Disclaimer: see previous chapters

Chapter Fifty-Two

They waited for two hours at the crowded station before they departed on the train, and Christine was desperately searching for things to say to Erik during that time. She twisted her hands nervously, disturbed by several prying eyes that were staring at her cloaked husband, but he didn't seem to realize it…or if he did, he didn't appear to be bothered. He simply stared down at his hands and smoothed out the folds of his cloak periodically, and…it seemed to Christine…that he was counting the tiles in the floor. Each time she tried to ask him questions or speak about something they had seen or done at Perros, his responses were "hmmm" and "yes." Tired of the one-word answers, she finally gave up on conversation with her husband. He is distracted, naturally, she thought. Still, I wish he would hold my hand…something…anything!

At last, they boarded the train, taking their luggage to their seats with them. Christine promised herself that the next time they went on a trip, she wouldn't pack so many bags. Erik remained emotionally distant for the most part, and she wished that she could infiltrate his mind for a single moment. What can I do to help him, Lord? Why isn't he talking? Surely it has nothing to do with me, does it? She sat down, heaving a sigh of frustration as she turned away from her husband to stare out the window at the scenery. Her stomach suddenly rumbled with hunger, and she recalled that they hadn't eaten yet that day, and it was already past noon. Erik spoke to her at last.

"Are you hungry?"

She continued to stare out the train window. "It seems that I am," she said flatly, annoyed with his interminable silence up until that point.

"Let me see if I can get us something to eat, then," Erik replied, shifting in his seat. As he began to get up, Christine's temper flared.

"I was beginning to wonder if you even remembered that I was here with you," she said disdainfully, still preferring to study the scenery, her posture rigid and cold.

"What?"

She faced him then, shooting him a wounded glance. "You've barely spoken to me since we left the villa, Erik. I know that you must be grieving and thinking about many things, but I am your wife, not a piece of luggage," she remarked indignantly.

Erik's mouth hung open in surprise. "Christine, I—I'm sorry," he began, his blue-green eyes roaming over her face apologetically. "I didn't realize…I am just feeling…I don't know…."

"Erik, I can tell that you aren't being completely honest with me, mon ange. Your voice may hold the ability to disguise your true feelings, but your eyes always reveal the truth. Tell me, please. Allow me to help you, if I can," she said softly, placing a delicate hand on his cheek.

Sighing, he shook his head. "I don't want to burden you, Christine. I…I apologize that our honeymoon was cut short. I feel terrible about it."

"It wasn't your fault, Erik! And the time we did spend there was wonderful. I enjoyed every moment…and we made some lovely new memories there, didn't we?" She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with humor.

He had to chuckle. "Yes, mon amour, we certainly did." He drew an arm about her shoulders. "I suppose that what is really bothering me is what might happen to my position now that Monsieur Giroux is gone. I don't know who is to take over the firm, and whoever acquires it will be able to terminate anyone's employment at will. I have promised to care for you, Christine…and now I'm afraid we may get off to a precarious start."

She shrugged. "I'm not concerned, Erik. We will be together in plenty or in want, remember? I also have faith that the Lord will provide for us. If He can bring us together after everything we've been through, then my love, He is able to do anything!" she laughed lightly.

Erik smiled at her proudly, leaning away from her to look directly into her deep brown eyes. "You know something? I'm glad that I told you, after all. You just said some very wise things, ma belle femme. Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for, mon beau mari," she giggled.

"Don't tease me with such words, Christine," Erik said, mocking a fierce glare.

"I mean it, Erik. You are the most handsome man in the world to me, because you are mine," she whispered, pulling his neck down and kissing him softly. "I'm glad that I could help." She smiled contentedly and snuggled up closely to him. Within seconds, her stomach raised its protests again.

Erik laughed. "I think I'd better get that food now, hadn't I?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun had set and the dinner hour passed before the couple arrived back at the Laurent estate. The moon was enveloped in a blanket of fog, and it looked as if it might rain. Erik and Christine quickly dropped their luggage inside the front door of the guest house and immediately sought an audience with Monsieur Gregoire at the main house.

Guillaume showed them to the sitting parlor. "Monsieur Erik! Madame Christine!" Monsieur Laurent greeted them warmly and immediately noticed Erik's flesh-colored mask--a stark contrast to the white. He didn't want to make him self-conscious, however, so he decided it was best not to mention it. "It was good of you to come back from your trip so quickly. This is such shocking news…for all of us."

"Yes, and I'm so sorry to hear of it," Erik replied. "Have you heard of any funeral arrangements?"

"Yes, in fact, I believe that there will be a graveside service on Friday that we are planning to attend. Have you…given any thought to attending yourself?" Monsieur Laurent asked him warily. "I'm aware that it could be an awkward situation for you, Erik, but…"

"I'm not certain if it's wise," Erik interrupted. "There may be people there who would not take kindly to seeing me…or my wife," he said darkly, his eyes revealing his clear apprehension.

"I see. Yes, I'm sure that the Viscomte will be in attendance." Monsieur Laurent scratched his chin, glancing at Christine. "Your hesitancy is understandable. May I make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"Perhaps you should send flowers or a memorial along with a note, stating that you regret being unable to attend, but send your sympathy for the family." Monsieur Laurent raised an eyebrow, wondering what Erik's response would be. Before he could answer, Christine chimed in.

"I think it's a lovely idea," she said, turning to Erik with a slight smile. "And it is far safer. I do not want any kind of confrontation between you two," she said softly, in a slightly scolding tone. And you can't risk being arrested, either, she remembered, careful to keep her thoughts to herself. There could be many Parisians in attendance.

"As if it would be me who would cause the confrontation?" Erik grumbled. "Really, Christine, that is insulting!" He folded his arms, brooding.

Monsieur Laurent glanced between the two awkwardly, hoping to change the subject. "Well, I assume that you'll want to be at the reading of the will, at any rate…it only stands to reason."

Both Erik and Christine turned to Monsieur Gregoire with curious expressions. "What do you mean, 'it only stands to reason?' I know nothing about a will," Erik replied, perplexed.

"Oh." Monsieur's expression mirrored Erik's. "I…I just assumed that you did…you are mentioned in it, Erik. You received no notice of this?"

"No," Erik shook his head, wondering why on earth his employer would mention his name in his last will and testament. "I have been gone, but…" he trailed off, his brow furrowed in thought. "I didn't check outside the guest house to see if a messenger had left anything."

"I had a short visit with Monsieur Giroux's widow today when I was in town, and she spoke of it. She said that you had been mentioned, and to tell you that her husband was very pleased with all of your work, your promptness in meeting deadlines, your attention to detail…he spoke of your work often, it seems."

Erik was stunned. "He did?"

"Yes, apparently, and rightly so. You are one of the most gifted architects that I have ever seen." Monsieur Laurent cleared his throat, noting Erik's look of pride at the sincere compliment. "Well, the reading is the day after the funeral, and it is only for those whose names are mentioned in the will…and the Viscomte de Chagny's name, I'm certain, is not there," he gave Erik a half-smile. "Would you feel more comfortable if I were to accompany you?

"Yes, I think I may," Erik replied hazily. "Please…excuse us, Monsieur…we have not yet eaten our supper, and we are very weary from our day of travel." He turned to Christine, taking her hand as she smiled apologetically.

"Oh, of course. You both get some rest. But perhaps I could have the cook prepare something for you?"

Erik held up a hand in protest. "No…no. That won't be necessary. We'll be fine. Thank you." He led Christine out the front door and they returned to the guest house by carriage, exhausted and bewildered from the day's events.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What on earth can you be thinking? I'll not allow you to pour more of our parents' money into this frivolous project! The Populaire will be rebuilt, I'm sure, but the managers will simply have to find themselves a new patron!"

Raoul stared at his brother in mild surprise. He knew that though Philippe had frequented the Opera himself, he had always believed that his younger brother's patronage of the arts was a worthless undertaking. "Brother, our parents support the arts…why could you never understand their love for such things?" He leaned against the desk, shoulders hunched in frustration.

Philippe cast him a haughty glance. "Well, I can't say that I didn't enjoy myself at the Opera…or afterwards, for that matter," he smirked. "But I believe that our family money is better spent on other ventures and holdings here…not on your memory of a dreadful saga which is best forgotten."

Raoul snorted. "And what would you know about it, Philippe? You were so busy cavorting backstage with that dancer of yours…I'm surprised that you'd be interested in anyone else's affairs besides your own," he said disparagingly.

"My dear brother," Philippe replied, dripping with sarcasm. "Dear, naïve Raoul! The news of your little fling with Mademoiselle Daae spread through the Populaire like a wildfire! Everyone thought you were a fool to cling to that petulant child…no matter how curvaceous and tempting she was," he winked.

Raoul was incensed. "Any more comments of that sort, and you will regret it."

Philippe narrowed his eyes and advanced on his younger brother. "I don't think so, Brother. And you will do as I say…I am the Comte de Chagny, and you shall show me the respect that I deserve. Discontinue this project. Now."

Raoul straightened to his full height and firmly held his ground. "We shall see, Brother. I just received word today that Monsieur Giroux from the firm in Melun that I hired has passed away. I plan to attend his graveside service, and I hope to find out if his firm intends to continue the drafts for the Populaire. If they do, I have no intention of halting what has already begun."

The Comte gave him an icy glare. "If I find that you have wasted our family's money just to suit your own sick obsession…your reputation will be in my hands. Remember that." His eyes blazing, he turned swiftly, leaving the room with a slam of the door.

Raoul let out his breath slowly and slumped into his desk chair. That went well, he grimaced.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christine had made some tea and Erik settled into the armchair by the window. He had fallen into his brooding silence again since the news of his inclusion in Monsieur Giroux's will. Upon arriving back at the guest house, he had taken the time to search near the front door and found a small envelope addressed to him with the information inside. He sat, holding it in his hands, reading it over and over.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked him softly, handing him a teacup and saucer, and leaning in to kiss him on the temple.

He looked up at her with a vague expression. "Yes, bel ange, I'm fine. I just…I just don't understand why I would be mentioned in my employer's will. After all, I've only known him for a matter of weeks."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know, mon cher, but surely this is a blessing." She grinned at him, shaking his shoulder slightly. "Be glad about it, would you?"

"I'm too shocked to be glad," he replied matter-of-factly. "I'm tired…I think we should finish our tea and go to bed. It's been a very long and mentally exhausting day." He gave her a sleepy smile, and she knelt beside him, bringing her face eye level with his.

"We are still on our honeymoon, you know…even though we're back home now," she smiled sweetly at him.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at her veiled suggestion. "True," he said, lifting his hand to trace her jawline with his fingertips.

"Finish your tea. I'm going to get ready for bed." She glanced coyly over her shoulder at him as she left the room. "Don't be long, Erik."

There was no mistaking the tone of her voice. Erik hurriedly swallowed the remainder of his tea and set the letter he had been reading on the side table. He put out the lights and found his way back to the bedroom where he found his wife waiting for him, already in bed.

Christine patted the bed next to her. "Come and let me give you a massage, mon ange. You must be stiff from traveling. It will help you to relax, and you'll sleep better." Grateful for the offer, he sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes. She crawled up on her knees behind him and began to work the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. She could feel his body beginning to grow heavier as he leaned back against her. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Hmmm? No, I…well, maybe a little," he confessed. "I'm sorry, mon amour, I don't mean to."

"It's alright," she laughed lightly, patting his shoulders. "Better?"

"Yes, much better. Thank you." He turned to lay down on the bed, taking her into his arms.

"Well, it certainly has been an eventful week," she began. "But I had a lovely time in Perros. Thank you so much for taking me there, even though it was uncomfortable for you, mon ange." She curved an arm around his waist. "You haven't dressed for bed yet, Erik," she noticed as she lay her head on his shoulder. "Perhaps you should, because it's--" She stopped short as she felt his breathing become steady and even. She leaned up to look at him, his facial muscles relaxed and his demeanor peaceful. Asleep? Already? He must have truly been exhausted. She shook her head and smiled. Well, Lord, grant him the rest that he needs…and give him the wisdom to endure whatever lies ahead this week. She carefully reached up and removed his mask, setting it on her own bedside table so as not to wake him. Pulling the blankets up over them both, she snuggled into him with a thankful heart before she too succumbed to deep slumber.

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A/N: A HUGE "THANK YOU" to everyone who reviewed my last chapter. Phantom cookies for ALL of you! -grin- And yes, Raoul is BACK in this chapter. I must say, he's beginning to grow on me a little...but juuuuust a little, that's all! Lol Please click the teeny button in the corner now that says "Review" and give me some feedback, would you? (And Barbara, where are you?)