Chapter Summary: Even in the midst of horses and card games, Raoul is the main subject of discussion for those at Chagny. Xavier does not talk about Raoul but with him, giving him some insight into what happened while he was gone. Erik returns to the old and familiar. And Christine wakes Marie early in the morning with a request and a concern.

Author's Notes: Andalusians and Lusitanos were both developed from the same original bloodline. The bloodline was split in the 16th century. The Andalusians were then bred in Spain and the Lusitanos in Portugal. Both breeds are still considered "The Horse of Kings". Oberstallmesiter is the German term for the person who heads the stable. And Vingt-et-un is the French version of Blackjack and was extremely popular during the 19th century. I am having so much with the research for this story … whee! And finally thank you to LiveJournal user "snafflebitnik" for the Evil Plot Bunny she created that appears at the end of this chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Val shook his head as he walked back from the stables with Philippe. "Those are magnificent animals," he said. "I have never seen such perfect confirmation!" He sighed and turned to look at Philippe, longing in his eyes. "What I would not give to introduce such a bloodline into my own stock."

Philippe looked at the man beside him and thought of another young man with a love of horses. Val was not as young as Raoul but the same enthusiasm, the same spark of desire was in his eyes as he spoke of the Andalusians and Lusitanos housed so lovingly in the huge stable complex. "As I said, Raoul and I have both worked very hard to create those bloodlines." Philippe smiled. "That is one of the reasons I enjoy spending so much time here – it is an easy trip to Spain or Portugal to attend sales." He managed a small laugh. "I swear some of those buyers see me coming and they either run the other way or begin to rub their hands together. It is very hard to find a bargain once you are known."

"They would find me an easy mark, I am afraid," Val had to admit. "I never quite understood all the ins and outs of those sales. I would often find myself bored with the negotiations my father and his Oberststallmeister and I would steal away to watch the horses." A sheepish look crossed Val's face. "It was poor behavior for the future Baron."

Philippe just shook his head. "Raoul did the same thing," he admitted, his eyes growing distant with the memory. "More often that not, my Vicomte would disappear from my side and the lessons I was trying to teach him. I knew I would find him down with the horses, petting velvet noses and offering treats. It is the way of the young."

"It is a wonder we learn anything as children."

"I believe that you and your wife and my brother and his wife will soon find the task of teaching the young directly before you."

Val nodded. "It is still some way off for Meg and I. Perhaps we can use that time to watch as Raoul and Christine begin to raise their child."

Philippe's response to Val's words was a worried grimace.

"Are matters still strained between them?" Val asked.

"Matters are still strained between my brother and everyone in this household," Philippe reluctantly admitted. "I had hoped having friends and family about would help Raoul to feel safe again but…" He shrugged. "I begin to find myself at a loss as to help my brother." There was an awkward silence broken when Philippe clapped Val warmly on the shoulder. "But I believe I can help you," he said. "Several of my mares will be foaling in the early spring."

"Our baby is due in May," Val reminded him.

"I know," Philippe told him. "But what would you say we negotiate on one foal from an Andalusian and one from a Lusitano. I will give you the choice of male or female from the breed and should there not be the sex from the breed you desire, I will lower the price of the foal.

Val's eyes lit up. "That is a deal almost too good to be true."

"I am quite the fool when it comes to a man who appreciates excellent horse flesh," Philippe replied.

Val was sorely tempted to roll his eyes. "I hardly think you are a fool when it comes to anything."

"I do believe these negotiations are not going to be as easy as either of us believe!" Philippe laughed.

Laughter was a hard commodity to come by in the bright yellow parlor where Val's wife sat talking with Christine, a silver tray with a fine china tea service on the table before them. Meg was watching her friend's face, trying very hard to find words of comfort that would do more than merely salve a wound she could not heal.

"Oh, Meg," Christine was saying. "He hates me. I know he hates me."

Meg put down the teacup and saucer she was balancing in her hands and reached out to Christine. "Surely you do not mean such a thing."

"I wish I did not." Christine raised her head to look at Meg and instead of tears in her eyes, there was a hint of pained submission, "but these last days have been so hard." Christine closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. "One moment Raoul is saying he loves me and in the very next breath he is accusing me of things that I would not do in even my worst nightmares."

"I have not seen or heard him do anything when we are all together." Meg looked a bit puzzled.

Christine sighed. "I think Raoul saves all of his cruel words until we are alone and that is when my husband turns into a monster." Christine pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the fireplace. She placed a hand against the mantle and stared down into the small fire. "He will never forgive me for the argument we had that led to all of this. He thinks I was the one who asked Erik to come to me. He thinks I left because I wanted to marry someone else." Christine winced and reached for the pain that flared in her side. "There are even times when I think Raoul believes I do not want this child."

"That cannot possibly be true!" Meg exclaimed. "Have you not told him how ill you were? Have you not told him how hard you have fought to see this baby is born healthy?"

"Why would I do such a thing?" Christine laughed bitterly as she turned around. "If I told him of almost losing his child, of all the problems I have had, it would just be one more reason for Raoul to think the worst of me."

"Oh Christine," Meg sighed as she held out her hands, waiting until Christine walked back to the sofa, took her hands and sat down. "After everything that has happened, after all you have done for him…"

"After all that I have done to him, you mean," Christine interrupted.

Meg's lips pursed into a thin line and her brow furrowed in anger. "You did not do anything to him!" she insisted. "Those horrible men were the ones who hurt him; you have been doing nothing but helping! You were the one who fought with his doctors. You are the one who has been making sure he has all his favorite foods and has enough time to rest."

"I am the one who betrayed his trust in me by lying to him about our baby in the first place." Christine frowned. "No wonder Raoul finds it so easy to think the worst of me."

Meg was silent for a moment as she thought. "Well, then," she began, "so there are times when Raoul thinks the worst of you. What are you planning on doing about it?"

"What can I do?" Christine wondered as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Well I never!" Meg took back her hands and crossed her arms about her waist.

"Excuse me?" Christine asked, her tone of voice a bit shocked and hurt.

"You were the one who fought to save Raoul from Erik," Meg began. "You were the one who stuck her little nose in the air and never backed down from all those Parisian society matrons. You were the one who showed me how to face them. Do you not remember all those nights in the opera house dormitories when we would stay up at night and plot our horrible vengeance against everyone who we were mad at?"

Christine actually managed a small laugh. "I do remember." She sighed. "Oh, to be young and foolish again!"

"And now what are you planning on doing about your marriage?" Meg wondered.

Christine raised her head and set her lips in a grim smile. "I am going to fight for it," she replied.

A self-satisfied smile crossed Meg's face as she leaned back into the corner of the sofa. "That is what I thought," she said smugly.

Down the hall, in the dining room, other people staying at the chateau sat around the small round dining table normally reserved for family dinners, two cards spread laid face down before each person. The young man holding the deck wore a smug smile on his face as he gazed at the faces of the people about him. Henri ruffled the cards he held. "The name of the game is Vingt-et-un," he said.

Desiree frowned at her young cousin. "You are lucky you lived to be twenty-one with that attitude," she said as she gazed at her cards and shook her head.

Henri pouted playfully in her direction. "But I thought you loved me."

"Love is so highly over-rated," Didier said as he looked and Henri and nodded. He frowned at the card Henri placed before him and leaned back in his chair. "I am out."

Henri smiled at Charlotte. "What would you say about love, dear Charlotte?"

"I do not know that I feel comfortable speaking of such things in such a mixed company," she replied and nodded. Charlotte looked at the card Henri gave her and nodded again. "Such things should be whispered about behind fans in salons." She blushed. "Or in the privacy of the boudoir."

Desiree burst into laughter. "You have been married for far too long! What ever happened to my flirtatious younger sister? Too much snow in Austria to cool your blood?"

"Too much sun in Italy to heat yours?" Charlotte shot back.

Henri winked at Didier, an action that spoke loudly between the two friends but was barely a whisper to anyone else. "Is it not terribly exciting to see two women disagree?"

Didier allowed a slight smile to play over his lips. "It positively makes the heart race," he agreed. "Although, I would much prefer it were they to be fighting over me."

A sigh came from the woman seated beside Didier. "You are such a cad," Monique sighed as she looked at her cards. She nodded at Henri. "And you are even worse." She looked at the card she received and shook her head.

Desiree could not help the laugh that escaped her lips. "You should know about cads! You have been stuck here in the country with my Philippe and Xavier for years!"

"I simply do not know how you do it," Charlotte smiled, enjoying the opportunity to needle Monique about her older brother.

Monique placed her hands on the table and fixed a sweet smile upon her face. "Well, my dear, with age does come experience," she began. "And such a thing allows me to handle cads with grace and elegance." She moved her hands to place one on Didier's shoulder and one on Henri's shoulder.

Laughter broke out from those seated about the table.

"Touché, dear cousin," Henri finally managed as he dealt himself another card and turned to Monique. "And where is your charming husband? I thought he would be playing cards with us before luncheon?"

Monique nodded toward the ceiling. "He was in the study briefly with Philippe and now he is upstairs visiting with Raoul."

Charlotte sighed. "I hope Xavier is able to talk some sense into Raoul."

Henri nodded about the table. "Are we ready?" He watched as everyone nodded. "Cards over, ladies." All the cards were turned over, with Henri going last and turning over the ace of spades and the king of spades. "I believe this house wins this round," he said with a wink and a smile.

"The house always wins," Didier muttered under his breath, not caring if anyone heard him.

Upstairs, the man who caused Philippe such worry, the man who Christine could feel slipping away from her, was seated on the lounge in his bedroom. There was actually a smile on Raoul's face as he spoke with the man who was seated on the chair beside him.

"It is so nice to see you," Raoul was saying and a frown momentarily crossed his face. "And to have someone treat me like a human being."

Xavier was a bit stunned. "Surely that cannot be correct? Everyone is so relieved that you are alive and back home that I cannot picture them doing anything other than rejoicing."

"Look about you," Raoul said as he gestured at things about the room. "Have you ever seen such an elegantly appointed prison?"

"Raoul," Xavier replied with a shake of his head. "I do not think your family keeps you in here for their amusement." He waved at the scars from healed wounds, the fingertips that were still healing. "You were not quite yourself when you returned to us. You were so drugged at first that you did not even know Monique and I had come several times to see you." A smile lit up his face. "And now look at you! Ever since Christine took on your doctors regarding your treatment, you have improved vastly! You are up and out of your bed and I know you have been sneaking out of this room behind everyone's back."

"Damn servants," Raoul muttered.

"Damn older brother," Xavier corrected him. "Oh, please, do not look so shocked! You know perfectly well that nothing in this family goes by without Philippe noticing." He paused for a moment. "Or have you?"

"They may have taken…" Raoul began angrily and stopped. "I have not forgotten anything."

Xavier stood up and crossed the short distance between chair and lounge. He sat down at the end of the lounge near Raoul's feet. "I am not your family. I am your friend and what is said between us will not leave this room." He placed a hand on Raoul's leg. "Please talk to me."

There was a very long silence in which Xavier watched the emotions that played across Raoul's face. He struggled to hold onto his own emotions, unwilling to distract from the moment.

Raoul drew a deep breath and let it out. "It hurts so much to know that while I was in that horrible place life went on without me. Each and every one of you found some way to let me go and move on with your life. And I resent it and it makes me so angry because I will never get those days back! I had to find out from those bastards that Christine was expecting a child! I will never know what the moment was like when Christine first felt our child move. I will never have a summer spent in the country, enjoying lazy mornings on the back portico with my brother. I have lost a part of my life and none of you have!"

Xavier was angry. "Is that what you think it was like?"

Raoul set his jaw and just nodded.

"Then allow me the privilege of disavowing you of those foolish notions." Now it was Xavier's turn to draw a deep breath to steady his emotions. "This whole family died right along with you. You did not see the anger and grief that Philippe suffered each and every time your abductors sent a package. You did not see how your wife shriveled into a mere ghost of herself. You did not have to see your wife collapse when we told her you were dead. You did not see the suddenly brave young woman who got your brother through your funeral and who stood alone with your casket as she said goodbye. You did not see how your brother let himself go, not eating or sleeping or shaving. And you were not here when this letter was read." Xavier reached into his pocket and handed Raoul a piece of paper. "I asked Philippe if he kept it and if I could show it to you." He thrust the paper at Raoul. "Read this."

"Why?" Raoul asked even as his hands took the letter. His eyes lowered to look at it, widening as he recognized Christine's handwriting.

"Because this is the letter that Christine sent to tell Philippe that she had left and why," Xavier told him. "This is the letter that explains why Christine felt she had to leave. This is the letter that says she knows she was being blamed for your death because of the truth she had been withholding. And this is the letter that showed how much she loved you and wanted you to be proud of her." Xavier watched as Raoul closed his eyes in pain as he finished the letter. "And that was the same reaction that each and everyone of us had when we found out that Christine was pregnant and left so that she could protect your child."

"She has changed so much," Raoul said softly as his chin trembled. He kept hold of the letter as his eyes opened. "Philippe is the same. My sisters are the same. You are the same. Henri has changed somewhat but he is still the same. Yet Christine has changed so much."

"She has had to change," Xavier reminded Raoul. "When she thought you were dead, Christine found herself alone and with a child on the way. A child, need I remind you, that she was terrified of your family taking away from her."

"They would not have," Raoul grumped.

"No, they would not have," Xavier agreed. "But Christine was so distraught that she could not see that. I would think that you would be proud of how she has grown and changed. She is no longer a little girl but a woman of which any man could be proud."

"I know that. I know that," Raoul admitted and to Xavier it looked as if he wanted to cry as he pulled the letter next to his heart. "Christine is everything I knew she could be – beautiful and smart and strong and capable. She is finally the woman I saw within the girl I married. And now she no longer needs me." Raoul turned his head to look out the window. "She no longer needs me," he whispered.

Raoul was not the only one who was finding himself lost without the woman he loved. Yet while Raoul was mourning his loss, Erik had moved past his loss and knew exactly what he was doing and where he would be going. He looked out the window and watched as the sun slowly began to set and turned back to his garret. Erik's eyes slowly scanned the clean room, looking for any flaw, any sign that he had ever been there. A slight smile curled his lips as he nodded – no one would ever be able to tell that he had ever been there. A final glance over his shoulder to the lengthening shadows of the outside world, told Erik that now was the time. He crossed the floor of the garret, pausing to gather his cape and throw it over his shoulders. The hat that rested atop the coat rack followed the cape. Erik adjusted the hat without looking, moving it down over the right side of his face, covering the familiar leather mask behind which his true being was once again hidden. Erik opened the door before him and walked from the garret without a single backward glance.

A lifetime, which had mostly been spent hiding in and clinging to the shadows, allowed Erik to move through the cold November night without being seen. He smirked as he gazed up at the moonless night sky; it was a sign that his choice had been correct. It was a sign that he was being welcomed back to the dark. It was a sign that the arms if the night were once again opening up to him. Erik felt the night move through him, a welcome, comfortable feeling of black numbness. He drew his cape more tightly about him in an attempt to hold onto that feeling, desperate to reclaim the discarded remnants of his previous life. Each step he made through the shadows of a deepening Paris night carried Erik further and further from all that he might have been and back to all that he was. Those footsteps guided Erik from a life where he had been a part of humanity and back to a life where he manipulated humanity.

It took hours of walking from the northwest corner of Paris for Erik to reach his final destination. He moved in the shadows, hiding from the gaslights, turning his head from passing people. He kept his head down, unwilling to make eye contact with the lesser beings who passed by him. On those rare occasions when a brave soul would catch his eye, the person would turn in fear at the frightening glitter in the eyes that stared back. It was at those times that Erik would feel a familiar, nearly forgotten, sense of power fill his being and a deadly smile would pass over his lips. He could feel his chest swell as power surged through him, filling his dark voids with an even darker sense of being.

Erik smiled to himself as he began to recognize landmarks from his past. The streets were empty in the wee hours of the morning as he finally stopped before the edifice that loomed up before him. Erik raised an eyebrow at the scaffolding that covered the front of the building. The thought passed through his mind that Monsieur Garnier was gong to be quite displeased to find out that he had dug up an old friend in his attempt to restore his opera house. Erik wondered if Garnier was as good an architect as the papers claimed. He wondered if Garnier turned out to be incompetent, would the man succumb to the renewed haunting of the opera ghost. Erik laughed slightly as he thought that none of it really mattered and then sighed as he walked from the front of the building, turning the corner, seeking a familiar entrance. And finding it.

He stood silently for a moment inside the entrance through which he had slipped unseen. Erik waited as his eyes grew accustomed to the nearly pitch blackness of the tunnel. As objects slowly began to draw into focus, Erik began walking. His feet walked purposefully down the long tunnel, sidestepping traps that no one but the person who set them would know. Erik stopped for a moment at the end of the tunnel, reaching into a crevice in the wall, finding a lever and pulling at the mechanism. His eyes watched as the wall before him creaked open. Erik waited until the door stopped and walked through the opening, pausing to pull at another lever, closing the wall behind him. He walked across the floor scattered with what remained of the mob's fury. Erik swung his cloak from his shoulders, dropping it over the damp, moldy mess on the floor. He stood motionless before the instrument before him before taking a seat and running his hands lovingly over the dust covered keys of his pipe organ.

"Welcome home," Erik breathed. "Are you glad to see me old friend?"

And as the sun began to color the morning sky, chasing away the night in which Erik hid himself, another person so familiar with that darkness was beginning to awaken. Christine's eyes slowly fluttered open and a single hand reached out to massage her child. There was no response to the circles she traced over her swollen belly and a frown passed over Christine's still sleepy countenance. "At least one of us can still sleep," she said as she tossed the covers to the end of the bed and sat up. Christine pushed herself to the edge of the mattress and slowly stood up. She turned around and reached for her dressing gown and paused, as she looked at the bed in the dim light peaking in through the velvet draperies. Christine drew a deep breath as she quickly shrugged into her dressing gown. She moved across her room and knocked lightly on the door to the adjoining room. The door slowly opened and Marie stood there, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Marie, I need your help," Christine stated.

Suddenly Marie was awake. "What is it? What is wrong?"

"Quietly and without waking Raoul, I need you to go and wake Philippe and bring him to me."

Christine reached out trembling hands to hold to Marie's arms. "There is dried blood on my sheets."