Christian smiled a shy smile at me and bent to his meal. I stood with my glass of wine and went to stand out on his balcony. The wings of the Moulin's windmill dominated the view. They sat frozen against the lights of the surrounding buildings and the stars in the black night sky. With my enhanced eyesight I could see that several of the red light bulbs were broken out and much of the red paint was flaking away. Trash littered the sidewalk in front of the place; creating little barricades of refuse that deterred no one from entering. Like myself the Moulin was not completely dead. 'Spectacular Spectacular' had only played one night and no one came to watch or dance with the dancers anymore, but there was still company to be found behind its doors. The dancers had all gotten jobs elsewhere, I had seen to that, but Zidler himself had to make a living some how.
It would rise again, just as Satine had. The question of the whether or not the Duke would take possession of the place had never been answered. He had 'vanished' the night of Satine's last performance. My lawyers assured me that when a year had passed ownership of the Moulin would revert to Zidler and he could reopen in any form he chose. For now the authorities overlooked the sordid but quiet business he and his new girls were doing. They survived and the Moulin would survive.
Returning to the room, I found that Christian had eaten most of the soup and had even drunk the tea, but had not touch the other food. I reasoned that he had eaten so little lately that skipping the bread and cheese was probably a wise decision. He and the room looked much better and I took a deep breath to enjoy being able to do so in his presence without gagging. Oddly enough, even though the scent had improved enough that it smelled like a different room, there was still a faint underlying odor that I couldn't place. It was a rotting smell of some kind, and I wondered if perhaps a mouse had died behind a wall. Taking my seat before the typewriter again, I resolved to send over my housekeeper again tomorrow night to ferret out the source.
I picked up the sheet on the top of the stack, but before I could begin to read Christian stopped me.
"Please Uncle, don't read it yet. Let me get it published first, you can have the first copy I promise." He covered his mouth with one hand and coughed lightly.
"Of course lad, I'll wait. But don't take too long," I gestured to the considerable stack of paper, "I missed most of this story and I'm eager for the details." My smile was gentle even though I knew it could never convey the sorrow I felt for him.
He answered with a faintly sardonic smile, "Yes, you missed everything."
Any one who didn't know Christian as well as I would have missed the accusatory tone in his words. I stood and picked up the chair, bringing it over to the side of his bed and seating myself again, crossing my legs and meeting his glare with one of my own. "Christian I can do a great many things. I can raise a boy to be true to himself and his dreams. I give a poverty stricken girl a chance at a better life. I can bring them together so they can make each other's dreams come true. I can and did all these things, but I can't stop death – even I am incapable of that."
Ever surprising me, Christian had picked up on a line in my speech I hadn't expected him to. He sat up straighter and his mouth turned down in a hard thin line. "Give her a better…bring us together…You manipulated us?" His changeable eyes had turned that storm-gray color that promised harsh judgment.
"That's not the word I would use but – "
"Oh no! Not the great Lord McClellan! He would never interfere in the life of his nephew so that he would fall in love with a whore! He would never take some poor girl off the streets and turn her into a courtesan – the perfect some one to appeal to said nephew!" On more than one occasion I had been witness to Christian exercising his temper, but I had never been its focus. Now he had climbed to his feet, his hands clenched into fists and his teeth bared in a full-blown fit of rage such as his father had indulged in frequently. Fortunately, I had a great deal of experience in taking the wind out of the sails of said rage when his father exercised it, I had no trouble doing the same with Christian.
"You would not have looked at her twice if she had been some nice respectable girl."
"That's ridiculous! I – " He froze with his mouth open and his face went quite blank. Then he turned eyes both sheepish and wounded to me. "It appears you know me quite well Uncle."
I waved a hand dismissively, "Think nothing of it. Besides I did consider any number of…shall we say regular girls for you, but when you told me you wanted to come to Paris, I saw a chance for real happiness for Satine, and a way out of her life. I love both my children." My heart twisted inside my chest. Christian was not the only one who grieved, not only had all my plans been laid to waste, but my darling girl hated me now. I laid a hand on his shoulder, "I am sorry lad, if I had know about her illness, perhaps I could have – "
"- No Uncle! I shouldn't have gotten angry at you, you couldn't have predicted she would…" He broke off, gulping a breath of air and his face reddened while tears started to fill his eyes. "…get sick." A sob leaked out between his lips that turned into a cough. My hand remained on his shoulder, so I shifted my grip to his upper arm and held him as whole body shook in a sudden coughing fit. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he shoved the heel of his free hand against his mouth while he gripped the arm I used to hold him up. Lowering him back to the foot of the bed I hastily refilled his teacup and held it out as the coughing subsided. He reached gratefully for the cup as he lowered the handkerchief he'd used while I got the tea.
We both froze.
Decorating the surface of the new, clean handkerchief were several spots of bright red blood. And suddenly I knew where that faint odor of rot was coming from, and why I'd not noticed it before. My eyes went back to his face and noted the trickle of blood sitting in the corner of his mouth.
His eyes were very young and terribly apologetic, "I - I'm sorry Uncle."