They had been traveling for hours. The afternoon sun had faded, a gray overcast now hung in the sky, early twilight was setting in. Joseph slowed the carriage down as they entered the tiny city. In just a few more hours they would be near their destination, a warm bath and hot supper. For now he needed to water and rest his horses, and stretch a bit himself. He pulled the carriage in to the first part of the city, stopping to inquire where he might rest his horses. After receiving directions, he turned the carriage around, and headed a few blocks to the East, before coming to a stop in front of an Inn. The manager motioned him to the back toward the stables.
Erik woke, stretching slightly, sensing Christine was now lying down in his lap. Looking beneath his cloak she reminded him of a small child who would come to rest in their father's lap..he smiled. Reaching over to the window, he pushed the heavy velvet curtain aside to reveal the gray sky with hints of blood orange and deep blue on the horizon. He knew they had to be at least most of the way there as the trees were growing larger, the streets narrower, and the houses were farther apart.
Meg and Madame Giry were no doubt still very tired as they slept as did Christine. There was knock at the door of the carriage, then the handle turned, a cool breeze swirling, breaking in the warm recesses of the carriage. Madame Giry's eyes opened, she straightened herself immediately, sorting out the folds of her dress. She reached over and put a hand on Meg's shoulder, the same way she'd been waking her up for nearly all of her life.
Joseph peered inside "anyone in need of a stretch? My legs are aching so I thought maybe yours would too." Joseph chuckled, realizing that he had woken everyone up. "The horses will be resting for a wee bit, so if you'd like a cup of tea, it would be a good time to do it."
Erik nodded, and Joseph shut the door. He could hear the officers dismounting, and leading the horses into the stables for water and rest. Madame Giry was digging in her travel case, pulling up the bottom and retrieving several francs. Meg sat still half asleep, stretching briefly, rather informally until she realized that Erik was staring at her. "I'm so sorry, I.." Meg mumbled, looking rather embarrassed.
"You are with family my dear, no apology is needed." Erik smiled at her. "We will all grow to be more comfortable with one another…in time." Meg smiled and nodded politely. A concerned look on her face she said "is Christine alright?" Erik chuckled a bit, raising the edge of his cloak to peek in at Christine who was now starting to stir. "Yes, the little kitten seems to be just waking now, having slept in my lap for some time."
Christine pulled herself up on Erik's shoulder, peering out from under his thick cloak. "Are we there….but it's still light?" Erik kissed her softly on the forehead, the most affection he'd ever shown her in the company of others. Meg and Madame Giry averted their eyes feeling as though they'd intruded on a private moment.
"No, we've stopped so that the horses might rest." Erik replied. "We can go in for a pot of tea if you'd like?" Erik offered, looking among the three women for some indication as to their wishes.
Madame Giry said "I think it would be good to walk a bit. A hot cup of tea does sound wonderful." Meg nodded. Christine looked up at Erik, "is this alright with you?"
Erik realized that Christine was concerned for him. It hardly mattered now that he was in public with his face exposed. He needed to grow accustomed to this, if they were to blend in. He was not the only man to have been "injured" in the war, or the like. Some would consider him lucky, having both eyes and all his limbs would be a blessing considering what happened to some….no…it could be far worse.
Erik was lost in this thought when the carriage door opened again, this time it was Madame Giry who did so, as she and Meg made their way out of the carriage. One of the officers seeing them fumbling with the stairs, rushed over to offer their hand and guide them out. Madame Giry closed the door behind them and she and Meg walked carefully on the path to the front of the Inn.
Erik turned to Christine who was rubbing her eyes and raising her arms above her head, elbows bent for lack of room. Erik uttered a low guttural growl as he slid over embracing her. She let out a small yelp, something akin to a childish squeal when one is caught unaware. He kissed her neck, his lips tracing her jaw line until he reached her lips. She was so beautiful…so beautiful….he loved her more than life itself. Even the small things, like the sight of her stretching made his love for her swell within him. She was relaxed, at ease, and he sensed that she was exactly where her soul longed to be….with him.
They would have to snatch moments alone wherever they could find them. It wouldn't be easy, but they would relish them. Christine pulled away from Erik, wide smile across her cheeks, eyes beaming. "Stephan…my dear husband…do you not want some hot tea, perhaps a bit of supp.." Erik laughed in her ear. "Sweet nectar, my dear what I would want more now than anything is sweet nectar, but alas…it isn't the season for it…so I shall settle for a cup of tea." Christine knew what Erik was trying to say, but the situation did not permit his true words.
He whispered into her ear "my dear, when we again depart, I shall have to ask that you sit next to me, instead of lying on my lap….it is much too difficult for me to, to…."
Christine smiled, giving him a platonic peck on the cheek. "I understand my dear, it is uncomfortable for you to ride in such a manner….I shall attempt to be more thoughtful from now on." She flashed a sarcastic smile at him…darned flirting.
Erik was proud of her, she was learning the art of masterful language, perhaps by his example. This would serve her well these next days until they found themselves at home, and quite at leisure to speak their minds freely. "Come, let us join Madame Giry and Meg." Erik opened the door slightly, and at once was greeted by one of the officers who extended a hand to assist as Christine came first, followed by Erik. He noticed that neither one would look him in the face as he descended. Whether it was out of respect or fear he knew not, but it made things much easier for them. Christine had been quite clever in her suggestion to bandage his face as he did. One could only wonder then what hideousness must lie beneath those bandages if the exposed side was so frightful. Yes, it indeed helped them.
Stephan and Elizabeth moved ever so slowly up the walk that snaked around to the front of the Inn. They could see the light from the house casting colored shadows on the snow, shades of violet, crimson, gold, and a deep emerald, as the candlelight passed through the ornate stained glass panes in the formal sitting room. This was no doubt where Meg and Madame Giry were, and they would join them there.
The night air was crisp, yet not a penetrating cold that they had known for months now. One could easily tell that they were getting closer to the sea, the winters being much milder in those areas. Soon they would be where snow barely clung to the last branches, Spring nipping feverishly at its heels.
The beautiful large mahogany doors were inlaid with stained glass; Christine admired them as they climbed the wide stairs to the front door. There was something urethral about how the light shone through them. It was like walking on the warm light of a rainbow, each colored shadow making whatever it touched appear changed. She glanced over at Erik, as the splashes of color changed with their every movement. She saw the man that he was, and the handsome man he could have been if he had been born perfect.
His stature, his poise, his fluid motions now hidden because of their temporary need for disguise. She silently hoped to herself that wherever they went, one day they could have a beautiful stained glass window. She would love to bask in the glow of it with her sweet husband, dancing on moonbeams of color and light. She was a hopeless romantic…she would one day have to tell their children of that too…their mother and father….both hopeless romantics….a perfect match.
Just inside the door there was a large polished white marble fireplace, a profuse glow radiating in the large foyer. There were two large wooden staircases that spiraled on either side, leading to the sleeping suites up above. To the right there were pocket doors, inlaid with ornate beveled glass, brass rimming each pane. To the left was a large room, filled with dark oversized furniture, a silver tray of snifters on a large mahogany table, several large crystal decanters filled with amber colored liquids, and yet another fireplace with a dark hearth, heavy carved statues lay on both sides, heads of large mounted beasts filled the walls leading to an ample set of recessed shelving containing volumes of literature, great works of brilliant authors.
Eric glanced at the room to the left and then at Christine, and to the French doors leading into the room on the right, and then back to Christine. She smiled, his question obvious even to this young bride. "It is alright" she said to him, nodding toward the room on the left. "You shall have to endure many long hours in the company of woman…it would be good for you to have a few minutes of solitude."
Erik smiled at Christine, leaning down and kissing her cheek, whispering in her ear "thank you my love." They exchanged one last glance, he departing to the left and she to the right, just as the gentleman in a black suit, and pressed white shirt entered the foyer. "Madame, Monsieur" he nodded his head.
Christine opened the doors to the right, to view a beautiful room with shiny marble floors and walls, leading up to a painted ceiling filled with angels and faint clouds, flowers and blue sky. It was more beautiful than some churches she had been in, each detail carefully stroked by the artist. A long delicate table lay beneath a large gilded mirror, large vases of flowers graced either side. A silver tray of trifles, small scones, and short breads next to a small stack of floral china plates.
Christine's eyes quickly taking in all of the white lace, the fine tapestries, the dainty couches and settees. In the alcove were four small tables with chairs, suitable for teas…Meg and Madame Giry occupied the one directly in front of the stained glass window Christine had been admiring from the outside just moments before.
Madame Giry rose to greet Christine, "come Elizabeth, please join us" she motioned to the table where a teacup and saucer were set out for her and her husband. Madame Giry looked behind Christine, realizing she had closed the door behind her. "Is Stephan not joining us?" she said, looking back at Christine now. Christine smiled saying "he preferred the solitude of the gentleman's room across the way. He saw the library and decided he would allow us a few moments of privacy." They all smiled at one another, realizing in his chivalry, he was really sparing himself.
Christine chose the chair facing the windows, wanting to enjoy them as the failing light changed to a soft amber glow, the sun making a final feeble attempt to shine before it set. Madame Giry reached over and poured Christine a cup of tea. Christine smiled up at her "thank you." Meg managed to smile coyly at Christine, who returned the smile. She couldn't be mad at Meg, she never could stay mad at her for as long as they'd known each other. Madame Giry's words rung through her head… "never let the sun set upon your anger…forgive…and start again new the next day." Madame Giry broke into her thoughts "cream or lemon dear?" Christine smiled at her, "neither thank you."
The women sat enjoying a few cookies, and a second pot of tea as the first was fully drunk. The room seemed to surround them in a serene envelope, and they enjoyed one another's company like they did in the old days when Christine would join Meg and her mother for tea in her dressing room.
Erik selected a thick black leather chair in front of the fire, removing his cloak, he laid it on the back of it. He wished he could say for certain that he was entirely alone, how he longed to stretch to his full height, and reach the leather bound volumes on the top shelf. Alas he looked at them, and decided to select a book from the middle shelves, one that a man his "age" could remove himself readily. He sunk into the chair, opening the cover he flipped through a few pages. "Ahhh….something familiar" he nestled in and began to read.
Tennyson, Alfred Lord . Lancelot and Elaine
1: ELAINE the fair, Elaine the
loveable,
2: Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
3: High in her
chamber up a tower to the east
4: Guarded the sacred shield of
Lancelot;
5: Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray
6: Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
7: Then
fearing rust or soilure fashion'd for it
8: A case of silk, and
braided thereupon
9: All the devices blazon'd on the shield
10:
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
11: A border fantasy
of branch and flower,
12: And yellow-throated nestling in the
nest.
13: Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
14:
Ieaving her household and good father, climb'd
15: That eastern
tower, and entering barr'd her door
16: Stript off the case, and
read the naked shield,
17: Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his
arms,
18: Now made a pretty history to herself
19: Of every
dint a sword had beaten in it,
Those words were so familiar. He'd stayed up one entire evening reading those pages from the book the Madame Giry had given him. He flipped a few more pages, selecting parts here and there….some eerily poignant. The forbidden love, the unknown love, how it grew. He read on.
In battle with the
love he bare his lord,
Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his
time.
Another sinning
on such heights with one,
The flower of all the west and all the
world,
Had been the sleeker for it: but in him
His mood was
often like a fiend, and rose
And drove him into wastes and
solitudes
For agony, who was yet a living soul.
Marr'd as he
was, he seem'd the goodliest man
That ever among ladies ate in
hall,
And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes.
However
marr'd, of more than twice her years,
Seam'd with an ancient
swordcut on the cheek,
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her
eyes
And loved him, with that love which was her doom.
How oddly he felt as he read those lines. Christine had loved him in spite of his marred face. He'd feared that love would be her doom. He couldn't tear his eyes from the prose, flipping a few more pages, he read on.
Not
far from Camelot, now for forty years
A hermit, who had pray'd,
labour'd and pray'd,
And ever labouring had scoop'd himself
In
the white rock a chapel and a hall
On massive columns, like a
shorecliff cave,
And cells and chambers: all were fair and dry;
The green light from the meadows underneath
Struck up and
lived along the milky roofs;
And in the meadows tremulous
aspen-trees
And poplars made a noise of falling showers.
And
thither wending there that night they bode.
A chill ran up Erik's spine. He stood, nearly forgetting his pretense, and walked over to the decanter and poured an inch of liquid into a glass. He stood looking into the fire before returning to the chair, the glass having never touched his lips. That burning liquid provided an induced cloud of denial, he knew it well….but he had no use for it now. He had a wife to love, a family to protect. The biting words of Tennyson ringing in his ears. How they had shaped him, how they had talked to him in the darkness. Yet he could not help but return to it, a temptation he could not resist. He lifted the book, and began again.
But when the next day broke from
underground,
And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave,
They
rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode away:
Then Lancelot
saying, 'Hear, but hold my name
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of
the Lake,'
Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant reverence,
Dearer
to true young hearts than their own praise,
But left him leave to
stammer, 'Is it indeed?'
And after muttering 'The great
Lancelot,'
At last he got his breath and answer'd, 'One,
One
have I seen that other, our liege lord,
The dread Pendragon,
Britain's King of kings,
Of whom the people talk mysteriously,
He will be there then were I stricken blind
That minute, I
might say that I had seen.'
Erik closed the book. He'd had all he could take. How he shared in this struggle, this pain. He rose walking to the shelf, putting the book back in its place. "Lancelot…." He muttered under his breath. "He had the courage to turn away the young beauty that loved him, in hopes of saving her…"
Erik felt guilt, for the first time he felt guilty for taking Christine from the safety of the world she knew in order to satisfy the desires of his own heart. He could have pushed her away, nay, could have disappeared, and just watched as she grew and married another more suited for the world.
He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. Erik turned sharply as he realized he was no longer alone in the room. "Good evening sir" came a voice from the shadowy door leading to the servant's kitchen. "Might I bring you something to eat?"
Erik relaxed and raised his hand to cover his heart as an older gentleman would do. "Why yes thank you. A bit of bread and meat would suffice." The man bowed slightly and disappeared behind the swinging door.
Erik marveled at how the door blended into the wall. It could barely be seen, and then only if one was looking for it. He now strode over to the window that looked out at the stables behind the house. He'd wondered why he hadn't been joined by the officers, or the hansom, and quickly viewing the light in the loft above the stables realized they must have been enjoying dinner there.
Alone in this room he was reminded of another time and place, one where he had been during a brief few years when he'd ventured out of the Opera House, daring to dream of having another life.
Indeed his time in Persia had been interesting years. He'd had a study, not unlike the very one he was standing in now. A library filled with great literary works, servants at his beck and call. How quickly those years had vanished, and spare the few things he had brought back with him when he returned to the Opera House, he only had but one thing to show of his life there. A small fortune with which he purchased the home he was taking them to now. He had paid to have it managed while he was away, but it had been a long many years, five or more since he'd been there for more than a day's visit. He'd been so preoccupied with Christine that as she grew he visited it less and less.
Erik turned hearing the rattling behind the door in the wall, retiring to the chair. The butler appeared again with a small tray, putting it to rest next to Erik, he said "Sir, will you be requiring anything else?" Erik shook his head "no, this is fine thank you." With that the man departed through the door and Erik was alone once again.
He glanced over, the sweet smell of ham tempted his senses. There was several apples, sliced halfway through, some cheese, and a mound of thinly sliced ham, a small dish of nuts, and a hot pot of tea. "A gentleman's supper" Erik mused to himself. It was almost like being back in Persia. He lifted the green apple from the platter, slicing a piece and setting it off the edge of the knife in between his lips, the sweet sugars greeting his tongue. "Yes, most decidedly like Persia."
XXXXX
Joseph was in the stable with the four officers, now being amused by several of the boys who wrestled over the silver coin they'd have to split for assisting the men's horses. Yes, they could have split the coin for them, but this was much more entertaining. A maid had brought out soup and bread for the men, declining the ale, in favor of a hot pot of coffee with cream.
"So how long have you been in the service of De Chagny?" Joseph said, ripping off a hunk of bread, dipping it in his soup before consuming the soggy mess. The eldest of the officers, all of twenty-three, replied "good sir, we work for the King of France, it is only indirectly that we are involved with Monsieur De Chagny." Joseph laughed. "How true, you do work for the King, don't we all. But times being what they are, and De Chagny being of the influence that he is.." they all began to laugh, knowing how true the words of Joseph were.
"We've been asked to escort his friends to their first night's lodging, and then return, that has been our order," the second officer said. "And you Sir?" The third officer said looking at Joseph who was busy wiping his bearded chin. "I am not affiliated with De Chagny, not as of yet anyway. I've been employed by the family I'm carrying, not by the De Chagny family." Joseph felt a bit liberated in his speech, the francs in his breast pocket burning in his conscious.
"I've got it, I've got it…" the boy yelled from the barn below. "Give that back to me you little fool or I'll tell mother…." The voices trailed off as the one boy chased the other from the barn. Another round of laughter splitting the conversation of the men.
XXXXX
Raoul was back at home, a warm supper was on the table. He felt hungry tonight, the first time he'd felt that way in days. His servants had prepared roasted beef, winter squash, braised cabbage, and fig pudding for dessert. A dinner that would surely please his father, it had been one of his favorites when Raoul lived at home in his youth.
Raoul was finishing dressing for dinner when there was a knock at the door. "This arrived for you sir while you were out today." His maid laid a small envelope on the table in his room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Raoul furrowed his brow. "Whoever could this be from?" A small ivory envelope, lifting it he could smell the distinct scent of rose petals, he smiled briefly. Opening it he smiled again as he began to read, "Dear Raoul, Thank you for your many kindnesses. My mother and I are most grateful for having made your acquaintance. Sara was kind enough to deliver this message to you for me, our having to depart this afternoon, I was uncertain if I would see you again before we left. My thoughts are with you as you journey through your feelings for missing Christine. I miss her very much. I can only pray that she is well and safe, as I know you do. Perhaps I shall tire of the country, and as you suggested spend a bit of time in Paris. I shall contact the name of the man you mentioned in your note when the time is right. Meg"
Raoul felt a bittersweet taste in his mouth. The love of Christine still a very fresh wound, although he was certain she was still alive somewhere, there was little to do now but wait and pray. Meg had been a true friend to her, and a recent friend to him. He wasn't sure why he felt so protective of her now…perhaps it was because she was as close as he could get to Christine, and he shared so many memories of her with Meg. He wanted Christine to be proud of him when she returned, knowing she would be most appreciative that he had looked after Meg and Madame Giry as sure as if they were family already.
He laid the note down on his nightstand, lifting it once more to smell of its sweet fragrance. Putting it down, he finished tying his cravat, and went down to dinner. Hopefully his father would have returned, being after eight o'clock now.
XXX
Sara sat at the table of her empty Inn. It was fully rented until the day after next, so she had no hopes of company unless a weary traveler happened by. She longed for the conversations with Meg and Madame Giry, she had enjoyed them so. She reached for another cookie. The coffee and extra cookies had become supper this night, in lieu of cooking up something just for her.
Her cat sat by the warmth of the fireplace, licking its paws from the milk it had spilled from its saucer. "Kitty…" Sara called "come sit on my lap and keep me company." The cat looked at her briefly before turning its attention back to washing his paws.
"Just as well" Sara muttered standing now and tucking the chair beneath the table. "A good book and a bed will suit me just fine." She turned down the oil lamp until it flickered out. The steel grate in place in front of the fire, Sara wandered off to bed.