Nicole Lambussy quietly walked into the small, but comfortable sitting room on the east wing of Chateau de Chagny. It was starving cold there at this time of day, and in this season. She started to light a fire knowing, or rather hoping, the Comtesse would soon return and would no doubt be frozen to the bone. She looked outside, hoping to see the first rays of sunlight, but to no avail. Today would be another somber day with no help from mother nature to help warm the otherwise chilled chambers in the Comtesse's quarters. It had been a most logical and clever decision from the new Vicomte to place her in these quarters, she thought.
"If the cold won't drive her out in time, she will surely be ill and die of the humid atmosphere, you bastard!" She had softly whispered it about the room, and was scared out of her wits to receive a reply.
"I take it then, you and the Vicomte are not the best of friends, ma chère?"
The voice was dark and cold, with a razor-sharp sarcasm drowned in it. The anger however, seemed to be directed more to the subject of her thoughts, as to herself. She pulled her shawl closer around her, as she turned around to face whomever it was had addressed her. From the shadows of the room she noticed a tall man, impeccably dressed, studying her every move and reaction as he slowly approached her. As he stepped into the light of the fire, she saw it. The elegant mask, covering half his face. Could it be? She had overheard the arguments between the Vicomte -God bless him- and his wife, speaking of the masked figure who used to haunt the Opera House. Could they be the same?
"You are...?" It sounded more as a demand than a question.
"Nicole, Monsieur. Servant to Madame de Chagny, Monsieur." She quickly curtsied and turned her eyes to the ground, fearful of his stare.
"Madame? So, Monsieur Vicomte has even stripped her of her title."
Nicole quietly shook her head. "It was Madame's decision, Monsieur. She requested me to address her as Madame de Chagny after her husband had died. She said she had never felt to have deserved the title in any case, Monsieur."
Wandering through the room, he seemed hardly to listen at all. "Would you be able to tell me, Nicole, where I might find Madame de Chagny at this Godforsaken hour? She seems not to be in her bed."
Nicole was shocked at the thought that the gentleman had obviously entered the lady's chambers, but decided it safer not to enquire.
"There is only one possible place she could have gone, Monsieur. The cemetary. I trust she will have returned in an hour or so for breakfast."
A sad grin appeared on his face. "Why would a lady so adverse to feeding herself have any interest in returning for breakfast, Nicole?"
She knew he was right. "I don't know Monsieur...I suppose each day I simply hope for her to wake from her nightmares and return to her usual ways..."
He suddenly seemed hasted, pacing about quicker until he stopped quite abruptly right in front of her, lifting her chin to observe her fervently. She thought she would faint under his stare, but suddenly she saw his eyes turn warm, content with what he saw.
"Fool that I am I have taken it upon me to help her do just that. It will however require Madame to leave Paris, leave France entirely. And at the shortest term possible."
Nicole held her breath, then nodded. "I will start packing her belongings if you wish it, Monsieur."
He shook his head. "Clean sleets Nicole, we will be burning all ships. Anything that reminds her of her days here, will stay here."
He was about to turn when she softly touched his arm. "Monsieur...what of Mademoiselle Céline, Monsieur? He turned around at her, and she could tell he had no idea what she was referring to.
"Madame's daughter, Monsieur?"
It was as if he fell through thin ice, the cold waters below piercing his heart.
"I was informed the Vicomte had no heir?"
"Not a boy, Monsieur, thus no heir to his title. But Madame bore him a girl three years ago."
His mind was racing, he could not possibly force Christine to leave without her only child but the thought of bringing her, HIS child, was more than he could bare. He looked back at Nicole.
"Have you ever traveled abroad Nicole?"
Surprised, she shook her head. "Ma non Monsieur, I have never traveled further than from Paris to this estate!"
"If you will, you may accompany Madame de Chagny to her new home. I will need all my energy for her, I cannot spare time for an infant!" He had spat out the word, as if the very thought of bringing the child revolted him.
Nicole quickly decided. "I love the child...and Madame de Chagny, Monsieur. It would be my honour to continue my service with her."
"With ME, then." he corrected her. "Very well, pack whatever you may require for the journey...and the child. Quickly. I will send my man to you with my carriage. Expect to leave within the hour."
He had already turned to leave, but returned just as quickly.
"And not a word to anyone!" Nicole quickly shook her head, petrified by his sudden rage, curtsied and quickly went to work.
The snow at the cemetary had only been treaded by one, at such an early time. His large footsteps covered the smaller ones he was following, even though he knew exactly where they would lead. The place where her heart lay, where he himself had shed blood for her by the hand of that arrogant fool! She had his child...SHE HAD HIS CHILD! The thought was tormenting him.
"Of course, you idiot! What had you expected? De Chagny marrying her and then leaving her peacefully in her innocent state?"
He grinned, the fool had of course wanted and heir, but received none. How Christine must have suffered for it! He slowed his pace when he heard a trembling, whispering voice not far from him. A horse quietly walked about on the spot where its mistress had left it. He could see the Daaé tomb ahead and in front of it a small dark figure.
Quietly he approached, as her mumbled prayers became clearer to him. "Father I have come to beg forgiveness of my trespasses, forgive me my wickedness, forgive me my dark thoughts, forgive the betrayal of my husband, forgive the betrayal of my guardian, I beg you return my Angels to me. Give me peace of mind, take away my nightmares, show me your mercy, guide me through my darkness, give me my Angels again or let death come as a friend."
He felt rage and pity attack him simultaneously. "You would leave your dear child to herself then, to wander the world in fear without her mother's guidance?" A fate he himself knew all too well and would never wish upon another!
He noticed her stiffening to her very core. Her breath became troubled, as if choking, as she slowly stood up. He could now see the change in her. Her frame was even more petite as he had remembered it, her chestnut curls, once so happily ordaining her blushing face, tied back in a braided knot.
"This is a dream, this is not real, you cannot be real, this is all a dream, you must wake up Christine!" he heard her whisper.
"Why so silent, ma Comtesse? Did you think that I had left you for good?"
His whispered voice brought a sob from her throat, as she started turning around at him. Her eyes were red and weary, shooting from one side to the other like a cat driven into a narrow street. Her once rose cheeks were pale and it was obvious indeed that she had not enjoyed a proper meal for some time. A pearl of sweat lay on her brow and she shivered top to toe, indicating to him she was already running a fever. Combined with her difficult breathing he concluded she must have caught a severe case of pneumonia. How could it be otherwise! No food, no rest, wandering about in the freezing cold and damp!
Slowly he walked towards her, as she continued her feverish whispers. "You are dead... you died that night...from the fire...Raoul told me so...you cannot be here!"
He brought his face so close to hers she could feel his warm breath upon her skin.
"I assure you, Madame de Chagny, I am very much alive. Unfortunately for your dearly departed husband, I am not so easy to kill. How can I die, when neither heaven nor hell will have me?"
His last words were hissed in such rage, that she could no longer support herself. She stumbled away but two paces before fainting...