Chapter 41- Race

Henry had lied to Meg and the thought tortured his tired mind as the carriage wobbled across the cobblestones. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, he could feel the change in the road surface as they hit a dirt road. They weren't far away.

He wasn't going where he had told Meg that he was going nor was he going there on that sort of business. No, this was another sort of business.

Far more important and more lucrative.

He passed an old hut and knew that they were getting closer but he feared he was going to be too late. If he was late this would mean trouble for him.

And for Meg.

Madame Giry realised that it had been years since she had felt this much energy or this much urgency. It was time. And it had come a lot quicker than she or he had anticipated. She had no way to warn him except to get there quickly and that was exactly what she intended to do.

So far she remained confused at how they had found Erik and Christine but the fact of the matter was that they had and that there was little time left to save them both. When she had seen Henry leave she had quickly thrown on her shawl and leapt onto her horse, riding herself for the first time in years. This was much quicker than a carriage ride.

As she galloped across what seemed such a vast countryside her mind raced as she thought how she would handle these new events. It wasn't though they had been unexpected. They just hadn't been expected quite this quickly.

She had not given them enough credit and she longed to know how they had done it. They certainly had not followed her there since the last time she had been forced to detour. She knew this because she hadn't attempted a visit since. She did not even know if Christine would be well enough to take flight and the thought terrified her.

She knew that Erik could take care of himself but she also knew what he was up against. Fear struck her hard and she nudged the horse in his side, spurring him on.

Now as the sun dipped below the distant trees she hoped that Erik and Christine had found some medium, had found a half way point between their differences. Erik had been angry for far too long and Christine had done only what was right for her. At the time. Of course, she was young and hadn't realized the implications of her naïve actions.

She had crushed Erik and though she chose Raoul it was only a matter of time before she realized that she was wrong. And that had crushed him too.

She had destroyed herself in this process. Antoinette knew from her own experience of love and loss that getting someone you care about off your mind was as difficult as leaving them behind. She had done it herself.

She had done it with Jacque.

Jacque had been a close friend for years, his sharp eyes and gifted story telling put her at ease with him and also, it put her at ease with herself. Antoinette knew that she was seen as the cold hearted, powerful woman. The one that worked at the Opera House, who conducted ballet like a maestro conducted the orchestra. She was aware that when people looked at her they saw the woman with her brown hair scraped back tight and wearing dark, conservative clothes. To these people, the people who didn't know her, she
was not even a woman at all. She was just there and to be avoided.

And that suited her.

She liked her own company, her privacy. Of course, she didn't like it quite to the extent that Erik did. He had made a lifetime of being alone, of liking being alone. But even now, as he was growing older even he was beginning to see that life wasn't made to be spent alone, making music and instruments. Life was for sharing. Antoinette urged the horse onwards, the dust flew up from its hooves as they pounded the floor.

Never before had the saying 'time is of the essence' been so apt a description for anything. She patted the horse's neck firmly, good boy, she thought as he ran on.

Again her mind fixed on her past, on her life, on everything she had done. As a child, as a girl, as a woman and as a mother. Some of the things she had encountered, some of the things she had thought. In that moment she seemed to remember her entire history, the bad and the good, the ups and the downs.

Landmark in her life, however, was Erik.

She had rescued him from the people who tortured him and used him as some sort of freak show. He wasn't a freak then and he wasn't now. He was simply unfortunate. Their friendship had evolved in strange ways, they had been friends and even for one night, lovers. He was her protégé and she was his confidante. It was Erik who had once drawn her attention to Jacques. She remembered, when they were teenagers, they were sitting on the beams high above the opera house, staring down at the commotion below them.

She smiled at the memory. Erik had pointed at a young man below and said,
'He is the man you should marry, Nette.' And Antoinette had laughed at him. It wasn't long before she realised that she should have listened and she had listened to him ever since.

That man was Jacque Persimere and he worked at the opera house as a labourer. Generally they treated the young man as a dog's body, having him run around, conducting all errands, fixing things, cleanings things and building sets. Over the years he had been promoted due to his loyal service and he now looked over the reception and ticket sales at the Opera Populaire. He was not an overtly intelligent man, he was too quiet for such a thing. Instead he learned to read and write in his own time, choosing historical texts over fiction. Antoinette allowed herself a brief smile. There was nothing in history that Jacque didn't know.

But she had married.

And then so had he. Unfortunately, they had not married each other. They didn't realise this as they married, both happy with their partners and for each other.

As it turned out the dashing young man that she had married was not the charmer he seemed. He was abusive, mentally and physically, and finally, he had left her. This, however, had given her no comfort. She actually missed the man and without Jacques to confide in she had turned to her longest and dearest friend. She had turned to Erik. Things had happened exactly the way she had told Christine, it was loneliness that united them and Erik's craving for loneliness that always sent her home.

Jacques was married to that woman to this day.

She had never been in love with Erik but she was jealous of Christine. Not because she wanted to be with Erik but because she was afraid that once Erik was wrapped up in Christine their friendship would diminish. Despite her pangs of jealousy her real concern was always for Erik's health and safety. Antoinette had worked so hard to help him, to make him come back out of his shell. Had she not have been there she was convinced that he would have died of a broken heart. He was barely eating, drinking only what was necessary. He would not leave the home they had found nor would invite her in readily.
She worked hard and in the end it paid off.

Until Christine had been unable to get him from her mind. Of course Erik hadn't helped this. The rose had not helped but Antoinette understood why he did it.

The three of them knew that she had condemned a man to death in place to Erik, to save him. The rose was to say that he was sorry, that he loves her still, that he was there looking over her that day. The rose was symbol of emotion.

The horse bolted hard through the woodland and the change in texture of the land beneath them shook her from her thoughts and set her mind back to the task at hand.

Again, she dug her heel into the horses side.

Time was of the essence.