Ch 21: Hearts May Get Broken

The blue hour had crept across the Paris skyline, causing the starry night to give way to dawn. The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I climbed the remainder of the small hill to the tomb. I halted at its opening, wary of the Vicomte who I spilled my secrets to. Adjusting to the dimmer light within, I found his form beneath the blankets rising and falling with each breath. I made my way to him. Under my gaze he continued to sleep.

I was obsessed, what had started as a meander along the Seine had again led me to her.. Lights illuminated a few of the rooms of the apartment. Why she lived alone without a housekeeper or maid when I had provided sufficient funds baffled me. It was not safe for her to be alone. I waited in the dark, vigilant.

I should not have and yet I did. I easily scaled the tree adjacent to the hall window that had remained open. We would have to discuss security at some point or maybe this tree would find itself pruned before I departed Paris. I dropped silently onto the hall carpet in a crouch. I stilled, the doors remained closed, the sounds unchanging. Her bedroom was in the corner at the end of the hall near the top of the stairs.

I was compelled, yet I did not have a plan. I laid my palm upon her door, stretching my fingers out, fingering the grain. What did I want? What was best for her? Oh it hurt so much, this twisting inside. And I was drawn back to a memory.

Turning from putting the kettle, I had caught her settling the cups upon the tea tray like the wife I had dreamed of. Yet I didn't want any wife, I wanted Christine. Only she would be so good to make tea, to converse, to care. Her face had taken on a red tinge when she had confessed she was glad I was real, no angel. Hope sprung within my heart at her blush but then talk had turned to the boy and I had my own version of red as she asked me to explain why love hurt. Then I was shattered like the plate, a pathetic fool crying into her skirts, begging forgiveness, making promises, sure I had destroyed my chance. She did not run. No, she stayed, wrapping her arms about me, and I loved her more. I was no angel, the beast was real.

And now? What of us? It would be so easy to let her name fall from my lips. She could open the door and I would be within her arms. She was a good girl and for some reason she wanted me now. I leaned my head against her door, my mask cutting into my face. When would Christine awaken from her music driven dream and realize she had married the monster instead of her knight? There is no us. She cannot truly desire me. Her love for me would be fleeting like her engagement to the boy. I needed to let her go, spare us both this pain. Oh the agony. I needed to make the suffering stop. I don't think I could lose her again. Her destiny was music, her voice upon the stage. I pulled my head back from her door and let my hand fall to my side. The letter I had written would suffice.

Then I walked the cobbled streets caring not the path I traversed through the night as long as I was moving. The air began to shift, coming alive as birds began their chatter and song, too cheery and eager to meet the day for my palate. The stars were absorbed into the dawn as I made my way into the cemetery. The boy still slept and I sank to the stone floor of the tomb, weary. Pulling my cape around my shoulders, I slept just out of reach of the Vicomte should he wish to do me harm.

Multiple voices reached my ear. I awoke, instantly alert, people were dangerous. Patches of sunlight filtered through the cracks creating a hazy effect. The tomb was empty save for the boy and I. Maybe six comprised the party; three young females, one older woman and two elderly males were nearby. They were here to pay their respects to a mother, a sister, from the bits of conversation that drifted my way. What to do? The boy would cry out and be done with it all. I should have been rid of him, dropped him off, never mind his head wound. I watched his lips waiting for his cry. His eyes held mine, questioning, pondering, while the rest of him remained still. The door to the tomb unbreached. The voices receded and still we stared at each other. His lack of action was confusing.

"Why?" I whispered in what felt like hours later.

"Because, she would not want it." he whispered back.

I gave a nod, tipping my head, acknowledging his kindness. I had noted gentlemen observe such conventionalities. He nodded back and I felt a foreign feeling that I liked stir within me. I lowered myself again to the remaining blanket, pulling my cape up again. The light shone brighter through the cracks. I was in such turmoil. Dare I hope I might have a life in the light? My body needed to sleep but my mind was too chaotic to allow it. Hours passed without sounds from the outside world intruding. He most likely needed to relieve himself. The boy wobbled as I assisted him to stand. I steadied him, perching him to lean against the far corner wall. Affording him some privacy I placed my back to him while I retrieved a jar for his supper.

Seated upon his bed once more he was able to feed himself this time. His pallor no longer resembled my corpse complexion, instead there was warmth in his features. He paused and drank some water.

"Are you going to eat?" he asked.

"I require little subsistence," I replied.

Time stretched onward, the only sound, the clink of his spoon on the glass.

He finally spoke, "You really do love her."

"I do," I said as my fingers played against my leg.

"So much that you would save me."

"It would seem." I sat, becoming lost in my thoughts. I did not know what else to say to the Vicomte.

The Vicomte spoke, "I was out on the ocean bluff when I first heard her laughter as a wave crashed against her ankles. I needed to know this ocean nymph. I had almost climbed down to her when the wind picked up. She gave a cry of surprise when her scarf tugged away from her neck, heading out to sea. I ran into the water, diving in when my feet no longer touched the ground. Triumphant I returned with my prize and procured her smile and laughter. Christine was so full of light, so joyful and happy. Her father was a good man, a violinist, with a flare for weaving tales. With each successive summer I collected happy moments with Christine and her father. I can still recall when he changed our handshake into a hug."

"Those summers by the sea were for sharing our hopes and dreams. She confessed her desire to marry her best friend, just as her parents had. As a second son I would be taking a commission at sea. Sitting in the sand, I swore I would return for her, and our friendship, as such she promised to be mine should I come to reside on land. One summer she and her father did not return to the cottage by sea. I lost my little Lotte that summer. I thought I had found her again last year. I would have my best friend and we would marry now that we were of age." He shifted clinking the spoon in the jar.

"I will not hinder you should you court her again. You must let her have her music"

The boy reached to set the jar down on the ground between us. His eyes remained cast down. "Always it is this talk of music with you and her."

"After you nearly drowned us we returned to my home and she shut herself away, refusing my entreaties. Somehow I had offended her. I did not understand, I only wanted to help her. A letter arrived for her in your scrawl and I was incensed. How dare you send a letter to my fiancé? I debated with myself and then finally went up to have it out with her. She could not have two men in her life."

"The door opened at my knock and she bid me enter. Then I found myself in her embrace. Her brown curls pressed to my face. Then she pulled back. 'Raoul, I love music. I need to sing and I do not think you understand this need I have.'

"You can sing about the house and at dinner parties my dear,' I had said, patting her head as it rested against my chest."

'Raoul, it is not enough. I have been losing a bit of myself each day that I do not have music. Music is like the air I breathe and I cannot do without it.' She had tugged free of my embrace, putting distance between us as her hands slid down my arms to grasp my hands. 'Do you see me Raoul? Or do you see the girl you shared secrets with on the sand?' Her face grew somber, 'that girl is my past, a version of me before, well before many things. You and I cannot go back, we are not those children by the sea.'

'You are a dear friend to have given so much of yourself this last year. I am sorry for all the pain that I caused you. You are all kindness, light, and were my knight in shiny armor. I am not a damsel that needs rescuing any longer. I know my mind. I must be married to my music instead. Erik has left me funds'.

"So you would take his money and not mine? I had cried."

'I think Raoul it is your pride speaking and not the love you profess to have for me. You will find a girl better suited to you then I, one that does not need music as I do.'

"I had looked to her left hand. Your onyx ring still rested upon her hand, not mine. She was indeed married to her music. I had yet to have replaced the one lost at the masquerade. I do not understand how I lost her. I had done everything right. My family hoped my allegiance to Christine would pass like an illness. They could not see how wonderful she was. She would make my happiness complete. They said she was lucky but I knew I was the blessed one to have my Little Lotte."

"She left and I felt her absence keenly." He looked away, "I never thought she would not pick me. Christine said she was fine but I worried about her. She had told me you were gone but you had pulled that trick before, Monsieur."

"I heard she had found rooms and auditioned for the new production. I couldn't believe she could return to that very stage you had taken her from." He shuddered, "That night haunts me. I went to the theater to assure myself of her well being. I heard talk of your return from Meg. I believed that you had poisoned her mind, filling it with music, taking her away to this fantasy realm where music reigns. I came prepared with pistols, to have it out with you once and for all the next night, to free Christine of the thing that had changed her."

He had snatched up a pebble and rolled it between his thumb and forefingers. "How wrong I have been. She mourned you when she believed you dead. I thought our wedding would pull her into the light, away from the darkness that was you. No, I only saw the light return to her face when she sang and when she realized you lived. I didn't want to believe that my Lotte loved you. And then when she professed her love for you saying that she didn't want to marry me. Do you remember her words? She said she would never forgive me if you died. She said you make her feel alive. She loves you. She is your Christine, not mine. Now you would leave her, even let her marry another if she has her music. Why? How can you discard Christine when she wants you?"

"As you have said I have manipulated her. I would not stifle her, force her to suffer more, trap her in a marriage to a corpse." I said, gesturing to my form. She professes her love but I doubt the validity of it because I have desired it so fervently I must have conjured it or forced it like you believe. I am not a good man," I said, turning away, restless.

"Perhaps, but you are who Christine wants and I am not. You must return to her. You must let her have her choice."

xxx

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Thank you Ritzybeth for being a lovely second pair of eyes.

One more chapter to go and then the ending to a tale I started in January 2021.