All Nice and Warm

"Marguerite, my dear, you seem very distracted this evening. Are you not enjoying my company?"

Meg looked up from the table to meet Jean's concerned green eyes. "Of course…I suppose I am a little preoccupied with thoughts of the ballet sequences in La Périchole." It was a lie, of course. She was preoccupied with thoughts of Raoul. "Forgive me."

Jean smiled indulgently. "I could be persuaded to forgive you…if you would agree to perform at my opera house."

Meg shook her head in frustrated amusement. Would he never relent? "Jean…I have told you …I am very happy at le Soliel. It would not feel right to abandon Monsieur LeCleur after all his kindness."

"Your loyalty truly is a commendable thing, my dear, but you must know I could do far more for your career."

Meg smiled thinly. "Yes, Jean. I'm simply…not ready to leave le Soliel yet."

And not ready to offer my future up to you.

"Very well. I shall continue to try to persuade you otherwise, of course."

"I would expect nothing less from you."

Jean smiled wolfishly. "Ah…but you should expect everything, Marguerite. And I am greatly looking forward to seeing that you have it."

Meg caught her breath. "Jean…I wish you wouldn't say such things."

His smile grew wider. "And I wish you would not be so adorably resistant to my charms."

She couldn't help smile. "Ah, but were I to give in, you would surely tire of me quickly. And what fun would there be in that?"

Jean laughed in earnest. "What fun indeed?" He leaned across the table, eyes growing darker. "You are a remarkable woman, Marguerite. I hope you will allow me escort you to the gala after La Périchole."

Meg had known he would ask. Part of her wanted to refuse, knowing that Raoul would likely be in attendance. But she had promised herself that she would let go of that childish fantasy. Raoul was far out of her reach for so many reasons, but Jean Ranier was not. She took a fortifying breath, and moved forward. "I would like nothing more."

Perhaps if she said it enough times, she might actually come to believe it.

xXx

Antoinette Giry sat in the parlor of the Marseille House attempting to read. Her mind, however, was entirely preoccupied with her daughter, who was at present dining again with Monsieur Ranier. Antoinette did not trust that man in the least. Certainly Meg was an intelligent girl and Antoinette had raised her well, but Jean Ranier was the type of man who could make even an intelligent woman forget to think.

What concerned Antoinette even more was the fear that Meg was turning to Ranier in order to forget le vicomte. She was well aware of her daughter's feelings for Raoul, and had watched Meg valiantly try to hide her sadness these past weeks in his absence. Jean Ranier had been there to capitalize on Meg's loneliness, showering her with all the pretty words and gifts that she had not received from le Vicomte.

That very afternoon, Antoinette had watched Meg's face light with happiness when she had seen Raoul again, and for a brief moment it seemed that he had been equally moved by the reunion. But something had passed between them in the following moments that had caused Meg's spirits to fall.

Her daughter had returned to the stage fighting tears, and Antoinette had immediately rushed to her in concern. But Meg had claimed only that she was feeling suddenly unwell, and the return of the other ballerinas had forced Antoinette to let the matter drop. She had reluctantly proceeded with the rehearsal and Meg had made herself very scarce after that.

Antoinette was not certain exactly what had occurred between Meg and Raoul, but she feared that now Meg would be even more vulnerable to Ranier's advances. She sighed in frustration, giving up on the book. She had honestly believed that le vicomte was developing a deep attachment to Meg, and the idea had worried her due to his previous engagement to Christine. Antoinette knew the past would always be between the two, even more with Meg knowing of Christine's marriage and whereabouts whilst Raoul remained in the dark.

Still, she much preferred her daughter's attachment to le vicomte than to Ranier. At least Raoul was a gentleman. Or so Antoinette had believed, but she did not know what to think of the day's events. She only knew that she would be having a long discussion Meg when she returned home.

xXx

Meg arose in the morning feeling wretched. She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, her mind spinning with thoughts of Raoul and Jean. Her mother had been awaiting her return the previous evening, and much of what they had spoken of had weighed heavily on her.

Meg had finally confessed to her mother the hope she had allowed herself in thinking that Raoul might feel something more for her. And the painful realization that he likely did not. Antoinette had tried to console her in this, but they both knew that even if Raoul had such feelings, acting on them would have been rather inappropriate under the circumstances. Christine would remain an ever present barrier between them, forcing Meg to forever betray one friend's trust to protect the other.

Shaking off her weariness, Meg forced herself to dress and descend the stairs, and upon doing so she discovering that the latest letter from Christine had arrived. Hoping for some distraction from her own piteous circumstances, she hastened through breakfast and retired to her room, opening the parchment carefully. Relaxing into a chair, she began to read.

xx

Meg,

What have I been missing? I cannot believe all that you have written. I am not certain what to make of it. I confess that Madame's letters have not been complimentary of this Monsieur Ranier. Should I be worried?

I can only tell you to follow your heart. It will not mislead you.

Please, Meg, assure me that all is well.

I cannot help but be happy at the news of your advancement in the theater. You are more deserving of such recognition than anyone. I know you will be a great success, whether at le Soliel or the Opera.

Erik was quite amused by your last letter. He very much fancies the idea of returning to Paris to haunt the Opera again. He has been composing in the evenings, and it has been wonderful to sit and listen to him play. Music is his joy, his passion. After me, of course.

And truly it is a passion we share. I find I miss the stage far more than I had anticipated. Erik is forever assuring me that I shall perform again after the baby comes.

Meg, you would hardly recognize me now, I have gotten so big. And I still have nearly two more months to go. I am glad I do not need to make my living in the ballet, as I doubt I will ever be able to return my body its former lithe shape. I take heart that Prima Donnas can be as big as a house as long as their voices carry the same weight.

I cannot wait for this child to arrive. Everyday I grow more excited to finally meet this miracle that Erik and I have created.

Madame has written to say she will come soon. I so hope you will as well, as I know you would not wish to miss me in this condition.

I await your reply.

Your friend,

Christine

xx

Meg smiled sadly as she finished Christine's letter and wiped impatiently at the emotional tears in her eyes. Follow your heart. It will not mislead you.

She did not have that luxury.

Perhaps she should just pack up her belongings and head off to Dover to see her friend. Her own life was so confused now, and she wanted nothing more than to forget it all and focus on something happier.

But she could not leave. Not now with a new opera about to begin performances. Perhaps after that. Yes. She would ask for time away. Maman was planning to visit Christine soon. They could go together.

Meg would write back and tell Christine her plans. Time and distance should put things back into perspective.

Thank you loyal readers...stay tuned...