Chapter 8:
Phoebus had to get out of the rain. He was at least satisfied by knowing that Esmeralda, his lovely new friend, was safe from Frollo, at least for the forty days until her Sanctuary ran out.
Before he could leave the square and find his town house, or at least the nearest inn in sight, one of the soldiers approached him.
"Sir!" the fellow said. "A message has arrived for you from the Goldelaurier family! They request your presence immediately, and I am to show you to their home in case you've forgotten where it is."
Phoebus stared grimly down at the man, wondering when his weary bones would ever catch a break. It had been non-stop action the whole day, and in spite of his armor, his haunches still ached from when that goat had attacked him.
Still, he was a gentleman, and did not wish for anyone to think otherwise. Besides, there was bound to be a roaring fire at the Gondelaurier place, and they'd serve him food free of charge. Thus in spite of the fact that he knew he would be in for an ordeal, he followed the soldier to the grand town home.
He could already see the firelight within, and as he was eager to be inside, he bid his guide step inside with him and warm himself before leaving.
"I wouldn't dream of it, sir," the fellow said, "I know the lady of the house would disapprove." With that, he departed just as the door was opened by a serving man.
"Do come in, Captain Phoebus. I will see your horse to the stable."
Once inside, Phoebus eagerly removed his gloves, and saw that the lady of the house was approaching. This was the same Aunt Aloise he remembered from the times she'd visited the de Chateaupers household when he was a child. She even wore the same clothes, and Phoebus was somewhat assured that fashion trends had changed since his childhood… but what did he know?
"Ah, my dear boy!" the woman exclaimed with arms outstretched. "I heard what happened at the Festival, today! I'm so glad to see you unscathed!"
Phoebus accepted and reciprocated the kisses to both of his cheeks, and when the greeting was finished, he noticed his betrothed cousin, Fleur de Lys, approaching.
"Bon Nuit, Phoebus," she said in a soft and airy voice. She looked very much like his sister Selene in that moment, and he wasn't sure if he was comforted by the similarities she bore to his dear twin, or unnerved for by the same cause. Either way, he bowed to her, and kissed her hand when she offered it to him.
"I hope you fair ladies were spared the excitement today," he said in his most genial tone.
"Oh, yes!" Fleur pressed a hand over her heart. "I heard all about it, though. I heard that the monster of Notre Dame came down from the tower and while he was being punished, a witch set him free! Amelotte de Montmichel thinks they're in the same coven!"
Phoebus was so taken aback, he was sure he looked like an imbecile.
"You've only just arrived in Paris today, and now you've had to see such terrible things all at once!" Madame Aloise crossed herself and guided Phoebus to a chair.
"Honestly, I saw much worse at war…" he said quietly, before deciding that perhaps that was not something he ought to say in front of ladies.
"And you can tell us all about it in time, poor man! Please relax and we shall lift your spirits!"
At the word 'spirits,' Phoebus's ears pricked. "Can I have some wine?" he asked in what he hoped was still a gracious tone.
"Oh, la!" Madame Aloise clapped her hands, and called for wine as Phoebus began to remove his armor.
By the time a servant had appeared with wine, Phoebus was rolling his shoulder in relief at no longer bearing the weight of his pauldrons.
"Ah, yes!" he grinned when he saw the label. "I do love a good Burgundy!"
"Only the best," Madame Aloise fawned over him.
Phoebus made an effort to be polite, so he drank slowly. Still, he relished the warmth that spread through him as he drank down the wine, and leaned back to enjoy it. He was distracted from the quick onset of his descent into slumber by a voice altogether too close to his shoulder.
"When are we to be married, Phoebus?" asked the lilting voice of Fleur.
He blinked at her pretty little face and asked what he thought must be one of the most foolish questions available to his lethargic mind: "Is that up to me?"
The pause which followed seemed to imply that it was, but Madame Aloise quickly swept those assumptions aside. "I have been in correspondence with your parents, my son, and they plan to come down to the city to see that you are settled sometime during the fortnight, depending on when your sister recovers from her illness."
Phoebus nearly catapulted out of his chair and Fleur had to save him from spilling his wine. "Is something the matter with Selene?" he asked breathlessly.
Madame Aloise gave him a gently indulgent smile. "Oh, they do not think it is a true illness, merely God's sign that she is flowering into motherhood… had you not heard of that?"
"I…" Phoebus blushed as both women awaited his response.
Why had he been unaware that his sister was pregnant, but their cousins had heard? How much had happened that he hadn't heard of?
"Uh…" he coughed, finding himself rather pathetic since he was unable to answer the simplest of questions. "I suppose they were unable to get the message to me before I left camp…" as unlikely as that seemed to him, neither of the ladies appeared to be disappointed with his reply.
His mother and Selene had both been in constant contact with him… it must have been a mistake… or they did not want him to know. Were they worried that if somehow there were a miscarriage or his niece or nephew was born and then died, he would be too tormented on the battlefield to fight? Well… he'd tell himself that for the time being, at least until he could get back into contact with his family.
"No matter! Do not worry about it, dear boy! Be glad that the first of your nieces or nephews is on the way!"
Phoebus smiled at last, imagining how excited Selene must be. He wished he were at the chateau to watch her bouncing around with glee as she rambled about all the wonderful things she would do with her little child the moment she could. She'd arrange a ball if she could find enough guests, whether it was a son or a daughter, she'd festoon the child's wardrobe with silk and lace… God's hands why wasn't he there with Selene?
"I can see we've upset you," Fleur said, "did my silly mother upset you? She's always so silly and doesn't always know what she's saying, poor old bat."
Phoebus glanced from Fleur to Madame Aloise, embarrassed on behalf of his betrothed. "No, it's just… I ought to go find my town home… it's somewhere outside the Isle de Cite, I have…" he fumbled around in his clothing for the pouch where he'd kept the little vellum notice. He held it up in the light, and read off the address.
"I can have one of my men take you there, straightaway," said Madame Aloise. "If my daughter does not think that offer is too backward and foolish."
Fleur blushed, and Phoebus was glad she had some shame until he spoke up and said, "Why must you send him away, Mother? I haven't seen my betrothed in years!"
"In fairness, as much as I'm glad to have your company, I believe it is late enough that I ought to get some sleep." He got to his feet and began to load all his armor back onto his body. It was really the only way he could carry it, but still the weight going back onto his aching muscles made him sigh lightly at the burden.
"Why must you go?" Fleur stood at his side again, and beseeched him with her wide blue eyes. "We've got a guest room, you could sleep here!"
Phoebus looked down into those eyes, and saw coldness there, behind her begging for him to stay. He recalled the way she'd spoken of the bell ringer, calling him a monster, and condemning Esmeralda without ever having seen her…
Esmeralda… the thought of her brought up images of how she'd stood up to the overwhelming power of Frollo, even in the face of arrest and torture. She'd risked her very life in the defense of an undeniably hideous person and there had been no inherent benefit for her.
This girl would do no such thing, and Phoebus realized what a terrible fit she would be in his family. Even though they had selected her, he didn't think they truly knew her. Perhaps it didn't matter, but he'd always been raised with an emphasis on charity and mercy. Where had that been in Fleur's upbringing? Where was her civility? She certainly was not acting like a lady.
Which was not to say Esmeralda would be a particularly well-suited replacement… even if she weren't a peasant, or a street dancer, she was still not French. What a scandal it would be if he brought an Egyptian home!
But why was he even thinking of that option? He shook himself internally, and returned his attention to the woman at his elbow.
"I must go," he told Fleur quietly, and he hoped that it sounded as if he were actually compelled, and not as if he were being cold towards her. "I must, for instance, find my home and get myself situated."
Before he could leave, he heard someone at the door. Fleur stood in his path so that he could not get to the door without pushing her out of the way in a rather ungentlemanly manner, and Madame Aloise went to the door, instead.
There stood a soldier, with a missive. "Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers, you are hereby summoned by Master Frollo. Follow me, please."
That wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping to hear, as the option to be with Frollo or Fleur offered little in the way of relief, but at least he was out of this particular awkward situation.
"He was just about to leave," Madame Aloise wrapped her arm around Fleur's, and smiled ingratiatingly.
"Duty calls," Phoebus said with a bow, "I hope you ladies enjoy the rest of your evening." With that, he left, taking the burden of imagining his life married to Fleur de Lys weighing on his heart, just as heavily as his apprehension as to what Frollo may want him to do.