A/N: So sorry it took so long to get another chapter up, but this one (and especially the one to come) are pivotal to story and took a lot of time to get just right. Unfortunately, the original chapter turned out much too long - with too many important things happening - so I split it. Fortunately, for you, that means the next chapter will be up very soon. :)
And now...
XXVIII
.
The eve of Christmas had come upon them, and Christine decided she must cease with postponing a visit to Montmarte. The previous day she had been much too worried for Erik's safety to leave the castle and the day before that, too weary from their journey home.
Erik was safe and Christine well rested. She no longer harbored excuses and would prefer a fresh change of clothing since there was no word yet from Berwickshire that her winter wardrobe had arrived from Paris.
With her husband again absent, nowhere to be found and likely attending to whatever business matters awaited him, Christine planned to set out alone for her great uncle's manor and asked Anton to drive her there. Once again she had slept late into the day, having enjoyed the night in her husband's arms, and wished to make her visit to Lucy and be back at the castle before darkness again fell.
As Anton walked with her to the closed conveyance, something occurred to Christine. "The gray horse in the stables – please tell Archer to tie him to the carriage. I should take him back to Montmarte." She had no wish to be construed as a thief, having always intended to make arrangements to return her uncle's horse.
"That is not necessary, my lady. The Master's instructions upon your return were to go to Montmarte with money to purchase the beast that I found wandering outside the castle after you left for Paris."
"Purchase?" she stared at him in astonishment. "The Count bought Mist? The horse?" she clarified when he glanced at her oddly.
"Yes, Mistress, he did." Anton glanced up at the sky. "If it is your wish to return before nightfall, we should leave."
Christine followed his gaze upward, noting the heavy cloudbank that permitted daylight to shine through but not the sun, making it impossible to tell the time of day. "Yes, alright." Gathering her tumbled thoughts, she took a seat inside, bringing them forth again for review once the carriage was in transit.
Erik had purchased Mist. Why, when he had his black stallion and the two horses used for pulling this carriage and the wagon the servants used for chores? He certainly had no need for another horse, though she was grateful to learn Mist had been found and was well cared for.
At Montmarte's door she almost changed her mind and told Anton to retrace the route home. The first and last time she'd stood on this stoop waiting to be admitted, she had felt as inconsequential as a drowned rat – and looked the part. A poor relation, sodden from the abrupt rainstorm. Waiting once more for the butler to admit her, Christine nervously wondered what sort of reception she would receive this time. She had slipped away in the night, little more than a runaway horse thief, and returned to its doors as Countess to one of the wealthiest men in the country. She had never been one to covet a wealthy patron as so many girls in the chorus did, Christine always desiring to achieve a relationship founded on love. However, she had quickly learned that such principles as one's status mattered to the majority of the populace, in Paris and in Berwickshire, and likely everywhere else.
From Little Miss Nobody to titled countess – Erik's Countess …
The burst of confidence and little wondering smile at the thought faded upon seeing Thorsten, the butler, his expression just as disapproving and surly as it had been the first day she dared to stand on this threshold.
The unsavory man looked her up and down. "My lady." He offered as slight a bow as could be managed to satisfy courtesy and opened the door wider to admit her as if he would prefer not to but had no choice. "The Vicomte said to expect you. I will inform him of your arrival."
"Actually," she hastened to say, not wishing to be confronted with Raoul's absurd persuasions the moment she stepped foot indoors, "I should like to see Lucy. Is she in her room?" She posed the question as she strode toward the stairs.
"She is, but you may not visit. The physician is presently with her."
This stopped Christine in her tracks and she turned to look at him. "Physician?"
"Yes, miss. His second visit."
"Is she very ill then?"
Thorsten hesitated, and Christine wondered if he was under strict orders not to divulge too much information. "The earl will disclose to you what he wishes to be revealed," he sniffed. "You may wait in the parlor."
She had no intention to be shuffled to the side and dealt with on her great uncle's whim. "Thank you, no. I came to collect my things. I shall be upstairs."
Christine mounted the steps, a bit astonished when Thorsten said nothing more to prevent her progress. A curious glance over her shoulder made her think by his expression that he appeared almost relieved that she had taken the matter out of his hands. A strange thought, but she couldn't shake it.
Upstairs, she stared at the faded, heather-sprigged walls of the room she once inhabited then moved to the cupboard and retrieved her carpetbag, setting it on the bed. At the sight of her clean black silk day dress with its smattering of red flowers, she decided not to wait a second longer and changed out of what she wore into fresh attire. Inhaling deeply, she appreciated the calming lavender scent that came from the cloth and pulled the medallion free to drop against her bodice, the chain resting around the high ruffed collar. Hardly a statement of fashion, the amulet was really quite ugly, but she had made a promise to Erik to wear it outside the castle.
Once dressed, Christine recalled the button and searched the top of the small bureau for the last place remembered where she put it, but without success. Opening the wardrobe, she cast a withering glance toward her aunt's journal and searched the bottom of the cupboard.
Behind her the door opened, followed by a sharp gasp.
"Beggin' pardon. I heard a noise, but didn't realize you was here."
Christine looked over her shoulder to see the maid back away into the corridor. "Daisy – wait!" She straightened from where she knelt. "I should like to speak with you."
"Yes, miss? Er, my lady?"
Christine smiled, hoping to put the girl at ease. "There was a button, I think, in the shape of a bone, about this size…" She held her thumb and index finger a short distance apart. "I cannot seem to find it."
"Sorry, I haven't seen it."
Before Daisy could duck back out the door, Christine hurried to say, "Please, can you tell me what ails my cousin? I understand the doctor is in to see her." She doubted she would get any information from her uncle, and to track down Raoul might mean to open herself up to further demeaning remarks with regard to her decision to marry Erik. The servants were privy to almost everything that happened inside a household and often knew things others did not.
"I really shouldn't say, miss. I wouldn't want to get in trouble."
Christine approached Daisy where she still stood by the door as if ready to bolt. "What you say will remain between us," she said softly. "Lucy is family, and if she is ill, I wish to know it."
Still clearly anxious, Daisy gave a short nod. "One of the servants overheard the doctor tell the earl that Lucy has been…violated."
"Violated?" Christine frowned at the horrific implication of the whispered word.
"Yes, my lady. It was the word he used though I'm not sure of its meaning."
"But who would do such a thing?!"
"Don't know, miss. The Vicomte found her in the maze last night and brought her back indoors then sent a servant to collect a doctor in the next township, since we have none." She looked behind to the partially open door as if afraid she might be overheard. "That's all I know. I must get back to my duties before Mrs. Higgins comes looking for me."
"Yes, of course." Christine was still reeling from the wretched information that Lucy had been harmed and that she had again visited the maze in the night. "Thank you, Daisy."
The girl gave another nervous nod and left.
Perhaps, had Christine never fled from Montmarte, this would not have happened...
A sense of guilt and the need to know more, to see for herself that Lucy was as well as one could be after suffering such hardship, drove her down the corridor and to the wing of the girl's room. Outside its doors she saw Raoul in deep discussion with a stout, white-haired gentleman. As she drew close, she overheard what they said.
"…some elaborate hoax –" the stranger said gruffly with a slight brogue.
"I assure you, Doctor, no hoax was involved. You saw her wounds. You, yourself, bound them up last night!"
"Had they been actual wounds, they would no' have disappeared as if never there. The body does not heal that quickly." He harrumphed. "No, by the inferior lamplight I must have been fooled into believing something more was amiss."
"Do you accuse me of perpetrating a hoax, sir?!"
"No, my lord, you misunderstood. Perhaps one of the servants, having heard the wild talk in the village, was up to some mischief –"
"Our servants have better things to do with their time than to instigate ridiculous pranks! Perhaps, as you believe yourself to have erred in what you treated, you were mistaken in your other assessment as well."
"She is most certainly anemic and fatigued, in all likelihood a victim of Neurasthenia, but there are aspects of her condition that I have never seen in my thirty-eight years as a physician. I have consulted a colleague by telegram to gain his opinion. He has agreed to take a train to Berwickshire and will be arriving tomorrow…" He broke off on catching sight of Christine hovering a short distance away, and Raoul turned to look.
"Christine! Thank God you are here." Raoul held his hand out as an invitation to join them and turned back to the physician. "Dr. MacGrady, my cousin Christine Daaé."
Raoul was clearly rattled by the circumstances concerning Lucy, and Christine forgave him his error as she closed the distance.
"My cousin forgets my recent wedded state – I am, in fact, the Countess cel Tradat. Can you please tell me what has happened with Lucy?"
"My lady," He nodded his head in a stiff but polite bow. "I will leave the Vicomte to inform you of all you wish to know. I must speak with the earl before I depart for the village. Good evening," he said to them both and quickly took his leave.
"Raoul?" Christine queried once the doctor bustled away.
His manner was grim. "Lucy was attacked last night."
Christine winced at the words, reaffirming what Daisy told her.
"Did you see it?"
"I found her in the clearing of the maze, laid out on the bench there. The monster was on top of her…" His words trailed off, and he hesitated with what to say. "Forgive me. This is unfit for a lady's ears."
She blew out a frustrated breath. "I am a married woman, Raoul. I won't be scandalized and I want to know what happened."
His lips compressed at her words. "Her nightdress was hiked up, and it has since become evident that the fiend had his way with her!"
Christine closed her eyes at the horror of Lucy's travail.
"But he was no man – she was bitten! I know she was…" He spoke, as if arguing with himself. Suddenly he moved, striding into their cousin's room.
Christine followed, shocked by her first sight of Lucy. In the light of the lamp by her bedside, she lay with eyes closed, perhaps sleeping. Her face was as pale as death with dark smudges beneath her eyes, her hair a wild tangled mass of white-gold on her pillow. An unraveled and untidy pile of white linen, clearly a discarded bandage, lay nearby.
Christine followed Raoul to the bedside, watching curiously as he bent to inspect the girl's neck and pushed aside a thick lock of her hair to do so. The touch of his fingers brought Lucy's eyes wide open and she screamed. Raoul took a hasty step backward in retreat, almost knocking the oil lamp off the table.
"Lucy – it's alright. It's only me."
The girl did not respond but warily eyed Raoul then Christine. Her eyes abruptly dropped to the medallion and widened.
"Get away from me," she demanded hoarsely, digging her head deep into the pillow as if to seek escape through linen and feathers, and Christine realized, as bizarre as it sounded, the ugly medallion appeared to frighten her eccentric young cousin.
With the neck of her dress too high to tuck the amulet safely away, Christine clutched the disc, keeping it out of the girl's sight. Clearly, after her traumatic experience, Lucy was more addled than she normally was, and Christine had no wish to add to her distress.
"I heard you haven't been feeling well," she said tactfully, in as soothing a voice as she could manage. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"The light is too bright," Lucy complained, putting her sleeve over her eyes. "It hurts."
Christine swiftly moved to turn the flame down to a more gentle glow. "Is that better?"
Lucy moved her arm away from her face but stared straight ahead and gave no reply. Christine felt her own arm grabbed as Raoul pulled her back and quietly spoke near her ear.
"Do you see now? It is as I have said."
"What is?" she replied, also beneath her breath.
"The attacks. The manner in which they occurred. The wound on her neck – two puncture holes, a mark that fangs would make."
Christine immediately saw where this was going and had no wish to be taken there.
"I heard the doctor say that the wounds disappeared," she argued beneath her breath. "It is likely you imagined them or they weren't as bad as you first thought."
"But to leave no trace at all?" he scoffed. "The doctor bound them so did see them. And he was correct to say that wounds don't just disappear within a day's time so as to be invisible."
"Perhaps he was also correct that the lighting was too dim to tell properly. It is rather difficult to see with the lamp turned down like it is –"
"That's another thing," Raoul insisted, "her intolerance to the light. Victims of a vampyre cannot endure strong light."
"There is nothing preternatural about a simple headache, Raoul. But perhaps we shouldn't be holding this discussion in her presence." He spoke quietly but surely could be heard by the patient who rested only a few feet away.
He seemed somewhat chastened by her remark as he glanced in the girl's direction and back again – and Christine understood how easy it was to forget that Lucy did indeed understand and absorb conversation around her when she so often did little to contribute to its progression.
"I should speak with Uncle," Raoul said suddenly. "He has not taken the news well. I hope to have a moment with you again before you leave."
At the intent question in his eyes, Christine gave a halfhearted nod. Once he exited the chamber she turned her attention back to Lucy.
Raoul's tiresome persuasions troubled her more than usual, and she attributed her unease to Lucy's horrid condition coupled with a sense of guilt for leaving Montmarte, though there had been little choice at the time. But she had known of Lucy's nocturnal forays into the maze and told no one, trusting her addlepated cousin at her word, a promise that Christine had extracted from Lucy to abstain from further visits there. She should have known better. Her cousin simply did not exist within this realm to understand its hidden dangers.
"Please…"
At the soft, almost desperate query coming from the bed, Christine stepped forward.
"Is there anything I can get for you, dear? Perhaps a cup of tea? Do you wish me to call for the maid?"
"I want him," Lucy stated quietly, a sad plea in her crystal blue eyes.
"Him?" Christine shook her head in confusion and glanced toward the door, noting for the first time that Lucy's pup lay on the floor on the opposite side of the room, his shaggy head dejectedly resting on his paws. "You would like for me to call Raoul back? Or perhaps you want your dog?"
Lucy grabbed Christine's wrist hard, and in surprise she brought her attention back to the girl.
"I wish for the dark faerie to come. He won't, unless I invite him inside."
Christine smothered a weary sigh to hear her cousin once again immersed in her fairytale land of warped reality, unable to see the truth for what it was. What had happened to Lucy was obviously very real, as was the scoundrel whom Lucy erroneously thought one of the dark fae.
"I need him," Lucy continued plaintively, "and he needs me."
Christine sank slowly to the edge of the bed, Lucy never releasing her desperate hold. The girl was so pale and thin, clearly ill, the bloom in her cheeks absent, even her usually pink lips without color to them. Though she was a year younger, her condition made her look almost two decades older. Gaunt and frail...
"I think this dark faerie you have been seeing is a danger to you."
"No." Lucy briskly shook her head. "He wants to bring me into his world. A happy place, where we will forever dance and play. And I want to go be with him."
Christine winced at so troubling a thought. "He persuades you to leave the safety of the manor in the dead of night, barely dressed, to meet with him in the midst of the maze. That is hardly a game, Lucy, and quite unseemly."
"It is the only way we can see each other. Father would never allow us to..." Her words trailed off as her mind seemed to do also. Suddenly she looked straight at Christine. "Please, let me go. I must find my dark faerie."
Unnerved by the girl's soulful words, Christine looked askance, to the bedside table and the wadding of linen spotted with red. Her mind was slow to pick up on what she observed, and when she did make sense of it, she whipped her gaze from the discarded bandage to both sides of Lucy's neck, Lucy's shifting around having laid it bare. Neither side was marred with so much as a scratch.
"Please!" Lucy's protestations became almost violent as she dug the fingers of her other hand deep into Christine's sleeve, hard enough to bruise. "Help me to find him."
"Lucy!" Christine tried to wrench her arm free but her cousin held fast. "Let go. You're hurting me."
Lucy's nails dug in deeper. "I need him. Don't you understand?" Her words were stronger, insistent, almost hateful. "He said everyone would try to stop us from being together – he was right! You must let me go to him! I can hear him calling me!"
"Lucy – stop it!"
Christine struggled to wrest herself loose, grabbing Lucy's claw-like grip and forcing her to pull back finger by stiff finger. In their tussle, the medallion again swung free, glinting in the low lamplight.
Lucy hissed and let go, swiftly recoiling her body and averting her face, as if suddenly afraid.
"Lucy…?" Christine rubbed her arm, feeling adrift at the abrupt change in her cousin from violent aggressor to anxious victim. "Whatever is the matter with you?"
"I don't like that," she answered, between a whimper and a growl. "Neither will he."
"He?"
"The dark faerie."
So, they were to remain fixed in tales of pretense, and yet, this figment of Lucy's imagination was truly flesh and blood. A snippet of fantasy could not rob a girl of her virtue. Though with Lucy's frenzied pleas to find him, perhaps she had given herself freely. But she was too young and far too confused of mind to make such a life-altering decision. What monster would take advantage of her youth and naiveté to manipulate her in such a foul manner?
Christine thought back to the bone button she'd found in the maze and its match, in Archer's care…
Which led to thoughts of the fiend to whom they belonged.
No…
At the terrible idea that crossed her mind, she said almost breathless, "I'm sorry you don't like my medallion; it was a gift from my husband. But tell me, Lucy, do you know the name of your dark faerie?"
"You're a countess now – Daisy said so!"
Christine blinked, at a loss. "I don't see what that has to do with this."
"You can force Papa to let me see him!"
"I highly doubt, even if your father were to consent to my request, that to present your wishes to him in such a manner would give you the results you desire," Christine scoffed. "But why would you even want to see your dark faerie? Did he not harm you?"
"No – he loves me! And I love him! I belong to him! He's calling to me - and I must go!" Lucy scrambled up onto hands and knees, as if she might vault off the bed like a wild animal. "You cannot prevent me from being with him - no one can!"
Christine had never heard her cousin so lucid with words for so prolonged a time. Nor had she ever seen her behave so wildly out of control. From the distant corner, Topsy whined then barked.
"Lucy – please! Calm yourself."
The dog continued barking as Lucy crouched with her tangled hair hanging in her face and clutched the coverlet beneath her hands into tight fists, her eyes lunatic. Before Christine could form another appeal, Lucy sprang off the bed and pushed Christine hard, knocking her into the wall. Christine regained her balance and hurried into the corridor after her, the dog whimpering and running past her skirts in the opposite direction.
"Lucy!"
Before the deranged girl could reach the stairwell, one of the earl's men, Jason, appeared around the corner and grabbed her by the waist, preventing her frantic escape and slinging her over his shoulder. He took her kicking and screaming back to the bed, holding her down by the arms when she gnashed her teeth and flailed her body in attempt after attempt to bolt off the mattress.
Christine hurried to the bell pull to summon a servant. Daisy appeared within moments, her eyes wide to witness Lucy's struggle not to be contained. Her nightdress had ridden up bare legs from her kicking out at her captor, and her neckline was dislodged, exposing one small shoulder and half a breast.
"Daisy, is the doctor still here?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Fetch him quickly!"
The maid scurried away while Christine lingered, motionless with shock and helpless with what to do. She did not have the brawn to even attempt to help hold her mad cousin down.
"Let me go!" Lucy screamed in between frustrated whimpers and harsh curses Christine never thought to hear from one so childlike.
"I canna do that, Miss Lucy," Jason grunted, even with his thick bulk the Scotsman finding it difficult to keep her restrained as much as she writhed and kicked out. "Not since you took to opening third-floor windows at night. Your Papa says you're not t' leave this room."
Christine glanced toward the turret windows with all four sides fixed in stone so they couldn't be dislodged. Had Lucy slipped into a different room to seek escape? Was she so desperate to meet with her dark faerie that she would attempt the hazardous feat of climbing out of a high window into the winter night?
But the question uppermost in mind - was Erik's nemesis and Christine's attacker – Nicolae – Lucy's dark faerie?
Everything became a blur as the earl, followed by the doctor then Raoul, swept into the room. Raoul immediately went to the opposite side of the bed to help hold Lucy down while the doctor scrambled inside his black bag. The earl caught sight of Christine and moved toward her.
"You should go."
Christine had not expected him be pleased to see her after their last angry confrontation on the morning of her wedding, but she didn't anticipate his outward rejection of her presence either.
"I wanted to see how my cousin was faring. Now that I have seen, perhaps I should stay the night."
The idea was distasteful. She had no desire to be away from her husband any longer than necessary, and unless he had returned to the castle, Erik didn't even know she was at Montmarte. Yet she felt responsible for Lucy's condition and could send word so he wouldn't worry.
"As you can see, this isn't a suitable time for a visit," her uncle said distantly. "I have servants to care for my daughter. You should return to the castle. It is the best place for you."
An uncomfortable twinge traveled Christine's spine at the parroted words she'd first heard her uncle repeat after Erik on the morning the earl discovered her at the castle. Anything she might have replied was lost as the doctor moved to Lucy's side, bearing a vial of some dark liquid.
"What is that you intend to give my daughter?" the earl demanded, stepping toward him, Christine forgotten.
"Chloral hydrate, my lord," the doctor grumbled, clearly not thrilled to have his actions called into question. "A syrup that will put her to sleep."
The earl frowned but nodded his permission, and Christine watched while both Raoul and Jason did their best to hold Lucy down, Raoul squeezing Lucy's jaw to force her mouth open as the doctor tilted the vial between her pursed lips.
Christine could no longer bear to hear Lucy's gurgled protests and whimpers as she was forced to submit. Turning away from the harrowing sight, she left the room.
She cared for the disturbed girl, and in part felt she should stay; but she had been summarily dismissed and wanted nothing more than to leave. With the doctor's potion, Lucy would sleep, and though her cousin's actions had been quite bewildering – utterly troubling – Christine agreed it would be best if she maintain her distance for the present.
A swift detour to collect her carpetbag she quickly packed with the remainder of her belongings and she was taking the flight of stairs downward, eager to return to Castle Dragan and to Erik. Raoul caught up with her before she made it out the front door.
"Christine, one moment if you will."
Biting back a curse, she swung around. "Raoul, I have no desire to take up our earlier conversation. I am weary of all of it and wish only to return home before it grows dark."
"It's too late for that," he said as she swung open the door and saw that he was right. The gray light of day had dimmed and was on its final downward pinnacle, but to her shock, she noticed flurries of white in the air, patches of it having collected on the ground. The snow, which had given her such joy in Paris, now she could only give a passing thought, her mind too laden with distress over her visit.
"I don't wish to trouble your day further," Raoul amended, his tone contrite. "Though it might reassure you to know that the sedative the doctor administered will ensure Lucy sleeps the entire night and likely on through the morning."
She gave a tight smile, relieved to know that her young cousin had calmed even if unaware of the improvement.
"We can speak about what happened another time, Christine, but as I will not see you tomorrow, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to wish you a Happy Christmas."
With the day's worrisome events, the greeting seemed somehow misplaced; still, Christine clung to its normalcy and hope.
"A Joyeux Noël to you, Raoul." She returned his warm hug of goodwill. He took the bag from her and escorted her to the closed carriage to which Anton had mysteriously returned and sat ready on the driver's seat. Raoul gave her a hand up the stair-step into the carriage and placed her bag on the floor at her feet while she tucked the fur lap robe around her waist. Before he could close the door and go, Christine leaned forward and clutched his sleeve.
"Promise to keep me apprised of Lucy's condition and send word when I may again come visit."
"Of course." The pat he gave her hand only mildly reassured.
Their farewells made, the carriage retraced its route to the castle through the thick forest, what should have taken no more than a quarter hour at most, and would have…
…had Christine not heard a man scream.
xXx
A/N: Yes, I know. No Erik, and a lot of Raoul - sorry! But I didn't want to gloss over her visit to Montmarte, and you'll see plenty of the masked Count next chapter, which is finished and will be up this coming weekend - just want to go over it a couple thousand more times until I'm sure it's ready. haha - (it's one of those I've been waiting to write since the story's beginning.) ...oh, and one last thing - though I did say that this doesn't truly follow the Dracula story, that doesn't mean it won't have borrowed aspects from the tale... enough said. And thank you for the reviews! :)