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Ghost45

Madeline was issuing orders from the moment I walked into the hall. She shooed Meg down the stairs and told her to take Alex outside. Her words alarmed me, and I turned and walked back into my room, still bleeding profusely, still wandering aimlessly with a shard of glass protruding from my hand.

"Grand-mere?" Alex questioned. "What was that sound?"

"Alex, wait on the front steps for Mademoiselle Leach."

"But, Grand-mere….May I see Father?"

"Alex, outside!" Madeline barked.

I sat down at the desk and took up a pen with my left hand. For a long moment I blankly stared at the ruined sheets of music, pen poised at the top of the page. My only thought was that I needed to rewrite each piece of music, but I couldn't write left-handed. My greatest concern was neglecting my music, the music that had never been my friend but had alleviated my loneliness and boredom enough for me to survive all those years.

Cold passed through me and I shuddered, blinking rapidly once I was certain I was about to pass out. I started to pick at the glass embedded in my hand, suddenly feeling the pain resonating around the object.

"Don't touch it," Madeline instructed from behind. Her hand squeezed my shoulder and she shook me. "What in the hell were you thinking? You've completely destroyed this room, you've terrorized the whole house and now you're bleeding to death. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Her words broke me again, and I laid my hand on the desk and glanced at her from over my shoulder.

"I don't want to look like this anymore," I said.

Her grip softened into a gentle caress and she gave a sympathetic nod. "You need your hand sutured."

She looked away from me for a moment and told Ruby to fetch the tin from the linen closet. Ruby, who appeared unaffected, nodded and walked from the room.

"Am I going to die?" I asked.

Madeline pulled up a chair beside me and shook her head. She seemed strangely at ease given that I was still bleeding, but her eyes showed grave concern. The blood flow had slowed considerably, though there was still an unhealthy pool collecting on the tabletop.

"I don't think so," she said as she opened a handkerchief and gently mopped up blood. "Though I think you've given yourself a good scare."

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure what I thought anymore.

"Erik?" Madeline looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Was that your intention? To kill yourself?"

"No," I answered blankly, looking away. Her insinuation stung. "No, it wasn't."

Madeline pressed the handkerchief onto the swollen sides of my hands and the glass moved upward, sending a bright red flow over the dull red that covered the desktop and my ruined musical scores.

"Does Alex know what happened?" I asked quietly.

"No, he was out of the house early running errands for Meg and Ruby. He only just returned a moment ago."

I nodded and closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning. Blood had never bothered me before now. It was a strange sensation to suddenly fear death and whatever may lay beyond for me. For the majority of my years I had been unconcerned about the possibilities, as it seemed Hell would make little difference to me. I couldn't imagine a worse fate than the one I had experienced.

"Where did you go last night?" Madeline asked flatly.

"Julia's home."

"And you stayed the night?" she asked.

At that point I would have preferred death to answering her questions. The last thing I wanted to tell Madeline was that I had fallen asleep beside Julia, despite her knowing what we did at night.

I nodded and hoped she would change the subject once she saw my reluctance to answer.

"Did you know Madame Seuratti is in the dining room?" Madeline asked. She looked away but her hand remained over mine.

"She doesn't want to see me," I droned miserably.

Madeline grunted. "If she didn't want to see you she would not have come here."

I sucked in a breath in an attempt to keep my nose from running. "She needs more time," I whispered. "Time, more time, she needs time yet again."

"Time for what?" Madeline asked.

"Time to forget me," I mumbled, which upset me more than I would have imagined after all I had experienced. I pursed my lips and closed my eyes briefly, focusing my attention on breathing, attempting to block out the pain from my throbbing hand and in my chest.

"You both need to stop this foolishness," Madeline snapped. "I'm tired of you slinking out in the night and returning at indecent hours."

Her tone surprised me. I had never heard Madeline speak ill of anyone, and she never dared to tell me what I should or shouldn't do.

Ruby returned before Madeline could continue her lecture. When she saw the new cook standing in the doorway she motioned her forward.

"Are you prone to fainting or weak of heart around bloodshed?" Madeline asked.

"Not in the least," Ruby replied.

"Good. Remove the glass and suture this for Monsieur Kire. I must tend to our guest."

Ruby stepped forward, shaking her head. "Madame Lowry is with—"

"I'll return in a moment," Madeline said sternly as Ruby took her place in the chair before me and began laying out needles, thread, strips of bandage and boric acid.

I had never spoken to Mademoiselle Dubois alone, aside from the day I had hired her. Even then Alex had been present to occupy her attention. She appeared unaffected by the wound as she blew a strand of hair from her eyes and leaned forward. Her actions made me curious but not enough so that I felt inclined to question her.

"Would you like me to remove the glass or would you rather do it?" she asked.

"I don't care," I answered, though inside my stomach felt as though it had turned inside out.

"Perhaps you should lie down. You are quite pale, Monsieur Kire."

I felt like my body was struggling between fever and chills. With a curt nod I rose, covered my hand with the soaked handkerchief, and walked to my bed. My mind was not quite focused on the urgency at hand, as I removed my shoes before I lay down on my back and showed Ruby the wound.

"You're fortunate," she said upon examination.

"I suppose that depends on your views of fortune," I muttered, looking away from the pink inside of my hand as she cleaned the wound.

Compared to the rest of my dejected existence this mortifying incident seemed fitting.

"It looks much worse than it is, Monsieur Kire. If you had cut your wrist further up you would have risked a chance of bleeding to death. You're lucky the glass sliced at an angel rather than straight up. That would have been fatal, I think."

"Oh," I said merely for the sake of saying something.

"If a shard of glass had penetrated deeper here," she said, pressing her finger inches below the inside of my elbow where my shirt sleeve was torn. "You would have hit a nerve."

I grunted to acknowledge her words and closed my eyes, hoping she would tend the wound without further conversation. If I had not been in such tremendous agony both mentally and physically I would have asked how she knew so much, but instead I just lay and waited for the worst to be over.

"Forgive me, Monsieur, this may—"

Without intending to I swore loudly as she pulled the glass from my hand.

"Bloody hell! Say something before you do that!" I shouted.

"Hurt," she finished, holding a rag over the newly opened wound. "Hold still."

"Hold still," I seethed in my state of total agony. "You hold still."

I grit my teeth, breathing harder, body stiffening as fiery pain tore through my hand and up my arm. She held the rag down firmly over the wound to keep the blood from pouring out and waited for me to stop trembling before she did anything else.

"The rest of the cuts don't look bad enough to require stitches," Ruby said. "Though you should keep your whole hand covered to prevent infection."

For a young girl she impressed me with her knowledge and ability to remain calm. I was glad she was sewing me back together, as I couldn't imagine Madeline remaining in the room.

"Monsieur, hold very still again," Ruby instructed.

I barely noticed the needle and thread passing through my flesh. My mind was elsewhere, locked on the conversation I could hear through the open door.

"You should return home," Madeline said.

I knew by her tone of voice that she was restraining herself. In my mind I could see her standing with her fists clenched and arms set at her side, face contorted in a scowl.

"Madame, I want to see him," Julia replied.

"I believe you have seen enough of him for one day," Madeline snapped.

There was silence for a moment. I swallowed hard and attempted to ignore their conversation.

"Pardon me?"

"What are you trying to do to this man?" Madeline demanded.

"I don't know what you mean, Madame Giry, I just—"

"You send him back and forth, promising him a courtship and back-peddling on your word. You lure him over to your house, send him back and tell him to stay away for weeks on end."

"Lure?"

"Then you allow him back for a moment when it is convenient to you. You treat him like an animal."

"Madame—"

"How dare you torment him, Madame Seuratti," Madeline seethed. "He has been through enough! You have no right to send him back in this manner."

"Madame, with all due respect, I know what he has been through. I did not ask him to leave my home. He did so of his own accord."

"If I were not a good Catholic woman I would have more to say to you on that matter, Madame," Madeline cut into Julia.

I heard Julia sigh in frustration. "Madame, I don't want to argue with you. I believe you are mistaken."

Madeline snorted. "You should leave at once."

"I would like to see Erik. Please, Madame, I need to speak with him."

"No."

"Would you please ask him if I may see him?"

"He does not want to see you."

"I believe he can make his own decisions on the matter, Madame. He is a grown man."

"You have done more than enough," Madeline said, her control steadfastly waning. "You and your demands for more time. What do you want from him? He cares for you. That's obvious to everyone in this house that he cares for you and would do anything you ask out of the goodness in his heart. And what do you do to him? Why, each time he returns from your home he's upset."

"That's not true. Madame, please."

"You give him false hope. You lead him to believe that you will marry him and then….I don't even know what you're doing."

Julia was silent for a moment.

Ruby snipped the last of the thread. "I need to rethread the needle," she said quietly, apparently listening in on the talk of the neighborhood. My head swam, temples pounding so fiercely that I couldn't think.

"Fine," I answered.

"Your son is an absolute pleasure," Ruby commented. "I enjoy having him in the kitchen when I'm cooking."

I grimaced at the feel of the needle piercing the palm of my hand, which made me curse, softly this time. She had started the sutures at the wrist where the worst damage had been done.

"You know he is spending the day with Mademoiselle Leach today," Ruby continued. "They are pretending to court. I think he's doing it to make Lisette jealous."

"Perhaps," I groaned.

Eyes closed, I continued to listen to Madeline and Julia, attempting to block out the pain.

"Madame Giry, exactly what do you think I have done to that man?"

"You are destroying him, do you not realize that? You are destroying him," Madeline retorted, trying in vain to keep her voice down.

"By asking for a proper courtship?"

"You ask him to spend the night in your home. That, Madame, is not a proper courtship."

Julia said nothing again, though there was not much she could say to Madeline.

"Are you so ignorant that you don't see what you're doing to him? With your foolish games and your constant prodding at his tolerance, you are destroying him. He has suffered enough in his life, and I will not stand back and watch you continue to torture him."

"Torture him?" Julia gasped.

"I thought you would be good for him, Madame Seuratti. When he returned from your home in April he was happy. Happy! For the first time since Alex came to him he was genuinely contented in this house. For the past three months he has been honestly trying to be a father to Alex and a member of this household. And I thought it was because you loved him, that you made him happy because you loved him."

"I do love him."

"If you loved him you would not put him through this hell."

"I'm putting him through hell?"

Madeline didn't answer, so Julia continued.

"Madame Giry, if I didn't love him I would have married him without question," Julia retorted. "I would have continued to keep him as a stranger. Don't you dare tell me I don't love him or I've put him through hell or whatever nonsense you believe."

"You don't know how he has suffered," Madeline said quietly. "You don't know how cruel people have been to him all of his life."

"I know enough," Julia replied.

"You must leave," Madeline said firmly. "If he wishes to see you he will come to you."

"No, he won't, and you know it's true. If I leave as you ask me to I will never see him again." Her voice broke at the end and my good hand gripped the bed sheets. "I will never see him again. And possibly neither will you."