Chapter Two
That Sunday, Christine dressed Henri in his little suit and Claire in a tiny black gown, tears stinging her eyes... It was the day of the memorial service... the day Raoul would be buried. It was still so hard for her to believe... that Raoul was gone.
Mere months ago he had been fine... She had been pregnant with Claire and he had been healthy... They had been happy. And then he had gotten sick... and the sickness had taken a toll on his body quickly. She had given birth to Claire without him by her side; the tuberculosis had already made him too ill to get out of bed. His death had been slow; painful... just as her father's had.
Christine was torn from her thoughts as the carriage pulled up outside of her home to take her to the funeral home. She picked up Claire from her changing table and took Henri's tiny hand in her own, leading him out to the carriage. It would be a trying day for all of them... It was time to say goodbye.
Erik dressed himself in a black suit, his usual attire. He was planning on attending the vicomte's memorial service today... out of respect for a worthy adversary, he supposed, for lack of a better reason. He boarded a carriage and directed the driver to take him to the St. Paul Cathedral, ignoring the guarded suspicion easily visible on the servant's features. Mentally, he prepared himself for the possibility of seeing Christine... and her children.
Christine stood at the entrance of the church, greeting the people attending the service, her son gripping the skirt of her black dress tightly, and silently crying into it; Claire nestled against her chest, fussing from all of the attention and the bustle of strangers around her. Her long, brown curls pulled up into a bun. She knew she did not look presentable to the other people of high society... Christine assumed stress did that to a person. She knew she had lost a considerable amount of weight since Raoul's death; her body had become frail, but it did not matter much to her, for she had learned there were far more important things to worry about nowadays.
Erik's carriage arrived at the church. "Pick me up at eleven," he instructed Pierre, the carriage driver. He turned, and saw that, at the entrance at the church, stood Christine. She cradled a baby to her, and a small boy was clinging to her skirts. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before entering the church, praying that she would not spot him. He waited a moment, until the stream of people entering thickened, before joining them in walking past the young widow.
Through the crowd, she saw a flash of a mask for an instant. A mask? Could it be him? No... He wouldn't come... would he? Christine had no more time to think about it though, for the service was about to begin, and she had to go take her seat.
"It's time to go in, Henri," she said soothingly, looking down at her boy. He wiped his eyes and reached up for her to hold him. Christine forced a smile and bent over and scooped him up in her free arm, carrying Claire and him into the large church... the same church she and Raoul had been married in only five years before. She took her seat at the front of the church, along with the rest of the deChangys... her family... some family they were... They had never accepted her and now they had left her on her own with their beloved Raoul's little boy and baby girl. The looks she received from the family she had married into made her feel as if she was going to be sick, but soon she was distracted from her thoughts once again when Claire started to fuss again, and Henri continued to cling to her... Christine desperately wished she could be more of a comfort to them, but knew that all they wanted was the home they had grown up in so far and most of all their papa... and it pained her greatly, knowing she may not be able to support them as they deserved.
Erik took a seat in a pew near the back, feeling somewhat out of his element in this sacred building. From each stained window, various religious figures seemed to glare accusingly at him. He was glad when the service began, though he did notice (if the contemptuous stares that the deChangys were throwing at Christine were any way to judge) that Christine no longer had any means of support, which worried him. It also pained him to see her and her family in such emotional pain.
Later on that morning, Christine stood, along with the others that had attended the service, in the cemetery. She stood and stared as her husband was lowered into the ground; tears fell from her eyes, holding Claire to her chest in the cold January wind, Henri crying into her skirts. Snow fell from the gray sky, and the cold caused her to shiver. She couldn't believe this was happening... It wasn't supposed to be like this... Raoul was still supposed to be alive and they were supposed to be having Sunday brunch back at the estate. He had promised her he would protect her and be by her side always... Why had he left her? And his children? Christine knew she was all alone now; she was all her children had, and that scared her to death.
Many had departed from the service at the church, a select few remaining for the burial. Erik was one of those, standing at the back of the crowd, and watching as tears rolled down Christine's delicate cheeks. The casket was lowered, and the priest said a few parting words before the ceremony was adjourned. Erik prepared himself before approaching Christine. She took a few moments before heeding his presence. "Christine," he said solemnly.
Christine startled, and turned to see Erik standing behind her. "Erik," she said surprised to see him, bending over and picking up Henri from where he clung to her dress; she balanced a now sleeping Claire in one arm and Henri in her other. He buried his face in her neck, becoming shy at the stranger that stood before them. "How... How have you been?" she asked, out of habit.
He ignored her question as he took in the picture before him: Christine, the little mother. Finally, vaguely aware that she was becoming uncomfortable under his stare, he said, "I am deeply sorry for your despair." This was true; although he was not sorry for the vicomte to be dead, he was quite sorry for her to be so deeply saddened by it.
She looked down at the ground, blinking back her tears. "Thank you," she said quietly, looking back up at him.
"From what I gather, you have no current means of support," he continued, forcing himself to look away from her, to the church beyond, lest he be overcome by sympathy and cultivate the urge to hold her.
"Yes, well..." she began, finding it hard to string words together... She was very surprised to see Erik there... To be speaking to him. "We will manage..." she finished, saying the same thing she had been telling herself since Raoul's death aloud. Henri glanced up at Erik, but then shied away again. "Oh my, we're forgetting our manners," she said, forcing a smile at her son, and happy for a distraction. "Erik, this is Henri. Henri, say hello to Erik," she said, forcing cheer into her voice, as she often had to do with her children, to be strong for them.
Henri peaked up from where he had been hiding his face. "Hello," he muttered quietly.
"Hello," Erik replied, unable to cloak his small smile. He had no doubt that it would frighten the child, but he could not help himself.
After a moment, Henri smiled back at him shyly. "Can you tell Erik how old you are?" Christine coaxed, rubbing his back comfortingly.
"I'm three," he said, holding up his fingers to verify.
"Oh, what a big boy you are," Erik replied, assuming the tone that one often employs when speaking to small children.
"Yes," he said, somewhat proudly, with a small nod. "That's Claire," he said, pointing to the sleeping baby in Christine's other arm.
"What a beautiful baby she is," he said more quietly. "How old is she?" he asked, unsure of who to direct his question at.
Henri looked up at his mother expectantly, question in his eyes. "5 months," Christine said, looking from her son to Erik. He nodded.
They are very beautiful," he said softly, gazing somewhat intensely into her eyes. "Christine, if you should ever need help, I live on the outskirts of the city, off of the main street."
"Oh, thank you," she said quietly, " I've been trying to find a job, but there aren't many..." she trailed off, sighing. While she met his gaze, she felt something... Some sort of spark... But what? It was completely new to her... Maybe she had just been lonely and longed for his companionship or friendship. Her love for Raoul... or what she knew to be love... still burned very strong, even in his death, and it pained her greatly that that love would never be returned again. She shifted Henri's weight in her arms, careful not to wake Claire; she knew she would be fussy when she woke up.
"Yes... I'm afraid not many people in Paris are looking for a woman to do their work... It will not be easy, Christine. You know this, I'm sure... In any case, I must be returning home," he said, nodding to the idle carriage which had just pulled up. "Please, if you are in need, do not hesitate to find me... I am still your angel of music..." He nodded to Christine and the children, turned, and walked to his carriage, not daring to look back.
Christine stood there, watching him go; reflecting over his words in her head. I am still your angel of music. Would he really follow through if she needed him? Would she really want to give up her integrity by asking for his help? In the back of her mind, Christine knew they would not be able to last long on their own, to her horror. She wished things weren't the way they were... But she had learned long ago that wishing got you nowhere.
It was true, that there wasn't work for woman in Paris... There was cooking, but she barely knew how; there was cleaning, but she knew little of that as well... She could go back to dancing in the opera, but her two pregnancies had left her body tired and she was by no means fit anymore; she had become quite frail during the struggle of the past few months. And of course... prostitution. Christine shook those thoughts out of her head though; she did not know if she would ever sink that low, or be able to sell her body, but if she needed to she knew she would do it... for her children; they were much more important than her values or her self.
As the carriage took Erik back to his home, he couldn't help but wonder whether she would ever take up his offer or not. Would she be too proud, or would she be sensible on the matter? She had been so altered over the past five years, he could simply not be sure. Her children certainly were lovely, so much so that he could hardly stand to be bitter over them.
She'd seemed quite surprised to see him; he did not believe that he had let his own thrill at seeing her show, which was not difficult. Strong as his excitement had been, he was quite used to masking his feelings. In any case, the only thing that he could do now was wait. Wait, and hope.
Please review, and we shall post more. Thanks