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: Of course I wouldn't be upset with you. You are my biggest fan. Thanks again!
Phantomfan1911: You flatter me too much! Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Your words of praise mean a lot. Hope that I didn't keep you waiting for too long . . .
Chapter Fourteen
If Raoul had any guesses as to Christine's real whereabouts during the past two weeks, he hid them cunningly. The weeks following his return, Raoul was ceaselessly doting to Christine. It seemed that each morning renewed the passion he held for his wife. Christine found herself being whisked away into their bedroom at odd times of the day. His hands found ways to touch and caress her at every opportunity they were together. It was like the first months of their marriage. This time, Raoul was more confident in his pursuit. At first, Christine tried to relish in the moment. Intimacy was what she craved most when she sought Erik out. Now, receiving what she had wanted all along, she felt nothing but guilt for what she had done. If Raoul were to find out, Christine feared he would take Jean and leave her.
Jean was more of a delight to her, as well. Before, she could only see how much he was like Raoul. Becoming more active in his life caused her to see how painfully similar he was to her. They shared the same dislike of green vegetables. Given a choice, they would both choose to sing and dance to music instead of playing with toys. While Jean's temperament was more like Raoul's, whenever he wanted something Christine would notice him using the same pouting and coyness she had been using her whole life to get whatever she wanted. His smile was the best. Christine had never noticed his bright face shine has he looked to her for approval. Her heart would drop every time she remembered what she wanted Erik to do – to take her away from all of this. Erik was right. She needed to be a good mother to Jean. She wouldn't have wanted to miss watching Jean grow up for anything that Erik could have offered her.
Raoul had always been proud of his wife and would try to show her off. The community they lived in was full of the richest families in the province. He always tried to spoil her with exquisite dresses and overdone hats, but she would always turn his gifts away. As much as she tried to accept that she was now in a position where refinement and elegance were expected of her, a small voice cried from within her that would stop her from getting carried away with herself. Her father, though widely renowned, had always been modest and never acknowledged his place in society. He was content to live like the charming wallflower of a glorious party. Christine was trying to teach herself to do the same.
Their neighbors to the left, the Pountiff's, had been successful in the fragrance industry. It was no small secret that their house was the largest and most lavish. Many times, Raoul, Christine and Jean would meet them for tea or dinner upon their invitation. It was usually a meeting of various well-to-dos discussing their manly importance and their wives sharing fashion tips from Paris and London, or braggin about the latest gift their husbands had bought for them.
But everyone would fall silent for the hostess of the parties. Richelle Annabelle Marie Rocquefort Pountiff was very proper and conducted herself in such a manner that made Christine extremely uncomfortable while in her presence. Unlike most of the women here, she did not marry into wealth, she was born into it. Her father was the sole proprietor of the business and Richelle was his only heir. She carried herself with self-importance and, too often, was not afraid to tell people exactly what she thought of everything. It was not uncommon for her to wear the finest silk on a routine trip to the town square or a casual brunch with close friends. Her silky black hair was always drawn up in elaborate twists and knots, usually adorned with exotic flowers or jewels. Richelle throughly relished in the fact that she was the model in which most of Champigny's women drew inspiration from.
Her husband, Gustoff, was very warm and charismatic, almost the exact opposite personality of his wife. The entire community speculated about the intentions of her marriage to Gustoff, who, it was widely known, came from a relatively poor, unknown family. It was even rumored that his family was once the hired help to Richelle's family. His background, though, was easy to look past. It wasn't hard to see why Richelle might have been drawn to him. He had a very elegant face and a gentle smile that could immediately put anyone at ease. He exuded charm and was well received by everyone whom he met. Although Richelle was a bit trying at times, he was always patient and delicate with her. Richelle never reciprocated his affection, but Christine thought that the motivation for him staying had more to do with her position in life than with her demeanor. Nevertheless, Raoul always looked forward to meeting with him. Christine was rather fond of him as well.
They were childless, Christine assumed, on Richelle's request. It was not a hidden fact that Richelle detested the mere presence of children. Each time Raoul and Christine would call upon them, Richelle would insist that Jean could not stay home then he should remain in the kitchen where, she said, he would not make a mess of her house. Christine would always have to quietly accept Richelle's backhanded comments and bold rudeness. When she first arrived, she needed to make a good impression with Raoul's circle of acquaintances. Richelle held a great deal of power and authority. Now, ever so much more protective of her family, especially Jean, Christine feared what would come out of her mouth should the opportunity arise.
Right after the start of the New Year, an invitation arrived at the house asking for Raoul and Christine to attend a dinner the next night. The entire morning before their meeting, Christine's nerves had the best of her. Her head was throbbing during breakfast. The trepidation of that evening did not sit well with her stomach as she picked at her food. The smell of the jam alone sent her insides whirling with discomfort. Jean laughed at her when she gagged trying to swallow her croissant. Raoul, alarmed, asked, "Are you all right, dear?"
"Yes," she coughed into her napkin. Setting her croissant back on her plate, she confessed, "It's that dreadful woman, Raoul. I – I don't know if I can do this today."
"I know. I know. We only get but one invitation a month, if then! We were lucky! They skipped the entire month of December. It's seems like an eternity since we've seen anyone. I am sure people are talking. You know we have to do this." Raoul sighed. "Just think, after today we have another month to ourselves. Besides, I have been looking forward to meeting with Gustoff. It's been ages," he said as he gazed upon Christine with just eagerness that she laughed in spite of herself.
"I know, dear. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be selfish." Christine forced herself to smile back at him. "It's just – the way she talks, and the way she treats Jean - "
"I understand, Christine. He's my son, too. It's hard not to get angry with her. I never thought it bothered you before. But the invitation is only for the two of us. Jean will be fine to stay here for the night. I am sure the cook would love to have him to herself for a while. You've been hoarding him to yourself lately," he teased.
"Just making up for lost time," Christine answered softly. She tried picking at her breakfast once again. After the second attempt, she pushed her plate to the side and smiled at Raoul and Jean.
Raoul started, but thought better of himself. Only after prodding from Christine did he continue. "It seems you've been making up for more than just that, Christine. I'll be honest. I have been worried for quite some time. That's why I thought we needed this holiday. You were so disenchanted here, I know. The entire time I spent away from you only cemented in my heart how much I truly love you. When I left you at Paris, I thought to myself, 'This is it! She will finally leave me.' And then I saw you standing there waiting for us . . . there aren't words that could describe – You looked so beautiful."
Christine gently brought her hand to his cheek, "I was worried for us, too. This has been a brand new start for the both of us. I came out of Paris a new woman. I love you, Raoul. This will work. I promise, I'll be better." Raoul kissed the palm of her hand and he and Jean finished their meal, but Christine could still feel her stomach wrenching.
They kissed Jean goodnight as made their way to the mansion perched at the top of the lane. Christine's feet were like lead as she dragged them up each stone step. When they reached the door, she felt lightheaded and gave off a moist sweat from her brow. Raoul was able to grab her arm before she collapsed, "Christine!" Raoul led her to a bench in the garden near the walkway and started wiping her face with his handkerchief he kept in his left pocket. "You look so pale, my love. Why didn't you tell me you are ill? I thought you were just trying to avoid coming here. I'll tell Gustoff we will come when you are better."
"Oh, Raoul," Christine shooed him off laughing. "Don't be silly! I should have finished breakfast. Or had a bigger lunch. We are at their front door for goodness sakes! I am sure I will feel better once I have eaten." Raoul looked uncertain, but rang the bell regardless.
Christine and Raoul handed their overcoats to the maid and were astonished to discover the elegance being set in the dining room. The very best china was laid out and huge bouquets filled the room. As Raoul and Christine were being led into the sitting room, Christine began to fret over her dress and hair. She kept checking her reflection in every reflective surface she walked by. Raoul was right, she was pasty. With her skin so pale, she looked almost transparent. Pulling on a curl that stuck to her face, she had to wonder if she should have been getting ready instead of playing with Jean. Raoul had to grab her hands before she would stop playing with her looks. "You look beautiful, darling," Raoul whispered to her. After he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "It wasn't fair of her to not let us know. Don't let her see you fuss like this. That is what she wants to see."
"We're letting her make us look like idiots, Raoul! This is why we should invite them to dinner. That way there will be less surprises." As she finished forcefully whispering her sentence, both Raoul and Christine were stunned that they were the only ones in the room. Before Raoul could ask where the other guests were, the maid shut the door behind her. Christine sat down in a huff. Raoul tried to comfort her as best he could, but despite his best intentions, Christine could feel her face growing hotter by the second. She finally turned to Raoul and snapped, "Am I wrong in assuming that we will be the only ones at dinner tonight?"
The doors suddenly opened and the first thing Christine notice was the striking indigo dress that Richelle had on. She offered her hand to Raoul who kissed her gloved fingers as lightly as he could. She then strutted to Christine, placed her hands on her shoulders and kissed each side of Christine's face. Before pulling away, Richelle whispered, you look absolutely quaint, darling." She got up and smiled at Raoul and Christine before leading them into the dining room.
Dinner was spent quietly among Christine and Richelle as Raoul and Gustoff told tales of their latest triumphs in hunting. Over her wine glass Christine tried not to notice Richelle smirking softly at her. Eager to please Raoul, Christine held her tongue and kept quiet throughout all the courses. She was relieved that Richelle made no effort to carry on a conversation. After dessert Gustoff and Raoul headed to the parlor for drinks. Christine tried to follow, but Richelle led her away.
"You look fabulous tonight, my dear. You must tell me who made this dress for you. The design is to die for, although I do not care for your choice in fabric." Richelle laughed, "But silly me, I keep forgetting, you are a mother. It must be extraodinarily durable. I am sure it will last you a very long time." She smiled brazenly at Christine. "I do spoil myself, though. Gustoff was just telling me that I have too many made. I must admit, most times, I don't even bother wearing them again. Takes the fun out of it all, don't you think?" Richelle gazed at herself in the mirror. "There is nothing like talking a new dress out of a box just to show off a bit."
Christine modestly smoothed the front of her dress. "It is a shame, though," Richelle continued. "You used to be so small and tiny before you had your child. But, I must say, this look does suit you. I mean, those ruffles up front are so clever." Richelle leaned in closer, "Hides all your flaws." She winked at Christine. As indignant as Christine was to these comments, she remained silent and composed. Richelle led her into the parlor. "Come, we talk too much. Our husbands are waiting. Let's hear what stories they are stretching now."
Christine quickly joined Raoul's side, squeezing his hand in anger. Raoul understood and stroked a piece of hair that had fallen out behind her ear, winking at her. Richelle still smiled slyly at Christine. Turning her attention to Raoul, she asked, "It is good to see you back. Did you enjoy your stay at your parents?"
"We did, thank you. It was a welcome retreat." Raoul smiled nervously.
"Did you enjoy yourself, Christine?"
Raoul quickly answered for her, "She did not accompany us, Richelle, as I am sure you know."
"Oh, yes. Where was that again? Paris, right!" Richelle playfully slapped her leg with the fan she was carrying on her wrist. "You know, Christine, as soon as I found out from Gustoff that you were going to comemmorate your past glory, I had to see if I could attend! My father was a patron of the Opera Populaire once, you know," she said to Raoul. She turned back to Christine, "But it was strange, I couldn't find anything of the sort in any of the society pages. It must have been a select grouping."
"As a matter of fact, yes, Richelle, it was," Christine stammered.
"Well, that must have been quite a room, then! 'Paris' Elite Celebrates Tragic Diva' I can just imagine the headlines! There were so many of us here that would have loved to attend," Richelle continued to stare Christine down.
"I am sorry, Richelle, I barely had enough notice as it was without thinking of seeing if you could have been added," Christine coyly answered back. "I will be sure to ask well in advance should the opportunity come again." Her voice slightly quivered was she finished her last sentence. Christine noticed that the room that was once bright was becoming dimmer with every minute. Her breathing became labored.
Panic quickly ensued and Christine found her face was growing hotter each second. Seeing Christine becoming flushed once again, Raoul stepped into the conversation. "Madame Pountiff," Raoul angrily interjected, "Now I have had enough of this little inquisition you are subjecting my wife to. What business is it of yours what my wife does or attends? I believe that if you were wanted, you would have been invited. Does that answer satisfy you?" Christine's head began throbbing again.
"Well, I suppose it does, Viscount," Madame Pountiff sharply answered back. Gustoff looked sympathetically at Raoul and Christine, but did not intervene. Richelle continued, "I just have to say that I found it strange that there was no mention about it in the paper. I was simply stating an observation. I do not understand where this anger is coming from, and I will not stand for it in my house!"
Christine had grown pale and appeared withered. "Sorry, Gustoff," Raoul said as he was rising, "But until you can manage your wife's manners and tongue, I think this has been quite enough for this evening." Raoul stood up, furious, and demanded the maid for their belongings.When Christine rose, the room began to spin and sweat encased her body. Before she could stop herself from falling, she remembered everything fading to black.
Her head was swimming and it seemed an awesome feat just to open her eyes. She was in her own bed when she awoke. Christine could see the concerned look on Raoul's face as he was talking to the doctor in the doorway. To her surprise, she saw Raoul excitedly hug him and run into the bedroom. He came to her side and caressed her hair. Picking up her hand, he kissed it and whispered to her, "A baby, Christine. We are having another a baby!"