Chapter 4
The stage coach was cold, despite the amount of people crammed into it. Charlotte felt sorry for the horses more than for the drivers, who no doubt kept a nip of brandy in a handy container to keep out the cold.
The cold only crept up on her occasionally when she lapsed out of her thoughts due to someone coughing or the coach stopping. Her thoughts were focused on her task ahead. She was not going to allow herself to be worried about her son. She felt he was going to be in safe hands for now, until she found her husband that is.
She knew that the Viscount would honour her request and keep him safe for her from her family. She had understood Raoul, the Viscount, to be an honourable gentleman and he had given his word. Besides, a murder of a member of his staff would be most scandalous and she knew that no-one liked a scandal. This is what she had hoped at least.
She was now perusing her latest clue as to where Erik could have gone after he had left the Opera house. It had come from a meeting with an old acquaintance she thought that she would never see again, but necessity had compelled her to do so and she had made the pilgrimage to the house where her enquiries had informed her of where this person lived.
She had stood at the foot of the steps that lead to the door and hesitated. After all these years and everything that had happened, what could she expect? She held her breath as she ascended the worn grey steps and brought down the knocker onto the door twice in rapid succession. She exhaled.
A moment passed and Charlotte remained stood in front of the door, her eyes staring straight ahead and not focusing on anything at all. She heard a series of clicks and knocking sounds and the door suddenly swung open inwardly.
There she was and she had hardly changed. Charlotte's eye's widened and her mouth opened to say something that refused to come out. The woman that stood before her mirrored her expression and both had stood in the doorway for a short moment that felt like an eternity.
Charlotte was the first to break the trance of astonishment "I" she began, but hesitated. She had not given much thought as to what to say if she finally met her again. Her mouth closed again and she raised her gloved hands to form an expression of not being able to find the right words.
The woman before her, seeing her floundering took the initiative to end the awkwardness. She took a few steps forward and embraced Charlotte. Both women stood there with the wind howling about them and ruffling their skirts as they embraced. Charlotte closed her eyes tightly, firmly believing that when she opened them she would discover that this was a dream.
"Annette" whispered Charlotte, her voice quavering "I cannot believe it".
The other woman pulled away from the other woman gently and took her by the upper arms.
"I cannot believe it is you Charlotte, after all of these years! I thought you were dead!" exclaimed Annette. She shook her head, looking Charlotte up and down like a new piece of exquisite art work.
Both women went inside, both completely wrapped up in curiosity and both with so many questions to ask the other. Annette pulled Charlotte into a sitting room and bid her to take a seat whilst she arranged for some refreshment. Already present in the small but comfortable room was a woman who was sat by the window at the far end. She had been reading a book but now looked up at Charlotte who was smiling politely back at her and nodded.
"Bonjour, prenez svp un siège, mère sera de retour actuellement" said the lady, still smiling and gesturing with her hand towards the vacant seats about the hearth.
"Merci" replied charlotte who had raised her hand to her face to see if it felt as hot as she thought, for it must have been flushed.
The woman by the window looked down at her book and continued to read, the stranger held no more interest for her. Charlotte perceived this and decided to remove her hat, shawl and gloves, placing them next to her as she sat. Annette entered the room and took a seat opposite Charlotte, with a slightly bemused look upon her face.
"I still cannot believe it is you!" she began, leaning forwards and taking Charlotte's hands. "You were dead to us all, all these years! Oh Charlotte! So much has happened with me and the opera house and of course with" she looked down at Charlotte's hands briefly, as if to muster some courage to say her next word "Erik". Charlotte smiled warmly at her hostess.
"Do not worry on that score. I have heard enough rumours from what happened with Christine Daae. It was only in the past few months though that these stories reached me and I resolved to find out if they were true. So we packed up our belongings and set out for France to see what we could find. I've heard so many differing stories, Annette, now I want to hear from your lips what actually happened so that I may decide what to do next." Charlotte had finished speaking but noticed a puzzled look on Annette's face.
"What is it?" she asked.
"We? Who is your companion?"
Charlotte sighed. They had so much to catch up on and explain and so she endeavoured to do so. She explained everything, from fleeing France, to ending up in Coalcote in the north west of England and having to bring up her son alone. She explained events right up until the present. When she had finished speaking, Annette let go of her hands and sat back in her chair. Her gaze wandered off and she had brought her fingers to a point under her chin as if in contemplation.
Charlotte was the first to break the silence.
"What?" she enquired, leaning as far forward towards her companion as much as she could.
Slowly, Annette shook her head and lowered her eyes.
"All those years" she said bleakly "All alone for all those years. Oh Charlotte, I wish you could have come to me. I would have protected you somehow. Oh dear, dear Charlotte." Tears began to well up in her eyes. Charlotte left her seat and knelt by her side, taking her hands in hers.
"Do not be sad Annette. I have had in my heart enough sorrow for both of us over the years". Charlotte stretched out her arms and held her friend until her tears of empathy and pity wear spent.
She resumed her seat when she felt that Annette was consoled. She turned to look at the woman who was sat at the window to see if she had noticed the conversation or the incident that had just taken place. Charlotte's look was greeted by the woman who held the same expression as Annette had held when she had opened the door. She had put down her book and had turned away from the window to sit straight-on to Charlotte, no doubt to listen to the story.
"Vous êtes celui qu'il a aimé avant Christine? I had no idea. Mere, why did you not tell me of this lady?" said the woman who now was on her feet and approaching the two by the fireplace.
"Charlotte" Annette said, looking away from the approaching figure.
"This is my daughter Margaret" Annette said, raising her hand towards the woman approaching them.
"Meg" corrected the woman who was now sat next to her mother in order that she may observe this new acquaintance.
"Hello Meg. I knew your mother when you were only a young girl. I remember you had long blonde hair then and danced about in the salles de pratique at the opera house."
"I do not remember you" said Meg, narrowing her eyes as if trying to remember something that was proving hard to grasp in her mind.
"I do not think you would have met me more than once of twice if that, but I saw you often, even though I doubt you saw me" Charlotte shrugged her shoulders and smiled.
"Is this because you were with the opera ghost? The one that fell in love with Christine Daae?" Meg enquired.
"Meg!" exclaimed her mother "you are a grown, married woman with three children and act more like a child than your youngest does at times. Restrain your impertinence." Meg looked sheepishly at her mother and then at Charlotte. It was curiosity that had compelled her to forget her graces.
"I apologise" said Meg shyly.
"No, don't be. I would be just as pressing as you, should our roles be reversed. You were friends with Christine I seem to remember, is this not the case now?" Charlotte entreated.
"We were friends, yes, but we see little of each other now. I have three of my own children, as my mother has pointed out and she has four. She is also of rank as well and has some responsibilities now that she cannot neglect. We are not children anymore and I wish her well." She explained, with an air of indifference about her.
Annette tightened her lips together and shifted uneasily in her seat.
"They were like sisters growing up in the ballet corps, then when Christine married Raoul, it was as though that relationship meant little to her, even before she had her first child, Elise and she had some time to spare. Then when Meg married, I suppose, their lives took different paths and they followed them. I just wish that they had remained better friends, that is all." Annette bit her lip and then sighed, placing her hand on Meg's knee for a moment.
A thought that had never stuck Charlotte until that point suddenly hit her and she almost blurted it out but managed to inject enough decorum into to it's execution that her worry seemed over looked when she posed it.
"Was Elise, Christine's eldest child, the daughter of Raoul? I mean – what I meant to say was" she stopped, helpless to continue that trail of thought.
Meg answered her quickly, smiling at the notion put forth.
"Oh no Charlotte! It was more than a year after she married Raoul that she fell pregnant with Elise! She has her mother's slender frame though, which makes her so very elegant. She's tall too, like her father's family. She is a beauty like no other and will make a brilliant match no doubt, when she is debuted, which I believe is no more than a season or two away."
Charlotte smiled broadly, flashing her teeth and let out a quiet laugh, which was reciprocated by the other two.
"Even if Christine had gone back and they had had an affair, this child is certainly her father's daughter and that is the Viscount" laughed Annette.
Charlotte sighed and felt contented, now she must hear about what had happened at the opera house in her absence and discover if there was any information about how she may find her husband. The tea that Annette had arranged arrived and as this was consumed, Annette and Meg relived in as much detail as they possibly could the tale of le fantôme de l'Opéra.
The coach stopped outside the hôtel de ville in a rustic village near Dijon, then sauntered tentatively down the street towards a tavern or inn. Every part of her ached, but the cold had decreased. This was no doubt due to numbness setting in. She alighted the coach because it would remain here for the night now before moving onwards. She still had a long journey to make.