September 17th 1892: Erik
"What?" I asked not very intelligently. I hd just been in the middle of explaining my plan and didn't like being interrupted. Couldn't Christine have at least waited until I was finished? Yet apparently it was something important. Turning around I saw the serious expression on her face and knew that her objection, whatever it was, would be justified.
"What is it, Christine?" I repeated in a much more gentle voice than before. "What have I overlooked?"
She gave me a small smile, and at once I felt guilty for not having been nice from the beginning.
"Well, you haven't considered the fact that Jacques isn't a young man anymore," she replied. "He has been driving the coach all day, and I don't think he should do more. Besides…" She lowered her voice to a whisper and threw an anxious glance at the door before going on: "…his eyesight isn't as good as it used to be, especially in the dark. But don't mention at word of it to him! He wouldn't admit it anyway. He hates being regarded as weak.".
Who'd have thought that the butler and I had something in common after all? I could understand his fear of showing weakness and the resulting stubborn claim that he could do everything as well as a young man. So far, it seemed to have worked rather well, at least as far as I was concerned. His age had been a piece of information at the back of my mind, but I had never thought about how it might affect him. Yet Christine was right: I couldn't make him drive a coach in the dark if he didn't see properly. An accident was the last thing I wanted.
Now I needed a new plan, though.
"Who else could drive the second coach then?" I wondered aloud.
"I guess I could try if I…" The rest of Gabriel's sentence was swallowed by some loud coughs. Quickly he clapped his hand over his mouth, giving us an apologetic shrug.
"No," Christine and I said in almost perfect unison.
"That's impossible," she went on. "A few hours ago you were still lying in bed. And no matter how much you eat now, you haven't regained your strength yet. It would be just as dangerous as sending Jacques. The horse would only have to pull a little more firmly, and you'd have to let go of the reins."
He nodded reluctantly.
"But I want to do something to help," he assured us. "I'll take care of everyone in this house. Nobody will come in as long as I'm here."
"That's very friendly of you," I said, although I secretly hoped no one would try to come in. I wasn't sure how much protection Gabriel could offer in his present state. "But it still leaves us with only one coachman: me. Do you think one of the neighbours would help us?" I asked Christine.
"Maybe," she replied uncertainly. "I don't feel good about going to them, though. They'd have a lot of questions about why Meg can't drive home alone. Besides, their coachman would see you, and that could be the start of rumours. Do you want that?"
"Certainly not," I answered firmly. The less rumours there were, the safer we could feel.
"Raoul let me take over the reins every now and then when we had the coach to ourselves," Christine muttered pensively. "But I don't think that I know enough about it to drive a coach in the dark."
"You won't leave the house," I decided. The mere thought that my beloved could risk her life for my sake made shivers run down my spine. I'd never let that happen.
"I knew I heard voices," someone at the door said in that moment, interrupting my pondering. Looking over I saw Meg standing there, a smile on her face. "I was upstairs with Antoinette," she explained, coming closer. "I had to get her away from your cook. The poor woman was so worried that I was afraid it might influence the child, making her upset as well. So we spent the last hour sitting in her room, reading. Where have you been all the time? Was there something at the opera so fascinating that you had to stay there for hours and hours, or have you been somewhere else afterwards?" She obviously tried to hide her curiosity, but it didn't work. It was clear that she wanted to hear every little detail of what had happened.
I jerked my head into the direction of the coachman and pressed my finger against my lips. I was aware that sooner or later Meg would find out what Christine and I had done, and I cared surprisingly little about it. She was my beloved's best friend, after all, and had the right to know certain things. I understood that much about friendship. And since I hadn't made a fool of myself when we had been together, I didn't mind them talking about it.
Yet what I wanted to avoid was creating gossip for the servants. If Gabriel knew it, the others would eventually know it, too. And then one of them, probably Jacques, was bound to tell the Vicomte about it, and I didn't want that to happen. It was up to Christine whether she's talk to him about it. Not even I, and certainly not that old butler, would influence the decision she'd have to make at a much later point.
"We just forgot the time," Christine replied with a tell-tale wink. "You know that it can happen every now and then…"
"Oh yes, I know," Meg said, her smile widening. I couldn't tell whether she had managed to understand the extend of what had happened from her friend's vague comment only, but it was clear that she was thinking into the right direction. "But what's all the talking about coaches then?" she wanted to know. "I must have heard that word half a dozen times while I was coming down the corridor. You should really think about closing the door."
I briefly filled her in on the details of the plan that had turned out to be impossible.
"I'm not sure I understand the problem," she muttered when I was finished. "How do you think I came here? I have an own coachman, of course. I've given him a few hours off while I was here. He should be here any minute."
"That's not the point," I told her, feeling a little indignant because she had indirectly accused me of being stupid. "I know you have a coachman. The problem is that he can't guarantee your safety like I can. That's why I wanted to accompany you. But now…"
We all thought about it for a few moments. Finally Christine said slowly:
"Why don't you drive Meg's coach, and her coachman takes ours? Then you could take care of her and drive home with our coach afterwards.".
A smile spread across my face. That was the solution. And it was so simple. Why hadn't I thought of it myself? The fact that she had referred to the coach as ´ours´ was an added advantage. She really seemed to regard us as a unit, a family.
"That's an excellent idea," I praised her. "We'll do it exactly like that – right now!"
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Christine asked softly.
"Again?" I muttered, giving her a puzzled look. What else was there to forget? Had Meg's coachman problems with seeing in the dark as well?
"Dinner," she reminded me. "We haven't had anything for hours, and I won't let either of you leave the house before you've eaten. My pride as hostess doesn't allow that."
As if she'd somehow heard that we were talking about food, Mme.Gardé chose exactly this moment to enter the kitchen, carrying a tray with an enormous tureen.
"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, walking towards the table. "I would have been here much sooner, but the soup needed re-heating. It was stone-cold because you didn't… you didn't… Well, I'm very glad you're here now." With these words she placed the tray on the table.
As she drew nearer, I could see that her eyes were suspiciously red. Apparently she had been so upset that she had cried. I couldn't help feeling just a little guilty because our lateness had made her upset. Maybe I should do the Signora Marchesi approach and buy her some flowers. Fortunately my next time of being with Christine would take place in this very house, so that one one would get worried… no matter how long it would take.
With that very pleasant thought on my mind I settled down at the table. It was only then that I noticed there were other people in the room now than there had been before. The coachman, who had already been finished eating, had gone. Jacqueline and the children had entered the room after the cook, carrying various other things we'd need. When everyone had sat down, we started eating.
My beloved and her friend, who were sitting at the other side of the table, ate little, but talked a lot. Even though I knew that I was probably the subject of their conversation, I resisted the temptation to listen to it. If it was positive, there was no need for me to hear it, and if it was negative, I didn't want to hear it. Instead, I concentrated my attention on Antoinette's chatting about ballet. I knew enough about the topic to impress her with a few anecdotes and make Philippe join the conversation as well. I earned a few surprised glances from Jacqueline. She finally seemed to understand that there was more to me than what met the eye.
The girl was just in the middle of telling us all about her favourite ballet, when Gabriel entered the room.
"There's someone at the door," he said. "I heard the knocking when I walked down the corridor, but I wasn't sure whether I should open the door."
"I'll do it," I told him, hoping I sounded braver than I felt. I didn't feel like opening another of those parcels.