While his mortal lover slept, the curious vampire Christian Du Mauré wandered her boudoir admiring the numerous books cast in a warm by the roaring fire He could not leave her and thought to occupy himself amongst her books. In reaching for one, a small sheet of paper slipped out. The adroit vampire grabbed it in mid-air, stuffing it back into the book as the words, My dearest Josette, caught his attention.
This is not my handwriting and Michel would never, ever write a love letter. Not his style. Taking a seat he unfolded the letter and read...
14 April 1788
My dearest Josette,
When can I see you again? I cannot stop thinking of you lying with me as the afternoon sun caressed our bodies. You are a masterpiece, the most exquisite woman I have ever known, and all I want to do is hold you. - sun swept, warm kisses and the trembling of your body under mine.
I know you are a married woman and your life, as you put it, is ‘complicated to say the least’ but I will meet you anytime, anywhere. Since I live alone I am at your whim to do with as you will. Come to me when you can, day or night, as I will welcome you with open arms and a warm bed.
Je vous aime,
Gabriel? His mind raced…definitely not a vampire…..must be an aristocrat…where did they meet? The letter was brief, implying this had not been the first time she had gone to this Gabriel and yet when would she have the time?
During the day when you are dead, you fool.
He glanced over to the young beauty, sleeping deeply, curled up under a mound of cotton quilts, her breathing almost imperceptible.
Am I not enough for her? Are we not enough for her?
He and Michel were sharing her, though he preferred not to think about her relationship with his best friend. That he could deny, but why did this bother him so?
Because he is mortal and you cannot compete with a living, breathing man who can walk with her in the sunlight, be a part of her social circle….give her children. He absently opened the book to realize it was one of her many journals. Perhaps there was more in here…..
16 April 1788
Dare I send a note to my dear Gabriel?
He asked so few questions and did not question why I needed to meet him in the daylight hours. I explained that it may seem strange, but I am a married woman and I must be incredibly discreet. He understands that my husband, Luc, demands my utmost skill in running a home and when he comes home at night he wants me there.
I think he understands that my life is complicated. I feel like a chatelaine, quite honestly, though I don’t live in a castle!
His apartment on the Rue Saint-Honoré is gorgeous and although it is a short carriage ride, I feel very far away from the prying eyes of my household.
I would love to meet him for dinner one evening but Christian and Michel are ever present. Not that Michel would care but Christian would never forgive me. He feels I belong to him, body and soul, and perhaps he is right. I do love him but Gabriel is hard to resist.
He calls me exquisite and claims that my naked body is heaven on earth. He is poetic, which moves me and the memory of his kisses takes my breath away. How will I manage yet another lover?
Christian flipped through her diary but there was little else about the mysterious Gabriel. Clearly their romance was current and his first impulse was to wake her and demand to know the truth, but he knew the truth. He would bide his time and though he could not follow her, he had other mortals at his command who would do his bidding. Once he found the lair of this poetic imbecile, he would take care of him as only he could and his mortal lover would be none the wiser.
1 September 1788
Gabriel has chosen to leave Paris! How could he not tell me? Why would he do such a thing? The maid handed me a letter and almost shut the door in my face. He had urgent business in Toulouse and had to leave. He thanked me for our affair but said he would not be returning and please do not write nor come by ever again. This seemed odd to me especially since we had been together not two days before and I would think he would have mentioned something to me then, unless he did not want to hurt me? I feel like a scrap of garbage being cast aside by a coward who did not have the courage to face me and yet, I will miss his soft touch...