Ch. 13 - Prepare, and Beware...

Ch. 13 - Prepare, and Beware...
Emmeline and Manuel managed to unload, at last, the final boxes of gowns, petticoats, gloves, stockings, jackets, shoes, a hat, bells, whistles, all of which Madame Yvanna insisted Em would be needing; as it was all on Daryl's nickle, Emmeline didn't debate the issue...even though she did not think she would be needing so many...things.
Howsomever, she did need a new wardrobe, by now. For one thing, she had lost some weight. Other items had been left in Mexico--which was entirely Daryl's fault. And what of his horse? She suppposed that he had simply left him in trade, for Emmeline...
Recalling that night, Em decided perhaps she ought to have purchased more...
She shook out and hung up her new gladrags, folded lingerie and gloves in the drawer with lavender, and saved the Big Box for last...
Em bent over her bed, upon which it sat, and raised the black and white striped lid... A mound of dark scarlet in satin lay within, the fabric nearly black inside the depths of the folds...  Em drew it out of the box, slowly, watching it unfurl itself into a waterfall of crimson silk and satin...
It was a dream come to life. No fairy tale princess ever graced a ballroom enshrined in a more mythical gown...Em surveyed the jet beading across the bodice with satisfaction; it wasn't too ostentatious really,( aside from the red!) It had a lowish curving neckline, but modest, compared with most ballgowns of the day; a slope; just off the shoulder, with a catch of folds in puff sleeves which tightened and tapered to just below the elbow. The bodice dipped to just below the waist in a V-shape and draped below in clever folds accenting her trim figure with just a hint of bustle; she knew that the bustle was long out of fashion, but she still rather found them fetching, as well as affording the occasional comfortable cushion.
She was glad to be going now, and glad to be seeing Jack there as well.
She hoped she was doing the right thing...a thing which, staying here with Daryl certainly was not... She gazed at her reflection, holding the scarlet to her mirror image. Why not, Emmeline? She asked herself. It's hardly the craziest thing you've done...it seems practically sane, by comparison...
She smiled then, holding her head to the side, assessing the girl in the mirror. Girl, no longer. Em noted her sunken cheeks. She sighed. She was closing in on the heels of thirty, and recent years had ridden her hard.
Surely life with Jack would be a welcome change...she wondered.
In some ways...she almost loved him too much. Too much to stay with him. She feared he would tire of her, and then where would she be? Best stay one step ahead, had been ever her motto. She regarded the Emmeline in the mirror. What was Josephina doing now? Her blood sister. What had they thought happened the evening she disappeared? Daryl...he had some explaining to do. His family, was it? Gypsy family, in the village. They could get word to Esperanza and Carlos at least.
Ultimatum time, Daryl. Em was emboldened now that she was soon to escape.
                         . . . . .
She found Daryl in the parlor.
'What did you do with your horse?' It wasn't what she wanted to ask, but somehow it just happened.
'Horse? Which horse?' Daryl was measuring his mantlepiece with a yardstick.
'The horse you left in Mexico. The horse you ride when you kidnap people.'
Daryl paused a moment, wrote down his measurements in a small book.
'Ah, that horse.'
Em sighed and flounced upon the sofa. Waiting.
'I left him there.'
'Yes, I know, WE left him there! It isn't as though I wasn't aware of exactly what was happening! You abducted me!' Em exclaimed feeling bullish now. 'One doesn't simply forget these things, like yesterday's  news...'
Daryl stood back, surveyed the fireplace. Scratched his head with the yardstick. Held it up against the wall, tilting his head sideways.
He turned and paced from the fireplace to the wall opposite. Turned again.
Took a sip from his cold teacup.
'The horse...Toranado, is well known in the village. Everyone knew it belonged to the brother of my gypsy blood brother...'he flicked a glance at Em. 'When your friends returned home, and found Toranado, they knew that you were with me.'
Em considered this.'Just like that: I was with you. So, no problema?'
'Exactly.'
Somehow...Emmeline wondered about that.
But, best just let that 'float', as Daryl would say, regarding unfortunate truths.
'Madame Yvanna sends her greetings...'
'Were you successful in your shopping?' Daryl eyed his mantle from across the room.
'Yes. Very.' Emmeline relaxed against the sofa back. 'Thank you.'
'Da nada, filla...' Daryl finally took his tea and sat in the armchair across from her. 'I hope you got all you may be needing.'
Shopping for her trousseau, no doubt, as well. Daryl was gripped with conflicting emotions; he felt loss at Emmeline's leaving, but he also felt warm inside, knowing that he had helped her and Jack to find one another again. He softly sighed...gods it all made him feel so old, suddenly...
Em looked down, embarassed by all his largesse. 'Yes. I'm afraid Madame was quite adamant about...it all...'
Daryl smiled, on one side of his face at least. 'I can imagine.'He sighed again. 'She is an old friend. I do have the odd friend in odd places, you know.' He paused. 'I'm sure Carlos, Esperanza and yes, Josephina all know you are here, and reasonably safe.'
Em didn't know what to say to that. That still didn't make it alright. But, how to gripe about someone who has just spent a small fortune on your wardrobe...? Well, he was here and not adverse to talking, so...
  'Diego...you knew my parents you said.'
Daryl eyed his empty cup. 'Care for some tea?' He stood.
Oh, no you don't, you're not getting away from it all that easily.
'Yes. I'll come to the kitchen with you.'
He gestured her to please proceed, and followed, tapping his cup.
He rinsed it, refilled the kettle, put tea leaves in a new pot, set the kettle on to boil. Looked about, rather lost; and at last took a seat on a stool across from Em. He gazed into his own cup, looking for clues...'I didn't know them well. Actually only met your mother once or twice. The photo you saw...was taken at a sort of private convention here in the city, way back when...when this house,' he gazed about him, 'belonged to a society of, inventors I suppose you could say.'
'Not a private residence?'
'It was, but it was also used as a meeting place. I have remodeled much, since then. 'He stood and answered the kettle's whistle, and poured. 'It was here, then, that I first saw your artefact.' He looked intently at her.
'Indeed?' Em was most interested now. 'What do you know about it?'
Daryl blinked, cleared his throat. 'Not much, really. Truly, I don't think anyone, even your father knew much about it. It was rather an enigma to everyone. But--' Daryl poured for them, 'I later found out where it probably originated, and that gave me a clue, about it, and about...your father.' Both of them, he thought, but didn't voice it.
Em stirred her tea, entranced. At last, some real news she could use! 'Yes?' she prodded. 'What did you find?'
Daryl sighed again, staring into his cup. 'I found...do you recall that when I explained about the gene splicing, that Others had been using that method before our scientists here began experimenting with it...?'

'Yes. But you declined to mention who those Others were...'
'Right.'Not ready for this, either one of us, thought Daryl. Well, if not now, when? The girl will be off soon...cowboy up, pilgrim, he told himself. 'Right...well, these same Others, who had perfected the gene splicing to a science, and who gave our scientists the knowledge of the techniques used...it was through them,indirectly, that the artefact was delivered to your father.' There. If I'd known I'd be tap-dancing about the truth, I'd have worn the shoes to fit the occasion, thought Daryl, hoping she wouldn't pry too deeply.
'Hmm,' Em thought about that. It wasn't really an answer, was it...?
She thought she'd try another tack: 'And, the man I saw in the cauldron, you say you knew him, also?'
Damn. His feet would get sore now with all the dancing about. 'Not, as such...I, had some dealings with...his people.'
Em waited. And waited. 'And, so, his people then? Are they all a race of such tall beings?'
'Not entirely. As I understand it, the older peoples, are the Tall Ones. From an ancient timeline in their history. Contemporary people there, are more our size.' He took a sip, mouth dry. 'But...the man selected as your father, was rather small for their size. They thought it would be best that way.'
'They. Who, Daryl?' And he noted she called him 'Daryl' when she meant business...'Diego' when she was trying to be nice. 'Who are these Others? And what was my father, here, doing with them?'
Daryl grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. Leaned his chin on his hand, finally. 'There is much I don't understand, Emmelina...I don't have all the answers, believe me--I've tried to track them down myself...'
'Then tell me what you do know, please!?'Em pleaded.
He leaned back then, his head against the wall, and stared at the ceiling. Closed his eyes. 'Emmelina...if only you knew how opposed I am to abduction.' Em was tempted to snort in derision, but checked the impulse. He opened his eyes, gazed at his tea. 'I have been abducted, myself. Many times.'
Emmeline waited. This was unexpected news. Sipped her tea.
'The...Others, who were working on the gene splicing with our scientists, were also working in concert with two different people, ah, aliens, you might say. One type of people were the Tall Ones.
From them, I believe, came the artefact. I found out later, that not all of their people are working with the Others by choice. This had come about due to a schism...their people split into many different groups. Some abided by the laws of their high council, and others, went renegade.These renegades were working with the Others, and different groups.'
Oh, this sounded rather too 'court intrigue' for a California girl . It was nearly the 20th Century after all...'There were, are revolutions...when people become oppressed...'
 '"...six tumbrells roll along in the streets...six tumbrells carry the day's wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and insatiate monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are fused in the one realization: Guillotine. And yet there is not in France, with it's rich variety of soil and climate, a blade a leaf a root a sprig, a peppercorn which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain than those which have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression ever again and it will surely yield the same fruit according to it's kind..."'
 Daryl eyed her darkly. 'Yes, there are revolutions,' he gazed down and sighed softly. 'Needed, definately when change is due, but, bloody always, and nearly always replaced with perhaps only a different form of oppressive governing.'
Em stared before her, past Daryl, out the window at the hills and bay beyond. A Tale of Two Cities...and of two men, close enough in looks to be kin, and one who sacrifices all for the other...Sydney Carton. Emmeline always did love him best; he was the true hero/antihero of the tale, never mind Darnay...he was no Sydney Carton. Not to Em.
Oh,truly, Carton was no good, the bad boy brilliant Byronic barrister wastrel who wrapped his head about in a towel evenings, side by side with old Stryver hammering out the next case's defense, matching one another bottle for bottle til the wee hours...oh, how she adored Carton above all. And he gave his life for the woman he loved;one whom he never could have. She gazed at Daryl. He looked away, finally.
Emmelina felt confused.
 'You were on the stage. I would have liked to have seen you, in one of your plays.' Why was she saying this? It was practically flattery. More confusion. She looked about for her tea, took a sip. 'I, we, saw Morgana, you know. Here, in the city...'
Daryl's gaze adapted that frozen look. 'When.'
'Oh, it was...long ago. Actually, last New Year's!'
Daryl's head slowly moved toward her. 'Morgana. Carlysle.'
'Yes. In "Opheus", 'direct from Paris!'--she goes by a new moniker now, Margueritte Carrington, Jack saw her there as well...Aleister, he recognized her, and she, him; well...' Em flustered. She could feel a change in the air but only noted that Daryl was oddly ominously quiet.  'Actually she, she took Jack for you...at first.'
Daryl regarded her narrowly. 'Yes?'
'She soon, realized otherwise.' Em wished she hadn't said so much already.
 Daryl looked at her as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing but still did not like it a bit.
 'Do not, ever, trust her, see her, let her see you, and above all, do not talk to her! Ever! Capice'?' Daryl looked like a bad thunderstorm suddenly.
Best humor all that. 'Right.'
'Ever.' Daryl stood, and stormed out.
 Discussion's end.
                               . . . .
In the days that followed, winter's chill gripped the city; the wind from the bay was like ice, and when there was no wind, a cold fog
settled in and seeped into one's very bones.
Emmelina, Rosa and Manuel hid out in the kitchen, baking their blues away. Keeping the wood cookstove going helped cheer them through the cold. Em had taken some time off work over the holiday season...
work at the library had been so slow that she wasn't missed. People were visiting family and friends out of town this time of year and patronage had dwindled.
'My bones are cold...'Rosa shook her head, rubbing her arms and drew her shawl about her, tying it tightly. 'This city of Saint Francis is a chill one indeed. That poor saint, with his bald head exposed like that, ayee...he would be happier in Mehico, I do believe...'
Em smiled, altogether sympathetique'... 'I know the feeling, Rosa...although I wasn't in Mexico long...(Em actually couldn't recall how many weeks, months she had been there, come to think of it), even when it rained it didn't seem as icy as here. It does seem much colder...' she wished only now to bake and bake and take tea until spring. And hibernate, like a bear.
'I'd like to have a nice solstice dinner before the ball later, here at the house, with everyone...perhaps invite Madame Yvanna...I really don't know of any of Dar...don Diego's acquaintances here...'
Em wished to patch things up between them. She didn't want to simply
flounce off to the ball to have fun out with Jack,in her finery, paid for by Diego,and leave him alone and Byronic stewing in his attic by himself...
And he would too, she just knew it.
Odd how she had come to know so much about Daryl. They sensed one anothers' moods and thoughts. She had gotten to where she could almost read his mind as well... She wondered about his outburst regarding Morgana. It had been obvious that Morgana was obsessed with Daryl, she had chosen her leading men to fit his specifications in overall appearance. Daryl, however, did not share her feelings. He seemed, in fact, to find her utterly abhorrent, perhaps dangerous, for Emmeline at least.
'Do you have a menu yet?' Rosa inquired.
'No. Perhaps I should go over it first with Madame. She knows good food! Manuel? Could we perhaps, this afternoon...?'
'Yes.' He never looked more dour. 'If we must.' He looked down, sadly.
Emmelina wasn't letting it get to her. Not much time left to prepare everything. 'Excellent. I'll just make certain that our plans don't interfere with Daryl's...' She headed down the hall to his study, whilst Manuel sighed lugubriously and Rosa smilingly patted his back as he left, taking his hat and coat from the hallway and went in back to the stable.
                            . . . .
It was nearing dusk, and with carriage laden from Madame's restaurant, as well as various markets about town, menu secured in hand, Emmeline returned triumphant and she and Rosa began planning tomorrow's dinner. For tonight was solstice eve.
Solstice tomorrow already! Rosa assured Emmelina that she preferred to bake items fresh in the morning and everything else was either stored in the icebox, or awaiting preparation just prior to dinner.
And so tonight was a small, casual meal just the three of them then, Daryl still shut up in his study or elsewhere.
After their meal, Em went up to her room, and made her final preparations for the ball...She would wear her Herkimer of course, it was such an odd piece of jewelery it would be sure to cause a stir, she thought smiling. Although it would not quite match, she would also wear the cameo, pinned to a black velvet choker about her neck. She felt that Daryl's and Jack's gifts both deserved to be seen...
She glanced about, noting that all seemed to be in order...her gaze went to the drawer in her night table. She opened it. The artefact
still rested there, wrapped in it's silken cocoon. It seemed peaceful enough.
It had come in handy, before, she had to admit. She took her small sewing kit from her closet, a gift from Rosa, and found thread color
to match her new gown. Close enough, she decided. She hated to alter the perfection of such a creation, but...she thought that with all the folds of cloth, she could secret a small pocket therein, no one the wiser...she gently cut and pulled the threads apart at the seam. Well, it's done now...and Em began to sew her Secret Pocket into her solstice gown. Whatever impetus drove her to do this, she wasn't sure, but...she felt it best to err on the side of caution.
It had been such a handy Thing.
                            . . . .