Hi all, I've been busy celebrating the 4th of July, but now it's back to work we go. I hope you're ready for another chapter. Please follow up with a review for me. Props to Barb and Amy, my beta's for the quick turnaround on this chapter.
-Leesainthesky
Ch 89 Things Unexpected
Marie insisted on helping me with my morning toilette. During our time together, she filled me in on family news. Her niece Meg Giry, had married the Marquis de Lille, thus clearing the path for the former ballerina's mother to retire her station as Ballet mistress at the Paris Opera. Marie also lectured me about the imprudence of going abroad unescorted and living alone. My good-bye note also displeased her.
"It pains me that you did not see fit to wait for Henri and me to return from holiday, Gabrielle. We take pride in out trustworthiness and we care greatly for your, my dear."
"And for that I am grateful. Please forgive me, Marie. I know I can depend on you, I was quite confused at the time I penned that note," I said, my tone pregnant with regret.
"And deserting poor Monsieur DuPuis; he'd not a clue as to what inspired your flight. When you left no hint of your whereabouts, it was my duty as an honorable woman to tell him of your condition. It was the only estimable choice. I do hope you understand."
I sighed. "I'm actually glad you did. That letter, Marie—it threw me into a more volatile state than I was already."
"Yes, Monsieur DuPuis wrote us of it when he discovered you in Hastings. If you'd only waited until marriage to go to his bed, perhaps the entire mess could have been avoided."
I'd learned that in antiquated times such as these, it was de rigur to believe that what upset the apple cart usually had to do with a woman's un-virtuousness.
"Well, we are married now, Marie, and that's all that matters," I retorted.
"I issued Monsieur DuPuis a verbal throttling for his treatment of you. Regardless of your lack of proprieties, no woman wishes to be put on a shelf for another. Oh, there was never a question of his devotion to you, Gabrielle. Why, even my Henri admonished Monsieur DuPuis for his discourtesy. Henri said that he'd not find another woman as agreeable and would be the best of fools not to marry you the instant he found you."
"Really, he did? Brave man, that Henri of yours." This coaxed a grin from her.
"Monsieur felt terrible for botching the whole affair. Said he only wished to confront the unfortunate Comtess and put to rest their previous business, nothing more. Wicked woman--when she was under my sister's tutelage, she was a sweet and demure thing. Money changes people, Gabrielle," Marie warned.
"Christine is not well, Marie."
"Not well indeed," she scoffed.
I redirected the conversation.
"How are you and Henri and his stable of friends?"
"Winter was hard on my knees--most likely the reason Monsieur DuPuis hired the girl. Henri survived with nary a cold and his horses and cats are all healthy. I do think they missed you. Dante scarcely ate for three weeks after you left."
"The big baby. I'd best deliver an arm load of apples and carrots to the stable and beg forgiveness from my dear quadrupeds."
I rifled through my maternity clothing and chose a cream colored day frock. "This one's not too wrinkled from traveling," I said, giving it a vigorous shake. I hoped it fit, as I was growing daily.
"I nearly forgot … a sign of my increasing age I would imagine; Monsieur DuPuis sent one of your gowns to me, with instructions to purchase more of a similar style but more accommodating for your increasing girth."
"He what? No kidding."
"Your husband has made number of alterations in your name, Madame. You cannot believe bathing facility he created—"
The CD in my head was still stuck on the new wardrobe and her additional comments did not register. "Which dress was it, Marie?"
"The brown one with flowers embroidered on the bodice and hemline. I expedited his request in time for your imminent return to the manor. I was not certain when to expect your arrival. The two of you are as stubborn as two old hens."
Hello, Madame won't-budge-an-inch, I chuckled inwardly.
"The gowns are in your armoire, and there are shoes to match."
I approached the wardrobe with amused caution. Erik did like to dress his women. Inside I discovered a dozen lightweight gowns in a prism of spring colors and quality materials. Maternity gowns of the time were equipped with fanciful pleats and ribbons that adapted to the baby's growth. I withdrew a crisp new rose gown trimmed with grosgrain ribbon. Nothing fussy, but it did have a neckline that I deemed rather low for daytime. I slipped the frock over my chemise-clad frame. It fit perfectly.
Marie nodded her approval and assisted with tying the adjustable closures.
"Tell me about this new maid Erik has hired," I said.
"Polite enough, timid one moment then excitable the next; for a time she served as a nanny. Erik thought you might enjoy having a maid to care for the less interesting duties of motherhood."
Fun stuff like washing dirty nappies, I hoped.
"Your husband, oh my, I cannot believe you are finally wed, he interviewed some twenty girls before choosing Mademoiselle Caruso.
"Tending to the washing and scrubbing now falls on her shoulders. Perhaps he deems me too worn-out for those duties; I suppose my rheumatism has been trying of late," she said, rubbing at her arthritic fingers."
"I'd say extra help is a good thing, Marie. You'll have more time to visit your children."
"Henri said much the same to me."
"Is she amiable?"
"Mademoiselle Caruso follows instructions well enough, though she is somewhat frightened of the master of the house. Of course, everyone is upon first meeting him."
"And then they discover he's just a puppy in wolf's clothing."
She snorted at me. "A puppy, indeed. Yours are the words of a bride smitten with her new husband."
"Yes," I beamed up at her. "And I couldn't be happier if I were dipped in chocolate and rolled in nuts."
"Nuts you say ... you and Monsieur DuPuis are a suitable match if ever there was one."
"Ha! You got that right, sister," I said, not able to censure my tongue. I laughed so hard I yanked a ribbon out of Marie's hands.
"Do be still. That odd language of yours, Gabrielle. Honestly, you must have been quite a handful for your parents."
I thought of my poor, worried father.
"There, all done. Sit and I will brush out your hair."
"I'm capable, Marie."
"Sit. You are the Lady of the manor and a soon to be a mother. Allow me the pleasure."
The words of a mother whose nest was empty.
"How is Caron, Marie? I missed her uplifting letters."
"Caron is doing splendidly. I have my fourth grandchild, a beautiful baby girl," she beamed.
"Oh, right, she was expecting. A hearty congrats to you, Marie—when did it happen?"
"March nineteenth. Caron was fortunate to have had an easy delivery. You never know what to expect with the first one."
"I know," I said to the little fellow wedged between my bladder and my lungs.
"Do not worry, my dear. I will be by your side for your blessed event."
I did not want to hurt her feelings but I planned on having Erik and, if time allowed, Elizabeth by my side, but I reasoned that the help of an accomplished midwife was a plus in any century.
"Knowing you'll be near is comforting, Marie. With you, my doctor friend from London and Erik assisting me, I have every confidence that all will be well."
Marie stopped brushing my hair and peered around to look me in the eyes. "Oh no, my dear, you must be mistaken. Erik cannot be with you during delivery."
"He's been studying childbirth and delivery, Marie. You know how brilliant Erik is. He is a quick study, his mind absorbs everything. It will be wonderful for him to witness the miracle of birth."
Madame Roux turned pale as London fog, her mouth shrunk into a thin line, and she gawked at me as if I were an alien."
"Gabrielle, only poor provincial women allow their husbands to help with a birthing—even then it is only practiced when no other capable women is at hand. You are neither poor nor provincial."
Naturally, I could not divulge to her that I'd given him tips on basic twenty-first century obstetrics.
"I want my husband with me. I trust Erik."
"It simply is not done."
"He wants to be with me, Madame," I said. My voice rose with my insistence.
"I won't have it!"
"You won't have it? I am the Lady of this manor now and what I say goes, and I say my husband will be delivering our baby."
"Then you are improper and immoral," she snipped.
"Marie!" I could not believe my ears.
"For nearly two years I have turned a blind eye to the nefarious activities in this house; your odd wardrobe, feminist ideas, and casual manner. Even when you became Monsieur DuPuis' lover, I looked away. Henri told me, 'let the man be happy, Marie, his life has been a river of suffering. Gabrielle is good for him,' but this—it is all too much!"
Dumbstruck and hurt, I gawked at her. "I'll admit to being unconventional, but who did you expect Erik to take up with, a demure innocent such as your Caron? Erik and I have an unusual and sacred relationship. Our lives step to an alternate beat, we've had to, to survive, Marie. It is not shameful for one's husband to witness the delivery of his children, it's—beautiful."
"I will not tolerate it!"
Marie Roux slammed my mother of pearl hairbrush down on the vanity to punctuate her point then strode briskly out of the room without closing the door.
Well, congratulations and welcome back, Gabby.
I turned to my reflection in the vanity mirror and finished fixing my hair. Within three minutes, Marie stormed back in with Erik at her heels.
"Madame Roux, this is not your affair. It is the exclusive decision of my wife and me." Erik's proclamation was terse.
Marie whirled around on her sensible black shoes and pointed a finger at him. "It is not proper, Monsieur."
"I have been trained by a worthy physician. Gabrielle is my wife and she carries my child. What, pray tell, is possibly improper about that?"
"Men should not see something so, intimate," she whispered.
"Intimate, Madame? And how do you think Gabrielle became pregnant in the first place?" he bellowed.
My eyes popped in surprise at Erik's inference of "the act" coupled with his use of the indelicate "P" word. Marie's mouth literally fell open. She was seething but unwilling to have a total meltdown in front of the former Opera Ghost. Erik realized his mistake.
"Madame Roux, pardon me, I mean you no disrespect. Times are not what they once were. Being with Gabrielle at the time of our child's birth—I can think of nothing more loving and more proper." Erik sounded like a father soothing an irritable child. "Please, Madame, can we not come to terms on the matter? My wife and I would be bereft should you resign."
Marie stood rigid, crossed her arms over her bosom and glared defiantly at nothing in particular. Was an internal struggle taking place between Erik's valid words and her staunch nineteenth century Catholic upbringing?
Erik perched on the edge of my chaise and gestured to the opposing chair.
"Do sit down, Madame. Dear Marie, if my attendance during the birthing embarrasses you, then you needn't witness the event. I shall require someone to assist in other ways. Keeping the environment and tools sanitary, providing clean linens and assisting Gabrielle with other womanly necessities. But do be clear; I will be in the room with my wife." Erik was stern yet gentle with the older woman.
Marie pursed her lips and remained silent for some time. Finally, she looked pointedly at Erik and spoke. "Monsieur DuPuis, I do not pretend to understand a great deal of what you and Madame DuPuis engage in. Henri and I know of your history, Monsieur, it is no secret and I hold nothing against you as you have always been fair and kind to my family. Unprecedented though your wishes are, I will respect them. This is, after all, your home."
She bowed her head at Erik and I expelled a long sigh of relief. The battle of wills was over. There was no spilled blood and our side had won.
From that day on Marie was more of a pussycat and less of a lioness concerning her roll as a midwife. Whenever Doctor visited for my check-ups, Marie was pleasant enough, but after Elisabeth left, she would resume her house work while shaking her head and twittering on about the absurdity of female doctors. Biting my cheek was all I could do to keep from snickering at the old bird.
Madame Roux's preposterous moral attitude was not the only surprise awaiting my return to DuPuis Manor.
Pregnancy proved a never ending Ferris wheel of discovery. As my belly increased, so did my physical discomfort. My once slender ankles resembled locust tree trunks. New food cravings cropped up, many of them impossible to quench being as there were no convenience stores selling cherry cola Icee's, banana flips or Andy Capp's fire crisps in our Provence.
Whenever I bemoaned the absence of these delicacies, Erik offered to have Marie buy out the epicures until she found suitable facsimiles for my cravings. Bless his heart; he could not comprehend why peppercorn foie gras was not the same as fire crisps.
He spent alone time engaging his huge brain in inventive pursuits. The selection of Erik-devised gadgets was dizzying.
After lolling around in bed for a three hour nap on the afternoon of our return, Erik insisted we bathe.
"I did wash up earlier, but I could use a proper soak in a real tub. Will you join me, Erik? My back requires your attention."
Erik made me close my eyes when he led me into a room that I'd not remembered being the location of any bathroom in the manor. A misty cloud of jasmine and sea salt met my olfactory senses upon entering.
"Undress," Erik ordered.
"With my eyes closed? My balance isn't what it used to be, I'll fall on my arse."
"I'll assist, darling."
Erik relieved me of my clothes. There I stood, blind, naked and at the mercy of his whims.
"Can I open them now?"
"Be my guest."
I lifted my hands from my eyes. What I saw stole away my breath.
Before me lay a new master bathroom, a spa really. An enormous Italian marble Turkish bath replaced the claw foot tub. Corinthian columns and gorgeous swan statuettes adorned the multi level bathing area. An overabundance of early spring flowers—jonquils, hyacinths and roses sprang from overfilled crystal vases. Erik had installed a separate heater for water and had also run a network of hoses beneath the structure that circulated water into the bath from a series of small holes in the marble, making a jacuzzi effect via the pressure principle.
"You did this?"
"Naturally," he said matter of factly, surveying his surroundings.
"Oh, Erik, it's stunning, a fantasy land. Wow."
"The water is warm and ready for your use, my sweet."
My heart fell. "It isn't good for a pregnant woman to be in super heated water."
"I wondered about temperature, so I chose not to raise the heat beyond that of a typical bath. Do test it, Gabrielle." Erik encouraged me by taking my hand and leading me to the edge of the first tier and bid me to immerse my hand.
The water was tepid. I looked over my shoulder at and smiled. "It's perfect. Care to join me?"
I didn't have to ask twice. Erik undressed and climbed in beside me. We washed each other, played and relaxed in the enormous bath until our finger and toes resembled little sausages.
The ambitious gadgetry didn't end there. My creative genius had arranged for electricity to run into part of the house, an exorbitantly expensive endeavor. He'd even fashioned several efficient batteries capable of temporarily firing up my trans-century electronics. Erik had also concocted a selection of herbs and tonics found on the ingredient labels of my modern cosmetic tubes and jars. Erik's sincere hope was to please me with nineteenth century adaptations of my favorite modern luxuries. His thoughtful and brilliant work moved me to tears. Never before had anyone done so much to make me happy—ever.
But Erik's most impressive undertaking was the special room he'd designed for our child. With apprehension, he opened the door to the room which, much to Madame Roux's chagrin, was situated directly across from our bedroom and not next to me in our respective rooms.
In one corner of the room, a hand carved and highly polished rocking horse, complete with a real horse hair mane and tail and his own leather saddle, winked at me. Next to an ornate crib sat a gorgeous rocking chair to match. A bureau and changing table with compartments for towels, diapers and other necessities including a wash basin with actual running water filled one entire wall. The room faced the muted light of the morning sun. Clouds seemed to drift over head. Across one entire wall, unicorns and other mythical woodland creatures peeped out from an enchanted forest mural where brave knights and pretty maidens frolicked.
There was no question that my child's talented father had created every bit of this fairy tale. I tiptoed over to the mural for a closer look and brushed my fingers over the arc of a painted rainbow. "You did this, all of this, didn't you?"
"When evening comes, the sun sets and the moon and stars appear," Erik said. Walking to the window, he drew the heavy lapis velvet drapes. The big and little dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion and his dog--all of the sky's friendliest constellations twinkled around a full harvest moon."
Pride marked his features. For once Erik was allowed to create works of beauty not significant to the fickle wealthy but for those whose opinions truly mattered. For his family.
Numb with awe, I looked to Erik. "How did you manage this? If this were 2006, I could figure it out. Special glow-in-the-dark paint, plaster, and if you had the money, Industrial Lights and Magic, but this--it's amazing."
"Then it meet all of your needs?" he asked.
I began to cry.
"Is something amiss, darling?"
"No," I whispered. "Everything is perfect, as perfect as it gets, anyway." I approached the chair and took my place in it, running my hand over the detailed scroll work on the arms rests. I saw myself in that exquisite rocker nursing and singing to our baby for hours.
Rocking back and forth slowly, I smiled over at Erik. "My genius husband had been busy."
"Channeling my energy into constructive endeavors was all that kept me sane until I found you safe and sound. These are the fruits of my frustration and of hopeful expectation," he said, retaining his nonchalant air.
"From angst comes absolution," I reflected thoughtfully.
Since leaving England, Doctor Elizabeth Garrettcame to visit me twice. According to her calculations, I was around thirty-two weeks along and increasing right on schedule. Erik's excitement over this baby business fueled his obsession for knowledge. Taking full advantage of Elizabeth's time at the manor, he ran her ragged with endless questions and me with constant "delivery drills.
How little I knew that the fun had just begun.
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Please review for me. Our baby is on the way ; )
-Leesa