Author's Notes:The surname "Tollmache" comes from the Normandy region of France and means "bell ringer".

Chapter Summary: Isabelle and Katarina, Raoul and Christine's daughters share concerns about their younger brother. At Chagny, Raoul finds comfort in Olivier and his son's new wife, Sylvie. And at a farmhouse in the countryside north of Paris, Nico finds comfort with his brother.

CHAPTER FOUR

"You like tea, Mama?" Emelyne Dalliaire asked the woman sitting across from her.

Isabelle de Chagny-Dalliaire sipped at the imaginary drink, nodded and smiled at her daughter. "I like it very much."

Emelyne, the image of her mother when Isabelle was three, clapped hands and bounced in her small chair. She had invited her mother to a tea party in the nursery of their Paris home and now they sat with Emelyne's favorite dolls around a child-sized table, sipping at tea and eating make-believe sandwiches. "I had Cook," she nodded at a nearby doll, "make it e-special for you."

"Thank you, Cook," Isabelle acknowledged. She studied her youngest child from beneath her lashes and felt her heart fill with a love she had never known. There was something about the blonde curls and bright blue eyes that looked at her with such innocence and trust that made Isabelle's heart skip a beat. The feeling overwhelmed her and she reached a fingertip to dab at the corner of her eye; her daughter did not miss it.

"Do not cry, Mama," Emelyne said as she got up and went to her mother, wrapping little arms about Isabelle's waist.

"They are happy tears, my sweetest," Isabelle replied, planting a kiss on the top of her daughter's head.

"Happy tears?" A frown creased the child's face. "That's silly."

Isabelle laughed and sniffled back the last of her tears. "Mamas can be very silly." She pinched Emelyne's chin. "And now, my dear, it is time for a nap." She saw the fight brewing in Emelyne's bright eyes and a smile crossed her face as her own mother's words echoed in her memory – I could always see your smart little mind working behind those big eyes, stubborn little thing. "You really must take a nap so that you can sit up and have tea with Papa and Antoine when they come home."

At the mention of her two favorite men – father and older brother – the frown disappeared from Emelyne's face. A shy smile turned up the corners of her lips. "Do my dolls need a nap?"

"Most certainly," Isabelle nodded.

Emelyne turned from her mother and moved about the nursery gathering her favorite dolls. Soon the canopied bed dressed in pink linens had dolls of all shapes and sizes covering nearly the entire mattress. Emelyne climbed up and sat on the edge of the bed waving her feet at her mother. Isabelle smiled as she took off shoes, kissing wiggling toes and delighting in the child's giggles. Emelyne managed to find an empty space amongst her dolls and lay down, holding out arms to her mother. "Night, night, Mama."

"Rest well, Emelyne," Isabelle whispered and hugged her daughter. She kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Sweet dreams." Emelyne grabbed a nearby doll as Isabelle stood and slipped her thumb into her mouth. Isabelle sighed knowing that Jean-Michel would not have approved and taken the thumb out. But her husband was not home and Isabelle was all too willing to indulge her children when the occasion presented itself. She stood watching as Emelyne's eyes slowly blinked closed before turning and leaving the nursery, closing the door quietly behind her. She encountered the au pair just coming up the back stairs. Isabelle held a finger to her lips and nodded at the closed door. "She just fell asleep."

"Yes, ma'am." The au pair nodded. "I was coming to find you." Isabelle looked puzzled and the nanny quickly continued. "Your sister is waiting for you in the front parlor."

Isabelle brightened considerably. "Stay with her," she instructed. "But only let her sleep for no more than two hours." She turned and headed down the front stairs, trusting the au pair to look after her baby. Upon reaching the first floor, Isabelle quickly moved to sunny parlor at the front of the house. She threw open the door and squealed in delight, "Katya!"

Katarina Coppens rose from where she sat and met her sister halfway across the room, smiling gently as a laughing Isabelle drew her into a tight hug. "I am happy to see you, as well," Katarina told her, a soft smile on her face.

The two sisters were a study in contrasts. Isabelle, blonde, blue-eyed and exuberant, dressed in the height of fashion as befitted the wife of an up-and-coming politician. Katarina, "Katya" to her family, dark-haired, blue-eyed and serious, her clothes much more somber than those of her older sister, appropriate for the wife of a young clergyman. Yet despite their differences, the sisters were devoted to each other and took great joy in each other's lives, husbands and children.

"When did you get to Paris?" Isabelle began as she kept Katya's hands and led her to a loveseat. "How long can you stay? Where are you staying? Did David come with you? Is Samuel here? The children would love to see Samuel!"

Katya could not help but laugh at her sister. Isabelle had always been the most out-going of all her siblings – some things could never change. "I arrived yesterday. I can stay for two weeks. No, David did not come he is at home, church business keeps him there." She brightened as the image of her two-year old passed through her mind. "Yes, I brought Samuel with me and, perhaps, we can take the children to the park for an afternoon."

"Oh, I would like that!" Isabelle's eyes narrowed. "You did not mention where you are staying." She giggled as Katya rolled her eyes. "You are not!"

"I am. Samuel and I are staying at Mama and Papa's."

"Oh, Lord!"

"Isabelle!"

"Katya!"

The sisters stared at each other for a moment before breaking into shared laughter.

"You know you are never going to get Samuel away from Maman," Isabelle warned as she got her laughter under control.

Katya nodded as she drew deep breaths, steadying her own laughter. "I know. I know." She grew serious. "But I received a letter from Olivier. He said that Maman was coming back to Paris and that it might do her heart good if she could see Samuel."

"I suppose he also told you that Anders and Papa are disagreeing again. That is why Maman is coming back here early. She is going to Boulogne in the hopes that she can reconcile their differences." Isabelle shook her head. "If anyone can perform such a miracle, it will be Maman."

"Only God can perform miracles," Katya reminded her. "But Maman can come close and I pray her much success. I love our brother and I adore Papa but I do not understand why they must always be disagreeing with each other." She sighed. "David says it is easier to understand the needs of our flock than to understand the needs of our own family. I think he is correct. I just… I just…"

"I know." Isabelle patted her hand in comfort. "I may not be as smart as Olivier or as studious as you." A self-deprecating laugh slipped out. "But this I know, until Papa can let Hakon rest in peace and be a pleasant memory, he is never going to be able to love Anders the way that our brother deserves to be loved – for himself."

Amazement crossed Katya's face. "Who says you are not smart?" she wondered and the amazement was replaced by a naughty twinkle in her eye. "Now can you please explain to me how I can save my son from his grandmama?"

Their laughter bounced off the walls.

And in the south of France at an ancient and historic chateau their brother, the Vicomte de Chagny, sat with his father in a familiar study, going over last minute instructions. Papers were spread across the desk between them, pens and inkwells nearby. A small fire burned in the fireplace on the other side of the room chasing away the chill of an early spring morning. The light from the meager flames would occasionally gleam off a strand of golden-brown hair from one of the heads bent over the desk and the papers and the inkwells.

One of those heads raised and its owner leaned back in his chair, a delighted sigh escaping from his lips. "You seem to have everything under control." The sigh was followed by an equally delighted smile. "That means I can leave everything in your capable hands and follow your mother to Paris."

Oliver looked up at his father. "I still cannot believe you let Maman go to Paris on her own."

Raoul shook his head at the memories. "Your mother has a habit of leaving Chagny to go to Paris on her own."

"So I understand." Olivier, a younger version of his father just as Raoul had been a younger version of his older brother, leaned back in his own chair. "I would never allow Sylvie to travel on her own!"

"My dear Vicomte," Raoul began and closed his eyes, hearing Philippe's voice saying those same words to him; he shook away that memory. "One day you will realize that you have married a woman who is just as strong and capable as your mother. Do not let that day be in the distant future."

Oliver, newly married to Sylvie Tollmache the past autumn, felt the heat rising in his neck. Much like his father, he preferred to keep the emotional, as well as physical, intimacies of his marriage behind closed doors of rooms and heart. "I promise, sir," he managed clearing his throat and reaching for a sheaf of papers, studying them closely. "Are you sure that these are the prices you wish to offer for the new foals? Could we not get more? Make a better profit on them?"

So smart but still so young, Raoul thought and aloud, "We could," he agreed. "But those are the prices I wish to offer to our best buyers. Should we raise the price too much, we will lose their good will as well as sullying our name. In the business of horse flesh, my dear boy, good will and name will carry you just as far as the breeding stock."

"I had not thought of it that way," Olivier admitted as he returned the papers to the desk. "There are times when I only see the bottom line – it is the way I was trained up at university. I do tend to forget family name when that happens."

"You should never forget the family name."

What Olivier might have said was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed by a young woman with auburn hair entering the room. His eyes lit up as his wife came to his side, a tray with a coffee service on it in her hands. He waited until Sylvie put down the tray before taking her hand and raising it to his lips. He smiled at the blush that colored her cheeks. "Thank you love," he mouthed.

Sylvie could not hold her husband's gaze for fear of melting at his feet and turned her gaze to her father-in-law. "I thought you both had been working so hard and could use some fresh coffee and pastries."

"You already know our weakness for sweets," Raoul chuckled.

"It is one of the things I love most about Olivier," she replied and felt her hand being squeezed. "One of many." Her blush deepened. "I should leave the two of you to finish."

Raoul could not help but notice her heightened color and remembered the days when a simple squeeze of her hand would bring such color to Christine's cheeks. Now their own intimacies had grown deeper and more secure and all he could think was how much he missed just having her in the same room with him. The thought was enough to heighten the color in his face. "I am leaving tomorrow and this young man of yours," he nodded at his eldest son, "has the business end of running Chagny quite well in hand." He smiled at Sylvie. "And I know that I can trust you to have the running of this house just as well in hand."

"I shall try, sir." Sylvie sighed. "It is a large task," she turned to smile at her husband, "but I have the best of teachers." Her attention turned back to Raoul. "I shall not let your or the Comtess down."

"I know you shall not."

"I must tend to things, so I shall leave you gentlemen to finish your work." Sylvie turned back to Olivier and sought a kiss before leaving the room, knowing his eyes followed her as she left.

"She is a good woman and a wonderful Vicomtess," Raoul said softly as the door closed.

"She is," Olivier agreed just as softly. "I am so blessed to have found her."

"I pray your brother will be as blessed."

Olivier turned back to his father. "Sir…"

Raoul held up a hand. "I know and I did promise your mother that I would not worry about Anders and that she could handle the current situation. I just… I cannot help it. He is my son and I do worry over him and I do love him."

"You ought to be saying that to him." Olivier studied his fingers.

"I should," Raoul agreed. "I shall." He turned to look out the window at the long drive that led to the front door of Chagny. "I will."

The de Chagny's were not the only ones consumed by family thoughts and worries that day. In the countryside north of Paris, an elegant young man dismounted from an equally elegant horse. Confident strides took him to the front door of an isolated farmhouse. He did not knock on the door but opened it and walked in, pausing as he listened to the sound of voices. Footsteps guided him in the direction of those voices and he found himself in a huge kitchen, men and women - not nearly as elegant as he - gathered about. An older woman, her face showing the hard life she had lived, turned at the sound of his footsteps, her face lighting up.

"Chase!" she exclaimed.

"Maman," Chase replied as his mother drew him into her arms. He held her tight for a few minutes, her smell of onions and cabbage drawing him back to his youth.

"What are you doing here?" his mother wondered as she drew back. "Should you not be attending to those people?" The spit flying from her lips punctuated her question.

"Those people," Chase could not keep the disdain from his voice, "are scattered from one end of France to the other. They can live without me for a day or two."

An old man playing cards at the table with other old men, raised his head. "What of our plans? You are not neglecting them, are you now, boy?"

"Trust me to see this through," Chase said in a tone of voice that chilled the old man and sent him back to his card playing. Chase returned his attention to his mother. "Where is he?"

His mother nodded toward the back door. "Out there. You know he cannot bear to be kept behind locked doors."

Chase patted his mother's shoulder. "I know," he acknowledged. "I am going to go to him."

His mother watched as Chase left the kitchen, heading for the fields beyond the back door. "Such a good boy," she whispered and returned to the pots simmering on the hearth.

Chase knew that his mother watched him leave the kitchen. He also knew that the others gathered there did not, they did not dare. He was the smart one, the one upon whom they placed all their hopes. The one who would see all their plans come to fruition. He was their light and salvation and Chase took great pride in the power they gave him. It was a power that would see justice done for the man who sat silently in the middle of the field, his head raised to the sky. "Nico," he said as he walked off the back porch and to where his brother sat. "Nico," he repeated as he sat beside his brother, not caring about the grass and dirt that stained his expensive pants.

"Chase," Nico said and leaned over, laying down on the grass and placing his head on Chase's lap. "Have you ever seen how the clouds talk to us?"

"I cannot say that I have," Chase replied, a hand caressing his brother's head.

"They say all kinds of things," Nico continued. "Everything talks to us." He shook his head. "I could not hear when I was in that place." A vile look crossed his place. "It was so quiet." He turned to look up at Chase. "But ever since you got me out, I can hear them again."

"It was well done of us, was it not?" Chase smiled as he remembered paying off a lowly aid at the asylum to which Nico had been banished after his trial for what had been done to Raoul. It had been all too easy for the man who cleaned up after his brother to slip him a vial of liquid that simulated death. The drug had been known to his people for ages and had worked its magic. Nico had been assumed dead and the aid delivered his "body" to gypsies instead of to an anonymous grave behind the asylum. Chase hoped the aid had enjoyed his payment – for the short time he was alive to enjoy it. "Never leave behind unfinished business," he whispered.

"What?" Nico wondered.

"Nothing," Chase assured him. "I was just thinking how nice it is that I can care for you now, the same way you cared for me when we were children." He continued to caress his brother's head. "You stay here with Maman and our family and be safe and happy." He smiled. "You listen to your voices and watch the world go by and enjoy the freedom that should always be yours."

"But the voices say I have to get those people. I have to get my toys picked up and put away," Nico pouted.

A look of fierce determination grew on Chase's countenance. "You leave those people to me, big brother. You have done enough, it is my turn now."

"But my toys…"

Chase smiled down upon his brother. "I will see that you get your toys back so that you can put them away. I promise." There was no humor in his smile. "I promise."

"You are such a good brother, " Nico sighed happily and returned his attention to the clouds, humming along with the voices he heard.

"You are most welcome," Chase whispered.