Chapter Four: Paths

Erik walked alone along the beach that was part of the private estate he was now residing in. The last six months had been more or less a much needed respite from the world. Nicholas had not been jesting when he declared the climate was healthy for one's spirits. His sadness was by no means conquered; he'd simply learned to endure it. He gazed out to the sea and appreciated the sight. Winter would be forcing them to return to Saint Petersburg soon. He had nothing against the city, in truth he found he enjoyed the ethereal beauty and peace he was granted in this marvelous land. Nicholas claimed the weather was not as ideal during the winter, and insisted Saint Petersburg during its social season was not something he'd wish to miss. Considering how accurate most his statements had proven to be thus far, he was not inclined to disagree with him.

He began to walk back towards the main house. The property was not as isolated as other properties in the area. It afforded privacy and the conscience of being near the local town. The actual house was not as lavish as others in the area, as it was subtle in its grandeur. It was as Nicholas affectionately referred to as, 'his little cottage'. It was built for comfort not luxury, according to Nicholas; it was meant a retreat from the opulence of Saint Petersburg. It was tastefully decorated with each room having views of the gardens and sea. His own room overlooked the small fountain which constantly lured him to sleep at night. This privileged yet oddly domestic lifestyle had lured him into a sense of serenity he couldn't recall ever experiencing.

Also to his surprise, he had found a friend in Nicholas. He had never established a friendship with anyone aside from Antoinette. Therefore he had been rather taken aback by how easily it had been to form camaraderie with Nicholas. He would like to think he could attribute this to his own starved craving for companionship, but in truth Nicholas was a man one could easy hold to esteem. His only grievance was Nicholas tended to treat him as a child rather than an equal. In truth, he did not truly mind. Having no male influence in his life, he found he rather relished the fatherly advice Nicholas often bestowed upon him.

He'd learned a few tidbits of information from the help. Nicholas had been a widower for some time. His wife, according to everyone had been very delicate, and her struggles to birth healthy children may have accelerated her decline in health. Four children were born and only one survived to adulthood. It seemed unfair for someone like Nicholas to have suffered the pain of losing children. His suffering was different from his own, yet he genuinely lamented his losses.

A passing villager gave him a friendly wave of a hand as they crossed paths. The evolution of his relationship with the locals was something Nicholas never tired of teasing him about. When he had first arrived, there were few villagers who had accused of being a messenger of the Devil. He quickly silenced them with the threat of bringing the Devil's wrath upon them. Most had gasped and ran, some cried, all the while Nicholas simply laughed before giving him a stern lecture. Nicholas eventually smoothed things over and soon enough everyone's attitude towards him had shifted to a decidedly friendlier one.

He was finally finding some sort of peace in this estate that offered both the luxury and seclusion he craved, and the acceptance he needed by those around him. Everyone who worked there always greeted him with a smile and treated him with the utmost respect. Having gone through life without this sort of attention, he found he was oddly fond of it. From time to time he would even be as bold as to engage in minor flirtations with the maids who seemed to adore him despite his mask. He did not take their attentions seriously, although he enjoyed them all the same. It wasn't difficult to summarize why he genuinely felt as though he had finally found his place in the world.

Nicholas frowned as he looked over the documents on his desk. It did not seem possible for his daughter to utilizing her yearly allowance at such an accelerated pace. She was never once for extravagance, leaving him to believe it was not she utilizing the funds. He was not ignorant of his son-in-law's expensive taste; however, it would appear he underestimated it. The man had no qualms about soliciting for additional funds. It was incredibly presumptuous of him, yet he was not surprised at all. It was not the first time he had received a request asking for additional funds. He could easily instruct his banker to wire the funds yet his dilemma was not the lack of funds but rather the lack of trust. He was not inclined to support a boisterous lifestyle for anyone, even if they were technically his family.

He reached for the silver letter opener as he picked up the next letter requiring his attention. He smiled as he realized it was from Antoinette. She was still keeping him at arm's length, yet their increased correspondence was progress.

Nicholas,

I'm pleased to hear of Erik's overall progress. I never believed there would be a time when he would willingly walk about in the open without his cloak. It may seem inconsequential to some, but for Erik's this is immense growth in his confidence. He has a talent for masking his sentiments very well, perhaps not so much his anger as you may now know, yet overall he has always been keen to disguise his weaknesses. I do not expect him to evolve over night, but this gradual progress reinforces my belief of his ability to adapt to the traditional life he has long been denied.

Your last letter was very touching in your reflections. Do not reproach yourself for what you believe to be failings as a parent. We do what we believe is best for our children's sake. I do not believe you capable of being a negligent parent, perhaps you committed some errors. However, one cannot reproach you. A man raising a daughter alone without assistance is difficult. You acted according to your conscious. It was always my belief your daughter was too young to be married, however, it is not uncommon especially in high society to see girls married off rather quickly. I cannot confirm the various speculations as to her marriage, but yes I've heard certain alarming rumors. They are only rumors; therefore one should always be cautious with the information as a result. It has been some time since I've seen her. She is a lovely and especially friendly, although her demeanor does alter into a very reserved manner when her husband is present. This is the only first hand information I can provide you.

As to your wishes and desires for an alternative outcome to the paths our lives have taken. Why lament was wasn't? Is it not better to accept things for what they are and be thankful we are able to maintain a friendship? We are no longer in our youth but parents of adult girls who in theory could yield us grandchildren soon. Let the issue rest for no good will come of it. It is what it is. I am content as you should be too. Our paths crossed perhaps that is all they were ever meant to do, simply cross.

Take care Nicholas, and please be sure to give my best to Erik.

Antoinette Giry

He was not displeased with her note. She had at least acknowledged his sentiments rather than politely glossing over the topic as was her habit. Her reluctance was evident and justified. He was not satisfied with being simply content, he longed for more. He was determined to breech the barrier around her heart, and he was certain his perseverance would eventually yield fruit.

Antoinette Giry sat at her desk sorting through years of letters. She could not recall the last time she had sorted through her personal correspondence. Her leisure time had been rarely available, and suddenly she found herself inundated by it. Meg had gone out with Christine and Raoul once more. It seemed her daughter was spending exceptionally large amounts of time with the de Chagny's as of late. She was certain the Viscount was merely indulging his young wife. Despite his friendly demeanor, she understood all too well the strict decorum aristocracy had to abide by. Her hand reached for a bundled stack of letters. She slowly untied the black ribbon that held them in place before carefully going over them. Photographs fall from one of the letters.

"Nicky…" she murmurs softly as her finger tips run gently over his youthful features. She had hundreds of his letters. All of them where filled with love, regrets, uncertainties, and hope. His letters always made her blush with his shockingly honest desire to be with her. He made her ache with a simple thought. She had been young and naïve once, not anymore. Her emotions remained rigidly in check for a reason. The past was filled with beautiful memories but also painful truths. They have moved on from their previous attachment. To dwell on it only served to stir emotions best left interred.

She picked up another photograph of a small girl standing besides Nicholas who was seated. Her head was reclining against his shoulder, as he gazed down at her affectionately.

"She certainly resembles her father," she whispered as she gathered all the letters.

Without warning she heard a frantic pounding at her door. Startling her from her thoughts, she quickly placed all of the letters back into their box. She rushed to the door and opened it, tremendously staggered to see a tall cloaked figure standing in the hall. The cloak concealed the face and much of her figure; however the head raised the shadow lifted from the pale face.

"What are you doing here?" Antoinette asked in bewilderment.

"Please, help me," a trembling voice replied as a pair of blood soaked hands lifted from under the cloak.