Chapter Summary: On what would have been Raoul's birthday – people make decisions. Philippe decides what to do with what Raoul and Christine left behind. Henri decides what to do with his life. Louis decides that Raoul has suffered enough at Nico's hands. Nico decides otherwise. As Erik returns to Christine, Tallis and Antoinette discuss her decision; Antoinette giving Tallis a different option for her life. And Christine goes to the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Boulogne to light a candle and talk with her husband.

Author's Notes: "S'truth" is English Victorian slang for "God's Truth." Henri being English would know this – of course! And I do not know what all of the inside of the cathedral in Boulogne looks like so the representation of the statues before which Christine kneels are drawn from childhood memories of the statues at Saint Joseph's. And finally - thanks to everyone who is still reading. I had no idea when I started this that it would so long but this story will just not be rushed. I think there may another fifteen or so chapters and an epilogue. We shall see!

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

Philippe sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the room around him. The room had been cleaned in the intervening months, dust chased away, glass polished, bed linens changed. He shook his head. Nothing had truly changed and yet everything had changed for there were still little touches scattered about that spoke of the person whose room this had been. Clothes still hung in the wardrobe and rested in drawers lined with tissue paper. An extra pair of riding boots stood discreetly at attention in one corner while a pair of shoes peaked out from beneath the bed skirt. A silver-gilt brush rested atop the long dresser, stray blonde hairs poking out from the bristles.

"I cannot do this," Philippe said. "I just … cannot."

Arthur stood lounging near the doorway. "No one is asking you to," he replied.

"I thought I could, you understand," Philippe told him, a frown crossing his face. "It's been over three months. I am ready to move on or I thought I was; but sitting here looking at all of this – I just do not know. I feel that I will somehow forget if I pack his things away or give them away."

"Philippe," Arthur's heart was breaking for his friend. "You will never forget, you know that as surely as I; none of us will ever forget Raoul. And, perhaps, it is still too soon to go through his things or to make those kind of decisions on your own. Do not forget, though, that you have promised us that you are ready to move on. You have promised us that you are ready to begin living again."

Philippe nodded his head and sighed. "I am ready. I am …" His words were cut off by the appearance of Mathilde in the doorway. "Yes?"

It broke Mathilde's heart to see Philippe in such sorrow once again. She remembered the young man who had always been so gracious to her, who took charge of his infant brother, when the child's father could not. She thought fondly of the young man who had matured into the gracious adult who managed his household with such care, playfully needling at his staff, all the while knowing that he had their respect at every moment. "What do you wish to do with Madame's things?" she asked gently and turned to Arthur as Philippe's eyes closed and his shoulders slumped.

Arthur frowned at her and shook his head slightly and they turned back to look at Philippe, awaiting his decision.

"Close the rooms," Philippe said as he straightened, opening his eyes. "Dust cover the furniture, lock the drawers and the wardrobes and lock the doors. Then I wish you to give me the keys to everything."

"What about the jewelry?" Mathilde wondered, knowing that Christine had left several very valuable pieces in the dresser drawers of her room.

Philippe rose to his feet. "Everything is to be locked up. This chateau is huge and two locked rooms will not be missed." A wry smile briefly crossed his face. "Talked about, perhaps, as a mystery to be solved but not missed." His blue eyes scanned the room. "Not the rooms," he whispered almost to himself before turning his attention to Arthur. "I want you to telegraph Pierre and have the Paris staff pack everything that belonged to Raoul and Christine in trunks and convey the trunks to the attic – save the jewelry. Have Pierre convey that back to my banker for I may have need of it in the future." Philippe crossed the room, placing gentle hands on the arms of his two friends. "It really is time to start living again. It is time to begin closing the chateau and making plans to return to Paris." He smiled at the look on Mathilde's face. "I am trusting you to keep this place ready for my return."

"As always," she promised him.

"Perhaps – with luck and God's grace – I shall return with a lovely wife to help bring life back to this place," Philippe said as he turned to smile slightly at Arthur. "Now, let us go and find some lunch and discuss what needs to be done."

Arthur and Mathilde left the room, followed by Philippe.

"I shall be right down," Philippe said as they turned to him. Philippe waited until Arthur and Mathilde had disappeared down the grand staircase. Once he was certain they were gone, Philippe turned on his heel, reaching for the knob of the door before him, pulling it gently shut. "Goodbye, Christine," he whispered and turned to the door behind him, pulling that shut, resting his palm on the smooth wood for a moment, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. "Happy Birthday, Raoul."

The same words were slipping from Henri's lips as he sat with his back against his cousin's tomb. "Happy Birthday, Raoul," he breathed and took a sip from flask in his hands. Henri raised his eyes to look at the blue of an autumn sky. "I do not know what I am going to do," he whispered, another burning sip of whiskey sliding down his throat.

A flock of birds danced high overhead, their calls echoing back down to earth, as they began their yearly trek southwards in search of something warmer than that which chased at their tail feathers.

"I should follow their example," Henri said, "and just go." He leaned his head against the cool stones. "Do you remember that manor in the high moors along the Scottish border? Remember how bleak and isolated it was? Remember how we used to run over the moors, playing border raiders?" Henri laughed – a sad little sound – as his eyes closed. "Do you remember the day we got lost and huddled in the rubble of the crofter's cottage until my father and Philippe found us, drenched to the skin from the rain? S'truth, did we get into trouble!"

Henri opened his eyes to see the last of the birds disappearing from view over the mountains. "I do not think I am going to be joining Philippe in Paris," he told the silent countryside. "I think I am going to return to my parents and tell them the truth – they probably all ready know the lack of character their only child possesses. They will help – they have to help! that is what parents do." Henri took another sip from the flask. "That is what you used to do."

The silence of the countryside closed in about him and Henri could feel the weight of it pressing against his heart and soul. He raised the flask to his lips and drained the remaining whiskey before rising to his feet and walking to the front of Raoul's tomb. He placed his forehead against the iron door, pushing into the roughness of the metal, letting the sensation remind him that he was still alive.

"I need to straighten my life out," Henri whispered to his cousin's remains. "I need to be sure what is real and what is a lie before I can say anything." He shook his head against the metal, knowing it would scratch his skin and not caring. "I betrayed you in life, I will not do so in death. I must be certain before I say anything." Henri raised his head, eyes staring at the door almost as if they could see inside. "I need to be certain of where I saw your cross before I betray anymore lives needlessly."

Henri took a step back, his hands clasped before him. "When Philippe returns to Paris, I am going to that manor in the moors, Raoul. I am going to ask my father to hire a doctor and a nurse to go with me. I am going to search my mind and my heart until I know what is truth and then I shall make it up to you. I shall tell what I know and then, maybe, you will stop haunting me."

Henri drew a deep sigh. "Perhaps then, your spirit will finally be at peace and silent."

"Why is he so silent?" Francois wondered as he stared at Raoul.

Louis, too, focused on the man laying silently, huddled in a corner of the sparsely furnished room. He studied the painfully thin frame, the blackened eye, the dried blood on the lips and the vacant eyes. There had been no movement since they had entered the room, no acknowledgement that their hostage was even aware of their presence. Louis bent over and placed a single finger on Raoul's neck, waiting several seconds before straightening. "He is alive," he said and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn him!" he shouted as he turned, stalking across the room and slamming a fist into a wall. "Merde!"

Francois had turned his attention from Raoul to Louis. "You think Nico did this?"

"Yes," he snarled before storming from the room, down the stairs and across the courtyard to the barn. Louis flung the door open to see Nico emerging from one of the storerooms, closing its door behind him and locking it. "Goddamn it, Nico!" he shouted. "What the hell did you do?"

Nico snapped the lock shut to the storeroom door and calmly turned around. "Mine," he announced, standing guard before the door.

"I do not give a fig for what is in that goddamn room!" Louis nearly ran across the barn floor, grabbing Nico by the shirt, lifting him from his feet and slamming him into the storeroom door. "What the hell did you do to our guest? The man is senseless!"

"Most aristocrats are." Nico was completely unphased by Louis' anger.

Louis did not let go of Nico's shirt. "Tell me what you did to him!"

"Put me down and I shall tell you."

Louis put Nico down and took back his hands.

Nico looked down and smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt before looking up. "He was talking to someone and I tired of it," he said softly, his eyes never moving, their lids unblinking, his voice deadly soft and even. "I hit him and hit him and hit him so that he would remain quiet. We do not want anyone to find us, to hear him."

The anger was visible on Louis' face. "No one knows where we are save for one. And who the hell is going to hear anyone up here in the mountains!"

"I hear," Nico replied.

"You stay the hell away from him from now on," Louis ordered, his finger poking Nico in the chest with each word as a strange punctuation to his order. "You are not to go near him! Ever again! Is that understood?"

"Yes," Nico replied, his eyes wide and innocent. "I shall not go near him again."

"See that you do not!" Louis shouted and turned on his heel. "Now I have got to figure out a way to clean up this mess so that we get to keep our heads and the money," he muttered to himself as he walked from the barn, his words trailing after him.

Nico leaned backward against the locked storeroom door. "You do not need to worry," he said in his strange sing-song voice. "I shall clean up. I shall clean it all up. No one shall ever see the mess again." A bizarre look crossed his face. "No one shall ever see my toy again." Nico straightened. "Put it away." He turned to the storeroom door. "Put it all away." A single hand reached out to caress the door. "Mine," Nico breathed. "All mine."

"Mine," Erik breathed into Tallis' ear. "All mine."

Tallis sighed and tightened her arms about Erik's waist. She turned her head to kiss his cheek. "Always," she breathed back. "I want you to know that. I shall always be yours."

Erik drew back, a strange look passing over his face as he studied the woman in his arms. "What does that mean?"

"Must you think there is always something sinister in every word spoken?" Tallis wondered.

Erik frowned. "Yes."

"I am not you," Tallis reminded him.

"And I am very grateful that you are not," he replied, a finger reaching up to trace the contours of Tallis' face. "I am so very grateful." Erik took his hand back. "But I still wish to know what that means."

Tallis rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It means that wherever you go, whomever you are with, you shall always carry my heart with you; just as surely as I carry yours with me."

Erik closed his eyes and shook his head. "I wonder what your parents will say to that," he said softly. "And I wonder why you put up with my suspicions, my nonsense, my …" He was interrupted by a finger on his lips and opened his eyes.

"I put up with it because you are always in my heart," Tallis told him with a small smile. "And my parents will be very happy that I have found someone to love. And when you are forgiven and free, I shall take you to meet them."

"No," the tone of Erik's voice was insistent. "Most definitely not."

"You will meet my parents and they will love you because I do," Tallis told him, her eyes watching the myriad of emotions that played over Erik's face. "You will do this for me," she said again; still not reply from the man in her arms. "I can be just as stubborn as you," Tallis reminded Erik.

"We shall see," Erik finally replied.

"That is enough," Tallis told him, reaching up for a lingering kiss, her arms once again snaking around Erik's waist, moving up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Tallis broke the kiss, turning her head. "I love you," she whispered in Erik's ear, her head turning back as she planted kisses on his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks, his lips before pulling back, tears in her eyes. "You should go before you miss your train."

"I love you," Erik said as gave Tallis one last kiss, turning to enter the coach that waited patiently at Madame Giry's doorstep. As the coach began to move down the small drive, Erik opened the window and stuck his head out, waving goodbye.

Tallis raised her hand in reply and watched as the coach turned into the traffic on the broad avenue before turning and entering the home, closing the door behind her. She stood silently for a moment as she battled the tears that wanted to start before giving in to them. Trembling hands rose to her face and Tallis sobbed into them. She was drawn from her sorrow by a touch on her arm.

"Come with me," Antoinette told her as she took Tallis by the hand and guided the young woman to her sitting room. Antoinette sat Tallis down on the sofa and took a seat beside her, watching as Tallis got her tears under control before speaking again. "Are you sure this is what you wish to do?" she finally asked.

Tallis nodded and accepted the lace handkerchief that Antoinette offered, dabbing at her eyes before running the lace back and forth through her hands.

"Why?" Antoinette wondered.

Tallis turned her head so that she would not have to look at the woman before her. "Because I have seen the hope in his eyes when he speaks of Christine," she began softly. "I do not think he even realizes it is there."

"I am certain of it," Antoinette said with a frown.

"He is insisting that he must continue to go to her until he is certain she delivers a healthy child," Tallis said as she turned back to Antoinette. "Even if she forgives him, he will not let her go!" Tallis rose to her feet and began to pace. "I cannot compete with her. I am not thin and elegant. I am not talented or intelligent." She paused for a moment looking down at herself. "I should be in one of the paintings by Monsieur Rubens that you showed me. I should be living on a farm raising fat children and churning butter." Tallis sighed. "I should stop dreaming of things beyond my station."

"Do not think so harshly of yourself!" Antoinette's voice was slightly raised, attracting Tallis' attention. "You have much to offer! You are honest and willing to learn. Perhaps, you are not the ideal image of what society deems a woman should be but you are lovely and I have seen men turn to look at you when we are together in public. You pull people to you with your charm and honesty, making them feel comfortable in your presence." Antoinette nodded. "And that, my dear, is a gift given to few."

"But it is not enough for him," Tallis said sadly.

"You know I love him," Antoinette replied. "I pitied him first and then came the compassion and finally the love for a dear friend; but I am not blind to his faults." A look of irritation flashed across her eyes. "What he needs is a good spanking." She smiled at Tallis. "Yet I doubt it will do any good other than to further irritate him."

Tallis managed a smile and a nod.

Antoinette held out her hand. "Come," she told Tallis and waited until the young woman was once again seated next to her. "Are you truly certain you wish to do this?"

"I am," Tallis told her. "The Baroness took me to the telegraph office yesterday and I have informed my parents. I do not think my cousins will be too horribly shocked when I appear on their doorstep." She shook her head. "We have a great fondness for each other and they are much like me – simple folk."

Antoinette managed a small laugh. "You are not 'simple folk', my dear child." She reached behind a pillow on the sofa, extracting a satin pouch that she placed into Tallis' hands. "This is some money I wish you to put away."

"I cannot accept this …" Tallis began.

"I am afraid I am going to have to insist that you do," Antoinette told her. "I wish you take it and keep it safe and should you ever desire to return to Paris, to me," her voice lowered, "to Erik, you are to use this money to do so. There is enough money there for a comfortable, safe trip from England to France." Antoinette laid a hand over Tallis'. "From Kingsand to Paris for I am not going anywhere."

Tallis broke into tears and Antoinette gathered the young woman into her arms, placing Tallis head upon her shoulder. "Why did I have to fall in love with him?" Tallis asked around her sobs. "Why?"

"Why?" Christine asked as she stood at the bottom of the steps that led into the Cathedral of Notre Dame, staring up at the huge dome.

"Pardon?" Marie wondered.

Christine turned to face her, a small smile on her face. "I am just talking to God," she said and turned her attention to the restaurants and shops that lined the Rue de Lille. Christine reached into her reticule and handed money to Marie. "Take this and go find something lovely for dinner tonight," she said, her eyes suddenly twinkling. "And chocolate; find a chocolate cake for that was something that Raoul loved. He always had such a love of sweets." The twinkling in Christine's eyes began to be blurred by tears. "I shall always mourn my husband but tonight we need to celebrate his life." A single hand reached for the child she carried. "To celebrate the life with which he blessed me."

Marie looked curiously at the bills in her hand. "It is a lot of money, Madame," she shook her head and corrected herself. "Christine."

"One night, Marie," Christine told her. "It is only for one night." She raised her eyes to the carriage driver. "Can you meet us back here in two hours?"

"Aye, Madame," he replied with a tip of his cap. "Two hours, it shall be."

"Two hours?" Marie wondered.

"I need some time with my husband," Christine said softly and smiled again. "And buy yourself something silly; it is always good for the spirit."

Marie smiled inwardly, knowing just what it was she would buy. "I promise," she said and glanced at the watch on a chain about her neck. "I shall return in two hours time."

"Thank you," Christine said as she turned back to the cathedral and climbed the steps, opening the doors to the bright interior and standing silently for a moment. She looked at the people scattered about the pews, kneeling in prayer and sitting in silent contemplation. The sound of a door opening caught her attention and she saw an elderly man leaving the confessional. Hands reached up to adjust the veil that hung from her black cap and Christine walked down the long center aisle. Christine stopped halfway down and turned right moving down a side aisle to pause before a set of statues.

The Virgin Mary set upon one of the shelves that jutted out from the wall, candles in blue votive glasses flickering before her. Christine turned her eyes to the other statue, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. Saint Joseph rested upon the other shelf, one hand over his heart, the other hand carefully cradling a smiling Infant with blonde curls and an upraised hand. Christine knelt before that statue, slipping a franc note into the offering tin and lighting one of the candles in the red votive glasses, crossing herself and bending her head in prayer for a moment.

"Happy Birthday, my love," she whispered as she raised her head, one hand wiping at the tears on her cheeks, the other going to massage the small of her back. Christine slowly and rather awkwardly rose to her feet and moved to sit in one of the pews that faced the statues and candles, her thoughts turning inward.

"I have been so angry," she thought. "Angry with those men for what they did to you, angry with you for not listening to me when I screamed for you as you rode away from Chagny that day." Christine shook her head. "And most importantly I have been so very angry with myself for allowing this to happen. I often wondered how long I would be angry. How long I would hate the world for continuing to live when my life had stopped." She bit her bottom lip. "How long it would be before I knew you had forgiven me."

The butterfly returned. "And now I know." Christine sighed, smiling, reaching for her precious butterfly as the tears began again. "The baby is moving, Raoul. Our child – your child – is real and alive and moving!" A happy laugh escaped Christine's lips. "She has your touch, my love; soft and gentle." Christine brushed away her tears. "I was so afraid this would never happen. I was afraid that I would be punished for letting you die. I was afraid I would lose this last piece of you. I was afraid she would die, too; everyone I have ever loved has died. I do not think I could have borne any more loss."

Christine sat silently for a moment, feeling the small flutterings from her child, her eyes fixed upon the candle she had lit for her husband. Her thoughts drifted away in the silence of the great cathedral, drifting back to two children chasing each other along a golden beach, their hands reaching out, fluttering as they grasped at jackets, trying to hold onto something that always seemed just beyond reach. The hand resting on her child began to trace gentle circles over the black silk of her gown.

"Your baby is moving," Christine thought again, feeling the wonder of it wash over her like a flood. "You are trusting me with this miracle." She raised her eyes to the ceiling almost as if she could see to Heaven. "It is as if you trust that I am finally grown up enough to care for your child." Her eyes closed briefly. "And you would not do so unless you had forgiven me." Christine could almost see Raoul's eyes sparkle with delight as her hands guided his own over her swollen middle, tracing the movements of their child. She lowered her eyes and opened them. "I will not fail you this time."

"And now that I am forgiven, I am free to forgive." Christine sighed inwardly. "I will forgive him for both of us for I know you have released all your earthly burdens and would want for me to release mine. It is time to let him go, to let him find the peace you have found. It is time to forgive him and break that last bond that pulls my heart down. It is time to admit that part of me did love him so that he will know he has the right to be loved." Christine's hands joined together and she massaged her wedding band and engagement ring. "Just as I had the right to be loved, the right to continue to love."

Christine rose to her feet, crossing to the statues and kneeling once again. She bowed her head, resting it against clasped hands. "Free," she thought, "I am finally free." Christine shook her head. "Why did it take your loss to make me realize that?" Christine raised her head, opening her eyes and kissing the rings that Raoul had given her on they day they had sworn to be together for all their days.

"Happy birthday, Raoul," she whispered. "I love you. I shall always love you."