Gastien Pt 1 (37 page)

He rubbed his temples. “Véronique, I am afraid that we must stop early today. I have a terrible headache. I am tired of sparring with you. I must ask you to leave. Please arrive at the same time in the morning. I am sorry,” Gastien lied. He simply needed her out of his sight.

She opened her mouth to retort, but noticed that Gastien did look quite pale and tired. Perhaps he did have a headache, after all. Maybe she should just leave him be until tomorrow. Her goal, after all, was to get him to have sex with her, not irritate him to the point where he would not want to.

“All right, Gastien. I am sorry you are not feeling well.” She stood up and walked to the door. “Perhaps a hot bath and early night right after dinner will help. Shall I ask the servants to bring dinner early?”

Gastien was surprised. She had not seemed the type that cared for anyone’s interests but her own. “
Non
, Véronique, but I really do appreciate your asking. I think I will lie down until the regular time for dinner arrives. You have a good afternoon.” He smiled tentatively.

“Goodbye, Gastien.“ She already had lost interest in his headache and was planning her afternoon.

Gastien sat for awhile on the couch, trying to decide what to do about Véronique. It was a very dangerous situation. Finally, he decided to ask Annah to chaperone her daughter, or find a servant that would. He would ask that she say nothing to Véronique. He would state that he just felt she was a little too interested in him, and he did not want to encourage anything untoward. Véronique would be furious, but that was her problem. He needed this money. He was not going to lose it.

Gastien decided to send a note to Annah when the servant brought his dinner. In it, he kindly asked for the chaperoning, explaining that it was for the good of the child. He stressed not to say anything to Véronique, because he did not want her embarrassed. Embarrassed, ha! He doubted if a wagon full of buck naked men playing with themselves would embarrass that vixen!

The next morning, Annah arrived at a quarter to nine, thanking Gastien for his foresight.

“Annah, you don’t have to thank me. I have heard it is common for young women to get ideas about one man or another. Please don’t think she has done anything too forward to me. I can just sense that she is a little too interested. I would be more comfortable with you here.”

Annah nodded. “I remember when I was Véronique’s age. I thought I was wildly in love with a young man who came to our estate to teach us French. Oh, my, he was so different from our family! I thought everything about him was wonderful, of course. Things could have gotten quite awful had he not been a gentleman. This is for the best, I am sure.”

Fifteen minutes later, Véronique sauntered in with her bodice pulled down low again. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her mother. ”M-m-mother! What are you doing here?” she stuttered.

Gastien hid his smile. It did him a world of good to see Véronique put in her place.

Annah stood. Without a word, she walked over to Véronique, pulled her bodice up to the appropriate height, and scolded, “I see that you must have dressed in a hurry this morning, Véronique. You must make sure in the future to check your clothing before you come to Gastien’s door. We would not want to make him so uncomfortable that he decides to leave us, would we?”

Véronique composed herself. “
Non
, of course not, Mother. You are right. I was in a hurry.” She turned and nodded to Gastien. “
Bonjour
, Gastien. Is your headache better today?”

Gastien nodded back. “
Oui
,
merci
. I got a good night’s sleep and this morning it was gone.” He walked over. “Shall we start? Do you remember your position?” he asked sweetly.

She glared at him. “Oui. Let’s begin.”

Annah smiled at Gastien softly and winked. Gastien went back to his easel. This would be much better. He painted for about twenty minutes, finally stating, “Véronique. Please. You look like a thundercloud today. Could you think of pleasant things? It will make a much nicer painting.”

She glared at him again. “What exactly would you suggest I think of then?” she said evenly.

Gastien stretched. “I don’t know, but surely you know what things give you pleasure. Think of one of those.”

She stared at him a minute. “All right, Gastien. I will think of something that I would enjoy very much. Hopefully that will give you the picture that you need. Do you need to know what I am thinking about?” she asked innocently.

Gastien smiled. “That is not necessary, but if you wish to share it, you can. The time will go faster for you if there is conversation. Perhaps you would like to discuss fashion with your mother, or something else females care to talk about, while I paint.”

“Why would you want to hear about fashion?” she said sullenly.

“I don’t. The talking is for you. I will not really be listening. I am caught up in doing what I love.”

Véronique sat in silence several minutes. Finally she could take it no more. “Mother? Why did you decide to chaperone me? Are you going to be here every day? I am not a baby.”

Annah raised her eyebrows. “
Non
, you are not a baby. You are not a woman yet, either, with a level head on her shoulders. I just decided it was wrong to have you alone in a man’s cottage. I will be here for the duration.”

“Lovely,” mumbled Véronique.

“I am so glad that you approve. Now, let’s talk about the
Noël
ball that you have been invited to this year.” Annah and Gastien met eyes, and Gastien nodded his thanks. The rest of the day passed uneventfully.

Annah made good on her promise. She was there as chaperone every day. Véronique’s portrait would be done by
Noël
. Jean Luc and Annah asked Gastien to join them for
Noël
dinner. He declined, saying the day was for family, but Jean Luc insisted, saying Gastien was like a son to him.

Jean Luc had continued to come to visit many evenings. The two of them also fenced together regularly. Gastien really admired and looked up to Jean Luc. Gastien blossomed from finally having a father figure in his life. He trusted Jean Luc even more as time went on.

One evening, he even told Jean Luc about his childhood. Once he started, he found he could not stop. They sat until the early hours of the morning, with Gastien pouring out all of the details. The beatings, the verbal abuse, his feelings of rejection, and how it hurt that he could never please his father. How much he wished he could see his mother again. Gastien was embarrassed to find that he was crying by the time he finally ran out of words. He had not even told Jean Luc about the struggles in Paris yet!

Jean Luc listened attentively. At one point, he got up to pour them each a whiskey. “Here, Gastien. This will make you feel a little warmer. You are shivering, you are so emotionally worked up,” soothed Jean Luc.

 Gastien took the drink. “
Merci
. Whiskey is always good for warming up the insides.” He drank, continuing on. At the end, Jean Luc simply stood and moved over to Gastien.

“My dear son, it is ok. I understand.” He gathered Gastien tenderly in his arms. “Please, don’t be sad, Gastien. All of that is over. You have a real father now, if you want me. As I have said, you are like a son to me, and I love you.”

Gastien nodded. After a few minutes, he pulled back. “Jean Luc I am sorry I acted like such a baby. A fine son I make for you!” He looked away, embarrassed.

Jean Luc just laughed softly. “Gastien, you had a very hard childhood. You are not acting like a baby. You needed to get that out or it would eat at you until you were sick. I am glad that you think enough of me that I was the one you confided in. You can trust me. You are exactly what I would want in a son. Exactly.” Jean Luc embraced Gastien again, petting his hair. “Compose yourself now. In a minute we will have one last drink, with a cigarette if you wish. Then I will say goodnight.” He pulled back. “How does that sound?”

Gastien wiped at his face. “That sounds great! I have not smoked in ages, a cigarette and a whiskey would be fine.”

Jean Luc poured and they lit up. After they were done smoking, they downed their drinks. Jean Luc got up to leave. “Good night, my Son. I hope you sleep well.”

“
Merci
, Jean Luc. You are so good to me.”

“You are welcome. Who knows? Someday I might be in need and you can return the favor. I will see you tomorrow.”

Gastien went to bed and fell asleep, thinking that he must be the luckiest person in the world to have ended up where he was.

Noël
was a jovial affair and, as usual, the cook outdid himself. Gastien thought he might need larger trousers by the next day. The same type of fine dining occurred on New Year's Day. That day, presents were exchanged. Gastien gave both daughters diaries. He gave Annah a pretty card holder for her calling cards. For Jean Luc, he brought a fine sherry that Maurice sold him, telling him, “This is just for you, not to be shared with me during our conversations. I want you to enjoy all of it.”

 The family gave Gastien a lovely set of cashmere gloves and a matching muffler. They would come in handy during the cold winter months. Gastien was very pleased. They then ate dessert and talked about the upcoming year.

Soon Gastien felt it was time to go back to the cottage. “Happy New Year and
merci
beaucoup
! I had a wonderful time today,” exclaimed Gastien.

They all wished him the same, then Jean Luc said, “I will walk back to the cottage with you, Gastien. I am so full I need some exercise or I won’t sleep. The food will sit like a rock in my stomach!

When they got to the cottage, Jean Luc brought out another gift from under his coat. “Here is something for you just from me, Gastien. I thought of you right away when I saw it. I hope it does not make you uncomfortable. I do not mean to be inappropriate,” he said warmly.

Gastien waved Jean Luc inside. “Come in, it is cold out there! Another gift? You have spoiled me way too much already! I am not going to want to ever leave!” laughed Gastien.

Jean Luc hesitated. “Well, that would not be so bad either. I would not mind you staying on permanently, painting our family milestones and various things. Since I do think of you as a son, I will hate to ever see you go.”

“But I must go, of course. Even sons have to,” said Gastien. “I really love it here, Jean Luc. I appreciate all you are doing for me, but my dream is to paint in Montmartre. Every artist has paintings of their own that cry to get on canvas.”

“Of course. That is understandable. I am just being sentimental because of the holiday, I guess!” Jean Luc joked. “Go on! Open your gift.”

Gastien ripped off the pretty paper and opened the box. Inside was an exquisite smoking jacket made out of fine satin. The jacket was imported from the Orient, colored in shades of reds and gold’s.

“Oh! Jean Luc, this is very beautiful! It must have cost a fortune. This is no small gift!”

“As you know, I am not lacking for money. I did not even consider the price, Gastien. I just knew it would look good on you and bought it. All gentlemen have a long smoking jacket to lounge in. So should you. You will not believe how wonderful satin feels against your skin.”

Gastien immediately thought of Nath and her sheets. I know, he thought. Believe me, I know.

Jean Luc smiled. “It is late. You can wear it tomorrow night after dinner, if you wish. There is no need to try it on now. Tomorrow you will have the fire going all day and it will be toasty in here, suitable for satin. For now, I will wish you a good night’s sleep.”

“
Merci
, Jean Luc. I am sure I will enjoy the gift.”

Jean Luc started to leave. Suddenly, he reached out to touch Gastien’s hair. Gastien jumped, startled.

“Gastien, I have noticed your hair is getting quite long. It is almost to your shoulders. Is there a reason you are wearing your hair so long?”

“My reason is simply that I want to stand out as unique. Women seem to like my hair more and more as it grows. Besides, a lot of artists have long hair. Mine will just end up being a little longer,” he replied, trying not to sound defensive.

Jean Luc took his hand away. “That makes sense. I just noticed that you could use a trim. I will send my barber this week to shape it for you.”

“There is no need. I have a barber I see regularly.”

“Please forgive me. I guess your hair is just unusual. It looks good on you, though, the ladies are right. Sleep well.” Jean Luc turned and left.

Gastien shut the door and stood there a moment, puzzled. Odd. He had just been to Laurent two weeks ago. Gastien sighed. Ah, well. Jean Luc meant well. He was probably not used to artists and their quirky styles. He hung up the smoking jacket and prepared for bed. Contentedly, he crawled under the covers.

 After consulting with Jean Luc and Annah the next day, it was determined that Annah would wait until spring for her sittings. She wanted to be painted in spring colors, so she would wait until the new spring fashions came out. That meant Jean Luc would be next. This would take longer, because Jean Luc could not sit for full days, as he had to spend at least part of his days running his business affairs. It was decided that he would take care of business in the mornings and make himself available afternoons. This was fine with Gastien, because he would be able to paint his own things during the mornings. It would take four months to get Jean Luc’s portrait done, bringing them through April.

Soon, mornings were spent with Gastien painting some more of his favorite paintings: the exploration of color, shape and texture. His paintings were unlike anything being done anywhere. He did not show them to the family. He knew that most people would not care for what he was doing. That did not concern him. This was for his own satisfaction, not someone else’s.

Those paintings were breathtaking. Color came alive in a new way, and shapes seemed to move, drawing you into the painting. These bizarre paintings were intense, and some were very disturbing. They would never be paintings for the timid. Eventually Gastien would push it further, but for now, he still painted things in shapes you could recognize. It was the color and texture that set them apart. He made the eye see things in a new way, forced the brain to stretch its imagination.