"So there is nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"Absolutely not,"

"And you know I am miserable?"

"Yes,"

"And you are comfortable with that knowledge?"

"Very much so,"

"I hate you,"

"I love you too,"

Bernadette and I had held this conversation more than once since the letter had arrived. She was not thrilled; nor was I but we were going anyway.

CJ was sitting beside me; a wry smile on her lips after the conversation we had just had. She placed her hand over mine and leaned her head on my shoulder.

The motor car we were in sputtered as it travailed down the gravel road; I had not wanted to take a car; they were unreliable and loud and they smelled like hell, but carriages were fast becoming a thing of the past and this was the only way we could reach our destination.

Our destination was an odd one and the cause of much debate in my family. About a month prior to the current July afternoon, we had received a letter from Christine. These were not unusual; after the incident with her son, she had constantly sent letters to us conveying her thanks and asking about our well being.

I had not wanted to respond but CJ had told me I was being childish so I was forced to at letter opener point. I had thought she would eventually stop writing, but she kept up correspondence. I had not seen her often; every once and a while in the streets. When we did meet we had slightly awkward conversations about our families and then said goodbye.

However, her last letter had been different; she had made a request.

Usually Christine kept her letters short, but this one had been quite lengthy. She never said much about her son Henri, other than simple details and I had gathered that he was fine.

It seemed that he was not. I had thought perhaps something like this might happen, after the traumatic events of his childhood. Christine had explained that after the kidnapping, Henri had become very secluded. He only liked to be around his parents and he shied away from even the house servants. He was privately tutored and refused to meet any other children his age.

His parents had appeased him, but they both agreed that now that he was 16, it was best that he socialize. There was an upcoming party they were going to bring him to; a formal ball really, and Henri knew no one who was going to be there and he was currently the only boy going without a female date

Bernadette was his age; 16. That was what Christine had asked, that we come and visit them, of course she had worked in that we were invited to this gala and wouldn't it be nice for her son to meet our daughter.

CJ had been against the entire endeavor, but I had convinced her it was worth doing; I knew what it was to loath the public eye and not want to socialize with anyone; and it was no way to live.

And so we found ourselves traveling down a dirt road in the French countryside, headed for the de Chagny estate. It was an odd situation; that I of all people would be helping someone with their social skills, but such is life.

Bernadette was looking out the window with her green eyes narrowed; she had complained adamantly about this trip; she had said she hated the country, though she had never been there, and that she did not want to leave all of her friends in the city. We reminded her that it was only for a month or so that we would be gone, but she hated the idea none the less.

She was a good natured girl and I could not have wished for a better daughter; she was bright with a beautiful voice and a real talent with the piano. All and all she reminded me very much of her mother. Normally she showed great enthusiasm for everything she did; however this one trip did not appeal to her at all.

She was beautiful like CJ was; at 16 she looked like a grown woman and this bothered me to no end. To me, she was still the little girl I used to pick up off the ground and hold in my arms.

Bernadette sighed and turned to me,

"You said they had a horse?"

Ever since we had put her on one of the mounted policeman's horses she had been addicted. CJ and I had been put on mounted duty for a time; the slim, fast body of a horse had many advantages over the cumbersome carriage.

"I think they have several," I told her,

"And I will be able to ride them?"

"I don't see why not,"

She smiled at me, "I am being a pain, aren't I?"

"A bit of a pain, yes," I said lightly,

"How much longer will it take to get there?" Bernadette asked me,

"I don't know, I told you I have never been there before,"

We continued to drive through the country side; the grass was a bright green and trees lined the road, throwing a slight shadow over our path. It had been some time since I had seen anything but the manmade cityscape and I had forgotten what an impact nature alone can have on the observer.

"My God…I forgot the countryside," CJ breathed next to me; voicing what I was thinking, "I have not seen this much of it since I was a little girl,"

"Where did you grow up again?" Bernadette asked her; she had heard stories of our past millions of times, or course some details such as my career as opera ghost had been omitted, and as many times as she had heard them she never tired of hearing them over again,

"You know where I grew up; on the coast of England,"

"And your father was a pirate?" She spoke with wide eyed enthusiasm; her adventurous sprit which had developed during her childhood had never diminished and I had the sneaking suspicion that she would end up in a wild adventure of her own

Of course I wanted none of this; I wanted her to stay in her room and play the piano until she was thirty years of age. Much to my dismay, I discovered I could not keep her under such surveillance, and CJ constantly reminded me that we had to trust her. I told her I did trust our daughter; it was everyone else that bothered me.

"Yes, he was, but he was also a very sweet man,"

"How can you be both a pirate and a sweet man?"

"You will have to ask him,"

"You always say that!" Bernadette playfully hit CJ's knee,

"I know, you should know the answer by now,"

It looked like our excitable daughter was going to say more, but suddenly she stopped. She was looking open mouthed out the window,

"It that the house?"