A/N Well it seems my muse came to stay this time! This is a mammoth chapter and was only supposed to be a little inbetweeny one before Ch22 (you'll find out soon enough!) EVIL SMIRK. Anyway, it's pretty long but ALOT needed to happen here to clear the way for what comes next. Enjoy and keep the reviews coming.

Chapter 21

Meg's stomach lurched in horror as she witnessed the transformation taking place for all to see over Federico's shoulder, instantly recognising all the signs of the Phantom, positively murderous and poised to strike at the least provocation. And Marcello was right beside him!

No! Not here!

The look he was singeing the back of Federico's head with was not one she had seen before and one she hoped never to be on the receiving end of. It was terrifyingly intense, white hot and totally unlike the mesmerising Phantom of San Marco and her mother's bedroom and all the other times she had seen him manifest OG before. That was like a tidal wave of warmth that almost poured over her and was not in the least malevolent; it did dangerous things to her heart but was hardly life threatening. But this...this spoke of vengeance and barely restrained violence. It reminded her of the little boys that sat out in the courtyards behind the Populaire in the sun, training a spectacle lens on an unsuspecting insect. It was focused and deadly. Perhaps Buquet had seen it just before the Opera Ghost snuffed him out. She shuddered to think of anything like that happening again and for something so trivial – just a young man trying his luck! She couldn't let it happen; she had to help him find a way out because somehow she knew he wouldn't be able to stop.

Erik NO! Think Meg, THINK!

Rolling one shoulder as if to cast off the unwelcome attentions of the Italian, she quickly groped behind her for Bella's hand. Before the little girl could react, she drew her around in front of her and propelled her forward into her brother's arms taking a step back as she did so.

"I surrender the prisoner Signore, she is all yours!" Guiltily she mouthed her apology to the little girl who was now squirming theatrically in Federico's clutches completely oblivious to the altercation above her head and the deadly intent emanating from her hero on the other side of the courtyard.

Unfortunately her actions had forced Federico to take a step back also and that only brought him closer to his impending doom. Erik was practically salivating now as the Italian obliviously inched closer, his fists pumping at his sides and his left eye narrowing like a lion lining up a hapless gazelle for dinner. For goodness sake this is Venice not the Serengeti!

Marcello had become aware of the change in him too, unable to keep the alarm showing on his face as he stared worriedly at Erik and then back to Meg. He would be just the sort to try and help she thought but if he tried to intervene God only knew what would happen! Meg could only shake her head and toss it to the side motioning for him to move away. He looked a little confused but shrugged in response as if to say "I hope you know what you're doing" then nodded in assent and reluctantly did as she suggested, making his way gingerly back over to his wife and elder daughter. Hopefully the fact that they all thought Erik was decidedly odd would stand to him now and they would chalk it up to nothing more than him being eccentric and overly protective of his friend's daughter.

Now she understood how everything had gotten so out of hand in Paris. She could imagine Erik was unstoppable when he was like this and it was suddenly clear to her how volatile he would have been over the woman he believed he loved; he thought he had been protecting what he considered his. What was his excuse today? It was just her and a young Italian who smiled a bit too much...even if he did make her feel slightly uneasy when he looked at her in that direct way.

Even though Federico was now more than three feet away from her and not even looking in her direction anymore, caught up as he was with Bella's wriggling and accompanying shrieks of mock terror, Erik's arrow like stare stalked his every movement. She had to distract him or he would do something he would forever regret. Catching Erik's eye was proving difficult as all of his attention was focused intently and deliberately on the young man standing in front of her. She couldn't let him get out of hand, not here, not in front of Bella. His protective instinct had kicked in instantly and she knew he would not stop to think of consequences if he thought she was in danger. But she wasn't. She was perfectly capable of dealing with the situation and had done so quite admirably she thought. It wasn't Paris, she wasn't Christine. Erik should be able to see that but then he was reacting as if she had been all but molested in broad daylight. Everything about him was all or nothing. He was incapable of subtlety at any time when he wasn't playing his precious violin.

I'll kill him...I'll wring the presumptuous little weasel's impudent, scheming neck! It stops NOW!

Erik's violent intentions were only fuelling the elevated heartbeat that forced his blood pounding through his veins causing bright spots to dance in front of the only eye he could see out of. A white hot rage flowed to every nerve ending making his skin itch and crawl. For a split second he chanced a glance past his prey to Meg and found her eyes seeking his, beseeching him. Somewhat lightheaded from the ferocity of the anger inside him, it took a second for him to register the silent plea and then he was caught.

Finally!

Holding his gaze Meg shook her head a fraction, imperceptible to all but Erik and held up her right hand, palm forward as discreetly as possible.

Don't.

It was bad enough Marcello had seen his rage without everyone figuring out that she was having to talk him down. She would not do that to him. Fortunately they were all standing behind her now under the pergola – except for Bella and her brother who were still oblivious – so they could only see Erik.

Responding to his confused frown and questioning eyebrow she smiled softly, hoping he would understand her meaning.

I'm alright.

She nodded and smiled again making sure he understood.

Focus on me, nothing else.

It wouldn't do to confuse him at this delicate juncture.

Really, I'm alright...let it go.

For good measure she took an obvious breath and exhaled slowly, nodding and smiling again.

That's it, breathe with me.

Slowly she began to walk towards him. She hadn't been this nervous since the first night she met him – the lion with the thorn. She felt like she was approaching that same wild animal and if she flinched he would pounce. She was damned if she would be the one to look away and betray weakness; the state he was in at the moment required that she be the strong one and she would not let him down.

Taking his cue from Meg, Erik slowly unfurled his fists but still remained in a state of alert should he need to move quickly. His arms and legs tingled from the venom running through his system and he had to blink several times to clear his vision of the white spots that had danced across his eyes. She seemed to be alright, having called a halt to the little rat's subterfuge herself and now she was effectively transmitting silent instructions across the courtyard to him. She was telling him to breathe so he did, strangely powerless to do anything but what she commanded. Slowly and deliberately he dragged in a lungful of air and then shakily let it out again. The more she nodded and smiled the more he breathed until gradually the tingling and dizziness began to recede somewhat. She had stepped back from where Bella stood trapped in her brother's arms and started to move slowly across to him, keeping eye contact all the while, not that he felt able to look away. As she came closer he felt the calm wash over him in gentle waves, smoothing the tension and cooling his blood. It would be alright now.

Incredibly Erik seemed to be obeying her as if in a trance. Meg was desperately relieved it was working and equally fascinated that she had found that kind of power inside her. She had actually held back the Phantom! Of course if she hadn't caught his eye then she dreaded to think what kind of epic disaster could have unfolded. She liked to think he wouldn't have gone so far as to act on the possibly murderous thoughts she suspected had been swirling inside him but she just couldn't be sure and didn't really want to test him. I suppose it means he cares in some way. Otherwise he wouldn't give a fig who made overtures in my direction. But perhaps it was some sort of loyalty to her mother. She didn't care. Even though he could get more than a little intimidating she still felt a little fizz of pleasure that the Phantom came out just for her benefit and even more so that she managed to stand against the powerful combination of emotions that comprised him.

"M..Meg?" Erik had not seen anything to the left or right of her head since she had first sent that silent request and he was still trapped in her eyes like the proverbial moth dancing about a flame. She placed her hand at his elbow and he felt her sure touch dilute some of the dizziness and it was like a soothing balm to the madness coursing through him, much like the cool cloth she had used on his face the night of the fire. She leaned in close and stood on her toes so she could speak without being heard by anyone else.

"It's alright now Sir Galahad. You can stand down; call your armies off. The dragon has been slain! You are terrifying when you get like that you know, but I understand. I'm touched...really. You didn't need to go quite that far though."

"But he was –" He didn't think she understood at all since he barely understood it himself. He only knew that his blood boiled when that youth looked at her. He found himself grinding his teeth again at the unmitigated nerve of it.

"He was just trying his luck and he failed as he was always going to. Thank you though; it's nice to know you would step in if I needed you." She pulled him into motion beside her and began to walk him towards the opposite end of the pergola away from the assembled Pellizzari's. Not quite a white knight but close enough...his heart was in the right place. She had always though the white ones were boring anyhow.

So, she had no interest in the cocky Italian or his ready smiles? Or his sun kissed, smooth, regular features? "I would have hurt him." He still might. God I'm dizzy!

"I know but you didn't. Why don't we go into the shade? It's stifling out here and I really think I ought to sit down." She did need to sit but Erik looked like he would fall over if she let go of his arm having expended a huge amount of energy just being ominous.

From underneath the pergola just outside their back door, Rosa and Marcello exchanged a combination of worried and knowing looks. Rosa had seen the look on the Signore's face when her son had gotten a bit too close to his young companion and correctly interpreted it as far more than the concern he should have as her pseudo guardian. It was blatant male jealousy and as vivid a green as any she had ever seen. She had expected it and yet it was so frighteningly intense that she began to worry that maybe things might get nasty.

Her son had an easy manner and like his father, loved and appreciated women. He was young, handsome and very charming and unfortunately he assumed everyone else thought so too. He had been completely unaware of the undisguised threat being sent him by the Signore and perhaps it was just as well. He would only shrug and laugh it off, probably saying something like "you win some, you lose some." Somehow she didn't think the older man would appreciate his making light of the situation as he himself was taking it very seriously indeed. Federico would learn soon enough. Some young girl would break his heart and he would know to be a bit more cautious and discriminating with his attentions.

She didn't even think he would be too bothered that the little blonde had no interest. He was far too forgiving to take any offence and would be quick to find another pretty signorina to smile at. He would never have done for her anyhow. Although much younger she was wise beyond her years and would have run rings around him and poor Federico was so eager to please she would be bored stiff within a week! She needed someone to challenge her; someone to fight with. Rosa studied the pair now seated close together in the shade at the opposite end of the pergola and marvelled at the effect the young woman seemed to have on Signore Erik. Where only minutes earlier he had been tense with passionate anger; now he appeared to have relaxed somewhat and was hanging on her every word like drops of rain after a drought. Whatever cloud they had left Paris under may yet turn out to have a silver lining. She spotted her youngest child, the birthday girl and motioned her into the house in front of her. "Piccola I think it's time our guests had some of your cake, don't you? Will you take it out to them?"

"Sir Galahad always had a white horse Meg, representing his purity of heart and such. I would never have a white horse; it would be ridiculous in the extreme. However I appreciate the analogy, however inaccurate."

"I know. I couldn't see it either...the horse I mean. Big and black with a glossy mane is more your style. I picked Galahad because I never really took to Lancelot – he just pined after Guinevere all the time. Galahad went off in search of the Grail. He had adventures and wasn't afraid...like you." The more she kept him talking the more he would calm down but did she really need to gush so much? She would have to be more careful or her stupid mouth would get her into trouble.

The way Erik saw it he had been closer to Lancelot, with Christine in the role of Guinevere and if he was perfectly honest he had deeply appreciated Meg not making the more obvious comparison. He didn't want to be that person anymore. Instead she had cast him as either adventurous or fearless or both. Either way it was further testament to the fact that she seemed to see something in him that neither he nor anyone else ever had. Galahad's quest was always for the Grail but who was to say what or who his Holy Grail was? And he would like a big black horse...perhaps when he found somewhere bigger.

Just then Bella appeared, walking very slowly while trying to carefully balance two china plates. She stopped just short of Meg and handed her the one in her left hand. "This is my birthday cake so you have to eat it. Papa made it just the way I like it and decorated the top with a butterfly all in icing." She handed the other plate to Erik saying "I made sure that you had some of the butterfly on yours but there was only a little piece of wing left. The stupid boys ate all the pretty bits, even the curly feelers and they were the nicest." She stuck out her lip in disgust and clasped her hands behind her back, watching him carefully.

Erik took the plate reverently and held it to eye level trying to spot the wing she referred to. It killed him that she had wanted him of all people to have some of the decorated part of the cake, like she had singled him out for special treatment. "Thank you Bella, the wings are actually the best part for without them how could it fly?"

Meg almost choked on her cake. How in the devil did he always know just what to say to the little girl? He really had no clue how much Bella adored him. That wasn't all he was clueless about, she thought miserably. And let it stay that way Meg. Determined not to fall into a blue humour she turned to Bella who was now grinning from ear to ear in the warmth of Erik's last words. "Did you blow out all your candles at once and make a wish?" It was the stuff of childhood, the part where you felt as if for that one day in the year that was yours, anything was possible if you only just wished it.

"Yes I did and no one helped me either." Twisting from side to side making the skirts of her party dress flare out, she inched a little closer to Erik.

What was this about wishes? More strange candle magic. Again he thought about Meg's little ritual. "What did you wish for?" He was intrigued as to what someone of her size could possibly want.

"Erik! You can't ask her that! It won't come true if she tells." Meg shook her head in astonishment and then remembered he wouldn't have known that. Her heart was breaking for all the tiny things she had always taken for granted; little things that made an otherwise tedious life bearable, none of which he had experienced.

Bella was bouncing up and down clapping her hands and had managed to get as close to Erik as she could without actually sitting on his lap. How did she do it? "I can tell, I can tell. It already came true so I can tell. " She paused for effect and then continued excitedly," I wished to be big enough to play the violin aaand ...he made it come true! He's magic you know!"

Oh I know. Her stupid virgin heart would be in shreds if she kept this up. Erik looked as if he'd lost the power of speech again and actually on the verge of tears. It was quite wonderful watching the effect the little girl had on him, able to completely turn him inside out with very little effort. It was good for him.

Meg had stayed back to help Rosa clear up after the party but she had insisted Erik go back up to their rooms. Somehow she must have known he had had enough; not that he hadn't felt honoured to be asked to the little girl's birthday but it was more people than he had ever interacted with at the same time. His head was spinning and he still felt residually weakened after the debacle with the rodent. He felt his fingers making an involuntary fist at the memory and willed himself to breathe more slowly. Erik couldn't remember the last time he had had those white spots in his eyes – the New Year's Masquerade? When he smashed his last mirror in his old home?

It hardly mattered except that they differed from this. Today he had not gone on to wreak havoc as was his wont when this monster choked all reason out of him. Something rather unexpected had happened out there in the sunshine that prevented him from self destruction.

Meg.

In the few short hours after it had happened she had quite expertly distracted him to the extent that he hadn't even given it another thought; he had just been grateful not to feel so dizzy anymore. Now he was calmer, his thoughts joined up again as much as they ever were and he was coming round to the full realisation of what she had managed to accomplish. No one had ever crossed swords with the Phantom before. No one had dared! At some point in the red mist that had descended she had reached through and taken hold of him. She may as well have taken his hand because he had followed where she had led. How had she done it? How had she managed to break in and catch him before he fell?

Was it simply that he trusted her? He had known for a long time that she would keep him and his secrets safe but perhaps today she had required that he prove it and somehow he felt that must be the difference. She had gone far and beyond what he thought her capable of and when her eyes told him it was safe to jump, that she would break his fall; he had. And she had done it in such a way that no one but he knew what was really happening, who was really responsible, using every bit of subtlety and nuance she had in her dancer's arsenal to speak to him. That was the part that had him coming apart at the seams. She had come to his aid without betraying him to the others so to all assembled it looked as if he had kept his head together after all. In gaining admittance to his darker side she had won something from him that he had never in his life given to anyone, something that no one had ever come close to earning – power over him; the kind that only came from complete trust and an absence of fear. He hadn't been afraid to let her in and she hadn't been afraid to approach. The fact of her astonishing bravery was no small thing either; he was under no illusions as to how terrifying he could make himself. Wasn't that how he had managed to control his world for so long? But she hadn't been afraid. That must be it then. He had given her the power.

Her eyes had trapped him, held him and guided him until she had taken his arm and kept him from falling. Those beautiful warm eyes the colour of almond shells had seen right inside him, down to the cage where he had been trapped. She had picked the lock and walked him right past the guards. There should have been a Lady Galahad for she was surely she. Today she had become his heroine and consequently the only woman in his life he had ever looked up to. Her name alone spoke a hundred different things to him. She ate with him, listened to him, tolerated his odd moods, helped him reason when he could not, drew him out and let him be. She wrapped her arms around him and let him cry for everything he had lost and all he had never had and she never made him feel less of a man for it. And there it was. He felt like a man and she helped him do it.

Today he had seen red. The reason was of course the Italian. But why? He could pretend it was some sort of valiant effort to secure Meg's honour on behalf of her mother. He didn't believe he had thought about Antoinette much and when he thought of everything that had happened over the past weeks...the dome, the dreams, the drawings that littered his room and that damned rose oil that permeated his clothes every time he used the bath in her room... No when he joined them all up together it made an odd sort of sense now. He had seen red because he hadn't wanted Federico near her and he hadn't wanted him near her because...

Oh you fool! She's Lady Galahad for goodness sake; pure, honourable and totally deserving of a white horse. In fact when he found somewhere bigger to live he was going to get her one.

"Is the Signore alright?" Rosa probed gently, passing a teacup from the basin to Meg who was waiting to dry it.

"Of course, just a little drained I think. He has a finite level of tolerance for being among so many people! Don't take it personally; he's just... not used to socialising much." At all in fact. Meg had stayed back to help but also to give Erik a little breathing space on his own away from everyone. Things had gotten a little out of hand and no doubt he would be obsessing over every little detail. It never ceased to amaze her how much thinking he seemed to do and would swear she could hear the cogs in his brain whirring away even from this distance.

"He didn't seem to like our Federico getting too close earlier. A betting man might have said he was jealous!" Rosa knew exactly where she was putting her money but she wasn't altogether sure the Signorina could see it. Most didn't when it was right under their nose. She passed another plate out of the hot suds.

"Oh what nonsense! If you had seen the one he left behind you wouldn't think that – she actually looks remarkably like Elena in fact. It is far more likely an abject terror of my mother who is quite formidable. She would probably not approve of anyone paying me particular attention and since he feels responsible for me he gives himself the role of my gallant protector."

"Hmm." Constant reminders of the one who shunned him in the shape of her daughter? Well that explained the odd wistful look earlier when her son had been twirling Elena round like a pair of children on May Day. How painful for him and yet perhaps cathartic? And it certainly didn't look anything like protectiveness when Federico almost had his hair burnt from his head. That was possessiveness if ever she saw it. She was prevented from delving further into these delicious new developments by her elder daughter who had come into the kitchen flapping a piece of paper back and forth in her hand.

"Mama, this is addressed to Signorina Meg? When did it arrive?"

"Oh goodness, it came on Friday but with it being our busiest day and then Bella's party to sort I completely forgot it!" Mortified at the oversight, she took it from Elena and passed it over to the signorina who was drying off her hands on a tea towel.

"Don't worry about it Rosa, you've had your hands full all weekend I imagine. It's from my mother in Paris. Do you mind if I go and read it?" She was dying for news and had been watching daily for any communication from her.

"Of course you must, I'll finish up here. Elena, take her towel and help me finish!"

Before she could leave the younger woman piped up, looking like she had been itching to say something to her for a while.

"Signorina do you think...I mean Bella thought he might and Mama and Papa say he's very talented but maybe he wouldn't..." Elena trailed off nervously, wringing the towel in her fingers.

Meg saw she was struggling to find the right words and seemed to be talking herself out of whatever she wanted to say." What is it Elena? I assume you mean Signore Erik?" Meg had a sneaking suspicion where this was leading.

Erik looked up from his violin at the sound of the patio door opening. He had taken her out to clean her, a gentle task that always calmed him. Meg!

"Only me! Maman's written - It came on Friday but they were all so busy..." She flicked the little packet as she whirled around him to pull out the chair opposite to him at the table and sat down.

More news of Paris...and consequently Christine. He frowned deeply remembering the last disturbing missive from his lost angel, alluding to dangerous dabblings with things she knew not of. "What does she say?"

"Well I haven't opened it yet silly! Oh by the way, how is your Bach?" She nodded pointedly to the instrument he was caressing in smooth circles with a soft cloth.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Erik enquired haughtily. Honestly!

Could his eyebrow possibly get any higher? Really! She hadn't meant any offence but she refused to assume anything where he was concerned.

"Well...Elena was wondering if perhaps you might do her the honour of playing something in the church? Of course if you don't feel up to it I completely understand." Meg let her words sink in, especially the suggestion that he might cry off. He was far too proud and she was counting on that even if it was a little out of his comfort zone. Registering the perplexed look on his face and leaving him to ponder on it, she ripped open the envelope and settled in her chair to read what her mother had to say.

Ma fille chérie

Oh where do I begin! Well I suppose I should start by telling you that Christine has been – several times. I gave her your rabbit as requested. She visits always with the Vicomte and his sister and each occasion becomes more trying than the last. Oh you know I love her like another daughter but really the incessant questions as to your whereabouts are beginning to grate. I, of course passed on your letter to her and yet she still seems unwilling to accept your absence. Eleanore's story has grown wings at this point. On the point of her mental state – well all I can say is this. She trails around behind her new constant companion – Violette , the Vicomte's sister – with a vacant stare that can only be the result of this medication you spoke of. Her hands seem to shake constantly and she jumps at the slightest noise. And only yesterday I found her in Carlotta's old dressing room staring into the mirror. Goodness knows where she would have ended up if I hadn't spotted the door ajar – she can only have gotten the key from my bureau and that's not like her either.

Meg chewed her lip. Christine really wasn't coping at all and those drugs were obviously making it worse! She had gone rummaging for Maman's keys too which spoke of desperation, never mind what she thought she would accomplish by staring at the mirror. Oh Christine! Her poor, fragile friend.

The harassed Vicomte has seemingly very little time to spend with her as the tribulations here keep most of his attention. Just after your letter arrived – that very day in fact – saw the departure of Messieurs André and Firmin.

About time too! That pair had no clue about how things worked in her world.

They had to be paid off of course but it was the only way, the Vicomte insisted that the deadlock would be broken and work could begin. If only Lefevre would come back things might have a chance of getting back to something resembling normal. In the meantime I have been entrusted with keeping an eye on whatever work crews have been contracted to repair the stage and auditorium in addition to having eyes in the back of my head where the rest of the staff are concerned; it appears I am now all things to all people.

Oh Maman – you cannot do everything. Who looks after you? If she was there she could at least have helped keep an eye on the ballet corps.

Unfortunately we have lost some of our best to the competition and not just the performers. Wardrobe assistants, fly boys, wigmakers, half of the orchestra although M. Reyer is still with us, set painters...all leaving in their droves thanks to this nonsense with the managers. They would not agree terms with the patron so he withheld the vast sums needed for the refurbishment. They in turn would not pay the staff - the managers have always been in control of the wages account – and people cannot live on promises alone. I tried my best to convince as many as I could to stay but with limited effect and it will cost twice as much to get the best of them back. Now there is some ridiculous legal tangle over the accounts which apparently cannot be accessed without both of our dearly departed manager's signatures and goodness knows where they have fled to. It is a mess.

Why can't Raoul pay the staff? The place might as well close if all the staff leave! Some of them had been there their whole lives.

I don't suppose you realise how fortunate you are to be away from all of this. I cannot have slept more than four hours a night since the fire and I do not see it improving.

You mentioned in your last letter that you had been entrusted with the full disclosure of what happened? You must know it all then. I had hoped you would remain innocent of such awful things for a little longer but we cannot always have what we wish for, can we? Maybe you are a stronger woman than I to be able to handle such dark complexities – perhaps I raised you better than I had imagined. I assume you are both well and no doubt looking forward to your neighbour's wedding –Elena wasn't it? How odd that she looks like Christine; I can't imagine the look on our friend's face when that discovery was made. On that subject – she hasn't given me anything to send to you this time but then I did not mention it when I last saw her. If she does drop something off, I will send it on of course. Perhaps you could think about coming for a visit sometime soon, especially if things are a little more stable at your end...

Bisous

Maman

Goodness! Obviously things had gotten decidedly more desperate back home. Meg leaned back in her chair and stretched, unable to keep the wrinkle of worry from her forehead.

"What is it? Trouble in Paris?" Although could it be anything else? He had caused the most of it.

"Well you might be glad to know Firmin and André have left – the Vicomte paid them off because they couldn't resolve their differences and everyone was suffering as a result. Now though, Maman seems to be overseeing things but there's still some sort of problem with the accounts because the managers are the only ones who can access them. A lot of staff have already left."

Hmm. Perhaps de Chagny wasn't such an idiot after all. The place was certainly better off without them but though Antoinette was more capable than most men she still wouldn't be able to manage everything on her own...and with no money coming in as presumably the patron was only paying for the rebuild? They only ever funded the bigger stars, new sets, promotion and such so this was not a surprise to him yet what was a refurbished opera house with no staff?

"That's no great loss. They hadn't the first clue how to run a theatre. Was that all she had to say?" He would be lying if he thought he wasn't hoping for news of Christine but surprisingly he found it was more to do with his concern over how she was being looked after rather than any more pointless yearnings.

There was nothing in the letter he couldn't know, apart from the mirror. She didn't think he particularly needed to hear that. "No, as a matter of fact she has seen Christine several times and agrees that she's not well at all. She asked if I would come home to visit soon. She can't possibly manage on her own and Christine is seemingly more and more agitated regarding my whereabouts. I might be able to help her more if I was there." She hadn't really thought about it having had little time to digest the letter before Erik began to question her but it was becoming a distinct possibility. Just a few weeks perhaps. She was reluctant to leave him but he would be alright, especially with Rosa and Bella to keep an eye on him.

Selfishly Erik hoped she would do no such thing. How would he cope without her? Of course her first duty was to her mother and her friend obviously but still. He could help Antoinette; he certainly had the wherewithal and he hated the thought of anyone else losing their livelihood because of him. It was time to begin to put things right. "If you must go then I suppose -"

Meg recognised the sulking for exactly what it was and resolved to ignore it. She would miss him if she went home but he would surely survive for a few weeks and then she would be back again.

"Perhaps, but not until after the wedding; there's no way I'm missing that. Now tell me, are you going to play for Elena?"

"Did she have any particular request?" Lifting his violin and putting the cloth back in the case Erik waited for instructions. He still couldn't get his head around being asked in the first place. Obviously what had happened earlier hadn't damaged their opinion of him and that, he knew was all because of Meg so in a way he owed her this.

Across the courtyard Rosa and Elena Pellizzari were just finishing the last of the dishes when they heard it. Elena dropped her cloth and ran to the back door, a huge smile lighting up her face. "Oh Mama, do you think that means he's going to do it?"

The emotive strains of Bach's Ave Maria poured out of the patio door that Meg had left ajar, and up into the Venetian sky.