The day of the Solstice dawned bright and clear for once. Oh, it was cold, certainly, a north wind had cleared the fog, leaving only the ice blue sky and wan sunshine.
Rosa was up early bustling about the kitchen, setting to work upon the baking and firing the stove up for the day's cooking marathon.
'Actually, it isn't all that much...'she was telling Emmeline over their morning coffee. Em had switched from her usual tea today, wishing to get into high gear for the day ahead. 'Just the yeasted rosemary rolls for dinner with ginger-rum cake for dessert...I've already made the cake, it just needs to be soaked in rum...and then lighted before serving!
'So then, I need only roast the duck and braise the green beans with almonds...Madame has supplied all the rest we need for tonight!'
Emmelina poked her head into the icebox, noting the
fresh oysters and shelled shrimp, wheels of cheeses,
dates and olives, fresh cream to be whipped for the gingercake and deviled eggs (for Daryl, no doubt, Em mused wickedly).
Yes, that would certainly do nicely...they had fruit and nuts aplenty, and Madame had also sent various wines along with two bottles of champagne. A decent table indeed, for the solstice...
Em realized then that she wouldn't be spending the holiday with her family like last year...such changes! Amelie with with her husband in Thailand on diplomatic business, with their young son, Aidan. And no Alice this year...Em sighed. Well, she would be seeing Jack later. But, she felt that she should spend some of her last hours here with Daryl, sans Jack.
The whole thing needed closure, somehow. A quiet supper, with just Manuel, Rosa, Madame Yvanna and Daryl and Emmeline...would have the requisite coziness Em was striving for tonight.
Before she made her farewells.
. . . .
After Em had helped Rosa (or gotten in the way), in the kitchen, she was sent off elsewhere, and decided she had best pack, shouldn't she? Not that she had that much, but she was to be away from here after tonight.
She'd the foresight to have gotten some luggage during her shopping foray, and now had a decent valise as well as a carpetbag to fill. She had cleared things with Jack earlier and he was, indeed, heading into town with the druids from Pankhurst for the Solstice.
She'd thought about simply disappearing, Cinderella-like, after the ball, (only with the Prince this time),
but, no...that would be too much a slap in the face of her (...kidnapper, she was tempted to think...),of her warden, Uncle Daryl...
How does he do that? Em shook her head, eyeing her packing. How does abominable Uncle Daryl manage to make himself a sympathetic figure? Now somehow, she just couldn't leave Daryl without a proper and courteous farewell. (And he'd abducted her!) Honestly, her sense of manners and decency were a real pain in the bustle sometimes... But she couldn't just leave him, to brood, all alone...Em sighed, gazing at the ceiling briefly. Did he wrap his head up in hot towels ala Sydney Carton nights as well? He certainly made inroads on the cognac like unto that worthy.
Em stashed her shoes in the bottom of her valise, folding her recently purchased booty and transfered it within. She would return here this evening. Jack was staying the night at Connor and Bridgets', with their hearty blessings; and would come by to pick her up on the morrow, hopefully, then, with wicked Uncle Daryl's blessing as well.We would see.
From there, Manuel would take them to the ferry depot and thence to the east-bound train...and back home.
Just the two of them. Together. Alone.
Em's stomach felt cold, suddenly, despite the morning's hot coffee and cake.
. . . .
Afternoon already. All packed-up...except for her mandolin, leaning in the corner chair. She wouldn't have to worry about forgetting that, she'd take the mandolin first in a fire, then think about a coat, she was sure...
Em sat, gazing about her 'cell'. It hadn't been a bad stay...unconventional, and uncalled-for, and unconscionable, truly...but aside from not having had a say in her life here, it could have been worse.
She wondered, really...for a moment...supposing that Daryl hadn't kidnapped her, taken her here without her consent. What if, for instance, he had actually spoken with her, as if she'd been an adult and not altogether witless, and explained why he wished for her to accompany him to San Francisco. Daryl was not wholly without charm, when he wished.... Em was, or had been, a free agent. She just might have considered it.
And why, exactly, HAD he taken her here? To fill her head with talk of 11 ft. tall mummies, and tales of alchemy and lost Welsh princes and genetic tinkering of the gods, was it? The man was damnably obscure. Frankly, Em didn't see where it all could possibly lead... How would that tell Em where or who her 'enemies' were? She had to collar Uncle Daryl tonight and she would obtain some answers from him this time, even if she had to follow him to his attic and pry him from the rafters where she imagined he hung nights, batlike, upsidedown, wings folded about himself...stewing. Like Dracula. Yes, Emmeline had read Stoker's book. Loved it. Odd, that such a beast could also be viewed as a romantic figure. Again, much like Daryl...
She smiled to herself, imagining the whole scene, and feeling up to the challenge, she decided she would head downstairs and check on the proceedings in the kitchen...
Approaching, she could hear Madame Yvanna; rolling her Russian rrrr's (which actually sounded rather like 'llll's' to Em's ear, as in: 'Lllldrrraaahsshian').
She gave Rosa a run for her 'rrr's' indeed; the kitchen fairly rang with the rumble from the two of them...
'Llldrrrinse the oysters, under cold vater, yes? Good, Diego, dahlink, you can do that outside, I belief, yes?Speciba...now! Vat would you suggest, Rrrrroza, dahlink?
Manuel needn't chip the ice til chust before servink...
Shall ve haf Manuel verk on cracking zum nutz, yes?'
Rosa just smiled and nodded, at ease, mostly, since she had prepared nearly everything earlier. She'd been anticipating Madame commandeering her kitchen. It hadn't been the first time.
'Eeeemelina, dahhhhlink! Here you are, then!' Madame encircled Em in a Russian Bear hug, and held her away to scrutinize her. 'You slept vell last night? Good, beauty sleep, it is the best thing one can do! Ve vill go up later to get you into your gown, and I shall do your hair, then, yes?'
Em thought that would be well, and thanked Madame, who then turned about and began preparing her dates, '...to be szhplit, and zen vees za zoft goat cheeze inzide...yezz...
and zen we add ze nutz on top, like zat!' She popped one in her mouth. 'Mahvellous, dahlink!'
Em and Rosa helped Yvanna with the appetizers whilst Em gazed out the window, noting, to her surprise that the sun was again sinking rather lower than she had anticipated.
Daryl returned from outdoors, smelling of oysters and the sea, flushed with the cold, and headed to the sink, while Yvanna teased him about 'szhmelling like a feesh'; Daryl turned and endeavored to embrace her, fishy-hands and all, sending her screaming from the scene. It seems it was a good idea, their little dinner party here, Emmeline decided.
. . . .
'It will be wonderful, however you can fix it, I'm sure! I'm just thankful you are here and willing to help!' Em was, being rather out of practice regarding dressing for balls of late. During a lull in the kitchen commotion, she and Yvanna headed upstairs to Em's room to corral her coiffure into some semblance of elegance.
Madame nodded, and proceeded to work. 'You are lucky you haff zuch zhick hair...enuv to verk viz...' She began making small braids and pinning them. 'I zink a nize Rrrregency look for you...alvays verrry glazzy...' (Em assumed she meant 'classy'),
'Very zimple, yes? But nize...'
Em was tempted to nap, she felt so relaxed whenever someone had their hands in her hair. But, she was curious about Madame Yvanna and Daryl...'So, how long have you known don Diego?'
'Ah, letzee...' Em saw Madame's reflection in her mirror gaze out the window. 'Nearly two years now, I belief! His zhop you see, it is cloze to my own. He vould come by for lunches quite often. He has good taste in food, you know!' Madame smiled.
Em was learning. Obviously, Yvanna did not know that Em knew Diego rather less well than she. 'He just seems rather...a private sort. He doesn't have people over, at least, not when I've been here...'
'Da. Iz true.' Yvanna stuck more pins into Emmeline's coif. 'He iz not zo...zoziable, usually. But!' She paused, snatching up another lock to braid, 'He lufz za music!' She nodded. 'Oh, my...he does play rather vell, for an American...'( Em mentally rolled her eyes at this), 'Vell, you are a young country, ztill! Da, he vould play viz us eveninks ven ve haff muzizians gazhered zere for ze zinging and danzing! He is friendly enuv zen!'
Emmeline could possibly imagine such a scene. 'And does he dance?'
'Da, da...zum. You know...Sergei and Alexi would teach him LRrrussian danzes, or try to!' She shook her head. 'Nyet, he iz much better at ze playing...'
This wasn't what Emmeline had been wondering. 'But, does he dance, with partners?'
Yvanna leaned back and regarded Em in the mirror. 'You mean, does he danze viz ze vemmin?' She smiled slowly, returning to her hairdressing. 'Da. Zometimez...'
Cryptic and economical information, not very useful. Em wanted some juicy stuff.
'...But, actually, not much.' She turned her head this way and that, eyeing Em from all sides. 'It iz a zhame. A nize young man like zat....going to vaste!' She pursed her lips, musing.
'I zink you haff been good for him...get him outside of his
arctic zone...'
Em laughed softly. 'Arctic zone...it fits him...'
'Ummm, da...iz too bat. Vell, ve shall jeer him up tonight, yez? And, be zure to request some muzic! Zat alvays brightens up hiz mootz...' One more pin... 'Zere! Now, I'll return viz ze curlink iron and ve are nearly ton!' Yvanna bustled out and trotted downstairs.
Em gazed out her window, watching the sun lower ever closer to the hills...this was it; tonight she was about to change her life, perhaps forever.(Again). Jack had assured her that he wasn't going to keep her on a tight lead at all...but, actually, they hadn't really discussed their new...
relationship. They were sort of skating around all talk of it; not even naming it. It was, they were. They were: together. That's simple, isn't it?
Still...Em supposed there were things that needed sorting betwixt the two of them. Time for that later. All the time, in the world...
. . . .
'And then, I, very straight-faced, naturally, ask: "What pteradactyl? Where?"' Daryl was very much 'on' tonight.'Because, of course,one never hears them coming...'
Everyone was beside themselves, laughing.
'B-because the 'p' is silent!' Emmeline shrieked. She couldn't help herself.
Yvanna smacked her with her fan, but it didn't disguise the
tears of laughter in her own eyes. Rosa and Manuel eyed one another and began to giggle.
'Az ze only, 'Yvanna accented the 'only', 'Adult in ze crowt here tonight!'She solemnly nodded, 'I must object to zuch vulkarity! Rasputin vould blluhz...'
Daryl offered Madame some chilled champagne. And a bite of cheese-filled date. Viz nutz. Madame took the bait and bit.
'Madame...'Emmeline leaned upon her crossed hands, elbows on the table, which Madame took due note of, 'I am curious to know your views on the revolutions in the North Country...'Oh, dear.
Em was feeling the champagne and becoming political and pugnacious.
Madame was, if Em had taken half a moment to cogitate, connected with what would soon become known as emigres' blanc, White Russians, and,as such, not a fellow traveler. Fortunately, Daryl was more alert to such subtleties.
'We are here tonight,' he began, refilling everyone's glass with the remains of champagne, 'To celebrate a wonderful new year, and turning of season; thus all is spun and woven unto its' ultimate conclusion; a distillation of destinies desideratum...' and with that mish mash of malapropism, Daryl succesfully steered his solstice ship back to the matters at hand: celebration, sensation and inebriation...
Everyone clinked glasses together; already they had lost count of toasts proposed,and as another 'Sol Invictus!' rang out, the clock began to chime the hour of nine p.m.
'One hour until the ball!' Emmeline's face lit with a glow that was not all grape-induced. Yvanna noted this as well as Daryl's sudden solemnity and took charge.
'Come, ma chere'! Off ve go, zen-- Ve haf zum verk to do ztill!'
Madame took Em by the arm and marched her upstairs, as she waved a cheery farevell to all, and propelled by champagne and rum cake, the ladies made some last-minute ministrations to costume. 'Now. Ve tie ziss on, da?' Yvanna tied the black velvet choker with cameo about Emmeline's neck. 'It is a nize pieze...'
'It is from, don Diego...'Em touched it as it settled above her collarbone. She then held up Jack's Herkimer. 'Please?'
'Ah!' Madame regarded this...unique item. 'It iz...a very fine chain...' She diplomatically stated, as she fastened the necklace.
Em smiled, knowing how little regard crystals and other minor gemstones were given...why, quartz and garnets were all but ignored in the mad rush for gold in them thar hills... 'It is...of sentimental value. A certain type of crystal, only found in America--New York State.' Em proudly informed her friend. 'As well as opals, of course.'
'Of courze...'Madame scrutinized the necklace, then. 'It is, most novel.' She smiled bravely. 'You vill zhow efrevyvone, how wery singular and rare you are, my dahlink!' She patted her necklace. 'It iz a zign of convidence!' She nodded adamantly.
'Now. You vill engchant efryvone zere!'
'Oh! I nearly forgot!' Em leaned over her valise, rummaged about. 'Garnets! I have these earrings from Alice...'She held them to her ears. '...an old friend...' Em blinked, putting the earrings in. 'There. Something old, something new...' What had put that in her head? Anyway, the dark red garnets matched her gown perfectly.
Madame nodded. 'Iz good. And, iz time!'
Emmeline took a last look about. Well, onward, Em, avanti! As Alice would say.
It was Time, indeed.
. . . .
As the women rounded their way downstairs, they discerned the notes of Daryl's violin in the parlor, while Rosa and Manuel clapped in time...
Em caught Daryl's eye just as they were descending...he had taken note of her; she'd seen the look of recognition, pain, denial and finally compassion in his gaze. All rather odd, that. He wore it well, however.
'Rica...' he paused in his playing, holding bow and violin in either hand, arms out to embrace her. He held her briefly, then away. 'You look, like a princess...' Em blushed. What was all this? 'And, oh...that Jack, is indeed a lucky man...it would hardly do for me to give you away...but surely we are all invited, yes, filla?'
Em shot a panicked look Yvanna's way. Madame's eyebrows arched heavenward. No help there... Best brazen it out, then. Not long now, Em...'Ah, well, we haven't made plans, as such, quite yet, you see...' Daryl's smile switched flat, eyes narrowed. 'Nothing...definate.'
'I...see...'Daryl looked suddenly sober. Ready for action, in fact.
'Oh, Diego, dahhlink!' Oh, thank the goddess, Yvanna to the rescue! 'Vhy don't you dust off zat piano zen! I am not zo bat viz ze wiolin...' She nodded his way, and distracted him, for the time being. Daryl relinquished his violin, somewhat reluctantly, Em thought; moved to the piano bench, and began loosening up with arpeggios.
'I do so love the Russian composers, Yvanna...Rimsky-Korsakov, Rachmaninoff...'
...familiar notes gently insinuated themselves into the room then, filling audio space with magic from another Time...Em recognized Jack's favorite: Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini...ah.. Nikola again...Emmeline felt charged up suddenly; as if she were at a pivotal point on the universal stage, a galactic hub of entrances and exits, wherein were gathered all the major players of her most vivid lifetimes
...Time, she felt, stood still; for a beat...
She turned, and moved slowly toward Daryl, who sat, dark head bent,playing, swaying a bit, as Jack had done, oh, so much like Jack...it was uncanny. Em recalled the night she had caught him playing this song, at midnight, just before she and Alice had escaped through the looking glass, and left Jack and Aleister behind...
She stood to the side of Daryl and held her head at an angle...absorbing the thrum of the piano as Daryl held down the pedal...not shy about it. Em loved this song, because Jack did, and, it meant something to Daryl as well, Emmeline felt it.
Yvanna meanwhile, lent soft accompaniment and Em glanced at Rosa and Manuel, smiling together and sharing wine and companionship on this chill midwinter's night... Em felt a gentle fondness for her friends here, she realized, Daryl's oddities notwithstanding. At that moment, she genuinely wished them all well. Even Daryl.
Later, she might find cause to pause at that.
. . . . .
But, as Emmeline waved to everyone from the carriage as she and Manuel headed off into the night, her thoughts were centered only upon the future ahead of her. Just think, your last night in the city...after all these months of being practically held captive here, she told herself sternly. No need to spare sentiment for a despot such as Daryl. Focus, Em!
Across the Hill and round the other side the carriage soon took them to the Leek's mansion house, again lit with flaming torches lining the driveway...but O, so many more carriages here tonight. Manuel waited in the que, then helped Emmeline alight from on high, and nodded, as she turned and ascended the stairway to the portico, stepping carefully to avoid treading upon her new gown...
Emmeline recognized some familiar faces at the door, druids and friends of the Leeks' who took her warm woolen cape and showed her within...
Such a gathering, indeed! Em began to wonder if she would be able to find Jack in all of this...celebration. Everywhere men, women, musicians, even some folk in costume with masques, were dressed to impress and velveted shoulders pressed silken sleeves, jewels glittered neath the candelabras everywhere,ladies' elaborate hairstyles bedecked with rainbow hues of ribbons and beads, were nearly outshone by the men who sported rather more colorful dress than most; in deep green or dark blue velvet suits, odd cadet uniforms of foreign service in gold braid and epaulettes, men wearing tall boots like unto pirates, ears a-glint with gold, flashing eyes and smiles...as soft music wafted throughout the room, Em espied a string quartet near the balcony, and as she drifted in their direction, a stealthy gentleman with a tray of champagne happened at her side, and Em found herself with a glass...
Soon, Emmeline noted Connor and Bridget standing before the musicians and waving to the crowd. 'Ladies and Gentlemen! The Solstice approaches!' Cheers from all... Connor nodded. 'And, so without further ado, let us welcome the sun's return once more! Sol Invictus!' A hearty 'Sol Invictus!' answered the throng. 'Music, maestro!' called Connor, and he held his arms out to Bridget, who joined him on the dancefloor; all watched as they made the first swooping circle about the room. Then other couples began to join in...
A muffled cough sounded at Em's ear: 'Would you honor me with a dance, senorita?' It was Jack! At last...
Em smiled and set her glass down, holding her arms out to him.
'I see you left off the wig.'
'Indeed.' He swept her up in a waltz. 'And I see you are the most beauteous woman here tonight...' His gaze swept over her from head to toe, dark with brilliant lights in his eyes. 'I like your gown...'
'Thank you. It's new.' Enough information on that. 'I wore my favorite necklace,' Em hoped to distract him positively.
'I can guarantee it is the only one like it...'Jack spun her about, looking handsome in his black string tie and tails.
He'd let his hair grow out somewhat and he'd combed it back, curling over his ears and ending just below his collar. He looked like a classical pianist, she mused, in his black and white, like a keyboard... Briefly, the image of Daryl glowering from his piano whilst he played Rachmaninoff swam into Em's mind. But only briefly.
'What are you thinking?' Jack whispered in her ear, just wanting to get closer.
She looked up at him, 'Oh, I was just remembering hearing you play piano for the first time, back in Massachusetts...and you were playing Rachmaninoff.'
'Ah. Odd you would remember that.'
'I remember thinking as I watched you play, that the music was so haunting, full of longing...and it pained me to think of leaving you then.'
He looked at her, solemn. 'It did?'
Em nodded. 'I nearly changed my mind about leaving, even though I despised being abducted.' She glanced at him, '...I was fond of you, in spite of myself.'
'I hope you still are...' Jack held her closer. '...fond of me.' He kissed her hair. '...in spite of yourself...'
Emmeline smiled and allowed her eyes to close, and to simply feel herself in Jack's arms, being swayed to the music...imagining that their life together would be like this, always. Imagining so...for a moment.
Time and tunes played on, and Emmeline and Jack held the dance floor together, each taking a turn with their host and hostess; after which, begging off in search of air, the young couple sought each others' company on the side balcony awhile.
'Ah, quieter here,'Jack mused, leaning on the railing, regarding the torches burning along the garden paths below.
'And cooler...' Em grasped her hands about her shoulders, Jack, ever-ready, had his jacket about her smartly. 'Thank you, Jack. Let's move here, it's warmer...'Em found a cove just inside the balcony, shell-shaped in a cozy nave about a bench. They sat, Em put Jack's jacket about one of his shoulders and they shared it, leaning in close together.
Emmeline began to laugh softly. 'What is it?' Jack smiled down at her.
'Ohhh, you know...I did try to simply host a light and casual dinner party with just the household, and Madame Yvanna, I told you about her...' Jack nodded. 'And all went well...til dessert, and the end of the champagne...and, well...it seems...'Em stole a glance up at Jack briefly, '...that is, I got the impression from Daryl that, he, ah, rather assumed...'
Em paused...
'...Yes?' Jack asked.
'Oh...it was rather amusing really...Daryl thought that we were...to be married, soon...'
'He did?' Jack's eyebrows went up. 'What did he say?'
Em clutched Jack's jacket, scrunching up close to him. 'Oh, things like, 'Well, I don't suppose I'll be the one giving you away,' he said, then he added, 'I do hope you will be inviting us all, filla!'...he calls me 'filla', at times...it means 'daughter'.'
Jack was gobsmacked. 'Yes, I know what it means...' This was news...in a way, it was well that Daryl was taking him seriously...that he thought of their relationship as something worthy of respect... It gave him an odd feeling, rather as though he, himself, wasn't taking it seriously enough. But Daryl was. Jack did not care for that feeling.
'We...could always have Yeats give you away...and yes, of course, everyone is invited...' Jack leaned over and spoke low in her ear.
Em's eyes went wide. Oh, she hadn't expected that! She'd only wished to prepare Jack for a glowering, sullen, perhaps combative Daryl tomorrow when he came to claim her. So to speak.
She leaned away then, staring at him. 'Jack. What are you saying?' '
'Well, Emmeline...no reason we couldn't...do whatever we wish.
It's your call, every bit of it. But, just for the record,' Jack took her hand, 'I couldn't be happier or want anything more on earth, than to hear you consent to be my bride...' He looked frankly into her eyes.
Oh, my.
Emmeline flushed. She was suddenly not at all cold. But, as dear as Jack was to her, she simply panicked. 'Jack, I, I...hadn't anticipated this, at all!'
Oh, please, let's just return to the easy comraderie we had earlier, Em thought desperately...
He looked down. 'Of course, Em...I know that. But,' he glanced up from under his fallen forelock, 'I still had to let you know how I feel.' He kissed her hand. 'There's no pressure, ever, Em. Not from me, or Daryl. We can sort him later...' Jack smiled then. Emmeline bit her lip. Jack 'ummm'd' and eyed her lips, bending low, and kissed her. 'No pressure...' he whispered again.
'Alright, Jack...let's do just as we wish, then...not what others would like us to do!' Em blinked at him, challenging.
Jack took her in his arms. 'Right now, can you guess what it is I would wish to do?'He smiled, sideways.
'Hmmm...let me see...' Em lowered her lashes and bent close, forgetting they were not quite in their own universe, as yet; and putting heads together, they did as they wished...
. . . .
Back at Nob Hill House, the kitchen was alight with activity, but not the towel-popping sort, for once.
Daryl and Yvanna had given Rosa the evening off whilst they cleared the dishes. As Manuel was having, in between driving duty, his own wee celebration downstairs at the Leek's, it was only fair to let Rosa put her feet up awhile as well.
Daryl had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was elbow-deep in suds, and if scowls could scour, the pans would sparkle with a glance. 'Jack, you understand, is family. And, as head of what is left of our family now, I simply feel that he should be doing the right thing by Emmelina, whom I care for as a daughter...!'
Yvanna rolled her heavily kohled eyes heavenward as she dried a pan distractedly. 'Da, da...but my dahlink Diego...you are not taking into conzideration von wery important zing! Mu-ey Eem-por-tan-tay!' Madame studied her reflection in the pan before stowing it.
'Yes, and what is that, my dear Yvanna...' Daryl plotzed a large iron skillet before her. 'Don't dry it too well. I should add a little oil...'
'I know vot to do viz ze iron panz! I haff a restauran' mon cher!' Madame huffed. 'But you! You do not know vimmen! Zat, zat iz ze important zing you forget so conweniently, nyet? --Emmelina! Zhe is callink all ze zhotz in ziss, O, si, si, mon ami!' Madame nodded, lightly dusting the pan with her tea towel. 'As iv your Chack haz anyzing to zay about anyzing...'
She verged on another huff, but thought she'd save it for later.
Daryl scrubbed something fiercely to within an inch of it's life down there below the suds...he knew she was right. He always wanted to fault Jack somehow. It made up for never being around...he smiled lopsidedly at his cockeyed logic. 'You are right, as always, my pearl...' he bussed her one on the cheek, easily, as Yvanna was nearly his height.
'Of courze...'she agreed. 'I am tired already, Diego. Lezzus do the rest manana...let us plotz ourselfs...come my little onion...' She took him by the arm, handed him the towel. Which he finally agreed to take and dried off, taking her arm and conducting her to the parlor.
'Do take a well-deserved break, my dear dish dryer...cognac?' he asked, taking two snifters before she answered. Daryl splashed afew drops in each and sat beside Yvanna on the sofa.
'To us. To our surviving another year!' Daryl clinked her glass.
'To us. Again! And to the return of the zun...ah, I did not leave St. Petersburg to come to California and freeze here in ze dark!' Yvanna flashed a wide smile.
The two friends, (and former lovers), sat companionably together awhile, sighing, sipping brandy. Yvanna leaned back, putting her feet in Daryl's lap. He knew what to do...
'Ah, you haf a good touch! Not too rough...'Yvanna rested her head on the pillows and relaxed for a change. 'You must let these two adults decide how to liv zier own lives, si, Diego?
Emmeline would like to have your blezzink. And so vould Chack. Do not divide your house...'
'Again, you are so very wise, dear Yvanna. And you have a good touch, too.' Daryl leaned back, kicked off his boots, and hauled his big feet up beside Yvanna, wiggling his toes hopefully.
Yvanna smiled and took his feet in her lap as well, and distractedly began to massage here and there. 'Zoooo...'she began, nodding toward the mantlepiece, 'Ven did you haf zis done?'
Daryl held her big toe as he took his brandy and drank. 'Awhile back. It's from a sketch I did...of Her. Anara. I actually made several, after every...encounter. I have one of Anara with Thelene. I had the impression that Thelene does not like me. Or Jack, either...' he smiled wryly, as he set his glass upon the carpet, reached under the sofa, and brought forth a sketchbook from underneath. Daryl leafed through the pages until he came to a rendering in dark soft pencil, of a tall, dark-haired woman with her hair piled up grecian-style, beautiful, but the steel within her was evident. This lady would not suffer fools gladly...
Next to her was a more petite female, younger, also with the upswept hair style, although hers was of a crimson hue; and she had a searching gaze of greenish-blue. The resemblance to Emmeline was obvious. But, there was much about her that was very different, and that is what shone through in the oil portrait that now hung over the fireplace. Her eyes were wider, yet there was something haunting in them, as if she was ever seeking something just beyond her reach...her face also evinced a fine compassion that seemed far beyond her years; in this, she was most unlike Emmeline in appearance, who seemed much younger, and at the same time, Em's character showed a more guarded aspect.
Daryl handed Yvanna the sketch.
'Ah...I see.' She looked at the portrait and back to the drawing.
'It is wery like your sketch, da...but, I can certainly tell, that neither this drawing or the painting is Emmelina...'
'I wonder what she, or Jack, would think...' Daryl mused, rubbing Yvanna's feet with both hands. 'Perhaps it would be best if they do not see it...but! I wanted it to be done, and placed here, before Emmelina left...' he looked down, distracted, '...we still have some things to discuss.'
'Vell, she vill be back here tonight, at zum time. You can both haff a nize chat zen...' Yvanna had it all sorted. 'Zo...I am staying the night here, da?' she asked, her eyes becoming heavy already.
'Da. You are.' Daryl took his pad and stashed it back under the sofa. 'And you are velcome to varm my bed for me first, if you like...'
'I vould like.'
. . . .
The solstice was approaching. Dancers spun round the ballroom and mirrored the night stars which turned in the heavens...
Em and Jack were rousted out of their trysting place, (at least, they thought, once they were together back home, they could have a little space for themselves at last!), and called back to the dance...
Bridget and Connor seemed to favor waltzes mostly, and their tastes ranged wildly; Em seemed to even detect some gypsyish music especially in the Hungarian dances...
'One last dance before midnight, and at the Solstice, the goddess Gaia turns her face to the sun once again! Let us celebrate! Come, all, into the dance! None will be spared!' Connor and Bridget, seemingly tireless, took to the floor once again.
'One last dance, senorita?' Jack smiled, offering his arm to Emmelina.
'One more, gracias, senor!' Em answered, 'But, I will be ready to take that pumpkin coach home to bed after the last chimes of midnight have struck! It has been a long day, my dear...'
Jack leaned into her hair and inhaled her scent, 'Not long now, luv, and we'll be on our own time...no more stealing minutes here and there...Oh, Em...I've waited long for this!' He smiled, taking her by her slim waist with one hand.
'I am anxious as well, dahlink!' Em smiled at her 'Yvanna-ism', 'This has been a wonderful evening though! I can't think of a better way to bid the city adieu, and begin our new life together!' Em took his hand and they swung onto the floor and into the dance...
'Ah, I love this music!' Em tossed her head and drank in it's haunting notes. 'It seems so free, and yet...ah, Jack!'
'...Yes,'Jack smiled. 'Quite a night for Rachmaninoff!'
'Yes!...and Paganini...' Em looked at him, as they spun around with the other couples. 'What is it about this melody...it's so full of longing, somehow...which variation is this...?'
' ...It's Variation XVIII...'Jack looked down at Emmeline, his brows knotted. He pulled her closer to him as they turned. 'Don't let me go, Em.' His mood turned suddenly serious. She stared wondering, up at him, smiled to reassure him.
As the dance and dancers gave homage to the turn of the seasons, Jack and Emmeline spun around the checkered ballroom floor;black and white, Em noted to herself...where had she heard that? Ah, from Manuel, carver of the Knight.
Polarities, dualitease...
Em could hear the clock beginning to strike, as the music slowly wound down, to midnight...then...
As the music seemed to slowly fade into the background, she noticed Jack seemed to be fading as well...! Things were strangely quiet, as though a glass bell had suddenly come over her, trapping her. Jack was...there, and then not there! Why? What was happening?
She looked about, gaze sharp. All was befogged...as the music became more muffled...they turned, the room swirled about her, and she seemed to be seeing it through a lense suddenly, as though the room, or she, was retreating, Jack moving farther away from her; she seemed to be hearing loud booming sounds...somewhere behind the dim music...she tried to hold on...
'...Jack....?'
. . . .
Smoke, or was it fog? Smoke.Couldn't see, in the dark...all the haze... She could smell burning though...and hear what sounded like cannon fire close by.
Zzzzzzewwwwttt! Something exploded next to her, much too close; she was thrown back and heard, and saw, popping all around her,bullets pocking the dust.
'...Josephinaaaa! JOSEPHINA....!!!' Em turned about at the sound of her/blood sister's name.
Thunder of hooves. Out of the smoke, a man, a wide hat covering his forehead, and a large bandana over his nose and chin, bending low over his horse, slowed next to Emmelina, scooped her up behind him, and away they tore, out of the smoke and explosions, and the bursts of gunfire, lighting up the night.
This feels like Sonora...
Emmelina holds onto a man on a horse. They're riding amongst the scrub brush lining the low hills, dodging the skirmish. It seems almost familiar...until she looks down at herself, still wearing a scarlet ballgown. That brings her back to where she should be. Where she was.
At the Solstice Ball. In San Francisco. With Jack.
Emmelina felt a chill then. She'd never get used to these...
abductions.
Surely it could only be that.
They came to a low outcropping and the man pulled his horse up, gazing out over the battle below. He turned his head sideways, not really looking at her.
He lowered his kerchief, licked his lips, offered Em his canteen.
She took it, with a shaking hand.
Managed a drink, returned it.
The man took a long slug. Capped it. Flicked her a glance.
A familiar voice said,
'This is what I tried to save you from. Believe it or not.
I tried to get you out of Mexico, and home, to Jack. So that this, may never happen.
...But it did. I'm sorry.'
Her abductor turned about in the saddle, and they beheld each other at last, face to face. She might have known...
--Daryl.
. . . .
Variation 18: listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4E7XHOotTX0
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