Chapter Summary: Monsieur Corhei arrives to treat Christine. Christine puts her foot down and orders that no one tell Raoul what has happened. Fortunately, Marie does not listen very well …

Author's Notes: A fetal stethoscope (also known as Pinard's stethoscope or a pinard) is a listening device used in the care of pregnancy. The instrument is shaped like a listening trumpet and is placed on the abdomen of the woman so that the midwife or doctor can find the fetal heart sounds. It was developed by Frenchman Adolphe Pinard (1844-1934) and was in use as little as 30 years ago.

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE

Monsieur Joris Corhei smiled as he bent over Christine. "You may have one last watery sniffle," he said, "but then you must remain as still and as silent as possible." He waited for a moment as he stared into the worried eyes that looked back at him. "Do you understand me, Madame?"

"Yes," Christine replied, as she took her free hand to wipe away the frightened tears that dampened her cheeks. She turned her head to glance at Meg who was seated beside her on the bed, holding on to her other hand. Christine managed a wavering smile for Meg and turned her head back so that she was looking at the green silk lining the bed canopy. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly and gave one last watery sniffle. "I am ready," Christine said as she closed her eyes, feeling Meg's cool hand go to rest over her feverish brow. Christine could feel something placed over her abdomen, pushing slightly against her stretched skin. She did not wish to think about what was happening so Christine let her mind drift back over the events of the morning that had brought her to this moment:

Philippe's long legs carried him quickly down the hall; Marie having to nearly run to keep up with him. He only paused to push open the door that was slightly ajar, trusting that Marie would close it softly behind him. In a moment Philippe was across the bedroom floor to take the woman who stood at the end of the bed into his arms. "Christine," he whispered as he placed a kiss on her head before drawing back, his worry a palpable presence. "What has happened?"

Christine was still; the only visible sign of emotion the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes. "I woke up to find blood on my sheets." She held up a hand to stop Philippe's words. "It was not much and I think it has stopped but I need to see a doctor and I need to do it without Raoul knowing."

"But…" Philippe tried.

"No," Christine was adamant. "Raoul already thinks the worst of me and he does not need to be upset further until I know for certain what is happening."

"How do you propose to do that with Raoul sleeping across the hall?"

"Meg and Val are sleeping in the other wing." Christine drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders; she had quickly and carefully thought out her actions. "I am going to go there; in that way Raoul will never know what is happening until someone tells him." She nodded slightly. "Plus there is the side staircase and you can bring the doctor up those stairs and no one else in the chateau need know."

Philippe was incredulous. "Should you be walking? Should you even be standing?"

Christine looked crestfallen. "Philippe, I need at least one member of this family to trust me! Please! I need your help!"

"I am sorry," Philippe began as he turned to look over his shoulder at Marie. "Is the door still closed?" He waited until Marie nodded and turned back to Christine. "I am gong to walk you down to the room next to where your friends are staying. Then I shall go for the doctor myself."

"Thank you," Christine said as she sniffled back a sob.

"I wish you would let me tell Raoul," Philippe began, "but I shall not for you have your reasons," he finished and smiled. "And I do trust you." Philippe wrapped a supportive arm about Christine's waist. "Let us not waste any more time."

Christine had found the walk down the hall, across the second floor landing and down the other hall to be a challenge; yet she said nothing. She clenched her teeth together and kept envisioning one foot moving in front of the other. She knew that Philippe kept glancing at her, able to feel the shaking that threatened to bring her to her knees. But Christine could not stop for while she could feel her marriage slipping away, she still had a husband to protect. She could not and would not destroy what little happiness to which Raoul still held until there was no other choice. Christine had gratefully sunk to the mattress to which Philippe and Marie had guided her.

"I am going to get Meg and I shall be back shortly with the doctor," Philippe said as he quickly left the room.

Christine looked up as Marie took her hands.

"Can you feel the baby move?" Marie wondered.

"I am shaking too hard to tell," Christine whispered.

"Christine!" Meg exclaimed as she ran into the room, having not even thrown a dressing gown over her negligee.

Marie moved discreetly out of the way as Meg sat on the bed, gathering Christine into her arms. She heard Christine finally break into choking sobs as Meg drew Christine's head to her shoulder, murmuring words of comfort. "I think we should lay her down."

Meg looked up, her face as pale as Christine's. "I think you are right." Meg put her hand under Christine's chin and raised her head. "You need to lay down and put your feet up." Meg stood, helping Christine to swing her legs up on the bed as Marie gathered pillows, slipping them under Christine's feet.

"Please do not go!" Christine begged as she grabbed onto Meg's hands.

"I am not going anywhere," Meg assured her as she sat beside Christine.

And Meg still sat beside Christine, holding onto her hand, watching as Joris Corhei's hands felt about Christine's swollen belly. She watched as he reached for a huge trumpet like instrument, placing it over a spot on Christine's belly that one hand marked. Meg had placed a cool hand over Christine's forehead as Joris placed his ear over the opening at the top of the instrument. She watched his face as he stood very still in the silent room. Meg drew in a shallow breath that she held as a puzzled look passed over Joris' face. It was a breath she let out as a huge smile began to grow on her own face. "Christine," she said urgently, as she shook the hand to which she held. "Open your eyes." Meg looked down.

"I am afraid," Christine whispered.

"Open your eyes!" Meg insisted. "He is smiling!"

Christine opened one eye and peeked at the expression on her doctor's face; the other eye snapped open. "What?" Christine managed to say past lungs that could not remember how to breathe and a heart that raced faster than any thoroughbred.

Joris straightened and looked at Meg. "Would you like to hear what a baby's heartbeat sounds like?"

"My baby is alive?" Christine asked as she struggled to rise up on her elbows.

"Lay down," Joris ordered her with a slight smile on his face. "Baroness?"

Christine turned her head toward Meg. "Go," she said. "Tell me what my baby's heartbeat sounds like."

Meg rose and walked the few paces to where Joris stood, holding lightly to the Pinard stethoscope. "What do I do?" she asked.

"If Madame will remain still and quiet for a few more moments," Joris said, his eyes twinkling as he glanced briefly at Christine and turned back to Meg. "I will hold the Pinard and you may place your ear over the opening at the top."

Meg did as she was told and stood silently for a moment, her ear over the end of the Pinard. Slowly her eyes began to widen and a huge smile grew on her face. She straightened and turned to Christine. "It is incredible!"

"What does my baby sound like?" Christine asked eagerly.

"Like … like …" Meg struggled for words. "Like the sound of a very fast metronome ticking under water." She bent back over the Pinard, a look of wonder and awe upon her face. "It is incredible," Meg breathed as she raised her head and looked at Monsieur Corhei. "Will my baby sound like that?"

"Every baby sounds like that," he promised Meg and turned his attention to Christine. "Your baby sounds perfectly healthy."

"Thank you, God," Christine said as her eyes closed momentarily in prayer. "What happened?" she continued as she opened her eyes. "Why was there blood on my sheets? Why could I not feel my baby move? Why was she not moving like she usually does? Am I going to lose my baby? I cannot lose my baby!" The questions and fears were pouring out of Christine faster than she could form a coherent thought. "What is happening to me!"

Joris looked around and reached for a chair that was tucked beneath a vanity. He pulled the chair next to the bed and sat down, taking one of Christine's hands in his own. "You said you believe you have another six to eight weeks before this baby is due," he asked.

Christine's eyes grew very wide. "I am not going to have this baby early, am I?"

"Honestly, I do not know." The physician drew a deep breath, calming himself so that he could calm his patient. "This is what I believe has happened," he began. "Your baby has dropped very far down in your womb. That is something that should not happen for another two to four weeks." He stroked Christine's hand as her mouth opened. "But each pregnancy is different. While this could be a sign that you will deliver early, I do not believe it is so for your baby's head is not in quite the correct position yet."

Christine raised her free hand to rest against her forehead. "What did I do wrong? I have done everything I was told to do. Why is this happening to my baby?"

Joris took his free hand and removed the one that Christine had placed on her head. "You have done nothing," he told her. "Every pregnancy - every birth - is different."

Christine asked the one question that had terrified her. "What about the blood?"

"I think that – perhaps - your baby dropped suddenly during the night and the resultant pressure against your cervix may have burst some tiny blood vessels." Joris smiled at the panicked look that Christine gave him. "I highly doubt it will happen again but - just in case - I want you to spend the next day in this bed with your feet raised just as they are now."

"Thank you," Christine breathed as she turned to look at Marie, who was standing, waiting in a corner before turning back to the doctor.

"I can tell that this is a very old chateau," Joris went on, "but is there a bath close by?"

"There is one in the room next door," Meg piped up.

Joris nodded. "That is as far as you may go, then," he addressed Christine. "I think the reason your child has not been as active as you have grown to know is that your child may be as shocked by what happened as you have been. What affects the mother, affects the child." He thought for a moment to himself. "You have said, though, that your child is, once again, moving in a usual pattern."

"Yes," Christine said around the relieved tears that dripped down her cheeks, dampening her hair and the pillow beneath.

"That is very good." Joris stood. "I will be back this evening to check on you and then again in the morning. Plus I am going to give you something that will allow you to relax. I want you to sleep and dream happy thoughts and think upon nothing else for the next two days."

"It will not hurt my baby?" Christine worried.

Joris shook his head. "It is an herbal tea. I promise I will never give you anything that would harm your child."

Christine nodded her assent.

"I am going to go and inform the Comte about your condition as he is quite worried." Joris reached out to touch Christine's hand. "And I shall see you later tonight." He turned his gaze toward Meg. "If anything happens, you are to send for me immediately."

"I understand," Meg said and watched as the doctor left the room to speak with Philippe. She then turned her attention back to Christine, a questioning look on her face.

"No," Christine said emphatically. "You are not to tell Raoul."

"But Christine…" Meg tried.

"I will not have him upset," Christine insisted and her voice softened, "especially by me." She sighed and reached for her child, smiling as she felt little elbows and knees poke at her gentle massages. "You need to go about your day as if nothing has happened." Christine told Meg. "You need to tell everyone to go about their day as if nothing has happened."

Meg's lips set in a firm line. "And what if Raoul asks for you or should come looking for you? I cannot lie to him, Christine."

Christine frowned lightly. "I doubt if he will even notice I am gone," she sighed. "But if he does, just tell him that I am resting or something." Her eyes closed. "I cannot think at the moment."

"I will see to it," Marie said from the corner.

"Thank you," Christine replied, unable to see the look of determination upon Marie's face.

It was a determination that grew in Marie's heart and mind over the course of the day. It grew as she sat by, keeping Christine company, sometimes chatting about their time by the sea, other times just watching Christine's restless sleep. It grew as Marie watched Philippe come nearly every ten minutes to check on Christine until Christine had shooed him away lest Raoul or anyone else in the chateau discover what had happened. It grew as Marie listened to Meg try to speak sense to Christine about telling Raoul what had happened and Christine would say she was tired and close her eyes, effectively cutting off the conversation. Marie's determination grew moment by moment until, as the light began to soften and Christine finally fell into a deep sleep, she could stand no more and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Marie stood and glanced at the mantle clock, nodding to herself as she realized that everyone would be gathering for tea in the downstairs parlor - everyone but the one person with whom she needed to speak. Marie gave a last glance at Christine who was still and silent on the huge bed; she nodded to herself and quietly left the room. Marie moved quickly down the hallway, pausing momentarily before the landing, looking cautiously around the corner and into the downstairs entry. She could only see the ever present valet waiting at the front door. Marie took long strides across the landing and her rapid footsteps took her down the other hallway, stopping before a closed door which she opened. She moved purposefully into the room, crossing the floor to stand before the highboy. Marie opened a closed drawer near the bottom and pulled out the envelope she knew she would find there. She slipped the envelope into the pocket of her skirt and slipped out the room, crossing the hall to stand before another closed door. Marie drew a deep breath to steady her nerves despite the certainty that lived within her heart and told her that she was doing the correct thing. She raised her hand and knocked lightly on the door.

"Come," a male voice called out.

Marie opened the door and walked into the room, closing it behind her. "Monsieur," she smiled as Raoul looked up from the book he had been reading to see who had entered his room. Marie watched as he placed the open book on the table beside the lounge.

"Marie," Raoul said, a puzzled look crossing his face. "Where is Christine? She is usually in here several times a day and she has not been here today at all. Everyone is saying that she is tired or busy." The puzzled look slowly turned into wistful. "I miss her."

"I know where Madame is," Marie replied as she crossed the room to Raoul's side, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the envelope she had retrieved from Christine's room. "But before I tell you where she is, you need to read this." Marie watched as the wistfulness on Raoul's face turned into worry.

"What is this?" he said as he took the envelope.

"It is a letter that was written two days before we received the news that you were still alive," Marie told him and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think you need to read it." Marie grew quiet as she watched the emotions that played over Raoul's face as he read the letter he held in his hands.

Dearest Philippe, the letter began, I imagine you are stunned and surprised and shocked to be receiving a letter from me after the cowardly way I left Chagny. I know that the words "I am sorry" are not nearly enough of an apology for all the hurt I have brought upon you. You are the one person that did not deserve my cruel and thoughtless deeds and I shall do penance for them for the rest of my days. Yet I was frightened of losing my child and now that I have truly faced that fear, I know that I need fear it no longer. I believe it shall please you and bring a smile to your face to know that I am still in France and that your brother's child and I are doing well. The baby is busily kicking at me, trying to get my attention even as I put pen to paper. I swear she – and I know it will be a she! – knows that I am writing to the uncle she will adore. I have been seeing a doctor regularly and there are many caring people about me who watch for my every need. I have rented a house by the sea which I can see from my windows. I find myself visiting the beach for hours on end and it is in that way that I can keep Raoul close to me. I listen to the cries of the gulls and the pounding of the surf and I can remember the brave boy who rescued my scarf and the gentle, gallant man who loved a silly little girl more than she deserved. Oh, Philippe, it pains me to know that my child will never know what it is like to be cradled in her father's arms, to hear his heartbeat, to know his tenderness and his humor and his wisdom. I can never give her all those things. I can never tell her all the stories of the years when Raoul and I did not know each other. But you can! You can tell my child of her father – of the child that grew into the man. And I want you to be here when she is born. I want my child to know what it is like to be held in those strong arms that Raoul would wrap so lightly about me. I know that when you hold my child, she will be able to feel her father's touch and she will be calm and know what it is to be loved. You can give my child her heritage and the one thing I want but I know I will never have again – you can give her Raoul. You can give my child her father."

Marie watched as Raoul carefully folded the letter, placing it on the lounge next to him, before raising his eyes to look at her.

"Why did Christine never say anything about this?" Raoul wondered. "Why could she not say anything to me?"

"Because there are things that happened that are not mentioned in that letter." Marie squared her shoulders, it was now or never but Marie was not about to back down. "I was with your wife from the time she returned to Paris until we came back here. I was there when Erik appeared on our doorstep. I listened to her yell and scream at him, her words carrying through a closed door. I watched as she collapsed and spent the next two weeks nearly motionless as she fought to save your child."

"What?" Raoul was stunned.

"Christine has not had an easy pregnancy," Marie said, forgetting the societal norms as she reverted to the protective friend. "She nearly lost the baby."

"That bastard," Raoul muttered, his face growing grim.

"And you are just as bad," Marie told him.

"Excuse me?"

Marie was not going to back down. "Do you know that your wife has been having problems ever since she returned here? Do you know that she is so frightened of disappointing you, of taking away the one happiness you have, the one thing you want – that baby she carries – that she has been hiding the pain she has been in from you?" Marie flung out her hand in the direction of the other wing. "Do you know that Christine awoke this morning to find blood on her sheets? Even now she is in the room next door to the Baroness, lying still once again, doing everything she knows how to do to make sure your child is born healthy." Marie reached up to brush away angry tears. "She did not want you to know. She knows you have been through a terrible ordeal and she knows that you blame her. She is still trying to protect you, to make sure you get well, to make sure you are happy. She is taking on all your stress and receiving all your anger and you cannot even see that! You cannot see how much she loves you!"

Raoul was silent for moment before bending over, elbows on knees, as he placed his head into his hands. "What have I done?"

"Nothing that you cannot fix," Marie replied in a stern tone of voice, watching, waiting for Raoul to lift his head.

"I cannot hurt her anymore," he whispered.

Marie drew a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. "Then you are not even the man that your wife's angel was!"

Her comment drew Raoul's attention and lifted his head, a furious glint in his eye. "How dare you!" he spat back.

"I dare because I was with your wife when you were not! I dare because – as much as I hated that man – he had the courage to face your wife's grief and anger! I dare because I watched him and your wife struggle past all that grief and anger to find the strength to forgive each other and let go. I dare because I pleaded and cajoled with Christine nearly every day to return to the family that you loved. I dare because I had to listen to your wife mourn alone in the middle of the night as she finally grieved your loss." Marie stamped her foot. "I dare because I was the one who defended you to each and every person who would listen! And I will not have you prove my defense false!"

The two people in the room stared at each other for a long moment, anger glittering in their eyes. It was Raoul who backed down first.

"She does not need me anymore," he said as the anger fled from his eyes but not from his tone of voice.

Marie looked at him in disbelief. "How could I have been so wrong about you!" she said. "You are the only thing she has ever needed or wanted! You have no idea how many nights I would hear her crying for you, pleading with God, even demanding, that He give you back to her! Now that you are back, I begin to wonder why she would have wanted such a thing!" Marie could feel her anger boil over, her heart controlling the words that slipped from her lips. "It would have been far better if you had remained dead!" She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

"Wait!" she heard a voice call out to her. "Marie." It tried again. "Please!" The voice pleaded.

Marie paused by the door, her hand on the knob. "Why?" she asked, refusing to shed the tears that threatened or to turn around.

"Everyone has gone on with their lives," she heard Raoul begin. "Everything has changed so much and I feel … I feel …" Marie heard Raoul's voice catch and turned to face him. "I feel like I no longer belong. I feel like there is nothing left for me and I am afraid to let anyone too close." Marie watched as Raoul turned his head, struggling with his emotions. "I am afraid to find out that everything I listened to for months on end is true. I am afraid that everyone will see that I am the one who has changed." Marie began to cross back to Raoul as he hung his head, his words barely above a whisper. "I am afraid that there is no where left for me to go, no one who wants me."

Marie stopped by Raoul's side and let out a long breath, calming her agitation before she spoke again. "I am sorry that I allowed my anger and my concern for you wife to overcome my better instincts. I am sorry that I spoke out of place and I will understand if such is an unforgivable breech of manners and conduct." She smiled gently at Raoul as he finally turned to look at her. "But for you to think that you do not belong here, that there is no one who wants you is utter nonsense! Even if there was not another soul in this world who would be glad to see you, to hold out welcoming arms, I can think of one who would always – always! – have a smile with which to grace you and an open heart ready to receive you." Marie laid a hand on Raoul's shoulder, knowing it was a breech of protocol but no longer caring. "You must believe that and she needs to hear it." Marie watched as Raoul silently studied her face.

"Can you help me go to her?" he finally asked.

"Of a certainty," Marie replied as she held out hands, helping Raoul to his feet.

Raoul still tired easily and it was a long walk – with many stops – on which Marie guided him. She allowed Raoul to cling to her arm when he tired. Marie waited patiently when Raoul would stop to get his breath. She easily maneuvered him down the long hallway, across the second floor landing and to the door leading to his wife without either of them being seen.

"I will stay here," Marie told him as she watched Raoul place a hand on the doorknob, "and keep watch."

Raoul nodded and managed a small smile. "I hope my wife knows what a good friend you are," he said as he disappeared into the bedroom where Christine slept. He stood quietly for a moment just inside the doorway, his eyes traveling about the room, stopping as they gazed upon the figure sleeping beneath a green satin coverlet. Raoul walked slowly across the floor, grateful for the chair that was next to the bed. He sank down upon the chair, as a hand reached out for the one that lay atop the coverlet. Raoul held to Christine's hand as he studied her pale face. He turned his head and looked toward the foot of the bed, seeing his wife's legs raised to a funny angle. Raoul turned once again to look at Christine's face, afraid to reach out to touch his child, afraid to cause any more hurt to the woman – the family – he loved.

"Dear God, Christine," he said softly. "What have I done?"

Christine only turned her head on her pillow, moaning slightly.

Raoul bent his head over the hand he held. "Will you ever be able to forgive me?"