Chapter Summary: Henri continues to be pursued by his demons. A small event that begins in the middle of the night finally chases away Christine's demons. Tallis finds amusement in Val's brother-in-law, Serge. Erik finds longed-for words slipping from his lips in the heat of anger. And something that she sees in Erik's eyes forces Tallis to make a decision.

CHAPTER FIFTY

It was still dark when he rose, dressed and exited silently from his room. He knew the back ways through the great house having explored each of them as a child. He moved quietly down a long unused staircase, now only trod upon when the staff cleaned it once a month. He slipped quietly through a side door and out into the cool autumn morning. He spared one last backward glance at the still sleeping house before beginning to walk across the dew-covered grass. His walk began slowly as remnants of sleep fled from his mind, the pace picking up as the clarity of wakefulness took over and he was able to hear the howling of his demons in the distant reaches of his mind. He ran across the grounds pursued by images he could not have imagined nor understood …

"I simply do not understand," Raoul said, a frown creasing his handsome features.

"Of course you do not understand," Henri replied as he glanced in a mirror and straightened his tie, "you are perfect. You have no fears and worries or doubts."

"Now that is just not true!" Raoul insisted.

Henri turned to face his cousin. "Of course it is true!" Henri was just as insistent as he waved a hand in Raoul's direction. "Look at you! You are everything every generation of our family has longed to produce – you are handsome and educated, polite, honest …"

Raoul sighed and rolled his eyes. "I wish you would not start, as well!" he interrupted. "I do not sit well on that damn pedestal everyone in this family wishes to place me upon. I have my flaws and my shortcomings as well as the next person."

"Where?" Henri wondered, staring at his cousin and waiting for an answer.

"Well … um …" Raoul stuttered.

Henri laughed and shook his head. "You had best learn to like it upon that pedestal! I have a feeling you are going to be upon it for a great long while!"

Raoul frowned and sat upon the edge of an armchair. "I should just go and pick up the prettiest chorus girl I can find this evening and marry her just to prove I can be as flawed as the next person."

"Please!" Henri exclaimed. "You know you are going to marry a fairy."

Raoul grew serious. "That dream went the way of long afternoons at the swimming hole and summers in Perros."

Henri, too, grew serious. "I am sorry," he said softly. "I know her memory still hurts." He sighed and shrugged. "You see what it is I speak about? I have not yet had even one drink this evening and all ready my tongue runs away with me."

Raoul rose to his feet, crossing to lay a friendly hand on his cousin's shoulder. "If it was anyone else," he began, "I would be hurt. But you are the only person who knows how much that memory truly means to me and you have never told." Raoul lowered his voice. "Just as I would never tell the secrets you share with me."

There was a long moment of silence between the two cousins.

"Now," Raoul said in a more cheerful tone, "let us forget all this talk of not understanding, fears and doubts, perfection and pedestals and fairies and go out for a night on the town."

Henri perked up. "Can I have the first choice of chorus girls this evening?"

"Just this once," Raoul said with a wink …

Henri sagged against the corner of his cousin's tomb, out of breath, sliding down the cold stone till he was on his knees, the cool earth beneath. Henri opened wide his arms and placed them on either side of the corner he leaned against, almost as if he were hugging the tomb. "What am I going to do?" he whispered. "Dear God in Heaven, Raoul, what am I going to do?"

There was no answer and Henri closed his eyes and leaned his head against the stones.

"I keep seeing it, you know," he began softly. "It is always there, like some kind of accusing finger. It is like you are telling me you know what I tried to do with Christine and now you are going to punish me for my actions." Henri shook his head. "I did not mean it, you know; I would never have hurt either of you like that. It was the wine. It has always been the wine – too much wine for too many years. Too many years of trying to live up to the example that you set." Henri's knees began to shake. "I could never be you as much as I wished to be; I could never be you. I could never be good and honest. I could never have a woman like Christine to love me as she loved you."

Henri's face crumpled as he sank to all fours. Limbs gave out as Henri fell to his elbows, the muscles in his thighs yielding, bending so that they rested atop his calves. Henri broke into deep sobs as his forehead fell to the damp earth and there he stayed for several minutes, a human beetle, as he cried out his grief, guilt and fears. Slowly his sobs lessened and Henri returned to his knees, turning and sitting so that his back rested against the stones of Raoul's tomb. Henri placed his arms on upraised knees and clasped his hands together, the tears now falling silently down his cheeks.

"I wish you could tell me what you want with me," he said. "I wish you could tell me why I keep seeing the cross you wore" Henri raised his eyes to the dawn that was slowly beginning to creep over the mountaintops. "If you wanted to haunt me, to punish me, you could not have chosen a better way. It is bad enough to know that you are gone forever and will never be able to help me out of my own way again," He closed his eyes in pain. "But must even your spirit remind me that I shall never get to Heaven?" Henri bent his head over to rest on his clasped hands. "What am I to do? Please tell me what I am to do!"

There was no answer forthcoming from the cool autumn morning. After listening to the silence for several moments, Henri lifted his head, unclasped his hands and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling forth a silver flask. He unstoppered it and inhaled the slightly earthy aroma rising from within the flask's dark depth. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply, coughing slightly as he lowered the flask.

"Whiskey is a bit stronger than wine," Henri said, staring at the flask. "It helps to chase away the visions more quickly." He leaned his head back against the tomb, hearing his cousin's voice in his head. "I know I should not do this. I know. I know I know," his voice trailed off. "Yet I do not know what else to do! I cannot say anything because I do not even know if what I am seeing is true or just your ghost tormenting me." Henri reached a single hand up to swipe at his eyes. "What if I were to say what I know and destroy innocent lives because I thought I saw something that does not exist?

Another swig of the whiskey. Another cough.

"There has been too much loss, too much destruction," Henri said softly with a shake of his head. "I cannot bring anymore forth. I just … cannot." He took another drink from the flask he held. "I am a coward, Raoul; forgive me. Please forgive me." Henri raised the flask to his lips and downed what remained inside in the space of one breath. He closed his eyes and allowed the flask to fall from his hands, making no sound as it hit the grass. Henri let out a long breath and choked as the frightened, haunted sobs returned. He placed his hands over his face and did not try to fight them.

Christine, too, did not try to fight the tears that all too easily flowed down her cheeks as she cried over the man whose memory wrenched such pain from Henri's soul. Yet while Christine's tears were still pained, they were no longer angry or despairing. They were tears that cleansed the dark spots from memory, wiped the dirt from the windows to the soul. They were tears of relief that brought forth grace and mercy, forgiveness flooding a heart full to bursting. They were tears of healing and hope and promise. They were tears of bittersweet happiness that caused Christine to smile in their midst.

She stood at the window of her bedroom, staring at the ocean in the distance, a single hand tracing gentle circles over her child. "Oh Raoul," she whispered softly and sniffled. "I wish you could be here …" Christine's voice trailed off as her mind wandered back over the last few days, the small event that had set in motion the rain of mercy and forgiveness in which she now found herself washed.

It had begun simply enough, a small rolling sensation in the middle of the night. She had thought nothing of it, placing it down to indigestion from the late dinner she had eaten. She had chosen to ignore it, rolling over instead and returning back to a sleep full of images from a life lost. Her dreams that night had been gentler, less vivid than those of the previous months. She had dreamt of warmth and light, strong arms and musical laughter. She had awakened in the morning feeling refreshed with a sense of peace slowly creeping outwards from the cracks that widened in the melting ice of her heart and soul. The little rolling, fluttering sensation had returned that afternoon as she had climbed the winding pathway up from the beach. A frown had crossed her face as she paused halfway up the path, unable to place the new sensation, worrying it was something wrong, something that presaged trouble looming forth. She had resumed walking, picking up her pace as she began to panic, anxious to get back to the safety of her home.

And then she stopped as she reached the top of the cliff as the little rolling, fluttering sensation once again demanded her attention. Her eyes had grown wide as her mind finally realized what was happening. She had turned to look back over the ocean that glittered in the afternoon sun, both hands going over her child as the tears began to fall. "It is real," she kept whispering. "It is real."

Christine sighed as the little butterfly returned, pulling her attention from the window and her memories. She looked down at her rounded middle and smiled. "How I wish your father were here," she said softly to her child. "He would smile and laugh when I told him. Then he would lean over and kiss you and tell you that he loved you." Her eyes closed briefly. "And that he loved me." Trembling hands reached up to brush away tears and Christine opened her eyes, a smile gracing her lips. "He still loves us. I know that now."

The gentle smile remained on Christine's face as she left her bedroom and went to the kitchen on the first floor of her leased home. She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at the bright light streaming in from the windows, the hand-tatted lace on the table, the simple pottery. Christine could smell bread warming on the hearth and she could hear Marie humming as she did something at one of the work surfaces. "Home," Christine breathed. "Safe, warm, comfortable home."

Marie turned around at the sound of those softly breathed words. "Good morning," she began and a puzzled look crossed her face. "What?" she wondered.

Christine walked into the kitchen and over to the wood stove, picking up the tea towel before she picked up the teapot and poured water over the full strainer that rested on the rim of a cup. "What … what?" she repeated.

"There is something different about you." Marie placed her hands on her hips. "I am not quite sure what it is but there is definitely something different."

"There is," Christine said as she turned to face Marie. "But I cannot tell you what it is just yet." She shook her head as Marie opened her mouth. "It is nothing that need not worry you and for now I would like it to remain my secret."

Marie studied Christine - her glowing eyes, the smile that refused to be curtailed and a thought began to grow in the back of her mind. Marie smiled inwardly and kept her thought to herself. "If you insist," she said. "But I am glad to see you looking truly happy again."

"I am truly happy," Christine said softly. "It is a strange, sad happiness for I should be sharing it with …" Christine turned her head for moment, composing her emotions and turned back to look at Marie. "Tomorrow would have been Raoul's birthday and I would like to venture into the city. I want to go to the cathedral and light a candle for him."

Marie waved a hand. "Do not worry over it. I shall go down to the fishing village later today and hire a coach and driver for tomorrow."

"I should be doing that."

"No," Marie was insistent. "I will do it and I will see what the catch is this day; perhaps there will be something special and we can celebrate this thing that has returned the smile to your face. You will stay here and," she could not help but smile, "enjoy your secret."

The little butterfly returned and Christine sighed, closing her eyes. "I should like that."

"I should like that," Tallis said to the young man with blonde curly hair who stood with her in the parlor at Madame Giry's home.

Serge von Theissen-Koenig smiled warmly at the young woman before him, taking her hand in his own, raising it to his lips as he clicked his heels together. His blue eyes sparkled merrily as Tallis laughed. "What, pray tell, fraulein, brings such a merry sound to your lips?"

Tallis had the good sense to blush. "I am sorry."

"Please," Serge pressed her, "I wish to know so that I may do it again."

Tallis looked at him and saw no guile in those warm, blue eyes and she gave Serge a sweet smile. "Please do not think me backward or ignorant …"

"Never!" Serge proclaimed as he laid a hand over his heart. "I am not such a poor creature as that!"

"But I found it very," Tallis lowered her eyes and looked at Serge from beneath her lashes, "amusing that you clicked your heels together." She momentarily caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "I do not think anyone has ever saluted me in such a manner. I do not think I have ever been saluted before … ever!"

Serge sighed and pulled at a blonde curl. "Ah, it is the German manners my father drilled into me. He was a stern disciplinarian who insisted on proper behavior at all times." He leaned forward from the waist, lowering his voice so that the moment became intimate. "If we did not click our heels in salute when we addressed him, he would click his tongue and we would spend the rest of the day clicking our heels together. It became quite painful, I assure you."

Tallis joined his laughter. "Thank you for not finding me too backward for saying what I did," she finally said as the laughter died down.

"Such things are for the generation of our parents and those who have gone before," Serge told her. "A new century is coming and things will change and we must change with them." He smiled warmly at her. "Where better to start than by breaking down the barriers set in place by those generations?"

The blush returned to Tallis' cheeks as she studied her toes.

"I shall make the arrangements and you need worry for nothing," he assured her.

"Thank you," Tallis told him as she extended her hand, finding it once again raised to Serge's lips.

"I shall see myself out," he told her. "Till later, fraulein," he finished and turned smartly on his heel, leaving the room.

Tallis turned to the woman who sat silently in a chair by the window, chaperoning the scene that had unfolded before her. "Well," Tallis said rather weakly.

"Well, indeed," Antoinette told her with a solemn expression.

"What is the matter?" Tallis worried. "Did I do something wrong?"

Antoinette rose to her feet. "I suggest you ask the man standing behind you," she said as she crossed the room, laying a hand on Tallis' arm before walking to the door and repeating the action on Erik's tense arm. "I do not wish to see this," she finished and disappeared down the hall, her footsteps echoing as they climbed the stairs.

Tallis slowly turned around to see Erik standing the doorway to the parlor, his hand slowly closing the door, the look on his face decidedly unpleasant. Tallis ran over to him and placed her arms about his neck, kissing his marred cheek. "When did you get back?" she wondered, worried that she had not received a response to her actions.

"Obviously not soon enough," Erik muttered as he extracted himself from her embrace. He walked across the parlor floor and plopped down on the sofa, glaring at the woman standing on the other side of the room.

"How was Christine?" Tallis asked. "Has she forgiven you yet?"

"That is none of your business," Erik replied, his tone harsh in its evenness. "Who was that man?"

Tallis crossed her arms over her waist. "That is none of your business," she told him; two could play at that game.

Erik folded his hands in his lap. "For a woman who protested loudly that she was nothing like Christine, you certainly seem to be following in her footsteps. He is as perfect as the Vicomte and he seems to be as taken with you as you are with him." Erik glowered at Tallis. "What were you planning on doing with him – eloping, perhaps?"

Tallis glowered right back at Erik as she breathed through her nose, feeling her heart race with emotion. "Perhaps," she replied softly, "at least Herr Count von Theissen-Koenig …"

"And a member of the nobility, as well," Erik interrupted her. "How very like that woman you despise and pity."

"Are you going to throw every word I have ever spoken to you back in my face?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Erik replied calmly. "As long as you continue to feel free to share your emotions with every," Erik slowly rose to his feet, "handsome, available man who piques your interest …"

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Tallis spat out. "I have done nothing wrong!"

"That is not what I observed!"

"What do you know about it?" Tallis cried.

"I know that you are the second woman in my life who has lied to me and used me for her own purposes!" Erik's voice was raised in anger. "You are no better than Christine once was!"

"That is all it needed," Tallis said softly and turned her back on the room, opening the closed door. She would never set foot out the door. Tallis found herself grabbed the shoulders and whirled around.

"Do not ever turn your back on me!" Erik shouted. "Do not ever walk out on me!"

"You are not my family," Tallis shouted back, feeling herself shaken by the strong hands gripping her arms. "You have no right to tell me how to behave or who I can see!"

"I am the man who loves you!" Erik told her. "I have every right!"

"You have no right to anything!" Tallis shouted, her anger preventing her from hearing the words that had slipped from Erik's lips. She pulled back from the man who was shaking her, twisting away, her feet stumbling over each other, sending her falling forward, face first into the edge of the door.

"Tallis!" Erik cried out as she crumpled to the floor. He was at her side in an instant, turning her gently over, his heart going to this throat as he saw the cut over her brow beginning to swell. "Oh God," he breathed. "What have I done?"

Two hands raised themselves to weakly push at him. "Let me be," Tallis whispered, her words slightly slurred.

Erik gathered Tallis into his arms and rose in one fluid movement. He crossed the room and placed her gently down on the sofa, slipping a pillow under her head. "Stay still," he ordered as he rose and went to the decanters on a nearby sideboard. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket, pouring water over it and returned to the sofa where Tallis was trying to push herself into a sitting position. "I said lay still," Erik ordered as he sat by her side, taking the wet linen and wiping at her cut. Erik continued to wipe at Tallis' forehead and he saw the tears running down her cheeks. "I am so sorry," he said as he stopped his actions. "I do not deserve it but can you ever forgive me?"

"What did you say?" Tallis asked him.

A puzzled look crossed Erik's face. "Are you certain you are not injured? I just asked you to forgive me."

Tallis opened her closed eyes. "No; before that. What did you say?"

A crooked smile crossed Erik's lips as he realized what she was asking. "That I was the man who loved you," he whispered.

"That's what I thought you said," Tallis sighed, a smile of satisfaction crossing her lips. She reached her hands to Erik. "Help me to sit, please."

"Are you sure?" he worried.

Tallis nodded and allowed Erik to raise her to a sitting position. "I have had worse tumbles in my life. This is nothing."

Erik lowered his head. "It does not feel like 'nothing' to me."

"You are not going to be the one with a headache for the rest of the day," Tallis told him.

"My heart aches," Erik said softly.

Tallis managed a bright smile for him. "But mine no longer does." She bit back the cry on her lips. "You love me!"

Erik winced as he looked at the bruise forming under the lump above her brow. "And look what my love has done to you."

"But you love me!" Tallis nearly chirped.

Erik let out a long breath. "I do love you," he admitted with a shake of his head, amazed at the revelation that had so easily slipped out. "I do not know when it happened or why but – God help us both – I do love you."

"She's forgiven you," Tallis said, "has she not? And now you are finally free and that is why you can say the words!"

"No, Christine has not yet forgiven me," Erik told her.

"Then why …" Tallis looked crestfallen. "Oh, it was just the anger speaking."

Erik took her hands in his and raised them – each in turn – to his lips. "No," he promised. "It was not the anger speaking. It was not the hurt speaking. It was not any emotion speaking. It was the man speaking. It was Erik speaking. It was my finally finding the courage to say the words you have been longing to hear. It was the possibility of losing you to a whole, perfect man that made me realize what I had before me, what I stood to lose." He shook his head. "I suddenly found myself – once again – facing a world that was cold and dark and so very lonely. It frightened me and I realized I had the power to stop it. I knew what I wanted and I was not afraid to say it." Erik gave Tallis a wan smile. "I love you and I am sorry it took my losing my temper for me to realize it."

"You really love me?" Tallis asked like a child seeking reassurance.

A reassurance that Erik was all too willing and happy to give her. He leaned forward and claimed her lips, not once but twice and again and again before drawing back. "I love you," he said simply.

Tallis swallowed and closed her eyes for a brief moment, a smile crossing her face as she reopened them. "And I love you so." She sighed and gently squeezed the hands that still held to hers. "Now tell me of your journey. Tell me of Christine." Tallis listened as Erik began to speak of Christine and the time they shared together. She studied his eyes as he spoke of their time walking on the beach, their quiet conversation and the joy in her heart that had begun to glow with the words he had spoken, began to slowly fade away. It was replaced by a dawning knowledge, a remembrance of a warning she had spoken to him.

Tallis watched the hope glow brighter and brighter in Erik's eyes with each word that spilled from his lips and she knew what she needed to do.