The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5) - Page 37

13

LI

It wasthe end of June by the time I arrived in Paris. My journey had been arduous and took many weeks. Because I wasn’t certain exactly how long it would be until I arrived in Paris, I’d given Fiona a rough estimate. When I’d arrived in port, I sent a telegram to her in Paris.

Arrived in Normandy. Stop. Will arrive tomorrow on the four o’clock train. Stop

When the train pulled into the station in Paris, I didn’t know what to expect. Would Fiona be there to greet me? Perhaps she’d changed her mind by now, realizing she didn’t need me or any chaperone? Had I interfered in her life when I wasn’t wanted? During the weeks it had taken for me to arrive in Europe, I’d had a lot of time to think. Too much time. I’d gone over the different scenarios over and over again. Would I find Fiona in love with this James West? Would she have successfully thwarted the advances of Mr. Basset? What of these new friends she’d met?

With my trunk in hand, I looked up and down the platform. No Fiona. Disappointment swelled in my stomach. I would have to get to her apartment somehow, and I was in no mood to figure out yet another mode of transportation. Then I heard my name. I turned in the direction of the voice. Fiona waved with both hands and then darted toward me. Wearing a white summer dress and a straw hat with a short yellow feather, she seemed smaller than at home. She hurled herself into my arms, almost knocking me over, despite her tiny frame. I had no choice but to drop my valise and hug her in return. She smelled of flowers and honey. The feather on her hat tickled my chin.

“I’m so very glad to see you.” Her small chest heaved as she took in a deep breath. “I’ve missed you more than I can say. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.” Too soon, she pulled away to look up at me.

“You’ve not caused me any trouble,” I said. “I should have come with you in the first place. It was a stupid error not to. Grandmother told me as much.”

“Did she make you come?” The space between her brows wrinkled.

“No, no. I meant only that she gave me her blessing to come.”

“She won’t mind being back at the big house? I feel terrible for dragging you here.”

“Honestly, I think she prefers her old room at the house. She misses the camaraderie with the other staff, especially Lizzie. Grandmother might not be the type to retire.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that. You look wonderful but tired.” She cocked her head to the right, looking at me with the same expression she’d had as a child when given a treat by Lizzie, almost rapturous in her delight. She still looked at me with eyes filled with love. Months away had not changed that. Why did it make me giddy to see? I was supposed to be stronger and better than this. “Was the journey terrible?” Fiona asked.

“Long,” I said, smiling down at her. “But worth it to see you.” I’d keep the trials of my travels to myself.

“I’ve been fretting over it, wishing I hadn’t told you about Mr. Basset.”

“Why?”

“It was selfish of me. I’m perfectly fine.” That silly feather in her hat fluttered, as if in agreement with her assessment of herself. “When I wrote to you, I was low. I shouldn’t have burdened you. I was homesick, and I missed all of you so very much. I’m a terribly weak person.”

“You’re not. You’ve been here in a strange city all alone. One of us should have come with you. Now I’m here and won’t let anything happen to you from here on out.”

“Look at you, here now standing before me.” She took both my hands, the silky texture of her gloves soft against my skin. “Did you bring your violin?”

“Yes, it’s in my case.”

“The piano isn’t as good as our one at home, but it’s not bad.” Fiona drew in a breath as if to tell me more but seemed to change her mind. “Enough about music. You must be exhausted, and we have loads of time to discuss all that. James is waiting outside for us. We thought about a cab but decided the subway was better. He’s on a strict allowance, and I’ve been helping him a bit by feeding him. I’d rather do that than take a taxi.”

“You’ve been giving him money?” A bell like the one that rang on Sundays clanged between my ears. What had we done, sending compassionate Fiona over here alone? This was my fault. I was here now. I would fix all of it.

“Not money, but taking him to dinner or feeding him at home. The poor dear needs food to think. He’s hoping to find more clients and can’t very well do that with an empty stomach, can he? We want to take you to dinner later, but we’ll go back to the apartment first. You can have a bath and even a nap if you need one. I cannot wait to show you Paris.”

James was indeed waiting outside for us. If not for Fiona, I might have been tempted to curse at the sight of him. Even as a man, I could see the appeal of his high cheekbones, full mouth, and lively eyes. Tall, too. Skin as lily white as Fiona’s. I could already see her walking down the aisle of a church with him, wearing an heirloom ring passed down from James’s relatives. Poor as church mice, perhaps, but with closets full of jewels and clothes.

My heart thudded. What if she never returned to Emerson Pass?

She introduced us, beaming and completely oblivious to my angst. “This is James West. And this is Li Wu.”

We shook hands. His was a firm handshake but there were no calluses, no sign of a man who knew how to work or build anything. I flashed upon the boys at home, how we’d all helped one another build our cottages. We’d sweated and made calluses and been useful to one another. But this man? He was raised in some drafty, cold castle with nothing to show for it.

I hated him.

Why had it been necessary for him to come to pick me up? He didn’t appear to have a car. Was he simply here to escort us into a cab or subway? We could do that by ourselves, thank you very much.

Was Fiona in love with him?

She chirped away in her melodic voice. “James has been such a good friend to me here. I don’t know what I would have done without him these first few months. He comes with a bevy of friends, all characters. Did I write to you about them? You wouldn’t believe all the things I’ve learned about since I’ve been here. I’m quite scandalized and may never see the world the same way again.”

“Splendid,” I said, without conviction. “I look forward to hearing all about it.” I really hoped she hadn’t learned about the contours of James’s lips. They’re nice and full, I thought, begrudgingly. God, if they’d kissed already I really might not make it through the rest of my time here. I’d jump into the Seine and end it all, dying for love or lack thereof. I chased away those thoughts and took another look at dapper James.

That thick hair of his was remarkable in color and texture—light brown with coppery tones. The kind of hair women liked. Or, I guessed they did. I didn’t know about any women but Fiona. I knew Fiona almost as well as I knew myself. Given everything, she was the only woman I would ever know. I’d have to stand aside and watch her fall in love and marry, probably a man like James if not him exactly.

She’d not needed me to come. I knew it the moment I walked off the train. But I was here now. I had to get my jealousy under control. Remember how you love her, I said to myself. By letting her go, you give her what she needs.

“Li, what do you feel like eating? There’s every kind of food you can imagine here,” Fiona said. “All of it delicious. Except for the chewy snails and the raw meat. Those two things I cannot stomach. James loves them, though. Don’t you, darling James?”

Darling James.How about dead James.

My fists clenched. With force, I separated my fingers and folded my hands in my lap, as if I hadn’t been entertaining murderous thoughts.

We walked to the underground subway entrance. “It’ll take us all the way to our district,” Fiona said. “So quickly. You won’t believe it. You’ll hardly blink and there you are. It’s perfectly perfect.”

“Outstanding.” My face could have been carved from stone just then, as it was impossible to smile. Or perhaps it was ceramic, which would crack if I lifted the corners of my mouth?

We traveled down a considerable number of stairs until we arrived at our underground stop.

“This is the Métro,” Fiona said. “It runs all over Paris. Some tracks are underground and some above.”

How had they made this train that ran underground?

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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