Chapter V: Journey to the Past

Satine's nose was very inelegantly pressed up against the window, giving it a slightly squashed look as she turned away.

Christian chuckled, reaching out a hand for her. She raised an eyebrow and sank down next to him, drumming her fingers against the windowsill.

How much further? she asked curiously, twisting her wedding band.

Not much. Satine?




Where did you learn to speak English so well? he inquired, genuinely puzzled. Most of the time they spoke French, of course, but there were times when Satine would demand he spoke her in English so she could practice her skills. Satine shrugged.

I just picked it up, I suppose. Harold insisted that all the Diamond Dogs be able to speak it. . .for all of the English and American visitors, you know. She stayed silent for a moment, her eyes focused on something far behind her in the past. I learned a lot of things when I met him.

When did you meet him? Christian's interest perked up as soon as she mentioned her past. He knew very little about Satine's life before he met her.

I was a girl of, I don't know, perhaps thirteen or so. Old enough that you could see I was going to be beautiful. She played absently with the hem of her jacket. I had been living on the street ever since my mother died. . . God knows who my father was.

How old were you when your mother died? Christian asked softly, resting his hand on hers.

Nine. . .ten. . . .around then. She had always been sick. I don't remember her very well, to be honest. . .she was. . .not . . .awake a great deal of the time. They tried to put me in a place for foundlings once, and I ran back home. It wasn't much, but it was home. She shook her head. I don't like to remember that. She pressed a hand to her mouth, sighing. I want to think I've forgotten most of it.

Have you? Satine smiled wryly, drawn back to the present by the concern in his voice.

Her voice changed, becoming more brisk and cheerful. When I met Harold, I was a grubby little thief. . .he found me, uh, loitering in front of a theatre, watching the people pour out. I remember I loved seeing all the furs and diamonds the ladies wore. She pressed her lips together. He brought me to the Moulin Rouge at the same time he found Nini.

Christian found it impossible to disguise the surprise in his voice.

Yes. . .Nini. As Satine related the rest of the story, Christian began to picture it as it must have happened so many years ago. . .

Now, you must be very good, little ones, Harold said cheerfully. If you work very hard, perhaps one day you'll be the star of the show. . .but only if you are the very best. There can only be one star, you know. The two little girls nodded energetically, and Harold studied them both. One was a small, dark-haired girl with a clever look in her eyes--more of the standard issue for the girls he had here. But the other. . .Satine, she had said her name was. She was a small, porcelain doll with red curls and blue eyes that were striking even at thirteen. Yes, she was the more promising of the two. . .Harold shook away his thoughts and strode off. As soon as he was out of sight, Nini shoved Satine in a pile of costumes.

There's only one star of the Moulin Rouge, and it's going to be me, you understand? Me! Satine watched in stunned disbelief as Nini did a dainty little pirouette and walked off, her nose in the air. She pulled herself out of the costumes and found herself holding a sparkling black gown. Satine was small for her age, but her slightly awkward proportions promised her a tall, slender womanhood. She put the gown down and found a lacy undergarment. Satine's eyes opened wide, and she held it up to herself. She placed a large feather in her hair and smiled at her reflection. She was so absorbed in her performance that she didn't notice the woman standing there until she spoke.

You're a pretty little girl. . .what's your name, dearest? Satine turned in shock to find a beautiful blonde woman wearing a deep red corset and a sheath of gold.

she said unsteadily. The woman raised her eyebrows.

Satine, eh? Well, I'm Marie. The woman took the undergarment from Satine. You're too young to be wearing things like this, she muttered. Don't want to give those gents any ideas.

Satine asked, puzzled. Marie shook her head.

Never you mind, darling. . . never you mind. Now, why don't you come up with me to my dressing room, and I'll see if there's something you can do.

Marie took me under her wing, Satine said softly to Christian, lying against his chest as he stroked her hair. She became the closest thing to a mother I had. She protected me when I needed it, and taught me the things I would have to know to become the star. Nini made the rather catastrophic mistake of making fun of her behind her back, and that gave me the advantage. I had Marie's support. . .and by the time I was eighteen, her career was ending. . .but mine was just beginning. She stayed on, first as a lesser dancer, than, as I became more popular, as my maid. I became the Sparkling Diamond four years before you met me. She sighed, and rested her chin on her hand. I miss her. And Harold, too. They were both very kind to me, in their own ways. She closed her eyes briefly. Oh, but Christian, if I hadn't met you. . .

Christian put his arms around her and rocked her gently.

I was blessed. . .and cursed. . .in one thing, though, she said abruptly. I was never with child. Not once.

Did you want one? Christian asked her quietly.

No. . .and yes. She let out a breath, and she bit her lip, as if about to cry.

Let's not talk about it anymore, Christian said, squeezing her hand. It's all in the past now, Satine. It's not there to haunt you anymore.

Satine said. she repeated, bringing her thoughts back to the present with an effort. What are we facing here, Christian? He shrugged, puzzled.

I don't really know, he admitted. I was disinherited for coming to Montmartre, and I was very surprised that Father even sent me so much as a penny, much less the sum he did.

Perhaps he was relieved that you were somewhat respectable after all, Satine suggested doubtfully.

Christian said slowly. Satine pulled herself out of his embrace to look him straight in the eye.

What's your family like, Christian? Christian raised his eyebrows.

Father's very traditional. . .my mother is. . .very quiet. She loves her children, but she would never say a word against Father. She's devoted to him. . .she's nearly twenty years his junior, you see. My brother Will is a harmless young man. . . he lives his life out of the way of Father and in his studies. Peter is. . .well, Peter and I have never really gotten along. He always seemed to be very unscrupulous to me. . .always pushing me and Will out of the way to get Father's attention. My sister Margaret is like Mother. . . very quiet, demure, gentle.

No one's anything like you then, Satine said lightly, brushing imaginary dust off his coat sleeve.

Afraid not, Christian said absently, tucking his arm about her. Satine covered her mouth as she yawned.

How much further, Christian? I don't think I'm ever going to get used to riding on a train.

About an hour, Christian replied. Do you want to go to sleep? Satine nodded, and lay down, her head in his lap. He touched her mass of red curls and smiled. She was so very beautiful and infinitely precious to him. . .

Christian said, gently shaking her awake. Satine, we're here. Satine sat straight up, barely missing Christian's chin with her head.

What? Why didn't you wake me up earlier? She hurriedly found a pocket mirror and checked her hair.

You look fine, Christian said without sparing her a glance. Don't worry about it. It's me they're going to be watching, not you. Satine frowned.

Somehow, Christian, that was not the impression I got. She stood and touched his cheek after pulling on his gloves.



he replied, a soft look in his eyes. He moved towards her and Satine raised a finger.

Absolutely not.

he asked, managing to look saddened by her words. Satine tried to hide her smile, but it blossomed across her face despite her best efforts.

Not until tonight.

Christian tried to frown, but he was as unsuccessful as his wife. She laughed at him as she gathered her things.

I'm going to the powder room for just a minute, all right, dear?

All right, he replied, holding the door open for her. Before she left, she paused and kissed him briefly.

It'll be all right, love.

Christian stared out at the busy London station, his thoughts drifting away from Satine to the ordeal that awaited them both. She was right--he was not the only one his family would be studying. But he loved her, and they had survived things worse than his family. Everything would be all right. He leaned his arm against the baggage railing and sighed.

Heart, don't fail me now!
Courage, don't desert me!
Don't turn back now that we're here
People always say,
Life is full of choices
No one ever mentions fear. . .
Or how the world can seem so vast
On a journey to the past. . .

Inhaling deeply, Christian found their bags and walked out to meet Satine. As he offered his arm to her, he felt the uneasy feeling of being watched. He glanced up to meet the disapproving glance of his entire family.