A Place in This World
OperaLover: I had already posted chapter 16 when I found your review, so I thought I would repost with a great big "Thank You" for taking the time to read and review my story, and welcome aboard! I am glad you are enjoying it. It is nice to meet a fellow fanatic and Gerry Tart, it was my interest in his insightful and passionate portrayal of Erik that inspired this story; now I can't seem to get him (Gerard) out of my system! Oh, and here is your update!
MastersofNight: Thank you for your review also. That chapter was the hardest one to write so far. I wanted my readers to understand that Christine loves Erik very much but she is still unsure of her exact feelings where both men are concerned. I will go a little bit more in depth with this subject later. Erik on the other hand, is ready to move on. Please, please, please don't tie me to the chair – I promise I will finish:-)
Mominator124: I hope this chapter reveals deep and hidden secrets to you, and in the one sense, I am happy to disappoint! Thanks for reading!
CHAPTER 16
With his words, Margarite's heart picked up pace. What could she possibly possess that would make this man happy? Alastair noticed the uncertainty in her face and thought it best that he explain himself. "Make yourselves comfortable, this will take a little while to tell. My story begins twenty-nine years ago…"
FLASHBACK (told from third person view)
The Lauchlan Estate; September 3, 1837
The estate was full of people; people everywhere. Alastair didn't much care for crowds, preferring instead to curl up to a good book or draw and design a new structure; but… Brianna loved to entertain. Since their marriage 13 years ago, they had probably hosted half the known world on the grounds of their opulent estate. The Lauchlan Estate was known for its flower gardens and large display of native plant life. People came from remote areas just to get a chance to see the renowned estate and the Lord and Lady who oversaw its construction and daily functions.
An ethereal figure caught Alastair's eyes; Brianna Lauchlan, Lady of Berwithshire, was gracefully flowing down the ornate, winding staircase. She looked radiant; her golden hair pulled up and framing her angelic face; just a few strands meandered down the sides of her cheeks. Her gown was the most shimmering shade of green he had ever seen, bringing attention to her exquisite eyes. Alastair could get lost in those eyes and stay lost forever; after all these years, she still managed to take his breath away.
She had just come down from putting their five children to bed in their fairytale rooms. They had four daughters ages 12, 10, and a set of 8 year-old twins and a son; who at the age of four, was the only male born to the Lauchlan family and heir to the entire estate.
All of the girls, except Kaitlyn, were blond headed little doll babies with bouncy, golden curls like their mother and dancing green eyes with a tinge of brown around the edges; a perfect blending of both parents.
Their features were their fathers; who was considered a very handsome man. But his handsomeness paled in comparison to Brianna's beauty. Their second born daughter, Kaitlyn and the young Lord of Berwithshire were the exact replicas of their mother; breath-takingly beautiful, with the most arresting green eyes, like pools of liquid emeralds; even more beautiful than their mother's. Their features were perfect; as though carved from the finest ivory in the entire world by a master artisan.
Kaitlyn could be her mother's twin in every way, except she had her father's dark, wavy locks. The young Lord of Berwithshire was Brianna's image in every way except four; he had his fathers raven, wavy, thick hair; his full, luscious, ever-so-kissable lips, his deep eyes, and his adorable cleft chin. He was Alastair's pride and joy. At last, a son to carry on the family name and bring two wealthy and powerful families together by blood.
Lord Donovan and Lady Fionola Shaunessy were dear friends of Alastair and Brianna. They were one of the prominent families in Ireland. Their infant daughter A'awynn, was betrothed to young Lord Lauchlan, the future Fourth Duke of Berwithshire. The betrothal, agreed upon a month ago and put into writing a few short moments ago, was the reason for tonight's celebration. All that was left for the young Lord and Lady to do, was grow up. They would wed in a few years and carry on the relationship that these two families had been enjoying for generations. After all, Alastair and Brianna's marriage had been arranged, and they were more in love with each other than many of the marriages that were not arranged.
Brianna had left the nannies in charge of caring for her beloved children and had rejoined her husband in the Ballroom. The festivities lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, with the last guest leaving at around 3:30. The benevolent host couple was exhausted. After peeking in on the girls, Brianna headed for their son's room; Alastair caught up to her and put a gentle, restraining hand on her arm, "He's fine, Brianna, Nola is with him…let him sleep."
Brianna could not help the sense of foreboding that swept over her as she took one last fleeting look at the door that separated her son from her. Giving into her husband's gentle pleading, she literally fell into bed, every muscle in her svelte body was hurting. Both were practically asleep before their heads hit the pillows. What a night it had been…so full of promise.
The next morning started out much as any other. The Lord and Lady were sleeping in, having had a very late night. Eilis, the head mistress of the house, made her way to the young Lord's bedroom to retrieve him for breakfast. The girls had been up and tended to for a couple of hours now. The young Lord's nanny seemed to have disappeared this morning; this was highly unusual for Nola, but not unheard of. Eilis rapped quietly on the door, knowing that the young Lord would be about his morning reading. He was a bright one, the young Lord Lauchlan; she had never seen a more intelligent young man. When there was no answer, she cracked the door slightly, not wanting to intrude on his studies.
The screams echoed through the entire estate, waking even the lowest of servants in the stables. The Lord and Lady jumped out of the bed at the same time, grabbing their robes. They rushed down the hallway toward the terrified screams. There was chaos everywhere. Nobody knew exactly where the screams were radiating from.
As is a mother's intuition, Brianna's first reaction was to check on her children. Their daughters' rooms were to the left of the master bedroom. She headed for both rooms and sighed in relief when she noticed the girls were coming up the stairs with Fauna, their nanny. Alastair instructed her to keep the girls away, at least until he knew the source of or reason for the screaming.
The incessant screaming had stopped; but in its place was the most forlorn sobbing Brianna had ever heard. It was coming from her son's room. Her heart was in her throat as she ran toward her son's room, just to the right of her own. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if she was going to be sick. Her hands were shaking as she approached the open door.
Eilis was on her knees beside Nola, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Nola was propped up against the bed, a pool of blood gathering at her feet as it ran from the stab wounds in her abdomen and chest. By the looks of it, she had been dead for several hours. Her right hand was resting atop the bed as if reaching for the young Lord as he rested in his bed. Her tears appeared to be running down her still, unmoving face; she had loved the young Lord as if he were her own son. Brianna collapsed as she surveyed the brutal scene. Her sons name escaping her lips in a cry of despair. Alastair caught her in his strong arms, almost losing it himself as he realized the magnitude of what had happened…his son, his hope for the future of his family name and the stability of his estate…was gone.
END FLASHBACK
Alastair sat demurely while the occupants of the room absorbed what he had said. His tears flowed silently down his face, as painful now as they had been twenty-nine years ago. There was not a dry eye on anyone present. Raoul's heart was wrenching for this man before him. The loss of his son was still a raw sore that festered with pain. "Who took him…and why?" Raoul pleaded.
Alastair answered painfully, "I have made enemies in my time; I am a rather outspoken nobleman with ideas about how things should be handled. I do not always stick to tradition when seeking ways to get things done. I design new ways to bring modern luxuries to everyday people, not just the nobles – and the nobles are not happy with this." Alastair dropped his eyes and stared at the family crest that adorned a ring on his right ring finger. "My father was the same way…"He jerked his head up out of his thoughts, "…I did not rest until I found answers. I questioned everyone that had been at my estate that night – there had been hundreds, so it took some time. After a great deal effort and the help of many, I managed to piece together some information from different sources."
Those deep, brown eyes were burning with unrelenting anger, "A previous business partner of mine was determined to get his hands on a design that I had made for an underground pool system. He wanted the design and the profits that went with it." His broad shoulders shrugged as if money and prestige meant nothing to him, "I refused to sell it to him. I did not need the money and I did not like his business etiquette. I dismissed him from my business, thinking him a sniveling fool and thought no more of him."
Alastair snorted, making a very humorless sound. "He, on the other hand, planned and orchestrated this horrendous act of cowardliness. He had always been jealous of my abilities and my family. He lusted after my wife and made no qualms about letting me know what he would do to her if given the opportunity. His loathing for my son was evident at a very early stage; I could always see the hate in his eyes. He commented day in and day out about the handsomeness of my son, saying that no boy should be that 'pretty' or that smart…oddly, he never seemed interested in my daughters."
Alastair's cleft chin began to shake again, the tears were threatening. "I finally caught him and he was sentenced to death. I had the opportunity to question him in front of the House of Lords. He took pride in detailing every awful moment to me. He not only stole my boy out from underneath me in my own house…"Alastair's resolve began to crumble and the next words were barely above a whisper, "…he tortured him!"Lord Lauchlan could hold it in no longer, he wept for his son who had endured such horrible torture at the hand of a madman. Margarite rushed to console the trembling man whose wails broke her heart.
Alastair excused himself in a bit of a hurry and after inquiring as to the location of the bathroom, proceeded to empty his stomach of its contents. To this day, he blamed himself for the fate his son had suffered. He washed his mouth out, straightened his clothes and, found his way back to the dining room to continue with his story. The three people before him seemed riveted to the telling of his tale. He could see the pain in the eyes of all of them, and hoped that he was doing this for all the right reasons. He did not want another disappointment.
"As heart-wrenching as your story is, your grace; I still see no connection to me." Margarite's voice was strained with emotion; she had never been so affected by a story, except for when Erik talked about his time with the gypsies.
"I am getting to that Madam Giry." His tone was reserved and polite, but there was an edge to his words. He was anxious to get his answers, but felt that he needed to present them with background. Alastair began again, the pain flooding over him as if it was yesterday. "MacNera told of the torture he had put my son through with exhilaration and loathing in his voice. He demonstrated with pictures how, while my son was awake and alert, he had meticulously burned the right side of his face with hot wires and pokers; he molded my sons face into a monstrous representation of a demon. He even sent a drawn picture of the finished "masterpiece", as he called, to my family. MacNera was quite the artist."
The last phrase was literally snarled between clenched teeth; Alastair pulled a folded parchment from his suit jacket and opened it for the others to see, staring back at them was an all too familiar sight,"I keep it as a reminder of what my son, at the age of four, endured…completely alone." The noble man restrained his tears; to allow them to flow again would prevent him from giving the full account of the atrocious acts performed against his son
Margarite listened intently, already knowing the avenue that his story was going to take, "After he had molded my son into the monster he wanted him to be, he sold him as a freak show exhibit to the gypsies. He thought he would destroy my family by taking my son from me…all he did was make my resolve to find him stronger and my need for revenge more intense. I had the Right of Restitution granted me by the House of Lords. I am not proud of how I single-handedly destroyed him; eventually taking his life…I pray that God will forgive me of that sin, but it is amazing how all propriety and logic is thrown to the wind where our children are concerned."Alastair stared right into Margarite's eyes when he spoke; he knew that she knew about whom he was talking.
A gasp escaped the mouths of both ladies; the tragedy of the whole story hitting them hard. "I have searched every gypsy camp from here to Russia for over 25 years and have been unsuccessful in locating my son. They never stay in one place for very long. I have been given dead ends and useless bits of information to mislead me; but I am determined to find him…that is where you come in."
He noticed that the color had drained from Madam Giry's face; she was as white as a ghost. He looked deep into her eyes and saw a knowing glow there. Ms. Daae was weeping with both relief and regret etched on her face. Only one name could be heard coming from her lips, as all eyes turned to her. She said the name that lingered on everyone's mind since the mention of the vicious torture performed on the young Lord's face..."Erik!"
Chapter 17 preview – Preparing to meet Erik