A/N: Thank you so much for the positive feedback; it is very encouraging.

Vanessa: Thank you, we greatly appreciate the compliment :)

On with the chap.

--Chels

Chapter Two

Christine sat beside Meg in the parlor of the Castelot-Barbezac home, sipping on her tea, as she and Meg waited for their husbands to finish up their last minute packing. Meg was in tears; she was positively a mess, but looked more beautiful than ever…she always seemed to have that glow about her; Christine felt a fresh wave of envy wash over her.

She began to mull over the previous night's events, for either the third or fourth time that morning, she could not be sure. She and Erik Deveraux had danced for the remainder of the ball, until it had ended and she began to bid goodbye to the required people, until only she and Monsieur Deveraux had remained — Raoul had been nowhere in sight, but that had been what she had expected. They had stepped out into the garden then, and had had quite a lovely conversation…at least until Raoul had stumbled into the picture hours later, drunk and smelling of a woman's perfume. It was at that time that she had been forced to bid him goodnight, ending the best evening she had been able to enjoy in a very long time.

"How will I survive without him?" moaned Meg, the tears she had fought so hard spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks.

"You will, Meg, you will…" Christine murmured as gently as possible, patting her hand. "You won't be completely without him; he will be able to send letters, and receive them."

"Yes, but he won't be able to hold me in his arms," sobbed Meg. "Or feel our baby kick." She flung herself at Christine, her shoulders shaking with passionate sobs. The dreadful, dreadful timing of this trip, right during when their first baby was to be born! She, Meg, would deliver Rudyard's child with he miles away from her. The very thought made her cry even harder.

Christine sighed, rubbing Meg's back. "Oh, Meg…it will be alright…They will come home as soon as they can."

"But he won't be back before the birth of the baby! I'll be all alone!"

"No you won't…I'll be there."

Meg continued to cry into Christine's shoulder until her husband appeared in the doorway, trunk in tow, his air somber.

"Meg, dear, please come here," he said quietly. "Don't act so mopey in front of your friend."

Meg did not need to be told twice; she rose from the couch and flew into Rudyard's arms, her sobs and pleas muffled as she nestled her head against his chest. "It's alright," he cooed softly, just as Raoul entered the room.

"We should be off soon," he announced to the room over Rudyard's comforting words.

"Quite right, I'm afraid," agreed Rudyard, turning his attention to his friend, though still holding Meg in his arms.

"Are you going to bid me goodbye, Christine?" asked Raoul in a slightly mocking fashion.

Christine sighed, reluctantly rising from the settee and crossing the room to where her husband stood. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a quick peck to his cheek. "Goodbye, Raoul," she murmured stiffly.

"Goodbye, Christine. I'm sure I will be missed." A smirk on his lips, he turned his attention to Rudyard and Meg, who were still entangled.

"You can't leave me," pleaded Meg softly.

Raoul cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable; at least Christine had not acted as Meg was. But of course, if she had acted in the same manner, Raoul would be questioning the condition of her mental health. He and the viscountess were not affectionate in the slightest, after all, quite the opposite at times, of Raoul's own initiation.

"I'll take care of your trunk, Rudyard," he mumbled, taking hold of the trunk handle and pushing past Christine to make his way to the idling carriage outside.

"I'll…be in the kitchen," muttered Christine, exiting the room hurriedly, for she did not wish to intrude upon the tender scene.

"It's only for a little while, sweetheart," Rudyard murmured softly, "I'll be home before you know it…"

"I hope so," she said, closing her eyes, causing more tears to spring from her eyes. "He said you have to go…Give me a kiss goodbye."

He gave her a small smile of reassurance, before cupping her face in his hands and placing a long, tender kiss to her lips. "I love you." He moved to kneel before her, pressing a kiss to her belly. "And I love you as well."

"By the time you return, we'll have a baby," she said, smiling through her tears and placing a small hand on his shoulder. "Something to look forward to…I love you."

Pressing one last kiss to her belly, he straightened up, wrapping an arm around her waist; his free hand resting on her stomach. "You know I wouldn't leave unless I had no other choice. I want nothing more to be here with you and the baby…"

"Yes, I know," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I understand. We'll be fine, Trust me." She pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Go on now; you can't be late. Do write."

"Everyday that I can. I promise." He kissed her lips once more, holding her close. "I love you so…"

"And I love you… Go on," she said, trying not to let me see the fresh tears welling in her eyes. "Monsieur de Chagny is waiting."

----------

Following Rudyard's carefully laid out instructions, Erik made his way through the light London rain from his home to the de Chagny estate, where he was told the women would now be, the men having left earlier that day; Erik had always enjoyed the rain, and the two houses were close enough to simply walk. Just outside the city, the residences were connected by a country dirt road, a good sized field laying between them.

As the rain turned the slightest bit more violent, Erik reached the entrance to the estate and rapped his gloved knuckles against the ornately carved wood of the front door.

Who on earth would be calling…? Christine set down the book she had been reading, beginning to make her way to the front door. It wasn't as if she knew anyone who would call on her; most, even all, of their callers were for Raoul, save Meg, and it had been announced that he was out of the country for business.

Looking through the door's peephole, she saw Erik Deveraux standing there. Curious. Undoing the lock heavy lock, she threw open the door. "Monsieur Deveraux," she greeted warmly, "what a surprise."

Erik frantically raked his mind for a reason, trying not to allow himself to be distracting by how lovely she looked, her blouse a crisp white and her skirt a rich navy blue. "Oh, I thought I'd drop in to be certain that you and the baroness were doing alright after your husbands' departure. May I come in? Or, of course, you could turn me away," he added with a slight smile. "Whichever your prefer."

She smiled, opening the door wider and beckoning him inside. "Please, come in."

He stepped inside the house, removing his lightly soaked cloak and hat. "I don't mean to intrude; I'm just…concerned."

"That is kind of you. We're both fine, although Meg is quite upset…"

"Yes, that is to be expected; she and the baron are quite close, indeed. Where is she?"

"Upstairs resting at the moment. Come, let us move into the parlor. May I get you anything?"

"Oh, I am fine. I really hope you don't mind my dropping in, but I thought you could use a bit of company."

"I could indeed," she replied warmly with a smile.