Welcome new readers. I cannot believe that after a full year of beginning this fic, I still have newbies coming aboard. Thanks to all of you for keeping my fingers busy this past year and to Barb and Amy, my lovely and talented betas--without them, this world be a mass of mistakes. Please, read on and enjoy,
-Leesainthesky
Ch 84 Nuptials
After spending the majority of two days aboard nineteenth century Europe's most expeditious mode of travel, the British Railway, with an impatient twenty-six week old knocking about my insides, Chicago's "L" was starting to look like a luxury conveyance. Erik and I left Hastings on a Friday, stopping only once after ferrying across the English Channel to the port city of Le Havre, in the province Seine-Maritime.The glories of spring in the European countryside, untainted by a progression of mega-malls, rambling cookie-cutter subdivisions and soaring steel towers adorned with satellite devices, flaunted their variegated flora with pride as if for the sole purpose of entertaining occupants in the passing trains.
Erik had procured a sleeping car for us, an extravagance reserved for those with the deepest pockets. Although the privacy was a welcome perk, it was a smushy situation for a tall man and his pregnant traveling companion. We were forced to sleep in small bunks fixed one atop the other. Our accommodations bore an inadequate closet and a mirror situated above a doll sized desk and chair.
We filled our time reading, he with one of Dr. Garrett's recent medical journals while I perused the pages of Rimbaud's lyrical prose, Illusions, between snatches of sleep.
Once aboard the ferry, our late night voyage across the channel was a welcome change from the claustrophobic quarters of the train. Due to the hour, few passengers accompanied us for the trip, a substantial relief for Erik. No matter how much confidence he'd gained in the past two years, tolerating the prying stares of the curious still made him immensely uncomfortable. Victorians were a suspicious lot.
Whenever Erik traveled to England, it was his habit to stay in the French port town of le Harve at the Hotel Petit Vatel. The proprietor knew him and appeared non-pulsed by his oddities. Erik's money was as good as anyone's and he was cleaner than most occupants were.
"Le Petit Vatel should have a vacancy for us, it shan't be long before I shall have you resting in a proper bed, darling," Erik soothed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
"Praise the Lord and pass the pudding!" I said, my voice hoarse from the pollen saturated night air.
"Yes, whatever that means," he replied with an affable snort as we left the platform in search of a porter.
"Finally, back on French soil," I said wistfully. We strolled across the docks leading to rue Louis Brindeau, where the inn lay sandwiched among a string of cafés, a barber shop? and a house of questionable repute, all whose fronts were beaten shabby by two centuries of saltwater.
"Being back on French soil . . . it is a good thing, no?" Erik questioned.
"I like it here. France has become my second home, the original one being light years away," I laughed.
"Home--yes. She has not always been the kindest of friends to me, but France is where I belong. I feel more at ease among her artistically tempered society than any other place. I was born not far from here."
"Were you?"
Erik seldom offered up details from his youth. I knew he was born in Rouen, but I'd no concept of the town's proximity to Le Havre.
"Lovely little place, pity my memories are of nothing but pain and darkness. It is where I learned that the carefree childhood afforded other boys was not available to a grotesquely deformed heathen." Erik scowled at the cloud littered horizon.
"Assholes," I swore.
He laughed. "What an eloquent way you have with words, my dear."
"We'll have to visit my birth country someday. It would be interesting to see America on the cusp of the industrial revolution -- to visit some of the places I used to know before they became my future-past. Do you think you'd like that Erik?" I peered up at him watching the wheels turn behind his eyes.
"We shall see. But first, my dear, you have a child to bear who will require a monumental amount of our time and attention."
I nodded my acquiescence. I felt Erik was playing the kid card as a strategy to avoid discussing a trip to America, a distant and unknown land. Later, I told myself. Tonight, I was too fatigued to even argue.
In spite of our room's damp, musky smell, it was clean, but the bed was narrow and hardly large enough for Erik's thin, long frame, much less a five foot five and a half inch woman whose shape resembled a Weeble.
"A 'Weeble'?" questioned Erik when I likened my body to the toy.
"A tiny doll. They wobble but they don't fall down -- well I haven't yet, anyway.
"Odd girl, but very likable," Erik teased. Quicker that I at undressing, he was already naked and sitting on the edge of the bed watching me peel off my layers.
"Come, my sweet mother-to-be, let's rest. I'll lie next to the wall, then you spoon against me and place your head in the crook of my arm," Erik instructed.
After significant positioning and shifting, Erik and I settled into an acceptable sleeping arrangement. I awarded the lone pillow to him, not so much out of the goodness of my heart but because it was filled with hen feathers that poked at me through the cotton pillow case.
If I'd harbored any fear of not sleeping in a strange bed, I'd worried for nothing. The both of us dropped into sleep as if we'd been running through a magic poppy field. Eight and one half hours later we awoke to the sounds of clucking chickens, bleating sheep and noises from the docks.
I lay in precisely the same position I'd fallen asleep, with my head on Erik's shoulder, my hips curled against him, his free arm wrapped protectively around my girth. And naturally, Erik had morning wood.
"Good morning, ma cheri," he murmured against my ear while softly stroking the underside of one breast.
"Oh no you don't, not until we're man and wife," I answered, taking his hand in mine.
"Cruel, cruel, Gabrielle. What difference does it make? If you've not noticed, Madame, I've already impregnated you."
"Self-control, darling -- it won't be that long.
"All right," he kissed my cheek, grunted and gently nudged me aside so he could rise and greet the day.
On the train, Erik had mentioned that, during his five month long search for me, he'd re-applied for the marriage license just before crossing the English Channel into England. It was a necessary that this be done in the area of his birth and since he was unwilling to grace Rouen with the honor of his presence, the French port city would have to do. It was convenient as well being the first stop on our return to Paris and DuPuis Manor.
Excited to become Madame DuPuis, I agreed to Erik's speedy plan.
Today was our wedding day.
Before bed, I'd taken care to hang up our best traveling clothes, hoping to shake out the folds and wrinkles incurred from packing.
When Erik embarked on his quest to find me, he'd intended to return not with a fiancée, but a bride in tow. I shuddered to think what would have happened had I refused his proposal of marriage.
Erik and I saw to our individual toilette and slipped into our wedding outfits.
If seeing the bride in her wedding clothes was bad luck, we would have to ignore the superstition. Aside from a thin changing screen, we had little privacy.
"Are you sure all of the papers you have are in order?" The question earned me a disdainful look.
"Naturally they are in order; the license, proof of birth, citizenship. I've procured everything necessary for a couple to marry legally in France," Erik replied, sliding a haughty look down his nose at me.
"Don't be insulted, dear, it's my nature to check and re-check details."
"Of course." He melted and came to embrace me.
"You look lovely, Gabrielle."
"So do you, Erik."
We both scoffed; he for not accepting that anyone would find him attractive and me for feeling like a bloated walrus dressed in sage green silk.
The Mairie, or town Hall, was one block from the inn. On the brief walk over, Erik purchase a bouquet of small white rose buds and presented them to me with a flourishing bow. "Your bridal bouquet, my sweet."
"Erik, thank you. They're so pretty and -- white." I giggled and plucked one out as a decoration for my hair.
"White, it is for the purity of our love. And if you think on it, Gabrielle, I was your first and only lover in this century."
"Ooh, wonderful logic, Erik. And remember, sweetheart, I was your first one, too." I rose on my toes to kiss for a quick smooch on the lips.
Erik smiled back at me. A whisper of a blush touched his cheeks. "And you shall be the last. How fortunate I am to have captured a futuristic vixen in the bowels of my former underground home."
"You know that's right, baby. And look at who I bagged; my very own legendary virtuoso--tres cool."
"Tres cool, indeed," Erik agreed.
"And I have something for you. I waffled over whether or not I should present this to you, not being a current day custom and all. But then I decided, 'what the hell', it seems like an Erik type of thing."
"You have me rife with anticipation. What is it, my darling?"
I loosened the satin braid of my reticule and withdrew a small black velvet box. I held it in my palm and offered it to Erik.
He hesitated, questioning me with curious jade eyes.
"Open it."
Graceful, long fingers plucked the small box from my hand and lifted the lid. For a long half a second, Erik starred at its contents. Pleasure crinkled at the corners of his mouth and one visible eye.
"A ring?"
"A wedding ring. I wanted to give you something special as a symbol of our union. It's not as grand as mine, but it is platinum, and the diamond is a nice one. Do you like it Erik?" I held my breath.
"It--is--amazing, Gabrielle."
"If you think you'll feel uncomfortable wearing it, you don't have to..."
"I shall wear this with pride." He appeased my fears of rejection by rewarding me with a beatific smile. He handed the box back to me. "For safe keeping until it is needed," he said.
We continued on, arm in arm, to the Mairie, a place used not only to procure all sorts of licenses, but for gathering one's mail and paying taxes.
"I spoke with the Conseiller Municipal on the way to London," Erik whispered when we entered the vestibule of the stone and clapboard building.
I arched my eyebrows at him, "Did you now. What if I had said no?" I teased.
"No was never an option," Erik answered somberly, looking me in the eyes.
Arrogant man. How dare he assume that I would automatically obey his commands simply because he was Erik, the grand wizard?
Due to an over abundance of wacky hormones or fatigue, his presumptuousness began to tick me off.
I pulled my hand from his grasp and spun to face him. "Is this how it is going to be Erik? You decide what is best for me and I just--do it? Last night you said you didn't want an automaton for a wife. Now that the knot is about to be tied, you're showing your true colors, is that it?" I fumed.
He gaped at me and stepped toward me. "Gabrielle, what is the matter with you? I thought you wanted this. If not, now is a bloody bad time to say so."
"I do want this-I want you, what I don't want is for you to expect compliance to your every wish and command. I thought we'd agreed, I am your partner, not your underling, Erik."
"You are my equal, Gab--"
"Then act in accordance. While we're on the subject of submission, I think it wise to strike 'obey' from my vows. I did not intend to have it in my twenty-first century nuptials and I do not intend to have it now. God is the only one I deem worthy of obedience. Nothing personal, Erik, but I will not pledge obedience to any man as if I were his prized hound--unless you intend to reciprocate in kind."
"In Latin 'to obey' means 'to listen deeply.' Is that not the original language of the church's King James transcription?"
"Maybe, but that's not the interpretation of the word by those who read it. I rather think that men enjoy the misinterpretation of 'the Word', it's piously convenient. It denotes slavery, blind obedience, and second class citizenry."
"Gabrielle, I do hope you forgive my overbearing nature. Assertive coercion was once my sole modus operandi. From your gentle, open kindness have I learned that such means are an unnecessary and degrading way to encourage someone to love you. And this word, 'obey,' it is a simple word, a tradition which means nothing--"
"Nothing, Erik? If you can say that a word of our marriage vows means nothing, then you infer that all of the vows mean nothing."
"I daresay, woman, you've grown beyond contrary!" Erik rolled his eyes heavenward.
"Strong words from the most dictatorial man I've ever met," I countered.
"Dictatorial, Madame?" his eyes shot sparks. "Perhaps it is you who are the dictator. Always instructing me how to do this, and act like that. I am a man used to my solitude, you cannot expect me to become wholly well-disposed overnight!" He raised his voice to an impatient hiss.
"Holy merdé, Erik, we have been engaged for ten months and in each other's company a year before that. You've had ample time to mellow out. I will not be ordered about by you, or any man." My ire rose with my voice.
I glanced over at a frail looking man sitting behind an enormous oak desk and noticed he was staring at us from behind a pair of John Lennonesque spectacles.
"Gabrielle, you're behaving like a silly chit, we are getting married now!" he whispered through clenched teeth, grabbing me by the forearm and swinging me around to face him.
"You..." I spat, ripping my arm from his hold.
Erik threw his hand to his side and exhaled a lengthy sigh, "Having been imprisoned by men and even by my own accord, I would never--I love you, Gabrielle. Honestly, I wish to marry you, not possess you."
I paused at the threshold to the main door. Erik came up behind me, enveloped me in his arms and held me, resting his chin on my head.
"Gabrielle, let's not have this dissension between us a second longer," he cooed in my ear.
I bowed my head, ashamed by my bi-polar outburst.
"Yes, Erik, let's get married." I tipped my face up to nuzzle the underside of his smooth shaven chin. "That is if you think you can survive another few months with a bitchy pregnant woman."
"If you will spend your days with a crazy man who loves you insanely," he countered.
"Who else would have us?" I nipped at his chin dimple and laughed.
-()-
A wedding, whoot!
Please, thrill me with your reviews.
-Leesa