Over the next several days the vampire read over the documents he received on Emile while the tenor was busy preparing a lavish birthday for his mother. Emile Claudel loved to entertain in grand fashion, at least when someone of note was present. Invitations had gone out to members of the opera as well as a few other patrons he was acquainted with, but he had set his sights on a bigger prize. To impress he had ordered Ragu of Veal, white soup, cold fowl, and sturgeon to be served along with marzipan, flummeries and petit fours for dessert. He made sure there would be plenty of rum punch as well as his favorite Portuguese wine. He had seen the expensive clothing that Erik wore and heard Aidan talk about the finery of Osrik House and wanted very much to cultivate a friendship. Hopefully his fine taste would impress even if it did put him further in debt.
As he planned his splendid affair, he was also asking around about Erik Ambrose. He wanted to know what sort of business he was in and what his family was like. While Emile truly believed himself to be the most important person in the room, he still found that such information could be quite handy in striking up a conversation and seeming to be a kindred spirit. He had learned that flattery and pandering to the likes and desires of an aristocrat could often grant you favors and potentially elevate status. Unfortunately finding out anything on his wealthy guest was proving impossible. He checked passenger manifests and talked with banks but could not learn anything about the elusive Mr. Ambrose. For the first time he became concerned that perhaps he was wrong and Erik wasn't really an aristocrat. Perhaps his fortune was only a facade or came from less than honorable means.
Pretending to have a fortune was unforgivable in Emile's eyes. To him it made a person lower than vermin that scurried in back alleys and through the gutters. If someone made their wealth from business dealings that were less than above board, well . . . he could overlook a lot in return for favors. The opportunity to step inside exclusive clubs and rub elbows with powerful men was what he valued most, not how such people conducted themselves. Emile would readily condemn a woman selling herself so that her child might have a morsel of bread while overlooking or even praising the aristocrat that had forced himself upon her in the first place. Of course, he could not be sure of what sort of man Erik Ambrose was yet and rather than risk possibly losing a powerful, affluent connection he would simply have to proceed with caution.
The night of the party everything was perfect. Everyone was dressed in their finest, the best china was out and the rooms were brilliantly lit with beeswax candles. Although they were costly, Emile had purchased as many as possible and had them set in the chandeliers and round the dining room and parlor. Decorative mirrors were carefully placed to reflect the light bathing everything in a warm glow. Calling in a few favors he had managed to get four of the orchestra members to play as a string quartet so the guests could dance after supper.
The guests arrived and were seated in the dining room just before sunset with the sumptuous feast before them. Each one ate their fill and washed it down with rum punch or wine. Toasts were made to Patrice in honor of the occasion, especially by Emile who put on a great show of love and loyalty to his mother which was nothing more than that, a show. Still, for a brief moment she could not have been happier than she was sitting among so many friends, but it did not last. True to his word, Erik arrived and was shown into the dining room just after sunset when everyone was finishing desert. As soon as the servant showed him in, Patrice Claudel immediately went pale.
"Mr. Ambrose, may I present my mother, Madame Patrice Claudel."
"A pleasure, Madame."
"Delia," Emile called to one of the maids. "I'm sure our guest must be famished, why don't you bring him some of the venison and some wine."
"I thank you, but it is not necessary." The vampire turned and looked over at Aidan gently nodding an acknowledgment to her. She smiled back at him then took a sip of her wine. Emile looked at her face, then back at the vampire, then poured himself a drink.
The group of revelers continued to sit around the table and talk, discussing items of interest that varied from the latest fashions and gossip to the impending birth of Napoleon's first child as well as King George III's recent illness. Regardless of what they tried to talk about, Emile always attempted to steer the conversation back to himself, usually without success. Erik sat listening to the conversations, but spoke very little. His perspective on the news of the day tended to be quite different from that of mortals, particularly since he often had a hand in creating it. Even now his pockets were well lined with gold after procuring and delivering certain drugs that would ensure the king's continued madness and blindness. He had no conscience about it and really didn't need the money. He had always enjoyed toying with humanity, or at least he normally did. At that moment, looking across the table at Aidan, he found himself feeling rather unworthy of her smiles or her good opinion.
"May I suggest we retire to the sitting room for music and dancing?" Emile suggested to everyone's approval.
When the guests were once again comfortable, the tenor asked Aidan to indulge everyone with a song. Aidan was only too happy to perform and handed the musicians sheet music. Seizing the opportunity, Emile quickly moved to Erik's side hoping to draw him out. If this mysterious guest was all he seemed to be then he certainly wanted to make a good impression so he could advance himself. He poured on the charm and spoke of business and politics so fluently that one could almost believe he had the highest connections in London.
"Now tell me, what business did you say you were in?" Emile asked hoping to find out something about his guest.
"My own." Erik attempted to move away and enjoy Aidan's singing, but his host would not be put off so easily.
"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Ambrose. I noticed that you have an interesting accent. Where are you from? What business are you in? I, for one, enjoy dabbling in various . . ."
"So you tried to state numerous times at the table, sir. As for me, I have traveled all over the world and my business . . . is mine alone and no one else's. Mr. Claudel, I came to celebrate your mother's birthday, not to talk about commerce. Besides, Miss Cathal is singing and I would very much prefer to listen to her." At Erik's rejection Emile poured himself more wine and quickly downed it to pour another. He would need to find a way to break his interest in her. Aidan finished her piece to the applause of the guests. She then sat down at the piano forte and began to play a portion of Mozart's Sonata. "She has much talent." Erik mused to himself aloud.
"Yes," Emile interjected, once more hoping to connect with his guest and further himself. "I have always encouraged her musical endeavors." He finished his glass of wine and poured another. "It is hard to imagine that she is the daughter of a common dustman. I understand that he died when she was only a baby and that her mother became a laundress to support them." He watched Erik's face to see his reaction to Aidan's background, but there was none.
"It is a remarkable thing to see a woman rise above her humble beginnings and become so accomplished," Erik answered.
