I Bid You Welcome: A Stranger at the Door

I stood there atop a knoll overlooking Marie Perrault's quaint little house, cloaked in darkness. I had not trusted Etienne's directions and did not wish to walk into some sort of trap, and so I waited patiently outside from a distance while I surveyed the area. I was blessed with excellent eyesight, particularly in the dark, and so I made sure to explore every possible option and escape route. I dismounted and carefully made my way to the garden fence, which was worn by years of weather and stood surrounded by tall grass. From my concealed position I peered through the windows to see who exactly I was to be dealing with this fine October evening.

Through one of the windows I saw Etienne seated comfortably in a chair, casually browsing what appeared to be a newspaper. How calm he seemed in the quiet moments before a potential tempest. How positively stupid, I thought, to exhibit such overconfidence in this grand opus he had constructed. It annoyed me to no end to see him waiting without a care in the world. If he was at all nervous, he was a genuinely fine actor, worthy of the Paris stage. I shook my head and moved to gain a better look around the room.

I caught a glimpse of a dress, and for a moment I lost all breath. What is her? I hesitated to move, fearing I may find Madeline. Despite all the thought and preparation I had done for this trip, it seemed as though I was still not quite prepared to see her again. But to my immediate relief, the plain skirt did not belong to my mother. I found Marie Perrault sitting across from Etienne. She was as I had always remembered her – plain and nervous, fearing the meeting to come. But even in her plainness, she was one of the very few in my childhood that treated me with human dignity, and for that she had nothing but my utmost respect.

Mademoiselle Perrault sat there now, uneasily fingering the folds of her skirt, looking anxiously from Etienne to the door, completely unaware that outside a ruthless murderer was carefully watching like a wolf stalks its prey. I hung my head for a moment with that last passing thought. I was more like a wolf than I had even cared to note. I was a wolf in sheep's clothing. I was a murderer parading as a gentleman, and no matter what I did or how I conducted myself, there was no denying that fact.

I remained there for several minutes, crouched silently in the dark, staring endlessly off into nothing. What on earth was I doing? I should not have come, I should not be sitting outside this house now and I should stay any longer. My silent cover was ruined when Allemande, who was infinitely and inconveniently impatient, nickered in protest of my absence. I waived a hand at him and begged him quietly not to open his big mouth. But Alle, the problematic child that he often was, pawed and whinnied.

Too late.

I turned to growl at him and as I did so caught something in the corner of my eye that made me stop dead. Per invitation there were only two women at this ridiculous little social gathering, and I had already identified one as Marie Perrault. The withered creature before me could have been no other than my mother.

I was shocked. I sat there now staring through the window on the one sight I had never wanted to see again. There she was, sitting on the edge of her chair with her eyes fixed upon the floor. Her silver hair was pulled up in a neat bun, but I suspect due to the shaking in Madeline's hands, it was most likely Marie's work, not her own. She wore an older dress that like its owner, had seen better days.

My eyes could not move from the sight of my mother's face, much like the eyes of those who gaze upon my ghastly face. Age had not been kind to this woman. She was once stunning – a stark contrast to what I looked like. Now, she was like a wilted flower, her face wrinkled and worn, mouth drawn tight. She appeared much frailer than I had remembered, though that is to be expected with the number of years between us. I leaned forward and grasped the fence with my right hand and I continued my stare as minutes passed me by.

My focus was abruptly drawn away when I felt Mademoiselle Perrault's gaze fixed upon the window. She stared out into the night with an expression of horror, and suddenly her hand flew to her mouth. Damn it! I thought as I immediately fell flat amongst the grass and beat the ground with my palm. She must have seen the mask – my white mask that stood out like a beacon in the dark night. Damn, damn damn! Erik, you unspeakable fool, I growled to myself. I heard voices from inside and carefully peered through the blades of grass to see Etienne standing by the window. This was not a pleasant beginning to the night's festivities.

When no one presented themselves outside, I carefully made my way back up the hill toward Allemande, thankful for the darkness that covered my tracks. I reached up with my gloved hand and gently stroked the gelding's long neck as he turned his head into my chest. "What am I doing…" I whispered, running my left hand over his ebony ears. I looked back over my right shoulder to the house and the warm light shining through the windows. I felt my breathing become heavier as I thought of what to do. I could leave immediately and they would be none the wiser, but it would accomplish nothing. If I left at that moment my entire trip would have been for absolutely nothing, much like my flight from my home as a young child.

With one swift motion my right hand flew up, removed my felt hat and dashed it across my knee as I gritted my teeth. "Damn it all to hell," I muttered as I replaced my hat and gazed once more down on the house. I made up my mind. I was going down there. I took one deep breath as I moved toward the saddle. Allemande's gaze followed me.

"What are you looking at?" I demanded. He simply sneezed and shook his head. I nodded. "That's what I thought." Allemande snorted again and I allowed a small chuckle to escape my lips.

"Well my friend, this will either be a glorious beginning or the brilliant last hurrah," I declared as I mounted and gathered the reins. Like a distinguished commanding officer, I looked down once more upon my destination calmly before issuing the final charge. I asked Allemande into a canter and we moved off swiftly together. We made our way down the quiet dirt road and gracefully came to a halt at the front gate. I dismounted and decided against tethering Alle to the front fence. I stroked his face before turning and approaching the door. Hesitantly my hand knocked on the door, and as I waited in the shadows with my heart racing, I looked down and managed to brush off the stray pieces of grass from my waistcoat. Lord knows that would have been incriminating if they opened the door to fine me removing grass from -

"Good evening, Erik." I looked up to find Etienne standing in the doorway, gazing upon me with uncertain eyes. For a moment I was dumbstruck. I removed my hat and gave a stiff, subtle bow. The years under my mother's roof had not left me.

"Dr. Barye," I greeted, a formal tone in my voice. The open door blocked my view into the parlor where I was sure Marie and my mother were waiting. I looked back to Etienne.

"Please, won't you come in?" he asked, moving to allow me room to pass by. I hesitated.

"I was rather hoping to settle the horse before I came in, if that is agreeable to you."

He nodded. "Of course, I shall show you the way." And with that, I made my way back to Allemande, thankful for the momentary reprieve. As I moved toward the small stable, I was dimly aware of Marie standing in the doorway, watching.

"I should think that he'd be quite comfortable in here for the time being," Etienne noted as he motioned toward the waiting, freshly bedded stall. I led Alle in and removed his bridle while Etienne fetched hay for tired beast. I went about loosening the girth, and as I did so felt Etienne's curious stare upon me. "Would you care to unsaddle him, seeing that you will not be departing immediately?" he asked. The air about him seemed uneasy as his stoic façade began to wear. I glanced over to him and then continued my work.

"So long as there is food in front of him, he will be more than content," I declared, the tone of my voice straight as an arrow. I finished and patted my horse on the shoulder. I was only delaying the inevitable.

Sensing my hesitation, Etienne moved toward the door. "Perhaps we had better get inside," he suggested. "Mademoiselle Perrault is nearly finished preparing a lovely meal for you."

Please. No one ever prepares anything for me, I thought to myself. I looked up to Etienne and slowly nodded, my stomach sinking with every passing second. I slowly approached the door and removed my hat as I stepped inside. I could feel the color draining from my face and my head become increasingly cloudy as I entered. Etienne offered to take my hat and cloak and I reluctantly gave them over, feeling horribly exposed despite my mask and fine evening suit. My throat began to tighten and while I wanted to blame my tie, I knew that was not the cause. I looked around briefly as Etienne returned, looking me over while he came to stand at my side. I folded my hands behind my back and he did the same.

We stood together in a stiff silence for what seemed like an eternity, and I wondered if he could hear my heart bounding out of my chest. Etienne shifted and looked down briefly. "Marie and your mother are waiting." I simply nodded, and he stepped past me into the parlor. Those last ten feet were the hardest I have ever walked. Unconsciously I ran a hand over my tie to ensure it was straight after my escapades outside the garden, smoothed my dark hair, and gave one final tug on my waistcoat. My stomach was a lead weight as I returned my left hand behind my back and turned the corner.

I looked up to see Marie Perrault standing no more than ten feet from me, white as I probably was. Behind her stood Etienne, with Madeline on his arm. Marie's hand fluttered by her side as if it were to fly to her mouth once more, but she kept it down in an obvious show of restraint. I smiled ever so briefly as I looked past her to my mother, who was leaning heavily on Etienne for support. I turned back to Marie.

"Good evening Mademoiselle Perrault," I began formally. "I thank you for your hospitality and hope I find you well."

As soon as I said that she seemed to lose all composure. I seem to have that unique effect on women.

After a moment she looked back up to me her hand pressed against her breast as if it were her only salvation. She gave a nervous smile like she had done so many years ago and stepped out from behind her chair. "Erik…how wonderful it is to find you well," she said with a wavering voice. To my astonishment she approached and took my hand in hers for a moment before moving off into the kitchen, her hand now covering her mouth to suppress desperate sobs.

I turned to watch her for a moment, but I felt my mother's stare from across the room. I returned my attention to the parlor and found her eyes fixed upon me, staring me up and down. She was silently examining me while I grew increasingly tense under her glare. While her face had changed over the years, her eyes surely had not, and they still held their intense quality about them. Finally she murmured, "Erik…"

My mother then collapsed against Etienne, who promptly lowered her back onto the sofa. I moved quickly toward them and stopped a yard away, unsure of what to do. I dared not touch her. I could only stand there and watch, helpless. She appeared so fragile then in Etienne's arms that my hate for her had begun to slink away like a snake in the grass. She held out one unsteady hand to me, and I hesitated. A lone tear streamed across her pale cheek as she whispered humbly, "I'm so very sorry."

Etienne glanced up at me to witness my next move. I continued to stand there, staring at her hand, which was searching for my forgiveness. Part of me resisted vehemently, reminding me that there was no possibility of her undoing the wrong she had committed in this lifetime. That part of me wanted her to burn in Hell for the abuse I took and the years I spent locked away from the world like the animal she thought me to be.

However, as I looked away to think, I remembered the wrong that I, in turn, had done to her. I had manipulated and twisted her mind as well, and very easily cost her a happy life after my departure.

I reached out and carefully – ever so carefully – took her hand in mine and moved closer. She closed her eyes at my touch. She had always moved away from my touch, but that night it was different. Almost desperately she moved my thin hand and touched it to her cheek. I grimaced at this sudden movement, as I was well conditioned as a child to despise her touch. But before she could look up and see the unpleasant expression on the visible part of my face, I wiped it clean and begged my heart to stop pounding. It was all quite excruciating.

I glanced over to Etienne, who was watching quite intently. He motioned for me to sit down, and with my right hand still held captive, I sat down on the very edge of the sofa beside my mother. The three of us remained there for a few moments, my mother's quiet sobs breaking the intense silence. I sighed and looked about the room. What in God's creation was I going to say to her? In reality I had nothing to say and I knew it. I felt incredibly vulnerable sitting there, and suddenly it became very hot under the mask.

Madeline lowered our hands from her cheek and shifted in her seat to look at me. Her eyes seemed to want to avoid the white leather sitting atop my face, but of course that was quite impossible. She came to stare at it with a sort of pity or guilt – I could not quite tell which. I breathed uneasily and looked up at her, allowing our eyes to finally meet. I glanced past her to Etienne, who had turned his eyes to the floor. We both knew very well what she was about to unleash upon me.

"It is my fault, all my fault," Madeline began quietly, eyes still fixed on my mask. "I was so very wrong all those years ago to force that upon you." She spoke with such guilt and contempt for the thing it nearly made me ill. She reached toward the mask slowly. "A horrid thing it is…"

She gasped as I deftly grasped her wrist away from the mask. "Please do not speak of it again," I demanded. Each second on the subject made me more uncomfortable. She had forced me behind this horrid punishment, but sitting there listening to her speak in such a manner nearly sent me over the edge. Etienne now was watching, wary of my actions. Stared back at him, my mood growing darker.

Madeline's expression faded as she swallowed hard and looked at her wrist in my grasp. "I know not what to say to you after all these years, Erik."

My eyes grew cold. "I suppose that makes two of us," I declared coolly as I released her from my hold and moved to get up. She clutched my sleeve with a surprising force and my head swung around to find her looking up at me desperately. This was all too much. I shook my head and began to step away.

"No! Please don't…go," she said as her grasp on my arm tightened. I tilted my head back and waited as patiently as I could while she gathered the courage to speak. "I've rehearsed what I wanted to say to you for years, but now I cannot manage to think." She paused. "You look well. Such a gentleman, my son."

I scoffed then wrenched my arm from her strangle hold. I walked to the window with my hands in fists behind my back. Be calm and think, I commanded myself. "Your son…" I mocked. I then swung around on her, my control on my temper quickly slipping through my fingers. "Do tell me, Mother, how things have changed that you know consider me to be your son."

How easily I forget where my temper comes from. As soon as I said those words, Madeline's voice had found new resolve, but to my relief did not exhibit the same loathing tone that it once possessed for me. She stood and said, "Everything has changed Erik, I only wish you knew." She then sat back down and folded her hands in her lap. "I was stupid back then. I did not know what I was doing to you. You deserved someone worthy of your God-granted talent, not the ignorant and oppressive fool I was." She stared at me as she said this – not the mask as so many times before, but at me. I found my rage slowly dissipating and forced myself to remember that the torture of so many years ago was mutual. My eyes fell to the floor and when I spoke, my voice was quiet.

"So now I am a 'God-granted gift' and not some monstrous child of Satan?" I demanded as the words I spoke cut through my own soul – or rather what was left of it.

I looked back up to see her wince at my words. It seemed as if the word "monster" was more contemptuous in her ears than it was even in mine. Another tear fell across her cheek. "You always were," she said. "I was too blind to see it. I was a stupid child then, Erik." She then began to cry. "A stupid child! I could not look past your face to see you. And I have spent the last 25 years trying to explain why. I only discovered that I cannot, and can now only ask for you to let me be part of your life."

I hung my head and closed my eyes. You do not want to be a part of my life

It was at this moment that Marie declared dinner prepared and re-entered the room. She stopped at the doorway to find me standing one end of the room and Madeline, crying, on the other. I shook my head briefly, took a breath, and looked up to Marie with a twitch of a smile that I doubted she would be able to identify on my features. I looked back over my shoulder to where my mother and Etienne were seated and nodded. "I would be delighted to join you, Mademoiselle," I said calmly, allowing my voice to return to its normal soft quality.

"Please, do call me Marie, Erik dear," Marie implored politely. I could not help but resist a faint smile. She had always called me that, no matter how awful I was to her.

Etienne nodded in my direction and assisted Madeline into the dining room as I followed. I assisted Marie to her chair and then took my own. It would be an eventful evening indeed.

Author's Notes:

Thank you to those that reviewed! Please, please, please do let me know what you think of this chapter, the characters, plot, etc. I would very much love to hear anything you have to say!

Thornwitch – my thoughts exactly! I always was disappointed that Erik and Madeline were never to meet. I wanted desperately to see some Erik/Madeline dialog, for I found that to be very intriguing, and quite possibly entertaining if given a long-term relationship (because bickering with one's parent is always worth a laugh or two at one point or another). Madeline as the "creepy old cat lady" – COMPLETELY PERFECT! That is a wonderful fic idea if I've ever heard one, and completely applicable to the character. I can picture that scenario.

Stay tuned everyone, and please review!