Author's Note: I am sorry about how long it has taken to update and I have a simple explanation. I live in Naples, Florida and we recently had company in the form of a lady named Wilma who had attitude issues. But now that she is gone life is slowly returning to normal. Thank you for your patience!

Chapter Summary: Meg and Val share a conversation about their mothers and Erik and Tallis. Antoinette and Erik share a conversation about Meg, Christine and Tallis.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Meg smiled brightly at the reflection smiling back at her from the hall mirror. It was a lovely little face framed by loose golden blonde hair and Meg flipped some stray locks over her shoulders. China blue eyes twinkled back at her, an echo of the smile that graced soft pink lips. Meg took a look down, twitching her casual pink morning dress into place. A thin hand smoothed pink linen across the taught abdomen and hips of the former dancer, bright flashes of light from a diamond wedding set dancing in the morning sun. Meg stepped back and gave herself a last critical look and nodded at what she could see. Pleased with herself, Meg turned from the mirror to walk down the hall of her Parisian town home, stopping in an open doorway to admire the view before her.

Valery, Baron de Castelot-Barbezac, sat at the writing desk in the front parlor, the morning sun gleaming off dark brown hair that had recently seen its first hints of grey. He was dressed in a suit and tie and Meg knew that meant he would be spending part of the day conducting the business of running his estates and managing their money. She smiled softly as Val reached up to tug at his ear, an endearing trait that meant he was making a decision. This first year of marriage had taught Meg much about the pleasant, even-tempered man she had married and she had come to love the habits and little idiosyncracies that Val had manifested. She remained quiet as she watched Val pick up a pen, his elegant hand moving easily as he signed his name to the paper in front of him, moving it to the side and raising his head, a broad smile crossing his face.

Meg moved into the room toward the open arms that beckoned to her. She heard the scrape of chair legs along the wood floor as Val moved away from the desk, turning the chair to the side. Meg smiled as she watched Val pat his lap and she settled easily into it, feeling his arms go around her, his lips seeking hers. Meg sighed as she melted into the kiss, feeling the tip of Val's tongue play along her lower lip.

"Sir!" Meg exclaimed as she drew back, a look of shock upon her face.

"Madame?" Val replied, struggling to maintain a look of innocence.

"You are very daring!" Meg told him.

"And you are very beautiful," Val told her, a hand moving easily to rest against the small of her back.

Meg moved her hands to cup her husband's face and she planted a firm kiss against his lips before drawing back, her laughter ringing off the walls. "We are very unfashionable!"

"And I would have it no other way," Val told her, his dark eyes glowing. "I would rather flirt with my saucy little ballet rat than the finest woman in all of France."

Only from her husband and her mother could the term "ballet rat" sound so loving. Meg stuck out her bottom lip. "Only France?"

"The world, my love," Val corrected himself. "The world." He patted her bottom and Meg stood, moving to the other side of the desk. Val leaned back in his chair, waiting until Meg had taken a seat. "What do you plan to do this day?"

Meg crossed her arms on the edge of the desk, leaning slightly forward, looking at the morning's mail scattered across the blotter. "I had been hoping there would have been a letter or a telegram from Christine or Raoul."

"Nothing as of yet," Val replied and watched as Meg's face fell a little. "Take heart, my dear," he told her. "They are in the bosom of their family and in a lovely part of the country. I am sure they are enjoying themselves far too much to be bothered with saying such to the friends they have left behind."

"Do you really believe so?" Meg frowned slightly.

"I do."

"Oh, I hope so!" Meg studied her husband's open, honest face. "I want to believe that whatever was troubling them before they left has been settled. I want to believe they are so busy being happy again that they have completely forgotten about us."

Val gave his wife a gentle smile. "You hold to your beliefs," he told Meg. "A loving spirit such as yours can surely bend the universe to its will."

"Val," Meg told him with a shake of her head.

There was a moment of silence as each studied the face on the other side of the desk, seeing in the countenance before them the million and one reasons why they had fallen in love. It was Meg who finally broke the stare, the emotional intensity of it turning her cheeks a bright pink.

"August is coming soon, my dear, and it will be hot and miserable here in Paris." Val cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you would like to go and spend some time at our country home." Val retrieved his discarded pen and twirled it between his fingers. "We could leave in mid-July."

Meg wrinkled her little nose at her husband's suggestion. "Weeks in the country with the dowager Baroness watching our every move?" Meg shuddered. "I would rather attend a funeral."

"Meg," Val warned.

"I did not truly mean it about the funeral!" Meg insisted. "Although, I did mean it about your mother; she still does not like me." Meg grew serious. "She still thinks you married too far below your station. She criticizes my clothing, my hair, my manners. I can see her adding the cost of everything I own in her head and wondering how I have managed to open your purse." Meg let out a long sigh. "Your mother only thinks I married you for your money." There was no answer from her husband and Meg fixed him with a curious look. "We could always have a child and I am sure that would stop her criticisms." Meg chewed thoughtfully on a fingertip. "It would also mean I would never have a moment's peace raising my child."

Val reached a long arm across the desk and pulled his wife's fingertip from her mouth; he squeezed the hand he held. "We agreed that we would wait for two years before having a child so that we could enjoy ourselves and you could settle into your new role as a Baroness."

"I know," Meg replied softly.

"And my mother will make our lives miserable when our first child is born," Val had to agree. "I would rather delay that moment for some time longer, if you please." He held up a finger as Meg opened her mouth. "But I do want to take you to the country for a few weeks and I have the perfect idea to offset the irritation my mother can cause." A mischievous little gleam began to grow in Val's eyes. "I propose we take your mother to the country with us, as well."

"Val! That is so wicked of you!"" Meg exclaimed, a hand going to her mouth. She was unable to stifle the giggles that broke through. "It is a wonderful idea!"

"Yes, well," Val replied. "I do know my mother and the only person who will ever be able to hold their own against her is your mother. As much as you fear my mother, I fear yours more." He shook his head as Meg's mouth fell open. "Perhaps fear is not the correct word." He thought for a moment. "I respect your mother for she is a person who commands respect. It is in her carriage, her words, the way she conducts herself. She is a lady in every sense of the word." Val once again reached across the desk for his wife's hand. "And you are her daughter, my love; you are a lady. You are beautiful and gracious and elegant. You are tender and sweet and when you move it is like watching an angel walk."

"Mmmm," Meg hummed, her brow wrinkling. "Ooh, I so dislike it when you do that." She smiled at him. "I surrender; you win. I will go to the country with you and face the mother lion in her den." The smile disappeared. "As long as my mother can come, as well."

"As you wish," Val agreed. "I think we may wish to take Mademoiselle Ordogne, as well, for I think her parents would be glad of a visit from their daughter after these many months."

The suggestion brightened Meg considerably and she clapped her hands together. "That is so clever of you, Val! I know from talking with Mother that Tallis does miss her family. A trip to see them will be so wonderful for her!" Meg grew pensive.

"What is wrong?" Val worried.

Meg worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "If you and I and Mother and Tallis are in the country, who will that leave for Erik to visit? You know he depends greatly upon Mother." Meg shook her head. "He still lives in fear and with fear. What will he do without Mother for the time we are away?" Meg stopped chewing on her lip, her voice lowering to share a secret. "And I have a feeling he is growing quite fond of Tallis." She was a bit surprised by the look on her husband's face. "Val! Surely you do not disapprove?"

"Meg," Val began, his hands folding on the desk in front of him, "I respect the man's talents. I respect him because your mother is deeply fond of him, as are you. I may even respect him a small bit for himself but that does not mean I can forget who he was or what he has done. Your Erik strikes me as a man who can still be dangerous and Tallis is my responsibility. I promised to keep her safe when her parents agreed to let her go to your mother. My family has always held their responsibilities to their retainers in high regard. I cannot and will not let down generations of my ancestors simply because you wish to play matchmaker."

"Now you are just being cruel," Meg was growing angry. "You pretend to like him and you pretend to not see what is happening before your eyes." Meg took her arms off the desk and crossed them over her chest. "You are just like your mother."

"And you are just like yours," Val shot back.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you cannot save every stray soul under God's heaven just because you wish it!"

"I will at least try," Meg warned her husband, "because that is what women do!" She rose to her feet. "We do not create hate and cruelty and evil and war. We create the love and compassion that keeps society from falling victim to the foolishness of men." Meg watched as Val also rose to his feet. "Tallis will love who her heart chooses and you above all others should know that one cannot help with whom they fall in love." Meg leaned across the desk toward her husband. "Or am I just a passing fancy?"

Val stared at his wife for a long moment before grabbing her face and kissing her quite soundly. "I do so dislike it when you are correct," he whispered as he drew back. He sighed and resumed his seat, looking up at the woman still standing over him. "I do harbor a small affection for your Erik but that does not mean I view him with my eyes closed." Val spread his hands open. "I wish I could be more like you, my dear; I wish it with all my heart but I cannot. I am a cautious man by nature and it will take more than a few good works for me to fully trust your Erik."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "A few good works?"

Val realized what he had said and tried to cover his mistake. "He has been good to your mother and to you. And he has been very kind to Tallis." Val relented. "If you think it would be beneficial to his well-being, please invite him to join us in the country. I am sure there is an empty cottage on the estate where he can stay during our time there."

Meg leaned over and kissed her husband on his forehead. "Thank you," she said softly. "I shall talk to Maman about it and have her make the suggestion to Erik." She gave her husband a brilliant smile. "I love you."

Val laid a hand over the one Meg rested on the desk. "And I love you."

Meg straightened. "I shall change and go to visit my mother."

"Give her my regards," Val said as his wife turned on her heel and disappeared out the door. "I hope you are correct and this turns out well," he said to the empty doorway.

The object that had precipitated the disagreement between husband and wife was at the moment seated at the piano in Madame Giry's home, a light, breezy melody being coaxed from keys and wire. Long, elegant fingers lightly danced back and forth, their easy flow but the outward extension of the composer's vision. The tune they wove moved from a soft lullaby picking up speed to a happy child's tune. The child grew to a joyous teen, the melody picking up the whirling beat of a spinning ballerina. The whirling dancer then slowed, the notes growing richer and deeper as romance entered the picture, maturing the teen into a woman in the first blush of love. The music continued to slow, fingers caressing the ebony and ivory keys with more love than mere notes could ever hope to convey. Finally - with a flourish comprised of soft romantic joy - the music came to an end, the final notes wafting into the room only to fade away into the plastered walls, leaving behind a potent silence.

When no sound of approval or disapproval came in response to his music, Erik turned around to look at the woman sitting behind him. He studied Antoinette in silence for a moment, a worried look growing on his face. She sat very still, her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were closed and her countenance betrayed no inkling of what she thought of his composition - the composition he had written for her daughter at the request of her son-in-law. "Well?" Erik finally ventured in a hesitant tone. There was no answer. "Oh, do say something!" Erik sighed in exasperation.

Very slowly, Antoinette opened her eyes, as a tiny smile began to form on her lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "I can hear my daughter in every note," Antoinette began quietly, a faraway look on her face. "I can hear a small baby being bounced on her father's knees." Antoinette sighed and swallowed down the tears. "I can hear my little girl growing into a young woman even as she grew into a dancer." She fixed Erik with a look of great fondness and warmth. "And I can hear the love she feels for her husband." Antoinette rose to her feet and crossed the room to lay a hand on Erik's shoulder. She looked down into his face and watched the fear and uncertainty disappear in the light of her pleasure. "It is a lovely thing that Val asked you to do and a wondrous thing you have accomplished. Val shall be pleased and Meg will be overjoyed." She gave Erik a wide smile. "And I am delighted." The smile disappeared. "But not surprised."

The warm glow caused by Antoinette's praise began to fade at her final words and Erik looked worried. "I do not understand."

Antoinette shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I am not surprised because I always knew you were capable of such beauty." She sighed. "There is such capacity within you for greatness in anything to which you lay your hand. I have seen such over these many years. That is why I am not surprised." Antoinette smiled again. "It is also quite pleasant for a mother to think that her daughter may be a muse for a such a talent."

Erik could feel the glow of pride begin to swell again as Antoinette spoke but he grew sheepish as she finished. "Ah," he said and would say no more.

"It was not just my daughter," Antoinette began, "was it?" The former ballet mistress had had many years in which to study the human spirit in all its incarnations and it had given her a wisdom deeper than most. She could hear, in the grace notes of the music, a voice that did not belong to her daughter. It was a simple voice with a simple grace and Antoinette recognized it for what it was, for who it was.

Erik lowered his eyes, unable to look his friend in the face. "No," he replied and kept his eyes focused on the bench between his knees. "I found myself unable to write, unable to compose without thinking of ..." He paused for a moment. "Without thinking of Christine," he admitted aloud to Antoinette and to himself. "I grew angry with myself and fled that damn garret. I thought to seek you out, to find the solace you have always brought forth from my darkness. I made it as far as the woods at the back of your property when I saw you both in the garden." Erik knew he had no need to define whom he had seen with Antoinette. "You were picking flowers and she was working in the garden." Erik's brows knitted into a slight frown. "It was so normal in one moment and a scene from a fairy story in the very next; it was a waking dream for me. It was a vision I had often had - a garden with Christine laughing and brighter than any flower could ever hope to be." He finally raised his head, the pain evident in his eyes. "Yet there was no longer a Christine and my dream garden was no longer a dream. It was real and she was real and in that instant I knew that I could never drag her into my darkness." Erik shook his head. "Yet I could not chase her from my mind. I needed to give voice to the beauty I saw with my eyes." He laid a hand over his heart. "And with my heart. That sight of her in the garden gave me the smallest inkling of what it was that Val saw in Meg." Erik sighed. "She became my voice."

Antoinette motioned to Erik and he slid over so that she could join him on the piano bench. "Why do you not tell her these things?"

"Because," Erik began as he took Antoinette's hand, "the last time a young woman became my voice, it nearly drove me mad. I cannot and will not do such a thing to Tallis for she deserves better than that from me." His voice fell. "She deserves better than me."

"Have you ever thought to ask Tallis what she wants?" Antoinette wondered.

"I shall ask her no such thing," Erik replied, his tone of voice darkening.

"She is not Christine," Antoinette reminded him.

"As I am all too aware."

Antoinette, too, could be stern. "You mistake my meaning," she said and caught Erik's eye as he raised his head at the sound of her voice.

"Enlighten me," Erik told her. "Explain me to myself for obviously I do not understand my own mind."

"It is not your mind with which I am concerned," Antoinette replied, a half-smile on her face.

"That damned heart," Erik muttered.

"That damned heart," Antoinette agreed. "That damned heart that now holds a fondness for a young woman other than Christine." She nodded. "And that is as it should be for Christine could never be for you what Tallis could be."

"What is that?" Erik wondered.

"An equal."

Erik was stunned. "A what? An equal?" He blurted out. His voice was raised in surprise and his words were carried beyond the open windows of Antoinette's room.

They were carried to the garden just outside the room and into the ears of a young woman who had been enchanted by a spell woven by a music she could not understand but which captivated her heart. She had not meant to listen after the music had ended but found her feet were now rooted to the spot where she stood. She had rejoiced to know she had been in the music but that quickly fled at the cruel words and tone that followed. Even as her joy fled, her feet, too, had fled, carrying her to the back of the garden shed where none could see or hear her. She had fallen to her knees, burying her face in her hands as the tears came. She knelt there, sobbing, and did not hear the words that followed the ones that had chased her to this place.

"Do not be so obtuse!" Antoinette warned Erik.

Erik withdrew his hand, crossing his arms over his chest. He would not look at Antoinette and resembled nothing more than a little boy being scolded by his maman.

Antoinette folded her hands in her lap. "You love passionately. She loves passionately. You are stubborn. She is stubborn. You are intelligent in the ways of books. She is intelligent in the ways of the world. You could teach her and she could teach you. She will never let you wallow in your darkness but will understand that there are times when you need to be there. She will applaud your talent and laugh at your folly." Antoinette drew a deep breath. "And Tallis can be something to you that Christine could never be." Antoinette waited until Erik had turned his head to look at her. "She can be yours and yours alone. She has never loved anyone before - this I know - and she will love you openly and honestly and in spite of your faults." Antoinette took back one of Erik's hands. "Would you truly let such a miracle slip through your hands?"

"I do not think it matters," Erik said softly, "for if it is as you describe, then I am not worthy of such a miracle." He shook his head sadly. "I have done nothing in my life to deserve such a gift."

"Miracles," Antoinette told him, "are not meant to be deserved but are meant to be received in supplication and with gracious thanks." Before Antoinette could get a reply there came a gentle knock at the door. "Come," she called out. The door opened and Tallis walked into the room, her cheeks and eyes a bit red, a handkerchief rubbing at the end of her nose. "Are you quite all right, my dear?" Antoinette wondered.

"It is the onions for the soup," Tallis lied. "I may have done too many." She managed to give Erik a wan smile as she caught him looking at her. "Will be you be staying for lunch?"

Erik turned to look at Antoinette. "If I may?"

Antoinette inclined her head. "You are always welcome at my table." She turned her attention back to Tallis. "Did you hear any of the music while you were in the kitchen?" Antoinette watched the blush creep up the young woman's cheeks and knew that she had heard far more than just the music.

"I heard some of it," Tallis was willing to admit. "It was very beautiful."

"It is a gift from the Baron to Meg," Erik told her. "It is for their wedding anniversary."

"The Baroness is very lucky to have found someone to love her so much," Tallis replied "and to have a friend who can write such beautiful music."

"The word is compose," Erik corrected her, "not write. Compose."

His attitude bolstered Tallis' flagging spirits. "And luncheon shall be ready in twenty minutes." She turned to Antoinette. "Madame," Tallis said as she nodded her head and left through the door, closing it behind her.

There was a moment of silence before Antoinette's amused laughter echoed about the room.

"I do not see what you find so amusing," Erik grumped.

Antoinette put a hand to her lips as she composed herself. "Did I say she was your equal? I was sadly mistaken." She turned to Erik, still struggling to keep her laughter under control. "Tallis is most definitely not your equal; she is your better!"

But never my better half, Erik thought sadly.