"We're here Meg." Andrew said, shaking Meg awake gently as they docked at the London port. She woke up and groaned. The entire ride had been a nightmare, as she was seasick and pregnant all at once, though she could not deny she loved the way Andrew had been doting on her since she'd revealed her condition to him. They went straight to the elegant hotel that he had booked a room for them in and as she bathed he changed his clothes. She sank into the warm sweet smelling water, lost in her thoughts and forever grateful to be off of that awful boat. She thought of ballet...a bittersweet thought since she would not be dancing for a good long while. She pressed her small hand to her flat abdomen, resting her head against the rim of the tub.
"Meg dear?" Andrew's voice came from the doorway. She craned her neck to see him fully dressed.
"I want you to relax...I don't want any more stress on my wife and unborn child..." He said, crouching beside the tub and kissing her moist cheek. Sighing, he said, "I am afraid I must meet someone in the city tonight...a business acquaintance." He said and she looked at him, hurt.
"Andrew...this was to be our honeymoon." She said, knowing full well she sounded like a needy little dolt. He looked at her as one looks in annoyance at a child who is a nuisance.
"I promise, this is the only separation we shall have to bear." He said, kissing her lips. She nodded, resignedly.
"Of course...I am sorry...do forgive me dear..." She said, looking down. "It must be the hormones." He smiled, but she couldn't help but wonder if he was really smiling or humoring her.
"I will see you later tonight love." He said and when she next turned around, he was gone.
Tired of the bath, she pulled herself out and drew her dressing gown around herself, padding to the lovely bed and falling into it. Suddenly, as she looked around the empty quiet room, she realized she sorely missed Christine and wished she had someone to talk to. She'd even settle for Brett Reynolds, who drove her mad. Yet, there was no denying his keen ability to make her giggle like an idiot and his eyes. Those crystal clear blue sky eyes...not at all like the sapphire blue of Andrew's which were dark and stormy. In all her life she didn't think she'd ever seen a more sincere pair of eyes. With a great sigh of frustration, she looked outside, where it was still light and decided to take some air. She pulled on a comfortable pink dress and slippers and tied her hair back in a ribbon.
Like a fairy walking on air, she glided down the carpeted hallways of the hotel, thanking her years of ballet training for making her graceful. As she scanned the lobby, she saw Andrew huddled in a corner with a strange looking man and as his head turned her way, she ducked behind a pillar, only peering out again after a moment. It looked as if they were negotiating something and when Andrew handed him a large sum of English money, she knew that had come to some sort of an agreement. She was sure it was nothing more than business, but somehow a horrible feeling crept into the pit of her stomach and she suddenly needed to be sick again and found herself doubled over and heaving into a nearby plant as passers by stopped to gape and whisper.
"Meg?" Andrew's voice called to her as she wiped her mouth, embarrassed.
"I...I needed air...and then it came and the plant...and...oh...I am so horrified." She cried, burying her face in her hands. His arm came around her as he looked apologetically at the disgusted staff and customers.
"Pregnant." He explained in perfect English and everyone seemed to relax. He led her back up to the room and she was grateful to be once again hidden within those four walls. He was gentle with her and she knew he was frustrated, mortifying her further.
"Rest Meg. You and the child must rest." He said, as he pulled her slippers and dress back off and left her in her favorite nightgown. Adjusting her covers around her, she had instantly fallen asleep as he moved to the desk to begin his letter to Jacqueline...
So it went for the next month and a half that Meg was extremely ill and bed ridden most of the trip. A few rare occasions the sickness would subside and she and Andrew were able to walk outside or take lunch in a nice restaurant. One such night, they even went to the London Opera to watch a production of Il Muto. Meg had to admit, it was much different from the observer's point of view than the performer's and it reminded her of how sorely she missed the opera. As the trip had gone on, in the second month of their stay, her clothes began to tighten and she had begun to wear some of the maternity dresses that she had bought herself. She still did not look like a pregnant women, but it made her realize just how tiny she had been from all of her training.
The night of the opera was the night she felt the first movement within her. October the seventh. It was during the second act, she was laughing quite hard at the raucous comedy of the story when she felt a sensation almost like a soft caress...but it was from the inside of her. The next time it happened almost two minutes later, and this one was a more definite jab. She glanced over at her husband, who seemed completely bored and confused with what was going on in the story.
"Andrew." She whispered as he looked over at her, thankful to draw his eyes away from the obnoxious woman onstage.
"Yes dear?" He asked and she smiled.
"He moved." She said. She'd decided to call the baby a he to please Andrew. He nodded, seeming a bit uninterested.
"That's lovely dear." He said, turning his attention to the lithe beauty playing the pageboy. A redhead.
Meg frowned, biting her lip. He'd just brushed her off like some insistent child to pay attention to the girl onstage. She blinked furiously as tears flooded her blue eyes and her lip began to quiver. Somehow, she'd thought he would be more interested in the progress of their baby. He must have heard her sniff, because he was instantly asking her what was the matter.
"Nothing...forget it." She said, biting the inside of her cheek. He sighed, frustrated.
"Meg...I'm in no mood for childish games. Please be a good girl and tell me what is wrong." He said and she glared at him.
"Oh nothing! You just don't care about this child at all. You've hardly shown interest since I first told you about it!" She retorted, a bit loudly for a few people in a nearby box turned to hush them, annoyed and muttering about the rude French.
"Meg...if you would be so kind as to join me in the hall." Andrew hissed, giving her no choice in the matter and pulling her into the hall. "Are you absolutely mad woman?" He asked, backing her against the wall. For the first time, she was truly afraid of what he might do to her.
"What are you going to do Andrew?" She challenged, swallowing her fear. "Would you strike your pregnant wife?" He backed away then, realizing himself and grabbed her hands.
"Meg...I'm sorry. I've just been on edge. I had a surprise for you and nothing has been going right and I just feel awful. Tell me, my dear, what I may do to make it up to you?" He asked, the hardness going from his eyes. She broke then, and sobbed into his coat.
"Perhaps you could actually show some interest in your son..." She cried, clutching him. His hand drifted to her middle, almost dutifully as she guided him to the place she had felt the movements. Sure enough...there was a small flutter. He smiled.
"Yes...my son. My heir." He said, pulling Meg to him. "Yes dear Meg...what hope you have brought me."
Christine was waiting for Meg and Andrew to emerge with Antoinette
on the day they were due home. Meg had written to let them know and she had told her about feeling the baby move for the first time and informed them all that she would be a bit fuller looking. Christine doubted that there would be much of a difference in just under two months, but sure enough, Meg's face had filled out and her waist was not as defined as it had been when she had last seen her. Of course, Meg still did not look like a woman who was pregnant, but a woman who carried a bit more weight than a ballet dancer. She definitely had grown from the child she'd been only seven months before...on the night of Don Juan Triumphant. It seemed, that night, that she had become a young woman and not a girl. Christine knew that when Meg came upon the lair that night, it hadn't settled with her and though they'd never discussed it, she could tell Meg was haunted by the images she'd seen five stories below the opera.
"Christine!" The small chipper voice cried as the blonde woman dropped the bag she'd been carrying and literally jumped into Christine's waiting arms. Laughing, Christine spun her around and stumbled as she set her on her feet before she ran straight to her mother.
"My goodness Meg! I hardly recognized you!" She said, as Meg stood up on her toes and whispered.
"He moves now!" Annie nodded.
"So you said. You've grown so already!" There was a small but definite curve to her now. Andrew met up with them after securing their luggage in the carriage. He kissed Christine's hand and kissed Madame Giry's cheek politely.
"I trust you ladies are well." He said as Christine eyed him. On the outside, he was the image of a caring husband. Handsome, polite, pleasant. Yet, she knew there was darkness under the sapphire of those eyes.
The ride to the Chagny's was pleasant enough. Andrew was silent mostly, as Meg and Christine chattered about the baby and other things. As they pulled up to the Chagny's, Andrew sighed and said,
"Meg, I think it would be best if you stayed here for a bit. I have to go to the office for a bit." She began to protest, but he hushed her with his lips.
"I shall pick you up within two or three hours." He said and she nodded.
"I suppose that would be fine." She said as Raoul came running out and helped all three women from the carriage. Meg kissed Andrew's cheek quickly before taking Raoul's hand.
"Thank you." She said as he gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and escorted all three of them into the house.
"You look well, dear Meg." Raoul said as they sat down for tea in the sitting room. She nodded.
"I feel much better now that I am home. I was ghastly ill for practically the entire trip." She replied, sipping at her tea. Christine shook her head.
"I couldn't imagine...I am incredibly not at all ready to be a mother." She said with a giggle. Meg sighed.
"Neither am I...it was so strange. On our wedding night the only thing Andrew said to me before we...well, we...you know...he said he wanted a son, and that was that." Raoul's head shot up at this. Of course he'd heard the whispers between all of his friends and Roxana, but he hadn't really wanted to believe Andrew would use someone to breed him an heir for his money. It was disgusting.
"Excuse me ladies..." He said, kissing Christine on the cheek as he left the room. He stepped into his study and locked the door behind him. "Alright Andrew...why would you want to kill Justin?"
Tiredly, Roxana sat gazing at her young son, who was now three years old. Tomorrow would be the third anniversary of Justin's death. It was always a hard day for her. She still couldn't bring herself to go to his grave because the sight of the gravestone only reminded her that he was truly gone. Andrew and Meg had returned. She and Erik had him walking into his office earlier that day as they'd left the grocery. She bit her lip sadly as she tried to remember a time when he had been a decent man. What had changed him so and why?
Growing up, the brothers had always been good friends being five years apart. Andrew had always been the popular one while Justin had been more reserved, more artistic. Their mother and father were good people, his father's father had earned every penny growing grapes and making every bottle of wine himself until he had created a successful franchise. Andrew Westcliff Sr. had kept up his company and had hoped his boys would do the same. Andrew of course, had showed an interest in business early on, but Justin had been more difficult. It was evident very early on also that Andrew liked having a bit of an advantage over his brother. Obviously there weren't many conflicts with their parents and Andrew since he was following the path his father had planned. Justin's desire to paint had caused a bit of tension. Justin also didn't have girls flocking to him as Andrew did.
Andrew also had a taste for the finer things in life and found that most women did too. They also liked gamblers and men who liked a good party. Andrew frequented gambling and before long, he had blown the money that he'd had from his trust he'd received at thirteen. When Justin was twenty, Roxana had come home from finishing school and although she had always hung around with him, she'd never been more than a gawkish girl with big dark eyes and skinny arms. Suddenly, she was rounded and curved beautifully and her face seemed to have been carved by a master sculptor himself. She was truly unique looking and everyone knew of her Persian descent. Her skin had a beautiful bronze glow as her eyes were so dark brown they almost looked black. Her lips were full and when she smiled, sparkling white teeth were revealed. Her hair seemed like black woven silk, and gleamed in the light.
Andrew had instantly been taken with her dark beauty and had tried to woo her from the moment she'd returned, but she never showed any interest in anyone but his brother. Andrew never could understand this. All women fell over him, not Justin. True, Justin was not unattractive, but he was not as tall and nowhere near as rugged as Andrew. His looks were softer, warmer even. Andrew and Justin had shared the same eyes and hair color, though Justin's was straight and hung to the bottom of his neck while Andrew kept his trimmed and neat. The day Roxana came home was the day both Justin and Andrew realized that wanted Roxana LaCoste for their own. Of course, Justin was not the kind of man to go after a lady and Andrew made no secret of wanting Roxana, but his efforts were fruitless for she showed no interest in him other than to be his friend.
Finally when he was twenty-one, Justin had painted a picture of her and left it for her with a letter stating how he felt. He'd asked her to meet him near the pond in the park the next day at noon if she felt the same. Instead, she had been there before him and when he approached the park that day, she saw him talking to himself as if rehearsing what he should say and when he looked up and noticed her staring at him, his mouth fell open and he began to stutter.
"Roxana, I...I didn't think...I thought...I mean..." He stopped, embarrassed. A smile played at her lips.
"Justin Westcliff, is this letter the truth?" She asked, pulling it from her pocket and holding it up. He nodded dumbly.
"Roxy...I've loved you since we were children, I just always thought...I mean...girls...they don't usually want me." He said and she still stayed a short distance from him.
"That's not true Justin. One girl did..." She said. "I wanted you. There was never anyone else. Not even in the country at school...all of the girl's had beaus and I had my letters to you." He sighed.
"What about my brother?" He asked her and she shrugged.
"What about him? Justin, I like your brother enough. He is a nice man, but he is not for me..." She said. Justin sighed.
"I never was good at this." He said and she laughed.
"It's only me! We've known each other for years. I'm still the same girl...I've just grown up!" She held her arms out to him and he took her hands tentatively.
"Roxy, would you marry me?" He asked her suddenly and she gasped.
"Justin! We haven't even courted..." She giggled and he shook his head.
"I don't care...marry me Roxy!" He cried and she shook her head in disbelief.
"My father is going to kill you!" She said and he suddenly looked very satisfied.
"Not today he isn't...I've already asked his permission!" Justin replied, satisfied with himself. She laughed again.
"Well you're just full of surprises! Yes, I will marry you!" She said as he pulled out the ring from his pocket and slid it on her finger.
"It's not much, but I bought it myself." He said as she admired it. True, it was rather average sized, but she was not one for gawdy baubles.
"This is strange...engaged and we have never even kissed." She laughed and he finally breathed before stepping forward.
"Allow me to remedy that." He said and before she said anything else, his lips were pressed to hers and she was smiling against his lips. Unknown to them, someone else had seen this entire scene and was now peering at the new couple from his hiding place behind a large tree. Anger and jealousy coursed through his veins. She was supposed to love me... He thought bitterly, I was ready to love her and she loves him instead...she was supposed to be mine...
"Roxana? Are you still awake?" Erik appeared at the door of Jamie's room in just the comfortable cotton pants he wore to sleep in. He wore no shirt and his mask had already taken it's nightly place on the night table in his bedroom. She sighed, kissing James as she pulled his covers over him and joined Erik in the hall.
"Just thinking." She said sadly and he pulled her in to embrace her.
"I know it's hard Roxana...I know it." He said, remembering she'd told him about the impending anniversary of her husband's death. She sniffed back the tears.
"I'll live." She sobbed as he kissed the top of her head.
"Come on sweetheart...you need to rest." He said as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into her room, laying on the bed beside her. His own bedroom was now just the spare room as he never slept in there anymore. As she cried, he realized how exhausted she was because the next time he looked down at her she was fast asleep, a stray tear running down over her nose and onto his bare chest.
"You're going to be alright..." He said and turned out the lamp.