You guys are awesome! Cry, cry, this will be a very dramatic chapter.
Ch.7: Delight
Raoul nearly threw himself off the boat when the uppermost spires of Paris came into view. Other sailors were rushing around, shaving and fighting over tiny bottles of cologne, while the Vicomte eagerly awaited the falling of the gangplank on Parisian docks. The expedition had been cut short, for the captain had found that their rations were too little and they would starve if they did not hotfoot it back to France. That was the kind of thing the young man had been praying for.
When the side of the ship banged against the wooden docks, all jumped and scrambled to get their trunks prepared for disembarking. The Morse code message had obviously caused a stir in the city, a multitude of humanity cheering their arrival. Raoul pushed his way off the boat, fighting the urge to kiss the dock in relief. The other sailors ran right into the arms of beloved families and sweethearts. Nobody came from the crowd for him.
Ina frenzy of excitement, he began to run back home, for Christine would surely be waiting for him. She must not have gotten the message, he concluded. Not caring about the slamming sensation of his heart against his ribs, the Vicomte continued to sprint the fifteen miles to the flat, where is beloved bride waited for him.
Amongst the dream she was enjoying, Christine heard the frantic yells of a man echoing in her head. Suddenly, she was roughly shaken awake, the terrified face of Erik sliding into focus. " Christine! You must wake up! Raoul is coming!" His voice was scared, sounding strange to all in the room. Madame Giry was packing her suitcase messily, while Meg cleaned up any trace of their ever being there. The woman sat bolt up, her stomach falling into her knees. " Oh, my God! He's not supposed to be back until next year, oh, I am dead."
" No you're not!" Erik said in a low voice, brushing crumbs from his shirt. He looked at her, and then cast his eyes on Delight's cradle. "Oh, no, it's too early. She'll die." Christine moaned. " She's only two weeks old!" Madame Giry picked up the slumbering child and placed her in Christine's arms. The baby gave a small twitch, evoking a smile on Christine's snow-white face. Madame Giry put her hand on her shoulder, saying, " Don't worry, my dear. I will not let a thing happen to her. If she so much as catches a cold, Erik will pay dearly at my hands."
The masked man held back a snort. He doubted that Madame Giry could hurt him, as frightening as she could be. " She is right. I won't let anything happen to her, I promise you." Meg came back into the room, panting. " I-I hate to spoil this moment, but we are running out of time! Raoul will be back any moment!" Everybody exchanged glances, and then all gazed fell on the baby. With a long sigh, Christine handed the child to Erik, who quickly wrapped her in a blanket.
" You can come visit her any minute of the day, you know." He murmured, stroking Delight's black fuzz. " We must go. Is everything cleaned up? Is Christine in any state to greet him? Good." Madame Giry gathered up the bags, swinging open the front door. All three fleeing individuals looked back with worry upon Christine. She had tears in her eyes, but looked well enough. With the baby between them, Erik gave her a gentle hug and strode through the door. The others gave Christine well wishes and departed after the phantom. A rickety carriage sat in front of the flat, a mangy-looking horse in the harness. He wrapped his black cloak about him, and then hopped in the driver's seat, Delight nestled in Meg's arms. With a final parting glance, the quartet clattered off into the fog of the morning.
The soon to be Vicomtess clutched her robs around her, then hurried back inside to prepare for her fiancée's arrival. The whole time she was dressing, huge, racking sobs enveloped her until she fell to the floor in a miserable heap. She had never imagined giving up a child would be this hard, mother's instinct worsening the situation.
After she was out of tears, she stood up and inspected herself in the mirror. She had managed to put on a gorgeous peacock colored dress and a pair of silken slippers. Christine frantically fixed up her golden curls, wiping tears from the tresses. Her face stared back in the mirror. The girl stared in horror.
Her face was red and slick with tears, her azure eyes puffy with misery. She ran to the washbasin, mopping herself up. The end results were much more pleasing. As she made the bed, the girl tried her hardest to keep her sobs curbed. She could not so much as act sad in front of Raoul. He could smell sadness like a bloodhound.
As he tore threw the threshold, the Vicomte threw his bag to the floor, chuckling with mirth at the familiar sights of home. " Christine! Christine! I'm home!" He ran about the house like a terrier searching for its owner. He found her in the parlor, fiddling with her diamond earbobs. Without a word, he threw his arms around the woman, both embracing the other in a rib-cracking hug. He stroked her hair, looking into her eyes. Something was not right.
" Christine, are you alright? You look positively petrified. Have you been crying?" She tried to look away, but her caught her. " I-I was…crying, for I missed you terribly and was so glad to hear of your return." The flimsy lie seemed to fly with him. She tried to hold back a fresh wave of sadness as her future husband told her his meaningless stories of the north. This was the way it had to be now. I might as well get used to it was what Christine told herself every minute, anticipating the time when she could see her baby again.