Never Time Enough

Raoul's journey to Calais had not gone smoothly. Upon his inquiry at the Paris Station, he had found that the next train would not be boarding until the following afternoon. Impatient to sit and wait, he had ridden well into the evening to reach Amiens, where a morning train would board to the coast. He had endured a sleepless night, only to have the departure time delayed by several hours in the morning.

Now, having finally arrived in Calais, Raoul found himself again at a loss. He had not a clue as to where to begin his search for Meg, so he made his way over to the agent at the train station. He described Meg and Madame Giry to the man, and asked if he recalled seeing them. The agent had looked at Raoul with impatient disdain, curtly informing him that he saw so many people come though the station he couldn't be expected to remember them all.

Biting off his own angry reply, Raoul instead asked where the nearest inn was, hoping that Meg and her mother might have stopped there for the night before traveling on. Or, God forbid, if they were traveling with Ranier, that they would have been simply looking for convenient rooms. Or even a meal at the tavern.

As luck would have it, the innkeeper at the Hotel Escale had remembered them. The middle aged man had eyed Raoul warily at first, despite introducing himself as le Vicomte de Chagny. But a few francs had cured the man of his hesitancy at discussing former guests.

"Yes, Madame and Mademoiselle Giry did stay here for one night, sir."

"Did…did a gentleman come in with them? A Monsieur Ranier?"

"Mm. Don't recognize the name. I do recall seeing a man escort them in, but he didn't stay the night here. Tall fellow with dark hair. Seemed quite smitten with the young lady."

Raoul swore under his breath, clutching onto the fact that Ranier at least had not stayed at the inn with Meg.

"Did he return in the morning?"

"Don't recall seeing him in here again, sir, but I can't say for certain."

Raoul pressed on with his questioning. "Did the ladies happen to mention a couple named Rousseau?"

"No, sir, can't say that they did. But they did ask about the steamer."

That caught Raoul off guard. "The steamer?"

"Mm. Inquired about booking passage to Dover. I told them how to get to port."

Raoul was left speechless. Dover? Why on earth would they have gone to Dover?

He'd made his way to port and had inquired once again about the Girys and Ranier, but no one seemed to recall them. Some sixth sense had told him that he should cross the channel, and as he could think of nowhere else to look in Calais, he decided to book passage to England.

xXx

Raoul did not have nearly as much luck upon arriving in Dover, and indeed began to think finding Meg would be hopeless. He tried six inns, eight cafés and two pubs with no luck, and been tempted to drink himself under the table. It wasn't until he'd stumbled into the Gate Inn that he'd finally found what he'd been looking for.

The innkeeper, a mister Bennett, was a burly sort with thinning hair and a thick cockney accent. Raoul once again described Meg and her mother, and the man had shaken his head. "I've had no single ladies stayin' 'ere recently, sir."

That begged the question Raoul was trying to avoid. "What about a Frenchman named Ranier?"

"Nope. No one by that name."

Raoul sighed. "I see." Before he turned to leave, Raoul tried one last possibility. "You wouldn't know the name Rousseau, by any chance?"

Bennett's eyes flashed with recognition, and he'd smiled a toothy grin. "Aye. An architect, that one! Stayed 'ere awhile wit' his wife, he did. Moved to a house down the shore. Come to mention it, I did see 'im in 'ere a couple of weeks ago talking to two ladies in the parlor; one older, one pretty little blond. Lucky devil he is, wot wit' the beauty he's already got at 'ome."

Raoul had been getting more excited with every word out of Mister Bennett's mouth. But he had believed the Rousseaus to be an older couple in ill health, and the revelation that Bennett thought Madame Rousseau was a beauty challenged that idea. Still…it could not be a coincidence.

"Might you be able to tell me where to find the home of Monsieur and Madame Rousseau?"

Bennett narrowed his eyes a little. "Wit' all due respect, sir. Rousseau ain't one to go messing about wit'. You ain't planning' on causin' any trouble, now, are ya?"

Raoul frowned. This was making even less sense to him. The Rousseaus sounded nothing like Meg had described…what little she had described. And why had she not wanted him to know that they lived in England?

Unless…

No. No, it couldn't be.

He cleared his throat. "My business is with the young mademoiselle you saw him with. I…must…speak with her."

Bennett grinned wolfishly. "Ah…your lady, is she?"

"I…yes."

The man eyed Raoul another moment before nodding. "You'll want to head up Barton Back towards Canterbury…'bout four miles, give or take. Rousseau bought the ol' Howard place. Nice little house wit' a stone fence, it is."

Raoul replied with a terse "Thank you."

As he left the Gate Inn, his mind was reeling with the information that Bennett had given him.

Who were Monsieur and Madame Rousseau? Could it possibly be…?

"Christine?" He whispered to himself.

Raoul had realized long ago that Meg knew more about Christine's exodus from Paris than she would ever say. He had asked her many times during their first conversations, but it became quickly clear that Meg would never betray her friend. Regardless of what Meg would not tell him, Raoul had always suspected that Christine had left to be with him. The Phantom.

He had hated the thought of it. Hated even more that he could never be entirely certain…never ask Christine why she would choose that monster. How she could forgive him for all the evil he had brought about.

But Raoul had wanted Christine to be happy, and so he had not chased after her. Nor had he pressured Meg and her mother to reveal Christine's secrets. He had forced himself to accept that Christine was gone, and the entire subject became the elephant in the room that he and Meg could never speak of.

Was it any wonder that Meg had not fallen into his open arms at his declaration of love?

You told Meg that Christine is only a memory. But is she? Now when you might see her again, how will you feel?

Oh, Meg. Why did you lie to me?

And what in the hell does Ranier have to do with any of this?

Raoul's hand shook as he attempted to flag a hansom. Perhaps he was seeing ghosts that did not exist. Bennett had said nothing to prove that Rousseau had any connection to Christine. He had said Rousseau was an architect, not a composer. And he had not mentioned a deformity, or a mask.

Ah, but you didn't ask him that either.

And why would Meg and her mother go to such lengths to keep their presence in Dover a secret?

Who else could they be protecting?

There was only one way to find out. Raoul secured a coach and repeated the instructions Bennett had given him. The coachman nodded and they were on their way. Raoul would soon have his answers.

As the driver pulled up to the Rousseau house, Raoul found himself second guessing his decision to come here. He was not invited, nor even expected and he could not be certain who would open the door when he knocked. But merely sitting in Dover hoping to catch a glimpse of Meg had not been an option.

He asked the driver to remain, in case he discovered that he truly had no business here, and stood at the door, hand poised to ring the bell. He fingered his cane nervously, as it concealed a blade he might be forced to use if Monsieur Rousseau turned out, in fact, to be the phantom.

But surely even he would not risk upsetting Christine by committing murder on her front doorstep.

A/N: One teeny tiny little cliffhanger...you've probably all noticed by now I don't tend to do much of that. I have made our dear Vicomte an intelligent man in this story, but he does have his dimmer moments...like this one.

Reviews and comments welcome.