Chapter 4: A Trip to Mazandaran
[featuring "Motion Sickness" and "Erik Flexes HIs House, Part 1"]
The doctor approved Christine's removal to the North Shore but advised abundant rest upon her arrival to Erik's estate. The day's journey would be tiring to anybody, but especially to a woman who'd recently danced with death.
The hope of the surprise occupied Christine's thoughts in her long hours of solitude. Everyone knew where she was going, but everyone refused to tell her anything. Each day, Gustave sat on the end of his mother's bed with a cheeky grin, bragging that Mr. Y had sworn him to secrecy. Madame Giry had been in the room yesterday to pack Christine's trunk and had gruffly ignored each of Christine's sly requests for details. Though she had no information to go off of, Christine guessed her Angel was taking her to a fantastic property of his.
"Oh, you ruined the surprise!" her Angel said glumly. He folded his arms across his chest and pouted. Christine, however, giggled and clapped her hands delightedly.
"I have no doubt I'll still be in awe of the whole thing," she said to assuage his disappointment. Her Angel was a genius in many fields, and when he'd informed Christine he'd designed the manor himself, she knew the estate was bound to be stunning.
Christine couldn't sleep the night before their departure. After their brief conversation that morning, her Angel and Ayesha had left by train to ready the estate for the arrival of their guests. Christine had begged him for more details, but his malformed lips were sealed. He only promised his estate would be unlike anything she'd ever seen.
In the morning, Christine regretted she hadn't tried harder to fall asleep last night. She whined when Madame Giry flung open the curtains, finally allowing sunlight into the cave she'd called her bedroom since her arrival in Phantasma. The old woman helped Christine stumble out of bed and dress in day clothes for the first time in weeks.
"Perhaps I ought to notify Mr. Y that we need to delay the journey," Madame Giry said when Christine collapsed on her bed under the weight of her dress. Being shot in the stomach was not good for her delicate constitution.
"I'm fine. Will you help me with my boots?" Christine asked as she extended her stockinged feet toward the ex-ballet mistress.
Madame Giry nodded and knelt down to help Christine's dainty feet into her shoes. Luckily, Christine had no hair to style, so that saved time and energy. Madame Giry placed a hat on Christine's shorn head, and the vicomtesse was ready to leave. Christine excitedly bounced down to the hotel's lobby on the supportive arm of Madame Giry, elated that it would be the last time she set foot in the prison of her hotel room.
The carriage ride to the train station was pleasant enough, but the train itself was something else entirely, even in a luxurious private compartment. The rocking motion of the rickety train gave Christine nausea. She rested her pale cheek on Gustave's nervous shoulder while the Girys looked at the sickly woman in fear.
"What made that man think this was a good idea…" muttered Madame Giry.
Christine was relieved when she alighted from the train, but the smoggy air of the station was an unwelcome alternative.
"We have to take another train!" she moaned when the news was shared with her. Gustave and Meg tightened their grip on Christine's waist while Madame Giry hunted for a place to sit. She walked up to a group of men on a bench.
"Hello, there!" her deep voice boomed. "That woman over there is with child. Which of you will give up your seat?"
It was a blatant lie, but the story was more believable than "that woman over there has been shot." Either way, one look at the sickly woman was enough for each of the men to sacrifice their seat on the bench. No one wanted to be responsible for the collapse of an ailing expectant mother. Madame Giry waved to Meg and Gustave, and the pair escorted the swaying Christine to the recently vacated bench. Her three companions sat beside her and waited for their next train.
The second train ride was longer than the first, and Christine dozed on Gustave's shoulder. He was pleased his weak mother had fallen asleep but was terrified she'd wake up before the end of the journey and be sick all over him.
"Mother, it's time to wake up," the boy said gently when they pulled into the station. Christine yawned as she lifted her head and placed a kiss on her son's cheek.
Christine bubbled with excitement during the carriage ride from the station to her Angel's estate. She'd experienced his genius through his music, and she couldn't wait to see his genius in tangible form. Since the beginning of the journey, Christine's companions had been unappreciative of the vicomtesse's endless chattering. Even Gustave had grown disgruntled by his mother's one sided conversation before she'd fallen asleep on the train. Fortunately, Christine was speechless when the carriage pulled into the drive of the house and stopped beneath a portico. The estate was more elaborate than her grandest fantasies. The first storey of the manor house was a sturdy grey stone while the upper levels were dark weatherworn shingles, perfect for the coast. Balconies and roof lines were added without regard for symmetry and without fitting into any particular architectural style. What Christine loved most, however, was the tower rising high above the rest of the structure. The view was surely fantastic from up there. Her Angel had obviously spared no expense in allowing his genius to become a reality.
Gustave and the Girys helped the gawking Christine into the foyer while the footmen unloaded trunks from the top of the carriage. Christine's eyes grew even wider, at the sight of the front hall. The room was dark from heavy usage of mahogany and the Persian rug, but a dazzling chandelier and a massive window on the landing of the bifurcated staircase succeeded in bringing light into the room.
"Welcome to Mazandaran!" said her Angel from the top of the staircase. He descended with Ayesha on his heels and a wide smile on his face. "I'll give you a tour later, but right now I think Madame de Chagny is about to collapse!"
Her Angel laughed and took Christine under his arm to help her upstairs. As he led his guests down winding corridors, Christine admired the latticed windows that allowed speckled shadows of light to dance across the floor.
"How was the journey?" her Angel whispered with a soft smile.
"It was alright," Christine replied shyly as she gazed into her Angel's golden eyes, "but I am glad to finally be here!" Christine swore his grip tightened around her waist. She was too distracted by the thrill of being in his arms again to adore the rest of her surroundings, but Gustave paused in awe when the group walked on a mezzanine overlooking a two storey library. He'd beg Mr. Y to show him the room later, but Gustave ran to catch up with the adults lest he get left behind and find himself lost in Mr. Y's expansive home.
"Madame de Chagny, I've put you in the Louis-Philippe room," said her Angel as he used one hand to open the french doors to the suite and the other hand to support the swooning woman in his arms. "I hope you will find it to your liking."
"I'm sure I will," she gushed as the two of them entered the boudoir. Her Angel shut the doors leaving the others behind in the hallway. The suite was fit for the lady of the house, and there was no doubt in his mind that role should be filled by Christine during her stay at Mazandaran.
"The dressing room and bathroom are through those doors," her Angel said. "And here is your bedroom." He led Christine to the four poster canopy bed and sat her down among the plush pillows. Much to her disappointment, he released his arms and stepped away.
"The room is really very lovely," Christine said politely, but she longed for his touch again.
"Wait until you see this!" replied her Angel as he walked over the curtained wall. He pulled the cord to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a sprawling garden and beyond that, the shimmering blue waters of the Long Island Sound.
"It's beautiful!" Christine gasped as she stumbled out of bed. Her Angel rushed to help her to the windows, but he stopped her when she reached for the handle of the door to the balcony.
"I think, Madame de Chagny, you should rest after your exhausting journey. Do you need help undressing? I mean-" Her Angel hunched his shoulders as a deep blush crawled over the unmasked side of his face. He lost his demeanor of a confident host and quickly set Christine into an armchair beside the fireplace. "What I meant was, I've hired a lady's maid to assist you and the Girys during your stay here. I will send her in after I show the others their rooms."
Her Angel hastily left the room before Christine could protest. She giggled when she heard the main door to her suite slam shut. From her seat, she gazed out onto the splendid view before her and waited for the arrival of the maid.
"Thank you for waiting," muttered Erik to the Girys and Gustave when he re-entered the hallway. They noticed his hunched shoulders and red cheeks, but no one said a word.
Madame Giry was settled in a suite resembling an English countryside estate. Erik believed the comfortable room suited her no frills nature, and the old woman wholeheartedly agreed. She gave a tired sigh and sank onto the four poster oak bed to admire the yellow floral wallpaper.
Her daughter Meg, however, was the total opposite when it came to choice of decor.
"I've put you in the Rococo room, Mademoiselle Giry," said Erik. Meg squealed in delight when she saw the ornately decorated boudoir and bedroom. The vaulted ceilings of the hexagonal bedroom were covered in paintings of pastel skies, and the plush pink cushions of the gilt furniture were fit for a queen. Meg giggled and twirled around the room before collapsing on the bed. Her girlish giddiness put a smile on Erik's face.
"Now, Gustave," said Erik. "I believe it's your turn. Follow me." Erik led his son down the corridors. When they passed the two storey library again, Gustave timidly spoke up to make his humble request.
"Will you show me the library sometime?" the boy asked.
"Of course!" Erik replied, "and I will show you the music room too. My piano has just been tuned and is dying to be played."
Gustave gave a soft but sincere thanks. He said nothing more to the man who was apparently his father. The pair arrived at the bifurcated staircase in the main foyer and walked across the landing to the opposite wing of the house. Erik was most nervous about showing Gustave his bedroom. The women had been easy to please, but what if his son was unhappy during his stay? Erik wanted to make a memorable impression on the boy in the brief time they had together.
"I've put you in the Renaissance room," said Erik as he slowly opened the door. The dark woods and reds of the decor were similar to what Erik would've picked for himself and he hoped his son had the same taste. "Do you like it?" he asked nervously as Gustave looked around the room. The boy looked at his father and nodded. His lips curved into a smile as he offered the man a shy embrace.