Initially, this story was going to be much longer, but I am likely going to make it very short and sweet. 10 chapters in total. When I started this story, I didn't have a plot for it...just vibes. And the vibes are telling me that it's definitely more novella than novel. :) Expect a very simple little story about two kids becoming best friends, and then a romantic epilogue with them as adults. Thank you!

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Antoinette did not even eat a proper breakfast before she left the following morning. According to Cook, she ate a slice of toast and jam, thanked him, and left for her journey. Christine did not get a chance to wish her safe travels. By the time she awoke, her governess was already gone.

Gustave, it seemed, was not pleased with that. He told his daughter that they should be forgiving, though, because the poor woman just lost her nephew and likely didn't have all of her wits about her. Christine knew that it had something to do with the conversation in the study last night, but of course she didn't say anything. To do so would have been to admit that she was somewhere she shouldn't have been.

So they breakfasted without her. Erik was there too. He hadn't come down for supper yesterday; Gustave had been away at a performance, and when Christine went to alert Erik of suppertime, Antoinette stopped her. She said she would have Sophie bring food up to him, instead.

Today, then, was the first time she got to really look at him with his shorter hair and better clothes. The part of his face she could see...goodness, he was actually handsome. His lips and nose had such a delicate, gentle shape to them, and she wished she could see his entire face like this. She might be tempted to stare at him all day.

She noted that he seemed abundantly more relaxed at the table without the presence of Antoinette. Christine didn't blame him; her governess had done nothing but watch him with suspicion since the moment he arrived here. He ate a little more, looked at them more often, and one one occasion, actually smiled when Gustave told a story about a man who tried to bring his pet goose into the Opera House.

When breakfast was over, her father had to go to the theatre. There was a day of practice before the performance, as the managers were unhappy with their performance last night. He asked Christine if she would be all right; he told her to let Sophie know if she needed anything. Christine nodded, accepted a kiss on the cheek, and watched him leave from the foyer window.

Before Gustave had left, Erik was standing in the archway behind her. But when she went to turn around to speak to him, he was no longer there. She suspected that he went upstairs to his room, so she made her way up and knocked on his door. She had suspected correctly. He opened the door a fraction and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Yes, Mademoiselle?"

She smiled. "Hello!"

He blinked, then looked down. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"No, I need no help. But it is only you and me today, unless you count Sophie and Cook, and I think I will be rather lonely without company. Would you like to spend the day together?"

He inhaled sharply, watching her with surprise. "You wish to spend time with me?"

"Yes."

"With me."

She frowned. Had she been unclear? Muttered? "Yes, Erik. I do. Is that all right?"

He swallowed. "Y-yes. That's all right. If that's what you wish, then I suppose we can do so."

Christine beamed. "Perfect! Would you like to come out so that we can...oh! I know! I can show you all of my books!"

That piqued his interest. "Your books?"

"Oh, yes. I love to read."

"Me too," he whispered. "I haven't read a book in years."

She was genuinely horrified by that. "Well then you simply must come with me right this instant so that we can find a book for you to enjoy! Come, come!"

At the authority in her tone, Erik bowed his head and dutifully left the room, closing the door behind him. Christine did not hesitate to grab his hand and drag him along behind her. His fingers went stiff in hers, every muscle seemed to calcify, but she did not turn to look at his expression (though, if she had, she would have seen shock and wonder at being so casually touched).

"Where are your books?" he asked, breathy voice strained.

"In the parlor! There's a little bookshelf in there all for me. You can read as many as you like!"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle."

"Please call me Christine!"

"Yes, Christine."

"And stop speaking to us as if you are a servant, too!"

"What- How do I speak as a servant?"

"The 'Yes, Christine' or 'no sir', all the time. You just respond to everything, so politely. You are a guest here, so act like it." She smiled back at him. His face was pale, except for his exposed cheek, which was flushed.

"Yes, Chr- er, all right."

"Better." She giggled and pulled him along a little faster.

Vaguely, he smiled too.

Erik chose three books to read; she told him he could get more, but he told her that he 'didn't want to impose'. She tried to convince him that it wasn't a problem, but he merely shook his head and said he would come back if he wanted more. At first, he was about to close the door to his bedroom to read, but before he could, she exclaimed, "Wait!"

He pushed the door back open fully, alarm in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I thought we might read together."

His eyes regarded her like he hadn't even considered this. "Oh - oh, yes, that's fine."

"I have a rather large, and very comfortable, rug in my room. Mme. Valerius doesn't like it when I sit down on it - but I do it anyway." She leaned in like she was conspiring. "She is not here, so we could sit on the floor and read. I have a book I am currently reading. The Mysterious Island. It is Jules Verne! It's quite good. You should read it once I am done."

Erik hesitated, but seeming not to want to disappoint her, he agreed to her plan. So he took one of the books - a translation of The Swiss Family Robinson - and followed her into her room.

Christine lowered herself to the floor, legs straight out in front of her. Erik merely stared down at her, arms rod-straight at his side. He looked around nervously, like a mouse finding itself on the perch of a cat. He looked toward the door. "Will your father be all right with me being in here?"

"I don't see why not! We are only reading. I think he will be pleased that I've shown you my books!"

"All right." Slowly, he went to the floor, crossing his legs.

Christine grinned and opened up her book. Erik watched her do so, then did the same. She began to read, and within seconds, she was lost in the imagined world of Verne.

They sat there for probably an hour - and Christine finally realized that perhaps her governess was right about the floor. Her behind was becoming sore by the second. She suggested moving down to the parlor, and Erik said that would be fine. He stood quickly, then looked at her with a funny expression. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"What is it?"

"I wanted to ask if you'd like help up, but I am not sure if you want my help or not."

"Oh thank you, yes. Getting up off the floor is terribly annoying in skirts." She held out her hand, and Erik took it. He helped her to her feet.

They made their way down the stairs, and continued their reading on the plush, comfortable sofas. They stayed that way for hours, barely speaking, only stopping to quickly eat supper in the dining room - all the while talking about the adventures of their characters. For the first time, a happy spark appeared in Erik's eyes, and Christine was delighted to see it.

They returned to the parlor as soon as they could.

When night approached, and without a governess to tell her what to do, she stayed up later than usual. She wasn't the least bit tired. It was nearly eleven at night when she heard the front door open.

"Papa?" she called.

Erik's eyes snapped up, and he blinked blearily, as though returning to the real world, remembering where and when he was.

"Are you still awake?" Her father walked in and grinned at her. "Curse Mme. Valerius's absence."

She smiled back. "Oh, yes. Erik and I are reading!"

"Making good use of your time, then." He nodded to Erik. "Enjoying Christine's collection?"

"Very much, sir, thank you."

"Well, don't thank me." In his right hand was the violin case. He moved it to his other hand, the instrument likely heavy. "Christine has excellent taste in literature."

She eyed the violin. "Would you play us something, Papa?"

Every so often, Gustave would grace Christine and Antoinette with a song, when he wasn't too tired. Lucky for her, they had a guest, for her father did not even hesitate before saying, "Oh, of course! Put the books down, children."

They did so. Gustave opened up the case and put it on the floor, by his feet, and positioned the violin under his chin.

"Any requests?" he asked with a warm smile.

"Something pretty!" Christine clapped her hands.

He chuckled. In truth, all of his songs were pretty. She had no preference. Christine looked at Erik, but he was watching Gustave with great interest.

Her father moved the bow across the strings, and beautiful music poured forth. Gustave closed his eyes, and he seemed just as lost to the world as Christine was with a book.

Christine loved her father's playing, but Erik was absolutely enthralled. He leaned forward, eyes wide and mesmerized. His breathing was heavy and steady, and his hands relaxed and clenched at his side, over and over again. She stared at him, more fascinated by her new companion's reaction than the music.

When the song ended, the spell on Erik evaporated. He leaned back, and there was indescribable emotion on his face. Christine looked at her father and clapped enthusiastically. "That was lovely, Papa!"

Gustave bowed with an exaggerated flourish. Christine grinned.

"It was beautiful, sir," Erik said softly. "You are very talented."

"Thank you, Erik."

"I wish I could play like that."

"Can you play at all?"

"A very little bit. I had a violin when I was smaller, but it has been a long time since I touched an instrument."

Christine noted suddenly that he spoke like an adult, even though he couldn't have been older than twelve.

Gustave looked at him a moment, then held out his violin to him. "Let me hear what you can do."

Erik looked horrified. "Oh - no! No, sir, thank you."

"I insist."

"I don't want to harm your violin. If I drop it, I'll never forgive-"

"I trust you won't drop it. You seem like the careful sort. Come. Try."

Erik bit his lip, but again not wishing to disobey the people who'd taken him in, he nodded. He stood and took the violin from Gustave. Now her father sat next to her, and she scooted in closer. He put an arm around her, then nodded to Erik.

Their little guest swallowed thickly, then positioned the violin and played.

Christine jumped.

Oh. He was good. He played incredibly well. Not as well as her father, but certainly better than she'd been expecting. A quick glance at her father told her that he was thinking the very same thing.

He only played for a minute or so before dropping the violin gently to his side, the instrument still held reverently in his hands. His eyes scanned their astonished faces. Distress passed over his expression. "I...hope it was to your liking."

"To our liking?" Gustave stood. "Erik - that was beautiful. It could use polishing, but..." Christine saw an idea form like light in his eyes. "Erik, since you will be staying here anyway, would you care for violin lessons?"

Erik's mouth dropped open, and then he closed it immediately after. He'd frozen, and the look of astonished joy in his eyes was that of someone being offered riches beyond comprehension. "You would teach me?"

"I would be honored."

He gripped the violin and bow a little tighter because, Christine saw, his hands had begun to tremble. "Yes - yes, sir!"