28.
Raoul de Chagny hesitated in the hall. His hat was hung from the hall tree, but recalling the gusting breeze as he and Christine exited the cab, he decided to leave it behind. He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the stoop. Closing the door, he allowed time for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the outdoors. He went to the steps and glanced to his right.
"Over here." Erik's shirt and white mask were like hovering, disembodied specters in the faint light from the house windows.
Raoul walked to join him. "Are we going to check on the ladies?"
"In a sense." Erik's mask flashed white in the darkness as he looked about him. He led Raoul down a path between what looked like ground broken up in preparation for flowers. It was difficult to picture the Phantom and his wife sitting in the sunlight between sweeping rafts of blooms. They passed a primitive looking bench. Its shape was not perfectly rectangular which lent it a carefree air.
"Nature abhors straight lines," Erik said. Raoul started at how close Erik's words brushed his very own musings. "Gus pulled that stone from the banks of the river. I find it a homage to the perfection nature can attain while man strives to force it within geometrical boundaries.
"I have faith that my wife can find her way to the river and back. What concerns me is the subject which must be niggling at you as well."
They paused, facing one another about three paces apart, not close enough to be friends, but more than enough for confederates. "Go on," Raoul prompted.
"Something worries Christine. I sense that she is looking for something. How concerned are you that she has not recovered her singing voice?"
"I am not concerned over it. I only worry over her."
Erik paused, his normally startling eyes were dark centers in the mask's eye holes. "You see she is struggling as well?"
Raoul was prepared to argue, his ire rising, at the inference that he would push away Christine's feelings about anything. But he clamped his lips shut, and exhaled his anger. The man he faced would understand more than anyone how desperately he wanted to protect his wife. Rather than give word to the obvious, he turned the conversation. "It hasn't been easy for her. She left friends, her home, the opera….."
The Phantom stood a darker spot in the moving dark lines of rustling shrubs. Raoul took his patient stance as a prompt. "My aunts were less than happy about my decision. We left after only a month with them. I went to the bank and withdrew what I could of my stipend from the funds my family provides. I did it on the pretence that Christine wished to see her homeland before I sailed. We visited Madame Valarius. I intended to take Christine to the port and wait until I sailed. I had hoped to get her settled with Madame Valarius' help. If I could get her someplace where she was comfortable and surrounded by friends, she might be happier."
Erik's head turned a little. The movement might have been lost except for the changing position of the mask drawing Raoul's eyes to the pale surface. "You didn't make it to port?"
"We saw the newspaper. Chris has been adamant to read that section every day. I buy her paper every morning."
"Did you intend to bring her back?"
"I promised her I would." He paused to picture her on the train, the sun coming in the window turning her hair to a halo of pale gold, her eyes as blue as the sky. "She began to weep. I knew what she had seen. We just couldn't believe it. We had been reading of the woman who interrupted the performance at the opera. It had occurred scant days before, and then, here was Chris reading of your death."
That set the Phantom in motion. He half turned, the mask turning side to side like a pendulum. "I'd forgotten that. Mirielle must have sent the message to the paper beforehand to bring you back. What abominably bad timing." He began walking towards the back of the house.
Raoul followed, lifting his steps just enough to be sure he wouldn't trip over anything in the darkness. He spoke a little louder to catch Erik's attention. "The papers said a mysterious man appeared upon the stage. That he disarmed the woman before she did any harm."
Erik's dark figure turned. "I did nothing but appear when she least expected it. She shot herself. She must have known by then that the gas mains had not been breached. It was over for her."
Raoul winced. The opulent beauty of the opera with its rufescent curtains, velvet seats, and gilded appointments had been spoiled by an almost unspeakable scene. "Thank God Chris was not upon the stage that night."
"Indeed. It was the night I knew I could no longer live below the opera. I wanted my wife safe, protected from any such fanatical nonsense." He growled, "Madame Aulin has it right. This country doesn't know when to give up fighting."
"It is the times that we live in," Raoul answered."How—how did you meet your wife?"
The Phantom returned in a ghostly chuckle that seemed to travel around and behind Raoul. "You mean how does a madman like me become a respectable married man?"
Deciding to be frank, Raoul replied, "Yes."
Erik's sigh was pronounced enough that Raoul could hear it over the sound of the canopy of tree branches overhead whispering. "You run out of strength. You run out of patience. You grow tired of being the lion among the lambs. A man can only stride against the current for so long."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning time weighs heavy upon you. Regrets are the worst thing a man can carry to his grave." He brushed a pale hand down his jacket. His next words were almost carried away by a gust. "Nadir sent me to a matchmaker."
After arriving at the underground house and finding a living man, Raoul had believed he would never be again so surprised in his life. He should have known that dealing with Erik would render him befuddled once again. Surprise turned to laughter that he could not restrain.
Erik did not mask the disgusted tsking noise he made as he turned away.
"You—you w-went-t to a—"
"Yes, yes! Humorous isn't it? I'm human after all!"
Raoul cleared his throat. "Sorry. That's just…astounding."
"I thought so as well. Not that I didn't suffer from fainting women. It took a while to find Mirielle. She's too polite to scream. And she was a little curious I think."
Raoul shook his head in wonder.
Erik's voice turned low. "Amazing isn't it? I talked to her. That's all. Oh, she does love opera. That was my stipulation, of course. Shall I shock you further?"
His voice sounded gleeful, and Raoul studied his masked face, the shadowed cheeks, the golden eyes.
"I'm a grandfather."
Raoul was still reeling from the possibilities that faced this man when Erik continued. "I remember Christine set great store upon her beliefs. Does she still?"
Arrested by the sudden change in Erik's voice, Raoul responded. "She does."
"I have a proposition for you."
"Go on."
"My maid Anais is from the Caribbean. I have found that she has been raised in the culture we call Voodoo. I wish to try something with Christine. A ritual of sorts."
On guard when his wife's name was mentioned, Raoul put out a hand. "What sort of ritual?"
"Christine sets great store in the supernatural. Why not give her a ritual to bring back her voice?"
"What does it entail?"
"Fannie's mother has a shop from which she deals herbs. She appears to be some sort of expert at cleansing and other rituals. I'm to meet with her and find out what would be appropriate to the situation."
Raoul studied the older man. "If I had heard this from anyone else, I might have scoffed."
Erik waited, head cocked, his eyes now a faint golden spark within the mask. "It is a leap of faith, I know. But would you trust Christine's welfare to anyone else?"
The answer was painfully simple. "No. I do trust that you would always care for her. If you didn't, you would not have sent her away that night." Thoughts of the future brushed aside the memories of the past. "I must insist that I go with you."
Nadir gazed into Catherine's eyes, believing they must mirror his own. A gentle surprise followed by warmth settled inside him. "I apologize if I misread—"
"You didn't," she said softly. "I like you, too."
Erik's taller frame appeared to grow even straighter. The amber eyes now lit with a fire that Raoul believed might have given off heat. "Impossible. I move quickly when unencumbered."
"Be that as it may, I will not agree to this charade if I do not attend."
Erik did something Raoul had never witnessed before. He harrumphed and then shook his head while crossing his arms over his chest. "No. Not possible."
"What?" Raoul challenged. "That we agree to work together or that you are impossible."
Erik straightened, and Raoul's gaze shot straight to the telltale white of the cuffs of Erik's jacket. He tensed, ready to rear back if one of those damned cat-gut loops appeared in Erik's slim fingers.
The Phantom snorted. "Now I'm impossible?" He half turned and shook his head. When he spoke his voice was laced with humor. It made the hair on Raoul's neck crawl. "Anything is possible. Nothing is certain. Only truth and when has a man ever failed to stumble over that and claim it was just a loose board?"
The younger man waited, watching the elder with the intensity of a hound running a rabbit to its warren. When it was clear to him that Erik was not going to allow his participation, he played the only remaining hand that fate had somehow dealt him. "Would you trust me to do this for your wife without you knowing?"
"Now who is absurd?" Erik said nothing else, only turned smartly upon a heel and headed for the back of the house. Raoul followed swiftly, keeping an eye on the unfamiliar terrain. Erik stopped abruptly and glance over his shoulder. "I'll send word to the hotel through Nadir."
"Room 211."
With a curt nod, the Phantom stepped out into the breeze behind the corner of the house. He took a few steps and lifted an arm. "There you are, ladies. We thought the wind might have blown you away."
Raoul joined the group, walking a wide path around Erik to come to Christine's side. Her cold hand slid into his warmer, larger one. "You are chill," he whispered to her.
"I'm fine," she replied, her upturned face looked serene.
He walked back to the house following the Phantom and his wife, who he escorted with an arm entwined with hers. Once inside the kitchen, the two maids stood before the door that must join the dining room.
The younger was wringing her hands in her apron. Mirielle asked, "What is it?"
The maid nodded towards the door. "I went to check upon your guests."
"And? Are they all right?"
"Right as rain," the older maid replied with a grin. "You should make some noise before you go in there."
A look passed between the Phantom and his wife. Christine looked up at him from beneath her lashes. A pink flush rose upon her cheeks.
Erik cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that carried. "I'm glad you enjoyed your walk. Shall we rejoin Nadir and Catherine?"
Raoul held the door open for the party and waited until his wife passed through the door. He nodded politely to the maids, dipped into a curtsey. It was startling to think they were practitioners of a rare religion. After all, like the rest of the family, with the exception of Erik, they appeared so ordinary.
