstetrics."
Four the next four hours, Erik, Dr. Garrett and I poured over her research findings and answered Erik's rapid fire questions. From time to time,
I found the need to insert my own watered down knowledge of 21st century medicine—matters of bed rest, nutrition and the stages of delivery.
While I lived in Chicago, I had a good friend whose husband had deserted her the very month she discovered her pregnancy. I held her hand throughout her entire term, which earned me the honor of birthing coach. The classes and subsequent delivery taught me a world of practical information about birthing babies.
Even though modern monitoring tools would not accompany the birth, having the keen intellects of Erik DuPuis and Dr. Garrett at my side gave considerable rest to many of my fears.
We left Elizabeth's home in ample time to make our six o'clock train to Hastings. On the short trip back, I attempted to snooze, but my fiancé could not contain his curiosity. He kept me awake with his relentless questions of all things baby.
Sparing the delicate ears of our fellow passengers from our distasteful discussion, I quietly explained the importance of proper breathing techniques, monitoring my pulse and making sure that, once born, the infant was breathing properly.
"Suppose the babe cannot make delivery. What then?"
"Don't even think of it, Erik."
"But, Gabrielle, I need to know, in case—"
"Caesarian section."
"Yes, I've read about them. Not too successful for the mother are they?"
I paused before forming my reply.
"Progress has been made in the last twenty years, but it's still a risky endeavor, so is premature birth. All I can do is to pray there won't be any complications."
"Then I insist on bed rest for you, immediately."
"Whoa big fella, if I don't feel badly, there's no need to treat me like an invalid, at least until the last month or so."
"But you said—"
"Rest is important for a healthy baby, but so is exercise and fresh air. Nothing strenuous, working in the garden perhaps."
"If you are absolutely certain. I'll not have you taking chances, Gabrielle."
"Neither would I, sweetheart," I reassured him.
"It's nice to see spring coming early this year. I am over the cold weather. Do you think the rose garden will bloom as splendidly as last spring?" I asked, steering talk toward a less emotionally charged subject.
"They had a proper pruning in the fall. Some already have small green shoots appearing at the roots. You may be interested to know that that large bush with the red blooms and heavy thorns is no longer in there. I've been experimenting with different hybrids and came up with a superior rose which bears beautiful yellow blooms tinged with a coral pink aura."
"You did? Wow Erik, that is so cool, how you are able to do that. What have you named your creation?"
"It is an American beauty. The Princess Gabrielle rose."
Erik had chopped down the Christine rose bush and replaced it with a bush whose blooms were not a boring red, whose thorns were delicately effective, not thick sharp razors, a unique rose named Gabrielle.
Erik's endearment surprised me. To think of how hard he must have worked creating something so beautiful, so personal and timeless as a rose for me. I felt surrounded by a pure light, brilliant and warm with the love of this amazing man.
"Dear? I need to close my eyes for a while, if you don't mind?" I said.
"Why, of course, forgive me darling. The hour is late and I've been thoughtless of your needs haven't I?" Erik said, suddenly realizing how much the day's activity had worn on me.
"Here, use my body as your pillow." Gracefully, he unfurled his arm, offering me the safe haven of his embrace.
I gladly burrowed into the comfort of his soft cashmere cloak and drifted off.
"Gabrielle, my sweet, wake up," Erik whispered quietly and kissed the top of my head.
"Huh? Are we in Hastings," I asked groggy from the cat nap.
"The train is pulling into the station. You've slept for a good tow hours, shall I carry you?"
"Lord no, Erik. You'll throw your back out."
I sat up and straightened my cloak, when I did; I noticed a wet spot on the breast of Erik's expensive garment. I'd drooled on him in my sleep. Egad. I withdrew my handkerchief and blotted the spot.
"What in Pharaoh's name are you doing, dear?" he strained to see what I was doing.
"No matter, just a bit of, um, a wet spot where my mouth was, I've got it," I answered. Erik was meticulous about his clothes.
"Bah, pay it no mind. If I am to become a father, I should acquaint myself with drooling children shan't I?" He grinned playfully at me.
"I suppose you should."
My revenge can be a tiring undertaking. I was beyond thrilled to be back at the cozy cottage in the woods. Erik and I remained burrowed beneath the bed sheets long past noon. We were not engaged in deep meaningful lovemaking, but slumber.
After a quick brunch and a bath, Erik pinned me down for a good two hours of discussion, further quenching his thirst for knowledge on the subject of child birth. For the remainder of my day I labored over an article for Harper's.
At the eighth chime of the long clock in the upstairs hallway, Erik padded into the study and began to massage my shoulders.
"Gabrielle, you've been plying your craft for a considerable amount of time. Your hand and arms must be painfully stiff."
"You know it. Thank you for the break. You know how it is Erik, once a writer becomes enveloped in his or her work, you forget if it's day or
night." I chuckled.
"So true, but I insist you break for supper, darling."
Realizing how late the hour was, I twisted around to face him, "Oh Erik, you're hungry aren't you; I'm sorry, I thought you were equally engrossed in some work of your own.
"I completed my project over an hour ago."
"I see. I'm not terribly hungry, but I can make something for you to eat," I offered.
"I'm not concerned for me; it is you who needs proper nutrition. A piece of cake with milk does not signify a healthy supper, darling," he said eying the half finished glass of milk and the plate at my elbow, empty but for a few dark brown crumbs.
"Eggs, flour, butter, cream, those are healthy ingredients and it was a large piece of cake, plus I did have breakfast, Erik."
"Do not rationalize your bad habits with me Madame, up now. We'll go to the kitchen where I shall prepare something suitable for you and our child."
"You're going to wait on me? Awesome, let's roll then." I closed my leather writing portfolio and pushed away from the desk.
"Contrary woman, must I bribe you to care for yourself."
"Look here, big daddy, I've managed swimmingly on my own up to now, sometimes, become preoccupied. Honestly, have you ever known me to miss a meal?" I said sticking my hands on my hips indignantly.
"Come—to—me." Erik affected the tone of a mysterious Svengali, parting the air with his fingers and beckoning me forward with a graceful flourish. "I will ply you substance from the gods—"
Buying into his farce, I fixed my eyes and walked toward him in zombie fashion.
"Your wish is my command master," I dead panned as if I were an automaton. Erik took my hand and began leading me to the stairs.
"First, I shall serve you, and in turn for your gratitude, you will serve me in a more— lascivious fashion."
"Master—is—a—horny—goat," I said continued blankly.
Erik broke from character and paused in mid-step, "A horny goat, Madame? Really!"
I made the mistake of meeting his eyes, he looked completely serious. I broke down in a fit of giggles.
"I retract my former statement, you're not contrary, you're, impossible."
I formed my thumb and forefinger to signify a phone and held it to my ear.
"I dare you to recite that pot and kettle thing to me again," he warned.
"You know its true Erik, or should I say 'Mr. Contrary'?"
I continued to goad him. It had taken Erik many months before he learned to accept a good natured ribbing from me. I smiled seductively while slipping past him in the hallway. He grabbed for me but I ran for the stairs. My present condition sorely hampered my ability to flee and with Erik at my heels, I plopped down onto the smooth wooden stair-rail and slid the length of it to the first floor.
"Good heavens, Gabrielle, must you! "Erik trotted down the stairs after me.
"Oh shush; I am in total control, these silly skirts make for safe and smooth sailing," I laughed.
"You're completely daft." He raced to catch me at the foot of the banister. I beat him to it, but could not dismount fast enough and he me caught in his arms. Erik shook his head, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth."
"Another glorious reason you love me," I chimed.
Erik held my gaze for some time. Had I raised his ire? His expression was unreadable.
"Gabrielle, you are my dream, never, ever allow me to awaken from it."
"Me? Oh Erik, I'm no dream. I am your reality and you, are mine."
"None the less, I am astounded daily by my good fortune."
"Sweet man; and to think—you still long for me even though I'm increasing by the hour."
"Not to appear coarse, darling, but I think your protruding belly is fetching."
"Are you ill?"
"I don't mean the child, God no, Gabrielle, one thing I am not is a pedophile."
He stepped closer and ran his hands down the length of his waistcoat and regarded me with the look of someone about to recite a serious address.
"Gazing upon you, I marvel at the miracle which blooms inside you—knowing that the fruit of our joining has created a being uniquely ours. And when I glimpse your naked feminine form, full and glowing in the candlelight of the bedroom, I come near to weeping from the rapturous it brings me. Forgive my lack of self restraint, I cannot help but to burn for you, my luscious, omniscient woman."
Erik was serious and it humbled me."You think I'm sexy—wow, I know of men who are repulsed by their wife's baby belly—Elvis comes to mind. I did win the man prize when I fell for you. I swear it." I ran my hand down the front of his gray woolen waistcoat and hooked my finger into the waist band of his trousers. Leaning in as far as my girth would allow, I kissed the tip of his disproportionate nose.
"Such disbelief from a woman who views my physical abominable as desirable?"
"Erik DuPuis, in my book of absolute truths, I deem you a major hottie. I've never been drawn to obviously pretty men. I figure someone with flawless features is either gay or hiding a gross disfigurement of the soul. In those first months I lived at the manor, vivid sexual dreams of you crowded my nights. These dreams rattled my days. An attraction to Monsieur DuPuis? Illogical, destructive, I told myself. Yet how could a warm blooded woman of any century ignore a man with Orphic eyes, artful hands, virtuosic lips and graceful style? Erik, you possess an allure more seductive than the brightest aura."
"Dear God, Gabrielle, I am usually a perceptive man, but I—I cannot fathom why any ..."
"Why any woman, upon experiencing your mesmerizing prowess, arid humor and intriguing spirit wouldn't melt into a helpless woman-puddle? Sweetheart, had women of this age not been berated into seeking a mate based on societal precepts, I would be bereft of your love."
"so you say."
"I do."
"Then yours is the only opinion that matters to me."
"Precisely."
"Now, weren't you commanding my presence in the kitchen for the purpose of stuffing me full of nutritious morsels?"
Erik blinked."I was,indeed." He reached for my hand, but I eluded his grasp by skipping backwards down the main hall toward the cottage's vast stone kitchen. Erik followed, shaking his head.
Once there, I pulled out a kitchen chair, lifted my skirts up to straddle its stiff ladder back and rest arms across the top.
Erik eyed me with questionable approval.
"I'd like a spinach quiche, a fruit cup, and a glorious heap of fried potatoes with butter. Oh and a pot of Earl Gray too. You know how I take my tea." I rattled off my short order.
"Quiche will take an hour."
"If you look in the icebox, you'll find three quarter of the one I made yesterday morning, apples and pears too."
He lit the stove, and put on the kettle to boil before rounding up the proper utensils for setting the table.
I watched with amused interest as Erik frittered about the kitchen gathering foodstuffs for our meal. Not that my love was incapable of putting together a decent meal, in the past he'd always cooked for himself, but since I'd been hired for the duty, I'd prepared all the meals at the manor. For me it was not domestic drudgery—I liked messing around in the kitchen, plus it gave me something useful to do.
A whistle of steam signaled that the water was ready for brewing tea. Erik prepared two cups and carried them gingerly to the table.
"Here now, drink your tea dear, I've added a dash of honey, it will suit you much better than sugar."
I hid a smile into my cup and sipped a bit of the hot tea.
"Hey Erik, how are the Roux? I've missed them terribly."
"And they miss you. I think my dour attitude has worn on them of late. They will be pleased to have your fresh face back at the manor."
"Do you see much of your friend, the Daroga?"
"His usual monthly visit."
I nodded. Erik slid into the chair to my right. He lowered his chin a notch and regarded me from beneath his long, inky lashes.
"Erik, I contacted the Daroga before you left for Paris, I needed his expertise in a personal matter—"
"Yes, your inquiry about Signore Vincenzo."
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Thank you all, regular readers and newbies for your reviews. They are like water for chocolate to me.
More to come soon.
-Leesa