Chapter Summary: Christine finds that she cannot sleep and goes to seek out her husband. And in the middle of the night a family is found. Erik breakfasts with Antoinette and receives some news that turns his world upside down.
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Sleep did not come easy for Christine that night. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed – any bed – put her head down and find peace in a dark stillness she would not remember in the light of day. Christine wanted to reclaim the sweet dreams she had lost over the last four and a half months. She wanted to find a slumber not haunted by nightmares and loss. She wanted to forget the constant stares and whispers that had followed her as she had moved in a trance throughout the chateau. She wanted to forget the still accusing glances from her husband's sisters and the pained eyes of her husband's cousin that would not meet her own. Christine wanted to hold to the loving arms of Meg and the strong support of Val. She wanted to cling to the unfaltering friendship that Marie offered. She wanted to hide in the steadfast love that Philippe had always shown her.
"I want to be with your father," Christine said as she rolled over and sat up, rubbing at her side. She rose from her bed, slipping a shawl over her shoulders and glanced at the mantle clock – three a.m. Christine shook her head. "I am not going to get any sleep this way," she muttered to herself as she crossed her bedroom floor.
Christine opened the door and slipped quietly from her room, the man in the seat across the hall instantly springing upright. Christine shook her head at him and raised a finger to her lips. He nodded at her and opened the door to Raoul's room. Christine gave the man a smile as she walked through the door, knowing he would close it behind her and she stood silently just inside the door, the tears coming to her eyes as she looked at what had become of her husband. The nurse rose from her seat and crossed to Christine's side.
"I need to be with him," Christine whispered as she wiped at her tears.
The nurse nodded. "I thought you might. There is a rocking chair next to the bed and there are extra pillows to support your back."
"Thank you," Christine replied. "I would like that." She turned from the nurse and walked to the side of Raoul's bed and placed her hands on the shoulders of the man bent over, dozing in his chair. "Philippe," she said softly.
Philippe raised his head and blinked, looking up at the voice. "Christine," he said and swallowed. "Should you not be sleeping?"
"Not without my husband," she said with a slight smile and turned to take the pillow from the nurse, placing it on the rocker and settling down. "Thank you," Christine sighed and smiled at the nurse. "That is very nice."
The nurse nodded, gave a long look at her slumbering patient and returned to her seat.
Christine watched as Philippe yawned and ran a hand through his hair. "Why do you not get some sleep?" she suggested. "I will stay with Raoul." Christine reached out for her husband's hand. "I need to stay with him. I need to touch him. I need to know that this is real."
Philippe nodded tiredly. "I understand completely." He stretched and stood up, placing a kiss on Christine's head. "If you need anything …"
"The nurse is right here," Christine replied. "I will be fine." A slight frown creased her face. "Please, Philippe, I need some time alone with Raoul. Please!" she pleaded.
Philippe nodded and turned back to his brother, he touched Raoul's forehead, leaving his hand to linger for a moment. "I would entrust your care to few others," Christine heard him whisper before Philippe straightened.
Christine smiled at Philippe as he gave her shoulder one last caress before quietly leaving the room. As she heard the door close, Christine turned her attention to her husband. "Oh Raoul," she said sadly, a single finger caressing the back of his hand. In the dim light from the gas lamps above his bed, Christine finally took the time to survey her husband's condition. Her free hand went out to lightly trace the bandages that wound about his torso, knowing there were stitches across his chest, an inflammation of the knife wound in his shoulder. Christine could not see the cracked ribs that were slowly healing or the bruised, congested lungs but she could hear the damage in her husband's raspy breathing. Christine bit her bottom lip and gently raised the bedding and blanched at what greeted her eyes.
She was not prepared for the sight of the long scar that traveled from one side of her husband's body to the other. Nor was she prepared for the multiple bruises in various shades, all in the process of healing. A single finger reached out to trace the small scars that Christine could see and she frowned, feeling the tears gather again at the corners of her eyes, not wishing to know what injuries had caused the scarring. She gently placed the covers back over Raoul and turned her attention to the bandages that wound over his thigh from hip to knee, knowing the wound beneath those bandages was also inflamed. Christine shook her head at how thin her husband's leg was, at how thin her husband had become. She could no longer look at the bruises and tiny scars that marred the skin she had once loved to caress. And Christine had no desire to even think upon the bandaged fingers that rested under her hand; she turned her eyes back to Raoul's face.
Christine reached out to trace her husband's brow, allowing her fingers to follow the drawn features of his face. The tears slipped down her cheeks and the guilt welled in her heart as she thought of all the horrors Raoul must have endured while she had sat safe in her home by the sea. Christine let her fingers trace upwards to Raoul's scalp and they paused there before she drew them back, not wishing to damage the head injuries Philippe had told her the doctors had discovered. Instead, Christine took her fingers and ran them lightly down the straight plane of Raoul's nose before using them to trace the outline of his lips. Christine let her fingers rest there as she smiled, reacting to the slow movement of her child.
"Yes," she whispered. "This is your father. And we are going to help him get well so that when you are born, he will be able to hold you in his arms." Christine was startled as Raoul's eyelids fluttered and the lips beneath her fingers moved.
"Angel," Raoul breathed, his eyes slowly opening.
Christine leaned forward, placing her hand against Raoul's cheek. "I am right here, my love."
But Raoul was not focused on Christine. "Please do not leave me again."
A frown crossed Christine's face. "Raoul?"
"I do need you!"
Christine closed eyes and bit back a pained cry.
"Please stay!" Raoul pleaded with an unseen presence, his head shaking once, his free hand reaching out. "No, she left. She took our baby and left." The exertion to speak took its toll on Raoul and he panted softly for a moment, looking at the ceiling. "It is fine. She is safe. He cannot hurt them."
"Raoul," Christine said as she opened her eyes, her hand caressing his cheek, "I am right here. I came back and I am not leaving. I love you!" Raoul's eyes traveled back to the end of his bed and Christine knew he was not focused on the nurse who was looking at him with concern.
"I am afraid," Raoul whispered.
"You need never be afraid again," Christine whispered to him.
"What if she is not there?" Raoul asked his unseen visitor. "What if it was only a dream?"
"I am here and I not a dream!" Christine insisted. "Please, Raoul! Just look at me!"
"Just look," Raoul breathed as his eyes closed. "Just look," he repeated as he turned his head. "My angel says to just look." Raoul slowly opened his eyes, blinking twice as a frown creased his features. "Christine?" he asked.
A broad smile lit Christine's face. "Raoul," she answered him and felt Raoul melt into the hand she rested on his cheek.
"Oh God, Christine," Raoul said softly, his chin trembling. "Christine."
Christine slowly pushed herself up from the rocking chair and leaned over the bed. She smiled down at her husband and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Raoul," she breathed and kissed him again, her lips turning up in delight as she felt Raoul respond. "I love you," she whispered against her husband's lips, their child stirring as Christine's heart soared with each returned kiss she felt against her own lips. "I have someone who wants to meet you," Christine said as she reluctantly drew back.
"No!" Raoul exclaimed as Christine raised his hand. "No more … no more …"
"Raoul," Christine said, her voice trembling. She waited for a moment as she found the spot where their baby was moving and placed Raoul's hand over his child. "Do you not wish to meet your child?" she asked softly and watched as Raoul's eyes left her face, tracing downwards to where she held his hand over her swollen mid-section.
"My child?" Raoul wondered.
Christine held her breath as she felt Raoul's fingers match each tiny movement beneath them.
"My child," Raoul wondered.
"Your child," Christine echoed, watching as Raoul's gaze returned to her face, her tears flowing freely as she saw the tiny sparkle in his blue eyes, the small, amazed smile on his lips. "Your child," she insisted. Christine gently moved Raoul's hand so that he could follow the baby's movements. "And she loves you." Christine laughed through her tears. "I can tell."
"She?"
"I have always thought that this baby shall be the daughter for whom you dreamed," Christine told him. "She is going to have blonde curls and blue eyes and …" Christine swallowed down the deep sobs that were threatening – Raoul did not need to hear them – and let out a long breath. "That is the dream to which I have clung all these months. It is what has kept you close in my memory and alive in my heart." She could not help the one sob that escaped. "And now it is no longer a dream! You are alive and it is a miracle!" Christine watched as the moment overwhelmed Raoul and he turned to look back at the ceiling, the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I will see my child," he whispered.
Christine continued to move Raoul's hand over their child. "You will see her and hold her and love her and she will adore you. I know." Christine's voice lowered. "I adore you."
"Christine," came the choked plea as Raoul turned slightly to his side, his other hand reaching for her.
"Raoul," Christine whispered back as she gently took his offered hand and leaned over to kiss him again, turning her cheek to rest against his own, tears mingling as a family was reunited.
"I love you," Raoul breathed. "I love you," he repeated.
"I love you," Christine replied gently, her words meant for Raoul's ears alone.
"Stay with me," Raoul begged. "Please do not leave me alone."
Christine straightened and turned back toward the rocking chair.
"No!" Raoul cried and Christine turned back to him. "Please stay with me."
It finally dawned upon Christine what her husband was asking of her and she nodded. "I am afraid I am a bit clumsy," she said as she gave Raoul back his hands and turned to the nurse. "It will be all right?" she worried softly.
"I am only here to watch over Monsieur's health," the nurse replied. "I see nothing else that happens," she finished with a smile and returned to her seat.
Christine nodded at the nurse and moved around the edge of the bed, knowing that Raoul's eyes never left her, his hands still reaching for her. "I promise to be careful," Christine said as she reached the other side of the bed. She sat down near the top of the mattress and arranged two pillows against the headboard, next to Raoul, before swinging her legs upward. Christine pushed herself back against the pillows so that she was reclining next to Raoul and she turned to smile down at the anxious, worried face looking back at her. "Your favorite pillow is still here," she whispered, a smile lighting her face. "Although, you may find it a bit softer."
Christine watched as Raoul drew a deep, steadying breath and gathered his strength before closing the small space between them. She sighed happily as he placed his head on her chest, one hand going to rest atop her protruding belly. Christine placed an arm about her husband's shoulder and with her other hand, guided his until it rested over their child. "Sleep," Christine said as she placed a kiss on Raoul's head, feeling him sigh.
"My family," Raoul breathed as his eyes closed.
And that was how Philippe found them in the morning when he opened the door to the bedroom to look in on his brother. His eyes turned toward the bed and softened as he saw Christine and Raoul sleeping, wrapped in each other's arms, both of them with hands protectively over their child. Philippe raised his eyes toward the crisp, blue sky shining just beyond the windows. "Thank you, God," he breathed, as he gently closed the door and went downstairs to breakfast, a smile on his lips, a song in his heart, his step lighter than it had been in months.
The bright blue of an autumn sky could also be seen from the windows of Madame Giry's dining room. It filtered in through fine lace curtains, looking over the breakfast laid upon the small round table. It saw the man and woman seated at the table, empty plates before them. It watched as the woman raised a fine silver coffee pot and poured steaming, aromatic liquid into the man's cup. It watched as he smiled at her, taking a sip of the coffee before leaning back in his chair, a contented sigh passing his lips.
"That was a lovely meal," Erik said. "Thank you for asking me to breakfast."
Antoinette took a sip of her own coffee as she frowned playfully at her breakfast companion. "Food seems to be the only way I can get your attention," she told him. "You have been stuck up in that garett for the last weeks." Her eyes traveled appraisingly over Erik. "It would appear you have neglected all else for whatever it is you have been doing."
Erik chose to ignore her. "Have you had any further word from your daughter?"
Antoinette did not need to ask what word Erik was seeking. "No," she replied with a shake of her head. "There has been no word since the telegram that said they had arrived safely in Lyon." Antoinette thought for a moment. "That was three days ago; I would think I should have a telegram either today or tomorrow." She leaned back in her own chair. "I still cannot believe it! Raoul has been alive all these months! What kind of men would be capable of such … such … an action?"
Erik winced. "I know perfectly well what kind of men," he said softly, picking up the napkin from his lap and running it through his fingers.
"I did not include you in that question," Antoinette said, feeling the need to remind Erik of the changes he had fought so hard to bring forth in himself, the changes with which he still struggled.
"I know," Erik sighed and placed his napkin on the table. He rose to his feet, walking to the window, moving the lace aside so he could look upon the outside world. "Yet I cannot help but think upon what might have been." He shook his head. "If Christine had not kissed me that night, if I had not seen what real love meant, I could have easily been one such as those men who took Raoul. I could have – no – I would have willingly sunk lower and lower into the depths of my own corrupt soul, finding myself capable of …" Erik paused and drew a deep breath, letting the lace fall back, shutting out the world beyond. "I do not even wish to think of the types of cruelty of which I might have been capable."
"Self introspection is a useful excersize," Antoinette told him. "It allows us to see our faults and to correct them." She frowned. "But that does not mean we wallow in them. Nor do we hold onto the past or what might have been."
"You are correct, of course," Erik said, a slight smile playing across his lips, "as usual." He stood silently for a moment. "Yet I cannot help but think upon Raoul … and Christine," he admitted rather reluctantly.
"I do as well," Antoinette said. "I wonder what the future holds for them now. Surely Raoul will not be the same man he once was." She shuddered as she thought about the words that Arthur had spoken, the condition of the Vicomte when he had been found. "He will have a very long road to recovery before him."
Erik, too, knew of his former rival's condition having heard the news from Antoinette. "If he even recovers," he breathed.
"Erik!" Antoinette admonished him.
"I did not mean that the way it sounded!" Erik insisted. "From what you heard of his injuries, the lack of care – surely it would be difficult to recover from such things. Men die from less!"
"I am perfectly aware of that!" Antoinette replied, burying the thoughts of the husband she had buried and the silly little fall that had taken him from her. "Yet I refuse to believe that God would send Raoul back to his family – to Christine and their child – only to take him away again."
Erik walked back to the table and resumed his seat, a hand reaching for his coffee and drawing back. "I only pray you are correct." He shook his head. "I would hate to think what it would do to Christine to learn that Raoul was alive all these months only to have him truly die."
A look of amazement crossed Antoinette's face. "Well, I never!" she exclaimed.
Now Erik was puzzled. "You never … what?" he wondered.
Antoinette laughed for a moment before raising her hand to cover her lips, struggling to get her mirth under control. Finally, she lowered her hand, the laughter gone from her lips but still evident in her eyes. "I never thought I would live to see the day when you would actually think of someone beside yourself!"
"I have been enchanted," Erik said, his eyes turning downward, studying the folded hands in his lap. "And I find I cannot find my way out of the enchantment." His voice lowered, growing soft. "Nor do I wish to find my out." He drew a deep breath and raised his head. "Have you heard from her?" Erik asked.
Antoinette did not need to Erik to define his pronoun; she knew perfectly well which "her" to whom he was referring. "I have," Antoinette said, "and she is having a very lovely time with her family." It was not entirely a lie.
"How nice for her," Erik muttered. "But when is she returning! Surely you must miss her companionship." He waved toward the windows. "And surely there must be much work for her parents on the Baron's farm! It is harvest time and Tallis must be in the way or she is helping them and only making matters worse or …" Erik shook his head. "Surely she will wish to be back in Paris before the first snowfall comes to cover the countryside and she cannot get away from that damnable country …"
"Erik!"
"I have something for her," Erik said like a disappointed child whose gift of dandelions had been refused. "You wondered what I have been doing behind the locked door of my garett so I shall tell you – I have finished the song I promised Tallis." A light began to glow in his eyes as he spoke of Tallis and the music. "It is everything she is – everything we are together! It is sad and sweet. It is slow and builds to a frenzy only to slow again. There are so many grace notes dancing through the composition – much as she dances through my life. Yet the underlying melody that ties it all together, the music that I hear when I think upon her, is simple and uncomplicated. It is open and honest. It is simply Tallis, each note echoing a beat of the beauty of her heart."
Antoinette had watched Erik's face as he spoke of his music, the animation, the life, his words brought forth. She had seen the small light begin to glow in his eyes, spreading to encompass his entire face. She had heard the joy in his voice as he had described his composition; the joy yielding to the emotion that motivated Erik's expression, his voice, his passion. Antoinette had finally heard the one thing in Erik's voice that he had longed to hear from Christine, the one thing that Tallis had longed to hear from him. Antoinette heard the love in his voice and she reached a single finger up to massage her brow. "Oh dear," she whispered.
Erik paused as he heard Antoinette's pained whisper, the light beginning to fade from his face. "What is wrong?" he asked, waiting for an answer that was not immediately given. Erik's face grew a bit darker. "What do you know that you are not telling me?" he asked, his tone slightly demanding.
"What do you remember of your conversations with Tallis?" Antoinette asked.
"Every single word," came the clipped reply. "What do you know?"
Antoinette ignored the darkness that was beginning to overtake Erik; she had seen it far too often to let it rattle her composure. "Do you remember a conversation with her wherein Tallis warned you that if she ever saw that you did not wish to be free of Christine she would leave and never come back?"
"Not particularly," Erik said from between clenched teeth. "What has she done?" Erik asked, waiting, watching and he exploded. "Will you tell me what that damn woman has done!"
Antoinette crossed her arms over chest, raising an eyebrow at the man seated across the table from her, watching as he drew several deep breaths, struggling to get his anger under control.
"Will you please tell me what Tallis has done and where she may be?" Erik asked in a tightly controlled, even tone of voice.
"That is better," Antoinette muttered to herself before continuing. "Tallis and I spoke of you often. She was searching for reassurance and I was offering her insight into your character."
Erik, too, crossed his arms over his chest. "That is lovely," he grumped.
"Do you wish to have answers or do you wish to simply interrupt?" Antoinette wondered.
"Answers," Erik replied. "I shall remain silent."
Antoinette had doubt about the veracity of his words but she continued onward. "Tallis said that shortly before you returned to Christine that last time, she saw something in your eyes when you spoke of Christine. She said she saw hope in them."
"But …" Erik tried.
"Ah, ah," Antoinette warned and waited until Erik had composed himself. "Tallis knew that you were planning on returning to Christine time and time again and she no longer wished to subject herself to your nonsense. She no longer wished to fight what she perceived as a losing battle."
The silence in the room was broken by Erik's outburst. "She … what?"
"She loved you, Erik," Antoinette told him. "And you could not see it. You could not see beyond that obsession you have with Christine …"
"That is over and done with!" Erik interrupted as he rose to his feet and began to stalk back and forth angrily across the small dining room. "She knew I needed Christine's forgiveness! She was the one who told me to find it! Christine and I have forgiven each other and we are no longer part of each other's lives!" He shook his head and ran a hand through what remained of his hair. "She could not wait just a moment longer! She just had to run like every other damn woman in my life! She …"
Antoinette, too, rose to her feet, placing her hands on the table. "Do not be such a child!" she ordered. "Tallis loved you enough to let you go. She loved you enough to give you the freedom to be with the woman she saw in your eyes." Antoinette let out a long breath. "She is far too good for you and – while I miss her dearly – I am glad she is gone!" Antoinette watched as Erik froze in mid-step, turning an amazed countenance to her. "Yes, I am glad she is gone! You do not deserve her!"
"But I love her," Erik said and crumpled onto the nearest chair, his head going to his hands. "I love her."
Antoinette stood silently, watching as the head in Erik's hands shook back and forth, listening to his pained words.
"What have I done? No. No. No. I have done it again. I have pushed away the grace in my life. I have destroyed the beauty in my world. I have killed the fragility of love. I have …"
"You have been behaving like a spoilt child, is what you have been doing," Antoinette snorted, watching as Erik lifted his head to look at her. "Are you quite finished now? Are you ready to grow up? Are you ready to be a man who loves a woman and is willing to let her go, if that is what she wishes?"
"What are you saying?" Erik wondered.
"I know where Tallis can be found," Antoinette said, holding up a hand as Erik jumped to his feet. "I should warn you that she has found a new position that makes her very happy. She is working for good people and may not wish you to be a part of her new life. Knowing that, if I tell you where she is and you go to her, will you accede to her wishes?"
"Yes," Erik breathed.
"No matter what they may be?" Antoinette wondered.
"I swear," Erik replied in a somber tone. "I will do whatever Tallis wishes."
Antoinette nodded - a curt gesture. "I will tell you where she is," she began. "And then I am finished," she warned. "I am getting far too old for all this intrigue. I just wish to have a quiet life and enjoy my grandchild when it is born. Is that clearly understood?"
Erik nodded his head. "Yes," he said. "I promise I shall not draw you into any further intrigue and I shall do whatever it is that Tallis wishes."
Antoinette wondered when the truth would ever slip through Erik's lips.