THE SEDUCTION OF GABRIEL STEWART Read online

  Erik broke his silence then. His beautiful, clear tenor shocked the throng into silence, moving some to tears. The hypnotic power of his instrument was palpable as he brought his aria to a close and resumed his silent stance.

  One woman near me remarked, “It’s a bloody shame that he should have such a voice with that poor face of his. He sings like an angel.”

  The silent crowd began to disperse at that point. Francois took another draught from his jug and spat it at Erik’s feet. He gestured to a nearby young woman and walked away with his arm around her shoulders.

  Gilbert and I had moved into the shadows of another tent as the throng left the area and soon we were watching Erik by ourselves. Now that there was no audience, he began to pace the stall like an impatient lion in a zoo.

  Gilbert made his way to the cage.

  “I am returned, monsieur,” he said quietly. “I have brought Madame Claire.”

  “You idiot,” Erik hissed. “How could you endanger her that way? I wanted her merely to know where I was.”

  “He could not have stopped me,” I responded as I stepped out of the shadows.

  I drew Erik’s wedding band from my reticule then. He slipped a trembling left hand through the stall’s bars and I placed it on his finger just as I had done in the chapel on our wedding day.

  “I do not have the key to this lock, monsieur, but if Madame Claire will give me one of her hairpins I will have it open in moments.”

  I tugged a pin from my braid and handed it to Gilbert, who was as good as his word. Erik had just stepped out of the stall and wrapped his arms around me, breathing raggedly, when Francois returned.

  “Why, Claire, how lovely of you to join us,” he slurred. “So, what this beast told us is true, eh? You have actually wed this malformed creature? When you could have had me?”

  The horror must have shown on my face. “Come now, lovely cousin. Surely this is what your father had in mind when he gave me charge of your affairs in his will. You can annul your marriage with this creature and come with me.”

  “There can be no annulment,” Erik said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Francois laughed drunkenly. “Of course it can be annulled.”

  “No, Francois, it cannot,” I responded. “The marriage has been consummated.”

  “Impossible,” Francois scoffed. “If it is true, though, I regret that you will so soon be made a widow.” The sound of a butterfly knife unfolding made his meaning abundantly clear.

  “And just so you can’t repeat your little Punjabi trick, I took the liberty of relieving you of your gutstring when I relieved you of your coat, monsieur,” he chortled drily.

  The next sound was one of small arms fire. A red stain blossomed on Francois’ shirtfront and he dropped to his knees with a shocked look on his face. Gilbert had drawn a small over-and-under derringer from his pocket, taken careful and deadly aim, and silenced my cousin forever.

  CHAPTER 28

  From the pages of Erik’s Journal:

  Now that Claire has ceased fussing about me and is asleep with the cat, I am able to write about what happened.

  I promised Claire that I would do no harm, but I carried my Punjab lasso in a coat pocket anyway. I feel naked without its protection. I made my way to the public house and waited for Francois to arrive.

  When he did come, he was not alone; this possibility had not occurred to me. Nevertheless, I beckoned for him to join me. His companions sat at another table, keeping an eye on the proceedings.

  “So,” he said to me. “What do you know of my cousin Claire?”

  “She is safe,” I rejoined. “She wants you to leave her alone, now and forever. I am prepared right now to pay any sum that you deem necessary in order to accomplish that end.”

  He laughed in my face. “By what right do you come here with this preposterous idea?”

  I drew the glove slowly from my left hand so that he could see my ring. “By the right of a husband.”

  His surprise was genuine, then his tone became sly and mean.

  “So, the little minx took a husband at last. You do know, of course, that you weren’t her first. She was engaged once before, probably her last chance, but the poor sod died after a fire. Not because of his burns, of course, though that would have been a blessing. Drank laudanum rather than marry the cold bitch, you know.”

  I felt the muscle in my left cheek pulse; this happened every time I struggled to govern my temper. Francois’ retelling of the sad end to which Claire’s fiancé Philippe had come was both mean-spirited and dishonest.

  Francois barked out another little laugh.

  “When she was part of our horse troupe, she started sleeping with one of the opera patrons, whoring around with a man who would take her places in his carriage and buy her fine clothes. Every woman has a price, apparently, even my virtuous cousin. In her case, it was furbelows. Have a care, monsieur, that she has not given you the pox.”

  The pulsing muscle in my cheek became more prominent.

  “She was not whoring, monsieur,” I responded quietly. “That man was myself.”

  “Hoho!” Francois crowed. “The little bitch was actually courting?”

  “I suggest, monsieur, that you cease to speak of my wife in that fashion.” I toyed with the Punjab lasso in my pocket but realized there were too many witnesses -- to say nothing of the promise I had made to Claire.

  “Oh, monsieur, I am sorry. I had temporarily forgotten that you made a point of claiming your right as Claire’s husband.” He gestured to his cohorts. “Come over here, gentlemen, and meet the fine fellow who has taken our Claire’s hand in matrimony.”

  I was quickly surrounded by Francois’ men.

  “And now, monsieur, let us take a walk away from this pub if you do not mind.” Francois rose and two of his men hauled me to my feet, grasping my arms just above the elbow and herding me toward the door. “We will have a talk in a place of my choosing.”

  The two men at my side forced me to follow Francois’ lead, and soon we found ourselves in the passage between two sets of stable tents. At that point, Francois turned on me and sunk his fist hard and deep in to my solar plexus. As I doubled over, his companions pulled my jacket down hard so that I could not move my arms and then joined their leader in his efforts. Soon my jacket was completely gone, and with it my lasso. My shirt was torn as I attempted to fight off the horde. Then, somehow, my mask was knocked free and shattered on the hard-trampled ground in front of me, even as I was driven to my knees and held there by rough hands. Some of Francois’ men drew back as they saw the ruin that the mask had covered, but the man himself began to laugh.

  “Monsieur, you amuse me greatly. You would have me believe that my cousin married you? That she willingly came to chapel with you? Does she know how hideous you are? Surely not.”

  I remained silent, trying to catch my breath and wondering whether my ribs were merely bruised or actually broken. Each inhalation was an agony.

  “I have just the place for an animal like you,” Francois stated baldly. He gestured toward the two men holding me on the ground and they dragged me to my feet. “You see, inhuman creatures like yourself, monsieur, need to be caged.”

  With that, I was shoved into that traveling stallion box and the door was padlocked behind me. God in heaven, to be caged again after so many years of freedom! It was almost more than I could bear. I sank down in a corner of my prison and wrapped my arms around my knees, just as I had done as a child. My eyes ached with the desire to shed tears of desperation, but I realized that doing so would prevent me from focusing on what might be done to better my situation.

  After a couple of hours, darkness fell. At length, a man bearing a lantern came along the way and I called out to him. “Monsieur, could you please come closer? I would have a word with you.”

  The man came as requested, but cautiously. He was obviously shocked by my appearance, both in the ruin of my clothes and at my abhorrent visage. However, he remained.
r />   “Yes, monsieur?”

  “Is it possible that you knew Claire Delacroix, cousin of this troupe’s leader?” I inquired.

  “Yes, monsieur. I am Gilbert, her cousin’s valet. Mademoiselle Claire was always kind to me when others were not.” He gestured downward, and my gaze followed his hand; one of the man’s shoes was built up to compensate for a leg significantly shorter than its fellow. “How do you know her?”

  “She is my newly-wed wife, Monsieur. Could you possibly take a message to her?”

  He nodded, but still looked cynical. I removed the wedding band from my hand and passed it through the bars to him. “Take this to her, along with one of those pieces of porcelain on the ground. Tell her you come from Erik.”

  I explained the location of the honeymoon cottage.

  “This isn’t some kind of trick, is it?” Gilbert asked suspiciously. “There’re some here who find it amusing to play tricks on me.”

  I shook my head sadly. “I swear to you, I am being wholly honest. That ring holds more value to me than the mere gold from which it is crafted, and I had thought never to remove it from my hand again. Please, go to Claire and tell her where I am.”

  Gilbert then left me alone, his lantern light moving ever more distant. I hoped I had not erred in trusting him.

  When Francois returned, he brought a large band of performers from all over the fair. The evening show had just ended; many of the performers were still in their costumes. The man was well into his cups and began to spiel to all present that the monster before them claimed to be married to his cousin.

  I rose and walked to the front of the cage, where I stood in silence. My hubris had brought me to this place, but I would not be cowed by the drunken fool’s taunts. The crowd’s laughter grew more raucous as Francois mocked me. His method turned on him, though, when he dared to suggest that I sing. My voice has always been the one true beauty about me, almost freakishly pure of tone and pitch. I chose an aria of which I was especially fond, and I sang: sang the crowd into silence and tears, as I had known I could.

  When the crowd dispersed, Gilbert was there, and Claire with him. At first I was angry that Gilbert had endangered her, and then I realized that her stubbornness was matched only by my own. I was truly glad to see her. Gilbert picked the lock on the cage door and released me to Claire’s waiting arms. We would have left quietly, but for Francois’ ill-timed return ... and Gilbert’s well-aimed pistol, which put an end to Francois’ mockery once and for all.

  We hurried down the alley between the stable tents, my breath ragged with the pain in my ribs. Claire’s stride was purposeful and she looked from left to right at the stalls until she found the one she wanted.

  “Gilbert, take Pierrot. Saddle him quickly and ride for Paris. Go to the Opera Garnier and find Madame Antoinette Giry. Tell her you are come from me. Ask her to take you to the daroga. When you are with the daroga, tell him he must send the coach for us as soon as possible,” she stated briskly. “Tell him we will want to stay at the Place des Vosges townhouse until further arrangements can be made and that you will stay there as Erik’s valet.”

  Gilbert nodded. “I will do as you ask, Madame. I promise.”

  Claire dug into her reticule and handed Gilbert some coins. “Money for the journey and your troubles, Gilbert. We will see you in Paris.”

  Gilbert sketched a bow to her and then went into the stall to saddle the black Andalusian. We, for our part, made our way quietly away from the town square and back toward the cottage. Our progress was slowed somewhat as Claire matched her stride to mine, and I am sorry to say that I had to lean on her more than a little at times because I was so sore.

  When we were finally safe within the walls of the little house, Claire broke down in hysterical tears.

  “Oh, god, Erik,” she gasped as she dried her eyes, “I should not have let you go.”

  “And how, my dear, would you have prevented me?” My tone was far more dry than I intended.

  She shook her head then. “I don’t know. Now, tell me where your medicines are so that I can treat those bruises, and I’ll bind your ribs.”

  I had no idea my wife could be such a cool customer. Not one word did she utter about her cousin, and she was very businesslike as she cut a pillowslip to serve as a makeshift wrap around my torso. Every bruise was besmeared with calendula and each cut daubed with witch-hazel.

  When Claire finished her doctoring, she insisted that I be seated and have a cup of tea. As I sipped the same lavender infusion with which I had plied her, she gently stroked my hair. At length she whispered to me.

  “I would die without you, Erik. You are my soul.”

  Her kiss fell gently on the ruin of my right cheek, and I could feel the warmth of her tears.

  Before I got out my pen and journal, I knelt next to her, each movement reminding me that I was injured. I made a vow to my wife to always look after her and keep her safe from harm ... for she is my soul as well.

  CHAPTER 29

  While we waited for the coachman, Erik and I packed our belongings. My beautiful trousseau went back into the boxes, which were carefully tied shut. Erik’s clothes went into a large valise. I managed to find a wicker picnic basket that would do to contain my new kitten; I was not about to abandon my pet.

  While we were packing, I expounded on my idea of Erik taking Gilbert as his valet. He was slightly incredulous at the thought.

  “He looks dusty and unkempt, Claire.”

  “Yes, Erik, he does, but Francois never did. Is that not the most important thing?”

  My fastidious husband raised an eyebrow.

  “Besides which,” I argued, “He is helping us, down to committing murder on our behalf. Do you not think we owe him something? I certainly do.”

  “You are a stubborn minx, aren’t you? Very well. I need a valet, and you need a majordomo. But we’re going to do something about Gilbert’s appearance when we get to Paris.”

  “Thank you, Erik. It’s the right thing to do.”

  It would be at least two hours before Gilbert reached Paris, by my calculations. On horseback alone, he was faster than a coach, but Pierrot could not sustain a canter for thirty miles. Add another three hours, minimum, before Zareh’s coach would collect us, I realized, and we would arrive in Paris midmorning. I said as much to Erik, knowing he wanted to avoid our being seen.

  “We haven’t much choice, Claire. We need to leave here as soon as possible. Now, let’s try to get some sleep before the coach comes.”

  We laid down on the bed in our clothes, that we might be ready at once when help arrived.

  I did not expect to doze off after the evening’s excitement, but my husband’s even breathing must have lulled me. I woke to Gilbert shaking my shoulder.

  “Madame Claire, wake up. Your friend and I are come.”

  Indeed, Zareh had come for us himself.

  “Hurry, my friends, and let us get these things atop the coach,” he said with a gesture toward the boxes.

  I left that to the men while I rounded up my protesting kitten and put him in the basket.

  “Just for a while, mon ami. We will be home soon.”

  I went outside just as the last box was being secured. Zareh was in the coachman’s seat and Gilbert took up the footman’s spot. Erik helped me into the coach, where I settled Pierre’s basket on the seat next to me.

  “This was not the wedding trip I had imagined,” Erik grimaced as he settled in across from me.

  “Me either, I must admit. Yet, here we are.” I tried to smile but the emotions of the past few days caught up with me at last. “Oh, Erik, what shall we do?”

  “Continue with my plan to leave France as soon as possible. We will take Gilbert with us, of course; someone may have seen him shoot your cousin. And you are right; we are in his debt.”

  Other than my brief idyll as a schoolgirl in Switzerland, I had never lived outside of France. The Zurich boarding school had been like a tiny kingdom unto itself, and w
e students had not gone about unescorted. I had to admit to myself that living abroad sounded like a great adventure. When I said as much to Erik, he grew solemn.

  “Claire, I lived away from France for many years. It is not an easy thing, being far from home.”

  “But we’ll be together, Erik,” I responded plaintively. “That’s all that matters to me.”

  Erik just looked at me sadly. “Yes, Claire, and that is more comfort to me than you know.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The rocking motion of the carriage made me drowsy, and I dozed on and off until we pulled up in front of the Place des Vosges townhouse. Antoinette Giry had been waiting for us there; she opened the door and nearly flew down the stairs to meet me.

  “Claire, you must come inside and tell me what happened, my dear. The men will get your belongings.”

  I followed my friend inside and into the kitchen.

  “I don’t even know where to start, Antoinette. So many things have happened.”

  I opened Pierre’s basket and let the kitten out to explore. He immediately stropped himself against Antoinette’s black skirt, leaving a streak of white hair near the hem, and then ran around examining dark corners.

  I removed my shawl and sank into a chair.

  “I’ll just start at the beginning,” I sighed.

  I finished relating the events since our wedding as Zareh, Gilbert and Erik trooped into the kitchen themselves. Antoinette made a pot of chocolate while I spoke, and we all partook of the warm, refreshing beverage.

  “Madame Claire,” Gilbert began, “Your husband has offered me a position as your majordomo. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Erik looked him up and down, taking in his dirty, disheveled clothes and shaggy hair.

  “You can start by burning those clothes and having a bath and shave,” he responded drily. “We’ll proceed from there.”