Chapter Summary: Erik covertly seeks information about Tallis in a crowded inn. Life continues to bloom again at Chagny. The police arrive to speak with Raoul and Christine, the medallion they bring with them causing a reaction Christine does not expect. Henri and Didier find that they each hold the same piece of the puzzle, even though Didier keeps his shaded. And Erik goes to Tallis.

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

Erik paced nervously back and forth across the small room he had taken in an inn not far from the outskirts of Kingsand. It was a small country inn with but a few rooms to let. Most of the inn's income was generated from the bar that took up nearly the entire expanse of the ground floor. The rooms above the boisterous ground floor were meant for the occasional traveler who could not quite find the strength to make it those last few miles into Kingsand where more comfortable accommodations could be found. Yet Erik did not care about comfortable accommodations. He did not hear the chatter of patrons and the clanking of mugs that rose up from below. He took little note of the slightly worn yet still sturdy furniture about him. All Erik could see was the woman he loved in the arms of another man. He ground his teeth together as he remembered the smiles and the laughter that Tallis had shared with Serge - the smiles and the laughter that should have been his.

Erik had followed her to England, the familiar train trip ending in Boulogne before he boarded the ferry to Portsmouth. While waiting for the ferry Erik's gaze had strayed toward the cliffs and the sandy beaches to the south and he offered up a simple thought that Christine was once again happy with her Vicomte. Then he had boarded the ferry, standing in the shadows, watching as the Channel waters parted before the bow of the boat. He had eventually closed his eyes, unable to stand the rolling, unsteady motion of the waves that matched the unsteady, rolling emotions that lapped over his being. Erik had taken a moment to do what everyone about him had always done – pray to some unseen omnipresent being. He was not entirely sure he would be heard but he did have to try. Erik struggled for the right words. He struggled to say what was in his heart. He struggled to be just like everyone about him.

"Just let her still love me," he had finally thought in silence. "Just let her still love me."

No one in the simple inn heard the sound of Erik's fist hitting the wall as his anger and frustration overwhelmed his better intentions. No one would have cared.

"No one cares," Erik sighed to himself as he cradled aching knuckles, a strange look coming over his face. "And," he thought out loud, "perhaps that is just what I require." Erik paused briefly to check the bills and coins in his pocket before sweeping out of his room and down the stairs to the barroom below.

He made his way politely through the crowd as he headed toward the long bar that was centered in the middle of the room. Erik carried himself with an ease he did not feel and was amazed at how people moved out of his way. His thoughts were turned inward, lost in gray eyes and silvery laughter, so Erik was unaware of the presence he still commanded by just walking through a room. So lost was Erik in his own thoughts and emotions that he did not even realize that no one gave a second look to his unmasked visage. He was finally being treated as just another human being in a crowded bar and he was completely unaware of it.

Erik found an open space at the long bar. "Whatever you recommend," he said as the older woman behind the bar turned her attention to him. The years had not been gentle to her and she wore her age like a shield against any that would dare to challenge her. Yet the woman blushed when confronted by the hypnotic depths of Erik's golden eyes and his softly accented voice. He accepted the flagon of ale with a nod, raising it to his lips and smiling at the woman as he lowered it. "Thank you," Erik said. "That is very nice."

The woman looked around at the bar, assessing the situation and wiped her hands on her apron.

Erik laid down several coins. "Whatever you would like," he said softly.

The woman returned his words with a smile and retrieved a small glass of clear liquid. "Thank you sir," she said as she took a sip. "My name is Glynnis. And you would be… ?" she encouraged.

"Erik," he replied and took another sip of the warm ale. "You have lived here all your life?"

"Aye," Glynnis replied. "I was born here and wed here and my bones shall be buried in the local cemetery alongside all those that have gone before me. It is the way of things here."

"Perfect," Erik thought and then out loud, "I am seeking a quiet place to compose my music and I was wondering if you knew of any estates that might be for let."

Glynnis pursed her lips. "There was one but it recently was let by a German lad." She shook her head. "I cannot think of another."

"If it was just recently," Erik began, "then perhaps he is not yet enamoured of the home and would be willing to consider different options."

"I do not think he will," Glynnis replied with a shake of her head. "He has hired the cousin of some local folks to be his housekeeper." She took another sip from her glass, letting out a sharp breath as the strong alcohol burned down her throat. "I do not think he is planning on leaving for some time."

The man next to Erik raised his head from studying the depths of his mug. "I heard that young German made an offer to buy Trevinny."

Erik allowed a puzzled look to cross his face, hiding his growing displeasure at what he was hearing. "He means to buy this place?"

"That is what is being said," the man replied and downed what remained of his ale. "If you are looking for a quiet house, you may want to start looking in other places." He placed some coins in the bar. "I need to be getting home before the wife raises a ruckus." He turned and left, leaving Erik and Glynnis alone once again.

"I do believe he is correct," Erik sighed. "I shall need to begin looking for a different place."

"You said you write music?" Glynnis wondered and Erik nodded. "What kind of music?"

"I write whatever it is that the people who pay me desire," Erik smiled back. "It pays well enough." He sighed. "But now I shall need to be moving on, looking for a new home, someone to take care of it for me." Erik paused in thought. "You do not know if this housekeeper for this German lad has any other relatives that might be interested in a position?" he asked hopefully.

"Might be," Glynnis nodded, "might be. That is a good-sized brood that Daniel and Maeve have. I am sure there are a couple of girls who would be glad of a position like their cousin Tallis got herself."

"Tallis?" Erik asked, hoping his voice sounded even and dispassionate. "Is that the name of the housekeeper at … at …"

"Trevinny," Glynnis finished for him. "Yes, that is her. Tallis Ordogne, that is her name. I knew her when she was a little thing and came to visit her cousins. She reminded me of a young foal - all long legs, piss and vinegar." Glynnis realized what she had said and turned bright red. "Begging your pardon, sir."

"How appropriately descriptive," Erik muttered into the mug he held to his lips before placing it down. "No need to apologize," he assured Glynnis. "I have heard worse terms used to describe members of your sex. I find what you said very complimentary for I believe it describes a no-nonsense woman."

Glynnis interrupted Erik. "That is exactly what I meant to say; she is no-nonsense. The whole family is like that."

"Than I must assuredly seek out this Tallis Ordogne and crave from her an introduction to the other members of her family." Erik once again turned his charm on to Glynnis. "Would it be possible for you to give me directions to Trevinny?" he asked with a seductive smile. "I should like to make this lady's acquaintance as soon as possible." Erik raised an eyebrow and leaned over the bar toward Glynnis, pulling her into his seduction. "Perhaps, even on the morrow."

The next morning dawned bright and sunny in both England and France. As with each new day, God's grace was renewed, chasing away the sins of the past, giving each and every person the chance to begin again. But men and women are not God and there are times when the sins of the past are not so easily forgiven and forgotten. And the colder undercurrents of the blowing winds bespoke of winter and the chill that hovered just beyond the horizon. It was a chill that would creep through crevices into the foundations of buildings and through the cracks into the foundations of lives.

Yet as Philippe found himself enjoying late morning coffee with friends and family, he was barely aware of the chill that hovered just outside the warm comfort in which he found himself. He took a moment to acknowledge that Henri was not one of the people gathered in the bright dining room. Nor was Didier. Philippe knew they were together and he hoped that whatever it was that was bothering the young men was something they could confide to each other, finding comfort in their friendship. Philippe raised his eyes to the ceiling, thinking about the two other missing people and knowing that they were well as they sat together, hands clasped, voices low.

"Pardon?" Philippe said as he lowered his eyes, thinking that someone had been trying to catch his attention.

"We were all wondering if you wanted to have everyone at Chagny for the holidays," Desiree said as she looked at her eldest brother. "Honestly, Philippe, you are so distracted!"

"Do go easy on him," Xavier interjected. "It has been a wondrous three weeks." He smiled at his friend. "I think Philippe is allowed to be distracted."

"Thank you," Philippe smiled back and turned his attention to his sister who was blushing. "You are still so passionate," he said so that only Desiree could hear his words. "I do not think you will ever change." He smiled at her. "Please do not."

"I promise," Desiree whispered back.

"But that still does not answer what you wish to do about the holidays," Charlotte interjected. "I know that Raoul has been feeling much better over these last days but he still has a very long way to go. Do you really think a house full of chattering people is something he needs?"

"I think it is," Philippe told her as he looked at Val and Meg. "He has been very happy to see you both. How long can you stay?

Val looked at Meg before answering. "We can stay until the start of December but no later. My mother is coming to Paris for the holidays and she shall expect us there." He reached out and gently squeezed his wife's hand. "And we have yet to tell her she is to be a grandmother." Val returned his attention to Philippe. "Is that overstaying our welcome?"

"No," Philippe told him with a smile. "I am ready to welcome an army of friends and family." He turned to look at Arthur who was standing by the windows. "I do not know how my staff feels about that."

Arthur turned around, a grin on his face. "I think your staff can manage quite well, thank you."

"I do not doubt it."

Monique put down her coffee cup and folded her hands peacefully in her lap. "Are you expecting us to be here, as well?"

Philippe was rather shocked and his tone of voice expressed it. "How can you even ask?"

"My wife is wishing to spend the winter in Paris," Xavier said. "She is very enamoured with the idea of a glittering social season." He grinned at Philippe. "This is your fault, you realize."

Charlotte looked a bit puzzled. "Why is this Philippe's fault?"

Philippe rubbed a single finger across his forehead. "Because before …" he drew a deep breath to steady the rush of emotions that always seemed to want to sweep him away. "Before Raoul was found, I had determined to spend the season in Paris searching for a wife."

The stunned silence in the room was broken by Desiree's outburst. "What?"

"Surely you cannot be serious!" Charlotte added.

Philippe could not meet the amazed and stunned looks coming from his sisters. He heard as Xavier began to laugh, followed by the sound of Arthur's laughter and he could not help the merriment that bubbled up from his own throat. As the three men broke down into laughter, Val and Meg exchanged wondering looks and Monique frowned as Desiree and Charlotte turned toward her.

"Do not look to me," Monique said. "I cannot fathom the workings of the male mind."

Charlotte turned back to Philippe. "Do try to be serious," she started.

"But you are serious enough for all of us," Philippe managed as he fought to get his laughter under control.

Charlotte frowned at him and began to rise to her feet. "Philippe," she warned.

Philippe drew several deep breaths and could not look at Xavier and Arthur for fear he would once again succumb to the very same laughter with which his friends still struggled. "Do not take offense, Charlotte, please" he pleaded. "I know I am behaving like a child but I cannot help it. I am so … so… " Philippe thought for a moment, trying to put what he was feeling into words and failing. "I cannot say how I am because I do not know. I have been at a loss to describe how I was feeling over these last months and – once again – I am at a loss." He smiled at his sisters. "I only know that I am so happy that there are times it cannot be contained."

Charlotte sat back down. "I understand perfectly," she replied.

Philippe turned his attention to Monique. "Surely you cannot mean to go to Paris now? At least stay through January! That shall allow you to spend the holidays with us and still have enough time to enjoy the season in Paris."

Xavier turned to his wife. "A brilliant idea! What do you think?"

Monique was silent as all eyes looked upon her. Slowly a happy little smile curled the edges of her lips. "Agreed."

Xavier raised his cup to his wife. "Thank you," he mouthed.

A soft knock upon the closed dining room doors drew everyone's attention.

"Come," Philippe called out, watching as the valet who usually waited upon the front door entered the room.

"Pardon the intrusion, Monsieur le Comte," the man began, "but the inspectors are here and they wish to speak with the Vicomte."

Philippe rose to his feet, dropping his napkin on the table. "I should see to this," he said and smiled. "Please, do not stop the party on my account."

Philippe followed the man out of the room, trusting the valet to close the dining room doors. He walked down the main hallway to find Chief Inspector Pichette and Inspector Rousseau waiting patiently by the front doors. Philippe shook their extended hands. "I understand you wish to see my brother," he stated.

"We have received some information from one of the men who took your brother," Chief Inspector Pichette began. "And it appears they may have accosted the Vicomtess, as well."

"Christine?" A look of worry crossed Philippe's face to be quickly replaced by one of anger. "I will kill them, personally."

"That is something about which you need not worry," Inspector Rousseau told Philippe. "They will be punished for what they have done."

"Good," Philippe muttered and pulled himself together. "I will take you upstairs but I cannot guarantee that my brother shall be awake. And if he is awake, I should let you know that he tires very easily so you may not have long to question him."

"We will do nothing to unnecessarily distress him any further," Pichette promised.

Philippe held his hand out toward the grand staircase. "Then, gentlemen, shall we?"

Philippe led the way up the staircase, the two inspectors following behind. He moved easily down the upstairs hallway, stopping before a closed door and knocking. A female voice called out from behind the door. "One moment, please." And then the door was opening to reveal an obviously pregnant woman dressed in dark blue, her long curls pulled back and held in place by a matching ribbon. The smile on her face grew at the sight of Philippe.

"Christine," Philippe said as he reached in to kiss her cheek before drawing back. "The police are here; they wish to speak with Raoul. Is he awake?" Philippe watched as Christine finally turned her attention to the two men standing behind him, a stern look crossing her face as she left the room, closing the door behind her. Philippe turned to the two inspectors. "Gentlemen, my sister, the Vicomtess de Chagny," he said and turned back to Christine. "Christine, I believe you know Chief Inspector Robert Pichette and Inspector Guy Rousseau."

Christine nodded at the two inspectors as they bowed in her direction. "I do remember you, hello," she said and nodded. "You wish to speak with my husband?"

"If he is awake," Pichette said. "We will only take a few moments of his time and we promise not to distress him unnecessarily."

"He is awake." Christine studied their faces. "I will allow you in to speak with him but you must understand that the moment I find my husband is becoming distressed or overwhelmed, you will leave without question. Is that quite clear?"

Pichette looked at Rousseau. "Perfectly, Madame," Rousseau said. "We shall follow your lead."

"Gentlemen, I leave you in capable hands," Philippe said and turned to Christine. "I shall leave you and you may tell me later."

Christine nodded and accepted the kiss that Philippe placed on her cheek. She waited until he had moved off down the hall before turning around to open the bedroom door, motioning the two inspectors in. "Raoul," she said softly as she approached the bed, smiling broadly as Raoul turned to look at her. "There are two police inspectors here who would like to speak with you."

Raoul was seated upright in bed for the first time since he had come home. Several pillows supported his back helping him to remain upright. The blankets were still pulled down around the bandages over his injured leg. Yet his color had gone from a sickly gray to a very pale pink. Even a small spark of life could be seen in his blue eyes. Those eyes closed momentarily as Raoul drew a deep breath. "Only a few minutes," he said, his voice improving but still raspy. Raoul opened his eyes again. "I do not know how much …"

Christine was at his side, sitting on the bed, taking his hands in her own. "They have promised to leave when I ask." She smiled softly as Raoul took back one of his hands to rest it over their child. "I will not let them upset you." Raoul nodded and Christine turned to the inspectors waiting by the closed door, motioning them over. "Gentlemen," she told them, watching as they approached. Christine was immediately impressed by the stoic demeanor they maintained when they finally had a chance to see the man upon whose life they had spent the last five months. She was grateful that they betrayed no emotion at the sight that had nearly brought her to her knees.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," Pichette began, "I am Chief Inspector Robert Pichette of the Lyon police force." He nodded to Rousseau. "This is my lead inspector, Guy Rousseau."

Raoul nodded.

"We want you to know that the men who did this to you are now under heavy guard and they will pay for what they have done," Pichette said and held out his hand, Rousseau slipping something into it. "When the cart in which you were…"

"Oh God," Raoul breathed, some of the color draining from his face.

Christine glared up at Pichette.

"When we examined the cart," Pichette began again, "an item was found stuck in a corner. We believe it belongs to you."

Christine held out her hand and Pichette slipped the medallion into it. "Oh dear God," Christine said, raising her eyes to look at the inspectors. "They had this?"

"That was how they told me about the baby," Raoul said to Christine before turning his head slightly so that he could look at the inspectors. "They... they used it to torment me. They said I would never see my child. They said that…" Raoul's chin trembled and he lowered his eyes. "They said a great many hurtful things."

"I was going to use it to tell you about the baby," Christine told Raoul, a cry in her voice.

"When was the last time you saw this, Madame?" Pichette asked gently.

Christine studied the silver object she held in her hand. "It was the morning that I left to return to Paris. I placed it on the door to…" Christine heard the intake of breath from her husband. "I left it with my husband," she finished.

"Did anything else happen that morning?" Rousseau wanted to know.

Christine nodded. "Raoul," she said softly and waited until Raoul had opened his eyes. "I was going to tell you this when you were stronger. I am not keeping things from you but I do not want you to be distressed. I want you to continue to get well. I want our baby to truly know what it is like to be held by her father. I do not want it to be a story I tell her."

"I know, Christine, I know." Raoul shook his head. "He said that… He knew you smelled like lilies. He said you were in his arms."

Deep pain crossed Christine's face. "How could you even think something like that? Why would you believe them? I love you!" Christine composed herself and raised her eyes to look at the inspectors. "I was leaving the cemetery when I heard someone speak my name. I turned to find a man with a mask over his face. I was going to scream when someone grabbed me from behind. I never saw his face but I did see the gun he placed against my cheek. They told me they had a message from my husband. I did not believe them" She turned back to look at Raoul who would not meet her eyes. "But they mentioned Perros and I knew that the message came from you. They said he told them to tell me that he loved me. That he would always love me." Christine turned back to the inspectors. "I am afraid I yelled and screamed at them. Then the one who was behind me placed the gun in the small of my back and I was ordered to leave. I could not take any chances with my child's life and I left. I was back in Paris two days later."

"I am truly sorry that a gift meant to express joy was twisted to cause pain," Pichette said softly. "And you both have verified what we were told by the men who did this." He looked at Rousseau and nodded. "I believe we shall take our leave for the moment. We may need to return for further questions."

"Thank you," Raoul breathed.

"Do you need this back?" Christine wondered as she looked at the medallion she held.

"We may need it at the trial," Rousseau told her.

"I do not want it," Raoul whispered angrily.

Christine stared at him, her fingers wrapping tightly about the medallion. "I shall get it blessed and should you need it, please let us know."

"We shall see ourselves out," Pichette said and nodded toward the door.

The two inspectors left, leaving a couple on the bed, the chill of winter creeping in through the cracked foundation of a marriage.

"You do not want this?" Christine asked softly once the door was closed behind the inspectors.

"I never want to see it again!" Raoul insisted.

"But Raoul …"

"I said I never want to see it again!" Raoul nearly shouted, the effort causing him to cough.

Christine reached out for him and was shocked and hurt when Raoul waved her off.

"I am tired," Raoul finally managed to say. "I am going to sleep for awhile."

"I will stay with you," Christine tried.

"Alone, Christine," Raoul said and turned his head from her. "Just… leave me alone."

"But…" Christine tried.

"Please!"

Christine got to her feet. "As you wish," she said, trying desperately not to cry. "I will go and spend some time with Meg and Val."

There was no answer and Christine stood silently for a moment, watching Raoul's still form before leaving the room. She gave one last look at her husband before closing the door and walking across the hall into her own room. Christine made her way to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for a pillow. She placed it over her face and sobbed into it, knowing that no one could hear her.

No one could hear Henri and Didier, either, as they sat in the back of the conservatory, hidden behind a large potted palm, their voices low and hushed.

"Is that what you told them?" Didier asked in amazement.

Henri nodded. "What choice did I have?" he wondered. "I cannot allow anything further to happen to Raoul." He laughed bitterly as he ran a hand through his hair. "Blame it on my selfishness at not wanting the responsibility. Blame it on my insanity. Blame it …"

"Do not say that word!" Didier hissed angrily as he grabbed at Henri's hand, shaking it violently. "You have no idea of true insanity! You have no idea of what it is capable of doing! You have no idea!"

Henri was still in the face of his friend's outburst. "You do know," he finally said, the knowledge dawning on his face. "God, you do know!" The knowledge was quickly replaced by a pained resignation. "I was right," Henri whispered. "I was right, was I not?"

Didier shook his head. "Please, do not ask me that question! So many lives hang on what I may answer."

"My cousin's life hangs on your answer!" Henri replied. "So do the lives of his wife and child! An innocent child, Didier! A child who has not yet been born!"

"Do you think I do not know that?" Didier sighed. "You are not the only one who has been trying to face their fears. I have been trying to face mine in my own way." He thought of the attic room and the locked box full of drugged powder. "I have been trying to understand, to find a way out of this mess without any further hurt befalling any of the people that we love." He shook his head. "I have been witnessing this insanity ever since I was a child, I just never thought… I did not know it would… I…"

Henri laid a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "You did a good job of hiding it from everyone."

"Who would have believed me?" Didier wondered.

"I would have," Henri said. "I do." Now it was his turn to shake his head. "What do we do now, though?"

A grim look passed over Didier's handsome young face. "We watch. You watch here and I shall watch in my home. Hopefully it will be enough." He lowered his head. "It has to be enough."

"Enough, enough, enough," Erik muttered to himself as he paced the gravel drive outside the entry to Trevinny. "She has to talk to me. She must talk to me." He turned and began to stride up the drive. "She will talk to me!" he insisted to himself. He stopped before the ornately carved front door, the fingers of his raised hand clenching and unclenching. "Please let her talk to me," he whispered as he reached for the doorknocker, only to find the door suddenly pulled away from him.

"Well," Tallis said as she stood in the open door way, her arms crossed over her chest, "are you going to pace the driveway all day or are you planning on coming in?"