Chapter Summary: Monique and Didier make plans to visit Chagny. Monique has something hidden in her sitting room. After nearly two months of captivity, Raoul's spirit begins to yield to his captors even as Louis further breaks him by mere words. Nico is plotting to inflict pain on everyone. Henri breaks down in front of Didier. And Monique goes in search of Philippe.
(Author's Note - I am going to issue a "Tissue Warning" for this chapter since it made me cry while I wrote it. It is never a good thing when the author cries over her own words ...)CHAPTER FORTY ONE
"Are you feeling better?" Monique asked as she stuck her head into the room of her husband's young cousin. She smiled as she saw Didier sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Much," he answered, waving for the woman he called "Aunt" to enter. Didier waited until Monique had come into the room and taken a seat by his bed before continuing. "The stomach upset and the tiredness is completely gone," he smiled. "What of you?"
"I have been feeling much better for the last few days," Monique answered, a look of apology crossing her face. "I only wish my favorite tea had been able to cure you as it did for me."
"Oh, I think your tea could not have helped with what ailed me," Didier replied as he rolled his eyes. "I think whatever it was that assailed my digestive system had more to do with the trip that Henri and I took then it did with any stomach ailment from which you suffered."
"Where did you and Henri go?"
"Away," Didier evaded.
Monique raised an eyebrow at him. "My dear child," she began, "Henri de Chagny does not just 'go' on a trip. That young man does nothing without a purpose." She grimaced. "However distasteful such a purpose may be."
Didier shook his head. "You do not know Henri like I know him or you would not say such things."
"Then tell me of the Henri you know," Monique replied, folding her hands in her lap.
"The Henri that I know is an indulged, spoilt brat, I will grant," Didier began. "That he has no concept of the word 'discipline', I shall also grant; but it is what lies beneath that exterior that is my friend. It is the little boy who is afraid of disappointing those in power." Didier smiled. "It is the young man who loves the company of warm women and good wine." And he grew serious. "And it is the man who is scared that he may one day have all that he ever wanted." Didier reached out and touched Monique's hands. "That is the Henri I know. That is the man who is my friend. That is the man whose secrets I keep and whom I shall never betray."
Monique sat silently for a moment, studying the earnest face of the young man across from her. She unfolded her hands and took the one resting on them into her embrace. "Does that young fool have any idea of how good a friend you truly are?"
Didier chuckled. "I highly doubt it." He winked at Monique. "And I am still not telling you where either of us was."
"Rogue," Monique replied with a grin as she rose to her feet. "I came to tell you that I am leaving for Chagny within the hour should you wish to accompany me."
"I would like that," Didier told her, an inquisitive look in his eyes. "Have you heard from my cousin?"
"No," Monique said with a shake of her head. "But you know your cousin; Xavier will tell us what he wants us to know in his own time." She sighed, her lips pursing. "We must trust that he will find where Christine is staying. We must trust his judgement. He has never let us down in all these years."
"No, he has not," Didier agreed, his eyes straying to the mantle clock. "If you will permit me thirty minutes, I shall meet you downstairs and accompany you to Chagny."
"I should like that," Monique told him. "I shall see you in thirty minutes time and then we shall go to Chagny – you to comfort Henri and I to comfort Philippe."
Monique left Didier to his own devices and walked down the staircase, crossing the entry foyer and moving into her small sitting room. She wove her way through the furniture that appeared to be carelessly scatter about but had – in actuality – been placed in precise groupings for intimate conversation or quiet contemplation. Monique took a seat behind her writing desk, the desk that she had brought to Cote de Vallee upon her marriage. She opened the center drawer and reached a hand inside, feeling for a familiar oddity. A satisfied smile crossed her lips as fingertips felt the small lever, pushing it lightly toward the back of the desk, opening a secret compartment. Monique sighed as she reached in for a bundle of letters wrapped in a fading blue ribbon. Her fingers traced the elegant writing on the top envelope, her look growing wistful.
"I do not even know why I keep these," she said softly and shook her head. "That is a lie for I know precisely why I keep them." Monique sighed and turned her head so that she could look out the front window, across the valley toward Chagny. "Oh, Christine, you cannot outrun your past or your heart and you will never be able to forget." Monique turned her attention back to the parcel in her hand and raised it to her lips, placing a light kiss on the ribbon. "Philippe," she breathed and slipped the old letters back into the hidden compartment. Her hands gently slid the drawer shut and she rose, turning to the window, placing a hand on a pane. "If only …" Monique shook her head, knowing it was useless to dwell on the past, yet still unable to chase the possibilities from her mind. "How things could have been so different for all of us," Monique said to the bright day, the tears in her eyes turning the view of the valley into a blur of colors.
A blur of color was also all that Raoul could see as he slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the brightness of the room in which he found himself. He lowered his eyelids so that his eyes were nearly closed again, looking around, struggling to get his bearings.
"A room?" he wondered, his words nearly inaudible.
As his vision slowly began to clear and the light became less painful, Raoul opened his eyes a bit further and realized that he was on the floor of a room, his body stiff and aching. He could feel the pounding in his head as he raised it, looking down toward his toes. He saw his hands bound together at the wrists but could see no similar bindings at his ankles. Raoul gingerly put his head back down, lifting his hands so that he could see them, the sight of still raw nail beds and skin speckled with tiny knife pricks bringing unwanted memories to the forefront of his thoughts and tears to his eyes.
"Sit up," he said. "I have to sit up."
Raoul tried rolling to his side, nearly biting through his bottom lip at the pain in his chest. He knew from previous riding accidents that his ribs were cracked and that the pounding in his head surely meant a concussion; he struggled in vain not to remember the untended cuts that burned fire across his abdomen and along his arms. "Oh God," he prayed, struggling to breathe through the pain. "I can do this. I can do this."
Bound hands reached out for the object in front of them, grabbing at it, not caring what it was. Raoul's injured fingers curled weakly around something that felt solid and stable, pain dancing in the stars that flashed on closed eyelids. He slowly counted to ten, trying to gather what little strength he had, trying to summon courage. Raoul's tongue slipped out, trying to moisten dry lips. "Right," he breathed, as fingers tightened a bit more and Raoul pulled himself to a sitting position, a sound between a moan and a scream escaping from between clenched teeth. Raoul's head fell forward against something soft, as he lost the battle he had been fighting against his despair and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. "What did I do?" he sobbed to the empty room. "What did I do?"
"You did nothing, my love," a soft voice whispered as gentle hands touched knotted shoulder muscles.
Raoul turned to look at the angel who was lowering herself to sit next to him, the look of love and compassion on her face taking his breath away. "Why are they doing to this to me? Why?"
The angel shook her head, a hand reaching in to brush away the tears. "I do not have an answer for you."
"Then why are you here?" Raoul wondered bitterly, turning his face from the angel. "I want to go home. I want the pain to stop. I want the beatings and the cuttings and the burnings to stop. I want to see my brother." His eyes closed in pain. "I want to see my wife," he finished on a whisper.
"I am here to make sure that you get home to those you love," the angel told him, touching his face so that Raoul turned back to look at her. "If you will just trust in me, I will see that you get home."
A dark pall descended over Raoul's heart. "I do not think I shall ever see home again."
Worry crossed the angel's face. "You must not think like that!" she told him. "You must hold to faith." She raised one of Raoul's hands to her heart. "When you cannot find your own belief, you must hold to mine." The angel raised her eyes toward Heaven. "You must hold to that which has gotten us this far." She lowered her eyes again, smiling gently at Raoul. "You must hold to our love for each other for that is the gift from God that has always brought us forth from the darkness. You must believe it shall do so now. You must!" The angel reached gentle hands to cup Raoul's face, kissing each eye in turn, resting her forehead against his. "What shall become of our child if you do not?"
"Help me," Raoul pleaded. "Please help me."
"Oh look," another voice entered the conversation. "He is asking for our help."
Raoul and the angel both looked up at the sound, the angel angry, Raoul frightened.
"He even managed to get himself into an upright position," Francois addressed Louis, a decidedly nasty smirk on his face.
"Stay away from him!" the angel warned as she rose to her feet, placing herself between Raoul and the tormentors entering the room.
Nico followed Louis and Francois into the room, still, unblinking, his gaze focused solely on Raoul.
Louis held up a hand causing Nico and Francois to stop where they were. He moved to stand before Raoul, looking calmly down at him. "When did you wake up?"
"It is all right," the angel told Raoul as she moved behind him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders, placing her cheek against his. "You can tell them."
Raoul raised his head to look at Louis, a slight moan escaping his lips from the pain in his head that the movement caused. "Just now," he said as he lowered his head.
"And do you find these accommodations much more to your liking than that barn stall?" Louis wondered, a smirk curling his lips. "Or that nasty iron box?"
"Say yes," the angel told him.
"Yes."
Louis turned to look over his shoulder at his two compatriots. "Now watch how simple words can cause more pain than any physical torture could ever hope to cause," he said softly – his words meant only for them - before turning back to Raoul and squatting down in front of him.
"I am glad you like your new surroundings," Louis began. "Would you like to stay here?"
"Yes," Raoul whispered without raising his lowered eyes.
"I think that could be arranged," Louis said, turning one last time to look at Francois and Nico, winking at them; he turned his attention back to Raoul. "It is not exactly the fine accommodations to which you are accustomed …"
"Tell them it will be fine," the angel urged.
"It will be fine," Raoul repeated her words.
"Good," Louis nodded and sighed. "Would you like to hear about your wife?"
"What?" Raoul said as he finally raised his eyes to look at the man before him.
"I bring news about your wife from …" a puzzled look briefly crossed his face. "Oh where is it that your brother lives?" The puzzled look was quickly replaced by a falsely innocent, thoroughly unpleasant smile. "That's right – some huge chateau called Chagny." Louis was finding great pleasure in the emotions that were playing over his hostage's face.
"Do not listen to him," the angel warned. "Please – I beg you! – do not listen to him!"
Louis reached out a hand to straighten Raoul's shirt, patting his chest. "It seems your lovely wife has fled Chagny and returned to Paris." He took his hand back. "Not only that but she has now disappeared from Paris. It is said your staff thought she was returning to Chagny. Now there are others who have said she has been seen in the vicinity of the old opera house. They say she has fled right back into the arms of her phantom lover and that he has claimed your wife and your child as his own." Louis rose to his feet, enjoying the fact that Raoul's eyes never left his face. "Enjoy your new room." Louis turned on his heel, motioning for Nico and Francois to follow him out the door, where they stood in silence.
Raoul sit quietly for a moment, Louis' words ringing in his ears. His eyes scanned the room, searching for – and unable to find – his angel. His eyes closed as his heart broke into a million pieces. "No," Raoul said with a shake of his head. "No," he repeated, struggling with the images Louis' words conjured in his mind. "No!" he screamed as he collapsed against the bed he sat next to, sliding to floor, his hands going over his face. "No, no, no," the muffled cries came, just audible to those who waited beyond the threshold.
Outside the door, Louis turned in triumph to his two companions. "That, gentlemen, is pain," he said and moved away down the stairs to the first floor, Francois on his heels.
Nico stood for a moment, staring into the room through the slightly opened door. "You have not even begun to see pain," he whispered as he shut the door. "Any of you," came the snarled whisper. "I am going to rain down pain such as Satan himself never dreamt!"
While Nico made plans to challenge Satan's supremacy, Satan was busy haunting the dreams of another. Or at least Henri thought Satan was haunting his dreams.
"It is payment for all my sins," Henri muttered as he sat on the steps of the back portico, head in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair.
"So you have said," Didier muttered back. "Several times, in fact."
Henri quickly rose to his feet, whirling to look at Didier who sat in one of the many chairs that lined the portico. "If you are so tired of listening to me, why do you just not leave? I did not ask you here!"
"No, you did not ask me here." Didier, too, rose to his feet. "You did not because you would not. You would not ask for my help or counsel if you were on your deathbed and Lucifer, himself, was tallying up all your sins." An angry frown crossed his handsome face. "You are just like every other damn Chagny my family has had the misfortune to cross!" Didier threw up his hands. "God! You should have been the one taken and murdered!"
Henri stared at his friend – the silence between them heavy with emotion. "Do you not think I know that?" Henri finally screamed at the top of his lungs. "Do you not think I look at each and every one of the faces about me and know that they wish it was me lying dead in that crypt and not Raoul? Do you not think I know what I am? What I am not?" Henri grimaced. "I know that I am not the clean-hearted boy my cousin was! I know that I am not noble or courageous or selfless! I know that I am drunken, obnoxious womanizer! I know that all of you think I am an ignorant lout who does nothing but bring disgrace to my family's name!" Henri's face was red with emotion. "And it should be me lying in the crypt! It should! The world would be a far better place without me! This family would be far better without me!" Henri turned his back to Didier and stumbled down the stairs to the pathway that led to the formal gardens.
"Henri," Didier said as he jumped up, moving quickly after his friend, "please – wait!"
Henri ran down the pathway, finally falling over his feet, to his knees, his head going to his hands. He tried to shake off the hands he felt upon his shaking shoulders; they only tightened their gentle hold.
"I did not mean it," Didier said softly. "I am sorry. I did not mean my words. I spoke out of worry and fear for you and out of turn. I am sorry!"
Henri raised his head but focused on the empty hands before his eyes. "But you spoke the truth," he began softly. "It should have been me." He sighed, shuddering as he bit back his emotions. "I wish it had been me."
"I do not," Didier replied.
"No one ever asked me what I thought or how I felt," Henri continued. "I know that everyone was worried over Philippe and Christine but Raoul was my cousin." His eyes closed, tears slipping from beneath the closed lids. "He was my playmate when we were young. We would chase each other all over the countryside and battle fantastic creatures. He was the one who helped me study so that I would not fail out of school." Henri laughed - a cold, lonely sound. "He never let me fail. He always thought I could do better … be better. And what did I do with that friendship, that belief?" Henri shook his head. "Oh God, Didier, I took it and I twisted it and I betrayed everything that had ever been between us." Henri finally opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the man standing behind him. "And now I will never get the chance to make it up to him."
Didier's heart was breaking for his friend. He moved around and knelt before Henri. "But you can make it up to him. You can take that belief that Raoul had in you and you can trust in it, know that it is truth. You can stop drinking and stop playing quite so hard." He managed a crooked smile. "But you cannot stop playing altogether for then who would I have to keep me company?"
In all his sorrow, Henri could not find a smile to give Didier in return. "I do not know how," he said pitifully. "Can you show me how?"
"That is what friends are for," Didier replied, laying a gentle hand on Henri's arm.
Henri swallowed and nodded. "Perhaps … perhaps …" he stuttered, "perhaps that is what the cross is trying to tell me. Perhaps it is Raoul telling me that there is a second chance for me. Perhaps it is not an awful symbol of God's punishment." He looked hopefully at Didier. "Do you think that is possible?"
"Anything is possible," Didier answered, knowing not to say another word, knowing that his friend ran on emotion and that Henri was as likely to obsessively cling to this new idea as he was to cling to the newest barmaid.
"Anything is possible," Henri repeated quietly and rose to his feet, brushing off his knees, watching as Didier did the same. "Anything is possible," Henri said again, his voice growing stronger. He clapped a friendly hand on Didier's shoulder. "Anything is possible!"
"And if you do not stop repeating that, I shall show you just what is possible!" Didier playfully warned
Henri laughed heartily. "Anything is possible!" he reminded Didier. "What would you say to a walk down to the stables and then a ride across the countryside?"
"I would say if it is just a ride, then I am all for it."
Henri grew sober "Just a ride and a walk," he promised, "just a ride and a walk."
Monique, too, was walking across Chagny property, crossing the green swells of valley that lay between the great house and the chapel. She paused before the chapel, crossing herself, offering up a silent prayer for all those that she loved, before turning toward the family cemetery that lay behind the chapel.
Her feet moved easily over the well-tended pathways, past ancient tombstones, crooked and worn by weather. She moved past small mausoleums housing entire generations of Chagnys who had helped to make the valley what it was on that day. Monique kept her eyes fixed on the small copse of trees at the very back edge of the cemetery, knowing that the old and the young who had gone before watched her with a cautious eye, urging her on, wishing her well, praying for her.
Monique paused as she drew within sight of the small stone crypt protectively hugged by the surrounding trees, a sad sigh escaping her lips at the sight of the man sitting on the newly installed stone bench, his gaze fixed on the crypt.
"Oh, Philippe," she breathed, the tears coming to her eyes.