The Stirrings of a Cold Heart Ch. 05

Over the next several days the vampire read over the documents he received on Emile while the tenor was busy preparing a lavish birthday for his mother. Emile Claudel loved to entertain in grand fashion, at least when someone of note was present. Invitations had gone out to members of the opera as well as a few other patrons he was acquainted with, but he had set his sights on a bigger prize. To impress he had ordered Ragu of Veal, white soup, cold fowl, and sturgeon to be served along with marzipan, flummeries and petit fours for dessert. He made sure there would be plenty of rum punch as well as his favorite Portuguese wine. He had seen the expensive clothing that Erik wore and heard Aidan talk about the finery of Osrik House and wanted very much to cultivate a friendship. Hopefully his fine taste would impress even if it did put him further in debt.

As he planned his splendid affair, he was also asking around about Erik Ambrose. He wanted to know what sort of business he was in and what his family was like. While Emile truly believed himself to be the most important person in the room, he still found that such information could be quite handy in striking up a conversation and seeming to be a kindred spirit. He had learned that flattery and pandering to the likes and desires of an aristocrat could often grant you favors and potentially elevate status. Unfortunately finding out anything on his wealthy guest was proving impossible. He checked passenger manifests and talked with banks but could not learn anything about the elusive Mr. Ambrose. For the first time he became concerned that perhaps he was wrong and Erik wasn't really an aristocrat. Perhaps his fortune was only a facade or came from less than honorable means.

Pretending to have a fortune was unforgivable in Emile's eyes. To him it made a person lower than vermin that scurried in back alleys and through the gutters. If someone made their wealth from business dealings that were less than above board, well . . . he could overlook a lot in return for favors. The opportunity to step inside exclusive clubs and rub elbows with powerful men was what he valued most, not how such people conducted themselves. Emile would readily condemn a woman selling herself so that her child might have a morsel of bread while overlooking or even praising the aristocrat that had forced himself upon her in the first place. Of course, he could not be sure of what sort of man Erik Ambrose was yet and rather than risk possibly losing a powerful, affluent connection he would simply have to proceed with caution.

The night of the party everything was perfect. Everyone was dressed in their finest, the best china was out and the rooms were brilliantly lit with beeswax candles. Although they were costly, Emile had purchased as many as possible and had them set in the chandeliers and round the dining room and parlor. Decorative mirrors were carefully placed to reflect the light bathing everything in a warm glow. Calling in a few favors he had managed to get four of the orchestra members to play as a string quartet so the guests could dance after supper.

The guests arrived and were seated in the dining room just before sunset with the sumptuous feast before them. Each one ate their fill and washed it down with rum punch or wine. Toasts were made to Patrice in honor of the occasion, especially by Emile who put on a great show of love and loyalty to his mother which was nothing more than that, a show. Still, for a brief moment she could not have been happier than she was sitting among so many friends, but it did not last. True to his word, Erik arrived and was shown into the dining room just after sunset when everyone was finishing desert. As soon as the servant showed him in, Patrice Claudel immediately went pale.

"Mr. Ambrose, may I present my mother, Madame Patrice Claudel."

"A pleasure, Madame."

"Delia," Emile called to one of the maids. "I'm sure our guest must be famished, why don't you bring him some of the venison and some wine."

"I thank you, but it is not necessary." The vampire turned and looked over at Aidan gently nodding an acknowledgment to her. She smiled back at him then took a sip of her wine. Emile looked at her face, then back at the vampire, then poured himself a drink.

The group of revelers continued to sit around the table and talk, discussing items of interest that varied from the latest fashions and gossip to the impending birth of Napoleon's first child as well as King George III's recent illness. Regardless of what they tried to talk about, Emile always attempted to steer the conversation back to himself, usually without success. Erik sat listening to the conversations, but spoke very little. His perspective on the news of the day tended to be quite different from that of mortals, particularly since he often had a hand in creating it. Even now his pockets were well lined with gold after procuring and delivering certain drugs that would ensure the king's continued madness and blindness. He had no conscience about it and really didn't need the money. He had always enjoyed toying with humanity, or at least he normally did. At that moment, looking across the table at Aidan, he found himself feeling rather unworthy of her smiles or her good opinion.

"May I suggest we retire to the sitting room for music and dancing?" Emile suggested to everyone's approval.

When the guests were once again comfortable, the tenor asked Aidan to indulge everyone with a song. Aidan was only too happy to perform and handed the musicians sheet music. Seizing the opportunity, Emile quickly moved to Erik's side hoping to draw him out. If this mysterious guest was all he seemed to be then he certainly wanted to make a good impression so he could advance himself. He poured on the charm and spoke of business and politics so fluently that one could almost believe he had the highest connections in London.

"Now tell me, what business did you say you were in?" Emile asked hoping to find out something about his guest.

"My own." Erik attempted to move away and enjoy Aidan's singing, but his host would not be put off so easily.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Ambrose. I noticed that you have an interesting accent. Where are you from? What business are you in? I, for one, enjoy dabbling in various . . ."

"So you tried to state numerous times at the table, sir. As for me, I have traveled all over the world and my business . . . is mine alone and no one else's. Mr. Claudel, I came to celebrate your mother's birthday, not to talk about commerce. Besides, Miss Cathal is singing and I would very much prefer to listen to her." At Erik's rejection Emile poured himself more wine and quickly downed it to pour another. He would need to find a way to break his interest in her. Aidan finished her piece to the applause of the guests. She then sat down at the piano forte and began to play a portion of Mozart's Sonata. "She has much talent." Erik mused to himself aloud.

"Yes," Emile interjected, once more hoping to connect with his guest and further himself. "I have always encouraged her musical endeavors." He finished his glass of wine and poured another. "It is hard to imagine that she is the daughter of a common dustman. I understand that he died when she was only a baby and that her mother became a laundress to support them." He watched Erik's face to see his reaction to Aidan's background, but there was none.

"It is a remarkable thing to see a woman rise above her humble beginnings and become so accomplished," Erik answered.

"Yes when we heard she had been orphaned, my mother and I felt it was our Christian duty to raise her and give her a better chance at life." Emile tried to look the part of Christian charity, but it was not a part he wore well.

"Did you?" Erik answered curtly then walked away to the other side of the room as Aidan finished playing. She as well as the others were lined up in two rows and began to dance as the string quartet played. He watched her with a young man from the chorus and felt that she would be better off with that young man than the pompous ass that was trying to force her to the altar.

From across the room a woman approached him. She was older than Aidan, probably in her thirties with a kind smile and fine dark hair. He recognized her as Adele Nilsson who played the Queen of the Night in the opera. He had admired her performance and found her voice to be exceptional, like Aidan's. Smiling brightly she strode up to him and immediately introduced herself.

"Mr. Ambrose, I am so happy to meet you. Miss Cathal has spoken very highly of you."

"She does me great honor, Mrs. Nilsson, but I am hardly worthy of it," he answered.

"Nonsense, though I have never heard her speak harshly of anyone, she is not one to give compliments freely either. She holds you in very high regard, sir." Her words almost embarrassed him. He had never felt more undeserving of praise in all his existence than at this moment.

"Are you and her close?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Oh yes. She's like a little sister to me."

"Tell me then, why hasn't she married? Surely a young woman with her beauty and accomplishments has had suitors." He could see in her expression she wasn't sure if she should say anything or not. After a moment she leaned a little closer and began to tell Erik the reason.

"She has had plenty, but Mr. Claudel . . . well, he has found ways to undermine any attachments. One young man who intended to marry her, David I think his name was. He was very handsome, wealthy and they were very fond of each other. Mr. Claudel called on his family with the sole purpose of telling them about her rather humble parentage." Adele didn't doubt that the origins the tenor described were far worse than the reality, but she already felt as though she were saying too much. "She was terribly disappointed when they refused the match."

"Why does Mr. Claudel have such designs on her, he clearly doesn't care for her." He waited a moment but she didn't speak. Adele hated to spread gossip, but decided in this case it might be the best thing to help Aidan and hopefully prevent a similar disappointment and broken heart.

"You're right, he doesn't love her. Until a few years ago he was completely indifferent to her."

"What changed?" He probed.

"Money, Mr. Ambrose. He discovered that upon her marriage she would be given a substantial dowry. Mr. Claudel squanders what income he and his mother receive and he can't begin to pay off the debts he has incurred. He thinks no one can see it, but everyone knows. When he found out about her impending fortune, he arrived at the theater in such a jubilant manner. No one had ever seen him like that. He wanted each of us to congratulate him because he was going to be married. We asked him who the lucky girl was and he told us it was Miss Cathal, but asked us not to mention it to her because she didn't know yet. We were shocked to say the least. He explained that he had been going through some of his mother's papers and found out that when she married she would receive a dowry of £30,000. I was stunned and saddened. I don't know if he has ever asked her, but from that moment on, he sabotaged any chance she had at forming an attachment." Everything she said matched the information that Erik had already received

"Why Miss Cathal? Why hasn't he tried to marry a young woman with more money, title and property?" he pressed.

"He has, Mr. Ambrose. Mr. Claudel can make an excellent first impression, but he can never maintain it. If I may be frank with you, sir, were it not for the deep respect and affection we have for his mother, Patrice Claudel, I doubt any of us would have come tonight."

Erik thanked Adele for the information and assured her that it had been a most enlightening conversation. The vampire then walked over to Aidan and with a polite bow asked her for the next dance, which she eagerly accepted. At the same time Emile approached her with the same request. With many an apology she explained that she was already partnered with Erik. The tenor stared at his guest, his eyes narrow and cold. Silently he bowed then went to the far wall, stopping long enough to take a bottle of wine from one of the servant's trays as he passed. Emile engaged one of the chorus girls in superficial conversation, but his eyes never left Aidan and Erik.

Seated on a couch with a view of the entire room sat Patrice. It had startled her to see Erik at her birthday, but now other things were more alarming. She could see the delight in Aidan's face as she looked up at Erik. Though he showed no expression she had noticed he never took his eyes off of her. Worse yet, anger and jealousy was showing in the lines of her son's face and growing more apparent as he drank. A few feet from away Patrice could hear two chorus girls gossiping.

"Aidan seems quite taken with Mr. Ambrose and he certainly hasn't taken his eyes off of her," giggled one girl behind her silk painted fan.

"He is very handsome and obviously rich. I would not be surprised if they formed an attachment."

"Mr. Claudel may find it much harder to chase away this suitor. See how he glares at him," giggled the first girl again. Their words reinforced what Patrice was seeing and it filled her with more dread. Aidan noticed nothing beyond her dance partner.

"You make me nervous when you look at me like that," she said.

"Like what?" Erik asked.

"You watch me like a thousand thoughts are going through your mind at once," she answered. "What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking that you remind me of a young queen I once met."

"I look like her?" Aidan asked in surprise.

"There is a resemblance, yes. Her hair was the color of yours and she had sunlight in her eyes the way you do. She gave me the title of knight of the realm and protector of her kingdom." He saw her eyes get wide at the idea that he was a knight and quickly corrected it. "Unfortunately she did not have the power to bestow titles. I still consider myself her knight though and I have thought of her many times over the years."

"You must have had quite a love affair with her," Aidan said playfully as the music stopped and everyone clapped.

"There was no love affair between us, Miss Cathal. I don't believe in forming attachments."

"Perhaps, but the heart is a curious thing. You may wake up someday and find you have made an attachment and the thought of severing it too painful to endure." Without his asking her they once more partnered for the next dance.

While the piano played a scotch reel, Erik looked over at his host. His normally blue eyes were bloodshot and darkness was beginning to show beneath them. His bearing seemed different, a bit more stooped then before. Erik found himself wondering, How much wine had he drunk?

"I can't get over how cold your hands are." Aidan remarked, drawing Erik's attention back to the dance.

"Forgive me. I forget how they feel."

"It's fine. I'm sure you have a warm heart to make up for it." She smiled up at him and he was taken back. No one had ever suggested that he had a heart, let alone one that might be warm. He was still holding her hand when the music stopped and Emile barged between them.

"Miss Cathal, I hope you will finally grant me a dance this evening." His words were slightly slurred and Aidan was hesitant to accept, but she dutifully took his hand. Erik stepped away, but remained close. He did not want to be far if things went bad. At first everything seemed fine then in an act of humiliation Emile stuck his foot out slightly as Aidan passed, causing her to trip and fall. "You clumsy oaf!" he spat at her. The room fell silent instantly. Patrice tensed up as Erik took a single step forward. "Perhaps I need to wait for a more worthy partner," emile continued, "one who can dance." Nobody spoke and the silence was deafening.

"Forgive me, sir, I should pay closer attention to my steps." Aidan hoped this would ease the discomfort in the room, but the tension was still palpable. Erik stepped forward and extended his hand in assistance. "Thank you," she said, clasping it and getting back on her feet again. Emile was oblivious to the way his guests stared at him in shock and embarrassment. He saw nothing but their two hands clasped together. The darkness that filled his eyes and expression were frightening to the young soprano and she instinctively moved closer to Erik. Surely he would not lash out in front of all these people, but later when they were alone would be another matter. The vampire could see the look of fear on Aidan as well as the hate in Emile's and silently vowed that he would not be leaving this place until he had guaranteed his faery queen's safety and freedom.