The Phantom of the Regency
A/N: This seems to be the week for notes. I will confess that Regency romances are one of my weaknesses. If you ever lose me in a bookshop you know where to find me! It is such a polite and romantic time period that you can't help but love it. Now, music and the arts will play a small role in Erik and Christine's life, but they will not be the main focus of the fic. I'm thrilled that you are enjoying my story.
The Incurable Matchmaker
"Mrs Daaé and Miss Daaé," the Walter butler, Hobbs announced as he pushed open the doors of the drawing room where Daphne was waiting their arrival with impatience.
"Christine!" the woman jumped from her seat and rushed to greet her friend with a warm hug. "Dear you look wonderful; you must tell me how London is. Mrs Daaé, how was your journey?"
"It was tolerable. There was an accident, which slowed us considerably, did it not, Christine? I have a headache and would like to rest for a while if I may, Mrs Walter. I do not mean to sound ungrateful…"
Christine's nose wrinkled. Her mother truly was the most shocking traveller. Anywhere further than Brighton was too far!
"I understand, ma'am. My housekeeper will show you to your room. I will have a tray sent up presently."
Daphne watched the older woman quit the room before sitting down on the settee and demanding all the latest news on the school and London. The two women were hidden away in the drawing room and had quite lost track of the time.
"I think you need to find a new accounts teacher when you return to London," Daphne said. "I do not think Miss Brambles is suited to teaching. If she was as unable to help Jenny as you say, it is most definitely time she began to look for a new position."
Christine nodded in agreement; she too had been thinking the same thing. Perhaps she would be able to instruct the girls until a suitable replacement was found. The children always liked it when she joined their classes.
At four o'clock, a maid with the tea tray entered the room, followed by two gentlemen. Christine had never met Daphne's husband, but she could tell from her description that the fair-haired man who entered the room first was her host – and her friend's husband. Daphne and her husband were the perfect match; both blonde with blue eyes.
"I did not know your guests had arrived already, Daphne," Ashlyn said as he glanced between Christine and his friend.
"Only Miss Daaé and her mother. I have not seen Christine since last year's Season; I thought we might have a day to ourselves before the others arrive."
Erik's suspicions were confirmed. The frenzied movement of the servants and his friend's desire to keep him outdoors made sense. He was now part of a house party which, for some reason Ash did not see the need to tell him about.
"Now, Ash, stop arguing with me and let me introduce you both to my friend. Christine, this is Colonel Lord Erik Heaton and my husband Major Ashlyn Walter. Gentlemen, Miss Christine Daaé."
"Major Walter, Colonel Heaton," Christine greeted the men with a smile and a curtsey.
"Actually, it is Lord Erik," he informed her in his melodious voice. "I have recently resigned my commission."
For the first time, Christine noticed the mask that covered the right side of Lord Erik's face. How she had missed that, she did not know. Perhaps it was that it seemed to suit him somehow.
For a moment, she allowed her mind to wander at the image he must have presented dressed in his green uniform with the black frogging.
"Then I must congratulate you both on returning to England. And you to, Lord Erik, for being able to decide to leave the army."
Lord Erik looked down his nose at Christine's comment. He was filled with an uncharacteristic wave of anger towards a woman. "Why should you care whether I returned or not; you do not know me."
Christine fought the impulse to glare at the man. "I should not care for any more unnecessary deaths than we have experienced because of this war. You are one of the lucky few who have been able to return home."
"Christine's brother was killed at Trafalgar," Daphne explained before the two could throttle each other.
Erik nodded. He liked that the girl was not intimidated by his mask or his cool attitude. She had very quickly put him in his place – and did not give it a second thought.
Dinner that night was relaxed. Tomorrow night's dinner would also be an informal meal with after dinner games as the first of the guests arrived from their journeys from London. As such, Ash took the opportunity to escort his wife into the dining room, leaving Erik the responsibility to take both Mrs and Miss Daaé.
When Christine took his arm a feeling similar to an electric shock passed through his body. He shrugged it off, assuming it was due to exhaustion. Ash had them riding over his property all day.
The meal proved to be a lively affair as Miss Daaé and Mrs Walter carried most of the conversation. Christine laughed as she recalled the argument that had resulted between the literary ladies the previous week. "You should have heard the set-down Mrs Charlemagne gave Miss Windsor when she called the heroine a prig! Jane basically accused her of failing to read the novel carefully!"
"You are both members of a literary group?" Erik asked, surprised. He would not have thought that the Miss Daaé would take interest in anything beyond fashion. The gown she was wearing clearly was of the highest quality and he assumed to be in the current fashion.
Christine nodded and smiled at Erik. "We are both very passionate about our readings and our meetings. Is that not so, Daph?"
Mrs Walter nodded, agreeing with Christine. "It is an opportunity to discuss the books we have read with likeminded ladies. It is a very enlightening experience."
Mrs Daaé sighed, like the tormented mother that she was. "I really do not see what it is that is so fascinating about talking about books. In my day, it was not done…"
Christine shared a glance with her hostess before she returned her attention to her plate, occasionally offering a 'yes, Mama'. She knew the speech nearly as well as she knew the Almack's voucher speech.
Young ladies should never take an interest in anything such as a reading group. Heavens, they would be branded a bluestocking! Gentlemen wanted to feel smarter than their wives. They did not wish to marry a bluestocking.
Mr Walter must be a genius! Christine thought with a smile. If he was to feel smarter than Daphne – who happened to be one of the smartest women she knew – he certainly must be very clever.
She took a sip of her wine to hide her smile. Lord Erik was watching her with a curious gleam in his eyes. Erik raised his glass as a silent acknowledgement before returning his attention back to his plate.
Erik and Ashlyn rejoined the three ladies in the drawing room after more than an hour. Daphne was very quick to beg Christine to entertain them with a performance on the pianoforte. Erik looked less than amused at the idea of being subjected to the torture of listening to Miss Daaé's barely passable piano playing.
Christine sat down and began to play. Erik was willing to admit he was wrong. The lady was more than competent. If he was to be fair, she was brilliant. She had a perfect combination of technique, interpretation and passion.
"Ashlyn says you would sing. Please, Lord Erik, join Miss Daaé." Daphne looked imploringly at her guest.
Erik reluctantly crossed to Miss Daaé and together they chose their next piece.
Christine sighed in delight when she heard Erik's high baritone voice. All in the room had to admit that theirs was a match made in heaven. Christine's perfect playing coupled with Erik's divine voice was more than enough to convince Daphne that she was correct.
Christine could not stop the second sigh from escaping her lips. She smiled at Erik as she continued to play. He was beautiful.
The following day was spent in a mad panic for Daphne as many of the guests began arriving with trunks and servants in tow. It was not until just before dinner that all the guests – having rested from their journeys – were together in the one room.
Erik stood back in the corner of the room watching the events unfolding around him. He watched as Mr and Mrs Walter busily introduced the guests to each other. He was very aware of the guests watching him with ill-disguised curiosity as they took in his covered face. He was used to that. He had spent his entire life being stared at.
There were four ladies who were all chatting with Miss Daaé at the other end of the room. They were obviously members of the same literary group. There was the dark haired and friendly Miss Drusilla Blair, the two blonde sisters Ladies Lily and Kate. Miss Harriett Windsor – the woman who fails to see character growth.
The gentlemen were at various points around the room talking to each other or the chaperones. Scott Riddell seemed handsome enough, though a definite dandy in his powder blue breeches and bright yellow waistcoat. Mr Warwick Felton was a handsome man with pale blonde hair and dark blue eyes.
It was the very handsome and very French Vicomte de Chagny who set Erik's teeth gnashing. The young aristocrat was the Walters' neighbour. He had lived in England since his escape from Paris as a four-year-old with his parents during the reign of terror.
Lord Erik escorted his hostess into the dining room following the butler's announcement that dinner was served. The Vicomte escorted the Lady Kate while Christine was taken into dinner by Mr Felton.
For much of the meal, Erik found himself glancing down to the other end of the table where Christine sat. He liked hearing her speak and the interesting and teasing things she said. At least she was not near the too dashing Vicomte!
Following dinner, Mrs Walter again convinced Christine to play the pianoforte. There was a momentary struggle of wills between Lord Erik and the Vicomte as they fought for the privilege of turning Miss Daaé's pages. In the end, Raoul won and joined Christine at the instrument.
He smiled down at her and to Erik's pain; she returned his smile with a bright one of her own.
Christine slipped down the stairs as the last of the guests making up the hunting party exited through the front door. The thought of her host and the male guests chasing after a fox, terrified beyond belief upset her.
As far as she was aware, many of the ladies were sitting in the drawing room gossiping and working on their cross-stitch. Instead, she had decided to spend the day reading. She needed quiet.
She closed the door of the library softly behind her and began perusing the numerous volumes that the Walters had amassed over the years. After approximately half an hour exploring the books, Christine found a book which interested her. She sat on the ladder for a few minutes as she wiped the cover clean from all the dust and began to read the first chapter. She let out a soft sneeze as the dust settled in the air.
"Bless you."
The book fell from Christine's hands as she looked around for the owner of the voice. She had been in here for a while and had not heard any one enter the room.
Erik moved from his chair in the corner of the room to retrieve the forgotten book and assist Christine down from the ladder.
He had been enjoying reading in the silence of the library, preferring the solitude to an afternoon riding after an animal. The door had opened quietly and closed behind a figure dressed in a yellow morning gown. Erik immediately recognised Miss Daaé who obviously did not know he was there and settled back to his book.
His book remained on the same page it had been opened to when Christine entered. He took the time to observe her, unseen. For the first time, he noticed the little things she did. She would wrinkle her nose when she was not impressed by a book and would bite the tip of her thumb as she tried to contain her excitement. Her blue-green eyes would sparkle. Her chestnut curls often fell in her eyes and she pushed them behind her ear with an impatient hand.
"I did not know you were in here, Lord Erik," she said as she placed her hand in his and climbed down the ladder. "I imagined you would have gone hunting with the others."
"No, I decided against joining them."
Christine was disappointed by Erik's lack of response. She had seen him watching her at dinner the last few nights from his position near the head of the table and thought perhaps he would like to further their relationship.
"You do not mind if I join you, do you?" Christine asked nervously, perhaps he wanted the room to himself.
"Not at all," he assured her, handing the book back to her after glancing at the cover. He raised a brow. "Confessions in original Greek."
Christine accepted the book from him, cradling it against her chest. "I would sit in on my brother's lessons. I learnt more from Danny's tutor than I did from my governess."
Erik nodded. He knew that females were given a very different education to males. He was pleased that Miss Daaé had a broad education. The pair stood in silence for a few awkward moments.
"Would you care to take a walk with me? I thought to draw the view from the hill." Erik blurted out. It was far too hot and oppressive indoors. "Of course you do not have to-"
"I would like that." Christine smiled brightly at him. "I will have to change; I will only be ten minutes." She rushed out of the room, vaguely noting that Erik stood for her.
Eleven minutes later she met Erik at the bottom of the stairs, her maid tagging behind. Christine was now dressed in a pink walking dress with a matching bonnet, her slippers swapped for walking boots. They slowly made their way up the hill, each lost in their own thoughts.
"You said that you planned to draw. Did you draw the landscapes in Portugal, sir?" Christine asked in an attempt to draw Erik out of his thoughts.
"Yes, I did. I was posted there for seven years and then in Paris for four years and drew hundreds of sketches of Portugal and the army."
At the top of the hill, Erik pulled out his charcoal and paper and began to sketch the view. Christine sat to his side, watching him draw and the picture quickly began to take shape.
Christine plucked a daisy from the ground and began to make a daisy chain, unaware that Erik was sketching her. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as her fingers quickly plaited the stems together.
She heard the sound of the hunt below her and wondered how the fox was faring.
"No!" Erik screamed. He reached around to his back, searching for his rifle and not finding it. He swore loudly, causing Christine to blush at his language.
Christine stood in horror as she watched her escort rise to his feet, ready for combat. He looked as though he was ready to run down the hill to where Christine had heard the hunt. Horses… the hunt!
She had heard stories of soldiers returning after war and reliving the experiences over and over again. Apparently the men would imagine they were on the battlefield when something triggered a memory. Erik obviously had a confrontation with French cavalry.
She remembered the way her brother would instinctively drop to the floor every time he heard a loud noise as if expecting cannon fire. At the time it made no sense, but now, she realised that he was very sensitive and stressed.
Quintin was trying to hold her back from Erik, but she shook off the maid's grip and ran to his side. She grasped his arm, only to find her wrist caught in his other hand.
"Erik," she whispered softly. His grip tightened. "Erik, you are hurting me. Lord Erik, it is safe. You are safe. You are back in England. The French will not find you here."
In an effort to calm him, she raised her hand to his cheek and began to caress it lovingly. Christine's governess would stroke her cheek whenever she was upset and it seemed to work for her. Eventually Erik loosened his grip and his eyes lost that haunted expression.
"Christine?"
She smiled at his use of her given name. She should correct him; she had not given him leave to address her so informally. But formality seemed superfluous after what she had just experienced. Besides, the way he said her name made her smile. It made her feel as if she was wrapped up in a warm blanket with a large pot of hot chocolate.
"Are you well?"
Erik looked at Christine's pale maid and swore under his breath again. He had terrified the servant and Christine to a lesser extent. He ran a hand over the left side of his face.
"It is time we were returning."
Erik led the way down the hill back to the manor. He silently cursed himself for allowing his guard to drop sufficiently to allow himself to experience the cuirassier's attack again. It was not at all the image he wanted to portray to the heiress.
Christine could sense his black mood and silently followed him. She smiled at him as he assisted both herself and her maid over a stile. She felt bereft when he quickly removed his hand from hers once she was safely on the ground. Christine wanted nothing more than to place her hand in the safety of his, but instead clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
Once indoors, Christine watched as Erik removed his hat and gloves. She could feel the tension around him. Its strength surprised her; she could almost touch it.
"Don't tell anyone what just happened," he insisted as he looked between Christine, the drawing room and the stairs leading to the first floor. Judging by the noises that were emanating from the room, it was obvious the hunting party had returned and were all excitedly recounting their adventure. At the moment, all Erik wanted was to escape to the solitude of his room.
"I would never! I will talk to my maid, although Quintin knows when to keep her the things she sees to herself." When he would have turned away, Christine stopped him. "Lord Erik," she said softly, reaching out to touch him gently on his forearm, "We all have our own nightmares."
Erik looked down into Christine's little face in confusion for a moment before turning on his heel and climbing the stairs two at a time.
Following dinner the ladies and gentlemen sat in the drawing room playing card games, gossiping and drinking tea. Erik pulled Ashlyn aside, his eyes tormented. He had reached the difficult decision following his disgrace in front of Miss Daaé that he had to leave.
He had to leave the Walters' house and would forget Ashlyn, his riflemen, the hell and all he learnt in Portugal. If he stayed with Ash he would constantly be reminded of everything he was trying to forget.
"You can't go!" Ash informed him in a shocked tone.
Erik rubbed his forehead, trying to ease some of the tension. "I have to. I can't be here."
"Where will you go?" Ashlyn realised that his friend was serious. For whatever reason Erik had decided that he was going to leave. It was clear he was not going to explain himself.
Erik shrugged. He did not know where he would go. Perhaps he would stay at an inn for a while. He had never been to the Lake District; it was said to be very pretty. Maybe he would go there. In short it did not matter where he went; just as long as it was away from anything that reminded him of the army.
Ashlyn sighed. "If you feel you need to go, then you must go. But please, wait until the morning. Daphne would be devastated if you left without saying goodbye."
Erik reluctantly nodded. He settled himself in a chair in the corner and looked at the guests. He could see them as they sat talking, drinking and laughing. It felt as if he was watching them from a far distance. He had been an observer his entire life, yet this felt different. He felt distanced. He felt detached from everyone.
Christine and Daphne were sitting on the settee silently watching the interacting guests. Daphne had seen her husband and Lord Erik talking very seriously. She could not like the defeated look Erik wore. Daphne made a mental note to quiz her husband after all the guests had retired for the night.
"What do you make of Mr Felton?" Daphne asked in a whisper.
Christine smiled. "He is a veritable gentleman; very polite. He has a lovely dry sense of humour. He has escorted me to dinner these past three nights."
Daphne nodded as she considered Christine's description of the bachelor. "Dru seems quite taken by him."
Christine looked at her friend with round eyes. Was she thinking of arranging a match between Drusilla and Mr Felton? She watched the couple as they played against Lady Kate and the Vicomte in a game of whist. Drusilla pointed to one of her cards nodded and then giggled at something Mr Felton said.
"They do make a striking couple, don't they?" Christine asked with a soft smile. "You think we should encourage them?"
Daphne laughed. "I already have! Who do you think arranged the tables for whist?"
Christine shook her head in mock despair.
"Now, dear, tell me, what do you think of Raoul?"
Christine choked on her tea and required Daphne to pound her back. She was prepared for questions about Lord Erik. She was not expecting her friend to question her about the Frenchman.
"I could not say, Daph. I have not had much opportunity to speak to him. He did escort me into the drawing room this evening."
"And?"
She shrugged. "He is very amiable."
"Lord Erik is more than amiable," Daphne retorted. "He is the heir presumptive to his brother's title."
Christine blushed at her Daphne's comment. Yes, Erik was more than amiable.