Author’s note: Again, it has been a long time. No personal tragedies to blame this time. I’ve simply been very, very busy. But I will try to update more often now. This chapter is dedicated to Mrs.T'Abby S'chn on FFN, who sent me a PM, asking when I’d be continuing my story. Thanks a lot. Now, I hope you remember where we left our star-struck lovers. To us, it has been a year, but mere moments have passed for them. Enjoy! Yours truly, Jenny Wren
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in my story, and I'm not making any money writing it.
Chapter Forty-Five
I had never kissed like that before. In the past, I had experienced tender kisses, loving kisses, anxious kisses, reassuring kisses and passionate kisses. I had never experienced a kiss so fuelled by anger before. It was burning in the pit of my stomach, as if I had taken the tea Clarille and I had fetched and poured it straight down my throat.
I had hardly ever been angry at my sisters, but now I was furious. How dared they presume that they knew what Erik and I were feeling? They had never even met Erik before, only heard foolish and untrue rumours about him. How dared they suggest that he was taking advantage of me, just when I had overcome my own anxiety and was confident that he’d never do such a thing?
Most of the time, I closed my eyes while Erik and I were kissing, but that time, I kept them open. I needed to communicate a silent message to him, I needed him to understand why I was doing it.
And understand he did. I could tell from the steady gaze of his beautiful eyes. He kissed me gently, lovingly. If there was hot tea in my stomach, Erik was slowly pouring cold water on top of it, until it didn’t hurt anymore... until the truth had cooled down enough to accept.
When I felt that it was enough, I disengaged myself from Erik, but kept my arm around his waist possessively even so as I faced my sisters. He and I belonged together now, and I wouldn’t let either of them forget it in a hurry.
They looked thunder-struck, even more so than when Erik had put in his first appearance. It occurred to me that they had never seen me engage in such an activity before. My displays of affection for Christine had always been very chaste. As far as I could recall, the most they had ever witnessed had been a gentle kiss.
Well, I thought with a sudden bitterness, at least they didn’t pity me anymore or think me a poor victim of Erik. I had made that very clear.
The trouble was that now, neither of them could look me in the eye. Sophie was still sitting on the sofa, in exactly the same position as she had when I had dragged Erik to his feet, staring down at the tea-set, as if she had been asked to memorise the flowery pattern. Clarille was slowly wandering over to her and sank down on the sofa as well.
Sophie looked up at Clarille as the latter sat down beside her. There was some sort of silent communication going on between them, but I couldn’t tell what it was anymore. I wasn’t part of that circle. It was as if that one fact about my life, the fact that I loved Erik, truly
loved him, had changed me in their eyes for good.
I felt a gentle squeeze of my shoulder.
“Shall we leave?” Erik asked in a low voice. “Or shall I leave? You could still try to talk to them and –“
“No!” I mumbled, gazing up at him like a frightened child. “I don’t... I tried... and... just take me home, Erik!”
“As you wish, my love,” he gave back. “As you wish.”
The look he gave me was so tender that I nearly burst into tears. For that one moment, no one in the world mattered but him. In that moment, I understood that Erik would love me for all times, no matter what.
But then I looked back at my sisters, and my heart gave a painful twinge in my chest. I had
so hoped they would understand. I had told myself that even if they didn’t understand, they’d at least accept it, and that would be enough. But now that they seemed to do neither, I realised just how much I had been hoping for real understanding.
Why couldn’t they be happy for me, happy that I had found love, even if it wasn’t the kind of love they had imagined? Love was love, wasn’t it?
I shook my head sadly, as if someone had asked the question aloud and I was supposed to answer it. Love was not love, at least not for most people. There was love... and then there was socially acceptable love. I didn’t doubt that my sisters loved their husbands and were loved by them in return. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder whether they would have also pursued their emotions if the men had been coach-drivers or footmen instead of having more respectable positions in society.
We had all grown up together. I could recall my father yelling at Clarille because she had dared make friends with the milliner’s daughter. I could recall him praising Philippe for making fun of a clumsy servant dropping a tray of glasses... right after dismissing said servant, of course.
We must all know our place, Father had always said.
If we forget our place, society as we know it will cease to exist. And now I had taken all conventions and shattered them. I had not only fallen in love with a man, but also with a man who was despised by society. I, who had never dared put one toe out of line, had committed two such crimes at the same time. I could hardly fault my sisters for being shocked. But even so, my heart was heavy with disappointment.
“Erik and I will go now,” I said, my voice sounding strangely hollow in my own ears. “There’s no need to see us to the door.”
I turned away from my sisters and strode away. My hand slipped from Erik’s waist and seized his hand instead. His grasp was warm and comforting.
I opened the door and led Erik down the corridor and towards the front door. He knew better than to speak, and I was grateful for it. I had tried so hard to be strong in front of my sisters, not to show my true emotions, but I knew how fragile my current state was. One wrong word, and I’d weep like a child.
We had almost reached the door when –
“Does he make you happy?” a slightly breathless voice rang out behind us.
I turned, curious in spite of myself.
There was Sophie, with Clarille hovering at her shoulder anxiously. It was Sophie who had spoken, but it was clear that once again, she was speaking for the both of them.
Involuntarily, I glanced around to see whether there were any servants to witness the scene. My father’s constant admonishing never to make oneself vulnerable in front of a servant seemed to have shown some results after all. But I needn’t have worried. There was no one there, only my sisters, Erik and me.
Only then did I listen to the question in my head again. It was such a peculiar thing to ask, after all that had been said and done. It was the kind of thing I would have loved to hear from them sooner, but now I wasn’t sure how to react. Well, I thought, the truth was always a good place to start.
“Yes,” I replied simply. “He makes me happy.”
I beamed at Erik, telling him without words that he was making me very happy indeed... perhaps happier than I had been in my whole life... certainly happier than I had been after Christine had died.
The glance I gave my sisters a moment later was defiant. Strangely, I no longer cared whether they approved or disapproved of my answer. They had already shown me what they thought of my love. It couldn’t become any worse than it was.
“Then we...” Sophie cleared her throat, looking awkward. “Then we are happy for you.”
“Yes, we are,” Clarille said, nodding emphatically.
She suddenly left Sophie’s side and rushed forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. After a moment, I returned it, patting her gently on the back.
“Take care of yourself, little brother,” she whispered into my ear. Her hair was tickling me, the scent of her rosy soap so familiar that tears sprang to my eyes.
“I will,” I gave back, my voice slightly hoarse. “And so will Erik.”
As we let go of each other, I noticed that Sophie had come closer as well. Erik had fallen back a few steps, not leaving me completely, just giving my other sister the space to join me.
“Are you planning to tell Philippe?” Sophie asked, her voice full of concern.
“No!” I said quickly. “Of course I’m not going to tell Philippe!”
“Tell me what?” a voice called behind me.
I spun around. There, on the door-step, stood my brother, his eyes narrowed as he gazed at my startled face.
