The Viscount – Chapter Nineteen

Before I start this week’s chapter, let me recap my 2-weeks of “plot-tightening.” On a practical level, I’ve changed Camille’s new friend “Eléonore” to Eloise to avoid confusion with the Viscount’s elder sister. And the mysterious “Jean” who keeps meeting the other guy on the Seine to talk is the same “James” that is selling drugs to Camille. I decided to simply make him Jean all around to avoid confusion.

On a broader level, it is helping me immensely to post my chapters on this blog for two reasons: a) the regular upkeep of my blog is important to me, and it’s hard to do that while writing a novel, and b) it gives me accountability. I’m forced to keep going, even when it’s hard or I get worn out. It forces me to finish, and I really need a victory in the fiction department to convince myself that I can really do it.

However, I know it doesn’t make for pristine writing. My husband was helping me with the trickier parts of the plot, and he suffered through about 6 chapters before saying that he can tell it’s a rough draft. (My husband is a huge support to me, so he has enough credit to say something like this). And when reading the Top Ten Writing Mistakes Editors See Every Day, I had to acknowledge a few hits. There is much polishing to be done, and you, Dear Readers, are not getting my best work in these chapters. But thank you for your graciousness in reading anyway.

Alright. Now onwards.

THE VISCOUNT OF MAISONS LAFFITTE

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Camille spotted Eloise through the glass doors and raced outside after her. “Eloise, hi!”

She turned and faced him calmly, but with a pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t look unhappy to see him. “Hi Camille.” When he just stared at her without speaking, her smile grew broader and her eyes twinkled. “Did you want to see me?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, uh. I was, uh wondering how late you stayed at that party.”

“Oh, so you remember that, do you? I wasn’t sure you had any memory of meeting me there because by the time I came back downstairs, you were sitting on the steps passed out.”

“Yeah. Someone woke me up before Randy’s parents came home, and everyone was gone by that time. But to tell you the truth, I don’t know why I passed out. It’s the second time it’s happened to me after only drinking a little bit. And –” he added conscientiously, “after smoking some pot.”

“Hm.” She looked concerned. “Did you ever think that maybe someone was slipping something into your drink? Do you know anyone who would do that on purpose? You know,” she added, “since it happened twice?”

A teacher, leading a line of elementary students towards the gate, passed them at that moment, crunching over the pebbles in the courtyard, and instructing them to keep to their line of two-by-two. “Hey Eloise,” a tall, lanky boy called out to her at the same time, causing her to break off and smile at him. “Do you want me to walk over to class with you?” he proposed, indicating the outlying buildings across the street.

“Hey Justin. No thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. “I want to finish talking to Camille, and it’s still early.” Justin shrugged and loped off, and Camille felt a flash of gratitude towards her.

When they were alone again, she turned her attention back to him. “So, we were saying …?”

“You were asking if someone could have slipped something in my drink, but I can’t really see why anyone would do that.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “To humiliate you? To steal from you?” She saw him flinch. “Did someone steal from you? I hope you weren’t carrying anything valuable.”

“No, no, it was nothing,” he replied, hiding from her the realization that for the second time, the money he had collected for drugs had been taken from him while he was passed out at a party. For the past week, he had been racking his brains trying to figure out what he was going to tell Jean about not having his money, and he hadn’t given much thought as to how odd it was that he should have been robbed twice.

“… and so, because of that, I never drink or eat anything at parties. Unfortunately I have a friend who was raped after losing consciousness, and she’d only had one drink.”

Camille snapped to attention. “Did she report it?”

“She did. The police are looking into it. But I wouldn’t think they would target a guy, which is what makes me think that they either thought to steal from you, or …” she took an involuntary step towards him, “humiliate you. I’m sorry it happened,” she added quickly.

Camille didn’t feel embarrassed for having been a target, he felt mad. And when he didn’t respond right away, Eloise spoke up again with obvious reticence. “I know you’re friends with Jerôme, but I can’t help but think he goes with a bad bunch.”

“We’re not friends,” Camille said firmly. “And he doesn’t go with a bad bunch. He leads it.”

“Oh!” Eloise looked at him with respect. “Okay, so you know your own mind then. That’s good.”

“Not as well as I should. I can’t believe some of the situations I’ve gotten myself into,” he said with uncharacteristic candor. “But that’s going to change.”

“Well, if you need a friend – ” She said this with a smile and pulled her bag on her shoulder, as she started to walk away.

“Eloise,” he called out. She looked back at him. “I just didn’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. You know – after what you saw at the party.”

“I don’t think I do,” she replied serenely.

* * *

“Mom,” Thomas had whispered. It had been the first word he spoke, and that was three days before her mother arrived. In those three days, he had improved by leaps and bounds, establishing set periods of sleep and wake. He had not been talkative, but he had been able to answer every simple question they had asked him, except for what had happened the days leading up to the accident. And he had been able to communicate his desire to drink some water almost right away. It was almost more than Chastity could hope for.

Marc accompanied her to pick her mother up at the airport, which was not something she had planned on. But her old car broke down on the way to stock up for her mom’s visit at the grocery store, and she didn’t want to bear the expense of a taxi. “I will stay out of your way,” Marc had said as he drove. “I know you need lots of private time with your mom. It’s going to be so good for you to have her here.”

She looked at him gratefully, surprised. “That’s really sweet of you. I think it will be good – for both Thomas and me to have her there.” After a moment’s silence, she added, “I’m sorry you don’t have this. I wish you still had your relationship with your parents.”

Marc’s replied with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She looked at his profile expectantly, and he continued dramatically. “My mother made contact with me.”

Chastity gasped. “You’re kidding me! That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Marc continued. “Apparently she heard through some mutual friends that I was showing interest in my son and that pleased her enough to forget some of her anger. She’s hoping to be able to meet Thomas.”

“Oh!” Chastity was caught off-guard. “Okay, well, it’s not possible right now, obviously.”

“You don’t think she could come visit him in the hospital and bring him a gift?” Marc asked innocently.

“No!” was the indignant retort. “He just woke up from a coma and needs as little stimuli as possible!” She looked out the window to her right, hiding the red spot on each of her cheeks.

“Yes, but your mother is coming to see him,” he argued back.

“Thomas already knows my mother. She is not a stranger. So please forget the idea. It’s not going to work.”

“I’m sorry for asking,” replied Marc petulantly.

A silence fell over them, and she sighed inwardly. Here were some signs of his old self surfacing – the things that made her more and more certain their relationship could not work out. They began to see billboards for the airport, and her spirits lifted at the thought of seeing her mother again. That’s when Marc broached the subject again in a kinder tone. “Do you think that it might be possible at least for you to come and meet my mother in Paris? Perhaps after your mom has been here for awhile and is familiar with everything, she could stay with Thomas while you come with me. I really think the whole reason my parents are interested in a reconciliation is because of you and Thomas.”

Chastity struggled internally. But when he added, “It would really mean a lot to me,” her compassion won over. “Of course, Marc. Anything I can do to help restore your relationship with your parents.”

They didn’t say much else before arriving at the circular airport and driving down the ramps that would lead to the parking garage. When they reached Arrivals, she could see her mother courageously pulling her heavy suitcase off the conveyor belt through the glass walls, but she wasn’t able to catch her attention. When she finally exited Customs, Chastity threw herself in her mother’s arms, and Marc had the decency to stay back against the wall.

If her mom felt any surprise at being picked by Marc, she covered it up graciously. “Well Marc,” she said placidly. “You look well. I’m glad to see that your life has taken a turn for the better.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied politely. “May I push the cart?”

All that had been a week ago, and true to his word, he had held back from visiting the hospital so they could have their time together. Now Chastity, her mom, and Thomas had formed a happy ritual of talking, playing, eating and watching TV each day in his room. And this was the picture they presented when the Viscount finally came to visit. Chastity was sitting on one side of Thomas’ bed, and her mother on the other, with her back to him. They were playing Candyland – a juvenile game that was chosen on purpose so that it wouldn’t tax Thomas too much, though they could see that he was slightly bored.

“Two orange squares, Grandma, so you have to go there.” He started to point at the spot on the board, but flinched in pain, and lay back against the pillows gently. The board was propped up on the table that spun over the bed.

“Oh yes, Tommy, you’re right,” his grandmother replied, meekly. Her plan to dumb the game down a bit was not working in the way she had hoped. Rather than encouraging her grandson with how much he did know, it seemed to frustrate him.

“Mr de Chabot!” Chastity exclaimed, jumping up. “We haven’t seen you in awhile.” She walked over to him, her eyes alight.

“Charles,” he reminded her with a smile. “I am very sorry for it. I had to turn Thomas’ case back over to Docteur Toussaint while I took care of some personal things. Are he and Docteur Okonkwo taking good care of you?”

“They are both great. And, there’s my … I’d like to present my mother,” she said turning towards her mom, who had just stood up at Thomas’ bedside.

“It’s a pleasure,” the Viscount took two steps forward and shook her mother’s hand. His movements were easy and graceful and Chastity’s mother found herself looking up into a boyish face with warm, brown eyes. The Viscount then moved over to the bed. “Hi Thomas,” he said, addressing his young patient. “How are you feeling?”

Thomas still looked belligerent, but his expression was doubtful when he answered. “Sometimes I get mad. I’m not used to feeling mad a lot of the time.”

The Viscount sat down on the bed next to him and took his hand. “That, I’m afraid, is very normal after a brain injury. Some of your anger is happening because the part of your brain that usually keeps you in a good mood was hurt, and so you get mad more often. And you also feel frustrated at not being able to do what you are used to doing. Does that make sense?”

Thomas looked down, and then yawned. He didn’t answer, and just picked at the blanket with his fingers. “I’m tired,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Here, let’s lower the bed,” the Viscount said quietly. When he finished, he gestured to Chastity to follow him out to the hallway. She walked behind him, but her mother chose to remain by the bedside.

“I’m getting the updates from Christian – Docteur Okonkwo – so I’m following his progress from the medical end, but I’m curious. Does he act like himself when he’s awake?”

“In some ways, very much so,” answered Chastity earnestly. “He is just as sharp as ever. But he gets frustrated much more easily. He used to be such an easy-going kid, so this is a pretty big change for him.”

The Viscount nodded, and leaned against the doorframe. He was wearing a cable-knit sweater with a V-neck under his winter coat, and Chastity was struck by how much she wanted to lean against him at that moment. She mentally shook herself.”

“… this can change, actually,” he was saying. “There is no guarantee that this is his new personality. It could be part of the healing process. But I have to say that both Docteur Toussaint and I are encouraged by his cognitive progress. His is the best we could possibly hope for.”

“That is so good to hear.” Chastity broke out into a smile, and he noticed how much younger it made her look. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled widely.

He pulled his eyes off Chastity’s face and stood upright again, glancing at her mother. “I was, uh,  wondering if you and your mother would like to come to an art gallery opening this Friday? It’s a painter from New York, actually, so your mother might have heard of him.”

“Mom?” she called, beckoning her mother over, and then indicated for the Viscount to continue. He addressed the tall, older woman in front of him.

“Have you heard of a New York painter called Randall Mooers?” Chastity’s mom shook her head. “Well, we’re having an opening at the art gallery featuring his work. I thought it might be fun for you to visit the museum if you’re ready for a night out.”

“Well that sounds nice.” She turned to her daughter. “We don’t leave the hospital til about 7:30 or so, right?”

“That’s right,” her daughter confirmed, unsuccessfully trying to hide her eagerness. “So we could do that after Tommy goes to sleep, couldn’t we?”

“It doesn’t start until 8:00,” offered the Viscount.

“Thank you very much for the invitation,” her mom nodded. “We’d love to come.”

“It’s very sweet of you to think of us,” Chastity added.

After the Viscount’s short visit, Chastity lifted her arms up in a stretch, and rolled onto the balls of her feet. Then she dropped her head down and swung her hair back and forth. As she stood back up and twisted from side to side, her mother watched her keenly. “So he’s another one of Tommy’s doctors?” she asked casually.

“Mm hmm.” Chastity walked over to the windowsill and fiddled with the toys there, stacking the books and putting the pieces to a game in a more orderly fashion. “He was the first doctor who treated him, but he’s on sabbatical so he handed the case back to Dr Toussaint.”

“And it’s the strangest thing,” she said, turning around swiftly. “He owns the château at Maisons Laffitte and I teach his son English at the school.”

“What a coincidence,” her mom said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, he seems like a nice man.”

“Oh!” Chastity shrugged one shoulder. “He is nice – at least here in the hospital. But honestly it came as a surprise to me. When I met him at the school to talk about his son, I never could have imagined him being this warm. Believe me, his expression is not always that friendly.” Restless, she straightened the blanket over her son, and then sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

“Hm!” her mother replied enigmatically, picking up her Sudoku puzzle and pencil. When her daughter turned to look out the window, the older woman allowed herself a small smile.

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