Disclaimer: eekas! In the other chapter, the song 'Wouldn't it be loverly' belongs to the people who wrote 'My Fair Lady'. In this one, the song 'You must love me' is by the people who wrote 'Evita', with apologies to Brown-eyes. It is truly too perfect a song to pass up, and I honestly did not copy it. You should all go and check out her story, 'Deep in my heart I'm concealing'. It is REALLY GOOD.
Boy, I keep getting in to trouble with this story. Oh well, proceed.
I gave Satine a name! Yay!
Since works has decided to convert to doc. it doesn't seem to like é, e's with accents. If you see something like clich, it's supposed to be cliche with an accent on the 'e'
And (yeah, I have a lot to say) I seem to have typos I only see after I've posted. I know, they're annoying, but I'm typing this as a go along, and I have no BETA READER! Apologies.
Satine looked out her window. Christian was down in the driveway, talking to the driver.
The driver that would take them to the mountains.
Mrs. Deveraux- Evelyn, as she had insisted she call her- had to have een the sweetest woman Satine had ever met. She was charming and very attentive. If Christian had told her anything about her past, she had made light of it.
Annette was a doll, and she idolized Satine in a quiet manner.
"I think she's a Goddess from the stories." she had whispered to Christian. "No woman could be that beautiful and have all those beautiful clothes.
Evelyn had sent their butler, Chauncy, to fetch Christian's and Satine's bags, which Annette had rifled through with the utmost reverence. "And look how fashionable they are!" Annette had cried, examining the dresses. "They're beautiful!"
Annette would sit for hours chatting away with Satine, who was no longer allowed to talk.
The doctor had told her she strained her voice far too much, in addition to the weak state of her lungs, and in order to prevent serious damage she was not allowed to speak. Satine, indignant, had refused.
"I won't let you do it! I won't let you take away my voice!" she had screamed, on the verge of hysterics. Emotional, she had turned to Christian fearfully. "Don't let them! Christian, don't let them!"
What could Christian do? Though it broke his heart to refuse Satine, he wouldn't allow her to endanger her health. He made the horrified, shocked Satine promise that she wouldn't talk until the Doctor said so.
Annette was good company for Satine. She wasn't like other girls, she was interesting and intelligent. She would read aloud from novels, from books of poetry, from history books. It didn't matter to either of them, but Annette was such a dramatic reader Satine had written (in French) that she should be an actress.
That was another problem with the communication barrier. Satine had sheepishly admitted to Christian that she couldn't write in English. Harold ne voir pas l'importance du ecriture Anglais, she had protested. Juste la language.
Neither Annette nor Evelyn spoke French, so Christian was used as the translator.
Satine's favorite part of being with Annette was the stories she would tell about Christian.
"We were all going to the country for a little vacation. So we arrived there and- God, we were little, I was about eight, so Tommy was five, Greg was ten and Christie was twelve- and the first thing he does is run into the forest and walk right into a hornet's nest. Well, they weren't all too happy about that and stung him all over!"
But none of these fond memories came to mind as she watched the servants load the two carriages that would take them up to the mountains.
Well, they would take Annette and Evelyn and Christian up to their house in the mountains. They would take Satine to the sanitarium.
The doctor hadn't wanted to move Satine right away, fearful of what she might come encounter, so they had waited a week after Satine had awakened.
Satine was in luck, Annette had whispered. Their father was out of town on a business trip, and with him he had taken Thomas and Gregory. Which was the only bone providence had thrown them.
Christian's father: stern, godfearing Jeremy Deveraux. He who would rip her to shreds, Satine was certain. She had never seen him except for the portrait she had seen downstairs in one of the few instances Evelyn had found it suitable to move her.
Jeremy even looked frightening the portrait, which all in all was a cheerful painting. Evelyn, Annette, and the three boys were smiling, but Jeremy had a look of consternation on his face that frightened Satine more than she would have ever admitted to.
Based on the stories Christian had told her and the reports Annette had given her about the fight between them before he moved to Montmartre, Jeremy had taken the form of the monsters that had plagued Satine was she was a little girl in Marisse, sharing a bed with her sisters.
The carriages were nice. Evelyn and Annette would travel in one, and Christian and herself in the others. Though Evelyn had insisted it was so that they didn't tire the horses with one full carriage of people and one full of luggage, Satine knew it was so that they could talk.
While Satine was fluent in English, it was obvious she was more comfortable in French. And it seemed a reflex for Christian to prattle away in French when speaking to Satine, then seamlessly turning to Annette or his Mother and finishing the conversation on English.
"Christian's always had a gift with languages," Evelyn had announced proudly.
There was a knock on the door, and a pause. The pause was unnecessary, it wasn't like Satine was allowed to respond.
"Satine?" came a voice. It was Annette. She opened the door. "Good morning."
Satine nodded at her, smiling. She motioned to the window and raised a hand as if to ask 'what's going on?'
Annette sat next to her on the window seat. "Christian's telling the driver the things he needs to know, I guess. Here." She handed Satine her coat. Satine fingered the collar.
Annette studied Satine for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. "Are you scared?"
Satine looked away before slowly nodding her head.
Annette took her hand. "It'll be alright. We'll be there everyday. The people there will be nice, I promise."
Satine turned her head listlessly back towards the window. Christian was finishing what he was saying and walking back into the house.
Annette stood up. 'Come on, darling. Let's put on your coat." she pulled Satine to her feet and helped Satine into her coat. Satine just stood there.
Annette stood back and smiled at her. "You look lovely."
Satine nodded her thanks, and sat back down at the window, just looking out at the slate-gray sky. She couldn't remember the sun shining since they had arrived in England.
Annette sighed. She knew Satine was unhappy. That much was obvious. She did not, however, know the drastic difference in Satine's personality.
Christian knew. Christian saw the light fading from her eyes. And it broke his heart.
Satine blamed herself for her weakness, which she despised. She abhorred the doctor, who she blamed for the loss of her voice.
Without speech, Satine withdrew. She was miserable. She hardly ever smiled any more, and if she did, it was only a shadow of the dazzling grin she had possessed before.
Christian wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do. And the longer he waited, the farther removed Satine became.
Once she gets better, Christian promised himself, She'll go back to normal. She'll smile again.
She has to.
Annette sighed unhappily, and turned to leave the room. Christian was bounding up the stairs, ready to take Satine.
Christian looked at Annette when he stopped outside the door. His eyes searched hers.
Annette couldn't bring herself to smile or do anything comforting. She couldn't set him up.
Christian's face fell at Annette's downcast eyes. She wordlessly departed down the stairs.
Christian walked into the room slowly. Satine was sitting in the windowseat, leaning back against the wall. She gave him a faint smile.
Christian grinned back at her. "You ready?" he asked.
Satine nodded, not moving from her windowseat. She lifted her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed daintily.
Christian knelt next to her. "It'll be alright." he whispered.
She just looked down at him with hollow, vacant eyes.
Where do we go from here?
This isn't where we intended to be.
We had it all, you believed in me
I believed in you
Christian stood up and slid one arm under Satine's knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up effortlessly.
Satine looked at him, surprised registered in her eyes. What on earth was he doing? She could walk down the stairs for God's sake.
She didn't anything, not because she couldn't, but because she didn't have any words to say.
Certainty's disappeared
What would we do, for our dream to survive
How do we keep all our passions alive,
as we used to do?
Christian didn't look down at her. He could hardly stand to see her this way- empty and void of emotion and happiness. It broke his heart to watch her become this way. What had happened to his lighthearted darling?
Deep in my heart
I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away
Satine watched him carefully. She knew it hurt him to see her this way.
She bit her lip, and tentatively put her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder.
You must love me
Christian felt his heart jump. This was the first sign of emotion Satine had given since she had lost the use of her voice five days before. And here she was, cuddling into him.
You must love me
Satine didn't get it. She could be dying. She could be dead tomorrow. Why was he still with her?
Why are you at my side?
How can I be any use to you now?
Give me a chance, and I'll let you see how
Nothing has changed
She wouldn't say anything like that to him. More than dying or never getting back her voice (damn that doctor!), she feared losing him.
In a surge of insecurity, she squeezed him tighter, nuzzling closer.
Deep in my heart
I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away
There was only one explanation for why he was still here. Only one.
You must love me
You must love me
You must love me
~*~
If Annette and Evelyn were surprised to see Satine in Christian's arms, they didn't show it. They both looked at one another with raised eyebrows and turned back.
They both called goodbye, to which Christian responded and Satine waved, before all four climbed into their respective carriages.
"I hope she's returning to normal." Evelyn said worriedly.
Annette smiled knowingly. "I think she will. All she needs is a little love, Mamma."
Evelyn nodded and squeezed her daughter's hand affectionately. "I know, dear heart. And you and I will make sure to give it to her."
Satine stretched her long legs across the seat. She smiled faintly at him before settling down into the seats and rolling her head towards the window.
"Satine..." he started.
She looked back at him.
His face was one of agony. There she was, the woman he loved, right within arm's reach, yet she was so far away from him it was tearing him apart.
Satine, sensing his need, reached her hand towards him, which he took with startling rapidity. He clung to it as if it were a lifeline.
"Don't let go, Satine." he breathed.
She looked at him, puzzled, and moved their hands, showing that she hadn't. See, Christian, I haven't let go.
"You're pulling away from me." he accused. He got off his seat and was kneeling besides her on the floor of the carriage.
Satine shook her head fervently.
He nodded.
"Satine, I love you. I love you more than anything, more than I can tell you. But," he said, taking a deep breath. "I can't love someone who isn't there."
Bewildered, Satine pointed to herself and motioned that she was right next to him.
"Yes," Christian concurred. "You're right next to me. I can see you. But where are you here?" He put his free hand to his heart, and then to hers.
Satine understood what he was telling her, and tears welled up in her eyes.
She put her hand over his, and then moved her hand to his heart. She tapped her hand against his chest firmly to say 'there'.
Satine moved her hand to tilt his face up to look at her. 'I love you' she mouthed. 'Come what may'
Christian nodded. "Come what may."
Satine removed her hand from his and reached down for the paper and fountain pen Evelyn had so thoughtfully supplied.
Seulement Anglaise, she scrawled. Pas encore le Française.
"Only English?" he asked, surprised.
Satine nodded, and wrote out: I can't write in English, but I want to speak it. We'll work on writing later.
Christian smiled at her. "So ambitious." She nodded, and then yawned.
"There, darling, you go to sleep, and when you wake up you'll be nice and rested."
Satine nodded and curled up in a corner. She was asleep instantly.
Christian watched her for a moment. He was petrified of what would happen to her. He trusted the doctor to return her to health, but he was worried about what would happen to Satine's mental state.
He knew she was insecure. That they had just had that little exchange gave him hope, but she was still a far cry from the bubbly Satine she had once been. If that was the way she was without her voice and with her by her side continuously, how would she be without her voice and without him?
Christian said a quick little prayer. God had seen it fit to spare Satine's life and give her this extra chance. Maybe God could help her out again.
~*~
Satine had been the sanitarium a week, and she had never been more miserable in her life.
The nurses there were haughty and cold. They very obviously did not like Satine. They thought she complained too much. None of them spoke French. They were at a loss in the language department. If Satine wanted anything, she had to wait until Christian was allowed in. Christian would then report it to the nurses, who would take it with a docile smile and nod and then turn around and viciously snap to their friends about the harlot in room twenty.
Another horrid aspect: there were strict visiting hours. It didn't matter who you were or why you needed to see someone, you had to wait until ten o'clock in the morning to be admitted, be out at noon, wait until two to return, and be gone by six. No exceptions.
Christian, of course, was outside the door at 11:59 and didn't leave until the nurses forced him. For all their hatred for Satine, they seemed to adore Christian, both old and young alike.
Everyone who came into the room had to wear stupid little cloth masks over their noses and mouths. Satine hated it. Seeing people enter her room with those stupid little screens made her feel more like an invalid than ever.
The food was horrible, and Satine would refuse certain dishes, adding fuel to the fire of the nurses heated animosity towards her. Annette started to bring her little pies and cakes when she saw the slop Satine had forced down her throat.
And so it went for a time. While Christian guessed Satine hated it there, she never told him so explicitly. She didn't want to worry him.
Yes, Satine was certain that if it weren't for Annette's witty stories and Christian's loving whispers, and both their little gifts, she would go mad.
She had a quite an impressive collection of small trinkets now: a small stuffed bear Christian had bought her, a stained glass jewelry box Annette had found her, a nice pair of gloves from Evelyn, a book of French poetry (God only knew where he had found it) from Christian, some paper dolls from Annette (which had made Satine shake with silent mirth and Christian smack his sister. "Why on earth would you buy her paper dolls?" he cried. "Well," Annette had responded. "Paper Dolls are quite fun to dress up when you're not allowed to get dressed yourself!") and a beautiful needlepoint pillow from Evelyn.
And so she slept with the bear next to her, she kept the jewelry next to her for decoration, she wore the gloves whenever possible, she read the book of poetry over and over, she cut the paper dolls out and played with them, and admired the pillow often. In the hours she spent alone with the hateful nurses, these were the items that helped her remember just how loved she was.
~*~
Things began looking up the two weeks later. Christian had a firm talk with the doctor, who made an exception for them in allowing them to spend lunchtime with Satine, making their visiting hours stretch from ten to six straight. He also revoked the rule that all her visitors had to wear masks, saying that risk of contagion had lowered dramatically and that Satine was healing faster than any patient that he had ever seen. But, much to Satine's chagrin, he would not remove the rule about her voice.
However, the best thing to happen was the new nurse. Fluent in French and unaffected by the other nurses, Clara Anderson was a godsend.
Satine's response to the new nurse was so favorable that Christian reported it to the doctor. The physician, who had long been worried about her reactions to the nurses, instantly made Clara Satine's primary caretaker.
Clara was in her mid-twenties with honey-colored hair and bright blue eyes. She was from the Isle of Jersey ("Dreadful place," she told Satine. "It's always gloomy and foggy. Couldn't wait to leave.") originally, but had been studying in London for a few years. She had picked up French from her mother's family, who were French. Whereas Satine insisted that Clara speak to her in English, they could communicate with Satine's notes.
Satine's happiness had increased so much that it was visible. Having a way of communicating with someone besides Christian made her feel a lot better, and having Christian with her for eight hours rejuvenated her. Her cheeks started to regain their rosy pallor, and a bit of the sparkle returned to her eyes. She smiled more often.
The physician was so impressed by Satine's improvement that he announced that if she continued this way she would be allowed to go to home in the next month. Under strict bedrest, of course. And with the attendance of a nurse. But anything was better than that awful sanitarium.
When told that, Satine smiled. She was determined to be home and talking by Christian's birthday, February 12th. As it was, they were in the middle of January. Satine resolutely swore to herself and to Clara that she was going to be home and speaking by the 12th.
~*~
Two days after the doctor's notice of Satine's progress, Evelyn got a letter from her husband. He had returned home and learned of Christian's indiscretion. Mistakenly believing that Satine and Christian were married, as Evelyn thought, Jeremy had decided not to meet Satine until she was well. He gave Evelyn permission to stay on in the mountains with Christian and Annette until 'Christian's wife' had recovered, and then they were return straightaway to London.
Evelyn wordlessly handed her son the letter, which he took with shaking hands. He skimmed over it, sighing with relief. His father was being merciful, something he rarely was, in allowing them to stay until Satine was better. Jeremy could have ruined everything. Had he told Evelyn to return, she would have.
It wasn't until later that he realized that Jeremy hadn't mentioned Satine's name.
~*~
Satine was released from St. William's Sanatorium on Tuesday, January 30th under the care of Miss Clara Anderson, after resting there for less than a month. Satine had been the first patient to ever recover in that amount of time and was basically considered a medical miracle.
She had complete half of her task with 13 days to spare.
The Deveraux's mountain home was charming. Unlike the house in the city, this one was open and airy, sprawling over land instead of building up, like the townhouse. The view from any window was picturesque: the west their was the valley, which framed magnificent sunsets, to the north the mountains that cast a long shadow over the house during the day, the west a river and the little village, and to the south a beautiful lake and a forest.
The lake was a common meeting spot for both members of society and the villagers, so at any given moment during the day the lake was crowded with people wanting to glide across the ice.
Annette seemed to be very fond of skating, and often insisted that her brother accompany her. Satine derived no greater delight than from sitting at her window and watching them- or, more truthfully, watching Christian fall repeatedly.
Both Evelyn and Clara were still very worried about Satine, and would not let her go out yet.
"What if you were to catch a chill, dear?" Evelyn would ask anxiously. "Then what would happen?" Clara was all to quick to agree. They would abide by doctor's orders: Stay warm and silent.
As the week of the 12th grew closer, Satine grew more and more impatient to be out of the house and speaking. On the 8th he proclaimed that she could go out only if she was kept warm and sat down. No one found this a problem. Wrapped up in furs from her head to her toes, Satine was placed on a bench that, when pushed, moved across the ice on gliders, which seemed to be very fashionable for ladies. Annette would skate alongside the bench and Christian would push. And fall. He claimed that the bench gave him more balance, but Satine shuddered to think that if he was that bad with something to hold on to, how bad was he alone?
Another time, Satine sat nestled in furs while Annette and Christian built snow men. Annette's looked relatively good, but Christian's looked downright sickly.
"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life." announced Annette.
Christian opened his mouth to protest, looking back at his creation. "That was cruel, Annie. It's not that bad." He turned to Satine. "Is it, darling?"
Satine snickered and nodded. Christian gasped in mock shock and fell to the ground twitching in pretend agony until he 'died' and lay there, motionless.
Annette looked Satine with wide, innocent eyes. "I guess we should bury him, then." She commenced in kicking the snow towards Christian.
"All right, all right! I'm up, my snowman is hideous! Okay! I surrender!"
Annette smiled and daintily pranced away, going towards the waiting carriage.
She did not expect the snowball that landed on her back.
"CHRISTIAN!" she wailed, turning. He stood where he had been, whistling a little tune.
Gasping in indignation, she bent down and balled up a handful of snow.
Satine let out a little shriek as the snowballs began to fly. Ducking and weaving Annette's ammunition, he hid behind Satine. "I surrender!" he cried. He peered over Satine's shoulder, but he couldn't see Annette.
He felt a slush of ice down his shirt a minute later. "ANNETTE!" he roared, and started chasing his little sister, who giggled madly.
Satine turned in her seat to watch. This was what a family was, she realized. She had mixed emotions over that: jealousy that she had never had any of this with her family, and love, because she had been made a part of this one.
Evenings were peaceful. After dinner, they would all gather around the fire. Clara, who was regarded now as a treasured family guest, Evelyn and Annette would embroider and drink their tea. Satine had the chair closest to the fire, swathed in furs and blankets. Christian sat at the foot of her chair, his elbow resting on her knee, reading aloud from some great novel or another. Sometimes Satine stayed awake and listened to the pleasant hum of Christian's voice as he read, but more often she fell into a contented sleep and was carried up to bed.
Satine was happy, happier than she had been since she had fallen ill. Only one thing could make everything perfect.
Speech.
~*~
Christian wasn't sure what Satine was up to, but he was sure that it wasn't good.
She was being altogether way to secretive for Christian's peace of mind. She had been writing notes left and right to Clara, who would either pocket them or scurry off to translate them for Annette. When asked about them, Clara merely shrugged and said "Personal matters, sir," at which both herself and Annette would burst into laughter.
When he asked Satine, she shrugged vaguely and smiled impishly.
Even Evelyn was in on the secret! Evasion was everywhere.
Christian shook his head at his nervousness. Satine was stuck in the house, and couldn't speak. How could she be plotting?
Satine was up to something, but it wasn't what he thought.
~*~
The morning of February 12th dawned clear and chilly. Christian was awoken at the ungodly hour of eight by Annette, who barged right on in, Satine and Clara in tow.
"Good morning and happy birthday!" cried Annette, tossing her gift at the half-awake Christian. Satine sat down next to him, embracing him and giving him a quick kiss.
"Morning breath." he accused. She stuck her tongue out at him before mouthing 'Happy Birthday.'
Clara sat down a breakfast tray. All three girls were in their nightgowns and dressing gowns, and they crowded around Christian as he opened Annette's present. It was an IOU in a elaborate box. Christian groaned and threw the wrapping paper at her. "Cheap!"
Annette ducked. "You're the hardest person to buy gifts for. That's why Satine didn't get you anything."
Satine swatted at her before shaking her head vigorously.
Satine was going to hand him her gift when Evelyn swept into the room. She, of course, was fully dressed, and glared in shock at all four of the young people in the room, who hung their heads like guilty children.
"Annette Rochelle Deveraux, have you completely taken leave of your senses?" she hissed in a semi-dangerous voice. "Up at this hour and traipsing about in your nightgown. Go to your room and get dressed immediately." She said 'immediately' in a low, menacing voice. Annette kept her giggles in check.
"Yes, Mamma." she said, hastily making her escape.
"Miss Anderson, I am shocked at your lack of decorum. I expect much better from you. Get right to your room."
Clara too managed not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. "Yes, Mrs. Deveraux."
Evelyn turned to Christian. "And you, Mr. Birthday Boy? What's your excuse? Allowing the girls in your room with you in your nightclothes. Our morals have not fallen to the wayside, sir, not a chance. I am ashamed of you."
She turned to Satine, who was fairly cringing. She flashed her a lovely smile. "Dear, it's quite cold. Go put on something warm before you catch a chill."
Satine smiled brilliantly and nodded at Evelyn. Christian was watching Satine with a shocked expression. Behind Evelyn's back Satine flashed him a smug smile before disappearing into the hall.
Evelyn regarded Christian's slack jaw with contempt. "Catching flies, dear?"
"You like her better!" he accused. "And it's my birthday!"
She sniffed with disdain. "Of course I do. She's lovely and well-bred and happens to be my guest. Now, Christian, you are going to get up and be dressed in ten minutes or I'm going to dress you myself and wash your ears."
Christian moaned. "Alright... alright... I'm going..."
~*~
Christian was certain that either all three girls were up all night or had woken up at the first sign of daylight. The dining room was festooned with streamers. A big sign behind the head of the table spread across the room reading 'Happy Birthday, Christian!' Annette had destroyed 5 napkins by writing 'Christian's birthday, February 12th, 1900' in black ink.
Evelyn, however, was still adamant about breakfast.
"Children, don't think that just because you're grown up and have guests and we're not home means that we're changing our habits. Oh no. Breakfast first, then gifts."
"Mam-maaaaaa." whined Christian and Annette in unison. Satine burst out laughing at the similarities of their features at that very moment.
They all sat down to a nice breakfast of oatmeal, toast and marmalade, sausage, bacon and tea. Annette finished her entire breakfast in about two bites whereas Evelyn had just taken her first sip of tea, Satine had just started on her toast, and Clara was taking her second bite of oatmeal. Christian looked up from his sausage. "In a hurry, Annette?" he asked playfully. She made a face at him. "What? It's not like you have a present for me, anyway."
Evelyn clucked her tongue at her daughter. "That's ignominious, Annette."
Christian switched his gaze from Annette to Satine, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're looking well, Satine. How do you feel, darling?"
She smiled at him and nodded, expressing that she felt fine. While most people were confused when Satine made motions such as that, Christian knew exactly what she meant. All three other women present had each exclaimed their surprise at Christian's and Satine's ability to hold entire conversations like that.
Fifteen minutes later Annette looked as though she would burst, and Evelyn was rather sick of watching Annette bounce up and down next to her. She waved a hand at her son. "Alright, Christian. Here are your presents. Iris!" she called. Instantly a maid appeared, laden down by a considerable amount of presents.
Annette had gotten him a gift, it was a nicely bound book of poetry. "You know, I thought you'd like reading some more of those rhyming verses. This one," she said, jerking a thumb at Satine. "Seems to enjoy it far more than is healthy."
"Oh, hush your mouth and come over here so I can give you a hug." Christian had muttered, embracing his little sister.
From his mother, some shirts. A necktie. A dandy little top hat. "Thanks, Mum."
Evelyn shrugged modestly. "It isn't much, dear. You can expect some more when we get back home."
The last box was from Clara. It contained some nice handkerchiefs with Christian's initials on them.
"Clara, you shouldn't have." he said. He cautiously gave Clara a little hug.
He turned to Satine, who was concealing her smile. "Alright," he demanded. "Where is it?"
Satine raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, and turned to Evelyn.
"Christian, have you NO tact whatsoever?" she asked dejectedly. Annette and Clara hid their laughter behind their hands.
Satine raised her hands in defeat, sweeping them around as if to motion that there was nothing there. Christian let his jaw fall. "That's wretched, Satine. It's my birthday and you didn't even get me anything. That's positively unfit. I still love you, though."
She smiled at him as if he was doing her a big service, then sighed, held up her hands in mock defeat, and motioned to Iris.
Christian turned excitedly to the door. A few minutes later Iris reappeared, wheeling a cart with a giant white sheet over it.
Christian turned to Satine. "You didn't."
She made no expression, but motioned for him to pull the sheet off.
Carefully, Christian pulled it off.
There sat a beautiful, gleaming, new Underwood typewriter, just like his old one. Behind it was a stack of paper.
Christian sat there for a moment with a look of shock on his face. Typewriters were NOT cheap. Where had she gotten the money?
He turned to Satine, shaking his head. "No." he said. She nodded, and motioned for him to look at it again.
He turned back to the typewriter. It was beautiful.
There was already a sheet of paper in there, just waiting for him to start. He could just spread his fingers and-
Hold on.
Christian peered at the paper.
There was something already typed on it.
He ripped the sheet out, and brought it close to his face.
There were three words on it, but that was the greatest birthday gift Christian could have asked for.
It read: I can talk now.
"Happy birthday." Satine said quietly. She moved to sit down on his lap.
Evelyn instantly remembered something she needed to do. "Annette, you need to practice your piano. Clara, you will accompany us. Come, Iris."
Christian released his hold on Satine.
"Does this mean you're all better now?" he asked with child-like innocence.
Satine nodded. "Yes. I need to stay here for a week or so more- the doctor says the mountain air is good for me- but after that we can go to wherever we want."
"Thank God," Christian said before drawing Satine closer to him.
Evelyn and the girls went to town around noon, claiming desperate items needed were in the village, and that they'd be back for dinner.
Satine and Christian couldn't have cared less. They spent the entire day talking.
Well, almost the entire day.
~*~
The next to days passed anything but quietly. Satine felt that after a over six weeks of silence she should be entitled to chatter at any possible opportunity. For a few hours all members of the household found it endearing. After the third one, however, the only one able to tolerate Satine's endless prattle was Christian. If they weren't talking in some room, they were off on a walk through the valley, or off skating, or sledding, or at town. Always only the two of them, Christian listening attentively as the ridiculously bundled-up Satine vocated every thought on the slightest occurrence.
Neither of them could have been happier.
The doctor had come on Valentine's Day, prescribing a week more of the mountain air before they could return to the city. At that, the entire household rejoiced.
A week later everything was packed up, and the carriages were ready. Clara was going to stay with Satine for at least another week as to ensure her health. She was riding in Annette and Evelyn's carriage.
The drive back to London was an uneventful one. Christian didn't seem very nervous about facing his father, something Satine took as a very good sign.
She, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. Had she been a bit more nervous she'd be trembling.
"Darling," Christian started, taking her hand. "However bad you're picturing my father, he's probably about half as bad."
"He couldn't be," she trilled lightly. "Because with all the things I've heard he's second only to the devil."
"Let me guess," he said dryly. "You were the only one who can't stand to hear ghost stories." She shook her head vigorously.
They were in London, and Christian announced that they were only a few minutes away from the house. He started to get excited.
"Christian, there's something I need to tell you." Satine began nervously.
Christian pried his eyes away from the window. "Hmm?" he asked absentmindedly.
"Christian, I'm serious."
"I'm listening!" he protested.
"Well-" she started.
"We're home!" crowed Christian as they pulled up in the driveway. Annette threw open their door.
"Are you ready to face the evil sorcerer Jeremy?" she cackled. Christian swatted at her.
"Quit trying to scare her." he admonished.
"Only trying to have a little fun." she pouted. She started towards the house wailing. "Bewaaaaaare of the Jerrrrrrremyyyyyyyy. Bewaaaaaaaaaare."
Christian turned to Satine apologetically. "My sister's a head case. I apologize."
He hopped down from the carriage, offering Satine his hand. She stepped down.
Just then, a young man came bounding down the stairs. It was quite obvious that he was Christian's brother- they shared almost identical features. His hair, however, was the same as Annette's.
"Ah," he said dryly. "The prodigal son returns."
Annette hit him good-naturedly. "Would it kill you to be nice once in a while, Greg?"
Gregory. The brother Christian didn't like very much.
Gregory eyed Satine slowly, moving up and down. Satine cringed slightly, Christian slid his arm around her waist.
"Blimey, Chris. I would have thought you'd be married to a plain girl, with your face. But this one..." he issued a low whistle. "This one's quite a looker. What are you doing with a guy like him?"
Satine raised her nose at him. Christian bit back a laugh, and started to propel Satine forward. Into the house.
Satine didn't remember much of the house, besides Annette's room. The first time she had been in there she had been unconscious, and the second time she was so upset to be leaving she didn't take much notice of her surroundings beside the giant portrait that loomed over the stairs.
But this time it wasn't the portrait over the stairs that caught Satine's eye.
It was Jeremy Deveraux.
He stood there with a cold expression on his face.
"Christian." he said emotionlessly.
"Father." he replied.
He took let his gaze move to Satine, slowly appraising her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Evelyn's arrival stopped him.
His dull eyes brightened a bit. "Evie." he said, sounding a bit nicer. He walked down the stairs.
Evelyn smiled warmly. "Jeremy." They embraced.
He looked around his wife. "And where is my daughter?" he asked, his frigid tone having returned.
"I'm here, Papa." said Annette, appearing from behind Evelyn. Evelyn stepped back.
Clara was hovering in the doorway. She wasn't anxious to involved.
A younger boy, who Satine assumed to be Thomas, rushed out of another room.
"Thomas." said Evelyn, opening her arms. Thomas ran into them.
Now that the whole family's been called, thought Christian, can we please get on with it?
Jeremy looked back at Satine. She resisted the urge to raise her chin imperiously as an act of defiance.
"So," Jeremy drawled. "This is your wife."
Christian gulped and nodded.
"May I see the papers?"
Christian and Satine cast nervous glances at one another. They had never expected someone to ask for documentation. Before Christian could respond, Satine had burst into tears and lung herself into Jeremy's arms.
Jeremy stood still for a moment, unsure how to respond. Every jaw in the room was on the floor. NO ONE hugged Jeremy Deveraux.
Gingerly, awkwardly, Jeremy's arms reached up and started to pat Satine's back.
"There, uh, there. What's the matter?"
Satine pulled away, her eyes rimmed with tears. "Oh, it was horrible! We got married in the church I was baptized in and my parents were married in, and we left on our honeymoon, when we returned... the house had burnt down! My beloved parents were dead, the papers were gone, everything, everything, lost!" she burst into tears again.
Jeremy ineptly patted her back again. "There, there. It's alright. We'll have you remarried." He looked over her head at his family. Evelyn had a shocked expression, Christian's jaw was hanging open, Annette's eyes were as wide as saucers, Thomas looked as though he had seen a ghost, and Gregory leaned against the wall with an amused smile.
"What's her name?" hissed Jeremy.
"Sa-" started Evelyn, Annette, and Christian.
But Satine was too quick. She pulled away and looked at him.
"Julia." she said evenly. "My name is Julia."
Boy, I keep getting in to trouble with this story. Oh well, proceed.
I gave Satine a name! Yay!
Since works has decided to convert to doc. it doesn't seem to like é, e's with accents. If you see something like clich, it's supposed to be cliche with an accent on the 'e'
And (yeah, I have a lot to say) I seem to have typos I only see after I've posted. I know, they're annoying, but I'm typing this as a go along, and I have no BETA READER! Apologies.
Satine looked out her window. Christian was down in the driveway, talking to the driver.
The driver that would take them to the mountains.
Mrs. Deveraux- Evelyn, as she had insisted she call her- had to have een the sweetest woman Satine had ever met. She was charming and very attentive. If Christian had told her anything about her past, she had made light of it.
Annette was a doll, and she idolized Satine in a quiet manner.
"I think she's a Goddess from the stories." she had whispered to Christian. "No woman could be that beautiful and have all those beautiful clothes.
Evelyn had sent their butler, Chauncy, to fetch Christian's and Satine's bags, which Annette had rifled through with the utmost reverence. "And look how fashionable they are!" Annette had cried, examining the dresses. "They're beautiful!"
Annette would sit for hours chatting away with Satine, who was no longer allowed to talk.
The doctor had told her she strained her voice far too much, in addition to the weak state of her lungs, and in order to prevent serious damage she was not allowed to speak. Satine, indignant, had refused.
"I won't let you do it! I won't let you take away my voice!" she had screamed, on the verge of hysterics. Emotional, she had turned to Christian fearfully. "Don't let them! Christian, don't let them!"
What could Christian do? Though it broke his heart to refuse Satine, he wouldn't allow her to endanger her health. He made the horrified, shocked Satine promise that she wouldn't talk until the Doctor said so.
Annette was good company for Satine. She wasn't like other girls, she was interesting and intelligent. She would read aloud from novels, from books of poetry, from history books. It didn't matter to either of them, but Annette was such a dramatic reader Satine had written (in French) that she should be an actress.
That was another problem with the communication barrier. Satine had sheepishly admitted to Christian that she couldn't write in English. Harold ne voir pas l'importance du ecriture Anglais, she had protested. Juste la language.
Neither Annette nor Evelyn spoke French, so Christian was used as the translator.
Satine's favorite part of being with Annette was the stories she would tell about Christian.
"We were all going to the country for a little vacation. So we arrived there and- God, we were little, I was about eight, so Tommy was five, Greg was ten and Christie was twelve- and the first thing he does is run into the forest and walk right into a hornet's nest. Well, they weren't all too happy about that and stung him all over!"
But none of these fond memories came to mind as she watched the servants load the two carriages that would take them up to the mountains.
Well, they would take Annette and Evelyn and Christian up to their house in the mountains. They would take Satine to the sanitarium.
The doctor hadn't wanted to move Satine right away, fearful of what she might come encounter, so they had waited a week after Satine had awakened.
Satine was in luck, Annette had whispered. Their father was out of town on a business trip, and with him he had taken Thomas and Gregory. Which was the only bone providence had thrown them.
Christian's father: stern, godfearing Jeremy Deveraux. He who would rip her to shreds, Satine was certain. She had never seen him except for the portrait she had seen downstairs in one of the few instances Evelyn had found it suitable to move her.
Jeremy even looked frightening the portrait, which all in all was a cheerful painting. Evelyn, Annette, and the three boys were smiling, but Jeremy had a look of consternation on his face that frightened Satine more than she would have ever admitted to.
Based on the stories Christian had told her and the reports Annette had given her about the fight between them before he moved to Montmartre, Jeremy had taken the form of the monsters that had plagued Satine was she was a little girl in Marisse, sharing a bed with her sisters.
The carriages were nice. Evelyn and Annette would travel in one, and Christian and herself in the others. Though Evelyn had insisted it was so that they didn't tire the horses with one full carriage of people and one full of luggage, Satine knew it was so that they could talk.
While Satine was fluent in English, it was obvious she was more comfortable in French. And it seemed a reflex for Christian to prattle away in French when speaking to Satine, then seamlessly turning to Annette or his Mother and finishing the conversation on English.
"Christian's always had a gift with languages," Evelyn had announced proudly.
There was a knock on the door, and a pause. The pause was unnecessary, it wasn't like Satine was allowed to respond.
"Satine?" came a voice. It was Annette. She opened the door. "Good morning."
Satine nodded at her, smiling. She motioned to the window and raised a hand as if to ask 'what's going on?'
Annette sat next to her on the window seat. "Christian's telling the driver the things he needs to know, I guess. Here." She handed Satine her coat. Satine fingered the collar.
Annette studied Satine for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. "Are you scared?"
Satine looked away before slowly nodding her head.
Annette took her hand. "It'll be alright. We'll be there everyday. The people there will be nice, I promise."
Satine turned her head listlessly back towards the window. Christian was finishing what he was saying and walking back into the house.
Annette stood up. 'Come on, darling. Let's put on your coat." she pulled Satine to her feet and helped Satine into her coat. Satine just stood there.
Annette stood back and smiled at her. "You look lovely."
Satine nodded her thanks, and sat back down at the window, just looking out at the slate-gray sky. She couldn't remember the sun shining since they had arrived in England.
Annette sighed. She knew Satine was unhappy. That much was obvious. She did not, however, know the drastic difference in Satine's personality.
Christian knew. Christian saw the light fading from her eyes. And it broke his heart.
Satine blamed herself for her weakness, which she despised. She abhorred the doctor, who she blamed for the loss of her voice.
Without speech, Satine withdrew. She was miserable. She hardly ever smiled any more, and if she did, it was only a shadow of the dazzling grin she had possessed before.
Christian wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do. And the longer he waited, the farther removed Satine became.
Once she gets better, Christian promised himself, She'll go back to normal. She'll smile again.
She has to.
Annette sighed unhappily, and turned to leave the room. Christian was bounding up the stairs, ready to take Satine.
Christian looked at Annette when he stopped outside the door. His eyes searched hers.
Annette couldn't bring herself to smile or do anything comforting. She couldn't set him up.
Christian's face fell at Annette's downcast eyes. She wordlessly departed down the stairs.
Christian walked into the room slowly. Satine was sitting in the windowseat, leaning back against the wall. She gave him a faint smile.
Christian grinned back at her. "You ready?" he asked.
Satine nodded, not moving from her windowseat. She lifted her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed daintily.
Christian knelt next to her. "It'll be alright." he whispered.
She just looked down at him with hollow, vacant eyes.
Where do we go from here?
This isn't where we intended to be.
We had it all, you believed in me
I believed in you
Christian stood up and slid one arm under Satine's knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up effortlessly.
Satine looked at him, surprised registered in her eyes. What on earth was he doing? She could walk down the stairs for God's sake.
She didn't anything, not because she couldn't, but because she didn't have any words to say.
Certainty's disappeared
What would we do, for our dream to survive
How do we keep all our passions alive,
as we used to do?
Christian didn't look down at her. He could hardly stand to see her this way- empty and void of emotion and happiness. It broke his heart to watch her become this way. What had happened to his lighthearted darling?
Deep in my heart
I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away
Satine watched him carefully. She knew it hurt him to see her this way.
She bit her lip, and tentatively put her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder.
You must love me
Christian felt his heart jump. This was the first sign of emotion Satine had given since she had lost the use of her voice five days before. And here she was, cuddling into him.
You must love me
Satine didn't get it. She could be dying. She could be dead tomorrow. Why was he still with her?
Why are you at my side?
How can I be any use to you now?
Give me a chance, and I'll let you see how
Nothing has changed
She wouldn't say anything like that to him. More than dying or never getting back her voice (damn that doctor!), she feared losing him.
In a surge of insecurity, she squeezed him tighter, nuzzling closer.
Deep in my heart
I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away
There was only one explanation for why he was still here. Only one.
You must love me
You must love me
You must love me
~*~
If Annette and Evelyn were surprised to see Satine in Christian's arms, they didn't show it. They both looked at one another with raised eyebrows and turned back.
They both called goodbye, to which Christian responded and Satine waved, before all four climbed into their respective carriages.
"I hope she's returning to normal." Evelyn said worriedly.
Annette smiled knowingly. "I think she will. All she needs is a little love, Mamma."
Evelyn nodded and squeezed her daughter's hand affectionately. "I know, dear heart. And you and I will make sure to give it to her."
Satine stretched her long legs across the seat. She smiled faintly at him before settling down into the seats and rolling her head towards the window.
"Satine..." he started.
She looked back at him.
His face was one of agony. There she was, the woman he loved, right within arm's reach, yet she was so far away from him it was tearing him apart.
Satine, sensing his need, reached her hand towards him, which he took with startling rapidity. He clung to it as if it were a lifeline.
"Don't let go, Satine." he breathed.
She looked at him, puzzled, and moved their hands, showing that she hadn't. See, Christian, I haven't let go.
"You're pulling away from me." he accused. He got off his seat and was kneeling besides her on the floor of the carriage.
Satine shook her head fervently.
He nodded.
"Satine, I love you. I love you more than anything, more than I can tell you. But," he said, taking a deep breath. "I can't love someone who isn't there."
Bewildered, Satine pointed to herself and motioned that she was right next to him.
"Yes," Christian concurred. "You're right next to me. I can see you. But where are you here?" He put his free hand to his heart, and then to hers.
Satine understood what he was telling her, and tears welled up in her eyes.
She put her hand over his, and then moved her hand to his heart. She tapped her hand against his chest firmly to say 'there'.
Satine moved her hand to tilt his face up to look at her. 'I love you' she mouthed. 'Come what may'
Christian nodded. "Come what may."
Satine removed her hand from his and reached down for the paper and fountain pen Evelyn had so thoughtfully supplied.
Seulement Anglaise, she scrawled. Pas encore le Française.
"Only English?" he asked, surprised.
Satine nodded, and wrote out: I can't write in English, but I want to speak it. We'll work on writing later.
Christian smiled at her. "So ambitious." She nodded, and then yawned.
"There, darling, you go to sleep, and when you wake up you'll be nice and rested."
Satine nodded and curled up in a corner. She was asleep instantly.
Christian watched her for a moment. He was petrified of what would happen to her. He trusted the doctor to return her to health, but he was worried about what would happen to Satine's mental state.
He knew she was insecure. That they had just had that little exchange gave him hope, but she was still a far cry from the bubbly Satine she had once been. If that was the way she was without her voice and with her by her side continuously, how would she be without her voice and without him?
Christian said a quick little prayer. God had seen it fit to spare Satine's life and give her this extra chance. Maybe God could help her out again.
~*~
Satine had been the sanitarium a week, and she had never been more miserable in her life.
The nurses there were haughty and cold. They very obviously did not like Satine. They thought she complained too much. None of them spoke French. They were at a loss in the language department. If Satine wanted anything, she had to wait until Christian was allowed in. Christian would then report it to the nurses, who would take it with a docile smile and nod and then turn around and viciously snap to their friends about the harlot in room twenty.
Another horrid aspect: there were strict visiting hours. It didn't matter who you were or why you needed to see someone, you had to wait until ten o'clock in the morning to be admitted, be out at noon, wait until two to return, and be gone by six. No exceptions.
Christian, of course, was outside the door at 11:59 and didn't leave until the nurses forced him. For all their hatred for Satine, they seemed to adore Christian, both old and young alike.
Everyone who came into the room had to wear stupid little cloth masks over their noses and mouths. Satine hated it. Seeing people enter her room with those stupid little screens made her feel more like an invalid than ever.
The food was horrible, and Satine would refuse certain dishes, adding fuel to the fire of the nurses heated animosity towards her. Annette started to bring her little pies and cakes when she saw the slop Satine had forced down her throat.
And so it went for a time. While Christian guessed Satine hated it there, she never told him so explicitly. She didn't want to worry him.
Yes, Satine was certain that if it weren't for Annette's witty stories and Christian's loving whispers, and both their little gifts, she would go mad.
She had a quite an impressive collection of small trinkets now: a small stuffed bear Christian had bought her, a stained glass jewelry box Annette had found her, a nice pair of gloves from Evelyn, a book of French poetry (God only knew where he had found it) from Christian, some paper dolls from Annette (which had made Satine shake with silent mirth and Christian smack his sister. "Why on earth would you buy her paper dolls?" he cried. "Well," Annette had responded. "Paper Dolls are quite fun to dress up when you're not allowed to get dressed yourself!") and a beautiful needlepoint pillow from Evelyn.
And so she slept with the bear next to her, she kept the jewelry next to her for decoration, she wore the gloves whenever possible, she read the book of poetry over and over, she cut the paper dolls out and played with them, and admired the pillow often. In the hours she spent alone with the hateful nurses, these were the items that helped her remember just how loved she was.
~*~
Things began looking up the two weeks later. Christian had a firm talk with the doctor, who made an exception for them in allowing them to spend lunchtime with Satine, making their visiting hours stretch from ten to six straight. He also revoked the rule that all her visitors had to wear masks, saying that risk of contagion had lowered dramatically and that Satine was healing faster than any patient that he had ever seen. But, much to Satine's chagrin, he would not remove the rule about her voice.
However, the best thing to happen was the new nurse. Fluent in French and unaffected by the other nurses, Clara Anderson was a godsend.
Satine's response to the new nurse was so favorable that Christian reported it to the doctor. The physician, who had long been worried about her reactions to the nurses, instantly made Clara Satine's primary caretaker.
Clara was in her mid-twenties with honey-colored hair and bright blue eyes. She was from the Isle of Jersey ("Dreadful place," she told Satine. "It's always gloomy and foggy. Couldn't wait to leave.") originally, but had been studying in London for a few years. She had picked up French from her mother's family, who were French. Whereas Satine insisted that Clara speak to her in English, they could communicate with Satine's notes.
Satine's happiness had increased so much that it was visible. Having a way of communicating with someone besides Christian made her feel a lot better, and having Christian with her for eight hours rejuvenated her. Her cheeks started to regain their rosy pallor, and a bit of the sparkle returned to her eyes. She smiled more often.
The physician was so impressed by Satine's improvement that he announced that if she continued this way she would be allowed to go to home in the next month. Under strict bedrest, of course. And with the attendance of a nurse. But anything was better than that awful sanitarium.
When told that, Satine smiled. She was determined to be home and talking by Christian's birthday, February 12th. As it was, they were in the middle of January. Satine resolutely swore to herself and to Clara that she was going to be home and speaking by the 12th.
~*~
Two days after the doctor's notice of Satine's progress, Evelyn got a letter from her husband. He had returned home and learned of Christian's indiscretion. Mistakenly believing that Satine and Christian were married, as Evelyn thought, Jeremy had decided not to meet Satine until she was well. He gave Evelyn permission to stay on in the mountains with Christian and Annette until 'Christian's wife' had recovered, and then they were return straightaway to London.
Evelyn wordlessly handed her son the letter, which he took with shaking hands. He skimmed over it, sighing with relief. His father was being merciful, something he rarely was, in allowing them to stay until Satine was better. Jeremy could have ruined everything. Had he told Evelyn to return, she would have.
It wasn't until later that he realized that Jeremy hadn't mentioned Satine's name.
~*~
Satine was released from St. William's Sanatorium on Tuesday, January 30th under the care of Miss Clara Anderson, after resting there for less than a month. Satine had been the first patient to ever recover in that amount of time and was basically considered a medical miracle.
She had complete half of her task with 13 days to spare.
The Deveraux's mountain home was charming. Unlike the house in the city, this one was open and airy, sprawling over land instead of building up, like the townhouse. The view from any window was picturesque: the west their was the valley, which framed magnificent sunsets, to the north the mountains that cast a long shadow over the house during the day, the west a river and the little village, and to the south a beautiful lake and a forest.
The lake was a common meeting spot for both members of society and the villagers, so at any given moment during the day the lake was crowded with people wanting to glide across the ice.
Annette seemed to be very fond of skating, and often insisted that her brother accompany her. Satine derived no greater delight than from sitting at her window and watching them- or, more truthfully, watching Christian fall repeatedly.
Both Evelyn and Clara were still very worried about Satine, and would not let her go out yet.
"What if you were to catch a chill, dear?" Evelyn would ask anxiously. "Then what would happen?" Clara was all to quick to agree. They would abide by doctor's orders: Stay warm and silent.
As the week of the 12th grew closer, Satine grew more and more impatient to be out of the house and speaking. On the 8th he proclaimed that she could go out only if she was kept warm and sat down. No one found this a problem. Wrapped up in furs from her head to her toes, Satine was placed on a bench that, when pushed, moved across the ice on gliders, which seemed to be very fashionable for ladies. Annette would skate alongside the bench and Christian would push. And fall. He claimed that the bench gave him more balance, but Satine shuddered to think that if he was that bad with something to hold on to, how bad was he alone?
Another time, Satine sat nestled in furs while Annette and Christian built snow men. Annette's looked relatively good, but Christian's looked downright sickly.
"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life." announced Annette.
Christian opened his mouth to protest, looking back at his creation. "That was cruel, Annie. It's not that bad." He turned to Satine. "Is it, darling?"
Satine snickered and nodded. Christian gasped in mock shock and fell to the ground twitching in pretend agony until he 'died' and lay there, motionless.
Annette looked Satine with wide, innocent eyes. "I guess we should bury him, then." She commenced in kicking the snow towards Christian.
"All right, all right! I'm up, my snowman is hideous! Okay! I surrender!"
Annette smiled and daintily pranced away, going towards the waiting carriage.
She did not expect the snowball that landed on her back.
"CHRISTIAN!" she wailed, turning. He stood where he had been, whistling a little tune.
Gasping in indignation, she bent down and balled up a handful of snow.
Satine let out a little shriek as the snowballs began to fly. Ducking and weaving Annette's ammunition, he hid behind Satine. "I surrender!" he cried. He peered over Satine's shoulder, but he couldn't see Annette.
He felt a slush of ice down his shirt a minute later. "ANNETTE!" he roared, and started chasing his little sister, who giggled madly.
Satine turned in her seat to watch. This was what a family was, she realized. She had mixed emotions over that: jealousy that she had never had any of this with her family, and love, because she had been made a part of this one.
Evenings were peaceful. After dinner, they would all gather around the fire. Clara, who was regarded now as a treasured family guest, Evelyn and Annette would embroider and drink their tea. Satine had the chair closest to the fire, swathed in furs and blankets. Christian sat at the foot of her chair, his elbow resting on her knee, reading aloud from some great novel or another. Sometimes Satine stayed awake and listened to the pleasant hum of Christian's voice as he read, but more often she fell into a contented sleep and was carried up to bed.
Satine was happy, happier than she had been since she had fallen ill. Only one thing could make everything perfect.
Speech.
~*~
Christian wasn't sure what Satine was up to, but he was sure that it wasn't good.
She was being altogether way to secretive for Christian's peace of mind. She had been writing notes left and right to Clara, who would either pocket them or scurry off to translate them for Annette. When asked about them, Clara merely shrugged and said "Personal matters, sir," at which both herself and Annette would burst into laughter.
When he asked Satine, she shrugged vaguely and smiled impishly.
Even Evelyn was in on the secret! Evasion was everywhere.
Christian shook his head at his nervousness. Satine was stuck in the house, and couldn't speak. How could she be plotting?
Satine was up to something, but it wasn't what he thought.
~*~
The morning of February 12th dawned clear and chilly. Christian was awoken at the ungodly hour of eight by Annette, who barged right on in, Satine and Clara in tow.
"Good morning and happy birthday!" cried Annette, tossing her gift at the half-awake Christian. Satine sat down next to him, embracing him and giving him a quick kiss.
"Morning breath." he accused. She stuck her tongue out at him before mouthing 'Happy Birthday.'
Clara sat down a breakfast tray. All three girls were in their nightgowns and dressing gowns, and they crowded around Christian as he opened Annette's present. It was an IOU in a elaborate box. Christian groaned and threw the wrapping paper at her. "Cheap!"
Annette ducked. "You're the hardest person to buy gifts for. That's why Satine didn't get you anything."
Satine swatted at her before shaking her head vigorously.
Satine was going to hand him her gift when Evelyn swept into the room. She, of course, was fully dressed, and glared in shock at all four of the young people in the room, who hung their heads like guilty children.
"Annette Rochelle Deveraux, have you completely taken leave of your senses?" she hissed in a semi-dangerous voice. "Up at this hour and traipsing about in your nightgown. Go to your room and get dressed immediately." She said 'immediately' in a low, menacing voice. Annette kept her giggles in check.
"Yes, Mamma." she said, hastily making her escape.
"Miss Anderson, I am shocked at your lack of decorum. I expect much better from you. Get right to your room."
Clara too managed not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. "Yes, Mrs. Deveraux."
Evelyn turned to Christian. "And you, Mr. Birthday Boy? What's your excuse? Allowing the girls in your room with you in your nightclothes. Our morals have not fallen to the wayside, sir, not a chance. I am ashamed of you."
She turned to Satine, who was fairly cringing. She flashed her a lovely smile. "Dear, it's quite cold. Go put on something warm before you catch a chill."
Satine smiled brilliantly and nodded at Evelyn. Christian was watching Satine with a shocked expression. Behind Evelyn's back Satine flashed him a smug smile before disappearing into the hall.
Evelyn regarded Christian's slack jaw with contempt. "Catching flies, dear?"
"You like her better!" he accused. "And it's my birthday!"
She sniffed with disdain. "Of course I do. She's lovely and well-bred and happens to be my guest. Now, Christian, you are going to get up and be dressed in ten minutes or I'm going to dress you myself and wash your ears."
Christian moaned. "Alright... alright... I'm going..."
~*~
Christian was certain that either all three girls were up all night or had woken up at the first sign of daylight. The dining room was festooned with streamers. A big sign behind the head of the table spread across the room reading 'Happy Birthday, Christian!' Annette had destroyed 5 napkins by writing 'Christian's birthday, February 12th, 1900' in black ink.
Evelyn, however, was still adamant about breakfast.
"Children, don't think that just because you're grown up and have guests and we're not home means that we're changing our habits. Oh no. Breakfast first, then gifts."
"Mam-maaaaaa." whined Christian and Annette in unison. Satine burst out laughing at the similarities of their features at that very moment.
They all sat down to a nice breakfast of oatmeal, toast and marmalade, sausage, bacon and tea. Annette finished her entire breakfast in about two bites whereas Evelyn had just taken her first sip of tea, Satine had just started on her toast, and Clara was taking her second bite of oatmeal. Christian looked up from his sausage. "In a hurry, Annette?" he asked playfully. She made a face at him. "What? It's not like you have a present for me, anyway."
Evelyn clucked her tongue at her daughter. "That's ignominious, Annette."
Christian switched his gaze from Annette to Satine, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're looking well, Satine. How do you feel, darling?"
She smiled at him and nodded, expressing that she felt fine. While most people were confused when Satine made motions such as that, Christian knew exactly what she meant. All three other women present had each exclaimed their surprise at Christian's and Satine's ability to hold entire conversations like that.
Fifteen minutes later Annette looked as though she would burst, and Evelyn was rather sick of watching Annette bounce up and down next to her. She waved a hand at her son. "Alright, Christian. Here are your presents. Iris!" she called. Instantly a maid appeared, laden down by a considerable amount of presents.
Annette had gotten him a gift, it was a nicely bound book of poetry. "You know, I thought you'd like reading some more of those rhyming verses. This one," she said, jerking a thumb at Satine. "Seems to enjoy it far more than is healthy."
"Oh, hush your mouth and come over here so I can give you a hug." Christian had muttered, embracing his little sister.
From his mother, some shirts. A necktie. A dandy little top hat. "Thanks, Mum."
Evelyn shrugged modestly. "It isn't much, dear. You can expect some more when we get back home."
The last box was from Clara. It contained some nice handkerchiefs with Christian's initials on them.
"Clara, you shouldn't have." he said. He cautiously gave Clara a little hug.
He turned to Satine, who was concealing her smile. "Alright," he demanded. "Where is it?"
Satine raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, and turned to Evelyn.
"Christian, have you NO tact whatsoever?" she asked dejectedly. Annette and Clara hid their laughter behind their hands.
Satine raised her hands in defeat, sweeping them around as if to motion that there was nothing there. Christian let his jaw fall. "That's wretched, Satine. It's my birthday and you didn't even get me anything. That's positively unfit. I still love you, though."
She smiled at him as if he was doing her a big service, then sighed, held up her hands in mock defeat, and motioned to Iris.
Christian turned excitedly to the door. A few minutes later Iris reappeared, wheeling a cart with a giant white sheet over it.
Christian turned to Satine. "You didn't."
She made no expression, but motioned for him to pull the sheet off.
Carefully, Christian pulled it off.
There sat a beautiful, gleaming, new Underwood typewriter, just like his old one. Behind it was a stack of paper.
Christian sat there for a moment with a look of shock on his face. Typewriters were NOT cheap. Where had she gotten the money?
He turned to Satine, shaking his head. "No." he said. She nodded, and motioned for him to look at it again.
He turned back to the typewriter. It was beautiful.
There was already a sheet of paper in there, just waiting for him to start. He could just spread his fingers and-
Hold on.
Christian peered at the paper.
There was something already typed on it.
He ripped the sheet out, and brought it close to his face.
There were three words on it, but that was the greatest birthday gift Christian could have asked for.
It read: I can talk now.
"Happy birthday." Satine said quietly. She moved to sit down on his lap.
Evelyn instantly remembered something she needed to do. "Annette, you need to practice your piano. Clara, you will accompany us. Come, Iris."
Christian released his hold on Satine.
"Does this mean you're all better now?" he asked with child-like innocence.
Satine nodded. "Yes. I need to stay here for a week or so more- the doctor says the mountain air is good for me- but after that we can go to wherever we want."
"Thank God," Christian said before drawing Satine closer to him.
Evelyn and the girls went to town around noon, claiming desperate items needed were in the village, and that they'd be back for dinner.
Satine and Christian couldn't have cared less. They spent the entire day talking.
Well, almost the entire day.
~*~
The next to days passed anything but quietly. Satine felt that after a over six weeks of silence she should be entitled to chatter at any possible opportunity. For a few hours all members of the household found it endearing. After the third one, however, the only one able to tolerate Satine's endless prattle was Christian. If they weren't talking in some room, they were off on a walk through the valley, or off skating, or sledding, or at town. Always only the two of them, Christian listening attentively as the ridiculously bundled-up Satine vocated every thought on the slightest occurrence.
Neither of them could have been happier.
The doctor had come on Valentine's Day, prescribing a week more of the mountain air before they could return to the city. At that, the entire household rejoiced.
A week later everything was packed up, and the carriages were ready. Clara was going to stay with Satine for at least another week as to ensure her health. She was riding in Annette and Evelyn's carriage.
The drive back to London was an uneventful one. Christian didn't seem very nervous about facing his father, something Satine took as a very good sign.
She, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. Had she been a bit more nervous she'd be trembling.
"Darling," Christian started, taking her hand. "However bad you're picturing my father, he's probably about half as bad."
"He couldn't be," she trilled lightly. "Because with all the things I've heard he's second only to the devil."
"Let me guess," he said dryly. "You were the only one who can't stand to hear ghost stories." She shook her head vigorously.
They were in London, and Christian announced that they were only a few minutes away from the house. He started to get excited.
"Christian, there's something I need to tell you." Satine began nervously.
Christian pried his eyes away from the window. "Hmm?" he asked absentmindedly.
"Christian, I'm serious."
"I'm listening!" he protested.
"Well-" she started.
"We're home!" crowed Christian as they pulled up in the driveway. Annette threw open their door.
"Are you ready to face the evil sorcerer Jeremy?" she cackled. Christian swatted at her.
"Quit trying to scare her." he admonished.
"Only trying to have a little fun." she pouted. She started towards the house wailing. "Bewaaaaaare of the Jerrrrrrremyyyyyyyy. Bewaaaaaaaaaare."
Christian turned to Satine apologetically. "My sister's a head case. I apologize."
He hopped down from the carriage, offering Satine his hand. She stepped down.
Just then, a young man came bounding down the stairs. It was quite obvious that he was Christian's brother- they shared almost identical features. His hair, however, was the same as Annette's.
"Ah," he said dryly. "The prodigal son returns."
Annette hit him good-naturedly. "Would it kill you to be nice once in a while, Greg?"
Gregory. The brother Christian didn't like very much.
Gregory eyed Satine slowly, moving up and down. Satine cringed slightly, Christian slid his arm around her waist.
"Blimey, Chris. I would have thought you'd be married to a plain girl, with your face. But this one..." he issued a low whistle. "This one's quite a looker. What are you doing with a guy like him?"
Satine raised her nose at him. Christian bit back a laugh, and started to propel Satine forward. Into the house.
Satine didn't remember much of the house, besides Annette's room. The first time she had been in there she had been unconscious, and the second time she was so upset to be leaving she didn't take much notice of her surroundings beside the giant portrait that loomed over the stairs.
But this time it wasn't the portrait over the stairs that caught Satine's eye.
It was Jeremy Deveraux.
He stood there with a cold expression on his face.
"Christian." he said emotionlessly.
"Father." he replied.
He took let his gaze move to Satine, slowly appraising her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Evelyn's arrival stopped him.
His dull eyes brightened a bit. "Evie." he said, sounding a bit nicer. He walked down the stairs.
Evelyn smiled warmly. "Jeremy." They embraced.
He looked around his wife. "And where is my daughter?" he asked, his frigid tone having returned.
"I'm here, Papa." said Annette, appearing from behind Evelyn. Evelyn stepped back.
Clara was hovering in the doorway. She wasn't anxious to involved.
A younger boy, who Satine assumed to be Thomas, rushed out of another room.
"Thomas." said Evelyn, opening her arms. Thomas ran into them.
Now that the whole family's been called, thought Christian, can we please get on with it?
Jeremy looked back at Satine. She resisted the urge to raise her chin imperiously as an act of defiance.
"So," Jeremy drawled. "This is your wife."
Christian gulped and nodded.
"May I see the papers?"
Christian and Satine cast nervous glances at one another. They had never expected someone to ask for documentation. Before Christian could respond, Satine had burst into tears and lung herself into Jeremy's arms.
Jeremy stood still for a moment, unsure how to respond. Every jaw in the room was on the floor. NO ONE hugged Jeremy Deveraux.
Gingerly, awkwardly, Jeremy's arms reached up and started to pat Satine's back.
"There, uh, there. What's the matter?"
Satine pulled away, her eyes rimmed with tears. "Oh, it was horrible! We got married in the church I was baptized in and my parents were married in, and we left on our honeymoon, when we returned... the house had burnt down! My beloved parents were dead, the papers were gone, everything, everything, lost!" she burst into tears again.
Jeremy ineptly patted her back again. "There, there. It's alright. We'll have you remarried." He looked over her head at his family. Evelyn had a shocked expression, Christian's jaw was hanging open, Annette's eyes were as wide as saucers, Thomas looked as though he had seen a ghost, and Gregory leaned against the wall with an amused smile.
"What's her name?" hissed Jeremy.
"Sa-" started Evelyn, Annette, and Christian.
But Satine was too quick. She pulled away and looked at him.
"Julia." she said evenly. "My name is Julia."