Chapter Summary: Raoul and Christine share a quiet, very normal moment. Philippe finds amusement in the very different personalities of his two sisters. Henri needs an ally and pulls Arthur into the plans he and Didier have made. Monique, Xavier and Didier finalize their own plans for the party at Chagny. Tallis receives a final bit of wisdom from Antoinette. And a frigid winter day fades into a still cold afternoon bringing shadows that hold fingers of dreaded anticipation.
CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN
"Oh," Raoul sighed as he drew his wife closer, feeling her head go to his shoulder, "I had forgotten how nice it is to just cuddle you beneath the blankets." His voice lowered a notch. "How soft you feel, how you smell like the sweetest thing in creation." Raoul laughed as a little hand or foot reached out, nudging him in the side. "What does that feel like?" he wondered. "Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes," Christine told him as she gently placed an arm over his chest. "There are times when I wonder why I do not have bruises from how hard your daughter kicks me." She chuckled. "Maybe it shall be a boy after all."
Raoul kissed the top of the head that rested beneath his chin. "I do not care if it is a boy or a girl as long as it is healthy." He drew a deep breath and decided to express his fears to his wife. "All I want is for you both to be healthy and survive. I would not … I could not…" Raoul turned his head away unable to finish speaking his fears.
Christine took back the arm that rested across her husband's chest, her hand reaching to his face, turning it toward her. "Open your eyes and look at me," she said softly. "Please, Raoul, just look at me. It will be all right, I promise."
The eyes that slowly opened were full of fear and longing. "I am so afraid," Raoul whispered. "I could not stand to lose you again."
"I am not going to die," Christine insisted, knowing to where her husband's thoughts drifted. She allowed her fingers to lightly massage Raoul's temple. "I am going to be right in this bed when our child is born and you are going to be right by my side." She smiled. "And when everything is finished, we are going to hold our child and quiet its tears and kiss it all over and laugh as we count tiny fingers and toes and …"
"I am sure my mother had those same dreams," Raoul replied softly.
"I am not your mother," Christine insisted. "I am young and…"
"And you have had so many problems..."
Christine suddenly burst into laughter, turning her head into Raoul's neck, her laughter reverberating in his throat. Raoul's eyes held a mixture of amusement and confusion as he looked at Christine. "What is so funny?" he wondered. "Am I that much of a fool for worrying? Am I…"
Christine lifted her head and placed a finger over Raoul's lips. "Do you have any idea what we have just done?"
"No." Raoul's amusement faded away into total confusion.
"Oh Lord, Raoul," Christine managed as she struggled to turn her laughter into giggles. She reached her free hand to support the swell of her belly as her whole body shook. "We just spent the last minutes interrupting each other, never letting the other finish a sentence." Her mirth was rapidly turning into tears. "It was like it used to be! It was like every other morning when we would stay late in bed for no reason and just talk!" Christine could not stop the tears. "It was just so … so normal!"
Raoul was silent for a moment and then tightened his hold on his wife, massaging her back, planting kisses all over her face. "I am so sorry, Christine," he whispered between kisses. "I did not know. I could not even remember…"
Christine ran a soothing hand down her husband's cheek, fingers tracing the outline of his features. "I shall always remember for both of us." She laughed slightly through her tears as the baby demanded its share of the attention. "I shall always remember for all of us," she said softly and snuggled back into her husband's embrace, allowing Raoul to draw the covers up over them as they continued to rebuild that which had been lost and neglected, finding warmth against the frigid November morning in each other's arms.
Downstairs at Chagny, around the breakfast table, things were not quite as peaceful as plans for the afternoon tea were dissected down to the minutest detail. Philippe sat at the head of the table, sipping at his tea, allowing his sisters to do as they pleased. A slight smile curled his lips for he knew that all of their planning and plotting would be in vain; he would have his way in the end. He always had his way. There were privileges, after all, to being head of the family.
"The cream linens?" Desiree was bemoaning. "That shall be so terribly mundane! The whole table set in nothing but cream." She shuddered in mock horror.
"What would you suggest?" Charlotte wondered, her voice holding a tone of bored resignation. She had given in to her older sister's whims far too often. "And please do not let it be too garish! I know your taste toward the flamboyant."
Desiree appeared shocked. "What did you think I was going to suggest? We all change into togas, place laurel wreaths on our heads and dance in the drifting snow outside." She looked down at the food on her plate. "Oh, please, Charlotte! Do use the brain I am certain God placed into your head!"
Philippe fought back the urge to chuckle out loud.
"I thought the cream linens would be dignified," Charlotte told her older sister, her tone slightly aggrieved.
"This is meant to be a celebration and not a funer…" Desiree caught herself before she finished the word.
"Pardon me?" Philippe asked rather bluntly and watched as both his sisters turned a bright red. "Consider yourself lucky that you did finish that word," he scolded Desiree. "I do not ever want to hear that word in this house again," Philippe warned and listened to the potent silence that suddenly surrounded his breakfast table. "Am I understood?"
"Yes," Charlotte replied in a meek tone.
"Yes," Desiree added.
Philippe leaned back in his chair, allowing a look of smug self-satisfaction to play across his face. It was not often these days that he found the opportunity to call his two sisters to task and Philippe found he quite liked the memories it evoked. "Now, as to this afternoon's festivities," Philippe addressed them, the smug smile on his face turning genuine. "I quite like that word 'festivities'," he said to no one in particular. "The cream linens are being ironed even as we argue over them at this table."
Charlotte flashed her sister an "I won this time!" smile.
"Yet in deference to the fact that this is a party to celebrate the return of life to our family and to the world around us," Philippe said as he turned to Desiree and smiled. "We will be using the burgundy and gold china service of which Mother was so fond." Philippe felt a tug at his heartstrings at the look that passed over his sister's face. "I thought you might approve," he said softly.
"That was always the china Mother used whenever she felt there was something to celebrate," Desiree sighed.
"Even if it was only the fact that all her children were around her dinner table at the same time," Charlotte finished with the same sigh in her voice.
"And all her children will be around the table this afternoon," Philippe reminded them. "That is something that is a miracle to be celebrated and Mother would wish us to do so." The smile returned to his face. "I believe we have even found some late season burgundy chrysanthemums in the hothouse. Mathilde is preparing all our favorite dishes." Philippe leaned forward, placing a finger to his lips before speaking. "And we are going to be celebrating in this room."
"What?" Charlotte exclaimed.
"What about Raoul?" Desiree finished her sister's exclamation.
"Raoul and I have been working on building his strength by walking him up and down the stairs," Philippe told them. "It is to be a surprise for Christine. Do not spoil it."
"Ooh, secrets!" Desiree grinned across the table at her younger sister.
"We love secrets!" Charlotte turned to nod at Philippe.
"Some things never change," Philippe said as he reached for the hands of the two women seated on either side of him. "And I would have it no other way!"
The merry feast that Philippe and his sisters planned for that very afternoon was far from the mind of one person at Chagny, his thoughts staying within the walls of the ancient chateau but drifting in a different direction. His thoughts drifted not toward merriment but toward caution, usual thoughts of gaiety turning somber as he contemplated his own actions planned for that very afternoon. He looked at the person staring back at him from the mirror, barely recognizing his own countenance. He drew a deep breath and fixed a smile on his face and sighed, the smile turning into a frown.
"I shall never be able to pull this off," Henri said to himself. "Philippe is never going to accept any trivial excuse which I may offer up." He let out a long angry sigh. "Hells Bells! He will never accept any kind of excuse!" Henri watched as his reflection shook its head at him. "No, I am definitely going to need an accomplice. Someone I can trust. Someone Philippe will trust implicitly." The reflection nodded back at him. "I am going to need Arthur." Henri turned and walked out of his bedroom, going down the stairs and straight to Philippe's study where he knew Arthur could be found organizing the day's work.
Henri watched as Arthur looked up from where he was laying out papers across Philippe's desk, a look of bewilderment upon his face. Henri turned to lock the door to the study behind him and turned back to the room only to find the look on Arthur's face changing to one of slowly simmering anger.
"What do you think you are doing?" Arthur asked evenly, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
"Locking us in," Henri said with a forced smile in his face and in his voice.
"Open that door at once," Arthur commanded, "or I shall do something that I will regret later."
The smile on Henri's face quickly disappeared as he crossed the room to stand at the edge of Philippe's desk. "I know you still do not think very much of me," Henri began. "I know that I have earned such a thing but, Arthur, I need your help!" There was no answer from the man who stared at him. "Please!" Henri pleaded. "I am begging you!" He watched as Arthur carefully studied him and Henri heaved a huge inner sigh as Arthur finally nodded his head.
"What is it that you require of me?" Arthur wondered.
"I need you to come up with some excuse as to why I cannot be here this afternoon," Henri said simply and watched as Arthur's neck began to turn red.
"Are you out of your mind?" Arthur blurted out and raised a hand. "Do not answer that. If you think that you can spend this afternoon carousing God-knows-where doing God-knows-what with God-knows-who then you are truly out of your mind! Philippe will never allow it and I am not about to abet you in this escapade! You can just turn around and walk right out that door!"
Henri struggled not to allow his anger to retort to Arthur's disbelief. "Not even if it meant possibly discovering the identity of the person who was behind what happened to Raoul," he said softly.
A heavy lull descended upon the locked study, two men studying each other. One man looked to see the truth behind the words spoken. The other man looked to see if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
"What do you know, Henri?" Arthur finally asked.
Henri took his life in his hands. "It is only a suspicion and I am not even sure. Didier has a different suspicion and I suspect both of us have two separate pieces of the same puzzle." He sighed and shook his head. "If only we could put them together, both of us know we will finally have the proof that Inspector Rousseau needs to arrest the person who hired the men that nearly killed my cousin."
Arthur was quiet for a moment as he absorbed the impact of Henri's words before stepping out from behind Philippe's desk. He grabbed Henri by the arm and nearly dragged the young man toward the fireplace on the far side of the room – away from doors and windows. "What are you saying?" Arthur shook his head. "No, let me rephrase that. What the hell do you think you are saying?"
So, quietly and without any of the theatrics for which he come to be known, Henri told Arthur what had been happening to him since the day Raoul had been taken. He reminded Arthur of the voices he had heard that led to Raoul's rescue. He spoke of the vision he had been seeing since shortly after Raoul had disappeared – the vision of a gold cross. Henri told Arthur of sitting upon horses at the swimming hole with Didier, an old memory passing through his mind. He spoke of returning to the swimming hole again and again – both drunk to the gills and sober as a priest – before finally realizing the cross he had been seeing was the one Raoul always wore. Henri shared with Arthur the secrets that Didier had entrusted to him. He told Arthur of the secret attic room with the box containing vials of powder that were similar to that which the police believed were used on Raoul. He told Arthur of the secret fears Didier had only shared with him – the fears that had haunted a child's dream and now kept a young man up at night for fear of succumbing to them. Henri told Arthur of going to the police with his suspicions, wanting to help but not knowing how, seeking their advice.
"And now we have the perfect opportunity to find something – anything! – that will give us positive proof one way or the other!" Henri exclaimed, a desperate, pleading look on his face. "This may be the only opportunity we will ever have!" There was still no answer from Arthur. "Inspector Rousseau will meet us there! We are not going in to this with our eyes closed, Arthur! Didier and I both know what may happen." Henri drew a deep breath and lowered his voice. "But we also know what may happen if we do not."
It was barely a moment after Henri's voice drifted away into the quiet room before Arthur nodded his head. "I will help," he replied. "I will come up with some excuse that Philippe will find plausible." Arthur nodded his head. "You are correct; he is more likely to believe it coming from me than coming from you." Arthur held up a hand in warning. "But, if you do not return before the end of the party or if anything untoward begins to happen, I shall go right to Philippe and tell him what has been happening. I will not allow anything else to befall anyone in this household." A slight smile crossed his face. "Not even you."
Henri finally remembered to breathe. "Thank you," he said simply. "I shall come to you when I am ready to leave and we can then agree on a reasonable time when I should return." Henri hesitantly held out his hand, feeling some of his building apprehension fade away as Arthur clasped it warmly.
Warmth and anticipation could also be found at Cote de Vallee as the three residents of the great house prepared for the celebration to be held that afternoon. They were gathered in a sunny parlor, a fire burning in the hearth, logs cracking merrily, helping to chase away the frigid air that seeped in through ancient stones.
"What do you think?" Monique asked as she drew back, looking at her handiwork.
"I think," Xavier said as he looked at the gaily wrapped package on the table, "that you have always wrapped the most elegant, enticing packages of anyone I have ever known." He wrapped his arms about his wife's shoulders and felt her hands reach up to lightly caress them.
"Thank you, my dear," Monique replied and her gaze turned toward the other packages scattered about the room. "I must agree; I do nice work."
Xavier planted a kiss on his wife's head before standing upright. "It is one of the things I admire most about you – your ability to create beauty from the merest scraps of things."
"Flatterer," Monique replied with a laugh in her voice. She turned to look at Didier who was standing before the fire. "If you are that chilled," she told him, "perhaps you should find a sweater or a jacket to slip on over your shirt. We do not want anything to prevent you from accompanying us to Chagny this afternoon."
Didier turned from the fire with a smile on his face that he did not feel yet he hoped it appeared sincere. "I am not chilled despite the sudden change of weather outside," he assured the two people who looked at him with worry in their eyes. "I was just playing an old childhood game."
"I do not remember any childhood game that involved fire," Xavier said, a puzzled from creasing his brow. "Is this something that I should be concerned about?" he wondered with a wink and a nod.
"No," Didier replied with a smile and shake of his head. He began to cross the room toward his cousins. "I used to love to sit in front of the fire on cold evenings and study the flames. I would imagine that I could see all sorts of faces and creatures in the flickering flames. I would make up stories about them." He sighed as he stopped by Xavier's side. "It was the silly thoughts of a young boy and the even sillier wish of a young man trying to recapture a bit of his innocence."
"I do not think you have done anything to lose your innocence," Xavier replied and chuckled as he took note of the blush that crept up his wife's cheeks. "Or am I completely wrong on that point?"
Monique's blush had also not gone unnoticed by Didier but he had seen something that Xavier had missed. Didier saw the knowing light that had flashed so quickly through Monique's violet eyes and he knew he dared not make any mistakes before the game could reach its justified ending. "I do not think such a thing is to be discussed in mixed company," Didier replied, nodding his head slightly at Monique before turning to Xavier. "I promise I shall tell all when we return from Chagny this evening." There was a distinct twinkle in his golden-brown eyes. "If – and only if – you promise to break out the aged brandy and if we can sit before a cheery fire."
"The simple needs of the young," Xavier sighed, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder, long fingers massaging the tense muscles beneath. "Would that we were that young again!"
"I do not know that I would wish to be that young again," Monique replied and smiled up at the worried face that looked down at her. "Yet I do know that I should wish it were I to be able to share it again with you and with the knowledge of how happy we would always be together."
Xavier leaned over and placed a kiss on his wife's forehead, allowing his lips to linger. "You are the greatest treasure I have ever discovered and I am so lucky to have captured you," he whispered before drawing back.
"And I am so very glad you caught me," Monique whispered back.
"I think I feel ill," Didier muttered to no one in particular.
"You say that now, my dear lad," Xavier told him. "I promise not to remind you of such a comment when you finally marry the woman that you love."
"I – on the other hand – make no such promise," Monique told Didier.
"I can see that I am doomed to a life of unending debauched bachelorhood," Didier sighed, a look of mock resignation crossing his handsome face, before he broke into an infectious laughter that drew both Xavier and Monique into his mirth. A stray thought passed through Didier's mind that this would not be the last time he would laugh with such abandon. A prayer followed quickly on the heels of Didier's thought that God would not all this be the last time he would laugh.
Stray thoughts, passing prayers, words that could only be formed in emotional sighs were passing through the mind of the woman who stood looking out at the snow-covered garden, the heavy-laden branches of trees just beyond.
"What are you thinking?" Antoinette wondered as she stared at Tallis' rigid back.
"I do not even know," Tallis whispered back. Her head shook slightly. "No, I do know what I am thinking but I do not have the words to express what is in my head and heart and soul."
Antoinette fought down the urge to laugh; Tallis sounded so much like Erik in that moment. "Try," she urged instead.
"I … I …" Tallis struggled with her inner turmoil, refusing to turn to look at Antoinette, preferring instead to stare out at the garden that had witnessed so much of her happiness. "I feel like the garden upon which I look. Erik and I had so many happy moments there. We laughed and we talked and we danced and we kissed and we fought. It was like a fairy tale come true for me. I was falling in love with the beast and he loved me back. I was turning him into a man and he was turning me into a woman." Tallis hung her head, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened. "I should have known it was only a dream," she said with a soft sadness. "I should have known. Now my dreams are as dead and cold as that garden." She finally turned to look at Antoinette. "Why do we always destroy the one thing we want most in this world?"
Antoinette patted the sofa upon which she sat and waited until Tallis had walked over and sat beside her. Antoinette took Tallis' hands in her own, squeezing them lightly. "My dear," she began gently, "we are not Gods or prophets, we are only human beings who go through each day trying to do the best that we can with what we are given. One of the things we are given is free-will and what we chose to do with that gift is either our greatest blessing or our most dreaded curse." Antoinette sighed. "First Erik and now you have made your decisions. He could have chosen to fight harder for you. You could have chosen to accept what he had to offer to you. Each of you has made your decisions based upon what was in your hearts at the time. Were your hearts wrong? Were your decisions wrong?" Antoinette shook her head. "That is something I cannot say. Only you can look deep within your heart and know the truth that lies there." She smiled slightly. "What you can do now is take the free-will you have, acknowledge it as a blessing and use that blessing to pull Erik from his darkness, to pull yourself from your own darkness. Then you must take your blessing – that choice you have freely made – and graciously and without question accept it with every flaw it presents to you. You know that is the only way you shall ever be happy or complete." Antoinette nodded. "It is the only way that Erik shall ever be happy or complete."
A single tear slipped from the corner of Tallis' eye and she took back a hand, a finger wiping it away. She sighed deeply, worried eyes studying the face of the woman seated next to her. "I know," Tallis said. "I know." She turned her head to once again look out toward the garden. "I only hope I am not too late," she whispered, a feeling of dread beginning to wrap its cold fingers about her.
Slowly the frigid morning progressed into a bright afternoon, the overhead sun making the snow sparkle like diamonds but doing little to chase away the chill. Plans continued to be made, food prepared, gifts wrapped, maps memorized. The Earth continued to turn and high noon slowly began to creep into late afternoon, the sun beginning to lower in the sky, the shadows lengthening and deepening earlier in the shorter days of winter. The fingers of dread that Tallis had felt began to creep forth from those shadows, wrapping around the hearts of all those who knew and feared the possibilities of what the coming hours could bring.