~ * ~ E S C A P I N G * T H E * U N D E R W O R L D ~ * ~

by Karadarlin and She's a Star

~ * ~ T E N : I N * T H E * N A M E * OF * L O V E ~ * ~

by Karadarlin

~*~

They loaded up their belongings in the carriage sent by Lenora, the carriage with the Claremont crest upon one side.

"He's dying, Satine." Christian said over and over. "Everyone's dying."

"Don't, please, Christian." Satine turned to look out the window, trying not to think of her sweet baby girl who was now probably…no, she wouldn't think like that. Christian leaned against her and put his head against her shoulder like a child with his mother. Satine squeezed his hand reassuringly and their lips met, only moments before Christian collapsed into sobs.

"Christian, darling love…" Satine began, unsure as of what to say next. "Don't cry, sweetheart." He lowered his head to her lap and she worked her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words to comfort.

"Why must sadness always follow us? Will we never be happy again, Satine?"

"Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed at the Moulin Rouge and never brought this sorrow upon your family."

"Don't talk like that." Christian sat up and grabbed Satine to him so furiously and possessively it hurt her.

"You're hurting me, Christian." She winced.

"I'm sorry, Satine." He looked at her, his eyes swimming with tears. "I love you."

"I love you too, Christian."

~*~

Claremont was dark and dismal. All windows had been covered with sheets to make the house darker than it already was. Satine couldn't bear to be here again. Every room contained a memory of her baby.

"Christian!" Lenora flew into her son's arms and Lavinia and Victoria gathered around them. Satine stood alone, trying not to think about Scarlett. "Your father has been asking for you."

"How is he?" Christian's face was grave and he sounded much older.

"Not well." Lenora said softly, caressing her son's cheek. "He wants to speak to you…and Satine."

"Now?"

"He'll want to talk to you alone first, I'm sure." Lavinia added, noticing that her mother was on the verge of tears. "Satine, why don't you go up to your old room to unpack?"

"I'll take you." Victoria said, grabbing for Satine's hand. "Maybe you don't remember."

Satine smiled a little and took the offered hand.

"Papa's going to die, isn't he?" Victoria asked when they were alone.

"I don't know, Vicky dear." The little girl clambered up onto Satine's lap and looked into her face. "Do you miss baby Scarlett?"

"Very much."

"I miss her too. Are you going to have another baby?"

"Not for awhile."

"When you do, will you bring it to see me?"

"Of course."

"I don't want Papa to die. But he was mean to you and Christian. Would you be happy if he died, Satine?"

"Of course not. Death is a sad thing, Little Queen."

"Will Mummy be sad?"

"Yes. Everyone will be sad."

"Even you?"

Satine wasn't quite sure what she would feel. She nodded as not to disappoint the little girl.

~ * ~

In Edward's room several doors away, Christian sat before his father. Edward Claremont, who had once been as handsome as his sons, now was but a shadow of what he had been. His face was as pale and gray as the bed sheets and he seemed to be just a wrinkle in them. Every so often, he would break out into loud, hacking coughs and lapses of memory.

"Father?" Christian whispered, trying not to see the withered old body in the bed.

"Christian? Is that you?"

"Yes, Father."

"Is that wife of yours with you?"

"No. I'm alone, Father."

"I'm going to die, Christian. I know it and you know it. But before I do, I wanted to talk to you."

"Yes, Father?"

"I'm leaving you everything."

"What about Colin?"

"He'll get the business." Edward croaked. "Now…I wanted to talk to you about something that happened in the past. Actually, I would like Satine to join us."

Satine. He'd actually called her by her given name and not "Satan" or "your whore."

"I'll go get her, Father."

Edward's eyes adjusted to the dim golden light that Satine lit as soon as she entered the room. She was wearing mourning black, and she was very pale, but still very beautiful. "You look like your mother," he said.

"My mother?" Satine was taken aback. "How do you know my mother?"

"Sit down," Edward commanded. "You too, Christian."

The couple sat before him and grasped hands.

"How do you know my mother?" Satine asked again.

"Your mother was the most beautiful woman in Paris. Gwendolyn…she was my first love, Satine. Gwendolyn is Colin's mother, not Lenora."

Both Satine and Christian were too shocked to speak. Satine finally found words. "Colin is my half-brother?"

"Yes."

"How did you meet her? My mother."

"We met through our families. Claremonts and Bellaines had always been close friends. Gwendolyn was two years my junior, and how beautiful she was! Her hair was reddish-gold like yours, but her eyes were green. She spoke beautiful English with just the hint of a French accent. She charmed her way into my heart and we were lovers for a long time until one day, she met your father. And she left me. I was enraged, furious. And I married Lenora just to make her jealous. But obviously, it did not work. She came to see me one day with Colin in her arms. My son."

"Colin isn't Mama's son?"

"No, Christian, you stupid boy. Haven't you been listening?"

"And then Gwendolyn married that heathen Peter and I never heard from her. Until the day I met you, Satine. You are the exact image of her."

Edward's breath became ragged. "I'm sorry…for putting you through everything I did."

He leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. "I can see her face. Gwen's face. She wants me to follow her."

"Father…" Christian's voice wasn't heard. Edward was whispering to himself. "I'm coming, Gwendolyn."

And with that, a small smile playing upon his lips, Edward Claremont, tyrannical patriarch who had been bittered by unfair years, took his last breath.

~ * ~

Life at Claremont went on in a stage of numbness. It was odd in that great mansion that was now Christian's without Edward clomping down the stairs and screaming. The first thing Christian did as master of the house was to set Aunt Sarah up in her own private suite with the family. The crazy old lady cornered Satine a few weeks after Edward's death.

"So you're back, dearie. Welcome back to hell."

"Hello, Aunt Sarah."

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's dead."

"Good. He was an evil bastard."

"Aunt Sarah!"

"Well," she smiled wryly. "He was!" She wheeled her chair around and faced Satine squarely. "I suppose he told you about your mother."

"Yes."

"A beautiful one, that Gwendolyn. But Eddie didn't tell you about that Marie woman, did he?"

"Marie? My Marie?"

"Yes." Sarah nodded, a strange look in her eyes. "She was his lover too."

"That man got around a lot," Satine observed dryly.

"And she's Philip's mother. But don't tell him. He thinks that I'm his mother."

"You aren't?"

"No, you silly girl. I only had one child, the baby that died. Like yours. It died in the night, like yours."

"But…that's why Marie was acting so strangely when she was here!"

"Of course."

"It's all coming together."

"The Claremont family has many skeletons in its closets." Sarah looked bemused at Satine's expression. "What's wrong, dearie?"

"Oh, nothing. But I remember how strange Marie acted when Philip paid for my…services back at the Rouge."

Aunt Sarah wheeled her creaky chair around and dug in a trunk, pulling out a tapestry. She held out the wall hanging to Satine, who looked over the embroidering carefully. It was a frightening picture: Satine, dead, in a sobbing Christian's arms.

"You escaped fate, Satine." Sarah said, her voice low and whispery. "This would have been your fate."

A small noise escaped Satine's lips and she pushed the tapestry away.

"You don't want it?"

"It's awfully scary."

"Well, I'll add it to my collection."


~*~

The Claremont family sat in what had been Edward's office, all eyes affixed on the lawyer that sat in the huge, chocolate-covered leather chair. Satine, comfortably situated between Victoria and Lavinia, studied Christian's face. He looked tense, worried, seated beside Philip and Colin. Lenora knotted and unknotted the string of pearls around her neck, face anxious.

The lawyer snapped the pages of Edward's will and cleared his throat. "I trust you're all here," he began, his voice dry.

The three sons of Edward nodded their heads. "First, we will begin with the trust of the Claremont businesses. To my son, Colin Edward Claremont, the entire Claremont family stock and chain of businesses."

Colin sat back in his seat, smiling contentedly. "In spite of his illegitimacy." The lawyer continued. Colin's mouth dropped.

"What the hell?" He spat, glaring at his mother.

"Colin," Lenora began, her voice trembling. "I'm not your mother."

"Well who the hell is?"

"My mother." Satine whispered. "You're my half-brother."

"Colin, please, sit down." Christian held his brother back and made Colin sit. "Please, Mr. Peters, continue."

"To my son, Christian Troy Claremont, I bequeath the ancestral home of Claremont and all family inheritance."

Everyone sat in silence and Mr. Peters went on. "To my son Philip Charles Claremont, I give a share in all family businesses."

"His son?" Philip's face went white. "What's this about, Aunt Lenora?"

"You're Edward's son, Philip. Edward's and Marie Zidler's."

"Marie the whore?"

"Marie is not a whore!" Satine spat, blue eyes sparkling with anger. Philip glared her way and she glared back.

"She's your mother." Lenora concluded.

Ignoring the family drama going on before him, Mr. Peters read on. "To my daughters, Lavinia Grace Marguerite and Victoria Lenore Sarah Claremont, a share in Claremont and all family businesses, plus their inheritance once they reach the age of eighteen. And to my wife, Lenora Marguerite Collins Claremont, I bequeath the remainder of my money and her share in Claremont until she wishes to leave. To my sister, Sarah Renee Elizabeth Claremont, I leave enough money to keep her well-cared for until her eventual death."

Christian glanced at Satine, who smiled at him. "You got the house," she mouthed.

"I don't want it."

"And," Peters continued, "to Satine Marie Gwendolyn Claremont, wife of my son Christian Troy, I give the trunk up in the attic."

"Trunk in the attic?" She repeated. "What trunk?"

"Ooh!" Victoria giggled. "You have a mystery present from Papa!"

"Let's go look, Satine! Can we, Mamma?" Lavinia smiled at her mother.

"Of course, girls. Go ahead. You aren't needed here anymore."

Victoria took Satine's hand and pulled her up the stairs to the attic. It was a dusty, dim place that made all three sneeze as soon as they opened the door.

"Which trunk did Papa mean?" Lavinia wondered. "There's dozens!"

"This one?" Vicky opened a huge box full of letters.

"No." Lavinia said. "That's just business stuff."

"This one?" Victoria continued, pulling open another cover.

"This one," Satine said, kneeling beside a red-painted trunk. Her black mourning gown was already turning gray from the dust. She opened the cover and blew some of the grime away. Her sisters-in-law crowded around her as she examined the contents. It smelled of rose perfume, the scent she could remember her mother wearing. There were several letters marked "Edward" in Gwendolyn's fancy cursive, and quite a few hats and gowns.

"Pretty!" Vicky gasped, holding up an intricate hat covered in pearls and flowers. She put it on her head and cocked it over one eye. "I am Mademoiselle Claremont."

Satine smiled.

"Was this your mother's?" the little girl asked.

"Yes." Satine's eyes began to swim with tears. Gently she grabbed a little pink dress from the trunk and held it in front of her. "This was mine." She murmured.

Lavinia and Victoria were silent, watching her. Vicky took off the hat she wore and placed it tenderly beside Satine, who was off in another world.

~*~

Between the two of them, Lavinia and Satine managed to carry the huge thing down the steep attic stairs and into Satine and Christian's bedroom. Lenora and Christian, who had finished the reading of the will, joined them and watched as Satine removed the few things she had left to remember her mother by.

Gwendolyn, of what Satine could remember, was a beautiful woman. She spoke softly, wore simple, fluttering gowns of light silk, and never wore her long red hair up as other women did. It was her crowning glory. She had been a wonderful mother, but so frail. Satine's father had been hardworking, yet it had been difficult for him to support his small family that was Gwendolyn, Satine, and a baby boy named Olivier who hadn't lived past his first birthday.

Satine talked for what seemed like hours, telling her family members of her life. She told them how she had met Harold, out on the streets after her father had kicked her out of their home in a drunken rage. She told them how she'd become the Sparkling Diamond and how quickly the Moulin Rouge had become her home. And then Christian added his voice to hers in telling them their story. Lenora, the only one who hadn't heard the full thing, was crying softly when their tale finally ended.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you my life story earlier," Satine began, running her fingers over a bottle of perfume.

"How did my father get all these things?" Lavinia asked, looking at the photo album that had been stowed in the trunk. In it were pictures of Gwendolyn as a young woman, with the handsome Edward, and then with Satine's father in their wedding portrait. Gwendolyn was smiling, but Satine's father was not. Another group of pictures followed: Satine as a baby, sitting with her mother, at two, wearing the pink dress…She looked exactly as Scarlett had. Christian and Satine had no photographs of their baby daughter. Lavinia, noticing the looks upon their faces, quietly shut the book and put it away.

~*~

"I can't stay here anymore," Satine said to Christian late that night. "I need to get away."

"Do you want to go back to Montmartre?"

"Yes," Satine said softly. "I need to go home."