My, when I stir the pot I get oodles of wonderful reviews. Thank you for your comments. Did most of you guess the last chapter's ending? Read on… (Thanks Amy and Kay for your help)

CH 52 The Letter

The vision of Erik and Christine dissolved into a white swirling mist at the same instant I heard Erik's voice calling out to me anxiously.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle, wake up darling, please!" Erik was shaking me while I continued to shriek and sob, beating my fists into a pillow.

"E-E-Erik, don't do this!"

"Don't do what, my little dove?"

"Please, don't leave me…I love you so!"

"I love you too, my darling." He hugged me, shushing me as if I were a fussy babe.

"Gabrielle, you were having night terrors, a bad dream— that's all it was. Your brain was deceiving you, discovering your deepest fears and making them seem real. As you are all too aware, I too have them. Remember they are not real."

"Y-Yes, but it was just so real, Erik. I dreamt you left me at the altar." I clung to him; still not sure I was free from that hellish dream.

"How ghastly! You do know that I would never do such a horrible thing to you Gabrielle."

He leaned forward and his voice softened; he wiped damp strands of hair from my face and caressed my cheek, trying to sooth me.

"Shhh, breath deeply, in…out. Yes, there, all better now?"

I nodded and sniffed, "I'm sorry to wake you. I know you had a heck of a night at the opera."

"No worries, darling. You've had your share of night terrors with me. I see it as fair you have your turn. It must be that Vincenzo; he's planted fear in your mind. I think I might well go and, as you say, open a can of whoop arse on him."

I managed to laugh, "How silly, and sweet. Thanks." I kissed his nose and ran my hands gently over both sides of his face. Erik closed his eyes, relishing the feel of my flesh upon his.

"Let me fetch you a glass of water…and laudanum to help you sleep, if you wish."

"I shouldn't take too much of that stuff, Erik. I don't think I'll need it. Well, maybe I will, the dream was truly terrifying. Sure, bring it to me anyway. I'll have just a drop."

My decision sent Erik on his way for water and medication. I slumped back into the pillows and turned my head from side to side attempting to work out some kinks in my neck.

Sheesh Gab, what's up with you? Just because the Comtess is a widow does not mean she had designs on your man—even if she is beautiful, and talented, and available. I don't think I imagined the electricity zipping between those two as they chatted it up in the Lyric's lobby. Erik seems okay; he's being exceptionally loving and attentive to me.

Do not worry about what you cannot prove, I told myself.

Erik pushed open the bedroom door. He held a glass of water and the laudanum bottle in his hands.

"You know, I'm not found of using narcotics, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep again without assistance," I reasoned aloud.

"A drop won't do you any harm. I will not allow you to fall into the deceptive comfort of addiction, Gabrielle." Erik approached the bed and set the medicine and water on the nightstand.

"Scoot over a tad, will you dear?" He perched next to me on the bed and prepared the bitter concoction for me to drink.

"Your magic elixir, Madame." He held the laudanum-laced water out to me. I accepted it warily.

"How do people get addicted to this stuff? It tastes and smells like rat turds."

"Are you an aficionado of such things, Gabrielle?"

I glared at him over the rim of the glass while ingesting its contents.

"Bletch!" I shimmied with revulsion.

"Such a good girl, here, I brought you a chocolate to chase the laudanum."

Erik fished a foil wrapped truffle from the pocket of his silk robe and held it out to me. I'd seen him offer treats to his horses in much the same way.

"You sweet, thoughtful man! Thank you." I plucked it from his hand. "Would you prefer that I whinny first?" I giggled.

"If it pleases you, dear."

I gobbled up the sweet and tossed the foil on the table, trying not to dwell on what eating sugar before bed and not brushing would do for my teeth.

Erik rounded the bed and slipped back under the covers, positioning his body flush with mine. I lay my head on his chest and he slid an arm around my shoulder.

"Better now, darling?"

"I think so; that laudanum works fast." The residual anxiety from my dream was fading quickly.

It was the ring of china against china that stirred me from my sleep. With most of my head buried in the pillow, I peeped out of my left eye and saw the silhouette of Madame Roux bending down to place a tray on the bedside table.

"Good morning Madam, are you ready to face the day?" Normally Marie Roux's voice would have been tinged with frustration. In her book sleeping beyond the crack of dawn was for outré Bohemians.

"Monsieur DuPuis requested that I take care not to wake you. He said the cool night air left you with a headache and so I've brought you hot tea with mint and an almond scone with honey."

"Marie, you're an angel, bless you."

I pushed my self into the sitting position and accepted the steaming cup of tea that Marie held out to me. The bergamot and mint smelled divine and I inhaled the steam with relish.

"Ummm, I'm better already. Thank you."

She lingered, messing about with the teapot and rearranging the plates and utensils on the silver tray.

"If I may ask, how was your evening at the opera?"

"Really amazing, first of all the Lyric is a beautiful piece of architecture. It's modeled after the baroque mansions of Spain. Then there's the clothes, I've never seen so many people trying to outdo one another, each one more garish than the next! If they only knew how silly they looked. But oh, Marie, Erik's music was phenomenal and the performance, it was unlike anything I've ever seen or heard. I'm gushing, aren't I?"

"You're in love, why shouldn't you be enthusiastic? He too was pleased. The look on his face when you descended the stairs last night; he was enchanted."

Enchanted, the exact word that came to mind last night when Christine complimented Erik on his opera. I lowered my eyes to the teacup in my hand.

"Erik had only good things to saw about the performance. Yes Marie, the evening was nearly perfect."

"Only nearly perfect? How so?"

"Marie, do you have a moment? I need to talk with you, woman to woman."

She frowned with concern and pulled out the chair from beneath the side desk, moving it closer to the bed.

"Gabrielle, what is troubling you dear?"

I was reluctant to reveal what may be seen a petty concern, but I needed feedback from someone in the know, someone who knew the history of the Phantom of the Opera.

Cautiously, I began, "First off, I want you to know that I'm aware of many of Erik's darkest him secrets. I know of the Phantom, of his childhood and of Christine."

Madame Roux's face remained impassive, I'm sure she and her sister had had frequent conversations concerning Monsieur DuPuis' unusual houseguest/cook turned fiancée.

Marie rose from the chair and crossed over to my dressing table where she picked up my large bristled brush, turning it over in her hands. "My, what an oddly crafted brush; wherever did you find such and unusual accessory?"

I'd purchased the post twentieth century brush only three days before my trip to New York for the opening of Sweet Charity, and I didn't want to part with it for one of those silver-handled bristle brushes that did little more than skim the outer layer of my thick mane.

Why this sudden interest in my hairbrush? I surmised that she must have been buying time for an appropriate answer to my admission of knowing many dark details of Erik's former life.

"Oh that," I answered duly, "My dear departed husband brought that back from one of his many travels, Marie. I'm not sure exactly where he picked it up. Unusual, is it not?"

"Most, I've never laid eyes on such a unique piece," she agreed. Crossing back with the brush in her hand, the woman sat down next to me on the bed.

"Here, Gabrielle, allow me to brush your lovely hair for you. It has been many years since I've done so for my daughter, Caron." Her voice was soft and gentle.

"What a nice gesture Marie, I could use some tender loving care, or TLC as we like to say back home." I scooted down to sit in front of Marie and let her untangle my wavy copper brown hair."

"Marie, I don't want you to betray a confidence, but something unplanned happened last night." She paused in her brushing when I turned to search her eyes.

"My sister told me many a time how life at the Opera Garnier was a veritable melodrama. Please dear, continue," she replied steadily.

"Well, last evening, as Erik and I were making our way through the lobby of the Lyric, we were approached by Christine de Chagny."

This time the older woman's eyes revealed her surprise.

"My word! How did Monsieur DuPuis take to such an unprecedented occurrence? Surely he was taken aback after six years."

I turned back around for Marie to resume my grooming.

"Oh yes. At first he tried to ignore her but she caught up with us so, out of courtesy he had to stop and address her. Erik was cool and indifferently polite; then she mentioned how much she loved his opera and that she was now a wealthy widow. The piece de resistance came when Christine planted a seed in his mind that she might enjoy a return to the stage…if only Erik would consent to tutor her again."

"Good heavens, Gabrielle! How did he respond?"

"Well, it was like he…melted. His walls came down and I could sense the gratitude for her praise and of his extreme sorrow over the loss of her husband. He did introduce me as his fiancée and was appropriate in his affections to me, but Christine, she was, I don't know, solicitous of him."

"Solicitous? How so, Gabrielle?"

"Oh Marie, I can't quite put my finger on it. Perhaps I'm being a jealous woman, but this is Christine I'm talking about here. There is tremendous history with them that's not easy to forget."

"No dear," Marie leaned forward to make her point. "Monsieur DuPuis adores you; there is no question of it. As for his relationship with the Comtess, I believe I am correct in saying they've not spoken since the night of the fire at the Opera Garnier. Please understand Gabrielle, Erik and Christine went through a sort of personal awakening; they were in a sense each other's first love, a forbidden love that could never be. One never forgets regardless of how ill advised they are."

Damn, she certainly hit the target on that one.

"That is true in many cases, Marie, but their liaison was so intense. Do you think a woman such as Christine would attempt to rekindle the flame?"

Marie's gaze drifted to the side as if thinking on my query. "From what I know of the Comtess, she is an honorable woman. I cannot imagine she would conspire to interferer with Monsieur DuPuis affairs now that he is engaged, it would be dreadfully reproachful."

"Losing her nearly killed Erik, and now she is free. You know Marie, I'm surprised that Erik wasn't aware of her widowhood the way he has his nose in the newspaper."

Marie shifted on the bed, "Perhaps the paper did not reach him when the Comte's death notice was posted. It is possible; he often has his nose buried in other pursuits, he hardly ever takes a break when composing."

"I know, but eventually someone would have told him about it, right?"

"Dear child, those who care for Erik are mindful not to upset him. News of the Comte's death could have caused any number of unforeseen reactions. He is happy now, why complicate his life with upsetting news?"

"It makes no sense— Erik is a composer, he makes it his business to know everything having to do with the world of Opera. The death of a major arts patron and husband of a popular former diva is big news."

Then it hit me. "You knew, didn't you Marie?"

She considered me carefully before answering, "Indeed dear, I did know. Monsieur Khan made an impromptu early morning call to the Manor. He wished to speak with Henri and me before Monsieur DuPuis awoke. He advised us to destroy the day's newspaper with the Comte's death notice. The Persian swore us to secrecy never to tell Monsieur DuPuis of the Comte's sudden death. In his wisdom, he believed that by the time Erik ventured out into the public where someone might be imprudent enough to tell him, he would no longer care."

"No longer care about what…Christine? Oh, I find that highly unlikely, Marie."

"The Comte de Chagny's accident occurred eleven months ago, Gabrielle. Monsieur DuPuis' interests were elsewhere."

"Elsewhere, you mean his opera?"

She gave me her best you-know-what-I-mean look.

"Child, do not feign ignorance. Monsieur was taken with you from the moment he brought you to the manor."

"You kept mum because of me? And here I thought you disapproved of me all of those months ago, Marie. Wow." Smack my ass and call me Sally.

"Gabrielle, Monsieur DuPuis is an unusual man, a difficult man. Yet all men deserve the happiness that only a wife and family can provide. It is a rare woman who will dedicate her time and patience in loving him. You are that rare woman. I cannot deny that your presence in this house is the will of God."

I placed the empty teacup on the silver tray, pinched off a piece of the scone and rolled the morsel around in my hand while I addressed Madame Roux, "I cannot believe that you, Monsieur Roux, and Monsieur Khan, all banded together in the name of Erik's well being. If he knew he would first be livid, then grateful."

"I've no delusions that his wrath would be considerable, which is why you mustn't say a word to anyone, least of all him."

I held up my palms and chuckled, "Oh, you'll not have to worry about me, Marie. I'm all about peace and harmony, especially this close to the wedding."

"A wise decision. As for the Comtess de Chagny, I believe she poses no threat Gabrielle, but do be mindful dear; seeing her again must be a shock to Monsieur DuPuis. It may take him time to disentangle his thoughts from the memories caused by such a precipitous event. Do you understand what I am saying?"

I picked at my cuticles and thought for a moment how to respond. I did understand; it's always weird when an old flame pops up out of thin air. I hoped that whatever emotions Christine had stirred up in Erik would quickly dissipate much like my old life had. Bye, bye, Christine, get lost in a time tear please, I thought.

"Yes Marie, I understand completely," I looked her in the eye so there would be no mistaking the depth of my answer.

"I've no doubt you do, dear. Think of it no more. Eat your scone and ready yourself for the day. Should you need me, I'll be doing the wash."

"Okay, and thanks for understanding. I don't want to come across as a jealous shrew. Think of me as a…a vigilant fiancée."

Marie smiled and rose from the chair to lay a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Indeed, you are a loving bride, Gabrielle. Nerves are playing games on your mind. It is only normal."

"You're right, o wise one."

Marie chuffed at my compliment and took her leave.

Eventually I pushed the worries from my mind, dressed and went downstairs to see what was stirring within the walls of DuPuis manor. All was status quo—quiet and orderly, Marie was in the back ironing, Henri was polishing tack in the barn and Erik was…nowhere to be found; a fact that didn't concern me much as he was prone to slipping away into the crevices of the house for his much loved solitude.

I decided to go to the music room and practice my guitar when I heard the lion's head knocker banging against the front door. It had to be a messenger; DuPuis Manor didn't receive many unexpected visitors.

With Marie in the back of the house, I knew she wouldn't hear the door, so I placed my guitar back in its case and proceeded to the front hall. Again the knocker banged loudly against its brass plate. Geez Louise, patience. I opened the door to find a nattily dressed man.

"Good day Madame, I've a special delivery for Monsieur DuPuis, is he about?"

"No, but I am the lady of the house, I can take it for him," I replied.

The man pursed his lips and cleared his throat, "Are you now? Forgive me for my bluntness, Madame, but polite gentry do not often undertake menial tasks as answering their own front door. Have you already released the servant for the day?"

Funny little man, I thought. The French can be so stuffy at times.

"Monsieur DuPuis likes to run a bare bones operation, he has no need of extraneous help. Monsieur, now if you would please, the post?" I motioned to the letter I saw clutched in his gloved hands.

He frowned, "Madame, I've strict instructions that no one is to receive the letter but the master of the house. I fear I shall have to return at a later time."

Grrr, what a butt munch.

I bit my tongue and continued with the politeness befitting a lady, "Monsieur, if the maid or butler had greeted you, would you not have handed them the post? Surely the mistress of the house is even more dependable than a servant at making sure Monsieur DuPuis receives his letter, wouldn't you agree?"

"Madame," he huffed, you must be sure DuPuis receives this posthaste. The sender is most anxious he reply immediately." Begrudgingly, he handed the letter over to my care. "Please sign the registrar."

I opened the door farther for the man to enter. He handed me a pen and the tablet to validate. I tried my hand at my soon-to-be identity, writing in long sweeping strokes I signed, Mdm. G. Thomassen DuPuis, smiling as I handed back the tablet.

He scrutinized my signature, then being satisfied, bid me a brusque good day and trotted off to his horse.

Chuckling out loud, I closed the door and turned the letter over to check out the rose-colored wax seal. It bore no initials but a crest—one I'd seen before but could not place. That ruled out a business acquaintance—they certainly wouldn't use rose-colored sealing wax; too fey.

It must be from a woman…

- 0 -

Poor dead Raoul, poor confused Erik, poor sad Gabrielle. Just hang in there with me; I promise t here is method to the madness.