Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things Pride and Prejudice, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.
AN: I know, it was kind of stupid and quick the way I got rid of Christine, but I thought a bit more conflict in the story would make it interesting towards the end. Even though Christine's out of the way, however, there's still one more hurdle left for Erik and Belle to jump. Read on, and please review at the end! Thanks!
Chapter 21: When Things Come Full Circle:
The day after Christine's untimely appearance, I woke feeling marvelous. Erik had indeed lived up to his promise of showing the depths of his feelings for me, and as a result, we had both been up quite late. From the faint slant of sunlight coming into the room, it had to be late morning, or possibly noon. No doubt Grandmama would be wondering where we were.
'Or possibly not,' I thought with a smile. After all, she had been the one to give us a suite of rooms some distance in the back of the house, away from the servants and her own quarters.
Closing my eyes, I felt a light pressure against my stomach and sighed in contentment. As was his habit, Erik slept most of the night with his arm around my waist or shoulders, depending on how we both fell asleep. I think it was because he feared I would run away in the night, though I had been doing my best to persuade him that would never happen.
A flurry of knocks on the bedroom door jolted me awake, sending me sitting bolt upright in an instant. Well, it would have, had Erik's arm not been around me, pinning me down to the bed. Beside me, he stirred and growled in annoyance.
"I thought your grandmother and I had ordered them not to interrupt us while we were still abed," he grumbled, burying his face in the space between the pillows and my hair.
I reached up and slowly petted his hair, an act that sometimes soothed him, though I also did it for my own benefit. Erik had the most luscious black hair I had ever seen, and one of my most favorite things was to comb my fingers through it. From the almost purring sound he made when I did, I think he enjoyed it as well.
Pressing a kiss to his temple, I noted that he was mumbling in French and chuckled. "It must be important for them to interrupt our rest," I whispered to him. "We should get up."
"No," he said, raising his head. "They should wait until we are ready for them, and I am most certainly not ready to receive visitors, guests, or anyone else right now."
There was an angry pout on his lips, which I thought adorable. Leaning forward, I gave a quick kiss even as I giggled at his frustration. He attempted to return and deepen the kiss, but I pulled away before he could. Again his pouted, clearly in a vain attempt to bring another kiss to him.
I shook my head. "I'll dress and see what it is they want."
He sighed and collapsed back into the pillows of the bed, muttering curses under his breath. I simply laughed and went to dress.
Despite his frustration at being woken up, Erik was ready by the time I emerged from my dressing room. I had chosen a pale peach muslin dress, with a slightly darker sash wound around my waist. Peach ribbons were woven into my hair, and I added a touch of perfume to freshen the air round me as I moved. Erik liked it when I wore perfume.
Speaking of my husband, he was dressed in a light coat of pale gold, with matching breeches and light brown leather boots. The rest of his clothing was white or a shade darker than his coat, which set off his dark looks and green eyes beautifully. I told him so, and smiled as he preened.
"You look lovely, just as you always do, my dearest," Erik commented, reaching out to take my hand in his and bring it to his lips.
I giggled as he led me to the door and opened it. In our private parlor was a flustered manservant, who had a distressed look on his face.
"Mr. and Mrs. Laurent," he said, quickly hiding his feelings behind a polite mask. "Lady Charlotte is much desirous to see the two of you at once. Apparently a message from your father, Lord Woodworth, has arrived, and she is eager to share the contents with you."
Almost instantaneously, I could feel the blood drain from my face the same moment Erik wrapped a strong arm around my waist, holding me up when I would have fainted. The servant looked alarmed and worried, possibly afraid that he had caused me to become ill from distress. Erik saw the man's expression and waved for him to keep back.
"My wife is merely shocked at the message you've brought her," he said, keeping his voice calm but firm. "Please tell Lady Charlotte that we will be down in half an hour, once my wife has recovered."
Relieved, the servant bowed and fled as fast as he could while still looking dignified. Had I not be so fearful of my father's letter, I would have laughed at the sight. As it was, however, I was fortunate I had not fainted in sight of a servant, which would have been quite embarrassing.
A strong arm encircled my waist and another went under my knees as Erik lifted me into a bridal style carry hold, his feet hurrying us to the nearest couch. There he gently set me down before rushing off, returning moments later with a damp, cool cloth for my head. He folded it, placed it atop my forehead, and softly pressed his hand there to keep it from moving about.
Kneeling at my side, Erik looked at me with great concern as he whispered, "Are you alright? Do you need anything? Some wine to steady your nerves, or should I ring for a maid to bring you something?"
I couldn't help but smile at him. "I'm fine," I assured him, placing a hand on his arm to try and sooth him as he was trying with me. "It was just a shock, that's all. I'm sure I'll be well very soon, and then we can go talk to Grandmama about the letter she received from Papa."
It did not take me long to recover from my shock, and within twenty minutes, Erik was escorting me to my grandmother's parlor, where a servant announced us and showed us in. Grandmama was seated on a chair near the fireplace, and wore a deep violet gown, which made her silver-gold hair glitter beautifully. Purple feathers as long as my finger decorated the carefully pinned up curls, giving my grandmother a look of elegance and beauty, even in her advanced age.
As we entered, she greeted us with a warm smile and asked us to sit, which we did. Since Erik and I had not had breakfast, a lovely tea was brought in, along with all sorts of Italian pastries filled with all sorts of things, such as fruit, meat, vegetables, or cream. Although I was nervous about my father's letter, I managed to eat and drink something, though it was mostly for Erik's sake, since he was watching me rather closely, obviously afraid that I might swoon into a faint at any moment.
The dishes were cleared away after we finished, and then we three were alone. When the door finally swung shut behind the maids, Grandmama gave me one of her famous intense looks.
"Annabelle, darling, I must tell you that I wrote a message to your father some weeks ago, and have finally received a reply," she said outright. "Apparently he, and to a lesser degree, your mother, desires you to return to Huntington Hall as soon as you are ready to travel."
Once again, I went pale. "Papa wishes for me to return to England?" I whispered, unsure as to whether I had heard correctly. "He has forgiven me for eloping with Erik?"
Grandmama waved her hand, seeming to brush aside my words. "Yes, yes, he has forgiven you, and probably did so the moment he got over his surprise and anger at your actions, which probably lasted about five minutes. When shall you write him about going to England?"
Erik and I looked at one another, unsure as how to proceed. "It might be best if you wrote to him, beloved," he said softly. "You are his daughter, after all."
I looked over at my grandmother. "Do you not think it would be best if you wrote him?" I pleaded. "You are his mother, and he will listen to you, as will Mama, who rarely listens to anyone."
Grandmama looked thoughtful. "Yes, perhaps you are right," she admitted. "Catherine always was difficult, to say the least, and if you were to write to your parents, I have no doubt a rather scathing reply would be made on her behalf. No, you are right, Belle. I will write to your parents and tell them that you will be going to England in a month or so. Will that do?"
It most certainly would.
From that day forward, both Erik and I were very anxious as we awaited my parents' reply to Grandmama's letter. We tried to attend dances, balls, parties, and the theater, but these all failed to distract us. The only comfort we had was each other. Erik tried to do his best to sooth me, and in his attempts, I discovered many things about him that I had not known before.
Erik was a musician and an artist.
First, he had displayed his musical talents. It had happened one evening when I was not feeling well and desired to stay home, tucked away from the outside world. Grandmama had left to attend a gathering of her friends, leaving Erik and I alone with the servants.
We had been in the room that served as both a library and music room in the house. Tired of reading a novel I had no interest in, I had become bored and in need of something to fill the echoing silence of the house. I jokingly voiced my complaint to my husband, who had been sitting on a chair, and almost at once, Erik rose from his seat and moved towards the piano, sitting down upon the long bench and stretching his fingers out upon the keys.
And then, beautiful music filled the air around me, lulling me into a light doze from which Erik had to wake me from an hour later.
After that, he played whenever he thought I was troubled or needed a distraction. Sometimes he would even sing or hum in a deep, soulful voice that sounded as though it belonged in the theater with thousands listening to it. I thought it wonderful that he could play and sing, and Erik told me he had learned from his former nurse and governess, Antoinette Giry, who was presently ruling the Laurent estate in his absence.
"She thought I should be a bit more educated than other men, and had me instructed in art as well," he said one night, after we had gone to bed. "I can also paint, draw, and if forced to, sculpt a rough image or two, but those will be for your eyes alone, my darling."
I thought it wonderful that he had such abilities, since mine were so lacking. I played reasonably well, but could not draw or paint at all, and told him so. Erik merely blushed and said that his skills were not remarkable, but I insisted that he practice his painting and drawing instead of allowing them to go to waste. In the end, he agreed, but only if his work was of me, and I found myself the reluctant model of my husband's art.
Days passed by much easier after this. For several weeks, Erik and I spent much of our time together, Erik either painting or drawing images of me while I sat and played the obedient model. We would talk, laugh, joke, and tease one another for hours, only stopping for meals and the occasional rest period, so that I could move my legs and Erik rest his hands. I would later discover that all of his finished paintings or drawings were sent to his estate in France, with instructions to place at least once piece in each room of the house.
We were having such fun that we forgot all about the letter we were expecting until the day it arrived.
Glancing over towards his wife, Erik reached over and took her hand in his, an act that immediately drew her attention to him. She gave a hesitant smile, then returned to looking out the carriage window, her face pale in the golden sunshine.
Belle's distant behavior worried her husband. She had been like this since receiving that message from her father several months ago, and it had taken a great deal of effort on Erik's part to keep her distracted and happy.
On that day, Erik had been in the midst of finishing a portrait of his wife when a servant tapped on the door of the little morning room, which Lady Charlotte had given to him for his work. They had been summoned to Grandmother Charlotte's private sitting room, as a message from Huntington Hall had just arrived.
Belle had instantly looked ill, and as he led her upstairs, Erik believed that the support of his arms around her was the only thing preventing his wife from collapsing on the stairs.
The moment they had entered Lady Charlotte's room, Erik and Belle had immediately been told that Lord Woodworth would be expecting them in less than two month's time.
"Apparently your father is eager to see you and meet your new husband," stated Lady Charlotte as she looked upon her granddaughter's pale face. "You are to leave on the next ship bound for England, and after you land in London, you are to send a message to your father and he will send his carriage for you both."
And so it was. Three days later, they were at sea, and a month or so after that, they landed in London. Much to Erik's surprise, although the voyage had been mostly pleasant, Belle had been incredibly ill during their travels. She was always pale and nauseous, kept little food down, and slept a great deal. Ellis, who was traveling with them along with Nadir, refused to leave her mistress's side, and constantly had to chase Erik out of his own cabin when she felt he was interfering with her helping Belle regain her health.
They had landed in London on a cool, foggy morning, which Belle didn't seem to mind, claiming that the chill and fog helped clear her head. The moment they set foot on solid ground, Erik had led them to the nearest fine inn and settled his poor wife into a decent bed with her maid by her side.
It had taken Belle three days to fully recover, and when she did, Erik was sure it was mere nervousness that caused her to look so pale. After all, here the four of them were, riding in a carriage sent from Huntington Hall for their comfort, and it didn't look as though anyone was enjoying themselves.
Right now, though, after hours of travel, they were finally arriving at the house known as Huntington Hall. As the carriage pulled up to the front of the grand house, Erik was surprised to see a large gathering of people there to meet them. Servants, of course, two long rows of them fanning around their masters and mistress in several neat rows. It seemed as though every servant available was here to see them. And, of course, the Woodworth family was there as well.
Meanwhile, Belle actually seemed to have recovered a bit of color back in her cheeks. She even lowered one of the windows in order to slip her head out and wave frantically at someone on the front steps, a young man who appeared to be trying to dislocate his shoulder in order to give them a warm welcome.
"Belle, what are you doing?" Erik blurted out in shock.
She turned to look at him, though she kept her head out the window. "It's Nathan!" she said, as though it explained everything.
He looked at Ellis, who grinned. "Her younger brother," the maid replied to his silent question.
Oh. Well, that certainly explained everything.
With a slight jerk, they halted before the grand steps that led up to the doorway. The tall man dressed finely in aristocratic clothes could only be Erik's father-in-law, Robert Woodworth. He resembled a young Henry VIII, in that he had red hair, fair skin, and was quite tall and fit for a man of his age. To Erik's relief, Lord Woodworth had a warm, welcoming smile on his face, openly declaring his honest and pure joy at seeing his daughter again.
Beside him was a dark haired, dark eyed, petite woman that must be Belle's mother. She had a touch of exoticness to her face, which managed to even out the cool, slightly severe look and air she bore. The deep blue dress she wore did nothing to soften her looks.
Finally, the brown haired, brown eyed young man with a broad grin on his face had to be Belle's beloved younger brother, Nathaniel. She had rarely spoken of him to Erik, but he knew it was mostly from the pain of possibly never seeing him again. From the distant look she got whenever she thought of her brother, it was clear that Belle loved him very much, and missed his company.
The footman opened the door to the carriage and bowed them out, though Erik was sure that he had just given Belle a sly wink as Erik assisted her out of the carriage. He also saw her amused smile and slight nod, which he took to mean that this was a long-standing joke between them, and let it go.
"Belle!" cried Nathaniel as he raced forward, ignoring his mother's protests to be civil.
Releasing his wife's hand, Erik stepped back and watched as his wife reunited with her family.
Sighing, I leaned back on the large bed, looking around the room provided for me and my husband by my parents. It was a suite of rooms, actually, one that I had never been permitted in before, since Mama always feared something valuable would be broken by her wayward children.
It was in the usual modest English style of muted colors, with pale blue and white in the drawing room, and a dull gold with white in the bedroom. It was very calming, and I welcomed it, though I was sure I would be missing the vibrant Italian rooms of Grandmama's house soon enough.
Giving another sigh, I thought back to my reunion with my parents and brother. After Nathaniel's enthusiastic greeting, Papa had joined him in giving me a welcoming kiss and hug, whispering into my ear how much he had missed me these months past. I pressed a kiss to his cheek in agreement.
Mama's greeting was slightly colder, but she said nothing too scathing as she came to welcome me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Erik watching my mother very closely, and thought that he would do or say something harsh. He did not have to, however, as the intensity of his gaze seemed to force my mother's words into the back of her throat.
After that, things only became better for us. Papa rushed us into the house, the servants took our outdoor clothing while Ellis and Nadir ran upstairs to unpack our belongings, and then Erik and I were shown into the bright morning room, which was filled with sunshine and the scent of fresh flowers that were set about in lovely vases.
Once the greetings were done with, we sat there, drinking tea, lemonade, or water and nibbling through trays of light food as we talked about everything that had happened since I left for London. I was informed of local gossip and news, and how things were with my family in London. It turned out that they were all well, despite my elopement; Aunt Josephine had fainted, and Sir James had been furious, but since they discovered my marriage was to a French marquis, they quickly returned to their old selves.
Later that day, as Papa and Nathaniel went on and on about how wonderful it was that I had come back to Huntington, Mama looked as though she desired to scold me for running away and not writing to her and Papa first about Erik's proposal. However, with Erik there, she did not do so. I think that perhaps he intimidated her a little, the way Fitzwilliam Darcy did before he had met and married Elizabeth. I know that with one little glance, both Darcy and Erik could halt people mid-sentence and cause them to turn away from them, flustered and a tad bit frightened of them. It was the sort of thing that would serve us well while we were here.
After Erik and I had explained what had happened from the point of our elopement to our return to England, we were shown to our rooms and told to rest, for there would be plenty of time to talk in the morning. I was never so relieved to be alone again with my husband, who did everything he could to make me comfortable and happy in our new accommodations.
The next morning onwards, life at Huntington went even better than when I had first lived there. Mama, who was still a bit intimidated by Erik's tall, dark and mysterious presence, kept her opinions to herself, especially after learning of his heritage and titles. After all, a marquis is still a marquis, whether he is French or English.
Papa had instantaneously accepted us back into his good graces, and was delighted to have me home again. Anticipating my moving to France with Erik, Papa was able to have me to promise to visit at least twice a year. I was more than happy to give my word to that, particularly since he and Erik got along so well. I think my husband would be more than happy to visit England for Christmas, for the sake of family. Erik told me that he had met few men as warm and accepting as my father, and that he respected Papa very much for that.
"For he is not only kind, he is a fine, exceptional man and master of his house," he said to me one night. "And I believe your brother will turn out much like him, which speaks a great deal as to his parenting skills."
As for Nathaniel, who had always wanted an elder brother, both he and Erik were friends immediately. As an only child who had been orphaned early in life, Erik had been quite lonely growing up, and had now been pushed into the roll of elder sibling. I often spotted Nathan pulling Erik aside to ask for advice about things he was probably too embarrassed to talk to Papa about, and thought it a good thing that they were forming such a good friendship with one another. It made them both open their hearts a bit, and that could only help them become more comfortable in the world.
"Beloved?" called Erik through the door, his voice full of concern. "Are you awake?"
I had been feeling rather tired and a bit poorly lately, alarming my poor husband to no end. He had had my father summon a doctor today, after I had been unable to keep my breakfast down, and had left me alone to sleep before and after my examination. I would have thought he would stay to interrogate the doctor as to what was wrong, but instead he had gone out on horseback to try and steady his nerves with a good horseback ride.
"Come in," I called back.
The door gently opened and Erik slipped inside, the mask on his face doing little to hide his worry. Moving slowly and carefully, he joined me on the bed, stretching out beside and slightly above me so that he could look down into my eyes.
"What did the doctor say was wrong?" he softly pressed, his voice full of anxiety. "You are not very ill, are you? Perhaps that time at sea was not good for you and we should travel by land in order to return to Italy."
Smiling, I reached up and touched the smooth side of his face with my hand, thankful that my family had not mentioned his mask even once during our visit. That would surely have made my poor Erik suffer, though the news I had for him would surely raise his spirits straight into the heavens.
"My dear, there is nothing wrong with me," I assured him, unable to keep the joy from my voice. "It is only natural that a woman feel ill when she is with child."
Green eyes stared at me for a moment, right before he leaned down and pressed a sweet, loving kiss to my lips.
Oh, Lord in Heaven, she was with child! He was going to become a father! How was it possible for a man to be this happy in his life?
'We shall return to Paris at once,' Erik thought as he kissed his wife repeatedly and began humming her to sleep. 'We shall send our apologies to Lady Charlotte about not returning to Italy, though I'm sure she will forgive us, once she knows about her great-grandchild.'
As Belle drifted off to dreams, Erik looked down at her and gazed longingly at her stomach. He truly could not wait to watch his English rose burst into bloom as the child within her grew. Placing his hand on his sleeping wife's belly, he knew it would be a glorious sight indeed.
AN: The epilogue will be up soon, I promise. Oh, and keep an eye open for my next Phantom story involving not only Erik, but the fantastic members of the Justice League! It'll be a modern fic, but it'll still have our beloved Phantom doing what he does best. (winks) In the meantime, please be kind and review! Thanks!