Paladin82

"You're here!" Sophia squealed. "Aunt Anne!"

"So I am." Anne Giry watched the coachman remove her bag and trunk from the carriage. Her eyes scanned the estate, settling briefly on the Manor. She sighed in relief that the long and uncomfortable journey was finally over. "So I am."

"May I take your hat? Your coat? Do you need anything?"

"A good walk across the yard to stretch my legs, my dear. Really, you fuss as though I'm an old woman."

"Oh no, that isn't what I was implying. Or attempting to imply. I mean to say—"

She touched Sophia's cheek and smiled. "How long has it been since I've seen you? A hundred years could pass and I could still pick you out from a hundred doe-eyed girls. You haven't changed at all, have you?"

Sophia giggled to herself and felt her cheeks burn. "Still talking more than is necessary, I suppose."

"Oh, horsefeathers. Your brother is still strutting about like a cock in front of hens, isn't he? Reminds me of my brother. Where is Philippe, anyhow? Off barking orders, I have no doubt."

She shifted her weight. "Actually…"

"He seemed very worried in his letter to me. I packed my bags the moment I read it. I'll have you know that I don't uproot myself for just anyone."

"We're glad to have you."

They walked across the yard, leaving Gabe to gather the bags and haul them toward the house.

"How are you feeling? Your brother made it sound as though you'd taken ill."

"Oh, no. I—"

"Your complexion is pallid."

"Oh, well, I—"

"Haven't you been eating? You're much too thin. I remember when you and Meg were children. It was easy to tell the difference between the two of you—her and her dancer's body—you and your milkmaid hips. You were always so sturdy, so strong. Men look for that in a wife, don't they?"

Sophia felt herself blush. She shrugged. "I…I don't know."

"No offers yet?" Aunt Ann lifted a brow.

"None I would consider."

A smile spread across her aunt's face. She squeezed Sophia's hand. "There's the witty girl I came to see. You haven't been feeling well, have you?"

"I'm feeling better now."

"Now that I'm here." She embraced Sophia and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, enough formal salutations, my dear girl, tell me everything." She stood back and looked Sophia over. "Once we're inside, of course."

Sophia smiled. "I simply can't believe you're here, Aunt Anne. It's been so long since I've seen you. How is Meg?"

"Dancing in Prague. She was accepted immediately into the academy—with a recommendation from the de Chagnys, naturally."

Sophia furrowed her brow. "I apologize, but I'm not familiar with them."

Her aunt raised a brow. "No?"

She shook her head.

"You have never heard the name? De Chagny? Raoul and Philippe, the Vicomte and Comte de Chagny."

"Perhaps my brother has heard the name. He reads an awful lot in the newspapers from Paris—"

"Let's leave your brother out of this, shall we?" She smoothed Sophia's hair and brushed lint from her blouse. "A moment of tea and talk between women is exactly what I need after such a long journey."

"That sounds lovely."

Aunt Anne sighed. "Honestly, Philippe couldn't have asked me to visit at a better time. The opera house is in shambles, the city…it's become a hellish place. The siege may be over, but it's too much to bear."

Sophia pursed her lips. She hadn't read much in the newspapers and had only heard bits and pieces from her brother. Though the siege had ended late in January, she hadn't realized that months later the effects would continue to linger.

"I'm glad you're here."

"So am I. Now, let's go inside." She looked to the windows again and paused. "How is he?"

"I beg your pardon? Erik?"

Her aunt smiled as they approached the front door. "Yes," she said. "Erik. Is that what he still calls himself?"

"Does he change his name often? Or did he refuse to be called Monsieur Belmont when he lived in Paris?"

"I doubt he needed a name while he lived in Paris," Aunt Anne said under her breath.

"Pardon me?"

"I've worried about him living here, far from…everything. How is he?

"Occupied."

-o-

"Occupied with what?" Madame Giry asked incredulously.

The sound of her voice made Erik smile inwardly as he started down the stairs. It had been a long time since he'd heard her speak with authority.

The last three years of her ballet career were the undisputed highlight of her life (save for her daughter and late husband). He still remembered how he'd watch her from his box, the young soloist. It was the only time he had seen her since she'd moved from the dormitories into a quiet apartment closer to the managers' offices. Her room was built on a slab, which meant there was no way to walk through tunnels to see her. The mirror in her room faced the outer wall, giving him no entrance. With the start of a brilliant career had come the end of their friendship.

"With his music," Sophia answered. "He's a beautiful musician. I'm no music critic, but he's written several pieces that I just adore."

"He's still composing?"

"Every day from the moment he wakes until he goes to bed—if he chooses to sleep."

"You rarely see him, then?"

"I see him…on occasion." She stared at the floor and moved her foot across the rug. "He's teaching me to play the piano. But honestly,his time is better spent writing than teaching me. He really is amazing—at least I think he is. But I suppose I don't really know since I haven't met anyone else who...well…you understand."

"Ah, yes. He is very good at writing music. Composing must keep him from making a fuss."

Sophia gave a nervous chuckle. "You're simply terrible, Aunt Anne."

"A fuss indeed, Madame," he muttered under his breath as he stomped down the last two steps.

Both women turned to face him. Sophia licked her lips and smiled while Anne Giry took a step back.

"Erik," Anne said. The arrogance in her tone had slipped away. It was as though she suddenly remembered how powerful he was—and what a terror to her life he'd been. He felt like stepping away from her as well.

"Madame Giry," he said stiffly.

She met his eye with an expression that equaled his formality. "Your home is just as beautiful in the winter as it was in the summer."

He nodded and linked his hands behind his back. "Suitable."

"And not a worry here for you, I imagine. You have my niece to care for your home, my nephew to look after the grounds."

"True." His hands clenched as he waited for her to mention the previous owner. Surely she knew Madame Belmont's current whereabouts or how she could be contacted. Nights at the overseer's house had given him little information.

"Well, then…" Her eyes widened, her gaze trained directly behind him. "My God," she whispered. "That's the biggest dog I've ever seen."

Fidelio stood beside Erik, his tail wagging and neck stretched out to sniff the new guest, who was now hiding partially behind her niece.

"Oh, he's friendly. You're liable to have him lick you to death rather than bite you, isn't that right?" Sophia asked Erik.

"So far." He patted the dog on the head and rubbed his neck. "But he's still a pup."

"He's going to be taller than you when he's an adult," Sophia commented.

Their eyes met briefly before he turned his attention back to the dog. He could see Madame watching him carefully, judging his every move, listening to each word he spoke. If she was protective of her dancers, he assumed she was even more so toward a member of her family.

"I had better train him well, then," he said under his breath.

"Before he trains you." Sophia laughed to herself.

He glanced at her again and found her smiling, which made him grunt. "I may have already lost."

Madame Giry tapped her cane on the floor, which made Fidelio jump back. He sniffed the unfamiliar object once his master patted his head and reassured him that the stranger meant no harm.

"He's fortunate he lives here," she said as Fidelio sniffed her shoes. "Four months ago he would have ended up beside Castor and Pollux."

"The Greek gods?" Sophia asked.

"Elephants," Erik corrected. "Two of the most beloved animals in Paris were taken from the zoo and slaughtered."

She wrinkled her nose and called Fidelio to her side. "That's repulsive."

"That's survival," Madame Giry corrected.

"No one would want to eat you, would they, Fidelio? All that hair of yours. Yuck. And you're too handsome and sweet, aren't you?" she cooed, which excited the dog so much that he apparently didn't notice how his tail whipped his master in the shins.

Citrine tapped on the door frame. "You must be Madame Giry," she said brightly. "I'll bring tea to the parlor immediately." She looked to Erik and turned her head to the side. "Your salt lick is almost finished cooking."

"Fine." He crossed his arms and took a step back to avoid Fidelio's tail. However, once he heard Citrine moving pots and pans in the kitchen, he abandoned affection for the promise of food.

"He likes you," Madame Giry said.

Erik glanced up and saw her staring at Sophia, who was busy brushing dog hair from her skirt.

"He should love me," Sophia said. "I give him half my supper."

Anne Giry stared at Erik briefly before she looked away. "Ah, yes, I do believe the dog likes you as well."