“Erik, why?” she sobbed. “I have tried so hard. I have gone to the other ladies’ homes; I have paid my calls. I have tried to talk about books, and the plays or ballet. But they just shut me out.”
Having been an immigrant myself so many times, I understood what Claire did not. Despite my previous reticence, I found myself telling her about traveling around Europe, living in Russia and Persia, and how I had been outcast not only because of my face but because I did not know the customs of those around me. I understood that it has ever been thus for those who uproot themselves and dare to brave a new life. Claire had never experienced the cutting unkindness to which I was almost immune after enduring it for a lifetime.
“Your ways are foreign to them,” I finished, “and, because they have not seen so much of the world, are frightening.”
Claire shook her head in astonishment. “What can be frightening about expanding your mind and horizons?”
“My treasure,” I responded, brushing my lips across her forehead, “small minds fear the unknown.”
* * * * *
It was some weeks since I had last bothered to hold an at-home day. The air was was ripe with scents of early spring, and I donned breeches, boots and a roll-necked pullover to work with Angel in the stable yard. She had gained weight, muscling out beautifully, and her coat bloomed with dapples. Michael’s and my gentle ministrations had paid off with the high-strung mare. She bugled whenever she saw me approaching her stall; the peppermint puffs in my pocket didn’t hurt matters.
I saddled Angel and positioned her near the mounting block. This would be my first attempt at actually riding the mare after several weeks with Michael or me working her on a long rein to build up her strength, and I didn’t know what to expect. Michael held my stirrup as I swung my leg over; I loathed the sidesaddle and refused to bother any further with it.
Angel snorted as I settled my weight onto her back, but didn’t budge.
“Michael, if you’d be so kind as to lead her around the yard?” I requested. “I just want her to get accustomed to the idea of being ridden again.”
A few circuits of the yard and I was confident that the mare would cooperate with me. Not only did she have a delicate, elastic step, but she collected beautifully, tucking her head down to get on the bit and shortening her steps. Erik stepped outside to the mews as I asked Angel for a collected trot; the mare’s gait floated her across the yard.
“She was someone’s very well-trained pet once, I suspect,” Erik pronounced as I dismounted and turned the mare over to Michael to cool. She was not yet fit enough for long rides and I didn’t want to push her endurance.
“Indeed. Perhaps one day soon, you and I will take these beautiful animals for a ride up Rotten Row. I can only imagine the scandalized looks at my breeches,” I laughed. I had more than once remarked on my amazement that the English would call Rue de Roi, “street of the king,” Rotten Row; however, it was a favorite hacking spot for those who kept horses in town.
“I cannot tell you how it pleases me to hear your laughter, Claire.” He caressed my cheek, tipping my chin up for a kiss. His hands were astonishingly cold, and I remarked on that.
“It happens in the winter, and it has ever been thus,” he shrugged, coughing a little at the same time. I made a mental note to see the glover on his behalf; clearly the fine kid gloves Erik favored would have to be lined for colder weather. If I had understood how damp and chill London winters could be, I would have arranged for it sooner.
“Come inside, Claire, and let us warm ourselves,” Erik said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “I need to talk with you.”
“You sound so solemn, Erik. What is it?”
“I have decided to take on Olympia Harrington as my pupil,” he said as we went indoors. “I hope that it will help you to be accepted if we make this overture.”
“But, Erik,” I protested, “You said you didn’t want to take a student, let alone Olympia.”
“I do not,” he rejoined. “However, a conciliatory gesture toward Olympia is also a gesture toward her mother. I cannot like how you are shut out of the ladies’ activities.”
“You do not understand, Erik,” I sighed as I headed upstairs to change my clothes. “I don’t think I want to be like those ladies at all.”
“Perhaps not, Claire,” he called after me. “But you cannot live always in isolation. I know this for certain. You need the goodwill of those women, whether you like it or not.”
I shook my head sadly and went into the bedroom. He was probably correct.
My greatest fear had nothing to do with the society matrons at all. It was that the last student he had taken was Christine Daae ... and he was in love with her. Could it be that there was more to his decision that met the eye? The Honorable Olympia was, after all, a graceful beauty with perfect English manners.
Would I never feel secure in my marriage? Some days I wondered. At least Erik was spending his nights at home again. He no longer resorted to the opium dens of Limehouse; he had finally confessed to me what he had been about.
CHAPTER 44
April 1890
It was early April, and the spring flowers were blooming. The weather even warmed up a little. Erik had just sent Olympia on her way after another lesson; under his tutelage, she was making progress as a singer. Perhaps she would achieve her ambition of singing at Covent Garden after all. I was in the kitchen with Maggie, helping peel vegetables for supper. Erik came in to get a cup of tea; Olympia’s lessons usually ended with him coughing painfully and the hot drink soothed his throat.
“Erik, perhaps you should see a doctor,” I said. “That cough has been nagging at you for nearly three weeks.”
“It’s nothing, Claire. Just a spring cold; it will clear up before long, I am sure.” He leaned down to kiss my forehead. “I’m going to read for a while, my dear. And don’t you worry about me. Everything will be fine.”
I sighed in resignation. My husband was a very stubborn man. At least we were both keeping busy in our own ways.
I had visited Joseph Merrick several more times over the past few weeks, and we were becoming fast friends. He confided to me that he was venturing out of his little rooms at Bedstead Square more often and that people made an effort to shake his hand.
“Of course, I must wear my cap, hood and cloak; I would not want to frighten the ladies who do not know me,” he said ruefully. “But nevertheless it is good to be about the town.”
He showed me a beautiful replica of St. Philip’s cathedral, built out of cardboard, that he had made himself.
“I can only see the spire,” he said, indicating the view out of his basement window, “so the rest is my imagination. But I am quite pleased with it. Doctor Treves has promised to send it to Princess Alexandra for me. Do you think she will like it?”
I responded that I was sure Her Highness would be quite grateful to receive such a lovely gift.
“Is that her picture there, Joseph?” I indicated the photograph on his mantle, in a place of prominence between my photograph and Mrs. Kendall’s.
“Yes, it is. She sent it along for me. What a kind woman she is. Society ladies are so nice to me.” Joseph was so very pleased during that visit, the delight palpable in his voice and demeanor.
I only wished that they were so nice to everyone. I had to admit that Erik’s plan to tutor Olympia Harrington had helped me gain entree into the ladies’ good graces again. However, I still found them dull and preferred the company of my own little circle at home. Even Honor had warmed up to me now that she and Gilbert were wed.
Dolly came into the kitchen then, carrying her schoolbooks and looking rather forlorn.
“Good evening, Ma’am Claire,” she said to me. “Good evening, Mummy.”
“Why the long face, miss,” Maggie asked. “You look as though you lost your best friend.”
“It isn’t that at all, Mummy. I just wish I didn’t have to go to school anymore.”
“Dolly,” I sa
id as I put the vegetables aside, “Your education is very important. It’s a wonderful thing that Prince Albert created so many public schools so that everyone can learn. You’re very fortunate.”
“Oh, no, Ma’am Claire. It isn’t that at all. I love to learn things; I just don’t want to go to school anymore. I do not like the children there; they say mean things.”
“Like what,” Maggie sat down and looked her daughter in the eye. “Tell me what’s the matter.”
“What is a hoor, mother?” The child was solemn. “One of the little girls at school said Ma’am Claire was a hoor: that all French ladies are hoors.”
“Oh, god in heaven,” I sighed.
“Dorothy,” Maggie replied sternly, “Those are not the sorts of discussions we should be having. Nice young ladies do not use those words.”
“But what is it, Mummy? The way that girl talked about Ma’am Claire made it sound like it was very bad.”
“Who is this girl, Dolly?” I asked.
“Her mummy does for the Harringtons. She said Miss Olympia said you were a hoor and that ‘Sieur Erik should find a proper lady.”
Erik entered the kitchen just then for another cup of tea.
“What on earth are we talking about?” he asked.
“Mummy and Ma’am Claire will not tell me what a hoor is,” Dolly pronounced seriously.
“Well, Madamoiselle Dolly, a whore is a woman who lies with a man for money and presents,” Erik replied.
“Hmm,” the girl mused. “Ma’am Claire doesn’t do that.”
“No,” I replied, “I do not.”
“But that means Miss Olympia is a hoor,” Dolly announced.
Erik’s laughter was rich and throaty, and I am afraid to say that I joined in. Maggie sent Dolly out to the family quarters above the stables to do her lessons; she was having too much trouble stifling her amusement.
Dinner was on the table when a knock came at the door. Jamie answered it, and came to tell us that a cab man was there. Erik went to see what was the matter, and returned shortly with Joseph Merrick.
“I am sorry to interrupt your evening, Claire,” he said. “I believed this would be your at-home day and I thought I would call.”
“Joseph, I am so delighted to see you. Let Erik help you off with your wraps and perhaps you will join us for dinner.” I smiled in welcome. “I was just thinking about our last visit and am so glad you have come.”
“I would not want to put you out,” Joseph rejoined.
“Not at all. We have plenty,” I said. “We are taking dinner in the kitchen this evening, as a family.”
Erik helped Joseph off with his cap, cloak and hood, and we all went into the kitchen. Maggie and Dolly gasped, and Honor looked down at her plate. Gilbert, on the other hand, stood to greet our guest and introduced himself.
“Let me assist you, Mister Merrick. Madame Claire has told us so much about you. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Gilbert could always be counted upon for an unflappable response, and the others fortunately took their cue from him.
“Yes, Mister Merrick. Let me make you a plate,” Maggie said. She went to the stove to prepare another setting.
“You did not tell me you had such a large family, Claire,” Joseph said.
“We’re the staff,” Gilbert replied. “Erik and Claire treat us like family. Please permit me to make the introductions.”
I was grateful to Gilbert and Erik that night for their kindness toward my friend. He had taken an enormous risk in leaving his safe little home to see me.
We ate our meal amidst discussion of books and plays. It reminded me of the old days in Paris, when we would all talk about the news of the day. It was one of the nicest evenings I had passed in a long while and I said as much to Joseph when Michael helped him into our little coach to take him home.
“I shall come and see you tomorrow, Joseph. I am so glad you came tonight. Sleep well, mon ami.” I waved good-bye to the little coach and went back inside.
Unfortunately, it was the last time that I would see my friend; I learned from Doctor Treves the next day that Joseph had died in his sleep. He was accustomed to sleep sitting up, surrounded by pillows, but that particular night he had slept lying down and asphyxiated due to the weight of his head. I was devasted by the news.
“When will the funeral take place, Frederick?” I asked as I dried my tears.
“There won’t be a funeral, Claire. I have arranged for castings to be made of Joseph’s body. An anatomist is going to preserve the skeleton for me.”
I was appalled. Joseph had been a devout Christian; he often told me that his favorite reading material was the Bible. Regardless of my own rather un-churched ways, I did not think that this was right at all and said so.
“I am sorry you feel that way, Claire,” Treves rejoined. “Joseph Merrick will make an enormous contribution to the sciences this way, and that is far more important than religious superstition. I hope that your husband will consider that when his own time comes.”
I was too shocked at the doctor’s temerity to respond and so I walked away. I wondered whether Treves had really cared about Erik or me at all. Once he saw Erik’s face unmasked, I suspected, he was already planning for his next curiosity presentation at the hospital’s rounds. It made me angry to even think about it.
But there was also nothing I could do. I made my way home and shared the sad news with our household.
“None of us will forget him, Claire,” Erik said. “We will all remember Joseph in our own way.”
We would have spoken further, but Olympia arrived for her singing lesson. Gilbert followed me upstairs.
“Is there anything I can do, Claire?”
I shook my head. “I just need to be by myself right now, Gilbert. I could not have imagined the world could be so cruel.”
He closed the door behind himself, and I listened to his halting footsteps on the stairs.
CHAPTER 45
May-June 1890
From the pages of Erik’s journal:
My cough is growing steadily worse, and today there was blood on my handkerchief. Claire persuaded me to see a doctor at London Hospital, and he told me that there is dampness in my lungs. That I need a warmer climate.
I am reluctant to uproot Claire again. Merrick’s death affected her greatly, all the moreso because of how his earthly remains were dealt with. She tried discussing her feelings with the ladies who came to her at-home (yes, at long last), but they did not understand.
“How could you care about a circus freak, Claire,” Alice Harrington asked her. “It’s not as though he was a person of quality.”
How shocked that lady would be if her daughter ever saw the maestro’s unmasked face. I am no longer providing instruction to Olympia, for she is now enceinte and has laid the pregnancy at the door of a local burgess. A rather hurried wedding is in the offing, I am told.
I must write to Zareh and ask him to complete a single task so that I can return to France. It is time for us to go home, I think. To the south of France this time, to Provence or Camargue, so that I will have the warmer climate the doctor ordered and Claire will have peace of mind.
* * * * *
I fussed over Erik more than I ought to have done, I am sure. He could hardly move without me bringing him a soothing linctus or a hot drink. I was afraid of losing him to the catarrh in his chest; on the heels of Merrick’s death, I would doubtless become unhinged.
Erik’s ailment also gave me a good excuse to stop my at-home days for the foreseeable future; I had no more stomach for Alice Harrington’s society. When I was not nursing my husband, I was riding one of the horses.
Sometimes Erik insisted that Gilbert take me to a museum so that I would get out of the house for a while and he could work on his correspondence with Zareh. Another move was in the offing, this one at the doctor’s orders, and I would be happy to close up the house. I wrote references for the entire Stubbins family and had no doubt that
they would find situations when we were ready to leave. I planned to give them some money to help make the transition easier, even though I was told it was unnecessary. I could not just leave these kindly people without support while they sought other benefactors. Gilbert and Honor found a flat in town to rent, and established their own household. Doctor Treves arranged to make Gilbert his valet; they would be well provided for.
It was almost June when Erik received a parcel from Zareh. In it were a deed to a farm just outside Avignon, and a copy of Le Matin. In the newspaper was an agony item that read “Erik is dead.” It was these items that Erik had been waiting to receive.
He sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, where he could be kept warm and comfortable. He seldom wore his mask anymore; the coughing fits dislodged it anyway and there was no one to see him except our family of friends. He hated being treated like an invalid, but tolerated my fussing.
“I told Christine Daae that I would have Zareh place this item in the paper when I was gone,” Erik explained. “She will tell the Opera Garnier folk, and word will reach the authorities. No one will look for me again. Everyone will believe I am dead.”
I shuddered; the English have a saying about geese walking over one’s grave, and this was what they meant.
“Please, Erik, don’t talk of your death even in jest. Let us just arrange to be gone from this place. We are going home, my love, and everything will be fine. I will make sure of it.”
“Don’t tempt the gods, Claire,” Erik whispered, and I leaned over so that he could kiss me. “I love you. Never forget that you healed me.”
“My darling, please don’t be so melancholy,” I begged. “All will be well once we are back in France.”
He coughed again as I knelt down and put my head in his lap. “I hope you’re right,” he sighed.
CHAPTER 46
THE SEDUCTION OF GABRIEL STEWART Page 16
