XXXVI

Meg watched as her friend sat on the bench of the dressing room, slowly tying her Pointe shoes and fiddling with the practise skirts. They had to help with a class in ten minutes, but Christine had been acting strangely all morning. She had barely touched her breakfast and had been quiet all through practise, and she hadn't had any lunch.

"What's wrong, Christine?" Meg asked, sitting down beside her.

"Nothing," Christine answered, placing her hands between her knees, "I guess I'm just a little tired."

"Are you sick?" Meg persisted, "you look a bit pale."

"No," Christine sighed, "I'm not sick…come on, we'll be late."

Meg caught her arm as she headed for the door, "Maybe you should go home and get some sleep."

"I'm fine, Meg!" Christine replied more harshly than she intended, "come on, Madame will wonder where we are."

Meg nodded her head and followed Christine out of the dressing room and towards the sounds of the girls chattering before lessons started. She couldn't be sure what was wrong; she had been fine the day before. Perfectly happy and cheerful, though a bit rushed. The only thing she could think of was the supper with Raoul, and wondered if something had happened. She knew that Christine was thinking about her relationship with him, after all, they had talked about it.

"Christine," Meg said before they stepped into the room, "maybe we could go shopping after the lessons and get some hot chocolate and pastries at the café?"

"I don't know, Meg…"

"Please?" Meg asked, pouting a bit, "it'll be fun, and we haven't done it in a long time."

"Well…alright," Christine sighed, "that sounds…fun, I guess."

Meg smiled brightly and hurried into the room, where Antoinette gave them stern looks, "You are late."

"Sorry," they both murmured.

The class was oddly long that day, and by the time they were changed and ready to go home the weather had turned. Sheets of cold rain fell from the sky, leaving the streets bright and empty. Christine and Meg stood in the entrance of the theatre and let out low groans. Even if they could obtain a carriage or catch the omnibus, they knew that by the time they were inside they would both be soaked.

"Do we have enough money for a carriage?" Meg asked meekly.

"I doubt it, and we'd never be able to catch one in this weather," Christine sighed.

"Maybe we could wait it out," Meg suggested, though the dark clouds did not look as if they would let up any time soon, "it might stop soon."

"We'd be here all night," Christine sighed, watching as a carriage splashed down the streets, its wheels and the hooves of the drenched horse sending up sprays of water, "but maybe there'll be a break in the rain…or we could just walk."

"We'd be soaked!"

"Its just water, Meg. It won't kill you."

"What if we got sick? Maman would kill us for walking home."

Christine sighed and opened the door, stepping out into the cold air and deciding that it would be wiser to wait inside the warm theatre rather than under the large overhang. Meg was right, they would get sick if they walked home, or at the very least they would be very cold.

"Well?" Meg asked.

"I think we should wait," Christine said, moving to one of the uncomfortable chairs of the lobby, "you're right; we'd get sick walking home in that."

Meg followed her and sat down in the chair beside her, placing her satchel on the floor and sighing heavily, "And I had really wanted to get some hot chocolate."

"We can get some if it stops raining," Christine murmured.

"You seem really down today," Meg commented, hoping not to upset her friend, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Christine said, running one fingernail under another, "there's really nothing to talk about…"

"Oh…"

"Meg, you and Madame are going away in a few days, right?" Christine asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. We're going to visit her cousin, I think. It'll only be for one night. I'm sorry that you couldn't come."

"Its fine," Christine assured her, "I can take care of myself."

"Well, maybe you could come," Meg suggested, "or stay somewhere. It will be lonely at the house by yourself."

"I'll only be alone for one night," Christine murmured, "I think the rain is letting up; we should get going before it starts again."

Erik slammed the door as he entered the house, soaking wet and dripping on the floor. He heard the maid give a small scream at the sound of the door, and stormed into the parlour to enjoy the heat of the fire. That immediately got her to stick her head into the room.

"My goodness, Monsieur!" she clucked, "You're soaked through. GO and get changed right now, I'll make some tea."

Erik rolled his eyes, "I do believe that you work for me, therefore I do not have to do what you tell me."

"You'll get to be terribly sick if you don't get out of those wet clothes right now," she scolded, bustling up behind his and shooing him away from the fire, "go, go! You're dripping all over the floor and I wont' have you getting sick. Hurry up now!"

Erik grumbled and turned away, pulling his shoulder away as she tried to push him along, "Fine, I'll change my damn clothes!"

"Good, hurry now."

Erik snorted softly as he changed into dry clothes. He had been standing around and walking in the same wet clothes all day. Well, at least since the rain had started. With an irritable sigh he tugged at the sleeve of his fresh shirt to ensure it was straight and quickly buttoned it up before heading back to the parlour, where the maid had set a cup of tea on the desk.

"I'm off now, there's some soup on the stove, though I know you won't eat it," she said, putting on her hat and coat, "have a good evening."

Erik sighed and picked up the cup of tea, swallowing the scorching liquid in one gulp before going into the kitchen. Sure enough there was a pot of soup on the stove, filling the air with the scent of onions. He gave a small sigh as his stomach growled and resigned himself to eating a meal. Onion soup wasn't so bad, after all.

The next day he spent at his desk, working on the meticulous sketch of the large house. It was turning out far better than he had imagined something which pleased him greatly. The maid, of course, bustled around in the background for the greater part of the morning, and much of the afternoon, berating him on spending so much time staring at a piece of paper.

"It isn't health," she said, shaking her head, "you need to eat and get out in the fresh air."

Erik gave her a questioning look and glanced out the window at the dreary weather, "yes, I am sure that taking a walk in this weather would do me good."

She puffed at that, "Humph, fine, but when you have a splitting headache from staring at all those blasted lines, don't complain tome."

"Believe me," Erik muttered under his breath, "I would not."

"Pardon?"

He ignored her by turning back to his sketch. It was almost finished; he just needed to work out the rest of the floor plan.

"Fine," the maid chirped, "I'm off for the day then."

Erik waved his hand irritably as she bundled herself up and left the house, closing the door loudly behind her. He was beginning to wonder why he had the maid, she proved to be more of a nuisance than anything else. Though he spent enough time out of the house that it didn't really matter. It was only when he was working that she caused any trouble.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and by the time he pulled himself away from his work he admitted to the headache that was throbbing dully in his temples. He gave a small groan and pinched the bridge of his nose before going into the kitchen to find something to eat. A loaf of bread and cheese suited him well and he quickly prepared a small meal before finding his cloak and leaving the house. A bit of fresh air would be nice, and he preferred the city at night. There were less people to bother him and no workers to complain to him while he observed the construction.