XXXVII

"You're sure?" Meg asked.

"Yes!" Christine exclaimed in fake exasperation.

"Meg, we have to go, my dear," Antoinette said, "Christine, I trust that you will be fine for one night. We will be in Épône visiting my cousin."

"I know," Christine replied, "I'll be fine here."

"Very well, au revoir."

"Bye," Christine said, accepting a small hug from Antoinette and a larger one from Meg.

"You know if-"

"Good bye, Meg," Christine said, pushing her friend towards the door, "the carriage is waiting!"

Antoinette took her daughter's had Meg go to the carriage before her and turned back to Christine, "Are you certain that you will be alright?"

"Yes," Christine replied quietly, knowing that Antoinette had been worried over her, "its only one night, and your cousin is expecting you. I promise, I'll be fine."

"Very well, there is bread and cheese in the kitchen, and money in the drawer, if you wish to go and purchase something," Antoinette said, patting her hand, "we will be back tomorrow evening."

Christine nodded and Antoinette went and climbed into the carriage. A moment later it jolted forward and clattered away. Once it was gone, Christine allowed the small smile to fade from her face and went back into the house. Already it was eerily quiet and empty and it unnerved her. With a small sigh she went into the parlour and picked a book off the shelf before curling up in the armchair to read it.

It wasn't long before the silence of the house became unnerving. She was so used to Meg prattling on about something, Madame being in the kitchen, or a fire crackling in the hearth that the utter silence was bothersome.

She closed the book and placed it on the table with a dull thud before getting up and wandering through the house. Even the sound of her own footsteps was comforting in the silence and she went up to her room and picked her brush off of the dressing table and caught site of the violin hidden in the corner of the room. She placed the brush back on the table and went to pick up the case.

Once again she opened it and removed the violin, placing it on the bed and then taking up the bow and looking at it. It was in good condition, surprisingly, considering how long it had been in the case. None of the hairs seemed to be damaged, in fact it looked perfect. She reached into the case and took the rosin out and began to apply it the bow as her father had always done, she then lifted the violin and placed it under her chin and drew the bow across the strings.

It wasn't tuned, she knew that immediately, but the sound wasn't as terrible as she had thought it would be. Her father had once taught her to play a song on the violin. It had been terribly difficult for her, as her hands were so small. But he had always praised her and followed up by playing her favourite song…Erik had played that song for her once. Most likely on the very violin she held in her hand.

She sighed quietly and placed the violin back on the bed, laying the bow beside it before gently placing hem back in the case. She glanced down at her finger and the sapphire engagement ring that now rested upon it and, with a small twist, pulled it off and locked it in the drawer of the dressing table before closing the violin case and lifting it off the bed.

She couldn't remember where the envelope had gone after the night she had confronted Meg and Antoinette, but she had a feeling that Madame had not thrown it away, so she carefully went through the book shelf downstairs and then proceeded to go through the varying drawers that it might be found in. She finally discovered it hidden under another letter in Antoinette's drawer. She took it out and quickly found her cloak and the violin case. She would go before she had a chance to change her mind.

She didn't bother to find a carriage, she wasn't sure that she would be able to pay for one, but instead began the walk to the address. She was not entirely sure where the street was, but with a bit of help she managed to find it and make her way to the small house, violin case held firmly in one hand and envelope clutched tightly in the other.

"This is it," she murmured, glancing back down at the address and then at the house again. It was small than she would have imagined. With a deep breath she went up to the door and rapped her knuckles firmly against it.

No one answered for what seemed like ages, and then footsteps could be heard in the hallway and the sound of a lock clicking greeted her ears. Her heart pounded in her chest as the door opened and she immediately wondered what she would say and how he would react.

"Yes, dear?" an older woman asked.

"Oh," Christine gasped, the sight of the maid catching her off guard. She was such a friendly looking woman, a bit round with rosy cheeks and kind brown eyes, "I…is-is Erik, err. Is Monsieur Sabina here?"

The maid gave a warm smile and a small chuckle, "No, he isn't in right now, I'm afraid."

"Oh…"Christine said, her heart dropping, "well, thank you. Have a good day, Madame."

"Wait a moment," the maid said, clucking her tongue, "why don't you come in and wait for him, I'm sure he won't be back too late."

"I don't know," Christine said, tapping the violin case, "I don't want to be any rouble."

"None at all," the maid said, ushering her into the front hall, "why don't you go and sit in the parlour?"

Christine gave a small nod and went into the small room, sitting on the single armchair that occupied the room. She quickly noted the desk in the corner, and the many papers strewn across it. Carefully she set the violin case down beside the chair and looked around. It was so strange to be in his house.

"He's out working today," the maid told her, straightening a pile of papers, "goodness, he is a messy person. I can't ever keep this place straightened for more than a few hours when he's around."

"Is he home often?" Christine asked.

"It depends. Sometimes he spends hours just sitting here and doing whatever it is he does, other times he's out and about for days on end."

"I see."

"But, like I said, he should be home fairly soon, though predicting his moves isn't exactly easy. He's a bit odd, you know? I'm sure if he knew that you were coming, though, he wouldn't keep you waiting."

"He doesn't actually know I'm here," Christine murmured, "I-I just kind of decided to come today."

"Oh, well none the less."

Christine gave a small smile and shifted in the chair. The maid seemed very friendly at least, though she could feel her courage failing her slowly. It would have been better if he had opened the door, that way she would have immediately known how he felt He could have either invited her in or sent her away. Simple. Now she was stuck waiting in his parlour for him to return.

"Why are you here?"

"Pardon?" Christine asked, looking up at the maid.

"I was just wondering what you were here for," the maid asked, "I'd assume you must be a friend, or else an acquaintance of sorts, but he never really talks about anyone. You'd think he didn't know anybody."

Christine gave a small, strained laugh, "He, umm, designed a house for a close friend, actually," Christine said, making up a plausible story as she went, "before he came to Paris. I-I actually came to return something…"

Erik sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the worker prattled on about all the problems they were having. Really there should have been no problems. It was a small project, something an imbecile could deal with, but apparently there was something that involved rain and an unexpected death.

"I really do not care!" Erik said, exasperated.

"B-but…we're short four workers and-"

"Deal with it," Erik interrupted, "this project in no way needs the number of workers that were working. Simply finish it without them."

"But-but with all the rain, and then-"

"I do not need excuses," Erik growled, "get back to work!"

The worker scowled a bit, but nodded his head, "Fine, but we're done for the day at least."

Erik shook his head and stormed away from the house with a disgruntled snort. He hated working with people; they always got on his nerves. All they ever seemed to do was complain about one thing or another.

The walk home was somewhat calming, it gave him time to think and work out the problems of the day. He decided that upon returning home he would have a hot bath and spend the night either reading or working on house designs. He was thinking about searching for a larger commission, something that would involve intricate details. Armand probably knew of someone who was searching for an architect, perhaps he could use the man for something after all.

He sighed when he finally reached the house and reached for the handle. The door opened before he could even touch the cool metal and the maid appeared. He gave her a half-hearted scowl for being in his way.

"Oh, I was just heading off," she said cheerfully, "oh, there's-"

"I know," he grumbled, assuming she would inform him that there was something for supper in the kitchen, "good bye."

She gave a small squawk as he pushed past and closed the door. He didn't give it a second thought and went towards the parlour, loosening his cravat slightly. He was barely in the door when he saw her sitting in the chair, twisting a dark curl nervously around her finger. Apparently he made a noise, for she suddenly turned around and her eyes widened as she jumped out of the chair.

"Erik!" she gasped, "I-I didn't hear you come in."

A/N: Ooh, a chapter! Its not very long, but its something. I'll try to get somethign up again soon, though I am currently muddling over an idea for a screenplay...and I've got nothing! (cries). Oh well, I've got all weekend to think of one...curse you writer's craft. CURSE YOU! Umm, oh yeah...REVIEW!