Hey everyone! I actually got this chapter done in less than a week! Hurray!
A big thanks to my new beta, Juliana, for once again going above and beyond the call of duty!
Oh and wish me luck everyone! I have another Org. Chemistry exam tomorrow! ARGG! But anyway I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.
Chapter 19: An Unexpected Visitor
Erik had not believed his eyes when Brielle had brought out the cake. His name was on it. The woman had put his name on it. He had never once received a "Happy Birthday," let alone an actual cake. He could not even remember when exactly his birthday was. And yet, because of a passing comment upon that fact, Brielle had taken it upon herself to rectify the situation. Because of her he was celebrating his first birthday.
Erik was not a man of soft sentimentality, but something about Brielle's actions had overwhelmed him. The gesture was so sweet, so unassuming it had made his heart constrict painfully within him. Tears had blurred his vision before she had even finished with her prolonged explanation. It was all he could do to utter those few words of assurance to her without completely losing control over himself.
As he had sat stunned, trying to gather what remained of his composure, the damned woman had floored him again with her bizarre gift. A Saint Jude medal - he would have laughed at the absurdity of it if not for the sincerity in her eyes, if not for the gentle warmth of her hand over his. Erik understood the humor in the situation, but more importantly he saw the deeper connotations behind the gift. Brielle honestly believed that by giving him the image of the saint she was somehow protecting him. Her faith was surprising given her love for science, yet she did believe.
She believed in the higher power he had long ago given up hope on. After all, what gentle and loving god would have knowingly cursed a man with his face, with his life? The only feasible explanation was that there simply was no higher power, no Father in Heaven. Mankind was alone as he had always been alone.
And now, as he ran the chain through his fingers, he knew that he would always treasure the medallion. Not because it would give him luck, but because Brielle had given it to him. She could have given him an old rag and he would feel the same way about it. This realization was petrifying. He was starting to feel himself slip back into the shadowy realm where affection and adoration reigned. The signs were all there - the anticipation to see her every morning, the need to simply be in the same room with her, to speak with her about anything and everything.
Erik recognized the signs because he had been through this before with Christine. Though he had to admit that what he felt for Brielle was vastly different from what he had felt for the young singer. In some part of his mind, prompted by his loneliness, he had always put Christine on a pedestal, thinking of her not as a woman but as something more abstract - first his inspiration, then his savior. He now knew that he had never really even known Christine; they had never laughed over breakfast or shared an evening reading aloud in front of the fireplace. Brielle was the only woman he had done these things with; she was the only woman he could honestly say that he knew. Oh and how he hated and loved that familiarity. Loved the companionship, the excitement of having another mind and will strong enough to match his own, but every moment he hated how their friendship made him feel. He was coming to rely upon her. Worst of all, he didn't know how to stop himself from feeling these things.
And it was getting worse with each passing day. He no longer could stand the emptiness of spending a day on his own. The solitude he used to love so much was now repugnant when compared to the comforting interactions of everyday life in the Donovan household. Leaving was the only remedy Erik could think of, but every fiber of his being rebelled against this idea.
Erik sighed as he slowly curled his fist about the medallion; the metal in his palm still glowed with the warmth of her skin. And as he thought about how the silver had so recently lain against the pearl white of her throat, a slow burning sparked to life in his belly. His fist hardened about the necklace as he fought against the unexpected wave of lust. This was happening more often now, the craving for what he could never have. It was degrading for him, a man who prided himself on his self control, to be overtaken by these longings like a fledgling schoolboy.
And it always happened in the oddest of moments, like that afternoon in the kitchen when she had been remembering the day Aria was born. The appearance of bittersweet joy upon her face had paralyzed him barely two feet away from her. God, she had smelled good. Clean, like a field after a spring shower. It was all he could do to keep himself from touching her.
It was degrading, these cravings, but more importantly it was shaming. He should not feel these things about Brielle, not when she had been so kind to him. She didn't need a monster like him lurking about, thinking the things he often thought. She didn't deserve such things and he didn't deserve her. That was the ultimate difference between then and now. He no longer had any illusions, he no longer dreamed of the impossible. His disillusionment protected him now; it stopped him from stepping over the line between affection and crazed obsession, between friendship and love.
Aria's hand upon his knee brought him to the present. He glanced down at the child, only to notice how raggedly she had begun to breathe. The sound of each rush of air whistled between her tense lips. Her hand upon his pant leg was vise-like as it bunched the cotton material into a ball. For the briefest of moments he feared something about his expression had frightened her, except her eyes weren't on him, but on the doorway to the hall. The sound of Brielle opening the front door drifted in then, making Aria start.
"What are you afraid of? It is only Conner; perhaps he brought you a present." When the little girl remained still, her gaze fixed upon the doorway, Erik gently laid his hand atop her raven head. Only then did she look up at him.
"It isn't Uncle Conner," she said clearly, the pupils of her eyes fully dilated, the black blocking out the gray. "Don't let h-h-him in. It i-is the m-m-m-mon…" Monster…
Erik smoothed his hand down the side of her head to come to rest on her shoulder. Her stuttering had suddenly deteriorated to the level it had been at before their lessons began. What in the world has gotten into her? The only person she has ever called monster is…
At that moment Brielle's voice drifted in from the hall. "Hello, Andrew."
All the blood suddenly drained from his face. There was a stranger in the house.
Brielle stood paralyzed in the doorway, her hand gripping the jamb with too much force. She was suddenly extremely aware of how unkempt she must look, her hair falling from its pins, the top two buttons of her dress undone. Funny, she hadn't even thought of her appearance before.
The man who smiled at her from outside was of average height, but the pride in his bearing had him towering over Brielle. His well kept black hair was swept back from an aristocratically handsome face. The fine tailored suit fit his body perfectly, displaying both his wealth and the lean muscle he was so proud of.
"Andrew what are you doing here?"
"Is that any way to greet your loving brother-in-law?" he asked smoothly, the humorless smile on his face unable to penetrate the depths of his black eyes. Andrew leaned forward ever so slightly then as if to kiss her cheek, but before he came near enough Brielle hastily retreated backward, feeling crowded. Her reaction was rude, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.
She had known the man standing before her even before she had met her late husband. In fact, now that she thought about it, she supposed that Andrew had been courting her for a time in that roundabout, proper way of his. But she had just never taken to his serious, almost fatherly nature. Somehow she had always felt off balance around Andrew. He had a way of making people become aware of their faults - of speaking down to a person rather than to them.
"I am sorry. It is just that I wasn't expecting you to visit," she said, hurriedly tucking several strands of hair behind her ear.
"Now how could I miss my niece's fourth birthday?"
"You are so busy I just never thought…"
"I am never too busy to come and visit you Brielle," he said quietly, those midnight black eyes throwing her own reflection back at her. Her name was nearly a sigh as it passed through his lips. "May I at least come in?"
She blinked and stepped back. "Of course, sorry. We already cut the cake."
"You and Aria?" he inquired as he stepped over the threshold, removing his hat.
"Yes and Eri…" she trailed off, suddenly a hand rising to cover her mouth. Lord, she had nearly forgotten about Erik. Whirling, Brielle spread her arms out blocking Andrew's path into the house.
"Brielle, whatever has gotten into you?"
"Nothing. I am fine. I just remembered that I haven't told you the news."
His dark brows drew together as he stared at her. "Brielle, what are you talking about? What news?"
"Do you remember how you have always wanted Aria to go to a special school to learn how to speak properly?" she asked with a smile, suddenly uncertain of herself.
"Of course. If you are reconsidering my suggestion, I know of several excellent boarding schools in England which would…"
Bolstered by the rare genuine smile lightening his stern features, Brielle interrupted him. "Thank you, but no I still don't think a school is the best solution. Instead I hired her a tutor!"
Andrew stilled at her words, the smile leaving his face. The somber line flashed to life once more between his brows. "A tutor?"
"Yes, and he is wonderful. Already they have made so much progress," she continued brightly, though she was becoming dismayed by the disapproving glint in his eyes.
"He?" he inquired through tightened lips.
She cleared her throat, hating the clawing tightness climbing up her throat. Normally only large crowds could draw this paralyzing shyness from her but one reproachful glance from him and she was a stuttering moron. "Yes, he is a he. His name is Erik and he is a marvelous teacher. Just today she spoke to me without even one stutter! Isn't that marvelous?" When Andrew remained quiet Brielle frowned, her temper stirring, her hands itching to fist upon her hips. "Isn't it?"
The slight edge which had infused her voice brought the black eyed man from his silence. The sternness faded, only to be replaced with sincere worry. "Of course it is wonderful Brielle. I have always hated how much her handicap has troubled you. It is a relief that she is learning to do better. I know how hard it has been on you, raising her on your own. I was merely concerned by the fact that you are alone in this house with a strange man. And that you saw fit not to tell me of this new development. I only worry for your welfare; you need not keep secrets from me. You can trust me - you know that, don't you?"
Suddenly she felt horrible for having thought such mean things about him. Yes, he was serious and disapproving at times, but under all that breeding he was only looking out for them. And he had been doing so ever since the day John died. "Yes, I know that. And I know how I make you worry."
"Why won't you come back to England? Mother misses Arianna terribly."
"I am sure she does. But you know full well I cannot bear to return to England just yet. There are too many bad memories." Turning her face from him, Brielle wrapped her arms protectively about her waist, her corset all of a sudden feeling like a cage.
Carefully, Andrew brought a gloved hand up to cup the side of her face. "And I have offered many times to replace those memories with happy ones. You only have to say yes."
Feeling chilled, Brielle stepped away from his touch. When his fingers brushed her face, she felt nothing but the coolness of his skin against hers. How odd. Had she been expecting the same jolting spark that Erik's touch always ignited?
"Can we please not talk about this now?"
Andrew went rigid at the shortness of her words. A vein just below his temple began to throb in time with his heart. "As you wish - you know I can be a patient man. In the end I know you will see the wisdom of my offer." Straightening his shoulders, he took a step away from her. "I believe I am holding up a birthday party. Shall we go? I have a gift for Arianna which I think she will enjoy." He tapped the small box he had just pulled from his pocket.
She merely nodded her head, glad to have put off the never ending argument about marriage. Brielle had often told Andrew she never planned to love another man, but for some reason the news never put him off. He was so confident in himself, Brielle was sure, that he believed she would eventually come around. But she was certain she could never come to love him. Every time she looked at him, she only saw John in his likeness.
With these worries upon her mind, Brielle walked down the hallway without remembering to mention several important facts to Andrew. Firstly, that 'the tutor' was in the house and secondly, that he was living there. She remembered these two things just a little too late.
Rounding the corner ahead of her, Andrew walked through the dining room door a moment before she did. When he came to a sudden stop in the doorway, Brielle ran into his back. Startled, she peeked around him and then remembered with a sinking feeling the details she had forgotten to relate.
"Brielle," Andrew began, his voice lowered, "I don't believe you mentioned having another guest." His dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly across the room, where Erik sat with his hand resting on Aria's shoulder.
"Of course I did Andrew," she said, trying to trivialize her mistake with a light attitude. "This is Erik." Stepping around the finely dressed man, Brielle walked into the room. Moving to the table she began to tidy up the dirty plates, the worry lines beginning to show between her eyebrows.
Erik stood then, looking terribly uncomfortable. Brielle knew how sensitive he was to meeting strangers and it pained her to know that this encounter was sure to go badly. Andrew was…abrasive in his best moments. When Erik's gaze flickered to her, she mouthed a silent apology.
"How thoughtful of you Brielle, to have invited the help over for a little cake," Andrew began, his nose turning up ever so slightly as he sized Erik up. "You always were a bit too familiar with the staff."
Grimacing, Brielle set the plates aside with clatter; she could all but feel Erik's temper begin to boil. "Andrew, what a horrid thing to say. You haven't the right to come in here and insult my guest. Erik happens to be a friend."
With a snort Andrew crossed his arms, one finger tapping against the top of the present he held in his hand. He finally finished his silent assessment of the other man and turned his attention to Brielle, dismissing Erik. "Forgive me, Brielle. I had simply been looking forward to spending some time with family." There was a pause as a smirk curled the corners of his mouth. "Though I suppose there will be other occasions for that."
Uncrossing his arms, Andrew finally turned his dark eyes back to Erik. Holding out one hand, he walked across the room. "A pleasure, sir. I am Baron Andrew Leopold Lancaster Donovan. And you I understand are…Erik? Do you have a last name or is it merely Erik?"
"That is none of your business you foppish bast…" Erik's response only served to widen the smirk on Andrew's face. Both men opened their mouths to continue the verbal battle, but Brielle quickly interrupted them.
"Andrew, didn't you say you had a gift for Aria? Perhaps you should give it to her now. It will be her bedtime soon."
Lowering his hand, Andrew turned to look over his shoulder at her. "You are right of course." Plastering a smile upon his face he looked down at Aria, who was still clutching Erik's left pant leg. "I saw this in a shop all the way back in London," he began, holding the small velvet box out to the child. When she didn't take it from him, the smile dimmed ever so slightly. With a sigh he opened the lid for her and plucked out a pair of mother of pearl hair combs in the shape of butterflies. "Your mother has often told me how you like butterflies Arianna. Now you won't have to wait 'til summer to see them."
"What a thoughtful gift Andrew," Brielle said with a smile, glad that the men in the household had momentarily been distracted from barbing each other. "Aria, what do you say to your Uncle?"
When Aria stuck out her bottom lip and scuffed the toe of her shoe against the carpet, Brielle sighed. Aria had never taken to Andrew either. Her shyness now wasn't a surprise. "Aria, say thank you at least."
"T-Thank y-y-you," the child stuttered quietly before stuffing a thumb into her mouth. Frustrated tears gathered in her large gray eyes.
Dismayed by the relapse in her daughter's speech, Brielle stepped forward and gently pried the child from Erik's leg, swinging her up to perch upon her hip. "Well I think that has been enough excitement for today. It is time for Aria to go to bed."
Returning the hair combs to the box untouched, Andrew glanced in Erik's direction. "Shouldn't you be on your way, Erik?"
Now it was Erik's turn to smirk. "Actually, seeing as I have been living here I don't have far to go."
Stunned, Andrew blinked at the masked man in silence before abruptly turning to Brielle. The vein in his temple pulsed out his anger as his face drained of all its color. "Brielle, I need to have a word with you…now." And with that he turned upon his heel and marched out of the room.
A wave of dread washed over her as she patted Aria's back comfortingly. She knew a fight was surely looming on the immediate horizon. Fighting with Andrew was like arguing with a brick wall. "Aria, be a good girl and go to your room. Momma will be right there." Bending over, Brielle set the girl on the floor. Aria immediately ran off after grabbing her new china doll.
Erik stood on the other side of the table glowering at her. "I had no idea he was coming over Erik. I apologize for his behavior it is just…"
"Don't make excuses for him Brielle. There is no excuse for that kind of man," he snapped. "Who does he think he is anyway? Probably never did a day of work in his life. Brazen…ignorant…" He rounded the table and advanced upon her, his anger lowering his voice to a growl.
"Erik, please…he has been very kind to this family since John died. I am sorry for the things he said but I just don't have the strength to fight with you about it right now."
"Kind, hmm? And does that kindness include terrorizing your daughter and insulting your friends?"
Despite the furious tone of his voice, Brielle couldn't help but smile at him. "So you finally consider yourself my friend?"
Her question caught him off guard, the anger momentarily fading from his expression. "What? Don't change the subject."
"Erik, will you be a dear and make sure Aria is getting ready for bed rather than setting something on fire in the kitchen?"
"Brielle?"
"Honestly Erik! I can only concentrate on fighting with one man at a time. If you wish to be able to stay here I will have to come up with a damned good reason to give to Andrew."
"Ha! What say does he have in any of this?"
"This is his house, his property. He has a great deal to say about who stays on it." Stepping forward she grabbed hold of Erik's arm, ushering him out of the room. "Now get out of here!" With that she gave him a push out of the dinning room door. He stumbled slightly before stalking off towards the back of the house.
Taking a deep breath, Brielle smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, trying all the while to come up with an excuse for Erik's presence in the house. Reluctantly, she moved out into the hall where Andrew stood with his hands clenched behind his back. Having heard her approach, the black haired man turned and fixed her with his piercing gaze.
"I want him out of the house Brielle. By week's end he is to be gone."
She gritted her teeth against the infuriating command of his words. "Andrew, there is nothing improper about his staying here. I know of plenty of wealthy families who hire live-in teachers."
"That may be so but those families do not include beautiful young widows! What do you really know about this man anyway? Where are his recommendations? And why the hell does he wear that blasted mask? What honest man would wear a mask!"
"You know perfectly well why an honest man would be forced to hide his face Andrew!" she exclaimed, fed up with his dictations. "How can you judge him because he was born with some sort of disfigurement?"
"Don't change the subject. What do you know about him? Where is he from? What is his last name for goodness sake?"
"For your information I have known him for little over two months now and he has yet to rob us or murder us in our sleep. He was a consultant at the Opera before he came here. I would think that should come with extremely high recommendations."
"Brielle, you know I love your spirit and your spontaneity but really this time you have just gone too far."
"I will not ask him to leave."
"Brielle."
"I…will…not…ask…him…to…leave."
A flicker of stark maliciousness drifted behind his eyes, like clouds before a full moon. In one step Andrew had latched onto her wrist in a vise-like grip. "Why do you constantly push me away Brielle, when all I have ever done is protect you?"
His fingers slowly increased their pressure and Brielle gasped aloud at the bolts of pain shooting up her arm. "Andrew, let go. You are hurting me."
The strange mood cleared from his eyes at her words, his hand immediately releasing her. She stumbled back a step, rubbing at where he had been gripping her. A large red hand print now marred the skin just above her right wrist. "What is the matter with you!"
He ignored her question, looking terribly contrite for having acted so boorishly. "I am sorry Brielle. I didn't mean to harm you. Perhaps we should continue this conversation at a later time. I have business to take care of in Paris. For convenience's sake I will be staying at the main house over the next few months. There will be plenty of time to work this situation out. Forgive my insensitivity. My only excuse is my surprise at the whole situation."
Still cradling her throbbing wrist, Brielle could only stare at him. Her first reaction was to be furious at him for laying a hand on her, but somehow the sheepishness of his stance dissolved her anger. "Yes perhaps that would be best."
"Goodnight then Brielle. I will call again sometime in the next few days," he stated without bothering to ask her permission first.
"Goodnight Andrew," she said, following him to the front door. Brielle stood and watched him easily mount his waiting horse and gallop off down the lane. When the man had disappeared around the first bend in the road, Brielle quietly laid a hand upon the door.
With a heave she slammed the door shut, rattling the mirror hanging in the hallway.