"If you're innocent, you won't object to the removal of your mask."
Only when Melodie tasted blood did she realize how deeply she was biting her lip. In her mind, she cursed David with a colourful string of words. Henry would be appalled by the extent of her vocabulary.
She felt Erik step away from her, and then she was propelled forward into the arms of another man.
"Take care of her."
Hearing Erik's curt instruction, her mind rebelled against being cast aside, yet she understood the reason for it. Rosenberg's hand was warm on her shoulder but she took no comfort from its presence.
When chaos erupted around her, she clutched at the sleeve of the manager's jacket. "What's going on?" she demanded.
Rosenberg guided her further across the stage as he spoke. "They're fighting. I can't believe this is happening."
She heard the pounding of feet, could feel the floorboards vibrating, as people fled for the wings. "Is he all right?" she asked.
"Who, Blythe? He appears to be holding his own." Rosenberg sucked in a breath. "Oh my God."
The sound of shouts and screaming filled the air, making Melodie's heart race. "What? What is it?"
"Fire. The curtain is on fire. We have to get out of here."
Feeling the tug on her arm, she tried to shake off the pressure of his hand. "No."
"Melodie, please. We have to go."
She could smell the smoke now, could almost taste it, acrid and bitter. Her eyes stung as she literally dug her heels in. "No. I'm not leaving him."
Rosenberg gasped with dismay but before she could ask what was wrong, a blurry shape filled her vision. Her forearm was captured in a bruising grip and she heard the manager grunt, as if in pain. "Mr. Rosenberg?"
She was almost yanked off her feet and then hauled along by an unknown captor, though she had an inkling of whom it was. She tried to wrench herself free, to no avail. "Stop! Let go of me."
"Let her go, David."
The furious voice was Henry's and he confirmed her suspicion of the mystery man. She barely registered that fact before she heard the dull slap of an object striking flesh, followed by a thud to the floor.
Alarmed, she cried out, "Henry?"
Once again she was jerked forward, but this time she struggled with all her might. "What did you do to him? Henry!" Panting from equal parts fear and exertion, she raised her free arm and found her mark, raking her nails across David's face. She should have expected it, but the force of the blow across her cheekbone stunned her. Left dazed and nauseous, her resistance ebbed as she was dragged along, stumbling several times over the hem of her skirt. Though she attempted to keep her wits about her, she was unsure of where they were. David had not uttered a word and she wondered why he was so mute. "This is madness, David. What are you doing?"
"Something I should have done long ago."
She was spun to the right and her hand was smacked against a railing. "Climb," he ordered from behind her.
Not knowing where these particular stairs were leading, she shook her head. "No. I refuse to go any farther." Fingers seized her chin, forcing her to look at an object placed inches from her nose; it was the glinting blade of his sword.
"Start climbing or I will slit your throat where you stand."
Any doubts that he was serious were erased when his face also came into focus. His bloodshot eyes reflected a chilling intensity that she had never seen before. Perhaps he truly had gone mad.
With a renewed surge of dread that made her shiver, she forced one foot in front of the other and began to ascend the staircase. Each step took her farther away from Henry and Erik. What had befallen them?
An idea came to her. Tilting her head, she snaked one hand through her hair and undid the clasp of her hairpin – the one Erik had given her. Enfolding it in a fist, she slid her hand down the front of her skirt and let it go. After two heartbeats, she heard a faint clattering sound. David did not make a comment so she could only hope he had not noticed.
She prayed that Erik would find it and in turn, that he would find her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Erik headed for the nearest wing of the stage. The area was not well lit and he tripped over something, almost falling before managing to regain his balance. He glanced down.
"Henry!"
Kneeling, Erik bent over the body lying prone on the ground. His gaze swept over the bloody gash that marred the older man's temple and came to rest on the eyes – eyes that were open and staring into space. Erik was reminded of the time when he had found Melodie in a similar position. He placed two fingers on the side of the man's neck but this time, no reassuring pulse met his fingers.
Henry was dead.
With a heavy heart, Erik murmured, "Je suis désolé. Repos dans la paix, Henry." He had no doubt that Wentworth was responsible for this. That bastard was completely out of control and the fact that he had Melodie in his clutches…
Grimacing, Erik stood and continued to make his way to the backstage corridors. As much as the emotions were crowding in and trying to take over, he had to remain level headed. He couldn't allow anger and fear for Melodie's safety to cloud his logic.
The area backstage was deserted, the complete silence almost eerie. David could have taken Melodie through several possible routes – to the rear of the theatre through the stables, around to the front or through the side entrance. As Erik tried to decide which might be the most likely choice, his boot crunched down on something. Normally he would have kept on walking but something made him stop to investigate.
It was Melodie's hairpin.
He stooped to pick up the object and turned it over in his hand. While it was possible that it had simply slid out of her hair, it might also serve as a clue to her whereabouts. Melodie was clever. She could have deliberately dropped it. Taking a look around him, he spied the nearby stairs that ascended to the roof. There was no escape that way. Surely, David would not have chosen that dead end.
Erik took three steps towards the rear corridor and then halted. He turned his gaze back toward the staircase. Some unknown instinct tugged at him, luring him toward the roof. But if he was wrong, too much time would be lost and hopes of finding her would dwindle down to an impossibility.
"Merde," he muttered.
He slipped the jewelled ribbon into his pocket, next to the lasso that he'd retrieved from his cloak. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran all the way up.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Melodie gasped at the shock of cold air that assaulted her senses. Shivering, she hugged her arms tightly against her chest. Wind whipped at her hair, tossing strands into her eyes and across her face. She wasn't sure if it was the force of the wind or the strain of the endless flight of stairs that stole her breath away.
Coming to her side, David took hold of her arm again and led her forward. Though she wanted to resist, she didn't. At this point, it would be a fruitless endeavour. When he stopped, he released her arm.
"David, talk to me," she implored. "Why did you bring us here?"
"We'll see if Blythe is successful in stopping the fire. I rather hope he is, as I confess to not relishing the thought of being consumed by flames. Either way, my miserable life will come to an end tonight. And so will yours."
As the meaning of his words sunk in, Melodie's lips parted but no sound emerged. Her shivering intensified until her teeth started chattering.
"You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."
David laughed. "Yes, I'm drunk. That's why I have the courage to do this. My life is in ruins and it's all your fault."
"My fault? You can't blame me for the failings of your life. That's absurd."
"Is it? You've been a thorn in my side since the day Henry brought you home."
"So you're going to kill me? You may be many things, but you're not a murderer."
"Your faith in me is charming. My father has always said I've never set a goal for myself and achieved it. Maybe it's time I proved him wrong."
With that statement hanging in the air, Melodie became silent, contemplating all the disadvantages against her. Never having been on the roof before, she was unfamiliar with the layout. She didn't have a weapon, not even her cane. And as much as she hated to admit it, her lack of sight was a serious problem.
Although it was night, a faint glow that she assumed to be the moonlight prevented her world from being immersed in total blackness. Closing her eyes, she made a wish on a star.
She had to convince David that he still had a life to live.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Erik slowly opened the door. As he peered out into the darkened stillness of the rooftop, his eyes adjusted to the wan light. Pausing to listen, he heard a voice carry on the wind and breathed a soundless sigh. Melodie was talking, though he couldn't see her.
He ventured out a few feet more, taking cover behind a lone statue. It was the only adornment on this roof and he was grateful for its presence. He could allow himself a few moments to assess the situation without being seen.
Creeping forward, Erik craned his neck and saw Melodie and David, mere steps away from the edge of the roof. He wondered if she realized how close to the precipice she was.
"You're wrong," she was saying. "Your father loves you."
"Please, spare me the platitudes," David sneered.
Erik's gaze flickered back and forth between them as they talked. David still gripped his sword, though it was pointed downward and did not seem an immediate threat. While the lasso would have been Erik's preferred means of wringing David's neck, he couldn't use it while Melodie was so close. He had no other weapon to consider except, perhaps, one that he had not exercised in many years.
Erik hoped it wasn't too rusty from disuse.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
As Melodie continued to drone on about his father, David found that he was barely listening. Instead, he thought about how disastrous this night had turned out to be. His cheek still throbbed from the blow Blythe had dealt him. Despite David's earlier words to Melodie, he wasn't entirely confident that he could go through with this plan of extinguishing both their lives. It wasn't the first time he had considered it but he had never come this far before. He should have consumed another bottle of brandy to further dull his doubts.
David regarded Melodie through bleary eyes, struck by how beautiful she looked tonight. He realized, with a strange sort of clarity, that he both loved her and hated her. It was the same mix of feelings that he'd believed he reserved only for his father. The revelation seemed to loosen his tongue and he started rambling about his woes – his disinheritance, his loss of Olivia, his lifelong battle to please his father.
Melodie never interrupted him, seeming to listen with a sympathetic ear. Even through his alcoholic haze, he knew that was probably wishful thinking on his part. Still, it made her even more endearing.
"One more kiss," he muttered, closing the distance between them. Before he could savour her lips for the last time, movement in the corner of his eye distracted him.
Blythe emerged from the shadows, a completely black silhouette save for the unearthly radiance of the white mask. David almost took a startled step back. Catching himself in time, beads of sweat broke out on his brow, his heart pounding. He had deliberately brought Melodie to the roof's edge but he wasn't ready to take the plunge just yet.
Grabbing hold of Melodie once more, David swung her around and held the sword to her throat. He addressed his uninvited guest. "I know your reflexes are quick but it will take less than a second for me to kill her. I suggest you stand well back. You were successful in stopping the fire, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Of course you were. I suppose you're the hero now. How splendid for you."
"I understand, you know, how you feel about your father."
Hearing Blythe's gentle, soothing tone, David scowled. "Don't try to patronize me. You know nothing about it."
"I know only too well. You've spent your entire life trying to please him yet no matter what you do, it isn't good enough. After an eternity of trying, it's simply easier to give up. He's your father, a powerful figure, someone you both love and hate. I understand because I've been there, but it doesn't have to be like this. You don't need him, David. You can forge a life on your own and move far away where no one knows you. You can start over without answering to anyone. It can happen but it starts here. All you have to do is put down the sword. Put down the sword, David."
David stared at the composer, directly into eyes that shone with impossible brilliance in the dark of night. He was trapped in that gaze, unable to glance away, and yet he felt safe and content. He didn't want to look away. He wanted to obey. The voice was compelling and reverberated in his mind with a calm but clear command.
Put down the sword, David.
His grip on the sword began to relax and his arm dropped. Though David didn't see Blythe's mouth move, he could hear the musical voice.
Good, David. Now, step away from Melodie.
Thudding footsteps and a shout that echoed through the air snapped David out of his trance.
"David, don't be a fool! What are you doing?"
David blinked and shook his head at the sight of Ramsey running forward. With a guttural cry of rage, David raised his arm again, the blade pressed flat to Melodie's neck.
"You traitor! And you have the gall to call yourself a friend."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Erik suppressed his urge to groan aloud. He had been so close. Like a puppet master, he'd manipulated David's strings and bent his will. If he'd only had a few seconds more, Melodie would be safe in his arms. Instead, she continued to visibly tremble in David's grasp.
"I am your friend," Ramsey said.
"I saw you leaping to Blythe's side to help him. No friend of mine would have done that."
"You would have rather seen the entire theatre engulfed in flames? A repeat of the Paris disaster?"
"Yes," David hissed.
Ramsey appeared shocked by the answer and when he responded, he spoke quietly. "Then I'm sad to say, perhaps you're right. No friend of mine would hope for something so evil."
"I'm glad we understand each other," David said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He turned his gaze to Erik. "Your trickery was impressive. Is that how you made Melodie care for you?"
As much as Erik tried, he couldn't stop the pulse that came to life beneath his eye. "It's not too late, David. You can still walk away from this."
"I'm not under your spell any longer. Don't waste your breath. Say goodbye to your Erik, Melodie."
Erik's eyes bulged at the swiftness of David's motions. In one second, Melodie was there, caught in David's grip. In the next second, she was gone, her scream slicing through Erik's heart.
David had pushed her off the roof.
"NO!"
Erik's anguished cry exploded from his throat. He began to run and barely noticed that David was coming toward him, sword held high. Erik didn't stop to think. He acted from sheer hatred and fury. Blocking the downward slash with one hand on David's forearm, he punched David in the face with the other. David's head snapped back from the force of the blow but he continued to cling to the sword. Rage gave Erik more than enough strength to wrench the weapon from David's grasp. He plunged the blade, almost to the hilt, straight through David's gut.
Erik cursed himself for every opportunity he'd had to end this man's life. If he'd only heeded his base instinct – the murderous impulse that lurked within him – both Henry and Melodie would still be alive. Now she was dead and something within Erik shrivelled up and died too; his world had been reduced to darkness and insanity once again.
David's face had slackened in an expression of comical surprise. With fierce satisfaction, Erik shoved him backwards and felt a savage thrill when he tossed the body over the edge. His chest heaving, a roaring in his ears, Erik panted for breath. When he heard the familiar voice floating from below, he thought his mindless plunge into delirium was complete.
"Erik!"
He looked down and his jaw fell with joyous disbelief.
"Mellie!"
Several stone gargoyles protruded from the face of the building. Melodie was hanging on to one of them with both hands. Directly beneath her was air – hundreds of feet of nothingness that ended with the cobblestone streets of London.
Erik dropped down and lay on his stomach. Edging out as far as he dared, he stretched his arm. His fingers splayed, wiggled, but he was just shy of reaching her. "Mellie, give me your hand."
"I can't."
"You can."
"No, I can't!" Desperation laced her voice. "I can't support myself with one hand. I…I'm barely hanging on. Please help me. Don't let me fall."
Erik understood the problem. The stone was wider than the span of her palm, making it difficult for her to grip it easily. She was literally hanging on by her fingernails.
He slid forward another inch but it still wasn't enough. When he moved again, he started to topple over. Trying to back-pedal, he only succeeded in throwing himself further off balance. He felt a sharp yank on his jacket and for a hair-raising moment, he was suspended in mid-air. In the next instant, he was being pulled back to the solidness of the roof.
Jumping to his feet, Erik extracted the lasso from his pocket and then ripped off his jacket. He didn't even bother to thank Ramsey for bringing him back to safety. Only as he started tying the rope to his waist did he notice the blood on his hands – David's blood. He wiped it off on his shirt.
"I need you to lower me down, just a little. I'm a few inches short of reaching her."
Ramsey gaped at him. "With that thin little rope? You're a big man. It can't possibly hold…"
"It can and it will," Erik interrupted. He tied a firm knot and prayed his claim was true. "It's stronger than it looks. Here. Wrap it in your fists." He thrust the other end of the lasso into Ramsey's palm.
Ramsey sounded panicked when he spoke. "I don't know if I can do this. You must outweigh me by at least…"
At the end of his patience, Erik cut him off again. "You only have to support me for a few seconds until I can pull her up myself. There's no other way." He seized the man's shoulder. "But if the rope starts to slip and you think you can't do it, yell out to me. I'll try to bring Melodie up to you somehow. Grab on to her and let me go. If the choice is my life or Melodie's, you must save her. Understand?"
Ramsey nodded. "Yes."
Erik flattened himself down once more and reached out, dropping lower. "I'm coming, Mellie."
Her voice was reduced to a whimper. "I can't…can't hold on."
"Just a second longer, love. I'm almost there," he urged, straining to close the gap. At last, he clamped on to each of her wrists. "Got you. Ramsey, start pulling back!"
With a lurch to his stomach, Erik felt his grip slipping on her left wrist. Blood had trickled down from her injured fingers, making the contact slick. He tried to squeeze harder but the slide continued until he lost the battle.
Melodie screamed, now dangling from a single limb.
Clenching his teeth, Erik stretched back with his free arm, relieved when he felt the stone of the roof's ledge. He had neglected to tell Ramsey that he would actually be supporting the combined weight of himself and Melodie. However, Erik was now in the position to scramble backward on his own.
His grip on Melodie's right wrist began to slip.
"Erik!"
Dear God, help me.
"Don't worry, Mellie. I've got you."
Only seconds ticked by, the equivalent of three heartbeats, but Erik could have sworn his heart ceased altogether: Within the first beat, he knew he had no alternative but to grab her arm with his other hand. In the next, he stretched himself out and momentum began carrying him downward. He had failed and they were both going to die. In the final beat, he felt his leg being yanked and he was dragged upward.
The three of them collapsed on the rooftop. Ramsey tumbled over onto his back and Erik gathered Melodie into his arms, so tightly at first that he may have crushed some bones. Relaxing his hold slightly, he closed his eyes. He wasn't sure who was trembling more; it was probably him.
Erik extended his arm towards Ramsey and they shook hands. "I am in your debt," Erik said. "Thank you."
As if unable to speak just yet, Ramsey merely nodded.
Erik finally drew back from Melodie, noting that she continued to shake. Reaching for his crumpled dresscoat, he draped it over her shoulders and rubbed at her back. She still hadn't spoken and he assumed she needed a bit more time to recover. He took a moment to undo the lasso from his waist, thinking it ironic that the weapon had been used to help save a life.
Her voice was small when she broke the silence. "David?" she asked.
"He's dead."
Her face remained blank but then she gripped his sleeve, her brow furrowing. "Henry. He hurt Henry. We have to make sure he's all right."
Erik stiffened, his mouth going dry. He attempted to clear his throat but his voice remained hoarse. "Mellie, I have to tell you something."
"He's badly hurt, isn't he. That bastard. I'm glad David is dead." Melodie's tone was venomous and she was practically spitting.
"It's worse. There is no way to make this any easier so I'm just going to say it. Henry is dead."
"What? He can't be."
"He is. I found him myself. He suffered a blow to the temple. Depending on the intensity and the precise location, it's a means of killing a man. Wentworth probably used the butt of his sword."
"You found him?"
"Yes."
"Then you're wrong."
"Mellie…"
"You're wrong!" she cried, leaping to her feet. She threw off his jacket. "Take me to him."
Her eyes were wild and glassy, her voice as brittle as ice.
He was afraid she would shatter in her next breath.
"I'll take you to him," Erik said.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Melodie clung to her belief that Erik was wrong – that Henry was alive – for as long as possible. Hope carried her down the stairs and enabled her feet to keep moving. When they reached level ground, she heard people milling about but couldn't distinguish what they were saying. Her only focus was getting to Henry. Everything else was reduced to an odd buzzing in her head.
Erik halted and murmured near her cheek. He was the only person that she seemed to hear clearly.
"We're here," he said.
She knelt down and stretched out her arm, finding the curve of Henry's shoulder. Following the downward slope, she trailed a path that led to his hand; it was icy cold to the touch.
She jerked her own hand back as if burned, clutching it to her chest.
Erik's breath warmed her ear. "Mellie, the Inspector is here and wants to talk to me. I'm not leaving you. I'm just a few feet away, all right?"
She nodded. Leaning forward, she brought her face close to Henry's. She needed to see him, his dear, wrinkled face. Though it was marred by a hideous gash and streaks of dried blood, she only saw the kind soul of the man that had raised her with love. Her hopes were dashed after all, for he truly was dead. And she would never get the opportunity to call him 'Father'.
She remained on the floor, unaware of the passing time. It rather surprised her that she was so calm. In fact, she felt nothing at all. No pain. No grief. Not even an urge to cry.
What kind of a woman am I?
Erik returned to her side. "Are you ready to go?" he asked.
"What will happen to Henry?"
"The authorities will take care of him for now."
"Do you think he suffered?"
"No, I think it was quick. Mellie, let me take you home."
"He should have a blanket. He's cold and he's not fond of the cold. He always liked the summer. I know it makes no difference but I hate for him to be so cold. Will someone bring him a blanket?"
Melodie knew she was babbling but she couldn't seem to stop herself.
A new voice joined in and she recognized the owner to be Ramsey. "I spoke to the Inspector. You're in the clear, Erik. How is she?" he asked.
"Henry needs a blanket," she said.
"A blanket?" Ramsey repeated.
"Yes."
"I'll take care of it."
Satisfied, Melodie kissed Henry's forehead. "Goodbye…Father."
Time seemed to leap forward and she became aware of her surroundings – a rhythmic rocking motion and cushiony seat beneath her. She didn't remember getting into a carriage. She was leaning against Erik, wrapped in his jacket, and the feel of his body beside her was comforting. Her hands were cold, her fingers throbbing with pain. Reaching into a pocket for warmth, she found a small, velvet-covered box.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Oh, it's for you but the timing isn't right," Erik said, sounding uneasy.
"For me?"
He took the box from her and the bleary shape came into focus before her eyes. It was a ring – a sky blue stone with diamonds set on either side of it. "It's beautiful," she stated. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears – entirely flat and void of emotion.
"I asked Henry earlier in the evening for…well, for permission to marry you. And he granted it."
"I see."
"But as I said, the timing couldn't be worse. You don't have to say anything. We'll talk about this some other time."
"Some other time," she parroted.
Frowning, she wondered what was wrong with her. She vaguely understood that she must be in shock but the knowledge didn't seem to help her. Talking was tiring. She didn't want to talk anymore.
More time escaped from her and she realized the carriage had come to a halt. Erik assisted her and when her feet touched the ground, her stomach churned in a rolling wave. With a moan, she said, "I'm going to be sick."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
After Melodie finished retching, Erik scooped her up and carried her into the house. Sascha greeted them with a wagging tail but Erik couldn't stop to give her the attention she sought. He would have to make it up to her tomorrow.
Melodie's behaviour worried him but considering everything she had been through, perhaps it wasn't so strange. She lapsed into long periods of silence in which she didn't seem to be aware of anything around her. When she did speak, it was stilted and mechanical, as if every spark of her spirit had been extinguished.
Once upstairs, he set Melodie down on his bed. She sat upright on her own but stared ahead, listless and unmoving. Erik tore off his shirt and tossed it on the floor, glad to be rid of the bloody linen. Pulling on a fresh shirt, he didn't bother to button it. He was more concerned with tending to Melodie's wounds. Her hands and arms were a complete mess. Several fingernails had ripped off completely and the soft undersides of her arms were scraped raw. He guessed that when she fell near the gargoyle, her arms had grazed along the stone until, by some miracle, she managed to grab hold of it.
Erik shuddered even now, contemplating how close he'd come to losing her.
Within minutes he'd retrieved a pitcher of water, basin, soap, and clean cloths. He used some of the cloths to cleanse the cuts and finally, he wrapped her hands and arms in the makeshift bandages. Exhaustion was creeping up on him but he ignored it. He removed his mask and wig, placing it on the bedside table. Sitting beside Melodie, he rubbed at his face and regarded her.
"Can you undress yourself or would you like me to help you?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," she said.
He quirked an eyebrow at the response. Emitting a sigh, he began the task of removing her dress. The last time he had tried this, he hadn't gotten past the corset.
When he'd finished, her dress, corset and stockings were hung over a chair, her shoes placed underneath. Melodie remained sitting on his bed in her chemise. Erik supposed that if he were a true gentleman, he would have guided her to her own bed. However, he didn't trust her to be alone tonight. He wasn't about to let her out of his sight.
"Try to get some rest, love," he said, nudging against her shoulder. After she lay down on her side, he climbed in and arranged the covers around them, wrapping an arm around her waist. Sleep would not come easily to him tonight.
Kissing the top of her head, Erik began to hum a lullaby.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Erik awakened to two distinct sensations; he was alone and something was wrong.
Flinging out an arm, he only felt the coolness of the sheet against his fingertips instead of a warm body. He lit a candle and stepped into the hallway. The door to Melodie's room was closed but he could hear her sobbing. His gut twisted at the heartbreaking sound.
Knocking on the door, he let himself in. "Mellie?"
Within the wavering glow of the candlelight, he saw her huddled on the bed, curled into a tight ball. Her face was buried into the pillow, her cries muffled. At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head.
"I'm s-sorry. I didn't want to w-wake you."
"It's all right."
"I can't seem to s-stop crying."
Erik set aside the candle and ventured closer, unsure of what to do. Perhaps she wanted to grieve in private. Her next request, however, made things easier.
"Erik?"
"Yes?"
"Would you mind h-holding me?"
He sat down on the bed, legs outstretched. Melodie crawled into his arms and renewed her weeping against his chest. The sobs were less forceful now, allowing her to speak more freely. "I can't believe he's dead. It isn't fair."
"I know."
Tears continued to leak from her eyes, even as she swiped them away. "There's so much more I could have said to him. Now it's too late. I loved him so much. I didn't tell him often enough. He died trying to protect me."
Erik said nothing, stroking her hair. She became quiet and for a while, the only sound was their breathing until she spoke again. "I'm sorry. I didn't even thank you for saving my life."
"I should thank you for having the bravery and strength to hang on for as long as you did. I can't even think about what I would have done if…"
His voice trailed off. He couldn't even complete the sentence without feeling sick.
"It's really over, isn't it. Now that David is gone."
"Yes."
"Are you in trouble with the authorities?"
"No, Ramsey was most helpful with that. He was a witness to what happened on the roof. And when the Inspector questioned me about the accusations that Wentworth had made about Paris, Ramsey stepped in and said that he had been mistaken. That I wasn't the man responsible for the disaster there."
"He said that? How remarkable."
"Indeed. The man has been full of surprises. And I mean that in the most positive light. Perhaps he's trying to atone for participating in David's sins."
"Erik, back in the carriage, was I dreaming or did you show me a ring?"
Swallowing, Erik shifted. "No, you weren't dreaming. It was very real."
"What did Henry say when you talked to him?"
Erik fell short of actually smiling but the memory was a pleasant one that he would recall for years to come with fondness. "He said that while he's loved having you for a daughter, he's always wondered what it would be like to have a son. Then he said he looked forward to the day when he could officially call me 'son'."
Eyes awash with fresh tears, Melodie looked upward. "You do realize," she said, "that you haven't officially asked me. Ask me the question, Erik."
"Now?"
"Mmm hmm."
His heart thudding, Erik felt light-headed. It was beyond ridiculous. He couldn't believe he was actually nervous after everything that had happened tonight. But he was. He tried to clear his throat and only succeeded in sounding strangled.
"Melodie, would you do me the honour of marrying me?"
She smiled at him and kissed each of his cheeks, then his mouth, before pulling back and answering.
"Yes."
They continued to hold each other until Melodie's eyes closed, her breathing deepening. Erik watched her sleep. Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy, his head lolling back.
He dreamed of slipping the ring on her finger and calling her 'wife'.
Je suis désolé. Repos dans la paix, Henry
French translation (I hope – it's courtesy of BabelFish): I'm sorry. Rest in peace, Henry.
A/N: Many thanks to my betas and as always, thank you so much for your reviews. I hope I've satisfied my readers with this chapter. It's gone through several re-writes and I think I've now read it too many times to be objective anymore. I will say I've found it very difficult to be original in the 'big climax' and in the originality department, I'm not entirely satisfied myself. But hopefully you found it entertaining anyway. That's the main thing, right? Okay, that's what I'll keep telling myself :-) If anyone in lurkdom cares to step forward with a review, now would be a good time. Dare I say there's one chapter left? I look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts. Thanks.