The Phantom of the Regency
A/N: I've had a bit of trouble loading this chapter, so I'll be posting it in two parts. Thank you all for your reviews, and a very special thank you to my beta for her Latin translation. Enjoy this extra long chapter!
To London, to London - Part I
Christine returned from the dinner room with Raoul to feel a set of eyes on her. She swallowed nervously at the unseen observer who was willing her to look at him or her and asked Raoul to fetch another glass of champagne. Perhaps she was just being overly anxious and little drink would calm her nerves.
She giggled as another glass of bubbles went straight to her head. She was certainly feeling more relaxed now. The feeling of being watched was not quite so overwhelming.
"Lady Erik, I think you have had enough to drink," Raoul said carefully as he tried to remove the glass from her hand.
"No, Raouly. I am not drunk; I'm happy." She slapped him playfully and with a little more force than was accepted with her fan. "Do you know how long it has been since I was happy?"
Raoul was saved the necessity of responding when the orchestra began to play a waltz.
"Ooh! I love the waltz, come and dance with me, Raoul!"
"No, my lady; you cannot. Let me take you out on to the terrace for some air."
Christine giggled and allowed Raoul to take her outside into the cool night air. "Some air?"
Erik was furious. He had entered the ballroom, hoping to walk in, collect his wife and return home. However his hopes were quickly dashed when the host's butler announced Lord Erik Heaton in a loud, clear voice which reached the far side of the room. As one, the guests looked up to see the masked lord for the first time in London society.
Erik uncomfortably wandered through the press of people, searching for Christine. When he saw her on the arm of the little French aristocrat, he was overcome by a wave of violent jealousy. He wanted to pull Christine from his arm and put a bullet through the man.
She was acting like a Cyprian the way she was giggling and standing far too close to the Vicomte. When he got her into the carriage he would – He saw the champagne flute in her hand. She was drunk! That bloody useless boy. He could not even prevent a woman from drinking too much.
A dowager with a red turban and matching plume moved out of the way and for the first time in a month, Christine saw her husband.
"Lady Erik," Erik greeted Christine stiffly when he finally joined the couple. He held his arm out to Christine with a dark look; she had no choice but to take it. She shook her head, but wisely held her tongue.
"Dear, it is late; come, we'll go home. Christine, you are overtired."
At the Frog's encouraging nod, Christine reluctantly stepped away and took her husband's arm. She allowed Erik to steer her to the carriage on unsteady feet and assist her into the vehicle, all the while watching the little peer head to the card room. Erik had expected her to giggle the entire way home but found that within minutes she was dozing against the squabs.
Erik scooped her in his arms and carried her up the front stairs of her mother's townhouse. He was thankful it was one in the morning and not one in the afternoon. They would be the talk of the gossipmongers if anyone saw the masked man carrying his drunken wife up the stairs to her townhouse.
The butler held the door open for them, his face properly impassive.
"Where is Lady Erik's bedroom?"
"Up-up stairs - it is the second room on the right, sir."
Erik was striding up the stairs and was at the landing when he paused. "Tell her ladyship's maid to come and dress her for bed."
He had learnt that keeping Christine at a distance was not wise for either of them. Because he was so determined to keep her away from him, he had lost his wife. He did not think she would appreciate discovering that he had undressed her. No, best leave that for the maid and in the morning, he would begin to court his wife.
Christine woke the next morning and groaned when she heard Quintin and the maid come in.
"Eat your toast," Quintin ordered as she fluffed the pillows around Christine. "You will feel better when you have something in your stomach. His lordship is breakfasting this very moment downstairs." She crossed to the dressing room and pulled out a yellow and a blue morning dress for Christine to assess. "Which one this morning, ma'am?"
Christine moaned again. "Just pick one that will make me look as though I was not run over by a horse last night!"
Quintin chuckled to herself as she pulled out a pink dress. His lordship liked seeing his bride in pink. It would put some colour in her cheeks.
A while and a bit of rouge later, Christine made her way down to the breakfast room. She had learnt her lesson never to drink so much. She hoped she would be able to face her husband without going bright red with shame.
When she entered, Erik stood and smiled warmly at her. He quickly crossed to the door and assisted her into her chair then arranged a plate for her. He was going to take her to task for drinking so much, but when he saw the disgrace in her eyes, he decided against it. She would punish herself more than he ever could.
Christine and Erik had a quiet breakfast while Mrs Daaé was sleeping peacefully above stairs. Christine placed her cutlery neatly in the middle of her plate and pushed her chair away from the table. She smiled stiffly at her husband as he also stood. She was walking briskly to the door, when Erik stayed her.
"Where are you going?"
"I am going out; I have a meeting which I cannot break." She turned away from him and stomped upstairs to collect her bonnet and gloves. She was piqued that her husband had not asked to join her. If he had asked, she would have said 'no'. If he had told her his reasons for coming to London or if he told her that he loved her or missed her, then perhaps her response would have been different.
Christine reached the bottom of the stairs and waited for the carriage to be brought round. Erik was standing across the foyer – in the doorway to the breakfast room – watching his wife. He had spent over a sennight travelling after his wife who for some reason had tucked herself away in the middle of the city. He wondered if she knew what it took him to go to that crush of a ball last night in search of her. There was only one reason why he had done it.
The butler opened the front door, and Christine started forward, expecting the carriage to be waiting at the front of the house. The butler announced Lord de Chagny. Christine offered him a smile that did not make her eyes glow. Erik glared at the green boy.
"Lady Erik! I am pleased to see you looking so well this morning!" Raoul greeted Christine brightly as he handed the butler his hat and gloves. "I was afraid you'd feel a little under the weather."
"Lord de Chagny, how fortunate you have arrived. I was hoping you would not forget that you have promised to escort me to Bond Street," Christine said airily.
She had no intention of going shopping this morning, but now that she had spoken in anger she was forced to make a stop and purchase a new bonnet or something equally unnecessary and frivolous. Not that a lady could never have too many hats, she thought with a smile. Annoyed at herself and her attempt to show her husband how little his presence in London bothered her, she was forced to rearrange her day and visit the school in the afternoon.
The butler – from his unobtrusive position by the door – surveyed the scene with interest. He had been trying to calm the talk below stairs about Miss Daaé – now Lady Erik, he corrected himself – and her peculiar relationship with her husband. Her decision to return to London after only a month of marriage was not lost on any of the staff.
He glanced at Lady Erik who was looking uncertainly at her masked husband and then with a false smile she often used on uninvited guests at the young Frenchman. Lord Erik was watching his wife carefully – refusing to give the annoying boy a moment of his time. Then there was the young Frenchman who was standing just in the doorway looking at the lady intently in a way much like a puppy looks at his owner.
Raoul smiled charmingly as he offered Lady Erik his arm. Christine was very aware of Erik silently bristling from the opposite side of the room as she stepped over to her escort.
She turned and bade farewell to her husband, promising to be home in time for tea.
Christine secured her earring and glanced at her mirror to assess her reflection. Tonight, for the second night after Erik's return, she was planing to attend a ball in Raoul's company.
She had returned from shopping and her visit to the school to find Quintin packing her trunks. When questioned, she told her mistress that his lordship had decided that they would be relocating to a hotel within London. Erik had arranged two rooms for the duration of his stay in the city.
"He did not say why he wished it, ma'am," Quintin informed her softly as she continued to fold dresses.
Christine sniffed as she sank down onto her stool and toed off her shoes. "He probably plans to make it difficult for Raoul to find me. He is such a possessive man!"
If keeping his wife from her lover entered Erik's mind it was one of several reasons he had decided to leave the Mayfair house. He was not staying in a different building to his wife; but nor would he stay with his mother-in-law. He still had not forgiven her for the dressing down she gave him after she caught him alone with Christine.
Erik stood behind his wife, glaring down at her in frustration when he saw she was dressed to go out. It seemed obvious to him, that if he journeyed to London he would have a reason – such as not being able to think of anything but her. However, despite her intelligence, it seemed that Christine lacked logic.
In his room next to hers, Erik had planned to beg her to come home to Cornwall and be his wife. He wanted what they shared for those two idyllic weeks. What was verbalised however was very different.
"I assume that that dolt is escorting you to whatever soirée you are attending?" Christine nodded. "Make sure you do not drink too much champagne; I have no desire to read in the paper that my wife is behaving as a bird of paradise."
Christine flushed dark red at his insulting words but said nothing. She rose from her stool and looked at him. She wanted to scream at him for keeping her away from him. She wanted that easy friendship they had discovered during the house party.
She opened her mouth her mouth to confess everything – and to tell him that she loved him – when a rap on the door stopped her.
"Raoul must be here. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow. Good night." She left the room with a swish of her silk skirts and missed the pained look that twisted half of Erik's face.
Christine entered the private parlour for luncheon with her husband and placed her reticule, her bonnet and a small leather bound book on the table by her side. Erik said nothing to her during the meal. She would often find him looking at her in a way that made her heart stop and her breathing become shallow. Then she would find him looking at her small pile of belongings as though they had offended him somehow.
He had heard of couples arranging assignations in the most unusual and innocent of places. Perhaps de Chagny had convinced her to join him in the lending library and she was pretending to return a book to add to the charade.
When Christine stood up and prepared to leave, Erik could not hold back the angry question as to her plans.
"I am going to my literary group meeting."
Erik looked ashamedly at his wife. His imaginings of her carrying on in public were for naught – she was going to her book meeting. He knew how much she enjoyed it and knew she would not be using it as an excuse. Christine was not capable of such duplicity.
"May I join you?" he asked, swallowing his pride. "I should like to meet the ladies you speak so highly of."
Christine looked at him thoughtfully as if she suspected he had another motivation. "Have you read Shakespeare's sonnets?"
Erik grinned and nodded. "All one hundred and fifty-four… several times."
Christine smiled shyly as she took the arm he offered. In addition to drawing and singing, her husband was evidently an admirer of the Bard. The meeting would definitely be interesting with the ladies and the only man – her husband.
The literary meeting went far better than both Erik and Christine had hoped. There, Christine encountered Lady Poppy and the two fell into lively a conversation. It was typical of the ladies to arrive upwards of thirty minutes early to gossip and chat before the meeting officially started.
"What are you doing here in London?" Christine demanded as she pulled Poppy over into a quiet corner of the room.
"My father had to come to town on business so I pleaded for him to allow me to join him. Mrs Walter wrote a letter of introduction to Mrs Charlemagne and asked that I be allowed to join the meeting while I was in town. I am very excited about the meeting; I did not sleep much last night.
"I am so relieved I met some of the ladies while in the country; I would have hated to know no one at my first meeting!" Poppy paused as she flicked a quick glance between Erik and Christine.
She had noticed the way that Erik kept a very proprietorial – or possessive – hand on the small of his wife's back as he spoke to Mrs Charlemagne. She leant into Christine and whispered, "I am very pleased that you and Lord Erik had resolved your differences."
Christine frowned in confusion.
"I could not help but notice the way you both watched each other at Daphne's ball. You both seemed very reluctant to approach the other. I assume that whatever the problem was has now been fixed."
Christine blinked. She was not aware that she had been so obvious as she watched Erik that night. She sought about for something to say to change the subject. Erik shifted at her side and Christine belatedly remembered her manners and introduced her friend to her husband.
"I'm sorry I was not able to make your acquaintance at Mrs Walter's ball. I would like to congratulate you both on your marriage," Poppy said with a becoming blush.
The meeting began and the hour passed quickly and pleasantly for both Erik and Poppy. Mrs Charlemagne was more than attentive to Lord Erik and his interest in his wife's activities. At the end of the meeting, she had made them both promise to call on her the very next day. She was eager to know Christine's husband better.
The next morning Christine tentatively knocked on Erik's door and waited for him to allow her to enter. She pushed open the door and saw him perusing her copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. She wondered what had happened to her book; now she knew.
"I have to go out. You're welcome to come with me," she offered in a nervous rush. "I have just sent for the carriage; I will be waiting in the parlour until it is prepared. I'm sure my children would like to meet you." Her eyes twinkled brilliantly as she added her saucy comment.
Christine opened the door and left Erik's room. The last thing she saw as she descended the stairs was Erik's confused expression. She settled herself in the parlour a moment later waiting for her carriage… and her husband.
The door opened and Erik entered looking very dashing as usual. Christine sighed. She had not realised how much she enjoyed seeing him casually dressed until she had seen him dressed for the city. She loved the way his informal clothes softened his face. He seemed to be so at ease in the country dressed in his buckskin breeches. She missed that Erik.
"You look lovely, my lady," Erik greeted her when he joined her on the settee and raised her hand to his lips.
She watched entranced as his lips lightly brushed her gloved hand. "Thank you, my lord," she replied shyly. She could still feel his lips on the back of her hand, and the thrills spreading through her body.
His pale eyes held Christine's until she felt herself drown in them. She shifted closer to him on the seat and continued to gaze at him. She moistened her lips and her eyes drifted shut for a moment in a silent invitation to kiss her.
The sound of a knock on the door destroyed the magical spell that had them under its control.
"Sir, ma'am, your carriage be waiting."
Christine felt like stomping her feet at the maid's untimely interruption. She was certain Erik was about to kiss her – it would be her first kiss! The little peck on the corner of her mouth he gave her at their wedding could not be considered at kiss. Nor could those few stolen kisses during the course of her Seasons. Erik seemed to be taking an interest in her for the first time since they were married. Yes, things had improved considerably since she left Cornwall and she did not want anyone to get in the way.
She loved her husband, and had done so since the very first week of Daphne's house party. That was why she left him; because she could not bear him treating her so coldly when she loved him so dearly.
Christine knew his fear of going about in Society with his mask and what it cost Erik to come to London. She smiled as she recalled being carried up to her chamber in Erik's arms a few nights ago. She was certain that Erik loved her.
Christine nodded her head as she grasped Erik's hand and pulled him out the door. She winked at the footman as he bowed to her. In an instant, Christine and Erik were in the carriage and on their way out of St. James'.