Chapter Eighteen

Erik happened upon Nicholas as he prepared to descend the main staircase.

"You appear particularly lively this morning," he commented with a half smile, "I'm almost envious."

"Erik my boy," Nicholas beamed, "I feel energized with determination."

Nicholas never ceased to amuse him with his continued habit of addressing him as though he were a child. Had anyone else addressed him as their 'boy' he would interpreted the term as an insult, as it stood, it was rather endearing coming from Nicholas.

"I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are determined to do." He was nearly certain the unspoken issue at hand revolved around Madame Giry.

"Come Erik, let us enjoy breakfast together as it appears the rest of the household continues to remain in bed."

He said nothing only followed Nicholas in silent consent. His sleep has been sporadic at best, as was his habit. Weary from his resent less he welcomed the idea of a well served breakfast with gusto. Selfishly, and even childishly, he could not help but wonder if any of his previous agitators could claim to be experiencing such luxuries.

"Is something amiss?" Nicholas prodded gently, "You appear somewhat distracted this morning."

"All is well," he said with a slight shrug, "I briefly became lost in my thoughts."

As they descended the stairs they came upon one of the maids. She quietly greeted them before giving him a peculiar look. She gave him a slow smile, before hurrying up the stairs. It was not the typical glances he was accustomed to, and found himself puzzled over the expression.

"I was not aware you had made such an impression on the help, Erik." Amusement was evident in his voice.

"I've always made impressions," he replied perplexed at Nicholas's remark, "why are you amused?" They entered the dining room, with Nicholas motioning for him to take a seat.

"You are one of the most intelligent men I know," Nicholas motioned for the attending servants to leave the room, "far more intelligent than many noblemen I personally know." He paused as he watched the servants leave the room. "However, you are also, one of the most naïve in certain matters, and I mean no offence by the remark."

"I do not understand."

"No, you do not." Nicholas smiled as leaned back against his chair. "When we passed the young maid in the stairs, she gave you a certain look."

"She smiled at me."

"It was not simply a smile, my friend, it was a coquettish grin."

"I believe you are mistaken."

"I have spent enough decades on this earth to have learned a thing or two about woman." He smiled. "Granted, there is much I will never understand or come close to understanding, however, I do know the look one offers when they are interested in you."

"I do not believe you are accurate in your observations."

"Is it very difficult to believe a woman could be interested in you?"

"Exceedingly difficult."

"I will bold," Nicholas leaned in, "despite your physical affliction, I can assure you as far as appearance is concerned you most woman would consider you exceedingly handsome."

"You are not jesting."

"No I am not."

Nicholas was an honest man, yet his words were ringing false in his ears. He had never considered himself attractive by any stretch of any imagination. He took pride in his appearance, but it was a conscious attempt to conform some normality to his person.

"Erik, if I may ask," Nicholas appeared to measuring his words carefully, "please tell me if I'm out of line. How experienced are you in regards to courtship and-uh, such?"

His mortification manifested itself instantly. He felt himself blush profusely before looking away in utter embarrassment.

"I did not mean to make you uncomfortable," Nicholas persisted, "I merely wished to have some understanding of your experience."

"It has all been negative." He sputtered indignantly.

"Forgive me Erik it was not my intention to stir old wounds."

"There is no need to stir; those wounds have yet to heal."

"It has been some time now since you departed Paris," Nicholas cautiously spoke, "perhaps it is time you begin to distract yourself."

"I have plenty of activities to distract me."

"No," Nicholas gave a knowing grin, "I meant a different type of distraction."

"I do not understand."

"Erik, my boy, you are as innocent as a school boy." Nicholas grinned. "Naturally what is discussed between us, remains between us." He whispered. "It has been my experience, especially when we are forced to endure certain hardships of the heart, we can often find some comfort if only briefly in the arms of another."

"I don't know what to say." He was certain his face had turned into a crimson shade. The conversation was humiliating, yet he could not deny he was intrigued. He was not as innocent as Nicholas believed, but far more than he wished to admit.

"Let us say nothing then. When you are ready to discuss this matter, I shall be more than ready to for this conversation."

"Thank you."

"Do not be embarrassed," he continued as he sipped his drink, "you have done nothing to be ashamed of."

Exactly, Erik thought dejectedly, I've done nothing.

Tatiana walked alone down the halls of a home she knew all too well. Yet despite knowing every room and hidden path, she felt strangely alienated from her cherished home. Everything was the same, yet something had changed. No, she poignantly realized, not something but rather someone. She had changed.

She felt foreign in her own skin. Everything felt distinctly different, yet so very familiar. Even as she struggled to reclaim a balance within herself, she was all too aware some of the changes within her were irreversible. Nothing could ever be the same.

Stepping into the winter garden she paused before the fountain. As a child she had imagined herself to be the sculpted cherub fearlessly riding the swan into another world. Her fingers reached out to touch the sculpture.

"It's a beautiful piece." a silky voice tickled the back of her neck. Startled she turned to face an amused Erik standing directly behind her.

"Honestly Erik, your talent for maneuvering in silence is alarming."

"I'll take it as a compliment." He smiled.

"You would." She frowned at his amused expression. "You take pride in the most peculiar things."

"I'm a peculiar being." He circled her, raising one elegant eyebrow. "You are dressed differently."

She wasn't sure why she was pleased at his attention to her choice in wardrobe, but she was. Her outfit had been a conscious effort to dress a touch more regal. Although the changes had been subtle, she had opted for a dress of slightly finer fabric than she regularly wore. The design was simplistic with only black buttons adoring the white top from the very top of her neck to the edges of her waist where it met her skirt. Fitted to her exact measurements it hugged her slender frame very generously. As her only adornment she had selected a pair of pearl earrings along with a few pearl hair pens which were securely placed in the braid which wrapped around her bun.

"Do you not approve?"

"Far from it, it's quite becoming."

"Thank you," she smiled at his compliment, "I'm glad I meet your approval."

"I did not believe my opinion mattered."

"Of course it does. I'm sure you would be quick to point out any flaws had I committed any fashion faux pas."

"Indeed I would." His eyes met hers and for a moment, she found herself captivated by the intensity of his stare. She did not know why she normally avoided making eye contact only that his stare perturbed her for reasons she did not understand. "Luckily, you have an impeccable taste in fashion therefore I doubt I shall ever have to correct you." He smiled and despite herself she smiled in return.

"I did not expect to see you this morning." She admitted.

"Oh?"

"I believed you have been inclined to venture out and discover the city."

"Unlikely." He said simply. She understood his brief response meant to be an end to a topic he did not wish to discuss.

"A pity," she reached out to touch one of the roses which had bloomed, "perhaps another time then."

"You refrained from joining your father in his outing this morning." He turned his keen gaze to her. "You also have refrained from venturing out since our arrival."

"I sense there is a question you wish to ask." His lips twitched into a smirk.

"According to your own admission, you have not set foot in the city in years. Rather than explore the city or visit with acquaintances, you remain here. Quite interesting."

"Would you believe me if I said I have no friends." She gave a sad smile at his puzzled expression. "It is true."

"How can it be?"

"The girls I had believed to be my friends, ceased to be when I married."

"Are you certain they would not wish to be reacquainted with you?"

"Even if they were, I'm certain they would find my current personality lacking."

"You sound uncharacteristically pessimistic."

"I suppose some of your attributes have begun to wear off on me." He snorted at her remark, yet she felt he was merely teasing her with his mock indignation. "Should you not be out exploring the city yourself?"

"I'm afraid I'm neither inclined nor motivated to leave the confines of this magnificent home."

"Consider yourself motivated," she wrapped her hand around his arm, "let us partake in a tour around the city."

"Surely you jest."

"Not at all," she gently tugged on his arm, "is my companionship such a tedious task you would rather remain home why I venture out on my own?" He gave a soft laugh.

"I will confess I'm not inclined to leave the confines of these walls for many reasons; however your delightful companionship is significant motivation to lure me out."

"For a man who professes to have no social abilities," She grinned as she escorted him out of the garden, "you can be rather charming when you wish to be."

She was uncertain, but she could have sworn he had blushed at her words. Dismissing her curious thought, she instead began making quick mental notes of all the lovely places around the city Erik would be sure to enjoy.

Meg could not believe all the beautiful stores they had visited. Nicholas had showered both women with numerous gifts, ignoring her mother's pleas to cease his lavishness. Oh, how she wished he was her father! Her mother lavished affection on her but never the expensive gifts Monsieur Alexandrov was gifting her.

Although her mother continued to avoid the subject, Meg knew enough to realize whatever affection there had been between the two, was obviously still there. In fact, she could almost swear he was courting her mother. The thought of her mother with a suitor was very amusing, no matter how times she thought it over, she always giggled at the thought of her mother with a sweetheart.

She was certain if Christine was there, she would be tickled too. She missed her dear Christine. They had always shared every little detail about their lives with one another. Although Tatiana was very good to her, she did not share her trusting nature and refrained from divulging any personal information. She was always on guard, somehow unable to allow anyone to become too close. As a result their friendship at times seemed to be a one sided at times.

It was also difficult to see her spend more time with Erik. She knew Tatiana was only teaching Erik as she was teaching her, but her mother had confided in her that Erik and Tatiana were finally getting along enough to be considered friends. Why this upset her so much she was not entirely very sure. The thought that someone like Erik could earn the trust of Tatiana before her, perturbed her.

She no longer feared Erik as she once had, but she also did not feel completely at ease around him. Come to think about it, she was the perhaps the only person who felt awkward around him. The servants treated him just as they treated her; some of the maids even flirted shamelessly with him. She had seen more than one maid give Erik a rather flirtatious smile. It should not be completely shocking, after all were it not for his mask, Erik would be considered handsome, exceptionally so, if she were to be honest.

He was not the same man who had haunted the Opera house. He conducted himself with the same poise as Nicholas. His manners were immaculate and his intelligence was far superiors to hers. She had heard enough conversations between him and Nicholas to understand why they got along so well. They shared many attributes, with Erik lacking only the title and wealth Nicholas was blessed with. Perhaps if Christine had seen this Erik before things may have turned out differently.

Her mind drifted to her old friend. Christine had written to her over the last few weeks and often. She sometimes received up to three letters a week a very uncommon thing in their times, considering the distance.

She was in England with Raoul on their honeymoon; although from what she read it seemed to be more about business than pleasure. Her lines always carried a hint of longing, but she repeated in every letter how good Raoul was to her. The more she thought about it the more she began to think perhaps Christine was not as happy as she should be. She had an overwhelming urge to run home and write to her. She had written to Christine about the Alexandrov's but never mentioned Erik directly. It was something her mother had discouraged her from doing early on. She was to never tell Christine or Raoul of Erik's whereabouts. Raoul was still angry enough to have Erik captured and hung without thinking twice about it, and although Meg never thought she would wish otherwise, she didn't want him to be hanged. He was an intelligent man who had gone mad out of love, therefore as far as she was concerned he was just as sane as her. Love makes people some of the most desperate acts, or so her mother claimed.

"Meg are you done looking?" Her mother asked. Meg was standing in front of a candy shop and one glance from her mother told her to not even think about buying sweets.

"Yes, mama." she said with a slight pout. I never get to eat any sweets. She lamented as she rejoined her mother's side.

He had been pleasantly surprised to find such an outing oddly pleasurable. They had spent the majority of the time in the carriage sightseeing. He had understood her choice of riding in the carriage rather than walking to be a gesture of kindness. Tatiana was tactful in her handling of situations, a trait commonly exhibited by her father. It was evident she had inherited many traits from her father, yet was distinctly different.

Staring at her partially shielded visage he noted her features were unquestionably attractive. He had seen many beautiful women in his life, yet Tatiana's beauty was uniquely alluring in a manner he could not quite grasp.

He was unsettled by his inability to adequately solve the perplexing riddle.

"You are brooding again." He detected a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I do not brood."

"Very well, you are an expert in languishing."

He snorted at her clever remark.

She was staring out the carriage window. He noticed her melancholy expression, one which had not previously been exhibited during their outing. He glanced outside the window to discover any particular cause for her sudden wistfulness and noticed an elaborate church.

"Is the church not to your liking?" he inquired, careful not to probe too far.

"The church itself is lovely," she remarked distantly, "it is the memories formed at the church I'm not fond of."

"A funeral?" he inquired.

"Close," the corner of her lips lifted slightly, "my wedding."

She rarely brought up her marriage. They never spoke of her marriage, or impending divorce. It was one of many matters they understood to be restricted to the confines of their own inner thoughts.

"Forgive me." He genuinely offered.

"There is nothing to forgive." She continued staring out the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. "I was barely sixteen, very ignorant and naïve about many things. Yet even then something inside of me protested sedately against the marriage."

"Our instincts are usually our best advisers."

"Indeed." She sighed. "Is it not funny how a handful of moments seem to leave permanent marks on our lives?"

Very funny indeed, he thought with some grimace.

"We all have painful memories we must live with." He gently offered. "I believe time is meant to help us move forward from such trials."

"Has it helped you?" She turned to look him directly in the eyes.

He paused to reflect on the question. Had it helped him? In many respects, his pain was still fresh yet in others, he felt he had indeed made some progress. He did not rage in pain any longer, he reflected upon it, and often. Perhaps not as fervently as he had during the first weeks, but he still thought of Christine. All of what could have been, and all that would never be.

"I do believe it is helping; but by no means can we forget nor should we forget our past, but rather utilize our experiences to guide us in our present and future."

"Wise words," she smiled kindly, "we all have our own heartaches to conquer."

"Can we ever conquer one's heartache?" He wondered out loud. "Or merely learn to live with the loss?"

"I do not know."

"Neither do I." He remarked honestly as he thought of the void he constantly sought to ignore. He had loved and lost, yet he continued on with the sting of rejection and a handful of stolen moments to reinforce his poignant loss.

He felt a slender hand squeeze his. He looked up to see Tatiana leaned forward with a soft expression of understanding reflected on her captivating eyes.

"We all have our sorrows," she said gently, "we may have experienced them alone, but we can at least find comfort in knowing our experiences have brought us to where we are now." His leather gloved hand captured hers. This thumb gently moved over her knuckles. He found innocent touch and gesture, oddly soothing and reassuring.

"Indeed they have." His voice dropped to a whisper. He made no movement to relinquish his hold on her hand. Enjoying the rare pleasure of a woman's touch, however innocent the touch was, it was a pleasure none the less.

"Erik?" He looked up and was promptly shaken from his thoughts. Her eyes contained a mixed expression of confusion and concern.

"I'm afraid I became lost in thoughts one more," he confessed, "Apologies."

"Do not fret. Our thoughts are our best companions." She withdrew her hand from his and he instantly found himself missing the warmth of her touch.

"Not always."

"I suppose you are correct." She grinned broadly. "Your companionship is proving far more pleasurable than my lone thoughts could have provided me this afternoon."

"I most heartily share your sentiments."

"At least we are finally seeing eye to eye." Her infectious laughter caused him to laugh as well as he wondered when he last laughed as often as he had in her presence. To his amazement, he found he could recall no such time.

A/N: Don't forget to review!