Chapter Summary: Raoul and Christine leave Paris for Chagny but not before he contacts his attorney and banker. We are introduced to Arthur Weldon, Philippe's steward. And Raoul and Christine arrive at Chagny
CHAPTER THREE
Raoul sat at the ornate desk in his study and signed his name to the paper resting in front of him. He sighed and shook his head as he put the pen down. He lifted up the fine linen stationery, blowing gently on the drying ink and wondered if he was doing the right thing. Raoul put the paper back on the blotter and folded it carefully, slipping it into an envelope that he had previously addressed. He wondered if he was doing the right thing and as he pressed his sigil into the melted wax he had dripped onto the linen envelope Raoul knew it did not matter. He had done it and it was over with and now all that was left was to get the envelope to his banker. He picked up two more envelopes from his desk, one addressed to his attorney and one unmarked. Raoul stood and walked to the door, he opened it and looked into the hallway.
"Pierre," Raoul called to a well-dressed man coming down the hallway.
The man stopped and waited as Raoul left his study, closing the door behind himself. "What is it you require of me?" Pierre Martin, Raoul's personal assistant waited for his instructions.
"Would you please take this envelope," Raoul handed one of the three envelopes he held to Pierre, "and deliver it to my banker." He handed Pierre the second envelope. "This one must go to my attorney." Raoul kept the unaddressed envelope in his hands. "They must be delivered today and I am trusting you to see that it is done."
"It will be as you requested," Pierre said with a nod. "Do you and Madame still plan to leave on the morrow?"
Raoul sighed and nodded. "We shall be leaving first thing in the morning and I do not know how long we will be gone. Just do as you have always done and keep the house open and ready for our return."
Pierre had been with the family for years and had known Raoul since he was a young man wondering what university to attend. Pierre had seen Raoul through his burgeoning interest in being an active patron of the arts. He had supported the young man in his desire to marry Christine and now was praying that whatever was causing the tension between the young couple would be resolved during their trip to the country. Pierre wanted to see his young employers return from the country with smiles replacing the solemn looks they now wore on their faces. He was very loyal and quite fond of them.
"I shall go at once," Pierre replied, "and I shall report to you when I return."
"Thank you," Raoul said and thought quietly for a moment. "Do you know where my wife is?"
"She is in her sitting room," Pierre said with a nod as he walked toward the front door.
Raoul stood quietly for a moment, studying the unmarked envelope in his hands. Another decision that would affect Christine, that would affect both of them and he had once again taken it into his own hands. He wondered if it would be yet another thing that would further distance Christine from him.
"There is only one way to discover if that is true," Raoul said softly, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the house, turning left down a small hallway, pausing at the door at the end of the hall. He raised his hand and knocked lightly.
"Come," Christine's voice called out.
Raoul fixed what he hoped was a sincere smile on his face, twisted the glass knob and opened the door.
He found Christine on the window seat, her back resting against the window sash, staring out at the street that ran in front of the house. She had her hands crossed over stomach in a restful position and a faraway look on her face, her hair worn lose, cascading around her shoulders. Raoul stood quietly for a moment, watching her, his smile softening, becoming sincere. He may not have understood what he had done wrong but at that moment Raoul was certain of one thing - he would always love that angel, surrounded by the glow of early spring sunshine, sitting in the window.
"May I speak with you?" Raoul asked softly.
Christine finally turned her head, her look going from faraway to slightly apprehensive. "Of course," she replied, setting her spine for what she was sure would be another disagreement.
The change in expression on his wife's face nearly broke Raoul's heart. "I have something I wish to share with you," he said as he walked across the room to sit on the opposite side of the window seat, careful to keep distance between himself and Christine. He handed the unmarked envelope to her.
Christine held the envelope in her hands, looking at it curiously, before raising her eyes to look at Raoul. "What is this?" she asked.
"Open it."
Christine opened the envelope and pulled out two slips of paper. She looked at them, a frown creasing her delicate features. "Train tickets?" Christine whispered.
"When you agreed to come with me to Chagny," Raoul began, "you did not seem all that fond of making the trip by coach. I wanted to find something to make this trip easier for you. We can take the train as far as Lyon and then it will be an easy overnight coach ride to Chagny."
Christine was silent for a moment as she stared at the tickets in her hands. She finally raised her head and reached across the small distance to embrace her husband. She heard Raoul sigh as she wrapped her arms about his neck. "Thank you," she whispered to him and drew back before her emotions overran her common sense and she said something she could not take back. Christine managed a small smile. "This is very kind of you considering ..."
"Stop there," Raoul said with a shake of his head. "Let me at least have the illusion that you still feel something for me."
"I do," Christine tried assuring her husband. "I do feel something for you."
"There is at least that," Raoul replied, taking his wife's hand and raising it to gently brush his lips against her knuckles. "I will go and see that everything is ready for tomorrow." He rose and walked out of the room.
Christine watched him go and stared for a long while at the closed door. "Oh Raoul," she sighed as she turned back to watch the world beyond her window.
The next morning found men carrying luggage from the town house and placing it carefully on the coach that waited out front. Christine stood on the stairs with her maid, Marie, giving last minute directions.
"I do not think I have forgotten to pack anything, Madame," Marie was saying.
Christine smiled at the young woman who was barely older than herself. She had known Marie from her time at the opera and felt comfortable with the girl who had worked in the costume department. After the fire - and before her wedding - Christine had located Marie with the help of Madame Giry and offered the girl a job as her personal maid. Marie had been overwhelmed with the offer that came just as she had been about to return to her family who lived not far from the northern city of Boulogne. She had accepted the job and quickly became the ideal companion for a young woman who was also learning the ways of her own new position in life.
"I know you have not," Christine assured the girl with a smile and gentle touch on her arm. "I want you to enjoy your free time while we are gone."
"I should be going with you," Marie said.
Christine actually managed a small laugh - the first one in nearly three weeks. "I am not that far gone from the backstage of the opera house to have forgotten how to dress and care for myself." She gave Marie a quick hug. "Now promise me you will have a lovely time while I am gone but you will still be here when we return."
Marie nodded. "It is a promise, Madame."
Raoul stood at the bottom of the staircase, out of sight of the women standing on it, but not far enough away that he did not hear the small laughs coming from his wife. The musical laugh brought a smile to his face for a brief moment before he returned his attention to Pierre who was standing with him.
"Everything is set?" Raoul wondered.
Pierre nodded his head slightly, handing Raoul a sealed envelope. "The banker assures me that this is all that you will require."
Raoul took the envelope and slipped it inside his jacket. "And my attorney?"
"Awaiting your word, Monsieur."
"May God grant that I never give it," Raoul whispered under his breath and returned his attention to Pierre. "I leave this house and its care in your hands."
"May you and Madame have an easy trip and a pleasant time in the country," Pierre replied. "And extend my regards to your brother."
"Thank you," Raoul told him. "I shall." He turned to find Christine standing on the bottom stair waiting for him. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Christine told him and she took the arm that Raoul extended. All her senses cried out to her, urging Christine to throw her arms about her husband and tell him what she knew. She knew he would understand but she could not bear to see the look in his eyes when she told him. Instead, Christine gave Raoul a stiff smile and walked with him out the front door and into the waiting coach. She climbed in and settled onto the velvet cushions. Christine drew a deep breath as her husband entered the coach. She slid slightly to the right so that Raoul could sit next to her. She heard the click of the door as Pierre closed it and heard him give the order to the driver. The coach jerked forward slightly and settled into an easy motion as it moved toward the train station.
And Christine's gloved hand reached out to cover her husband's - a telling gesture.
The ride through the early morning streets of Paris was smooth and easy. The city was in the last stages of waking to the new day, stretching its arms and moving its legs as people exited their homes, street markets arrayed their wares to best advantage and shops opened their doors. Paris became vibrant as its citizens filled their beloved city with life. Christine and Raoul watched the city and its people through separate windows, not willing to look at each other. The only sign that each was aware there was another in the coach were the two hands that rested gently on each other and the velvet cushion.
Finally the coach drew into the train station in the center of Paris. The driver slowed, stopping at the front entrance. A man dressed in uniform quickly moved to open the door, waiting as Raoul exited the coach. Raoul turned to take Christine's hand and helped her alight before turning to the uniformed man.
"We are in sleeper coach two," he said and handed the man the tickets, "on the nine a.m. to Lyon."
"Oui, Monsieur," the man replied and looked up at the driver. "The porters can be found around the left."
The driver tipped his hat and directed the coach around the left of the huge building. Christine took Raoul's arm and they followed the uniformed man, waiting until he opened the door, allowing them to enter the building.
"We should go promptly," Raoul said as he glanced at the clock on the wall and began to lead Christine through the crowd.
The station was a growing cacophony of sound and blur of color. People from all stages of life moved in and out of doors and corridors as they searched for the place they needed to be. Men glanced at pocket watches and harried mothers tried to rein in rambunctious children. Voices competed for attention with the calls of porters and conductors. And over and above all was the hissing and mechanical whining of the locomotives. Their steam engines huffed and puffed out their impatience to be set free even as their mechanical parts echoed strange sounds from unknown depths. The Paris station was a place out of a strange dream, noisy, writhing, covered in a fine mist.
"It reminds me of a dragon," Christine said as she leaned toward her husband.
Raoul looked down at her upturned face in amusement. "A dragon?" he asked.
"All this steam and noise." Christine raised her free hand to her ear. "Those sounds - they are like a dragon from a story."
"That your father used to tell," Raoul nodded in understanding.
Christine stopped, causing her husband to stop. "That you used to read to me."
Raoul was taken aback. "It had slipped my mind." He patted the gloved hand holding to his arm. "Thank you for reminding me."
"You are welcome," Christine said with a slight smile and a gentle squeeze to his arm.
"Shall I protect you from the dragon, my lady?" Raoul playfully tried. The look that Christine gave him stopped Raoul's heartbeat.
"Always," she replied in a soft, earnest tone.
"Then stay by my side and I will guard you from the dragon that awaits us."
Christine prayed that it would be that simple but knew that there were dragons and demons from which Raoul would never be able to guard her. Her fears and her indecision were things that she would never be able to outrun, that would never let her escape from the dragon. But Christine - once again - buried them away, out of sight, in the dark recesses of her mind. She fell into step with her husband and allowed him to guide her toward the hissing, mechanical dragon that waited to take them far from Paris and into the heart of the country.
The private sleeper coach that Raoul had secured was quietly elegant and the three-day trip to Lyon was uneventful. Christine and Raoul read books as they sat in the red velvet chairs or watched as the French countryside passed beyond their windows. The bucolic scenery of the outside world full of whitewashed villages, green fields, distant blue mountains and sparkling lakes could not penetrate the chill that still existed between the young couple who watched as it passed by. They were polite to each other, speaking gently as they shared meals or commented on the newest paper delivered by a porter from the latest stop. But it was at night that the chill was most pronounced for there was only a double bed in the private coach and each evening Christine would curl up on one side of the bed, sheets pulled tightly to her chin. On their first evening, Raoul had tried reaching out for his wife, only to receive a polite "good night" from Christine. For the next two evenings, he had slept as far on the opposite of the bed as was humanly possible, completely unaware of the desperate need his wife was fighting, the silent tears she cried until sleep finally claimed her.
They had left Paris on a Tuesday morning and finally arrived in Lyon early on Friday afternoon. Raoul held Christine's hand as she stepped from the coach into the warm spring day.
"It is good to be off the train," Christine said.
Raoul gave her a smile as they began to walk through the station.
"Monsieur le Vicomte?" A male voice asked as Raoul and Christine reached the main lobby.
Christine watched as a warm smile lit her husband's face and he let go of her hand to take the one the man extended toward him.
"Arthur!" Raoul exclaimed. "I did realize Philippe would send you to meet us."
"I would not let him send anyone else," Arthur replied with a smile, his voice carrying an English instead of a French accent.
Raoul turned his attention to his wife. "Arthur, this is my wife, Christine," he said as Christine extended her hand, smiling at this rather handsome middle-aged man. "Christine, this is Arthur Weldon; he is Philippe's assistant, steward ..." Raoul actually laughed. "I do not really know what he does except keep me out of trouble when I misbehave."
Arthur bowed slightly over Christine's hand. "I am Philippe's steward. I have been with him since shortly after he inherited the title. And I am very pleased to finally meet the young woman who has stolen Raoul's heart for I have heard much about you."
Christine blushed. "Thank you," she said softly.
Arthur looked between the two young people who were studiously not looking at each other. So, he thought, the rumors from Paris were true and there was a problem. No wonder Philippe had requested separate sleeping quarters be prepared from the young couple. But it was not his place to question the family for which he worked, all he needed to do was to ensure the safe arrival of the Comte's brother and his young wife.
"I have made arrangements for us to spend the evening at the Saint Joan Inn," Arthur told Raoul and turned once again to Christine. "It is an elegant inn halfway to Chagny, very old with a fine proprietor and cuisine that would make even a Paris chef green with envy."
"It sounds lovely," Christine said and turned to Raoul. "Have you been there before?"
"Often," Raoul told her. "Arthur is correct and I know it will find favor in your eyes."
"Then, please," Christine told both men, "let us not delay on my part."
Delay, they did not.
Arthur lead the young couple to a small indoor café where he procured tea and buttery pastries. By the time they had finished their snack, the coach had been piled with their luggage and was waiting for them in front of the station. The coach was even more elegant than the ones they owned back in Paris and Philippe's Coat of Arms graced the door panels on each side. Raoul and Christine took seats on one of the soft leather benches and Arthur settled himself into the other. He kept up a running commentary of what they passed as the coach moved through Lyon and toward the country. Arthur did it for Christine who - he had been told - had never visited this part of France before. Yet he seemed to be doing it, as well, as a distraction and a way to ease the tension he had felt existed between the young couple seated opposite him.
As the sun began to set, giving way to the purpled shadows of twilight, the coach pulled into a circular drive, stopping in front of a medium-sized country home. As Christine exited the coach, she smiled at the warm glow coming through the windows of the inn, her heart matching the glow as she heard the finely played notes of a piano drifting out the door that was opened by a liveried footman. As she and Raoul followed Arthur into the inn, the smell of roasted chicken greeted the nostrils of the hungry travelers and warm colors and comfortable furniture greeted their eyes.
"It is very lovely," Christine assured both men as they looked at her, waiting for her reaction.
But that night found Raoul and Christine sleeping on opposite sides of the bed again.
In the morning, Raoul and Christine put on their best faces as they met Arthur for breakfast before they departed for Chagny. Arthur felt a tug of despair at his heart for if he could sense the chill between Raoul and Christine, it was a certainty that Philippe would not fail to notice it. And as much as Philippe loved his younger brother, Arthur worried what his reaction would be to the young woman he had not wanted Raoul to marry. Philippe had relented and given his permission to the marriage simply because he loved his brother and wanted only his happiness. What would happen when he saw how quickly that happiness had dissipated? Arthur prayed that his employer - his friend - would have the patience to let these young people work out their difficulties for themselves without interference.
All of these thoughts passed through Arthur's mind as the coach moved through the countryside heading for Chagny. He listened as Raoul described what was passing the coach to his wife. He told her tales from his childhood, relating the silly, embarrassing things into which young boys will stumble. Arthur was relieved to see smiles pass Christine's face on occasion. Finally, as the day crept toward mid-afternoon, the coach slowed, turning right down a long lane lined by birch trees.
"You have never been here before?" Arthur tried as he noticed Christine begin to bite her bottom lip.
"No," Christine said with a shake of her head, keeping her eyes on the world outside the coach.
"We never found the time," Raoul said. "There was always so much to do in Paris." He touched his wife's arm and smiled as she turned to look at him. "But I think you will like it."
Christine turned back to look out the window as the coach slowed, pulling into a circular drive. "Oh my," she breathed.
Chagny was a huge stone chateau. There were three stories to a building that dwarfed the coach that was pulling up in front of it. A pennant with Philippe's Coat of Arms fluttered from a corner tower that spiraled upwards. Ivy and morning glories crept along the facade, relieving the grey of the fieldstone from which the chateau had been constructed. The coach pulled up and stopped next to a set of stone stairs, a middle-aged man with the same coloring as Raoul walking gracefully down them.
Raoul opened the door before the valet could, jumping down almost before the coach had fully stopped. "Philippe!" he said warmly as he embraced his brother.
"Impertinent lad," Philippe chided him.