Raoul and his father had settled into the table, and were waiting rather impatiently for the women to return. His father looked at his pocket watch incessantly, though Raoul knew he'd have plenty of time before he'd have to be back at the Opera House.
"Son," he began in a low tone "the construction is coming along quite famously. The foremen assure me we will be done on or ahead of our schedule. Consequently, we will need to re-staff a bit sooner than I had first anticipated. With Meg not feeling well, it wouldn't be any wonder if she will have want to return home before the start of next week. Perhaps now would be an opportune time to give her the letter to deliver to her mother. We will need her to return in four weeks' time to put the dormitories in order, and settle in to her new residence."
Feeling sufficiently keen, he leaned back taking a sip of his brandy. Rubbing his chin, he leaned back in. "I've no want to force nature's hand, but I do wish that her uncle would hurry his way through death's door to allow Madame Giry the courtesy of returning here in due time!" He smiled, no hint of apology or embarrassment in his expression.
Raoul felt sick in the pit of his stomach. His father proved yet again that his heartlessness ran deep, and everything in life was about business…nothing more. He was about to chastise his father when Meg and his sister returned, looking much refreshed.
The two gentlemen stood as the waiter appeared from nowhere pulling out the chairs for each lady. Raoul glanced coolly at Meg, preferring to avoid eye-contact, "I do hope you are feeling better…perhaps a bit of lunch will assist you." Meg could not bring herself to look at Raoul, the lack of eye contact being observed carefully by his father. Meg replied "yes, I am quite, thank you."
His sister aided Meg in putting a napkin on her lap as the waiter brought over fresh glasses of iced tea for the ladies. "Now good sir, do bring us a plate of those sandwiches, and tray of savories for the ladies, and look smart about it." He smiled looking at his daughter. He'd kindly remembered what a sweet-tooth she had. The waiter bowed slightly moving hurriedly toward the kitchens.
"Now then, Meg, do tell us, how is your mother?" Monsieur De Chagny inquired, with little genuine interest other than to begin his conversation about their return.
Meg replied "she is quite well, thank you." Knowing full well the next question before it was asked, Meg continued. "My uncle has taken quite ill, and I fear he will not last through the summer. My aunt has been battling the flu, while he's been bedridden. Mother has spent much time caring for them both. Though it is a labor of love, it is tedious work, and I fear she grows quite weary of the day-to-day drudgery of it." Meg smiled at him politely, still averting her eyes from Raoul.
"I see…hmmm. Perhaps a return to the Opera House would be a relief to her cares. Does she talk of this often?" Meg winced just slightly. Her mother had expressed the intentions of returning one day, but now, given the present circumstances, she wasn't entirely certain what would become of them.
"We try not to speak of it too often, as it precipitates feelings of tremendous guilt in my aunt for having taken us away from Paris." Not entirely a lie Meg thought to herself.
"Well then, perhaps this would be a good time to present you with this." He reached across the table, handing a large ivory envelope to Meg. She flipped it over. It bore the crest of the De Chagny family.
"What is this?" Meg inquired. "It is the details regarding her new quarters, and when we would like her to occupy them." "I see," said Meg. "I shall be certain to give this to her upon my return next week."
Raoul's father glanced over at Raoul who'd begun shaking his head to indicate his declination. "Perhaps Raoul could accompany you to your uncle's so that he might bring back to Paris, the confirmation that you and your mother will be returning on schedule."
Meg froze. Her pulse quickened as the repercussions of such an unexpected visit raced through her mind. The group had never discussed what to do if someone actually wanted to call on them, it simply never seemed plausible. The address they had given the Opera House managers was not false, but certainly the proximity was no where near where they actually resided, it was several safe hours away from there. There was no time to dispatch a messenger to make the necessary arrangements. Meg stammered "that won't be necessary….I'm…I'm certain that Raoul has many more pressing things to attend to….I can…on my next …" Meg stopped, realizing that she was babbling incoherently.
Raoul sensed Meg was unnerved; he knew it had been his forwardness that disconcerted her. Now Meg feared even traveling alone with him. Raoul intervened, shaking his head "an escort could accompany us if you like Meg, perhaps my sister could…"
Without thought, Meg interrupted "No! No….that shan't be necessary." She rose from her chair, feeling a bit light headed once more. "Thank you kindly for the tea, I'll be making my way back to the inn as I'm not feeling at all well just now…perhaps we could discuss this later?"
Meg turned, rushing out the French doors and into the gardens. True, those paths didn't lead to a proper exit, but she'd have no trouble moving through the bushes. She simploy must get home…..she had to deliver the envelope to her mother, she had to talk to Nadir, she had to do this quickly lest Raoul's father insist that he come with her…she couldn't afford to be followed. She needed desperately to look at that face again…that sleeping face….
Reaching inside the folds of her dress as she crossed the lawns, she pulled from it a singular article. She felt tremendous guilt for having deprived someone of their cherished possession, but it was absolutely necessary…no one would believe her without that picture. She darted swiftly down the alley and up the stairs of her inn, as though she was being pursued by a ravenous lion. She closed the door behind her and found her traveling bag. She'd set out all of her things, for an extended stay. Now she found herself carelessly shoving them into her bag, hoping only to fetch the hansom before Raoul or his father made it to the Inn to stop her.
XXXXX
Raoul sat fixed to his chair, a horrified expression on his face. "Perhaps if someone had kept his hands to himself the poor thing wouldn't have spooked like a frightened foal!" Raoul's sister scolded her brother.
His father snapped his head back and forth between the two. "What is this you speak of? Who could not keep their hands off of ….Meg? Madame Giry's daughter?" he gasped in disbelief.
Raoul felt the heat of deep shame invading his cheeks. "RAOUL! What have you done? Are you mad? If you've offended her, we will be quite without a ballet mistress, and quite without an opera…what then shall we tell our investors?"
Raoul squirmed, feeling a young boy all over again. "It was nothing, I'm afraid my dear sister here is exaggerating the story." Their father looked over at her "well?" he demanded.
She glanced over at Raoul, feeling somewhat sorry, but believing her father had to know. He would likely be approached by the husbands of the gossip hounds who even now watched with earnest interest from a distance.
"When Meg fainted, we were both tending to her. As she came about, she started talking of being exposed to the flu. It was then that Raoul reached out capriciously and pulled her onto his lap! Cradling her in his arms, pulling her head to his chest, grabbing her about the waist, whispering that he loved her into her ear!"
Raoul nearly spun around full circle "that's not true…I did no such thing….I simply was trying to revive her…I…." Quickly realizing that his sister had not misspoken, her face as cool as a fresh snow. He looked shamefacedly at his father.
"RAOUL De Chagny…what on earth have you done! If that woman returns home, telling her mother of your behavior..." He was trying very hard to keep from bellowing, "I implore you, go to her now and apologize before she runs from this city and we never see her or her mother again!"
Raoul stood, both wanting to strike his father for ordering him about in such a brash way, and wanting to run from the city and never look back. He simply turned, and without retort, left his father and sister sitting at the table.
The waiter arrived, curious look on his face. "Dinner for two just now good man…just for two." He said lifting his glass, spilling the contents into his mouth before slamming it to the table.