Chapter Eleven

Erik didn't know what to make of the young Countess. Their nightly lessons had served to reveal nothing of her inner thinking. Formal, almost to a fault, she appeared to posses nothing of her father's natural charm. Despite her aloof manner, he had conceded, albeit begrudgingly, she possessed of the keenest minds he had ever encountered. Granted his interactions were limited, however, he prided himself in recognizing talent and intellect, even from a distance. Perhaps it was his appreciation of knowledge, or simply the pleasure of interacting with a beautiful woman, but he genuinely looked forward to their nightly interactions.

He was thriving under the challenge to master the language. Whatever material she presented to him, he absorbed it with relish, and confidently recited the text to her. She had yet to praise him; however, he noted the books she presented him were far challenging than the novice material she had originally presented him with. He accepted the unspoken challenge with veiled mirth.

From his seat he could see young Meg Giry and Tatiana walking along the path that led to the beach. As if sensing his gaze, she turned back to look around her before raising her head slightly to look directly at the veranda where he was seated. He held her gaze; she gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, before she turned her attention back to Meg. His lips curved into an amused smirk.

Despite Tatiana's reserved demeanor she appeared to gravitate towards her young companion. The two girls could not have been more of a contradiction he noted. From their height difference, to their hair color, to their temperaments, they were as different as two girls could be. It was easy to forget in theory they were similar in age.

Meg had never struggled to make friends. He could recall the little blond girl running along the stage easily bringing a smile to even the most roughneck of the stagehands had always fallen to for her innocent charm. It should not surprise him she was able to win Tatiana over, yet it did. Tatiana's nature hardly seemed receptive to anyone. Her attitude although never rude was reserved, almost painfully so. Even with the staff who had known her all her life. One more than one occasion he had overheard the staff discreetly remarking on her change. He was more than a curious to know, exactly how she had been before her marriage.

Everyone concurred her altered personality came as a direct result of her marriage. A marriage which had evidently proved disastrous. She never mentioned her estranged husband, nor did anyone for that matter. The entire matter was an intriguing puzzle much like Countess herself..

"You appear particularly pensive this afternoon, Erik."

"I suppose I am." He turned to Nicholas. "Come to enjoy the view?"

The veranda allowed them a perfect view of the garden, mountains and coast. In truth, it was a harmonious room, one he frequented on a daily basis.

"Today is a beautiful day, is it not?" Nicholas inquired casually taking a seat beside him.

"Indeed it is."

"If I may be so bold-"

"Out with it."

"I cannot help but notice you've taken on a more vigorous outlook."

"This concerns you?"

"Far from it," Nicholas chuckled, "it is warmly and genuinely welcomed. One can only lament for so long before it toxins the soul."

"I suppose I cannot argue with your logic."

"My daughter made an interesting remark this morning."

"Oh?"

"She stated you appear to have a sharp mind."

"Was it ever in doubt?"

"I'm very aware of your genius. However, I was not aware my daughter had been exposed to it as well."

"We have exchanged words."

"I'm pleased to see you two are at least being cordial towards one another."

"Madame Giry did her best to indoctrinate some decorum into my upbringing."

"You revere Antoinette as something of a parental figure." Nicholas observed. "She is only a few years older than yourself."

"I have never seen her as a maternal figure," he admitted.

"Oh?"

"Set aside your dubious thoughts. My sentiments have never extended into the romantic domain."

Nicholas laughed as he gave him a slight pat on the shoulder, causing his lips to twitch into a small but genuine smile.

"Honestly Meg, this is more for your benefit than my entertainment." Tatiana quipped.

Meg gave her a sheepish smile. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Tatiana's attentions; it was simply all so tedious. She had never been a very good student, much to her mother's dismay. The stage had always dominated her thoughts. Her aspirations to conquer the stage as one of its finest dancers had the force behind her strict training. Numbers and letters had hardly seemed important then, or even now she mused as she looked down at the book in her hands.

"I never had the head for these thing," she freely confessed, "Mama will tell you what I failure I was as a child."

"You are far from dense Meg," Tatiana took the book from her hands; "there is nothing you cannot learn if you set your mind to it."

"You sound like Mama."

"Apply yourself Meg."

"What is the use? Mama says we will be departing soon."

"I highly doubt it." Tatiana said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"She was very adamant about it."

"Actions speak louder than words."

"What do you mean?"

"She has claimed she wishes to depart, yet has taken no true action to actually depart."

"I suppose. The climate here is so lovely and appealing; it makes it difficult to leave."

"It's not the weather retaining her."

She frowned at Tatiana's choice of words. She was perhaps not as sharp as others; however she understood sarcasm perfectly clear.

Despite her mother's reluctance to enlighten her as to what exactly had transpired between herself and the noble Prince, it was evident their history was not only profound but also very present. She had grown up observing flirtations between stagehands and ballerinas, to know and understand the meaning behind those hidden glances.

It was infuriating as it was frustrating to be practically the only person in the household who was being kept in the dark. Even the aloof and mysterious Erik appeared to more than she did.

Tatiana as with everything seemed to understand everything perfectly well. She enjoyed Tatiana's company and she was always so generous, but it was daunting to look at a woman who by all means was the ideal noblewoman. Beautiful, refined, and intelligent with a genuine good heart to spare. As if she could not be any more perfect, she thought with a touch of envy.

"Meg please read this," Tatiana handed her a different book. "You may remain here longer than you believe; would it not be convenient to immerse yourself in the culture without the need of a translator?"

"Your language is so difficult."

"Meg you perpetual child," Tatiana huffed, "I'll make you a deal. You read this, and I'll let you have my new burgundy dress you liked so much."

"The one with the velvet brocade?"

"The very one."

"Throw in the matching hat."

"Gladly."

"I would have done without the hat." She grinned.

"And I would have given you the gown regardless."

She noticed him standing idly by the window. He did not move nor acknowledge her presence as she approached him. She had noticed him conversing with Nicholas earlier, not wishing to intrude in their conversation she had abstained from approaching the men. Despite their daily interactions, she felt a wedge between them. She detected no anger or resentment directed at her. Somehow she was more perturbed by this. He was too withdrawn, far more than he had been previously. At least he had confided in her then. Now, she reflected sadly, now was stronger in some aspects yet weaker in others. It was impossible to deny the events of his last night in Paris had not profoundly affected him.

"Your brooding thoughts are practically screaming at me, Antoinette."

"You are not the only one who has much to think upon." She stood at his side observing as the sunset. From their vantage point, it appeared as though the sun was sinking into the ocean. It was a truly beautiful view.

"Stunning is it not?"

"It is." She conceded. "I cannot recall the last time I observed a sunset. There had always been much to do. Rarely had there been a pause for thought; let alone indolence."

"You are concerned." She turned to look at him and observed his new mask. It was similar to the one he tended to favor, with the exception it appeared to be slightly more slender.

"After so many years of priding myself in understanding you so well, it never occurred to me you could mirror my sentiments."

"You have not answered my question." She rested her hand on his arm and was pleased when he did not refrain from her touch.

"I had hoped this time away would be of benefit to you," she began carefully, "and despite seeing genuine improvements, I cannot help but be concern over the grief I know you must be enduring yet never discuss." Gathering her courage, she continued. "I realize you may not trust, nor hold me to same esteem as you may have once, however, I cannot help but concern myself with your well being."

His demeanor did not falter under her words. Had it been anyone else addressing him, his silence would be equivalent to a dismissal. Perhaps it was, she wondered. Their relationship had gone through many changes over the years. From that of friendship, to one of siblings, to partners, until he had somehow become a dominate figure in her life. He had never asked for obedience and unwavering loyalty, she had given it, and in return he had provided a support and stability she had desperately needed especially after the death of her husband. With some penance she realized the distancing had actually begun years ago. She had simply ignored the sad truth. Their unspoken agreement had fitted both their needs, but at what cost? A strong gloved hand came over hers. She blinked in surprise as she turned to look at Erik.

"I do not know how to grieve." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, his hand remaining over hers. "I refrain from speaking not because of a lack of trust or esteem but rather my incapacity to properly understand, formulate, or even express the poignant emotions within me."

He towered over her, had so for years. Yet at that moment, she felt as though she were standing next to the precarious yet vulnerable young boy in the cage she had met so many years ago. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'm here Erik. I'll always be here." She was rewarded with another gentle squeeze of her hand.