With a mixture of both uneasy and anticipation I watched my sister-in-law's house draw closer and closer into view.
"In what manner did you 'alert them', Sir?" I had only just then thought about it.
"I sent a telegraph addressed to his sister, last I heard, the Viscount is residing there," the Persian answered.
"Surprising he did not return to London," I whispered against the window panes.
"Oh, Madame, he did."
I looked over at Nadir, "What?"
"Yes, Vicomtess," he said almost apologetically, "he returned thinking perhaps you would have found your way there. I read about it back in February."
Oh darling… I almost could see him standing by the front entrance of our old flat that seemed but a memory to me now, watching life continue on London's crowded streets.
"Though, he obviously returned to France?"
"After you were reported dead," I cringed at the mention of that horrid newspaper article.
There were a thousand more questions I longed to ask, but we were just coming down the driveway to the Mariuear residence. Unthinkingly, I began to pull at my hair, tucking the stray hairs behind my ear and pinching my cheeks.
The Persian chuckled softly and I put my hands back in my lap, with a sigh. "Useless, I suppose?" I smiled, nervously.
"You do look quite tired, but I do not think it will matter to your husband when he sees you again."
We stopped, and I was surprised to see that no footman was waiting for me at the front door. Nadir stepped out first, and then took my hand while I stepped out carefully.
He held my hand for a moment and looked at me with utmost honesty. "I can not thank you enough," I felt that sadness and guilt rise in me again. He turned my hand over in his, and kissed the palm as a sign of respect. I pulled my hand away, begging him not to continue before I cried again. "I hope you see it was truly company that kept you trapped. Company and an attempt to be sure his existence was not entirely missed by the rest of the world. I saw it in his eyes, Madame." I was completely stunned by his words. "You brought him happiness at the very end…I can not even explain. He left this earth with a smile of such acceptance and satisfaction I thought never to see on his face."
I felt my throat tightening. I had not thought such an impulse would be so key to a life's happiness.
I turned to face the house, and heard a clatter in the carriage. Sharply, I spun around.
"You are not leaving me alone here, are you?"
He smiled at me. "We will meet again, I'm sure. I shall remain in the city for a day or two, should you need me"
Feeling uneasy on my own feet, I walked up the front stairs I had not been down since I first left the capital so many months before. When, I see now, my entire person was completely different.
I barely touched the door frame when it was opened cautiously and a mousy face peeked around the handle. The little maid from London, Jane.
"Adelaide?" she breathed, forgetting my most recent status and instead referring to the old comradeship we had had while I had merely been working for the de Chagnys. She dropped the little rag she had had in her hand, and stared at me with an open mouth.
"Dear Jane," I murmured in English – how strange it was to speak English again! "I see the telegraph arrived as sent, where is Raoul?" I was surprised by how upset I was not to see him first.
Jane's eyebrows furrowed, twisting at her apron. "I never heard of no telegram."
"You did not hear of no…a telegram?"
"No, though, the Mistress did get a telegram today. Though, she didn't tell nobody what it was concerning…"
I put my hand to my face in frustration.
She scowled and began to twist at her apron. "You know, that woman his sister," I nodded. "And now she and her husband are out for a few days and…oh, Adelaide!" Her eyes were brimming with shock and happiness, though I gave her a stern look, I was a Vicomtess now, not the Governess. Nobless oblige. So Renee ran? Fascinating.
"So, he's here?" I wanted nothing more but to walk up the stairs and not have anyone see my face so I could weep shamelessly again.
Jane bobbed her head and pointed to the library's door I could barely see for it was up the stairs and down the first hall.
Without a word to Jane, I began what seemed the longest walk from one part of a house to another. I saw a hundred images and heard so many parts of my past while I walked. My last evening with Raoul, and what an innocent picturesque happiness we had been. The strange euphoria I had felt during my abduction, the horror upon my realization of the truth. That god-like man, the brilliantly deranged genius. Then I saw the stark comparison. The dying man who called for the love of someone long since dead. His death bed in my mind cascaded again with the death of my mother, of my sister…
By the time I reached the study door, I was so overcome by every possible emotion in human definition. I paused for a moment. He believed me dead! Worse, that my death had been by my own creation! How was I even to show myself? I did not think any further, I suppose I was relaying on how I would instantly react.
I turned the crystal knob and pushed the door open without a creak. I bit my lip so fiercely, I was sure it was bleeding.
The man I had married had long since vacated his being. I could not believe it was possible for a man to age in such a short time. His hair now was peppered with grey, and his clothes seemed to sag off of him, seemingly a size too large. He sat in a wick-backed chair, looking out at the estate, in his hand an unopened and forgotten letter. His heel tapped, subconsciously, on the wooden floor in some irregular rhythm that played only in his mind.
I walked to the centre of the room, the clicking of my heels not even bringing him out of his reveries.
"Raoul," I said, trying to sound clear and calm, "Raoul?"
His foot stilled and the letter fluttered to the ground. He turned to face me, his past vibrant blue eyes, now dull, stared uncomprehendingly. Quickly remembering how I had so long hesitated to comfort Erik, and how I had finally allowed myself to, I rushed to my husband.
I knelt at his side, and took his old boyish face in my gloved hands.
"Dear God," he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and pulling me up to him, "My God, my God.," he continued, putting a hand at my neck and the other at the side of my face: nearly making sure I was real. "You've come back to me."
I nodded and began to panic, "I didn't run from you, Raoul, I didn't leave, I didn't do what they said…I—"
He placed a finger on my lips to silence me, "I know, Adelaide, I know. I always knew!"
How could I explain everything to him? I could not. I searched for the words to set things straight, but I realized I could hardly breath. I had long since thrown every sense of propriety in private, or a consciousness of how I was viewed to those who loved me, for I realized I no longer cared. I felt so weak at that moment, I did not think, but simply did what I desired.
Burying my face into his loose cravat, I clung to him, nearly fainting from exhaustion and an overwhelming, nameless emotion.
Raoul came to see the changes in me. How could he have not? For he held me, kept me on my feet. He ran his hand up and down my back, comforting me as he had Victoire so many times before. Pulling his fingers through my hair that had given up remaining in a bun, he calmed me. It made me want to weep, knowing that I did not deserve to be so unconditionally loved. And yet, I could not weep. My eyes were as dry as deserts. For the first time in my life, and how strange it was at that moment, I felt most secure and content.
Raoul eventually let go and pulled me away, and then looked at me for a moment. Then, we simultaneously - and silently - agreed to rest on the small sofa in the study and without prompting, I began my tale, very matter-of-factly. Throughout the story, I felt cold and brainless, but, I quickly came to my senses before bubbling over the last few days. I ended the tale so abruptly, even Raoul was surprised.
"—and after the final attack, he slipped into a coma and died. Quietly."
Raoul inhaled deeply, and walked to the window. Unable to even rage as I had believed he would.
"Damned man," he began, calmly, "he has ruined your life too."
I stood quickly and walked to his side. "You're wrong, darling. On both accounts." Raoul looked at me, quizzically, and the tense silence forced me to continue. "He was a man who was tortured, always, and was immune so he did it to others, blind to their…blind to them!" I paused, waiting for Raoul to comment, but he did not. "And he is dead now, so, you should no longer curse him." I could not believe what I myself was saying…I was defending him to a man he had wronged in so many ways! "Although, I know the pain he has caused you, myself…and your…your first wife."
Raoul looked over at me, silently agreeing with a nod of acknowledgement.
"Also," I forced his face to look at me, "he did not ruin my life. He did not," I searched for a term, settling on the one he had used for Christine, "he did not take a soul from me. If anything, he restored mine, or brought it about," I searched for a response from him, but received nothing! I smiled, desperate to get an answer from him.
"You must admit…I was rather soulless."
"No," he interrupted, "you were just…"
I laughed quietly. "Oh, don't try!"
Raoul smiled and walked back to the sofa.
After a second uncomfortable silence, I quickly worded my mind. "Now you know, Raoul…what are we to do? There is no way to explain this without revealing every single skeleton from the back closet. We absolutely can not do that."
"I actually considered this before," I raised my eyebrow, but he continued, "no, truly, I did!" He rose and began telling me his plans in a very business-like tone that surprised me. "I will liquidate my financial assets, we will take what we will need, and we will disappear. We will…leave."
"Leave!" I gasped, "Raoul, when did you last sleep? Have you drank anything today? Honestly!"
"I am serious," he answered back shortly, "I'm not sure if you read the newspaper articles, but, my dear, there is no possible way to explain anything." I did not bother to point out (as in any other situation, I would have) that that was exactly what I had just finished saying, I instead continued watching him, my eyebrows raised and my mouth open ready to interrupt. He continued in the business tone, "There was never once a portrait made of me, or us, or Victorie that was made into a print…we would never be recognized in America."
"America!"
"Well, you do not speak Swedish," he said, lightly joking.
I walked to him and stood directly in front of him and eyed him for a moment, ready to hear the real arrangement. But, none came.
"New York?"
"Boston."
"I absolutely can not travel now," I sighed, even my voice sounding weary. "We must wait at least two months."
Raoul nodded in understanding, and began to pace. "I had not taken that into account," he smiled for a moment, in excitement, but then quickly continued. "We shall rent a cottage…take advantage of the absence of my sister – who no doubt took an opportune moment to leave after receiving that telegram she did not pass on to me! – and move there for the time. And tell no one."
I sat on the sofa, and laughed, sarcastically. "And what will you do, deliver the baby yourself?"
"No," Raoul said, smiling back, "we shall make arrangements for that too."
My reunion with Victorie was a true out of body experience. Raoul and I planned what we were going to tell her very carefully. I told her I simply went to visit my family for a while, and upon her further questioning, I made an empty promise to one day meet my family in England.
I felt like I was in some ridiculous novel by the way we packed things so quickly and Raoul secured arrangements with his financial advisor while I remained upstairs – who was more then cautious before doing exactly as Raoul had said – and then rent arrangements at a cottage four miles down.
I kept catching myself smiling at the thought of an adventure.
We retired quite early that first evening, we spoke quietly confirming plans for the following day, and I reverted back to my usual ways of repeating things again and again in confirmation.
"I received a strange letter the other evening," he began, cutting me off from my worrying thoughts, changing the subject. "--requesting an interview."
"From whom?" I inquired, interested. "A columnist? Did you respond?"
"No, I did not. I figured it was concerning you…so, no, I did not respond. And," he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a letter, "it was from a…Monsieur Leroux. Gaston Leroux….do you know the name?"
"No," I said, shrugging.
"Well, he shall go unanswered then," he said quietly, dropping the letter in a waste paper basket.
"Which reminds me," I continued swiftly, not even hearing what Raoul had last said, "Have we packed the documents from the library? Our birth certificates and such. Oh! Will we change our names? Good Lord, I had not even thought of that…how strange!"
"Adelaide," Raoul interrupted, "it's all going to be fine." He reclined on the bed and looked at me for a moment, and I glanced up at him hesitantly. "Come here," he said softly, and like a child I put my head on his chest and sighed. I closed my eyes knowing that if I remained silent much longer I would simply fall asleep still fully dressed.
I don't know what made me ruin this peaceful moment by spitting out a question that had been plaguing me.
"You really never believed I killed myself?"
Raoul remained silent.
"Because, that's not to say…I don't blame you if you did! You had no other way of knowing."
Not a word.
"Raoul, ma chéri, s'il vous plaît parler."
He looked down at my face, solemnly and said, "There were times I believed it, and times I did not."
I let the words sit for a moment, feeling terribly uncomfortable, yet, I was grateful for his honesty.
"I knew you could not resist my French."
"Yes," he smiled, "neither could a grammar teacher. To correct it, that is."
I playfully slapped at him and shortly afterwards I fell silent, leaving Raoul to his thoughts.
"I am glad you have returned, darling."
I did not respond, allowing him to believe I was asleep and smiled in the darkness.
It was a glorious moment, and a perfect conclusion I thought, as I remained there for a time. If you had told me three years before that I would be married to a Viscount, with his child, and about to embark on an adventure to Boston, in America, I would have laughed at you and asked if you cared for another drink. That same evening, if you had instead of the previous, told me that I would be kidnapped by a masked man, feared by hundreds, and near-worshipped by my employer's wife…I would have outright insisted you were drunk and offer to call a cab for you.
And yet, there I was: in the arms of my aristocratic husband, who soon was going to throw away his title to journey with me, our child, and his to America. I lie with a man who I felt loved me, and whom I loved back…three years previously, that was more then I could have ever asked for not even including wealth and title. Also, I lie there a changed woman. For, the masked, insane man had also taught and shown so many aspects of life that I had either previously ignored or not seen. The final part was the sweetest of all, to me. To know I had brought both company and comfort to a victimized man in his final hours would forever remain one of my greatest deeds in life.
Well, all, it's been absolutely delightful writing for all of you…and thank you for your support while I was writing my first fan fiction story. I feel a bit silly now that it is all over, but, hopefully you enjoyed it.
If you did, fantastic. Hopefully I will be doing a sequel very soon, and hopefully you saw the hint/plot point I planted in this final chapter – the sequel pertains to that and will definatley be more light-hearted and not so angsty/melodramatic then this one has been. I've always danced with the idea of how Gaston Leroux interviewed Raoul. It's all fiction yes, yes, yes…but, you know you need to scratch that itch too!
If you did not like it, the story ends here and thank you for stopping by.
I would like to thank Catoftheopera, M'selle de Paris, catnipp, Lindaleriel, Stefynae, VictorianDream, White Time Ranger, makeyourselfduo, and lady kathrin for reviewing before my great disappearance. Then to MJ MOD, invaderoperaghost, jbwriter sometime when I finally started up again. Also, welcome to superexclamationgirl and I'm sorry you didn't like me killing off Erik, but, it just had to be!(! sorry, I just love your username too much. Bad joke, bad joke.) And finally to Misty Breyer (my role model in all things involving typing/writing) and Phruity who always knew what I was writing. You guys have made everything so fun for me and I always look forward to your reviews.
Adieu to some of you, and hopefully I'll see some of you soon!
