Sorry about the cliffhanger last time! And the long wait! More fluff in this chapter! YAY!

Just for the record, I am very neutral on the abortion debate. The opinions expressed in this chapter are those of people that would have lived a couple centuries earlier than the current date. The whole surgical procedure would have been far more dangerous and frowned upon than it is presently. Please to not send me angry emails. That would be rash. Like Will Turner. Though that might encourage some of you. So just don't flame me, and don't pretend to be Orlando Bloom. Even though he has big, cute, brown, puppy eyes that could make anyone melt. (cough) On to the story.

Chapter 18: Arguments and Amends

Erik dropped his fork. Armand froze. Genevieve looked genuinely confused. Henri turned ghostly white. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, making little "umm, uh" noises.

"You're pregnant." He said finally, after much gaping stupidly.

"As I said."

"But how?" Genevieve demanded. "You're not married. Don't you have to be married to have babies?"

"Genny, you haven't slept much today. I'm exhausted. Let's go upstairs and take a little nap." Armand managed to say. The little girl was about to protest, but then decided there was no use. As Armand led her out of the room, Henri gave him a very grateful look. Erik noticed all the maids that had been cleaning had disappeared.

Even when there were only three of them, it took a while before they began a real conversation. There was an awkward silence for a very long time. Erik couldn't believe it. He had guessed what sort of thing kidnappers did to their victims. He had also calculated the chances of conception. They weren't high. But it had happened, anyway. Of course.

All of them knew how very difficult a situation this was. Madeline was not married. If she had her baby before she was wed she would be shunned by the vast majority of society. Even if she had her child any less than seven and a half months after the wedding, everyone that had known the date of the ceremony would likely avoid her. That gave about six weeks to find a fiancé. Both the men were thinking about this.

"Abortion is an option." Madeline pointed out.

"No." her father snapped immediately.

"Papa-"

"Madeline, have you any idea what that would entail? I am not going to let some crazed traveling surgeon butcher my daughter with a knitting needle on our kitchen table!"

"I know what it entails, Papa! But what am I supposed to do? Let myself be hated for the rest of my life. Allow the world to consider me no better than the soil they walk on?"

The family members glared at each other angrily. Erik interrupted the spat.

"Your father is right. An abortion is too dangerous. There's a massive risk of infection. Also, the procedure is illegal, not to mention excruciatingly painful. There would be no medicine to dull any pain you had."

"And you could be left infertile. We only want-" Henri added, and then was cut off mid-sentence.

"I know, I know. You only want what's best for me." Madeline grunted, obviously defeated. "It was only an idea. A stupid idea, clearly. But what shall I do, then?"

There was a pause.

"You shall have to get married."

"To whom? Oh, I'm not ready for this!" Madeline seemed close to tears. Henri felt a bit guilty, but he had to be straight with her. He decided none of them were strong enough to discuss the issue, not today.

"Listen, I don't think this is the best time. We all need to think. Perhaps in a few days, when we can think clearly, we shall speak again. For now, we all need to get some rest." He got to his feet and limped out of the room.

Erik was watching him. It startled him went he felt a weight on his chest. He looked down to see the young woman once again crying into his shirt. This time, he decided he would try to hug her. He wrapped his arms around her. It was not an action he was familiar with. It seemed to be the right thing to do, though, because Madeline calmed a bit.

"Maddi?"

Madeline looked up at him. He cupped her face in his hands. Uncertainty nipped at his thoughts like a yappy little lap dog. Did normal lovers always do that? Were they really lovers? Yes. Erik remembered the kiss they had shared. That meant something. It had not been the reluctant kiss Christine had given him in the lair. This was better.

"I know this is hard." there was understanding and kindness in Erik's voice. It was totally new to him. He was silent with shock for a brief moment, and then carried on. "I think your father is correct once again. We need some time to recuperate. To think. Maybe after a few nights' sleep we'll be prepared to discuss the issue for a second time." He kissed her forehead lightly and the two walked upstairs together. They separated without saying a word.

---

The snow was melting. It had been a particularly cold winter, and everyone in Paris was glad to see it finally come to an end. It had been two days since her return, and Madeline was feeling much better. Of course, she would not feel normal for a long time, possibly never, but it felt glorious to sleep in a real bed and eat proper meals again. Her foot was beginning to heal and she could walk quite well on her own, so she decided to take a stroll around the grounds of Brunet manor.

She had woken up very early, just before sunrise. It seemed that everyone was sleeping except for the odd servant, so she ate a quick breakfast and began her exploration of the dewy gardens. She was sure to bring her sketchbook with her.

Madeline had forgotten how beautiful those gardens were. Although the bushes had not yet regained their foliage, they were covered in a light frost and were glittering in the first slow rays of the sun. The pine trees that dotted the yard were much the same, shining and perfect. She remembered how much Armand loved the outdoors. She also remembered the way to what was possibly her favorite place in Paris, and it happened to be within a two minutes' walk. Madeline turned down a path to her left.

It was a divine sight. A medium-sized pond surrounded by fresh, dewy pines. Two swans swam side by side. They lived on the ground all year round, and were given food, so there was no need for them to migrate. The ducks still left, though. They would not return for a week or two yet. Despite that, Madeline swelled with joy looking at the place. It was serine and quiet. The water was glass smooth and was only disturbed by the swan's paddling. She knew she had to keep her distance from the fowl. They could be very violent if they felt angry or threatened. But this risk only made the place more appealing because it was forbidden. Most things that people found refuge or comfort in were forbidden somehow. If you fell in love with someone of the same gender, you were separated and beaten. If you indulged in intoxicants you could kill yourself slowly without even knowing. If you sang or made music to calm yourself, there would always be someone to tell you to shut up or quiet down. Madeline's comfort was not quiet as serious, but carried the same concept. If she came to close to the pool, she could easily loose a finger, and her pride. The idea of being maimed by a domesticated water bird made her smile.

Also, this place was her Eden. She didn't want to be Eve.

The young woman settled on a flat rock that protruded from the ground and removed her shoes. Her right foot had been a squished between the leather and the bandage, so it was a relief to feel the cool grass between her toes. As she stretched her tired limbs, her mind wandered to another forbidden pleasure: the knowledge that deep inside of her, unmarred and unhindered by the world's cruelty and intolerance, her unborn child was growing. It was a forbidden love because the child was the son or daughter of a rapist and his victim, borne by a slave who had unwillingly received and always would carry a criminal's seed. She thought about the argument her father had had with her. He had only mentioned what an abortion would do to the mother. Burn, mutilate, possibly kill. He never had referred to the life inside of her. Not like he considered it a life, anyway.

She had not spoken to Genevieve, Armand, or Henri since they learned of her pregnancy. She suspected someone had given her sister "The Talk", because now the little girl gave her older sibling terrified yet sympathetic looks whenever they passed each other in the halls or sat across the table at mealtimes.

Only Erik had remained with her, and they had grown closer and more intimate than Madeline had ever been with her former fiancé. She had told him about her life, and he about his. They found they both liked music, horses, fires, warmth, and were determined workers. Erik was awkward sometimes, though, with even the most common signs of affection. He had never held hands with anyone before, for example, so when Madeline had grasped his fingers in hers the man had recoiled for a moment. She realized in the past, when people grabbed him it would have meant they wanted him to stay put so they could yell at or even hit him.

The mother-to-be had come to love her developing infant because in a way, she was never alone. Before now when she was not with Erik she would be in her room crying. Sometimes she would sob for herself, sometimes for her lover, and sometimes for everyone and no one at the same time. But in the midst of her infinite sorrow she would feel something move, so slightly it was almost impossible to feel, so tiny it was barely possible to imagine, inside her. She liked to think it was her child trying to console her. It was reminding her that it was there, it needed her. She couldn't brake down now. It hadn't even entered the world yet. Madeline decided that even though it sounded cliché and corny, that's how she felt, and nobody needed to know. Maybe when she was in wedlock, she would tell her husband. For now, though, it was her secret.

Madeline realized that as she had been thinking, she had begun to sketch unconsciously. There was herself, with a newborn in her arms. She was wearing her favorite dress with her shiny cross necklace and best hat and coat, like what she would wear to mass on a late autumn morning. The child was so young, no more than a few days old. It was wrapped in a blanket and all that was visible was the sleeping face and bald head, so it didn't appear to be male or female. She had started to draw her husband with his arm around her, but right now she only had half his torso drawn. She already knew who it was, anyway.

"Madeline!" the voice startled her. She snapped her sketch book closed and turned her head so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. Armand was walking down the path toward her. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"No. Not at all."

He settled down beside her, sitting on his cloak. His wounded arm had been in a sling for a few days, since it hurt his to move it, therefore it had often been in the way. The burn on his face had healed well. It was about as normal as it ever be again, and Madeline had to admit he was looking rather handsome. He unclasped his cloak with his good hand and let it slip off his shoulders and into the damp grass.

"It's getting warmer now. The snow's almost all gone."

"Hmm." She replied. The girl was nervous about talking to him. They hadn't had a real conversation since the night at the opera house that had changed so many lives.

"Were you drawing?"

"Trying to." She wasn't going to tell him about her unfinished picture. It was a bit embarrassing.

"I remember you showing me some of your work once. It was very impressive."

Madeline blushed. "Merci." She said quietly.

"How's your foot?"

"It's getting better." She wiggled her toes a bit, as if she needed to reassure herself that it was true.

"I didn't think you would be able to walk down here. But a guess you're getting better faster than I thought." She shrugged.

"It was really slow at first, but for the past couple of days it's been so rapid, the doctor who saw me yesterday couldn't believe it." She was getting more confident. "How about you're arm?"

He sighed. "I wish I was getting along as well as you are, but it got a bit infected when it was still fresh and now it hasn't healed at all."

"That's too bad."

"It's quite irritating. I can still ride, but I can not lift many things. And I'm right handed. I can't even write!" He shifted a bit. "It's always sore. But it's not too bad. I got some medicine that I started taking today that might help."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

There was a pause. Madeline wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything. Armand had something to say, she could tell, but he couldn't find good words to say it with. After a few minutes the man found his tongue.

"I came down here for a reason, Madeline." He began. "I know you love this spot. We came here regularly when . . . before the fire." He stumbled and needed to find his ground again. She waited patiently for him to continue. "I wanted to tell you . . . well, I want to let you know that . . . I don't want you to feel pressured. You know, to marry me. Look, what I mean to say is that I know you don't love me, so I don't think you and I should be together if you do not wish it. I think you should marry Erik." Armand bit his lip. He was mentally slapping himself for saying that last sentence out loud.

Madeline was not angry with her companion, as he thought.

"No, don't fret, Armand, you are right. I love Erik. You and I are friends and friends only. It means very much to me that you would come to say this to me." She leaned over and kissed his gently on his cheek, proving to him there were no hard feelings between them.

So that's that. I've noticed that some of the middle chapters seemed rather flat to me. They lacked description. I felt unsatisfied after I wrote them, but I couldn't find a place to change them for the better. If you felt the same way, I hope this makes up for it.

REVIEW MY ANGELS OF READING!!!