By the time Phillip Lefevre has received Nina's letter and made it to London, there were only two days until the assizes, just two days until a group of strangers would decide the fate of another stranger, who just so happened to be her husband. Nina was, understandably, in a very distraught state when Lefevre turned up in the parlor of Victor and Emily's home.
"Oh, my dear girl, it is quite great to see you." He said with a small smile as his eyes landed on his very distressed invitor. "Though of course I wish it could be through better circumstances."
Nina smiled tearfully at him and rose to take his hand and hold it in hers. "You cannot understand how very much I am glad to see you, as well." She said, still smiling through her tears. As her warm flesh touched his, there was a moment where his heart pounded frighteningly within his chest, as if it was a bird beating at a cage to try and escape it. But then it stilled, and the rushing in his ears was silent, and he turned to look at the other man and woman in the room.
"These are my friends," Nina said to him, sighing off her tears quickly to turn to them. "Victor and Emily. They have been very good to me, but no more than they have been these past weeks." She had told him quite a bit in the thick letter she had sent him, about the allegations, the trials, the fear, her friends, and desperate state. He had thought of her often since their parting, and it hurt him to know that she had found such happiness only to have it abruptly ripped out of her.
"Thank you for allowing me," He said, bowing his head deeply to Victor before taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "And you, Madame." He bowed and gave a grateful smile to Emily, which she returned in quite a pleasant way. "I think now shall be a good time to begin business." Nina nodded in an agreement and they sat, Nina beside Emily and the young lawyer opposite the three of them.
He had carried in a case with him, which he now opened over his lap. Within, he pulled out several pieces of the letter he had received, and Nina was somewhat embarassed to see that the paper was somewhat warped and the ink blotched from where her emotions had escaped her while writing.
"From what you informed me of, I believe the allegations are as follows: murder of multiple men, kidnapping, extortion, theft, falsifying documents," He paused momentarily to swallow, his eyes refusing to meet those of the others in the room. "Rape, torture, and obscene conduct."
He looked up at Victor. "Perhaps the ladies should not be present for this discussion."
Victor seemed as if he was about to agree when both Nina and Emily shot him looks of the great annoyance, and he closed his mouth again. "They shall remain for as long as they please. They are no strangers to the horrors of this world."
Silently, Phillip wondered what Victor meant exactly by that, but thought it best not to derail the topic.
"I am sorry to say that it will be a very difficult task to acquit your husband of these charges, Nina. Very difficult, indeed." He exhaled for a moment and rubbed his hand against his temple. He had been a lawyer for some years now, but he had never worked regarding these kinds of subjects. He resolved petty disputes over land and the annulments of businesses, not rape and murder. He was secretly worried he would not be able to help whatsoever in a situation this grim, but he pushed that thought aside. There was no reason doubting himself, it would only make things even more dire. He was the only one who could help Nina and her husband; she had informed him in her letter that no lawyer was willing to risk their reputation on what they had referred to as 'that scum'. He was her only chance now.
When he looked up, he instantly regretted his last few words. Nina was staring at him distantly, looking very pale and as if she was about to faint at any moment. Quickly, he reassured her by saying, "However, I believe that if we work with another we can successfully exit this situation."
From that point they discussed the situation, what evidence they had that may convince the jurisdiction that Erik was not the perpetrator of any crimes besides that of defending his wife from an insane individual who had previously assaulted her and who was already known for his violent tendencies. As a man of God, Phillip knew that he was, most likely, doing wrong by defending someone he suspected was responsible for at least some of these charges, if not all. But personally, he believed execution itself to be an act against God, and if he could prevent one then he would, and he would do so with no hesitation and no regrets. And then , of course, the agitated young woman in front of him that he still felt for was relying on him for her future, for her happiness, and for, as she told him, her life. He would defy the rules of Heaven if it meant helping her; he was quite sure God would understand his reasoning.
After a very long and emotionally exhausting afternoon, Phillip Lefevre at last stood to leave in order to return to his London home and go over the notes he had taken, and to try and form a plan. He now had a little over a day left. In the morning he would go to meet the accused at Newgate and to inform him of the current goings-on and to, perhaps, bring him some hope.
Nina embraced him about eleven times as the four spoke their last few words on the doorstep, and then Phillip had gone once more from the beautiful young lady's usually pleasant company. Despite her greatly depressed attitude, when he left her it felt as if a candle within him had been blown out.
A half hour later he found himself in his very dusty and very empty London home. He had not been here for some months, and the place felt almost ghostly in its silence when he stepped through the front door. He sat at the neglected dining room table which he had bought with the intention of sitting there with a wife and children, and strewned his notes all about the table.
Distracted by the emptiness, Phillip found himself doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do: he searched for evidence of Erik's guiltiness. After a while, he was disturbed to find that Scotland Yard really had seemed to have found the right individual. He had left Paris at the right time, his acommedies were inexplicably gained, he matched the physical description to a tee, and he retained the same unearthly musical talents. Exhausted and with a bit of fear within him, Phillip decided to leave the papers be and return to bed early.
When he had finally rested his head upon his pillow, however, he found that he couldnt fall asleep. Instead he stared with great mental exhaustion at the empty space of bed beside him. Suddenly, he had a very nasty thought. If Nina's husband was not acquited, he would be hanged, and Nina would be a widow. He could have her then, after an acceptable amount of time passed in order for her to mourn. If he purposefully lost the case, she could be his. This thought both surprised and upset him, and he turned to stare at the wall instead. He was better than that; he was quite surprised he had even allowed himself to consider the thought of it. But still, the evil thought crept back into him again, and it wasn't for several hours that he banished it long enough to fall asleep.
Phillip rose in the morning feeling as if he had not slept at all. He stopped for a short breakfast before making his way to Newgate. He had been here only a few times, but the vast brick prison always instilled him with the same feeling of utter horror. Though he had rarely been here, he knew the contents well and recounted them as he entered the monument to suffering. Before him was where the male criminals were held, to his right the women. To the left were kept debtors of all sorts. Though containing different groups of individuals, each place echoed the same noises of crime, adversity, and torment. If there was any place in the world filled with horrors, it was Newgate. The smell alone was enough to make him rigid in his footsteps as he headed down the middle path to the male prisoners, and further down the path to where individuals awaiting trial were kept. The prison was grotesquely overcrowded, but Erik had been kept in an empty and isolated segment of hallway. When he asked the guards there why, they grunted and said it was to keep him away from the rest. They were afraid, they said, of him corrupting the corrupted.
Phillip had heard Erik's music once before, and it had left him speechless. It was as if something very beautiful and very scary had gone through, as if the spirit of some passed beauty had swept herself through him and graced him with her presence. When it had gone, though, he recalled it with great fondness for its beautiful melodies and crafted composition. This was equally entrancing, but its effect on him was quite the opposite as before. He did not know the language of the words being sung, but he knew that what they spoke was quite disturbing. The melody itself seemed almost upsetting, but it felt as if he could not move away from it. It brought to mind the sirens of Ancient Greece, and how they sang their seductive songs to drown sailors caught in the web of their voices. Erik was, perhaps, the very modern descendant of these sirens and their songful secrets. It certainly felt that way to him now.
He stood, transfixed and listening, and nearly jumped when it abruptly stopped and was replaced by a very haughty and annoyed voice which he instantly recognized.
"If you're going to stand there all day listening you might as well let me know who the hell you are."
"Hello, Monsieur Perrault." Lefevre said, forcing himself to look into the man's eyes rather than at his face.
"Ah, young Monsieur Lefevre, how nice it is to see you." Erik said, smirking at the man as his eyes widened for a short moment. "You are surprised I remember you, but I will let you know. When one has a face like mine, they never forget the face of another. Jealousy instills memory in the spirit, you know." He said, disinterestedly. He was sitting on a bare stone floor with his legs crossed like some Indian fakir preparing himself for a levitation, and, though he had again and again prepared himself for the sight of the man, the extent of his deformity truly did shock him.
"If your memory is so well, I am sure that you will recall I am a man of the law. Your wife wrote to me and, at her desperation, I have come to represent you during the assizes."
At this information, Erik lost his smug smirk, and his eyes emptied of their malice. "You've spoken with Nina?" He asked, though he gave no time for an answer. "How is she? I worry about her; she does not handle things well emotionally."
Phillip gave a short nod in agreement. "She is very disheartened, but still hopeful." He looked at the floor momentarily. "Your absence has greatly affected her."
Erik did not say anything, but when Phillip looked up into the man's eyes again he found him watching him intently, studying him as if he could see straight into his soul. What he said next seemed to add on to this very unnerving feeling of him seeming to read his thoughts.
"I know you feel for my wife greatly." He said. "I know all of what occurred between the two of you upon the English channel." For a moment, Phillip's heart pounded wildly again just as it had done the day before when Nina had held her hands in his. What would he do to him, this murderer, if he knew the extent of his desires? Would he kill him if he had the chance? He had to focus on staying still, because if he did not he felt very certain that his body would try to flee away from this man. He could easily grab him through the bars and pull him close enough to wrap his hands around his throat. His heart beat even faster, and that same evil thought that had occurred to him last night crept up into him again.
"You and I both know a chance of acquittal is very, very small," Erik continued while Phillip attempted to make himself appear calm and collected. "So in the very likely chance that I am, uh, extinguished," He gave a small grin at this. "I want you to care for her. Marry her, if she will have you. You are quite young but I know you to be a sensible man."
Phillip realized, after a moment, that his mouth was open in astonishment and he quickly closed it. "I. . . I don't know wha-"
"Never mind that, boy, just listen to me carefully," He said, suddenly changing the tone of his voice and his amount of patience. "Do you have some spare paper to write on?" Lefevre nodded. "Good. Now, copy this address down. . . ."
It's been a year since I updated. Oops... I do have an excuse, though! I have ben struggling greatly with my health, as my pancreas is now not just destroying itself but also my surrounding organs. As you might imagine, this is really, really inconvenient and sucky. But I'm slowly but surely piecing my life back together and guess what? I have more chapters, including the ending, already written and just waiting for a quick edit in order to be published. Then we can finally finish this thing. Sorry for making you wait this long, but I appreciate your patience. :)