Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.
Phanatic: I guess a better word would be "lively." Your messages are just too much fun!
vixen519: Thanks for reading! To clarify, in Ch. 1 Christine is able to "escape" their yearly family vacation by forging an invitation for a gala she is supposed to attendin Paris. Raoul and Jean take their vacation and drop Christine off in Paris where she gets into loads of trouble.Raoul and Jeanreturn in this chapter. HTH . . . :-)
Chapter Twelve
She had never imagined Erik's life as a child. Yet it was the only thing she was able to think about the past few days. "Surely," she thought, "He must have been a child sometime during his life, you silly twit, Christine!" But it was hard for her to separate the man she had fallen in love with to a poor, helpless and defenseless child she heard Father Rapier speak of. It was easier for her to still envision Erik as the strong, albeit emotionally repressed, genius that fed passion into her life. He was ever so much older than her, which made their relationship unique. His dominance over Christine allured her. She hated to admit it, but she craved the subvert manipulation. Erik was one of very few men in her life that Christine allowed to dictate anything to her. Inside she was torn, still, by her innate love for Erik and the betrayal he committed against her innocence.
Christine had not found the closure she had so desperately sought out to find these past two weeks. Instead, she found herself questioning her inner voice at every moment. Christine wanted to help Erik in as much has she could be allowed. It would take valuable time and resources that Christine wouldn't be able to hide from Raoul. She knew he would disapprove of any other unescorted trips. Christine did not know how she would be able to find any more information from the comfort of her chateau. Father Rapier never fully explained to her why he was in search of this information. Erik could never be coerced into doing or feeling anything beyond what he set his own mind to do or feel. The hostility he showed, Christine reasoned, was justified. He had so many hardships in just his earliest stages of his life that most people would never dream of enduring in a lifetime. But her curiosity was peaked as well. Knowing Erik's past could help her understand her own. She would feel privileged to be one of very few people to learn of his history.
After returning from the convent, Christine had spent her last four nights in Paris resting at the hotel and gathering her strength. She never changed out of her nightclothes. All of her meals were brought to her room where she could dine in privacy. The solitude suited her. Christine would have to enjoy the tranquility as greatly as she could. She knew that in just a few days time she would once again be in Raoul's house surrounded by the chaos that comes with such a young family. Christine tried not to be bitter about returning there. Her time alone went too quickly, she kept thinking to herself as each day passed. Francois would be coming next morning to take her back to Champigny.
She slowly packed her remaining clothing in the big black trunk at the foot of her bed. The shoulder Christine had dislocated was still tender. It took great effort to move it back and forth. Bearing any small amount of weight caused it to buckle if she forgot to support it properly. After she placed her last dress in and closed the lid, Christine sat on top of it, dazed. The past two weeks had been hard for her, both physically and mentally. What merely started as a quest to find her mentor left Christine in a greater quandary than when she had begun. Hoping to clear her mind, Christine drew one last bath for her body to relax and heal. Her muscles were still stiff and sore.
As she labored trying to draw the water for her bath, Christine wondered if she should ask for service from the hotel maids. It was only after she came close to asking that she was stricken with the realization of how easy her life really was. Raoul's wealth and privilege provided her with people who satisfied her every whim and desire. But it wasn't only after she came into money. During the entirety of her life, Christine never had to take care of herself. Her father doted upon her. As his only child, Christine could ask the world of her father and he would be only too obliged to accommodate her requests. After his death, Madame Giry overcompensated and did everything Christine could ever need or ask for. While she danced in the ballet troupe, Meg was always quick to help her learn new forms and routines. And then there was Erik. Christine never wanted for anything. There was always someone there to help her and show her the way.
While the bathtub was being filled, Christine inspected herself in the mirror. The bruises, while not as dark and apparent as they were a few days ago, were still yellowed and looked menacing. She could only hope that they would disappear before Raoul and Jean returned home. Even if the household staff noticed, Christine knew that they wouldn't say anything to her husband. She could trust them to be discreet.
Christine could not get comfortable that last night. Though her body still ached with pain, she tossed and turned beneath the bedcovers. Her body, like her mind, could not keep still. All the events in the past two weeks played over and over again in her mind; Meg's hostility and suffering indifference she held in regards to the value of Christine's life, Erik's newfound gentleness and tender touch, the completeness Christine felt in the night she spent with him, the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around her, the feeling of her body nestled into his, and the liberating satisfaction that they both desperately sought with the fulfillment of their lust. But it was Erik's cold goodbye that left Christine in tears as she tried to fall asleep.
The piercing sun that peeked from between the curtains caused Christine to grimace. She felt as though she had just fallen asleep. Though she wanted to remain in bed for a few moments longer, a knock on the door woke her from her half-dazed state. "Enter!" Christine called.
A small girl entered the room. Dressed in her uniform, she curtsied to Christine, "Milady, your carriage and horseman awaits you."
Christine propped herself on her elbows, "Very well, mademoiselle. Please tell the driver that I will be down in a few moments time. Then tell the bellman he may come for my things."
"Yes, Viscountess," the maid curtsied again and shut the door behind her. Christine sighed and thumped back onto her pillow. She looked at the dress she laid out on her bed the night before. Christine could not postpone her departure any longer. Reluctantly, she rose to wash her face in the lavatory. The bellman took her chest down after she dressed. The sky was almost clear as Christine looked over the Paris horizon. The morning sun had turned the clouds a vibrant pink and orange. Breathing the crisp morning air, Christine laughed heartily as she exhaled. From her balcony, Christine could look into the courtyard of the town's square. The largest fountain was already full of little children playing in the water as their mothers were bartering in the marketplace. As children, she and Meg played here countless times. Christine felt relieved reminiscing of good memories of her life from so many years ago. She smiled quietly at it. The familiarty of the hustle in Paris was comforting. Though she knew she would miss it after she left, Christine knew her heart would always belong here.
Descending down the stairs, Francois bowed deeply to her, "Viscountess," before looking up with a mischieveous smile on his face.
Christine laughed, gently slapping Francois' arm when she reached him. "To address me so formal." His familiar face eased her anxiety. "Raoul will have to have a few words with you, I think." She smiled genuinely at him. When she caught him staring at the remenants of her injuries, she haughtily said, "Oh, they are nothing. I just fancied a ride through a lovely little pasture and my horse was a bit rambunctious is all." Christine laughed nervously. "They should be gone before the Viscount is home. Let's not worry too much over it, please," Christine pleaded, winking at Francois.
After a stunned silence, Francois quickly hid his concern and courteously bowed again, "Of course, milady. Whatever your wish . . . it is my honor to serve you."
Christine laughed again, "That's it, you insubordinate buffoon! I will teach you to make a mockery of me! Twenty lashes should set your manners right!" The other guests looked on in bewilderment as Francois and Christine ran out of the lobby laughing hysterically.
The chateau still stood as an empty reminder to Christine of what her life was to become. As she entered the embellished home she shared with Raoul, her soul did find a small amount of comfort being surrounded by her belongings. The ride with Francois put her good spirits back in order. As she entered the foray, Christine stopped at a small marble figure near the double sweeping staircase. Tracing her gloved fingers over the small statue carving of Jean, she was surprised at how heartsick she was to see him again. Raoul had it commissioned for Jean's first birthday as a special present to Christine.
The bedroom was on the second level of the house. Every step caused Christine's back to strain with spasms. She politely whisked away the help Geniveve, he handmaiden, offered her with the wave of her hand and a warm smile. Wearily, she pushed herself to crawl to the end of the hallway. Christine threw herself on her soft bed and stared at the slanted ceiling for a while, daydreaming to herself. She still could not keep Erik from her mind. He had given her pleasure that was unparalleled to anything she has felt her entire life. She did not even realize that she was crying again. Quickly, she caught her tears with her fingers admonishing herself to grieve over this. "Erik was right," Christine told herself. "This is where I belong."
Thankful to still be alive, Christine wanted to make good on her second chance. She made an oath to herself to honestly try harder at her marriage and motherhood. Raoul did not deserve the cold treatment he received from Christine. She decided to use what little time left of her vacation to dedicate to her new endeavor.
During the next week Christine diligently tried harder at her housework as she awaited the arrival of her husband and child. In order to fill her days, she appointed herself tasks and new things to learn. After countless hours, her crochet had finally started to look presentable. She reorganized Jean's toys and clothes virtually everyday trying to make it perfect. She even took it upon herself to meet with Nadina, the head cook, to learn how to prepare Raoul's favorite dish. Christine was determined to begin this life anew. She wanted to make Erik proud and she promised to herself that she would be the best mother and wife she knew how to be. Though she was still lonely for him, she did her best to purge him from her thoughts most days.
There were butterflies in her stomach when she saw the dirt cloud over the hills. Christine was like a schoolgirl waiting for the first day of school. Eager to see them both, she found herself skipping along the corridors of the house. Christine primped in front of the mirror. Nadina simply shook her head in laughter seeing Christine this flustered. She chose to wear a strikingly gorgeous red silk gown, Raoul's favorite shade on her. Her hair had been swept up in a bun, more fitting to the role of wife than letting her tresses down and free. In every way, she wanted to present herself a loving and loyal wife.
Inside her heart was jumping when the carriage pulled up to the front of the house. As soon as the Francois opened the door, Jean screamed, "Mama!" His bright blue eyes twinkled at her. He ran to Christine and pulled her down by her skirts to give her a tight hug. "Miss you, Mama?" he cooed to her, pointing at his chest.
She was trying to contain the tears that had already spilled on her cheeks. "Of course I missed you, Jean." Christine rumpled Jean's hair as she got up to greet Raoul. She heard Jean scream, "Dina!" as he ran into the cook's arms. Christine turned back to see her husband emerge from the coach. The smile on her face glowed when she met him. Not caring who saw, she pulled him close and gave him a passionate embrace. Though he was surprised, Raoul quickly recovered and held her snug against him. When she pulled away, she whispered to him, "I missed you, too."
Raoul smiled back down to her. "Apparently," he chuckled. "I don't believe I ever been greeted with such a warm reception." Raoul picked Jean up and held him with one arm. "It is good to be home, isn't it Jean?" Raoul asked him while winking at Christine.
"Yes, Papa," Jean jubilantly answered his father. "Mama home. Dina and Geni home. Doggy home. Toys home." He pointed to his chest. "Jean home!" Christine and Raoul both laughed.
"Yes, yes. Jean's home!" Raoul cried out to him. Taking Christine's hand into his, he started leading them into the house. "Well I hope that your mother didn't find herself too lonely while we were away. I know I have been lonely for her." He tenderly looked to Christine. "Tell me, love, how was it reliving old days again?"
Christine stopped in her tracks. "Could Raoul know?" she asked inside her mind. Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, she stuttered, "Why, Raoul, wh- what do you mean? Old days!" She laughed nervously.
"The gala, dear. That is why you stayed behind, right?"
"Oh! The gala!" Christine was instantly relieved. "Yes, the gala was fine." She started removing Jean's overcoat. "More of a small get-together, really. Seems I have fallen out of favor these past few years. But, no matter!" She turned back to Raoul. "I had a wonderful time going through the streets of Paris once again. But I have a few things here that I couldn't do without. As much I may miss that life, my place is here with you and Jean."
Raoul walked to her side. He held both of her small hands in his. After gently kissing her forehead, he whispered to her, "I love you, darling. Truly, you are my heart. You must know that." Christine felt warm from his gaze. Smiling, Raoul quickly turned to Jean and growled, "Papa is going to get you!" Jean screamed and ran down the hallway with Raoul chasing after him.
Christine stood stoic, only able to smirk a sad smile. "This will be harder than I thought," she told herself.