Hey all! As usual, much love to my reviewers. What would I do withoutyou guys.

I am going to say that :clears throat nervously: we will have a fast update.

I better have one. I now have absolutely no reason not to, and yet I have before, so you are now allowed to flay me if I don't update quickly.


Christine

"That color is simply ravishing on you! I can never wear anything pastel—it makes me look dreadfully washed out—but you could probably wear a sack and still look divine. I declare, I would give my best diamond necklace to have your complexion!" Stacy exclaimed as she advanced toward me, taking my hand in greeting, a vision in lavender and purple silk. "Do have a seat. We have so much talk about! I have simply been dying to have a chat with you."

I sat down, feeling quite bemused, but not because of Stacy's words. No, I was used to effusive society ladies, but their words were usually laced with spite not kindness.

Raoul, according the dictates of propriety, waited for Stacy to seat herself before following suit.

Once we were all suitably ensconced, I leaned forward, saying "I am curious to hear exactly what you know Stacy."

She laughed, "Those of the words of a woman who has much to tell."

Raoul spoke up then, "I've told her all I know Christine, she may chatter away but she can hold a confidence like none other."

Stacy turned to look at Raoul with an affectionate glance, "So I chatter do I?"

"I love your chattering," he replied lazily, "I enjoy watching you talk circles around every person you meet."

"Such a backhanded compliment sir! And to think some ladies find you charming. Well enough of that. Christine, Raoul told me of your most recent encounter and there are several points that have confused us exceedingly. If you care to tell us, we would love to hear the story behind that charming little rendezvous."

I took pause at her words, I had known they would be curious, but I had not yet decided how much to reveal. They already knew I had a child, that neither Erik nor Raoul was the father, and that I had been going by a different name. I hesitated, then launched into an apology.

"First I must ask you to forgive us. It should never have happened, and I am just as much to blame as . . ." I hesitated unsure of whether to give his first or last name. Should I reveal his last name?

"Erik? For that is what you called him, oh yes Raoul was very detailed. I insisted! And there is no need to apologize, Raoul can afford to be roughed up every now and again, it will keep him from getting indolent. Not to mention the fact that it gave me more excitement than I have had in years."

"Well . . , I hardly know how to start."

"There is one thing I particularly wanted to know first, if you don't mind."

"I make you no promises," I said with a little laugh, "but go ahead and ask."

"Raoul told me that the other man, not Erik, called you by a name other than Christine. But the first name escaped him, the last was, like your daughter's, Carpentier. He knew that Carpentier was a married name, but he was surprised to hear you had changed your Christian name." She stopped, looking at me expectantly.

Well, they knew I had come from London, and very little enquiry would uncover the only Carpentiers living in London were myself and a little old lady, the name was French and hardly common in England.

"He called me Madame Elise Carpentier," I divulged.

"Madame Elise Carpentier," Stacy repeated slowly, with a thoughtful frown, "I know I have heard . . .Oh!" she exclaimed with a little crow of delight, "Why I know who you are! That explains ever so much."

I could see Raoul's confusion, and he murmured, "Well perhaps someone would like to inform me . . ."

Stacy gave me mischievous look, and leaned forward saying conspiratorially, "Shall we tell him, or keep him in suspense?"

This was a moment I had anticipated with some dread; I knew that telling Raoul the whole could only cause him pain. I was sure he would think he should have done something.

Fortunately, at that moment, the maid entered bearing the tea tray, and I was allowed some time to think as Stacy poured the tea. After she had dismissed the maid, I started to speak again.

"I think we had better tell him," I said, I was tired of hiding secrets and now that I had told Erik it seemed to much easier to tell another. Despite the gap in years I found I trusted Raoul, and, surprisingly enough, Stacy as well. Raoul had been mature enough to let me go in the past and I felt like he would respect my wishes now. "I will start at the beginning, but first Raoul, let me say that you should not feel responsible for anything that happened, I made my own choices and you were only respecting my wishes."

With those words I launched into my story, I told the truth yet I must admit I omitted as many of the lurid details as possible. The bare bones of my story were more than enough to burden them with.

When I was finished, I leaned back with a little sigh saying, "So now you see us here is Paris, making plans for the future."

Stacy leaned forward immediately, and took my hand saying, "Oh you poor dear! I admire you now more than ever, and I would love to meet Erik."

I would probably have resented those words coming from most people, but Stacy seemed to possess an ability to make you feel as if she had endured every moment of every trial with you. As to meeting Erik, I was almost sure he would not want to, and I replied hesitantly, "Well . . ."

She sensed my doubt, for immediately she said, "Oh don't worry about it, and if you need any help don't hesitate to ask. Isn't that right dear?"

Raoul had been staring off into space in a rather abstracted manner, but upon Stacy's words he started a little, and replied, "What? Oh yes, we are more than happy to be of help. In fact I would appreciate it if you would allow me to help you Christine. What arrangements do you need to make? If you are looking find a new house, to hire staff, or any other multitude of things I would like to offer you the services of my man of business and my secretary. They are more than used to making such arrangements for my family."

My immediate reaction was one of relief, but it was brief; Erik had not appreciated the suggestion that we ask Raoul for advice and was certain that he would not want to be beholden to Raoul.

"Thank you so much for the offer Raoul, but I will need to discuss this with Erik. If we decide to accept your help I'll contact you." I did not say that Erik would be the one to object, but I could tell he sensed it, and I saw uncertainty in his eyes.

"Christine," he started slowly, "Are you absolutely sure . . ."

I interrupted him before he could go any further, knowingly full well he was going to express doubts about Erik, "I am more sure of this than any other decision I have ever made."

He leaned back, and although I knew he was not entirely convinced, said, "Just know that you can always come to me for help."

I renewed my thanks, and then turned to glance at the Stacy, who had been surprisingly silent during this exchange and saw that she was regarding us with the air of an approving monarch. I felt a gurgle of laughter rise in my throat at the thought, and with my amusement the serious air in the room changed. We chatted on various subjects before I departed for the house, eager to see my family.


Christine

I awoke like clockwork as I did every morning, and as I gained consciousness, a frown came to my lips as I remembered the night before.

I had lured Erik to my bedroom last night, yes lured, for there really no other way to say it. I had sensed in him a growing uncertainty, almost as if now that he had begun he was unsure how to continue. I wanted to quickly vanquish such feelings on his part.

It had not taken long for any remnant of hesitation to leave Erik and all had been going very well when we had heard Belle's cry.

Knowing she was probably suffering from a nightmare I had gone quickly to comfort her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep again. When I had returned Erik was gone, and this is the point at which I had not known what to do. I had thought about seeking him out, but I also wished to respect his distance. I sighed. This would be easier when we were settled somewhere.


Erik

I moodily paced in my room, feeling unbearably confined, I wanted to vent my frustration somehow, to do something unleash my restlessness. My eye glanced over my violin case, the only instrument available to me, but I rejected it. I did not feel like broadcasting my feelings for the entire house to hear.

I was frustrated, mostly by myself. I didn't know what had overcome me last night, I felt like such a coward. For some reason when Christine had left the room to comfort Belle I had been overwhelmed by my doubts. I didn't know how long it would take to soothe Belle and I had felt awkward standing around waiting for her to return. I felt even more awkward about getting into her bed. I knew it was usual, but my mind had balked at the idea. I had never shared a bed with anyone, and I couldn't bring myself to calmly climb in between the sheets like I had done so every night for years. So I had left.

Damn coward that I was.

I could tell that Christine had been puzzled by my attitude this morning, and I, conscious of a slight strain between us, had been unable to deal with it. I was simply unused to living with people.

I dragged a hand through my hair, I would just have to learn, I wanted to learn.

I could hear their voices even now, they were about to embark on a shopping trip to replenish Belle's wardrobe. Evidently all her clothes were too small for her. I hadn't noticed.

I eyed my violin, in just a few minutes I thought, I will have the house to myself and then I will play until my fingers are sore.

I heard a tentative knock at the door, and I strode forward and opened it revealing Christine. She was dressed in what was considered, I had learned by now, going out clothing. She looked beautiful in anything to me.

Her eyes raised to mine, a curious look in them, "I just wanted to tell you we're going now. We'll be back in time to make supper, don't worry."

"I hope you enjoy yourselves," I replied.

"Well, I'll see you later then," she said, seemed to hesitate for a few moments before turning and leaving.

As I closed the door I felt vaguely dissatisfied and then I realized she had not kissed me goodbye. In just a couple of days I had grown used to the sign of affection. She had, however waited for a moment. Had she wanted me to kiss her? She probably had. I groaned. This business was so damned difficult.

Downstairs I heard the door close, then silence, and I turned with relief to my violin case. I extracted the intrument gently and was prepared to start playing when I heard a knock on the door.

Irritated, I placed the violin on the bed, before starting downstairs, muttering curses the entire way. Before I could reach the door, a louder knock sounded, increasing my irritation.

As I result when I opened the door, I probably had a ferocious glare plastered on my face, sadly it met no audience. I stared out at the empty air, before the words, "Excuse me mister," met my ears.

I looked down to see a small, grimy boy standing on the steps, offering me a sealed note.

"Yes?" I said, a little more curtly than I had intended, but my tone didn't seem to affect the boy.

"I'm supposed to deliver this here letter,"

"Thank you," I said, taking the letter from him.

"A little something for my trouble?" the boy whined plaintively.

I eyed him darkly; no doubt he had already been paid to deliver it, but I went to the hall table and withdrew a few coins. As I was walking back to the boy I saw that it was directed to Christine in a bold slashing script.

Who was writing to Christine in Paris? This handwriting looked like it belonged to a man.

When I reached the boy, I held the money back from him a moment, "May I ask who gave you this?"

"I don't know his name mister."

So it was a him. "What does he look like then?"

"He was a gentleman, had long yellow hair, he did."

I frowned, pressing the money into the boy's hand. That sounded suspiciously like Raoul.

I shut the door after the boy and then stood there for a moment, staring at the note in my hand, I wanted to read it very badly. It was probably nothing, just a little polite note about tea the day before. I was being foolish.

I laid the note on the hall table and resolutely turned to walk up the stairs.

I made it about half way up the stairs, when I suddenly turned and walked down again. I took up the letter and retreated to the parlor where I held the letter up to the light. I stared at it, turning it this way and that, making out a few innocuous phrases. Then I caught the word "love."

I growled, he had no right even thinking those four letters in any way connected to Christine.

I had to see it.

Abruptly I broke the seal, walking away from the light.

Dearest Christine,

She wasn't his dearest anything, I thought furiously.

I am eager to see you again. It was so good to talk with you today. You have no idea how much I enjoyed our conversation. As always, I love just being able to hear the sound of your voice. You have bloomed into a beautiful woman. When can I see you again? I impatiently await your reply.

Yours Forever,

Raoul

By the end of the short missive I was breathing heavily. She had seen him today? She couldn't have . . . but then I remembered. She had gone out to the market this morning alone.

I groaned. I could feel the familiar fatal anger creeping over me, and I pressed it back. I had to think rationally. Christine wouldn't betray me in this manner. She has before. It must be for some other reason.

I cast my mind about wildly. Then I recalled that Christine had wanted to ask Raoul for advice. Perhaps that's exactly what she had done, behind my back, and the insolent boy had tried to press his advantage.

Even this scenario was not good. But I could not, would not believe that Christine was betraying my love. She had given herself to me, dammit, had caressed my naked cheek. She's probably performed perversions before. No, she couldn't do that, she came back to me before, she wanted me now. I had to believe it.

Even as I thought on the other scenario my anger grew. I felt all my old hate for that boy surface, and I was deeply wounded that Christine should consider me unfit to arrange our business and should instead turn to him.

I had thought we were done with lies and deceit. And yet you opened her letter. What should I do? Should I confront her? No, I would wait, not long, to see if she said anything and then if she didn't I would confront her.

Perhaps she would yet tell me about, I thought, attempting to be calm.

I looked down at the letter my hand then, disturbed to see that I had crumpled it into a tight wad. How would I explain this to Christine? There was no need for her to see it anyway, I thought darkly, she could do without the boy's honeyed words.

I strode to the kitchen, lighted a candle, and held the paper up to the flame, watching it crumple to ashes.

As it burned, I contemplated the night ahead of me, we had planned a delightful little family outing. Christine had persuaded me just that this morning to go on a trip to the Eiffel Tower, in order to look over Paris at night.

I had only assented because I knew Belle would enjoy it. Now it seemed she would be the only one enjoying her night.


Erik

Belle was incredibly excited to be going out at night, and as she prattled on in the carriage I focused on her. If I looked at Christine, talked to her, I knew I would be driven out my mind. Either I would say something I would regret, or my own thoughts would overwhelm me.

I carefully informed Belle about the Eiffel Tower. She could not be allowed to mistake the monstrosity for true art.

"Now listen Belle, the Eiffel Tower's design was not chosen by men of good taste. Many architects were against it being built. Do you know what an architect is?"

She wrinkled her brow in thought, "Arki-tect . . . no, I don't know. What is it?"

"A person who knows how to build things, such as houses, railway stations, theatres and all sorts of other buildings. Not only do they know how to make buildings, but they know how make beautiful buildings. Sometimes a man thinks he is an architect and builds a building that is very ugly, but he is not a real architect. Mr. Eiffel is like that. Many real architects did not want him to build the tower; a good friend of mine was one of those people. Unfortunately Belle you will learn that the world is not made up of smart people; many times the vast majority of people are very foolish because they lack understanding. So the tower was built after all. We can go look at it as an example of what happens when foolish people make decisions."

Belle nodded her little, her eyes wide. Clearly the child was intelligent.

At that moment we rolled to a stop, and Belle scrambled out of the carriage before me. As a gentleman I waited for all the ladies to disembark before climbing out. The moment my feet hit the ground I heard Belle exclaim in an awestruck voice:

"Oh! How beautiful!"

I heard Christine's low chuckle, and instinctively turned look at her, my eyes full of fellow laughter, "Just wait until she sees it during daylight," I muttered, "She won't think it so pretty then."

At Christine's answering laugh I was suddenly reminded that this woman was hiding something from me and abruptly turned away, walking to catch up with Belle.


Christine

I watched Erik walk away, the dancing colored lights of the Eiffel Tower a blur before my eyes. Why was he suddenly acting like this? He had been ignoring me all day, ever since I returned from the shopping expedition, or had it begun earlier in the day? Or even the night before? I bit my lip. Just now we had been laughing together when Erik's eyes had abruptly grown cold, his features hard. I didn't understand.

"Come Christine, we need to catch up with them." Antoinette said, interrupting my thoughts, and as we walked together I wondered what she thought, but I was not ready to ask her. Perhaps I was just imagining the trouble.

However, as the night progressed, Erik's coldness did not abate. He barely spoke two words to me, and when he did his tone was curt, his face hard.

He was a perfect companion to Belle, talking animatedly with her as we rode the delightfully novel elevator to the top of the tower and gazed out on Paris. The lights of the city held no pleasure for me however, as I worried about Erik's behavior. I made small talk with Antoinette and watched the two of them, my puzzled gaze growing increasingly envious.

It was idiotic of me, but I found myself jealous of my own small daughter.

This would never do.

Yet I had not found a way to solve my problem. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.


Max

I was drunk. I had not had alcohol in a week, but I was drunk—drunk with my lust for revenge.

I had been watching them, that pair that had brought about my brother's death.

I was prepared to spare Elise, or rather Christine; it had not been her hand that strangled the life out of Reggie. However, I didn't mind wreaking emotional havoc upon her.

I chuckled mirthlessly to myself. It was ridiculous really. My plan could never have worked if the man, Erik, had not been too jealous to give Christine the letter. After seeing his mad jealousy towards the other man, whom I had discovered to be the Vicomte de Chagny, I had known he would not do so.

My plan was set in motion and my blood was filled with intoxication as I thought about my future satisfaction.


With this site's new format I was able to use some nifty spacers . . . or maybe I just didn't notice them before. hums R&R