September 15th 1892: Raoul
My assumption had been wrong. I didn't need the Phantom to make me feel like a heartless fool. Christine's hurt gaze managed to do so very well.
"I'm sorry, love," I muttered. "I wish there was another way, but there isn't. The Norwegians want to talk to me again, and they insist on doing it in Oslo rather than Paris. If I don't go, I could lose them… and all the money I've already given them! And think about my reputation! People will no longer offer me projects if they hear I don't care about my partners."
I threw her a pleading glance, hoping she'd understand me. Due to the lack of time we hadn't talked about my business too often lately, but she knew enough to comprehend I couldn't put my reputation at stake. It would have been worse than the loss of money. In my business a good reputation was worth its weight in gold. So far, I had never had problems in this respect, but it could change easily. I had seen it happen to other people.
Yet naturally all that didn't mean as much as my family. The box and the note had moved me more than I'd ever admit in front of my wife. I was frightened. What would happen soon? Another disgusting object in the mail? Or maybe an attack of some kind? An abduction? My mind was racing with the most terrible scenarios my imagination could come up with. No one should be allowed to cause my family fear.
At last Christine nodded.
"I understand what you're saying," she told me. "But why can't you just send M.Levarne instead of going yourself? He's your partner, Raoul, and he knows your business as well as you do." I saw the faint flicker of hope in her eyes and despised myself for having to extinguish it.
"Do you remember Juliette, M.Levarne's wife?" I asked her. "They dined with us sometime last month."
"Yes, I remember her," she replied after a moment. "Isn't she expecting? I think we were talking about the difficulties of giving birth…"
"That's just the point," I said, glad that she had provided me with a good introduction. "She is indeed expecting, and you know the last birth almost cost her life. So her husband doesn't want to leave her alone in such a hard time."
"I see…" she murmured, chewing lightly on her pretty bottom lip. I could only guess she was thinking that same things I had, and apparently she came to the same conclusion. "So you have to go," she stated. I nodded sadly, yet I was also relieved that my wife understood my reasons. She even allowed me to take her hand again as we made our way to the house.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
I spent the rest of the afternoon in my study, finishing all the things that had to be done before I could leave. It was surprising and also slightly embarrassing how many such things there were. If my desk looked like this after just a few days away from home, I hardly dared imagine what it would be like to come back from Norway, after a week or even longer.
Finally I made a pile of documents that had to be brought to M.Levarne. He was so glad that I let him stay with his wife that he'd probably be happy about taking over a few more tasks. There were a couple of meetings he'd have to go to alone, but I didn't think he'd have any difficulties. He knew the potential projects and the people offering them just as well as I did, maybe even better. It occurred to me that actually it was quite a good test: If things went smoothly while I was in Oslo, I could trust him to get along on his own when I spent time with my family.
The delivery of the documents was a little problem, so was picking up the children from their teachers. Gabriel was still in a dreadful state, too ill to walk more than a few steps. To my surprise Jacques offered his help. It had been so long since the last time I had seen him drive a coach that I had completely forgotten he could do it. Yet I learned that he had also visited Gabriel's parents with the coach instead of walking there. So he ended up fulfilling both tasks, bringing back Antoinette and Philippe alive and well.
After dinner, when the children had gone to bed, Christine and I talked for a while, but we avoided the delicate topic of the box and the note. Our subjects were of a practical rather than an emotional nature: Should we fetch a doctor if Gabriel's fever became worse? When would we be able to take him to his own home? Which tasks in the household had to be done in the next days? How much money would my wife need during my absence? It was a good conversation, yet not one in which we talked about the truly important things.
Now that I was lying in bed, my arms wrapped around Christine's small body, I felt truly calm for the first time ever since I had come home. It was difficult to be worried if one was warm and comfortable and knew that all the loved ones were safe. By now, I had even started entertaining an extremely comforting thought: What if it had been nothing but a mistake? What if the box had been meant for someone else and had just been brought to the wrong door? With this idea on my mind, as soothing as honey for a sore throat, I finally drifted off to sleep.
A few minutes later it began. Since I hadn't been asleep for long, I woke up quickly as I heard a sound. At first I assumed somebody had knocked at the door. I even called "Come in!" in a low voice, but there was no reply. Instead, I heard the sound again, closer to where I was. The sound itself had changed as well. It was no longer dull, but higher, like… breaking glass?
I had no time to think about it, for in the next moment all hell broke loose. A dark object hit the windowpane of the left window, smashing it at once. A second one followed, breaking the window in the middle. Then there was the dull sound again. The third one had merely hit the windowsill. With baited breath I waited to see whether it was safe to leave the bed, but nothing else happened. I nearly tripped over the carpet in my haste to get out as quickly as possible. Grabbing my dressing gown from a chair and pulling it over my nightshirt at the same time as I put on my slippers I was almost out of the door when a voice made me stop.
"Raoul?" Christine whispered anxiously. "What's going on? Where did that noise come from?"
"Someone's smashing our windows," I replied, opening the door. "I have to find out who it is. I'll be back in a minute."
"Be careful!" she called after me. It hurt me to leave her in that frightened and confused state, but it was more important to catch whoever it was before something even worse could happen.
In the corridor I almost collided with Jacqueline, who was rushing towards our room, the white nightdress and dishevelled hair making her look like a ghost.
"What is happening, M. le Comte?" she asked, sounding just as scared as my wife. "Somebody threw a stone against the window in Philippe's room, yet it only hit the wall next to it. Fortunately the children didn't hear it."
"Go and fetch Christine," I instructed her quickly. "One of you stays with each child, in case they do wake up. And be careful – two of our windows are broken, and I don't know how far the pieces have flown." The maid nodded and ran past me, while I made my way downstairs.
It was all quiet in the garden. No one was standing at the places where I suspected one had to be in order to throw something at that side of the house. Whoever it had been had taken no risks, leaving as soon as there had been light behind a window. Even though it was not very likely that somebody still was in the garden, I crossed the lawn with fast strides. My lantern illuminated the spots behind trees, bushes and any other hiding place I could think of. No one. Discouraged I returned to the house, with the certainty that something had to be done.
A quarter of an hour later all adults were assembled in an impromptu meeting. The lines between servants and my wife and me, not very important to us at the best of times, were completely forgotten now. We were all frightened and desperate to find a solution. It was a matter that concerned all of us.
Since Gabriel had insisted on taking part as well, but was too weak to stand up and come to the living room, we had squeezed into the guestroom, so that he could listen to us while lying in bed. It also had the advantage that we could leave the door open to hear whether one of the children woke up and called for us. Christine and the maid were sitting on the two chairs, whereas Jacques and I were standing. The only person missing was Larisse, who didn't live here, but spent the nights with her family.
After the excited and pointless chatting had ceased, we could start a useful discussion.
"Well, you all know why we're here," I began. "There has been an attack on this house tonight. Three windows are broken, two in our bedroom and one in an empty guestroom. Of course they'll have to be replace tomorrow, but that's not important at the moment. In combination with what was in the mail yesterday, we have reason to believe that this was just the beginning. Now we have to talk about what to do, especially since I'll be leaving for Norway tomorrow and won't be here to protect my family."
"Wouldn't the police believe us now?" Christine asked.
"I don't think so," I replied. "They'll tell us the damage was probably caused by some drunk people looking for a little mindless destruction. That's nonsense, of course. Drunk people wouldn't have bothered to walk all the way from the front gate to the house and then smash the windows at the back instead of simply taking those at the front. Whoever was out there this night knew what they wanted – or what he or she wanted, since we don't know whether it was one person or a few."
"But if the police knew all that – " Jacqueline argued, only to be interrupted by Gabriel:
"Even if they knew the story and believed it, what should they do? They can't send people to patrol around the house day and night. M. le Comte is an important man, but he's not the king or someone like that.". I nodded, grateful that he shared my opinion. "If only I wasn't ill!" he exclaimed with a deep sigh that turned into a cough. Jacqueline patted his back sympathetically.
"M. de Chagny, if there's anything I can do…" Jacques interjected, yet there wasn't much hope in his voice. He knew as well as everyone else that he was an old man who couldn't fight criminals.
"If you could continue driving the coach, you'd be a big help for all of us," I told him gently, making him give me one of his rare smiles.
I sighed. The situation was frustrating. Why was Gabriel, a normally so healthy young man, ill now, when I'd have needed his support more than ever? And why did those dreadful things have to happen just when I was about to leave the country?
"Raoul?" Christine addressed me softly. "There is a solution, you know, but I'm afraid you won't like it."
"If that solution includes going to the opera…" I said with another sigh. "…you can be sure I won't like it. And still I'll do it."