CHAPTER 37
As the moon gave way to the morning sun, Meg woke, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. She was terribly stiff and needed to stretch her limbs. Thankfully only her hands were bound. She stood up and walked around the bed to a small chair. She pushed it over to Christine's side and seated herself upon it.
Leaning closer to Christine, she whispered, "Christine? Wake up! It's morning."
Christine did not stir.
Brushing Christine's curls away from her face, Meg noticed her pale complexion against the light of the sun. She brought her hand to Christine's face, feeling her forehead, and noting she was unusually warm. "A fever!" Meg thought with panic.
She tried nudging Christine, but she would only become lucid for a few seconds then fade back into unconsciousness.
Meg got up and banged on the door with her bound hands. "S'il vous plaît! Someone? My friend needs a doctor!" Meg repeatedly struck the door until she heard a voice.
"Mademoiselle, please be calm. I will get le Comte. He is the only one with a key," the voice said.
"Wait, who are you? Can you not help us flee? Le Comte is not well," Meg said, hoping the man would assist them.
"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle, there is nothing I can do. Forgive me. I will get le Comte," the voice said resigned.
Meg listened to the footsteps fade and sighed in frustration. "I must find a way to get us out of here!
Alphonse reported to Philippe, telling him that one of the girls requested medical attention and failed to mention anything more. Philippe handed his driver the two letters he had written during the night and told him to have them sent out immediately. As Alphonse took his leave, Philippe made his way upstairs, key in hand.
Meg did her best to keep Christine cool. She dampened a small towel from the bathroom and kept it to Christine's forehead. The wound seemed to have stopped bleeding, but since it was not cared for, Meg was certain that it was the cause of her fever.
As she said a silent prayer, she heard the lock of the door click. Turning her attention toward it, she watched as a smug Philippe entered the room.
"What seems to be the problem here? This had better not be a trick or else I shall see to it that you and that one there are sent to lesser accommodations than what you have now," Philippe said callously.
"Christine is ill, Philippe. Get her a doctor, please!" Meg pleaded.
"You just want me to bring in an outsider so that you may try and escape or pass a note in hopes of being discovered!" Philippe snapped.
"She needs medicine and someone to tend to her injury. You cannot expect me to be able to keep her well with just a simple wet cloth?" Meg argued.
"You will make do with what is available to you and if she dies, then you have no one to blame but yourself!" Philippe yelled and then exited the room.
Meg felt so helpless. She wanted to cry, but she knew she had to stay strong for Christine's sake. She knew that if anything happened to Christine, there would only be one person to blame and that was Philippe.
Holding back her tears, she got up to moisten the cloth again. It was the only thing she could do for Christine. "I pray her fever does not worsen."
Erik prepared all they needed to make the trip to Fontainebleau. He made sure to send Nicolas and Victor out to their posts before waking Nadir. He told his old friend to send for the Vicomte.
"I will be waiting out front for you both. Do not delay," Erik suggested.
Nadir and Raoul made their way out of the front doors. Erik was already seated in the driver's position and told Raoul to get inside of the carriage as he motioned to Nadir to take the seat beside him.
As the carriage made its way past the gates of the estate, Madame Giry watched from her room, placing her hand onto the window. "God bless their journey and bring them all back safely," she thought solemnly.
Marcel and his two brothers, Arnaud and Luc, made their way to the front of the de Chagny property in Fontainebleau.
"I really dislike being in the service of this pompous ass!" Arnaud stated.
"Mind your tongue, brother. Once we have paid our debt, we shant be his lackeys anymore," Marcel voiced.
"For what purpose has he called upon us?" Luc asked simply. He was the youngest of the three and the most reserved.
"We will not know until we meet with le Comte. All he requested was our immediate presence. That is all I know," Marcel answered.
The Aiton brothers stood before the large oak door, as Marcel proceeded to knock.
Alphonse greeted them and brought the brothers into the sitting room.
"I shall send for le Comte," Alphonse said, making his way towards the study.
Announcing the arrival of his guests to his master, Philippe ordered Alphonse to look in on the girls while he tended to business. He gave his driver the key and Alphonse nodded, making his way up the stairs.
Knocking before turning the lock, Alphonse opened the door carefully and viewed the two girls sorrowfully. He watched as Meg tended to a fevered Christine.
"Mademoiselle, are you in need of anything? I fear there is not much I can offer, but I will do my best to assist you," Alphonse suggested.
"Save us from le Comte's madness! Can you not see he is troubled?" Meg said desperately.
"Forgive me, Mademoiselle. There's nothing I can do... believe me!" Alphonse said in frustration.
Meg pleaded as a few tears fell from her eyes, "Try and get word to Melun, the estate of La Maison de Roses. I beg of you, Monsieur!"
Alphonse just shook his head. He tried to weigh the consequences against his better judgment. He decided not to answer Meg's request.
"I shall bring you both something to eat. I won't be long." Alphonse bowed and exited the room, locking it behind him.
"Messieurs… Good of you all to make it in a timely fashion," Philippe announced, stepping into the sitting room.
"What in the hell is this all about, Comte?" Arnaud spoke abruptly.
Philippe stiffened at the man's bold outburst.
Marcel glared at his brother for speaking out of turn, and then addressed Philippe. "My apologies, for my brother's rude behavior, Comte."
"See to it that your brothers keep their mouths shut, Marcel, or else I will have their tongues!" Philippe warned.
"Oui, Comte!" Marcel stood and bowed before him.
Philippe walked over to a small table in the corner of the room and poured himself a glass of brandy.
"I will make this as clear as possible, so that there is no mistaking what is to be done. I have two guests that will need hidden transport across France, to La Rochelle. Madame Brigitte will be expecting our arrival at her chateau. I need for the three of you to secure my guests as I will be traveling separately. I do not wish to draw attention to myself."
"I beg your pardon, Comte, but who are these 'guests' that we will be transporting?" Marcel dared to ask.
"You three are to refrain from any questions unless I provide you with information. The only thing you and your brothers are to concern yourselves with is doing what I have asked. We leave immediately," Philippe said firmly. "Now, follow me," he gestured.
The three brothers stood up and followed Philippe upstairs, as requested.
As the men made their way to the door of the guestroom, they came upon Alphonse with a tray of food in hand.
"They won't be in need of that," Philippe said, knocking the tray from his driver's hand.
"Comte?" Alphonse said confused.
"We're leaving! Go ready the carriage!" Philippe ordered.
Alphonse made his way quickly down the stairs as Philippe and the Aiton brothers entered the guestroom.
Against fierce protest, Meg struggled as Philippe and Marcel secured her mouth and made sure her binds were in place. Arnaud and Luc carried Christine's motionless body within a blanket. Marcel told Luc to keep an eye on the girls, as he and Arnaud would be taking turns driving to La Rochelle.
Once everyone was in place, Philippe motioned to Marcel to go ahead of him. Climbing into his carriage, Philippe knocked on the roof to let his driver know he was ready.
As they drove away from the holiday home, Alphonse cursed himself for not acting sooner. Philippe's inhuman display upstairs had snapped Alphonse's good sense back into place.
Now he prayed for a miracle.
Scrawled into the dirt by the side of the house was a message, "La Rochelle, Chateau de la Fontenelle."
Disclaimer
Once again, I have no affiliation, rights, nor do I profit from the Chateau de la Fontenelle