Finally, over 1-K in reviews! I'm smiling big. Merci beaucoup X-1K! (To MOD who read the entire text up to Ch 82 in record time, you get a bottle of eye drops).
- Leesainthesky
Ch 83 Dialogue
"Nadir told you?" I struggled to hide my dismay.
The man whom I'd confided in to dig into the nosey Signor Vincenzo's past had squealed to Erik about my request. Sure, I knew the former Persian Police Chief was Erik's closest ally, but I'd imagined him trustworthy to a fault.
Freaking great, I thought sourly.
"I can tell when Nadir is sleuthing about. Others may not, but I always know. Plus, he sent you a letter. Since you no longer lived at the manor." assumed any deliveries belonged to me.
"You're not perturbed that I didn't consult you first?"
"Well I was, at first. I suppose my ego was bruised."
"Don't be upset, Erik. I don't doubt your capabilities, but Nadir wouldn't be as tempted to kill the nosy Italian as you would."
"If he were to threaten you, I would have little qualms about silencing his malicious intent, dear."
"Um Hum, I know," I shot him a dark look.
"It's of no consequence at the moment is it?" Erik splayed his hands out in a gesture of indifference. Per your request, the former Daroga did delve into Vincenzo's background."
"What did he find out?" I asked little too anxiously.
"Tell me, Gabrielle, what isit about the man that troubles you?"
"It's in his manner. He's plays mental hide and seek with me and I don't like it one damn bit. I sense a sinister under-layer of intent in his tone whenever he compliments me; his eyes bear a look that says, 'I know things about you, intimate things.' I'm telling you, Erik, he's being very 'cloak-and-dagger' with me."
"An unsavory fellow indeed." Erik clenched his jaw and scowled at a memory. "I recall his solicitous flattery when I introduced you to him at the Lyric in Paris. While I was conferring with the owner, I caught Vincenzo ogling you. It was then that I wished to teach the fulsome dandy a lesson in manners at the end of my Punjab lasso."
"Oh geez, Erik—tell me you don't still carry that thing around?"
"You needed worry my dove; it is my companion only for the purpose of protection. I find the lasso less messy than a knife and far more elegant than a firearm."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I said. Justified or not, Erik needed to steer clear of violence.
Another problem I had with confronting Vincenzo was his position as manager of the Lyric, the only opera House in France daring enough to showcase Erik's cutting edge work. It was also the only Opera House in France where Erik dared do business.
Thinking about the Italian made me anxious. I started tapping a table leg with my foot. "I recall Vincenzo insisting we'd met when he was in New York City on business two years ago in June, precisely the same time Tony and I were shooting the television show. Naturally, he didn't say he'd been there in June of 2005; however, I felt that he inferred it."
Erik listened intently while setting the table, taking care to lay the utensils in their proper order; knife and spoon to the right, forks to the left with a napkin artfully arranged in the center of the plate.
"Fruit?" he asked.
"Yes, please."
He placed a bowl of fresh apple slices blended with cinnamon and honey before me and dished out enough to serve three people.
"The second time Vincenzo attempted a connection between us was after the opening night of Femme du Nord. Do you remember, Erik?"
"Certainly, he cornered us by the stage door as we made to leave. His aim, so he claimed, was to congratulate me on the night's success. Then he addressed you—something about having known an American scientist by the name of Jonathan Thomassen. You did well to appear non-pulsed by his words."
"I was dumbstruck … felt as if he'd dropped a bomb on me, and then he asked if we were related in some way. Dad claimed his mother named him after a marginally renowned fourteenth century Norwegian poet favored by his mother. I've seen the Thomassen family tree, Erik; there's not another Jonathan Thomassen on any branch of it. Vincenzo is angling for something, but what and why?"
Erik removed an oven pad from the iron hook next to the stove. "Perhaps you do know the man, Gabrielle."
I shook my head, "Not in the least, and the dude creeps me out."
Pulling the warm quiche from the oven, he placed the pan on the table, cut two large pieces and arranged them on our plates.
"A more lady-like position should allow for better access to your food, dear," Erik suggested.
I stuck out my tongue at him, untangled my feet from the chair rungs and reversed my position to face the table.
"Equally lady-like behavior, darling," Erik said dryly.
"I'm telling you, Erik, I have searched the farthest corners of my memory from every interview and boring network schmooze-fest to Dad's colleagues—even my former elementary school-mates. I came up with nothing, nada, zippo."
I sampled a small bite of the quiche, touching it to my lips to test its heat.
"After the 'Christine incident' interrupted my semi-charmed life, I employed Nadir to dig up any facts on Vincenzo and then I got that faux letter and left France before he could get back to me. A storm of other concerns followed, temporarily washing the situation from my mind, and, well, you know the rest."
Erik finished chewing a bite of apple. "My solitary contact with Vincenzo was in a letter where he relayed to me his gratitude for the success of Femme du Nord, in which he wrote, 'I would be remiss as a gentleman not to bid a cordial greeting to your lovely fiancée, Gabrielle'. I thought the man rather forward in his address," Erik snorted, reaching for the kettle.
"More, dear?"
"Mmm, please." I held out my teacup.
"And what of Nadir, did he get anything on him?" I asked.
"When I questioned him about your commission, he confessed to tracing Vincenzo from his lofty tenure at the Lyric Opera House, to floor manager at the Majestic in Manchester and on to Vienna where our Italian friend worked as a music shop clerk."
"Fairly insignificant, so far," I commented
"That's not all. Nadir followed his path to New York City."
"New York? No! Did Nadir say what he was doing there?"
"Apparently the fellow served as a copywriter for a weekly periodical in the city, the trail terminates from there, Nadir found no record of any relatives either. It is as if our Signor Vincenzo walked out of the mist."
"And that is my biggest fear. That Vincenzo is somehow not of this time."
"Another time traveler?"Chère merde—non possible!"
"My exact sentiments, as for not being possible, well—hello!" I spread my arms wide and pointed at myself.
Erik inclined his head in acknowledgment. His lips curved into a smile. "And an exquisite phenomenon you are. What I wrestle to absorb is how in the devil Vincenzo knew to find you here. Why would he care? Could it not be simple coincidence, Gabrielle?"
"Coincidence is another word for fate, Erik. Signor freaky-deaky says leading things to me. He winks and smiles with an air that says; 'I know your little secret, Gabrielle.' This hunch I have about him—it's not good."
"It angers me to see he's frightened you. Should he dare harm you, I will send him to meet his Maker." Unseen storm clouds darkened Erik's eyes.
"If we've any luck, he's forgotten about me since I've been in England these past months," I said watching the tea leaves settle into the bottom of my china cup.
"Heaven forfend the Italian intermeddler bother you again. I strongly recommend you avoid any contact with him, are we agreed, Gabrielle?"
It really wasn't a question.
"Your recommendation is respectfully noted," I said leaning against the chair's ladder back.
I hoped he wouldn't detect my crossed fingers beneath the table.
Two weeks raced by like the second place horse at the Kentucky Derby. In mere days, I would be on my way back to my home in the French countryside.
With various articles completed, edited (by Erik) and sent out for publication, I now focused on packing my belongings. In five months, I'd accumulated a significant amount of items to add to my meager cache, requiring me to borrow a trunk from Mary Ann.
Dr. Garrett visited twice to check on my progress and further Erik's medical education. Even though I anticipated returning to the manor, a dull melancholy nagged at me when I thought of leaving Scalands cottage and my dear comrades.
After supper on the evening before our departure, Erik and I enjoyed a pleasant evening together. He played the piano while I sat in an overstuffed reading chair listening and fuzzing in and out of a contented fog.
Suddenly Erik's smooth tenor replaced the golden notes drifting from the small Wornum upright.
"Gabrielle, I've been searching my mind as to why I insist on remaining a reclusive. I do realize you are not one to share my penchant for solitude. Because of your influence in my life, I've dared meet a bevy of intelligent and gracious people who stimulate my humor and who accept me, eccentricities and all. Our home will always be open to your intimates, Gabrielle."
"Why, thank you, sweetheart." I was proud of Erik's painstaking efforts to accommodate my own distinctive needs.
"I'm blessed to have found friends who are among this century's brightest stars, not only do they possess intelligence, but enormously good taste. Naturally, they accept you Erik, you're not just another artsy-fartsy sycophant—you are an original. My circle sees you as 'Monsieur DuPuis, the mysterious phenom'."
"Your belief in me is humbling, Gabrielle."
"It is you who humbles me. When you engage an instrument, be it piano, violin or voice, I enter a sensual realm of sound and light—a place where your every movement, expression and note mesmerizes. I fall completely under your spell," I sighed.
Erik spun around on the piano bench, startling me. "Never again say those words to me."
"What words?"
"Darling, you're aware of my thaumaturgical powers—of how I once employed such methods to seduce others into doing my bidding. I never, ever wish to engage them upon you—participation in my life must be by your choice, not my manipulations."
"Rest assured it is by choice, sweetheart."
Erik's eyes narrowed and he scrutinized me closely before he spoke, "Gabrielle, when you listen to me play, have you ever felt as though you were in a trance?"
"No, my response to your music is impassioned. The notes seep into my skin, touch nerves and course through my bloodstream and into my heart. Other poignant pieces have a similar effect, though not as intensely as what I experience with you. Your artistry may alter my mood, but not my will."
"Good, music should transport one to a higher realm. Do promise me if your rapture morphs into phantasma, implore me to stop or depart from my presence immediately. The ability to hypnotize others into obedience is addictive and dangerous. I do not want an obedient zombie for a wife."
"What, no servile little Victorian mouse for you? Uncountable men would befriend Mephistopheles if they could sample a portion your persuasive skills, Erik."
"Not I. A malleable mannequin is not my ideal mate and you, Madame Thomassen, are not formed from that mold. You, my dear, are a spirited young woman, who inspires me greatly."
"Sixty thrills a minute huh?" I grinned.
"Absolutely."
Erik slapped his hands against his knees and stood. "The hour is late and we've a significant amount of work to do before our departure. I think we ought turn in for the night. Are you with me, my sweet?"
"I suppose I should turn in," I said, accepting Erik's outstretched hand. I was weary, my back ached mightily, and my body begged for rest, but my personal gerbil had become restless, visions of babies, packing, weddings and a sleazy Italian, spun within the little wheel in my head.
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- Leesa