Chapter 33 Revelations

Pierre held the reins loosely in his hands as the horse steadily hauled the load towards the city. The creaking of the wagon and squeaking of the aged leather harness punctuated the night's silence. Huddled beside him was Jade who was sleeping soundly. It was three o'clock in the morning and they were heading to market.

He pulled his scarf tighter around his throat, and ignored the cold wind that had started to blow. After today, he'd be making the trip to market only every other week. That meant seeing Jade less often, unless he could persuade her to leave the opera house.

As he stared at the cloaked figure beside him, the violet scarf that wrapped her throat sprung out from the darkness. It was a rich emblem of his mother's regard. Its tasseled ends fell over her shoulders and clung to the cloak. He could still see his nephew presenting it to her. Michel had held it over her head, and reverently placed the thick woolen around Jade's shoulders. Her small hands had pressed, and smoothed it against the front of her body as she looked up at him with delight. Seizing his chance, Michel took a step closer, and stole a final moment with her. His coat lay open, and a fitful breeze brushed his chest, but it hadn't mattered. It could just as easily have been a warm summer day as he leaned towards her.

Pierre chuckled as he remembered the expression on his face. Moonstruck. Well lad, you can't have her. She's already spoken for.

Humming a tune, he shook off the cold. Life felt good and complete with the woman at his side. He listened to her soft even breathing that was uninterrupted by dreams, and smiled. Yesterday's conversation with Marie was nearly forgotten.

His sister had come to him in the orchard. Leaning on the fence, Marie had told him about Therèse's tête-à-tête with Jade. He held his temper, and listened, as he tried to understand her need to betray him. It was bad enough that his customers at the market were relentlessly pursuing him for marriage material for their daughters and nieces, but to have his sister-in-law trying to manipulate him as well? God only knew what that woman had said to Jade about him and Madeleine.

Something about lingering, unrequited love, he growled to himself.

A sigh, and a stirring signaled Jade's awakening. Pushing against him for a moment, she sat up.

"How far are we from Paris?" She asked sleepily, and yawned hard with her shoulders hunched to her ears.

"We're about halfway to the market place. In a little while we'll be arriving at the outlying villages," he answered mildly.

The cart's wheel hit a rut and the wagon tilted, slamming Jade against Pierre. He automatically reached out and steadied her.

"Thank you," she said sleepily as she leisurely pulled away. She tilted her head up, and scanned the sky.

Pierre looked up as well, and remarked, "It's a beautiful night. If you're hungry, my mother packed a basket for us. It's directly behind you under a blanket. Feel free to use the blanket as well if you're cold."

Turning around, she pulled the woven basket from the wagon bed, and fished through its contents. She took out bread and cheese, tore off hunks, and passed it to her friend. They ate without conversation, as they looked at the stars.

Between bites, Pierre hummed a song. When they'd finished their breakfast, he turned to her.

"Did you enjoy your visit to the country?" he asked kindly with twinkling eyes. Jade swallowed her last mouthful, and smiled.

"Yes, very much. Your family was very kind to me." She unwrapped the folds of violet bunched around her throat, and tightly rewound the soft scarf about her hood. Twisting its tassels between her fingers, she leaned forward, and brushed the crumbs from her cloak. The hood partially slipped back, and revealed thick hair that shined in the moonlight.

Pierre admired her pleasing profile. He softly asked, "Do you think you would enjoy living there?"

Glancing up at him, Jade straightened, and then looked solemnly into his eyes. Her hand slipped over his.

"Pierre, you are my dearest friend, and I would do anything to make you happy," she said with a quiet voice. Her eyes briefly wavered, and then returned to his with a resolute gaze.

"Do you remember the man I told you about that night that I was in your room? The one who left the letter for DuChant about my not returning to work too soon?" she asked gently.

Pierre blinked. "The man who watched over you when you were ill? Yes, I remember." His stomach had a sudden sinking feeling.

"We have become good friends. And recently, I've come to realize that I have other feelings for him as well." She paused, and studied his face with concern.

Ignoring the sadness that squeezed his heart, he set down the reins, and took her hands in his. "Jade, does he love you?" he asked with a grim expression.

"No Pierre. He does not," she stated flatly.

"Then why?" he abruptly shot back. Stiffening from agitation, he tightened his grip. "Jade, there are men who come to the opera house not for music, but to steal women's hearts. They take their pleasure and leave. Jacque DuChant told me that it's a frequent occurrence."

Disentangling her hand she reached up, and gently stroked his brow. "I know Pierre. I know. It's fine. Really, it is," she said with a soothing tone. She continued to stroke his hair as she'd done when he was ill. After a minute he became calmer.

Holding his hands, she continued. "My dear friend, I'm not a foolish girl. I know he doesn't love me. But he's not heartless. You see…"

Jade stopped, and looked steadily into his eyes. If anyone could understand this, it would be her friend.

"He's still in love with another, a woman who brought beauty to him, and then left him behind. He is lonely, Pierre. He can't help it if she still has his heart."

A startled look crossed Pierre's face, and his eyes sharply fixed on hers.

"Jade, I will always love Madeleine. But she is my past. It is you who I love now."

Reaching up, her fingers barely touched the side of his face in a slow caress.

"I know," she breathed softly, and looked at him with tender sadness. "You are a good man Pierre, with a true heart. You deserve a wife whose heart belongs only to you."

Their eyes locked for a long moment. And then it was finished. Jade turned away and Pierre grasped the reins.

After a minute, he quietly asked, "What will you do?"

She looked at the road ahead and the practical, countrywoman inside of her answered. "I'm drawn to him but it's not love. I'll watch my feelings, and maybe as time passes, they will lessen."

Watching her intently, Pierre saw her confidence falter as a haunted look entered her eyes.

" I won't love someone who can't love me," she said distantly.

For the rest of the trip they rode in silence.

Eventually, the lights of the Parisian suburbs appeared in the distance, as a prelude to the spectacular display that was to follow. They arrived before the dawn, just as the city was awakening, and returning to life. Pierre's market stall awaited him, and Jade would return to her work at the opera house.

As they said good-bye, she looked into his warm eyes, and knew that they were still good friends. That had not changed. But when Jade left the marketplace, her heart was heavier than it had been when she had rushed out of Paris to save him.

0000

Madame Truffaut moved briskly around the office, and occasionally dumped a pile of letters on Jade's desk. Now that her most competent assistant was back, she was loading her down with heaps of correspondence, as if the sheer weight of the paper mound would pin her to the chair and prevent future escapades to the country. DuChant had spoken to her about hiring a replacement, and relocating Jade to another less essential part of the opera house where her frequent absences would be less noticed. However, the steely Madame had held firm. She needed her, especially now when they were starting a new opera. She would not tolerate the disruption a new assistant would bring.

With her nose buried in paperwork, Jade forgot the look of pain on Pierre's face as she swam in the lake of details that Madame poured down on her. It was a relief to work hard. By lunch, she had demolished a quarter of the pile, and was ready to take on the rest.

Madame Truffaut stood rigidly in front of the desk, and scowled down at her. "Go to lunch now!" she said acerbically. "If you faint from hunger, you'll be no good to me."

Obeying her tyrannical custodian, Jade put on her cloak, and walked to the Opéra Café.

When she opened the door, the familiar noontime roar hit her. Moving in the direction of the children's table, she searched for Manette and the little ballerinas. The place was crammed with adults without a diminutive head in sight. She had arrived too late, and missed them.

Ordering a lunch to take with her, she returned to the management offices, and ate as she worked. She had promised to work the entire weekend to make up for her holiday with Pierre's family. And if she worked extra hours over the next couple of weeks, she'd receive a full wage for her time away. DuChant had offered to give her the difference without the extra work, but she'd refused. If she were treated as special it could sour things between her and the rest of the staff.

When they were finished for the day, she straightened her desk, and hurried out the office. She was eager to see the child, and had missed her very much. Jade hoped that she'd be able to speak with Manette tonight about arranging for Gillian to be with her on the cold winter nights. She had a plan on how to care for her, and was fairly certain that Manette would agree to it.

All that remains is to speak with Erik about our visits in my room. If he will agree to meet with me in another place then the entire matter will be settled, she thought hopefully.

Jade arrived at the classroom where the children were still practicing. Inside the large room, Manette and her students crowded around the tall window that emanated the sunset's rosy light. Gillian's thatch of white hair should have been bobbing amid the flock of tiny dancers, but she was truant.

Manette was on one knee as she retied the laces of one of her students when she glanced up and saw her friend standing in the door. Handing the children over to her assistant, Jade overheard her say to the young woman, "Take them to dinner. I will join you later." Then Manette walked smoothly towards Jade. Her normally bright smile was absent. Instead, there was a somber expression.

"Jade, I am glad to see that you are well and did not catch the fever from Pierre!"

Smiling, Jade took her outstretched hand and squeezed it. "Pierre's fever was only from a bad cut. There was no danger to me."

Before she could say anything else, Manette took her by the arm, and steered her to an empty room down the hall. Shutting the door behind them, she motioned Jade to a chair. Jade's eyes followed Manette as she carried another chair over to hers, and carefully set it down while she avoided looking at Jade.

Something is wrong.

Manette's sad eyes rested on her, and a chill ran up her spine. She braced herself for the bad news.

"I did not know if you were affected by the fever, so I was waiting to hear from you before I told you," Manette explained. She reached over, and took her friend's hands. "My dear Jade, Gillian has left Paris."

A sickening sense of alarm ran through Jade. Catching her breath, she stared unblinkingly at the woman.

Manette's brow knitted as she saw her friend's distress.

"A man who is a cousin of hers came here on Monday, and wanted to see Gillian. After he spent an hour with her, he spoke with M. DuChant, and requested that the child be released into his care. He had a letter from her aunt stating that the family agreed that he could take her. They left on the same day."

"Where did they go?" Jade whispered. Her tan had vanished and there was a sickly color in its place.

"I don't know, somewhere in France. DuChant told me that he was a former sailor who has been settled for several years now. He told DuChant that he was hoping to be married soon."

Jade stared blankly at Manette.

"He seemed very taken with the child. I think he was only curious about her until he met her. He told DuChant that he had come to Paris on business," she added lamely. Shifting in her chair, Manette gave Jade a helpless look.

"Business…" Jade replied faintly. Her eyes moved slowly across the small, windowless room. It's quite a useless room, she thought dully. Not big enough for lessons, or for dressing. What was the architect thinking when he put it here?

Suddenly, Jade stood up.

"Thank you for telling me the news, Manette," she said in a flat voice, without looking at her friend. "I must go now." The pasty color of her cheeks was changing to a rough red as if the shock of the news had scraped her skin bare. Turning on her heel, she hurriedly left the room.

Manette registered the rapid swish of Jade's skirt produced by her stiff and graceless exit. Sighing deeply, she silently prayed that the angels would watch over her friend, and heal her sorrow.

0000

A little later, Jade was in the stable, and brushing the black stallion's back. She reached down, and checked each hoof for stones. Then throwing a light saddle onto his back, she led the large horse out the stable doors as Rascon looked on. She had barely nodded to him when she rushed in a few minutes before, and he was watching her closely.

Hoisting her skirt up, and partially tucking it around her waist, she climbed onto the horse. Then she arranged her skirts so that they hung over the animal's back and sides. The broad coverlet of muted fabric formed an elegant drape, which gave her the air of a lady preparing for sport on her chosen steed. Sitting up straight, she held the reins firmly, and guided the dancing, high stepping horse to the path as he impatiently fought the restraint. She tightened her grip when he reared and pawed the air with excitement.

Jade teased his impatience until he was quivering with anticipation. When they cleared the buildings, she gave him his head, and swiftly dug her heels into his sides. Grabbing the bit, the stallion lunged forward with nostrils flaring, and tore down the path.

Twelve hundred pounds of horseflesh raced across the beaten ground, and kicked back a spray of earth. The sun had set and evening shadows crisscrossed their path, surrounding the scraps of remaining light. The black stallion sliced through the gray landscape as he reveled in his freedom. His strong muscles worked furiously in hard motions, like the pistons of an engine. Jade leaned further over his neck, and buried her face in his mane. Pressing him with her heels, she cried, "faster," and urged him on with her body.

Flicking his ears back to her voice, the stallion stretched out his neck and flew.

It was miles later when he finally had his fill, and slowed to a trot. As he played with the bit, froth dripped from his mouth, and fell onto his sweat soaked chest. His prancing ceased, and he settled into a walk.

The quarter moon stared brokenly at the horse and woman who blended into the shadows. When it was time to turn back, Jade listlessly sat upright, and gloomily guided the stallion home.

After entering the stable, she curried him, and gave him extra feed. Leaning against his dark side, she stroked his long, lean muscles. Then silently, she left for the back passage that led into the main building. Rascon watched her pass, and noted her straight, stiff figure. It looked as if an invisible wire from the sky was pulling her up.

A hollow puppet, he mused as he stood in the middle of the stable with his hands on his hips, and watched her disappear into the darkness. That's what I would feel like if I lost my son. Jean had given him the news of Gillian's departure the day before yesterday.

Ignoring those who she passed in the staff's quarters, Jade opened the door to her room, and stepped in. Kicking off her dirty, sweat stained skirt, she tore off the rest of her clothes, and stood naked in front of the mirror. The large bruise that she'd acquired while dancing in the woods earlier that week was losing its dark mix of purple and green, and was no longer sore. Indifferently donning a clean chemise, she wrapped the robe about herself, and extinguished the gaslight.

In the quiet darkness, she listened to her heart beating, and thought wretchedly that it was an unfortunate fact of life that the human heart beat on even when it was broken.

She couldn't sleep. Instead, her mind ticked away, and painted the life that would be ahead without the child: lonely, empty, and unfulfilled.

Stop being so selfish! she finally railed at herself. Gillian now had a home with a dependable parent who could take care of her—someone with enough income for a trip to Paris for business. And soon she'd have a mother, and maybe brothers and sisters.

Selfish thing. All you care about is seeing her again, her inner voice taunted.

Yes, she thought miserably. Turning onto her side, she clutched her knees to her chest, and cried.

0000

She had slept for an hour when a light touch on her shoulder awoke her. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw the yellow glow of candles reflecting off the wall that was inches from her face. Turning towards the table, Jade faced Erik's legs, which were seated in a chair beside her bed.

Blinking, she stared up at him for a few seconds before remembering where she was. For a moment, she'd thought they were back in the hayfield.

Silently she watched him. He was looking down at her with a serious expression that seemed a little sad. He was, as usual, in his evening dress, only his cape appeared to be new.

Go away Erik, she thought. Go away and leave me in peace.

When he didn't move, she finally sat up, and pressed her back to the headboard. Realizing that she must be a sight, Jade turned her head towards the wall, and smoothed her mussed up, dusty hair. She was a complete mess, but she didn't care. When he creeps up on me in my sleep he'd better not expect a rosebud.

"Jade."

His voice was quiet, melodious. The sound of her name on his lips was warm and tender, with the single syllable drawn out like a sigh. She turned her head a little, so she could watch him from the corner of her eye.

He hadn't moved, and was sitting with his legs uncrossed, as he leaned slightly forward. His hands rested quietly on his thighs. Beautiful hands, she pondered.

Focusing on those pale, long fingers, she thought of the hayfield and his tenderly protecting her from the cold. It would feel good to leave her bed, sit against him, and abandon her independence. He could soothe her with poetry as he held her, and she could give up this terrible loneliness. She could rest on his chest and for a few moments pretend that everything would turn out for the best. Even if he didn't love her, perhaps he could comfort her, just for tonight.

The white hands moved slightly in her direction, as if to touch her. Suddenly, she pulled back into herself. No, I won't let him touch me! she thought with agitation. It's not worth it. A moment's comfort won't make up for the pain that will follow.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, and leaned away from him.

There was a long sigh from his direction. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him.

Without a sound, Erik had moved his chair several feet away from the bed, and was watching her with an expressionless face. When he spoke, his voice was cool and distant.

"My dear, were you planning on spending the next week locked in your room as you recover from your affliction?" His left eyebrow lifted disdainfully.

Not him too, she growled to herself. Her life was a fiasco. In one day, she'd broken her dear friend's heart, lost the child that she loved, and had angered Erik as well. If Madame Truffaut and her office work hadn't existed, she would have gladly stayed in her room for the next week.

"Would you like to know how the child is faring?" Erik asked with a level tone.

In one quick motion Jade unfolded her arms, and faced him.

"Where is she?" she blurted out.

"Hush, my dear. Others will hear you," he warned with a touch of sarcasm.

Erik stared at her coolly for a few moments, and then began.

"After they left the opera house, the man and the child traveled by train to the port of Le Havre. From there, they took a carriage to a village five miles from the port. The man has a small house near the village, which he shares with a woman who is not yet his wife. Several members of the village say that they plan to marry soon."

He stopped, and his intelligent eyes raked her face, and recorded her reactions.

"Is he a kind man?" Jade asked quietly. She was perched on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap.

Shrugging slightly, he answered, " He works at the port each day, and people there say he's an amiable fellow. The child is wearing decent clothes, and appears to be doing well in her new home." Then his face resumed its inscrutable expression as he stared at her again.

She is safe, Jade ruminated with some relief. And so close! Perhaps I could visit her.

Glancing at Erik, she noted that he looked like a severe teacher who was dealing with an ungrateful student. She realized that sometime between Tuesday and today, Erik had discovered that the child was missing, and had hired someone to seek out her whereabouts, and gather information about her.

His benevolence touched her. Leaving her bed, Jade knelt down in front of him, and sat back on her heels. After looking into his eyes for a long moment, she said softly, "Thank you Erik".

It came to her that it was impossible to plan ahead and make rules when it came to this man. Life with him moved too quickly to follow a set and sure path. She simply had to react to what he presented at the moment, whether it be an act of kindness or a multitude of clever tricks.

She was again indebted to him.

Her gaze fell to his hands. She wanted to touch them, rest her cheek on them, and give in to his wishes.

Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. She couldn't tell what he was feeling. Was it protectiveness, satisfaction, lust?

"I hope that someday, I will be able to return your kindness, Erik." Then her eyes returned to his hands.

Jade stayed there until her legs became numb. When she tried to stand, her knees wobbled, and she inadvertently reached out to him. Suddenly, his strong arms were around her as he lifted her up. Setting her onto her feet, he held her around the waist, and swept the covers aside. Then he placed her onto the bed. After pulling the blankets over her, he tucked them in snuggly around her shoulders while she silently watched him with half closed eyes.

His mouth had softened, and his eyes were kind when he glanced at her. As his pale face bent over hers, her eyes traced the line of his black hair against his smooth forehead, which rose above the shadowy mask. She hoped that he might sit on the bed next to her, and read her a story like her mother used to do long ago. But there was no book, and the candles were burning low.

"Good-night Erik," she said softly when he turned away. He paused momentarily, as if he could hear her thoughts, and then left the room.

The candles were nearly spent. Waiting for the darkness to return, she shut her eyes, and fell asleep under the spell of the comforting glow.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Later, Erik propelled the boat through the damp cavern. The still lake placidly buoyed up the craft which skated across the surface.

Against the backdrop of darkness, he recalled his trip to Le Havre earlier in the week.

On returning to his home from the province, he was soon aware of the child's absence from the opera house. He quickly arranged that Jules hire a man to meet him in LeHavre, who would assist him in investigating M. Emile Noir, the so-called cousin of the child. They had quickly obtained the facts that Erik had related to Jade that evening.

What Erik had failed to mention to her, was an oddness about the situation that perplexed him. There was something about M. Noir's sudden interest in the child that was out of place, and bore watching. Erik had arranged for the investigator to send him weekly reports concerning the child's welfare.

If the little girl had been able to tolerate his presence, Erik would have stolen her away, and brought her to his home. But she was fragile, with too vivid of an imagination. The sight of her masked guardian would have terrified her. For now, he would simply follow her current situation, and wait.

On entering his home, he stood over his worktable, and reviewed the plan of the Russian mansion that was nearly complete. Adding the last detail, he rolled it up and laid it on a small table by the door with several other plans that he would give to Jules tomorrow.

He was tired and decided to retire early. Heading to his bedroom, he undid his cravat as he walked across the carpeted floors in stocking feet. He stopped in front of a chest of drawers, and examined his most recent acquisition which sat on top.

The man had done excellent work.

Picking it up, he carried it to the guest bedroom where he placed it on the dresser, and stepped back to gauge its effect. Its vibrant subject added a presence to the room.

As he prepared for bed, he thought of the state Jade had been in tonight. He had kept an eye on her throughout the day, waiting for the moment when she would realize that the child was gone. When she returned to her room from the stable, he was standing behind the mirror, and watching as she discarded the dirty skirts. The fact that she had not bothered to change into her stable clothes reflected the depth of her distress. The bruise on her side had startled him, and his fists had clenched as he eyed it.

Erik turned down the covers, and slid into bed. Folding his arms behind his head, he shut his eyes.

When she had cried in her room, he had stood restlessly by the mirror until she finally slept. He had never heard her cry before, and it pained him to hear her sobs. When she finally slept, he had opened the mirror and stepped in.

After lighting a few candles, he watched the rise and fall of her shoulders, and resisted the temptation to lie beside her, and hold her. As he listened to her breathing, he felt the slow thudding of his heart beat in harmony with its light rhythm. It was peaceful sitting beside her. Tenderly, he leaned over and touched her shoulder.

She turned to him and looked into his eyes. Her dream-like gaze captivated him. At that moment, if she had asked for his heart, he would have given it. Then he would have taken her away to a place where Christine would never find them, so that she could not reclaim that which he had taken back.

Suddenly, Jade wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, and pulled away from him.

Groaning in his sleep, Erik stood up in his dream, and reached for her.