And Tell You All

The Comte de Chagny had not yielded in his disapproval of his son's foolish pursuit of yet another actress, but as Raoul was his only son, he had been forced to admit to himself that disowning the boy was simply not an option. The de Chagny name was far too valuable to Philippe.

To his relief, Mademoiselle Giry had not jumped into Raoul's waiting arms, as Christine Daae had seemed to do. No, this girl seemed to have a practical head on her shoulders. If only Raoul could be cured of his overly romantic notions, Philippe would be happy. Alas, the boy was destined to remain impractical about such things, much in the same way his mother was. And Philippe feared there was little to be done to prevent another blemish on the de Chagny name. He could only hope that Monsieur Ranier might still succeed in halting the progression of this ill advised courtship.

xXx

Jean Ranier was not a man who stepped lightly into ventures without being fully prepared. He had made enough inroads into the Paris theaters with the chorus girls to be able to retrieve valuable information on almost any happening. He knew what operas were being performed, which tenors were drunks, which divas worth their upkeep, and which managers were clueless to the backstage happenings occurring under their own noses.

He only needed some roses and a few sweet words of seduction to have anything he wanted. And at the moment, he wanted Marguerite Giry. He had thought being the patient suitor would be enough, but de Chagny had thwarted that tactic.

So he gently extricated all the gossip he could regarding Meg and the vicomte from the ballet rats at le Soliel, hoping to find an effective wedge to drive between them. He had already known about the boy's failed engagement to Christine Daae, and had been certain that would have been the perfect angle to play. But Meg was far more resistant than he'd given her credit for. Yet she did still have doubts; that was clear enough.

Jean had been overjoyed to hear from his sources that Meg was taking a leave from le Soliel. Traveling with her mother, apparently, and le Vicomte would remain in Paris. Another woman had left him much the same way, and a plan began to form in Jean's mind. The separation between the two would-be-lovers could be used to his advantage. Perhaps it was time to contemplate a little trip of his own.

xXx

"Where did you say the Rousseaus are living?"

Meg looked up from her tea at Raoul's question. The subject of her upcoming journey was not one she relished. She and her mother had constructed a careful mix of vague truth and evasion to explain their trip, but uttering such half truths to Raoul made her feel horrible. She carefully schooled her features to hide the guilt. "The coast."

He smiled. "Where on the coast?"

Meg raised a brow and grinned a little. "In a lovely little cottage, according to their letters."

Raoul raised his own brow at her teasing. "Meg…I mean to ask you what city you will be traveling to."

She sighed, giving him another partial truth. "Maman and I will take the train to Calais."

"And from there?"

"Monsieur and Madame Rousseau live just outside the city." Not a lie, really. They did live outside the city, just not Calais.

Raoul nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. "May I write you, Meg?"

Meg paused over her tea, trying to think of how to respond to that. "I…am…not certain of the address yet."

"Then you will write to me when you arrive."

Damn. She should have realized he would expect that. "I...I will try to."

His happy countenance slipped at her evasiveness. "Try...? Meg, are you keeping something from me?"

"No!" She answered a little too quickly, and tried to smooth over her anxiety. "No, of course not. It is only that I am not certain how soon I will have a free moment. You know how time can disappear so easily when you are catching up with old friends."

Raoul continued to study her with a frown. "Yes, I suppose." He hated the thought of her leaving Paris for so long, and he finally mentioned the idea that had been forming for some time. "Meg, perhaps I should make arrangements to travel with you."

"No! Raoul, that is not necessary."

"But you and your mother should not be traveling unescorted. It isn't safe."

"We will be perfectly fine, Raoul. You really don't need to worry"

His eyes softened on her. "But I do, Meg. It would be no difficulty for me to book passage to Calais."

She stubbornly shook her head. "I cannot allow you to do such a thing. You have more important matters to see to than playing chaperone."

"Really, Meg, I have nothing more important…"

"Raoul, stop! Please."

Raoul dropped his eyes to hide the disappointment. "You…don't want me to accompany you."

"I'm sorry."

Pushing away the childish hurt he felt at her admission, Raoul sighed resignedly. "No…I…should not have presumed to intrude."

Meg could not bear to have him look so unhappy.She reached out to cover his hand with her own and smiled softly at him. "Your heart is in the right place."

He moved his hand to twine their fingers together, his tone serious. "Yes, Meg. It is."

Her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. "It is only two months, Raoul."

"It will feel like a lifetime."

Their gazes held, blue against blue, and Raoul easily pulled her into his arms. His kiss was soft at first, but the idea of being parted from her fed the desperation of his mouth on hers. Even when they were forced to breathe, Raoul could not bear to lose contact with her entirely, and he peppered little kisses on the corner of her mouth, her cheek, beneath her ear.

Between kisses, he whispered raggedly. "Perhaps…when you return…you might be ready to…embrace our future."

Her reply was a breathless whisper. "Perhaps."

It was a very long time later before Raoul finally forced himself to bid Meg goodnight. He was a gentleman, after all.

xXx

Raoul insisted on escorting Meg and Madame Giry to the train station in his own carriage. Antoinette Giry could not help but notice the intensity with which the young vicomte gazed at her daughter. There was no longer any question in her mind that the boy was truly in love with her little Meg. But she well understood her daughter's fears. Not only did the memory of Christine stand between them, but also Raoul's title and family seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

Meg had broken down in her mother's arms the morning after Raoul had professed his love. She had confessed all her doubts and admitted her inability to give him the words that had been in her heart for so long. Antoinette had not been able to offer any words to console her, knowing that the path her daughter's heart had taken could never be an easy one. Meg did not possess either the wealth or noble blood to gain an entirely respectable entry into the upper-class society. And it seemed Meg was more conscious of these matters than le vicomte.

Antoinette could not help but be proud of her daughter. She had not foolishly fallen into Raoul's arms expecting everything to work out for the best, but was thinking carefully on the future. And she, more that he, had been always careful to keep their relationship discreet when they were in the public eye. As it was, those thoughtless little brats at the theater whispered about her daughter's virtue. Though Antoinette faulted Meg's brief association Monsieur Ranier for that more than her growing closeness to the vicomte.

She was glad of this trip to Dover. The time away could only help Meg find some clarity. And perhaps being able to talk with Christine again would provide some much needed guidance. If le vicomte still felt as strongly for Meg when they returned to Paris, then perhaps Meg would be ready to take the chance on a future with him.

As the porter loaded the cases onto the train, Antoinette watched Raoul take Meg's hand. The look that passed between them was not one that could be confused for friendship.

"I will miss you, Meg."

"And I you."

Raoul glanced briefly at Antoinette. "You will both take care of yourselves..." His eyes fell back on Meg. "And write me so I may know you have arrived safely."

Meg found herself nodding. "I will post a letter when we reach Calais." What harm could come of that, she thought.

Raoul lifted Meg's hand to his lips, his voice dropping to a whisper. "My days will be dark indeed until you return, sweet Meg."

The train whistle sounded, and Antoinette placed a hand on her daughter's arm. "We must board now, Meg."

Raoul let go of Meg's hand with reluctance. "Allow me to help you both up."

Antoinette smiled at Raoul. "Thank you, Vicomte."

He took Madame Giry's hand first as she stepped up into the car. When she was safely inside, he reached for Meg's hand once again. "You are taking my heart with you, Meg. I'm trusting you to bring it back to me safely."

She smiled softly, and before she lost the nerve, she rose up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I shall try me best, Raoul."

Meg quickly grabbed the rail and stepped up into the car, turning to smile once more at the man who held her heart.

Raoul watched from the platform as the train pulled away from the Paris station, and remained long after the last puff of smoke faded from the horizon.

A/N: Alas, parting is such sweet sorrow. Stay tuned.