Chapter Seventeen

Meg could hardly contain the smile that graced her features. She had known the family was wealthy, had seen how easily Nicholas spent without even asking for a price when making purchases. The property in the Crimea had been stunning, yet this house was a palace in all but name. According to Tatiana, only royalty could deem their homes palaces where as nobility could only call their homes mansions. A pettiness as far as Meg was concerned, for this was very much a palace.

Nicholas had been gracious enough to take them on a tour. How her heart had swelled with a nostalgic longing when she entered the ballroom. The enormous room had gorgeous gold gilded walls and mirrors which reminded her so very much of her days in the opera house. The ceiling was painted with various romanticized images of a cherubs and lovers.

When Nicholas had casually mentioned the possibility of having a ball during the season, she had selfishly wished with all her little heart to be present for what promised to be a glorious event. Her mother had given her a cautionary glance which she had purposely ignored.

She glanced around the elegant oak dining room. The walls were lined with fine oak; the panels had detailed carvings which echoed the designs on the ceiling. Despite the masculine décor, she had to admit, the overall effect was charming and welcoming.

A plate was placed before her and she gave a friendly smile to the servant. She did not feel confident enough to speak to the servants. It was evident Nicholas enjoyed a good affinity with them, especially the older servants who were genuinely happy when Tatiana entered the dining room.

She had not failed to notice it was not just the servants who had appeared happy at Tatiana's appearance. Erik had stood up to pull a chair out for Tatiana, a gentlemanly gesture which would ordinarily had gone unnoticed had it not been for the fact, he had never done it before for anyone. Not herself, her mother or Tatiana in all the weeks they had been co existing together. Granted she was probably giving it more importance than it was necessary but then she had also noticed he would always look up when she spoke.

Was it possible? Her brows came together in a frown before quickly disappearing. Highly unlikely, she thought. He was likely paying her the courtesy's due to her own generous tendencies towards him. Would he extend the same courtesies to her? For some reason her weariness towards him, was very present. Even when logic dictated to her he was unlikely to harm her, in her mind he remained the very figure which had tormented the staff of the Opera house. Although never directly harmed by him, she had seen enough for him to cement his place in her mind as someone to be fearful of.

Perhaps with time she her chilly disposition towards him would thaw, but until then she felt it best to remain respectably and politely distanced.

"You're writing is improving." His eyebrow lifted in mild amusement.

"Was there any doubt to my ability to master the Cyrillic script?"

"I said you had improved, not that you had mastered it," she corrected, "tsk-tsk Monsieur, you being rather presumptuous."

"I'm merely stating the inevitable." He shrugged.

After dinner he had been invited to the sitting room attached to her bedroom. Apparently, it was meant for her to entertain guests in her privacy of her chambers. Although he had seen her private chambers, if the décor of the salon was any indication, they were likely exquisitely feminine and refined. The cream colored wall paper matched the upholstery on the furniture. The subtle material was highlighted and contrasted beautifully with the gilded mirrors and moulded décor on the walls. There were scattered plants and priceless porcelain adored with fresh flowers. The marble fireplace had been lit, creating a warm and welcoming environment. The room appeared to be a fair representation of its mistress, except he had noticed the monogram over the fireplace was not Tatiana's.

"Are your rooms to your liking?" she inquired as she handed him his penmanship back.

"They are sufficient." He lied, they were far more luxurious than he deserved. "The monogram over the fireplace, who does it belong to?"

"My grandmother," she motioned to painting hanging on the wall, "Princess Tatiana Dmitrievna, my father's mother."

"Nicholas appears to have several portraits of her."

"He was close to her."

"You were as well." It was not a question; he had detected the affection and pride in her voice when she had named her.

"I was." She looked at the portrait. "She was wonderful."

"These were her rooms?"

"They were." She glanced around the room. "Father and I made some minor modifications to it a few years ago, but to be honest aside from the fabric on the walls and furniture, it has remained largely the same as it was in my childhood."

"She must have been a woman of remarkable taste."

He recalled Nicholas in a rare moment of sadness, lamenting Tatiana had been the only one of his children to survive infancy. Nicholas had buried four children, a wife, and perhaps his family name if Tatiana died without having a child. It was a heavy burden on the man. A burden he usually did not discuss but one that emerged when they had discussed the difficulty of Tatiana's divorce.

"You would have liked her. She was beautiful, forward but gracious to a fault."

"Reminds me of her granddaughter." Tatiana smiled causing a familiar stir which he quickly dismissed.

"Shall we call it a night?"

"I suppose if you have to sleep sometimes." She laughed. "Same time tomorrow?"

He nodded realizing with some puzzlement how he was already looking forward to the following evening.

"Even in death, you are still an imposing presence." Antoinette whispered as she stood before the large portrait.

Unable to sleep she had departed the confines of her bedroom to walk the halls. She had come upon the drawing room and was instantly drawn to the portrait. It was not an unknown portrait, as she had previous seen a copy in Nicholas's study. Nicholas adored his mother, and she him. It was little wonder she had so much influence over his life as well as those who entered it.

A proud and strong woman who deserved the title she carried, she thought with some admiration. Despite their differences she never held any ill will towards the elderly princess. She had understood her actions then as young and naïve as she may have been. You were looking out for your family, she thought somewhat somberly. Who would not have the done the same thing in similar situations?

She licked her lips as she glanced around the room. She felt foolish, yet it was something she needed to do.

"I don't know if you can hear me," she began in a low voice, "probably not." She inhaled deeply. "Your granddaughter is lovely. You should be proud of the woman you helped raise. I do not know if you would have approved of the friendship that has developed between my daughter and her, but they are good girls. "

"When I crossed the threshold of this house, I thought of you. I could not help but wonder what you would have said of my presence in your home. I would like to believe you would have been amiable, but perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part? I deserved your scorn, perhaps not for the reasons you believe, but I did.

I say this because I need to say what always remained unsaid between us. As his mother, I respected you. I always respected you, and I hope you understood I never meant any disrespect or harm. As a woman, your words hurt me when we spoke last spoke. Not because they were cruel but because they were true."

She closed her eyes briefly recalling the scene which remained so vividly engraved in her memory. The older Princess had made an impression to last a lifetime. So much so, even thought she was merely standing before a portrait of a deceased woman, she felt the nervousness all too keenly.

"It was not meant to be then, but would you have accepted me now? I don't think you would. I do not blame you. I know my place, Nicholas is a dreamer. You said so yourself. Yet, I selfishly wish to be with him, would it be wrong if for a moment I allowed myself to be a dreamer as well?"

Silence.

She wasn't really expecting a response. In her own way was she was resolving some unsaid things between herself and the woman who altered her life. However sentimental and deluded it may appear to some, it was a closure she had sought for nearly two decades.

She turned and saw another portrait, not as prominent but no less regal. Another ghost, she thought somberly.

"I'm sure you are rolling over in your grave." She said a hint of amusement. Whatever respect she owed to Nicholas's mother did not extend to his late wife. Resentment, anger, and old fashioned envy were deeply cemented within her when it came to Marie. "I'm sure you echoed my sentiments tenfold."

"You won, he was yours, you birthed his children, but it never mattered to you." She sighed as her heart contracted painfully. "You could not be happy, because you did not wish to be happy." She had read enough of Nicholas's letters to understand his troubled relationship with Marie. "He never spoke ill of you. Not once. Always placing the blame upon himself, he was full of guilt, and still is." She licked her lips as she stared at the sad expression captured in the portrait. The artist masterfully captured her sorrowful look.

"I wronged you, without meaning to, I wronged you and I am sorry for the circumstances but I cannot ever ask for forgiveness for feeling what I do." And there was her truth. The burden of her guilt all these years was not her remorse over what she had done, but rather the lack of remorse. "I loved him, and love him still. I'm genuinely sorry for the pain my existence caused you, but I cannot regret meeting him."

For years she had struggled with her conflicted emotions. She had never lamented her feelings, only lamented the circumstances which placed their existence into a moral dilemma. She had married and been devoted to her husband, birthed him a daughter, and remained faithful to his memory. Her emotions were her own, and she never confided in him about Nicholas. For years Nicholas was her own most cherished secret. Until he reentered her life under the most dramatic circumstances possible.

Fate brought him back when she needed his assistance the most. He did not question her concern, nor hesitate he merely declared he would assist in escorting Erik away from danger. Despite the danger around them, she would be deceitful if she said her heart did not wish to leap out of her chest when she saw him after so many years apart. Correspondence has been a formal and respectable manner of keeping in touch, while remaining true to their respectable spouses.

And now their spouses were gone.

She glanced around her before beginning her journey back to her bedroom. The figures which had parted them before were no more but Nicholas was still very much a part of a world which was far beyond her reach. He was a nobleman and she was a former ballerina who had no titles to prestige attached to her name.

She remained very conflicted as to what he was offering her and what it would mean for him. It was difficult to discuss such intimate matters with anyone, and so she continued the debate within her. Seeking some assurance and guidance to the right path, whatever it may be.

The next morning, Tatiana was still in bed when her father paid her a visit. She gave him a lazy smile as she stretched in comfort.

"Good morning, father."

"Still in bed?"

"I was up reading." He smiled as he took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

"I hope you found your rooms acceptable."

"It was all as I left it." She returned his smile. "Thank you."

"Even when you were not here, I felt I could walk in and still sense your presence in these room." He chuckled. "It must sound foolish."

"It does not." She reached for his hand. "If anything it warms my heart."

"You are home at last." He placed his hand over hers. "That is all that matters now."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?"

"I had hoped to escort you and Meg to out this morning."

"Oh?"

"I would like for her to attend a few events this season and I believe she will require a few new gowns."

"Why not take Madame Giry and Meg around the city?"

"I'm afraid Antoinette will hardly allow me to purchase anything for Meg if I bring her along." He laughed. "She believes I over indulge Meg."

"Then perhaps an outing alone with Madame Giry?" she suggested innocently.

"Subtleness does not suit you."

"I tried." She shrugged. "Perhaps a change in scenery would help you make some progress in your not so subtle courtship."

"Any subtleness is made purely for Antoinette's benefit as she is somewhat uncomfortable with Meg being aware of our previous attachment."

"So I've noticed."

"I do believe I'm making some progress, although I highly doubt she will have me."

"Perhaps the third time is the charm?"

"I doubt it. Antoinette continues to harbor some reservations as to our potential future together. I suppose I cannot fault her, although I selfishly wish for her to yield and accept to be my wife."

"I do not think she would still be here unless she was genuinely inclined to accept to your offer."

"I have loved her for years. First in sin-"

"It is not a sin to love."

"It is when you are married and your wife is not one you love." He shrugged. "I wronged your mother, and her ire was justified."

"Mother is no longer here, she has not been for years. Now is the time for you and Madame Giry to finally be together." She urged.

"I do not believe God intended for us to be together in this lifetime. Perhaps I should be content with the opportunity he provided me by allowing me to spend this beautiful time with her."

"You cannot always believe your fate to be in God's hands, father."

"You have broken away from your faith, and because you have you do not remember what it is to believe." He squeezed her hand gently. "Perhaps you need to stop blaming God for the suffering you have endured, and begin to start to blame the real person responsible."

"I do not hold you responsible, father. I may have turned away from God and resent him a little, but never you." She said as she hugged her father and buried her face against his chest. She could never hold anything against the one true constant love in her life, her father.

"I do not deserve you." He whispered.

"You deserve the world at your feet," she beamed at him. "Now go and try to win the hand of the woman you love."

A/N: It's not a very long chapter but it's because I made the decision to split the chapter again. I felt there was already too much going on in this chapter, and with the added scenes it didn't seem to go well together. Thank you for the reviews! Really appreciate the support and I thank you all for reading this little story of mine. Next chapter will be up soon. Don't forget to review!