My apologies for taking so long with this update. Thank all of you for your patience and your dedication. To the person who flamed me, congratulations, you are my first, while I appreciate constructive criticism, dissing an author based on how you think the story should go is unproductive. Erik and Gabrielle just had a child, they deserve a bit of happiness and as far as Gab's pontifications go, hasn't she always been opinionated and idealistic? Normally I would not bother to recognize a negative review, but this one was submitted unsigned. Okay, I'm done.

-Leesainthesky

Ch 97 Little Things

"People like you make my job appear easy. I am not certain I like that, Monsieur," said Elizabeth Barrett, my doctor friend. We gathered in the garden and waited for Mademoiselle Caruso to serve brunch. Elizabeth was giving Erik a good natured chiding for his latest occupation as an obstetrician.

A puzzled frown pulled at his features. "I beg you pardon, Madame? My child was not waiting for your arrival to be born." He looked to me and made a face as if to say, 'is she daft?'

I sidled up to him and took his hand. "She's joshing you, dear," I whispered, smiling faintly at Elizabeth.

"Is she?" Poker face. "Oh, very well, then."Elizabeth's laughter tinkled like a minute wind chime. "Forgive me, Monsieur DuPuis, It is not my intention to make light of your situation. I am pleased for your success in delivering a robust young lad and in keeping your wife healthy. I should wish for more like you on my staff in London."

"Such flattering accolades, Madame." Erik bowed to the woman who, after weeks of working closely with my husband on the fine points of birthing babies, had become a friend of sorts.

Madame Roux appeared through the open doors of the veranda with young Erik in tow. Outfitted in a long dressing gown of lightweight white cotton edged with soft lace, he looked like a little prince, which is what I had taken to calling him.

"Mother, your son is fresh and clean. Mademoiselle Caruso has given him his morning bath, he is changed and powdered to perfection," she said, handing him to me. His head bobbled and he tried to focus his eyes on the movement of the bright flowers behind me.

"Seeing your infant son makes me long for another baby . . . almost," said Mary Ann. "The pain isn't pretty. I laugh whenever I think of how many, mostly men, lawmakers and the church, want to ban any medicine or method for dulling the pain of labor. . .'woman's pain is just, repayment for original sin,' they cry. Were the tables turned, I'll bet research and development money would fly from policy maker's checkbooks to every doctor and scientist on the globe." We all had a good laugh reflecting on the possibility of men enduring the rigors of childbirth.

"Your insightful wit is sorely missed at the paper, Gabrielle. Do tell me you'll not abandon your writing now that a happy marriage and motherhood have claimed you?" asked Mary Ann.

"Oh no, I plan to resume my 'career path' in a few months. A domestic goddess I am not. I'd die if I could not write for the cause of women's rights. I count myself fortunate that Erik understands this about me," I replied.

"Then he has no qualms about your working. Many husbands forbid it, you know," added Elizabeth, taking the baby from me for a cuddle.

"Erik? He's already purchased a typewriter for me. He figures if I keep busy with enough useful pursuits, I won't be so inclined to run off to the city dressed in drag again." Both Mary Ann and Elizabeth chuckled at the memory of my escapade with Marie's daughter, Caron. Marie, who'd entered the terrace with a tray of almond shortbreads, cast me a reproachful look and I nearly bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

Confident that all was well with baby and mother, my two professional friends wrapped up their two day visit and returned to London, leaving me to the wedding guest lists and the care of my two Eriks.

OOOOooooOOOO

July twenty-ninth, 1878 floated along the lazy river of summertime in the same fashion as all the others days of the month had, slightly humid and clear, save for some stray wispy clouds, and a hallelujah chorus of katydids singing from the trees.

Nothing terribly extraordinary about it, except that July 29th was my wedding day. The civil ceremony in Le Havre had made the nuptials legal, but today's gathering of friends was an act of proclamation. Erik and I wished to celebrate our journey from the dark cellars of despair into the healing light of hope.

And, I wanted to wear my wedding gown. Beneath the self-reliant, Renaissance woman façade, I was a princess wannabe.

Through the miracle of a crackerjack seamstress, my gown now fit me. The "Gabrielle" roses from our garden would provide my bouquet. And the opulence of our garden, fashioned after one of the Ming Dynasty's palace gardens, would provide the wedding's backdrop.

Champagne and wine would flow, accompanied by a sumptuous feast of caviar, steak tartar, chilled shrimp, leg of lamb, and a medley of fine cheeses, breads, brioche and fresh summer vegetables. The pièce de réistance was the wedding cake, designed by one of the finest pastry chefs in Paris. My one regret was that the Twinkie had yet to be invented, as I thought it would make a swell groom's cake.

Too bad I had none on me when I made the time jump, those little cakes could have the longevity of cockroaches.

Plans for our small soirée unfolded with perfection, and that worried me.

Guests arriving from England, such as Caron, her husband and infant; my friends; and Erik's partner and his wife, were to stay at DuPuis Manor. The rest, coming from Paris: Madame Giry, her daughter Meg, and her new husband; and Nadir, were set to arrive early in the afternoon. Erik had never, ever, entertained so many people in his home and it unnerved him greatly. Throngs of people, even small ones, made him nervous, but it was his idea to host today's celebration.

This morning as we dressed, I gave him one last chance to opt out. "Darling," I said, "it's sweet that you want to please me with a special event to mark our union. I know how uncomfortable these sorts of events make you. Why else would you have holed up in the music room moments after supper last night?"

"I have an opera to finish," he replied.

I came to stand before him and tugged on the ends of his untied cravat. "Erik, you don't have to endure this pomp today if you don't wish to."

Erik scowled. "There is no need to treat me like a child, Gabrielle. I have endured much more than a handful of acquaintances before."

"I just hate for my pleasure to cause your discomfort," I said, looping one end of the cravat over the other and tucking them into the neckline of his waistcoat. "There, all set except for your mask. I don't expect you'll want to forgo it in front of everyone."

He made a short nod and looked over my head thoughtfully before addressing me. "Gabrielle, the ceremony today t is not chiefly for your benefit, but mine as well. I find it necessary for me to become master of my most potent fears." Erik spoke somberly, seriously. He clasped his hands with mine, rubbing his thumbs over my palms and peered into my eyes. "Now that I have a son, I want him to grow up in the daylight without fear. For this to happen, I must overcome my own fears of recrimination and humiliation. I have long projected the image of being a strong and volatile man; mere words should no longer wield power over me."

"True," I agreed.

"If you can adapt to and thrive in my nineteenth century world, then the least I can do is honor you and our union with today's celebration."

"Thank you, Erik, for everything you do and don't do for us," I replied, pushing up on tiptoe for a kiss.

"Now, I'd better get a move on. Mademoiselle Caruso is watching over young Erik and I doubt she'll be of much use to him when it's time to feed. Marie will have breakfast on the table for us and then I have to check over table settings and flowers and ready myself for the ceremony," I said, ticking off my mental list.

"You'd be ready if you wore sack cloth and ashes."

I smiled. "That would make for an itchy gown." "Is not Madame Roux overseeing today's details?"

"Oh, she is, but I want to put the 'Madame DuPuis Stamp of Approval' on things," I said with a wink.

"As you should," he smiled back.

"Come, let's eat."

"I'm not terribly hungry."

"You will be if you don't have something. I'll not have you passing out at the alter," I warned, breaking free from his hands and walking to the table on his side of the bed to pick up his mask.

"Moi? Good heavens, woman, I've suffered far worse circumstances on an empty stomach."

I brought him his mask. "Humor me and have a cup of coffee then."

He adjusted the bit of white leather over his gnarled features, smoothed his hair into place, and took a quick glance in the mirror. "If you insist, Madame."

"I insist," I said, taking up his arm and urging him to join me downstairs.

OOOOooooOOOO

Weddings always have their share of foibles; mine would not be the rare exception.

First, the cake arrived on time and looking fabulous, however, the writing on the top of the bakery box said "White cake w/vanilla butter cream frosting." I inspected the base of the pastry for signs of chocolate and saw none. The baker forgot to alternate layers of white and chocolate cake. Erik's only request in this entire affair was that our wedding cake be at least partially made of his favorite flavor—chocolate. This was not good.

"Damn it, stupid baker. I wish I'd know this before I paid his delivery man," I cursed from the table where the three tiered cake now sat.

"What vexes you so, darling?" Erik asked with concern as he walked in from the hallway.

Thankful my back was to him, I froze and gathered my wits. "Nothing, really. The cake is only three tiers, not the four that I ordered. Do you think there is enough for everyone to enjoy a piece?" I asked, turning to face him.

Erik considered the cake for a moment. "It is quite large, but if you believe our guests appetite for sweets will be excessive, have Mademoiselle Caruso bake something easy, a pie perhaps," he suggested with a shrug.

"Wonderful idea, dear, I'll get right on it," I replied with a tad too much enthusiasm.

He tilted his head to the side and studied me. "Gabrielle, are you all right? You seem slightly disconcerted."

"Not in the least. I'm fine, wonderful. Do not worry about me one bit," I laughed nervously, moving closer and placing my hand against the lapel of his coat.

"Truthfully?" he said, his eyes slowly scanning my face, giving me that 'don't-lie-to-me' look.

"Absolutely. Now go, wander off and hide somewhere before you are asked to do something by Marie," I warned. He pursed his lips and peered behind him with a wary eye, making sure the officious Madame Roux was no where within earshot.

"If I had known this celebration would create so much strain on you, I would not have agreed to it."

"Erik, I'm not made of spun sugar. I thrive on chaos. Now, go away." I shooed at him with my hands and he threw me an irritated scowl on his way out of the room.

My mind whirled, looking for a solution to the cake problem. I walked into the kitchen where Mademoiselle Caruso was arranging food on large serving plates which would be stored in the cooler until after the ceremony.

"Madame DuPuis," she curtsied. "May I be of service to you?"

"Yes, you can. The baker made an error with the wedding cake and since there is no time to make another one, I need to throw together a chocolate sheet cake, pronto."

She paused in her work and gave me her full attention. "Oui, Madame, a cake can be ready in time for the afternoon's celebration, but we must make haste," she said in her girlish French accent.

"Here's what we'll do. I'll whip up the cake, the one Monsieur DuPuis likes best, and you are to keep a sharp eye on it while it bakes. When it's done, place it on the cooling rack and come find me. I'll be hidden, sitting in the nursery with the baby."

"I can frost the confection for you, Madame," she offered.

"That's okay; I have something special in mind, so I'll do it. You must not tell anyone, especially my husband, what is going on. He is not to be bothered with trivial things like cake today, are we agree?" I asked.

"Agreed, Madame," said the little maid, making a locking motion with her hand.

I threw on an apron and made quick work creating Erik's favorite double chocolate cake, made with the finest French cocoa. The idea was to cut the sheet in the shape of a grand piano, smother the cake in rich vanilla butter cream icing, adorn the edge with tiny blooms and sprinkle the top with finely sifted cocoa. Simple, tasty, and most of all chocolate. I wondered if I were creating the very first 'Groom's cake. 'With the cake safely tucked into the oven under Mademoiselle Caruso's watchful eye, I retreated toward the nursery.

I approached the winding staircase leading to the manor's upper floor, but before my toes hit the first step, Marie Roux was summoning me.

"Gabrielle, I need you! Please, we have a grievous situation which requires your attention." She bustled up to me, out of breath.

"Mon Dieu, Marie, whatever is it?" I feared the worst.

"It is the seating arrangements for dinner," she informed me, wringing her hands.

I stared at her blankly. "Eating arrangements? Everyone here is amiable with one another aren't they, Marie?"

She shook her head. "Gabrielle, you cannot mean to sit the Marquis next to Monsieur Roux. As much respect as I have for my husband, we are of a far lower class; you are certain to offend the Marquis," she said ruefully. Although genders were supposed to be alternated in those days, I preferred spouses sit next to each other as it is what I myself preferred.

I sighed. "Marie, come now, he is married to your niece. Obviously, the man has moved beyond that sort of thing. Where else would you have him sit?" I asked, getting more peeved by the moment.

"Next to the authoress and her husband or the Daroga, perhaps? They are much more worldly and refined.""Egad, Marie, I can't believe you're agonizing about this stuff. At my table, everyone is equal. The Marquis will enjoy Henri's stories."

"But, Gabrielle, it simply—""Marie, stop please," I said, holding out my hand in frustration. Marie stopped short and blinked at me.

"I am not changing anything at this late hour and that is that. Now if you'll excuse me, Erik needs his feeding." Before Marie could rebut, I spun around and headed for the nursery where my son was enjoying a peaceful nap.

Young Erik awoke, hungry, naturally. I cared for his needs, rocked him for a time, and then had a brainstorm. "Hey you, how about an impromptu outing?" I whispered to my sleeping son, placing him in the basket we used when taking him outdoors. It was equipped with a cushy blanket and a piece of netting for keeping the bugs away from his tender skin.

The ceremony was not for another six hours. We had food, cake, flowers, and our finery. What else was needed but for the remaining guests? If they did not make it, I wasn't going to have a cow. This was my wedding day, it would happen and I would enjoy it. I didn't even care if a monsoon erupted from the heavens.

I assumed Erik had holed up in the sanctuary of his music room. I decided to retreat to my own sanctuary, my own 'Private Idaho,' the large oak tree at the edge of the meadow.

On my way out, I stopped by the kitchen to check on Erik's cake, relived to find Mademoiselle Caruso had it on a rack, cooling.

"If anyone should need me, tell them I'm taking a nap and want no interruptions, none. I don't care if the house is on fire, okay?" I wanted to smile, but decided Mademoiselle Caruso may not take me seriously if I did. Who knew what the girl understood.

"Yes, Madame DuPuis do have a pleasant rest," she nodded with a polite smile. This time I smiled back.

I made my way back through the dining room, stopping at the mouth of the main hall to listen. No voices, good I could slip unnoticed out the side door by the carriageway.

Not a soul in sight. I dashed away from the manor, behind the far side of the carriage house, and stepped into the meadow. Behind a grove of bushes and maple trees, stood an enormous oak tree. Any person resting beneath its considerable canopy would not be visible from the house.

I set the basket down gently and spread out the skirts of my cotton dress to sit. Ah, I breathed in the pungent scent of summertime wildflowers, earth and summer wheat. Bees, dragonflies and bits of fluff floated in the air around us and I draped the netting over Erik's basket.

He formed what I liked to call a smile, flailing his little fists and kicking his feet happily, and tried to focus his newborn eyes on my face.

"Hey, little dude, it's just you and me. Kick back and enjoy it because soon you're going to be passed around like you're a human football by strangers who will cootchie-coo you silly.' I spoke to my son, who answered by sticking out his tongue at me.

"I'm just saying, now. . ."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the thick tree trunk. The mildness of the day surprised me and I wondered how long it would last before the typical humidity crept in.

Good thing this wedding takes place just before dusk. I'd long ago run out of my Secret deodorant stick and I didn't think powder could ward off sweat stains from a silk gown. Excessive heat made Erik cranky, too. And when Erik's not happy, ain't nobody happy. I laughed to myself.

I pushed all thoughts of cakes and seating arrangements from my mind, allowing errant thoughts to drift through instead, relaxing my jarred nerves. Before long, I teetered on that delicious, narrow ledge one perches on before falling into sleep.

"So here is where you've run off to, my bride." The depths of Erik's velvet-timbered voice roused me from my daydream.

"Hey there!" I said cheerfully, sitting up right and patting the soft spot of grass next to me.

Erik bent his long frame gracefully to join me beneath our favorite oak tree.

"What, have you also been run off by the wedding Nazi?"

"I assume you refer to Madame Roux. I'd no idea the woman could irritate so," he groused and pursed his lips.

"What if we hid here, beneath this tree all day?" I asked with a giggle.

"What if, indeed Madame," Erik answered. The lush greenery surrounding us enhanced the spark of mischief in his jade eyes.

Young Erik stirred from beneath the netting. I removed him from his basket and kissed his downy head. "What is it, my prince? Hungry again are you?" Much to Erik's delight, I unlaced my bodice, revealing my breasts to the soft summer breeze, and began feeding our son.

"We can bail on our guests, Erik. It'll be fine, I promise." I cast him a reassuring look.

"Gabrielle, I have something I wish to show you. Something I had hoped to save for after the wedding, but well, we've several hours until the celebration begins. Might you be up for a bit of amusement?"

"Will it take my mind off of Marie's incessant mother henning?"

"I should hope so. When our son finishes his supper, I will show you my fantasy."


- () -

Erik's fantasy? Humm, I can hear the wheels turning now. Please review for me. Thanks Barb and Amy for being my faithful beta's

-Leesa