Chapter Summary: Succumbing to pain and despair, Raoul makes a request. A ransom is delivered. The location where Raoul is held is revealed and lives will be changed. Forever ...
Author's Warning: I am issuing SERIOUS AND I MEAN IT "Shock factor" and "Tissues handy" warnings for this chapter. Secondly, this is a very long chapter but there was no way to break it into two smaller chapters without losing the emotional impact.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
He was dreaming. Pleasant dreams of worlds gone by. Dreams of warm sunshine reflecting off waves that sounded like horses hooves. He heard a fairy child calling on the wind and ran over glittering diamonds and into the path of the stampeding horses to save her magical wrap. He dreamed of searching for the fairy child throughout long years spent in cold houses where ancient men rattled on and on about useless facts that did nothing to help him find her. He dreamed of returning to the diamond beach only to find that the fairy child had grown, turning from the human, knowing they were not strong enough to bridge the gap between their worlds. He had left the fairy child taking only fading memories left to comfort him as he grew into aa adult who was told to leave behind dreams of childhood.
But the fairy child was not easily forgotten.
He dreamed of the night he had found her again. A night of swirling colors, laughter and music that drifted along on currents created by glowing candles. In the midst of that - like a dream within a dream - he had seen her again, the fairy child. She was standing amidst the soft glow, wrapped in the music, brighter and more beautiful than he could remember. He had sought her out, praying she would remember him and found her with memories as fond as the ones he carried. He dreamed of holding her in crystal snow that was warm and magical, as they finally discovered a way to bridge the gap between their worlds.. He dreamed of dancing in her arms, gossamer wings fluttering about them. And always in the dreams, hovering in the background, was the shadow. The shadow who threatened to destroy the bridge they were building and take the fairy child away forever.
He dreamed of the night the shadow struck. He dreamed of red flames and gold flashes and acrid smoke. He dreamed of the stars falling from the sky as his fairy child was dragged into the underworld. He dreamed of fighting his way through dangers untold, monsters nipping at head and heels, as he sought out his fairy child. He had found her trapped in the shadow's lair, tossed and tumbled, calling for him. He dreamed of reaching deep within himself, crossing the threshold of danger, braving the shadow in his lair. He dreamed of the shadow's approach, the threat he willingly took upon himself to save his beloved fairy child. He dreamed of the shadow, of the pain as the shadow slowly began to wrap about him ...
Pain. There was nothing but pain. Pain that began at broken toes and worked its way up legs numb from disuse, bruise lining calves and thighs. It flowed outward from the wound stretching across an abdomen and mingling with the pain from bruised ribs. It moved down cold arms and into the heat radiating from infection beginning in barely tended knife wounds. It moved upwards through the tingling cut just beneath the collar bone and into the bruised jaw and blackened, swollen eye before it ended in pounding that encompassed the whole scalp, seeping into the mind beneath, merging with emotional pain to create a new world. It was a world of darkness and despair and pain with no fairy child light the way, to take his hands and guide him back to the bridge between their worlds.
"Christine," Raoul breathed, a sob in his voice.
"What was that?" a voice asked from the distance.
Raoul struggled to open his eyes, finding the light of a new day too painful to look upon for long. He narrowed his eyes, gazing at a man kneeling in front of him. Blurred vision did not allow him to see the man clearly but Raoul could feel the man's touch on raw fingertips that burned with every pulse of life's blood. "No more," Raoul pleaded, his voice a trembling whisper.
Edouard stared at the bound man before him and felt something stir within his soul. He had agreed to the taking of a person for ransom; it was something that had always been done. He had not bargained for the abuse that had been inflicted upon their hostage; Edouard was different from the men with which he associated. He had been raised on land that had been payment for silence regarding the parentage of a young woman's child. He had been taught to honor his parents, fear his God and to treat others as he wished to be treated. The teachings of his parents lasted as long as Edouard had lived under their roof. Upon answering the call of the wider world, Edouard had quickly fallen in with men who would surely have earned the disapproval of his family; yet he had always tried to maintain some of the teachings from his youth. Now to see another human so battered and broken made him begin to question his associations, his life. Edouard wondered what his family would think were he to appear on their doorstep and shook those thoughts from his mind, turning his attention back to the task at hand.
"It is just a simple bandage," Edouard told Raoul as he lifted the hand he held so that Raoul could understand why additional pain was being inflicted upon a body already wracked by more pain than many would know in a lifetime.
Raoul swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. "I am not leaving here," he stated as he opened his eyes.
Edouard shook his head. "Of course, you are. They are going to collect the ransom today. You will be home by tonight."
"No," Raoul insisted. "I will never see home again." He clasped the hand that held his own, ignoring the bright flashes of pain that danced before his eyes. "You must do me a favor."
Edouard was puzzled. "What?"
"Tell my wife," Raoul paused as he bit back the tears that wanted to start. "Find Christine and tell her I am sorry. Tell her I did not mean what I said. Tell her I have loved her since Perros and I will always love her."
"But ..." Edouard tried.
"Tell her!" Raoul's tone was suddenly strong and insistent. "You must tell her!"
Edouard nodded. "I will tell her," he tried appeasing Raoul.
"You must tell her one last thing." Raoul raised his eyes to the ceiling, letting his tears flow freely. "Tell her to find her angel. Tell her to go to him."
Angel? Edouard's brow furrowed in confusion but he replied softly, "I will.".
Raoul felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. "Thank you," he breathed, his eyes closing. "Christine," he sighed, the emotional effort expended pulling him back into the welcoming darkness.
Edouard gently released Raoul's hand and stood. He stared down at the unconscious man for a long moment, thinking about the words he had said, the request he had made. Edouard shook his head and wondered how this man ever thought he would be able to find his wife, let alone get close enough to relay his words. Edouard shrugged as he turned around, walking from the room and knowing that it was no longer his responsibility; the man would be home that evening, able to speak to this wife who occupied his every waking moment.
"Is he still with us?" Francois asked.
"He is unconscious again," Edouard told him and nodded at the roll that Francois was pulling from a small wooden box. "What is that for?"
"I have no idea," Francois lied. "I was told to bring the box into the cottage and unpack it." He kept a straight face as he looked at Edward. "I was told that you are needed outside. They want you to help get the pony cart prepared."
"As they wish," Edouard replied and moved toward the door. He stopped as Francois laid a hand on his arm. Edouard looked at him curiously.
"I am sorry I ever got you into this," Francois said.
Edouard nodded. "I could have said no." He clasped Francois warmly on the arm. "The money will be worth it in the end."
Francois could only nod and watch Edouard as he walked through the door to the cottage and into the bright sunshine of the first day of summer.
The same bright sunshine streamed in through the windows of the large front parlor at Chagny, illuminating a room decorated in shades of rose. The sun was warm as it continued the long climb to its zenith but was unable to warm the bodies and souls of those who stood and sat in that parlor. Rays of light upon which danced tiny specks of dust could not pierce the fear and tension that held sway over the grand estate and all those within its walls.
"I do not like this at all," Philippe said between clenched teeth as he stared at Arthur. "This could be just another of their cruel tricks." He shook his head once. "I cannot take anymore of their cruelty."
"Can Raoul?" Arthur wondered, watching as Philippe turned from him. "You have to be realistic, Philippe; they wish me to deliver the money and I intend to do as they ask." Arthur set his shoulders when there was no response from Philippe. "I am going and you can do nothing to stop me."
"And he shall have one of my men ride along as escort," Chief Inspector Pichette reminded Philippe. "Their letter stated two men, one of whom was to be Monsieur Weldon and the other a man of his choosing."
"But what happens if they know that the man with Arthur is an officer?" Henri asked, sober for the first time in days and frightened nearly beyond reason.
"We will not try anything foolish." Arthur glared at Henri who backed down in the face of such strength of emotion. "We shall follow their directions implicitly; we shall deliver the money and go to the place where they will have left the instructions on how to find Raoul."
"Are you sure it is wise for all of us to wait at the crossroads to the village?" Xavier asked. "Perhaps that is what they are seeking – a way to separate us, a chance to collect the money, kill Arthur and none of us shall ever be the wiser."
"Oh dear," Monique breathed as she looked up at her husband from where she was seated. Her eyes traveled from Xavier to the woman who stood by the window staring into the outside world.
"Christine? Do you wish to say anything?"
Christine looked briefly over her shoulder. "I want my husband back," came the softly spoken words before Christine turned back to the window.
"I will bring him back for you," Arthur said.
"We all will," Philippe interrupted. He ran a hand through his hair. "I am sorry. Over these last two weeks I have lost the ability to think clearly." He nodded at Arthur. "And the possibility of another person I care for in danger is something that does not bear thinking upon." He reached down to pick up the riding gloves that rested over the back of a wing chair before walking the few paces to Christine. He placed gentle hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "I will bring him back for us." Philippe gave her a small smile. "For you."
"I know," Christine told him, closing her eyes as she blinked back tears. "I know."
Philippe gave a quick squeeze to the shoulders he held and turned back to the room. "Let us go."
Chief Inspector Pichette looked to the man in casual clothes standing by the door. "You know what to do," he stated.
"Yes, Chief Inspector," the man nodded.
"Watches, gentlemen," Pichette said as he pulled his from its pocket. He flipped open the cover and looked at if for a moment. "It is now 10:05." The watch cover was snapped shut as Pichette raised his head. "Monsieur Weldon has two hours to deliver the ransom to the designated spot. We shall accompany him as far as the crossroads and wait for another two hours. If he does not return by that time, we shall go after him and the officers waiting in reserve shall be summoned. They will fan out and cover and recover every inch of this valley until Monsieur le Vicomte is found."
"Four hours," Christine whispered to herself. "Eighteen months. Time is such a funny thing." She looked down. "Seven months. A lifetime."
No one in the room heard her whispered words.
Xavier leaned over and kissed his wife, surprised when she grabbed onto his lapels. "Monique?"
"Be careful!" she urged him. "Please be careful." Monique let go of her husband's lapels and stood, looking about the room, briefly locking eyes with Philippe. "All of you. Please be careful and bring Raoul back."
"It is a promise," Xavier said and turned to Philippe, clasping him on the shoulder. "Let us waste no more time," he addressed Pichette.
"Agreed," Pichette replied.
The men moved toward the double doors of the parlor where Didier waited. He opened the doors for them, watching with longing as everyone left the room. He felt a hand on his arm and looked to see his uncle staring at him. "What is it?"
"I know you wish to go," Xavier began softly watching as Didier lowered his eyes. "But I need you here with your aunt and Christine. Henri – while sober – is still of little to no use and someone must support the ladies. I am trusting them to you." Xavier grew somber. "Do not fail me."
Didier raised his eyes and squared his shoulders. "I shall not fail you, Uncle."
Xavier nodded, a tight smile on his lips. "I know," he said and was gone.
"Please," the prayer issued forth from Christine's lips, as the sound of hooves on the drive crept in through open windows.
The sound of hooves also crept through the windows of the cottage in the woods as the sturdy pony hitched to the cart pawed at the ground beneath its feet. At the sound of a door opening, Louis looked up from where he was checking the harnesses that attached pony to cart. He watched as Francois pulled a long roll of thin material through the door.
"You do know what you are doing?" Louis asked and not for the first time.
"Yes," Francois replied in a slightly irritated tone of voice. "You just get on the cart and follow me and be prepared to move." He frowned. "I do not like what I had to do."
Louis shrugged. "The money will compensate you."
Francois continued to unroll what he held in his hands. "Not enough," he muttered and looked at Louis as he mounted the cart, taking the reins into his hands. "Not nearly enough."
Louis watched as Francois and his roll moved through the clearing, heading for the woods. He turned around, speaking through the canvas cover over the cart. "Ready?"
"Aye," came Nico's giddy reply.
Louis shook his head as he turned back to the front of the cart. "God help us all," he whispered and tapped the reins on the pony's back, leading the cart toward where Francois waited in the distance.
Philippe, too, watched the distance, seeing two riders recede into it, the figures growing smaller and smaller, finally vanishing into the horizon. He turned to the group of men gathered around him. "I am not comfortable with any of this," he told them.
"My man is well trained," Pichette said as he drew himself up, taking pride in the officer who had ridden away with Arthur.
Xavier shook his head. "He meant no disrespect."
"I did not," Philippe added, sighing wearily. "I am just ... I am frightened for my brother and worried for my friend. I cannot bear to think upon the losses that ..." Philippe closed his eyes, unable to continue. He felt a strong grip on his arm and knew to whom it belonged, grateful for the friendship of a lifetime.
"You are tired," Xavier began, "and certainly far beyond tired." He turned to Pichette. "All of us understand that," he said pointedly.
"Certainly," Pichette acquiesced.
Philippe opened his eyes and looked at the Chief Inspector. "I promise I will not cause you any difficulty. You tell me what to do and what you need of me and I shall follow your instructions without question." He sighed. "I am grateful you allowed me to come with you."
Pichette managed a smile. "If you do as I say, we shall most certainly have your family complete and reunited by this evening." He looked up at the sun. "Now I suggest we seek shelter under the trees while we wait."
The sound of an explosion echoing across the valley startled men and horses. Philippe turned an angry gaze upon Xavier. "That damn mine of yours shall be the death of me!"
Xavier glared in the direction of the mountains. "Two times in one week," he muttered. "I shall most definitely have to speak with the managers." He turned to Philippe and held out his hands, shrugging his shoulders. "I am sorry."
Philippe could only nod as his heart raced in his chest, taking his breath away.
Pichette looked at the watch he held in his hand. "We should be joined by the local gendarmes shortly." He led his horse into the shadows of some nearby trees and trusted the others to follow.
Over an hour later two other riders also guided their horses through the shaded coolness beneath a thick canopy of trees. The woods surrounding them were ancient, shadows cast by tall trees long and somehow sinister. Strange noises assailed their ears, making their eyes dart back and forth, sending chills up their spines already tensed in nervous anticipation. They stopped their horses as the lead rider held up his hand.
"Do you have any idea where we go now, Guy?" Arthur wondered as he turned to the man who stopped next to him.
Guy Rousseau unfolded the paper held between gloved hands, turning it, trying to capture a ray of light in which to read the words written upon it. He lifted the paper higher, frowning as he tried to read in the darkness of the wood. "It is not much further," he finally stated, lowering the paper and nodding off into the deeper wood. "I think we must go into in that direction until we come across a mound of stones."
"You need go no further," a voice called forth from the surrounding shadows.
Arthur and Guy both tightened their grips on individual reins.
"Who are you?" Arthur called back, a slight tinge of anger coloring his tone. "Where are you? Show yourself!"
Guy placed a hand on Arthur's knee and shook his head as a shot rang out.
"We are everywhere," another voice called. "Try anything and you shall never leave this place alive."
"Drop the money on the ground," a third voice called.
Arthur gritted his teeth but did as he was told, detaching the bags attached to his saddle. He waited in silence as Guy did the same.
"Such good boys," a decidedly nasty voice taunted them.
"Where is the Vicomte?" Arthur demanded, his voice rising. "What have you done with him?"
"Whatever I wanted," a voice chortled in the darkness.
"Monsieur Weldon," Guy tried again.
Another shot rang out. "Listen to your companion." Silence descended. "You will walk your horses from this place and not look back. If you do, your precious Vicomte will be dead before you will ever find him."
"How will we find him?" Guy called back.
"When you reach the edge of the woods, you will find a note pinned to a burned out oak tree. In that note are the instructions on how to find your Vicomte." Another shot rang out. "Now go!" came the shouted order.
Arthur and Guy carefully turned their mounts, their eyes never leaving the shadows surrounding them. They walked their horses through the wood in silence, their breathing rapid as they anticipated a shot that would not be fired into the air. Sensing the nerves of the men atop them, the horses snorted and danced, unhappy at the control being exerted upon them. The nerves of both men and beasts did not ease as they emerged from the shadows and into the midday heat, pausing in the open, at the edge of a road.
"Where is it?" Guy wondered as his eyes searched the surrounding countryside.
Arthur, too, searched and let out a cry of discovery. "There!" he shouted and galloped across the road and into an open field, heading for a tree that was no more than a hollow trunk. He jumped from his horse and ran to retrieve a long paper nailed to the tree.
Guy had followed him, pulling up as Arthur read the paper he now held in his hands. Guy noted the strange look on his face. "I will need to see that," the officer told Arthur.
"I know where this is," Arthur breathed and raised his head to look at Guy. "I know where this is!"
"Where is it?" Henri wondered as he rummaged through the drawers of an desk in one of the parlors. "Where is it?" He looked up as the door opened, pausing in his search as he saw Christine enter the room.
"No," Christine breathed as she saw Henri and turned for the door. She would not make it.
Henri sprinted across the room and slammed the door shut, turning around and placing his back against it. He watched as Christine shrunk away from him.
"Please do not," she pleaded.
"I ... I ..." Henri began and drew a breath before continuing. "I only wish to apologize for my recent behavior." He hung his head, lowering his eyelids. "I have been a beast and it was wrong of me to take advantage of the perceived trouble between you and my cousin." Henri heaved a great sigh. "I only hope that in time you will be able to forgive me."
Christine eyed him warily. "You are forgiven and we shall speak no more of it," she told him, only wishing for him to move so that she could escape.
Henri did move away from the door, opening it. "Thank you, cousin," he said politely as his lowered eyes watched Christine leave as quickly as she had come. He closed the door behind her and lifted his head, an amused gleam in his eyes. "That should take care of that," he said and returned to the desk, searching for access to the liquor cabinet. "Where is that damn key!"
As Christine heard the door close behind her, she placed a hand over her mouth and bent slightly forward, feeling a familiar nausea take hold. Her eyes darted about the long hall, seeking a door to the outside world or a basin. "Oh God," Christine breathed as she saw nothing. She stumbled to a nearby chair and lowered her head to her knees, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It was something she had been taught to do when first learning to pirouette and it had always eased the spinning room and the roiling stomach.
"Are you all right?" a quiet male voice asked and Christine felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"A moment," she breathed back, keeping her head down as she felt the nausea begin to ease. Slowly Christine lifted her head and found Didier staring down at her, concern on his handsome face. "I was just dizzy," Christine told him, fighting down the urge to shake her head, knowing it would only make things worse. "This is all just too ..." her voice broke.
Didier took one of her hands and covered it with his own. "I am so sorry." He tried giving Christine a small smile. "It should be over shortly, though; and then you will have Raoul back and you can begin to make this a very unpleasant and – hopefully – distant memory."
Christine sniffled back her tears. "Do you truly believe so?"
"Absolutely." The young man was emphatic. "And you must, as well." He reached for Christine's other hand, drawing her to her feet. "Come," he said, looking slightly ill-at-ease, "I believe my aunt will be of more comfort than I could ever hope to be."
"Do not think so poorly of yourself," Christine told him as she squeezed his hands. "You have been a comfort."
Didier smiled at her as he took her arm and led her into the huge front parlor. He watched as Christine's eyes darted to the mantle clock before turning towards his aunt who had risen to her feet.
"It has been almost six hours! How much longer?" Christine asked, the tears threatening to come again. "I cannot stand this waiting!"
Monique quickly crossed the room to take Christine in her arms. "Not much longer," she tried assuring Christine and herself. "It cannot be much longer," she said as worried eyes locked with her nephew's, seeing the same look in Didier's eyes.
And in the woods some distance from Chagny other eyes wore a worried look as they surveyed the scene before them.
"Oh no," Xavier breathed and turned to Chief Inspector Pichette. "You must send someone back to Monsieur le Comte. Tell them to make sure he does not see this."
Pichette's expression was grim and drawn. "I agree," he replied, signaling to one of the gendarmes who stood nearby. "Go back to the riders and tell them to wait where they are. They are not to approach this area. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Chief Inspector," the man replied and moved quickly into the woods beyond the clearing where Philippe waited with Arthur and the other gendarmes, a coach nearby for Raoul.
"Where do we begin?" Xavier wondered.
"We do not," Pichette replied. "This is not a job for a civilian." He motioned to his men. "You know what to do." He watched as the gathered gendarmes began to fan out, searching the debris underfoot. Pichette grabbed Xavier's arm as he felt the man next to him take a step forward. "You do not wish to see this," he said simply.
"He is my friend," Xavier said between clenched teeth.
What Pichette might have told Xavier was cut short by the sound of one of his men calling to him. "Chief Inspector!"
Pichette quickly and carefully moved through the debris field and stopped by his officer. He looked at the man's pale countenance and followed his gaze to what lay underfoot.
"Oh dear God," Pichette heard the horrified whisper and turned to see Xavier behind him, his normally ruddy pallor turning gray.
"I thought I told you to stay back there!" Pichette was angry.
"I ... I ..." Xavier turned his head away.
Pichette bent over and retrieved something from the ground, wiping it on the corner of his jacket. He touched Xavier on the arm. "You may wish to give this to Monsieur le Comte," he said simply and placed something into Xavier's hand.
Xavier stared at the object for a long moment, a strange look on his face, before closing his fist around it and nodding; he did not trust his voice.
"We shall need to stay here and secure the area." Pichette told him. "I shall send an officer back with you and one to the village requesting ..."
"Please do not say it," Xavier asked softly. He turned to Pichette. "Please."
Pichette nodded and watched as Xavier stood silently, straightening his spine, and gathering his courage. He shook his head and watched as the man and his accompanying officer moved off into the shadowed wood, bearing a burden Pichette would not wish upon anyone. He turned back to the task at hand, addressing his officers. "You know what needs to be done."
"It needs to be done in the way they wish it to be done," Monique told Christine, watching as the young woman paced back and forth across the front parlor. "They must follow the directions from those men if we are to welcome Raoul home tonight."
Christine stopped her pacing long enough to glance at Monique. "I know, I know," she said with a slight nod of her head. "This waiting, though, will be the death of me!" Her bottom lip began to tremble. "I want him back in my arms." A huge gong echoed from the grandfather's clock as it began to toll; six chimes echoed throughout the silent household. "It has been nearly eight hours!"
"I know my dear," Monique said. "I wish there was something I could do to make this easier for you. I wish ..."
"Was that a door?" Christine interrupted Monique, eyes darting towards the front of the house.
Monique rose to her feet. "I do not know. Perhaps it was just a servant."
Voices could be heard coming from the front of the house.
"No, it is them," Christine breathed, her hand going to her throat. She turned to look at Monique, the hope evident in every muscle of her body. "They are back!" Christine exclaimed as she bolted from the parlor, Monique hard on her heels.
Philippe and Xavier were just entering through the open front door, Henri and Didier visible on the portico behind them, Didier's arm wrapped about Henri's shoulders.
"Where is he?" Christine asked. "Where is Raoul?"
Philippe took her hands as Christine stopped by his side. "He is not here," Philippe said softly.
Christine studied her brother-in-law's face. "Where is he? Did you not find him?"
Monique looked at her husband, his pale complexion, the pain evident in his expression and her heart fell. She quietly put a hand on Christine's arm.
"We found the place where they were holding him," Philippe said.
"Then where is my husband?" Christine asked, the only thing she felt was the nausea that was manifesting itself in the pit of her stomach.
Xavier laid a hand on Philippe's shoulder. "There was an explosion, Christine," he said, not wanting his friend to bear this burden alone.
"Raoul is dead," Philippe told her in a soft, lost tone of voice.
Christine tried to take her hands back. "No," she said, her face frowning. "That's a lie."
"Christine ..." Philippe tried again.
"No! Raoul is not dead!" Christine was adamant. "I need to see him. I will not believe that Raoul is dead unless I can see him."
"You cannot see him," Philippe replied.
"Then he is not dead!" Christine was beginning to hyperventilate.
"There was an explosion," Xavier tried again, "and Raoul was in the cottage when it happened." Xavier watched as silent tears began to flow down his wife's cheeks.
"Then we must help him!" Christine exclaimed. "To which doctor did you take him?" Her eyes never left Philippe's face, searching, pleading.
Philippe closed his own eyes for a moment as he composed himself, trying to find a way to make Christine hear what they were saying. He opened his eyes again and gently squeezed the small hands he held. "Christine there is no doctor," Philippe began. "There is no doctor because we cannot help Raoul. You must hear what I am saying." Philippe noted how still Christine had become and moved his hands up to hold her arms. "There was an explosion and we have reason to believe that Raoul was in the center of that explosion." There was no response. "Christine, do you understand what I am saying?"
Christine was silent, the color beginning to drain from her face. "No," she whispered as her head began to shake. "No."
Philippe reached deep inside, holding onto his composure for a moment longer. "Christine, Raoul is dead and you cannot see him because ... because ..." Philippe's voice and composure finally broke and he could not find the words to say.
Xavier also placed his hand on Christine's arm. "Christine you cannot see Raoul because there is nothing left to see," he said as softly and compassionately as he could manage.
Christine looked at Xavier as he spoke before turning her gaze back to Philippe. She found he could not look at her. "Philippe, please," she whispered, trying desperately to hold onto the world that was beginning to spin around her. "Please!" she begged.
Philippe found he could no longer speak and just shook his head. He reached into his pocket and drew out something that he placed into Christine's hand.
Christine looked down and saw her husband's crest ring shining in the lowering light of the longest day of the year. "Raoul," Christine breathed before her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed into Philippe's arms.