September 18th 1892: Raoul
I looked after Antoinette as she ran over to her mother, fervently wishing I had managed to hold her back. It was bad enough that the girl had so many questions I could not give her answers to, yet bothering Christine with them was even worse. The doctor had advised me to ease her mind, and that was rather difficult if she had to think about all that had happened again and again.
Christine threw me a slightly helpless glance over the top of our daughter's head.
"If your father didn't answer certain questions, he surely had his reasons for doing so," she said cautiously. "All this is very complicated, especially for children."
"Then don't tell Philippe," Antoinette suggested at once, gesturing at her brother, who was still standing in front of me and watching his sister curiously. "He's still very small. But you can tell me. I'm not a little child anymore – I'm nearly ten years old." I had to suppress a chuckle. Antoinette's tenth birthday wouldn't be until March, but she always started waiting for it in April.
"Your father and I will tell you all that we think is good for you to know at the moment," Christine assured her. "But now is not the right time to do so. We'll tell you later, once we'll be alone."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mme. de Gableaux made to stand up and shook my head slightly. Apparently she thought that she was supposed to leave us alone right now. I, on the other hand, interpreted Christine's words differently. She wanted to talk to the children later, when she and I would have had time to agree on a version of the events which would be suitable for them.
"Yes, we really don't have enough time now," I hastened to stress, before someone else could think about leaving the room. Letting my gaze wander over the people assembled at the door and catching sight of someone who had not been there before, I added: "Look! Uncle Jean has come here!".
This had been exactly the right remark to distract Antoinette with. She turned away from Christine and beamed at Jean, instantly starting to tell him all she knew about what had happened. For the moment, it wasn't important that she still hadn't had her questions answered. All that mattered was that she knew more about the incident than Jean. Given the fact that I saw him exchange a knowing glance with Christine, I guessed she had already filled him in, but he was far too friendly to say so. He merely let the girl talk.
Christine seized the chance to come over to where Philippe and I were standing.
"Jean has come to see us because Meg and Mme.Giry couldn't leave the opera yet," she informed us. "He says that we can stay with them as long as we want."
I smiled in relief. It was true that we could have easily found rooms in a hotel, but living with our friends would be much nicer, for the children as well as for Christine and me. Fire or no fire, I'd have to go and see my business partner tomorrow, and leaving would be much easier if I knew that my family wasn't alone in a hotel.
"So the man at the door wasn't… you know… he?" I uttered my suspicion. I didn't have to ask whether she had also assumed that it had been the Phantom, for I knew the answer. One look at her flushed cheeks told me all I needed to know.
She shook her head.
"Jean told me he had something else to do first," she muttered quickly, looking down at her feet. "But maybe… maybe he'll come here or to Meg's house later."
I didn't have time to react to that less-than-pleasant revelation, for Philippe blurted out:
"Who will come here? One of the bad men?".
He looked around wildly, as if searching for a way of escaping. His eyes were wide with fear. Quickly I bent down and wrapped my arms around his trembling body, feeling a rush of protectiveness for this little person… as well as a rush of pain as he clung to my injured shoulder.
"Of course not," I assured him. "All the bad men are in prison. They're being watched by many policemen, and they can't come out. You don't have to worry."
"I wasn't talking about one of them, but about Uncle Erik," Christine added, somewhere above us.
At once, Philippe let go of me and turned around to face his mother.
"Uncle Erik?" he repeared excitedly. "He'll come here? When?"
"I don't know," Christine replied. "Jean couldn't tell me either. I guess he'll be here as soon as he has the time to come."
They went on chatting about Uncle Erik, but I didn't listen. I felt like screaming. Philippe had had the Phantom all the time for the last days, and still he missed him the moment he was gone, even though I was here. I was the boy's father, for Heaven's sake! How could this man mean more to him than I did?
I left my wife and son to their happy little conversation and went over to greet Jean. Antoinette seemed to be finished with her story, and I quickly seized the chance to talk before she'd introduce another topic.
"Good evening, Jean," I addressed him. Sensing boring adult talk, my daughter walked away, to Larisse and Marielle. "So you know about everything now?" I jerked my head into Antoinette's direction.
"Oh yes," Jean answered with a kind smile at her. "It was very interesting. The Opera Ghost had already told me a few things, but he didn't go into detail. But then, he is a very busy man. I was glad that he talked to me at all."
I saw the dreamy expression on Jean's face and could hardly suppress a groan. How could I have forgotten that I was talking to another admirer of the Phantom? It was simply absurd. A grown-up man who listened to fantastic tales like a little child! And now that he had actually met the protagonist of all those tales in person, the admiration seemed to have grown even stronger. Ridiculous…
If I had been able to do so, I'd have walked away again, yet in the middle of a conversation, that wouldn't have been very friendly. So I merely muttered:
"Yes, he's a very busy man," and changed the subject. "Will we all be able to stay with you then?" I asked him. "If you don't have enough space, we can go to a hotel, of course. Or we can stay here. I'm sure Mme. de Gableaux wouldn't mind."
"You'll stay with us," Jean said. "I've already discussed it all with Christine. The only thing she didn't know was whether your servants will come with you. That's why we brought them here."
"There's only one way to find out," I told him, eager to talk about anything that didn't concern the Phantom. "Could you all listen to me for a moment, please?" I called loudly. Every head turned into my direction, and the other conversations stopped. "We were just talking about where we'll stay. Christine, the children and I will go with M.Tavoire here, but where the rest of you wants to stay is up to you."
"There'd also be plenty of work for you, in and around the house" Jean added. "Our housekeeper isn't able to do much at the moment, for she has had an accident. So you don't have to worry that you won't have anything do to."
"I'll come with you then," Larisse decided. "It sounds just like the right kind of work for me. I couldn't bear sitting at home all day, doing nothing. But… as far as I know, the Tavoire estate is rather far from here, isn't it? How am I supposed to get home every evening?"
"That won't be a problem," Jean assured her. "Two of our servants live in the centre of Paris as well, and they can always take one of our coaches. You'll be able to go with them."
"Thank you, Monsieur," Larisse muttered, smiling.
"I know that we don't belong to you, but Pierre and I also need a place to stay," Marielle stated tentatively. "We don't know anyone in Paris except for friends of my father's, and they are criminals as well. We don't want to have anything to do with them." Pierre nodded in agreement. "So we'd be very grateful if we could come with you. Of course we'd work as well. I could look after the children as long as Jacqueline is in hospital, and Pierre is rather good with his hands. He could repair things…"
"You can come with us," Christine said gently. "You started belonging to us the moment you chose our side. We wouldn't leave you alone now. But do tell me: Where's Gabriel? I haven't seen him since – "
She was interrupted by the sounds coming through the open window. A loud, wild neighing, followed by a howl of pain. Christine and I exchanged a glance. Of course! We had completely forgotten the horses in our stable. And it seemed that Gabriel had not forgotten them.