Madame Giry and Christine sat impatiently in the kitchen. The maids had come and gone from the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and tidying up. It had been a long morning and it was nearing the time for them to prepare for lunch. The coffee was cold in their cups, and they'd abandoned their uneaten breakfast on their plates. Madame Giry's traveling cloak was now deposited on the chair. "Whatever is taking them so long?" Christine said, a bit of quiet distain in her voice. Madame Giry just shook her head from side to side.
"Nadir and the physician have been up all night. No doubt they are tired, their horses weary. I don't think they took anything with them for provisions." Madame Giry said looking out of the window at the length of muddy road that led off the property.
Christine was so very tired. She felt weak, and yet the tone in Madame Giry's voice, and the lingering question that she'd wanted to ask her recently hung in the air. "Madame Giry, you have grown rather fond of Nadir, haven't you?"
Madame Giry spun around on her heels looking at Christine. "Christine he has become a trusted friend, a companion, during our time here. He knew things that we did not about this place, and we knew things about Erik's life that Nadir never knew of. We've spent quite a lot of time together…"
Christine felt a small smile cross her face. "But you've grown rather fond of him haven't you?"
Madame Giry turned back looking out the window. "I suppose I have. He is an interesting man, rather pleasant, and kind to a fault." She said her face never changing expression. "But it is of no matter. We shall soon part ways and it will all be forgotten."
Christine sensed a tinge of sorrow in her voice. "Madame Giry, it is not my place to say," Christine paused "but if you love him…"
Madame Giry turned abruptly looking harshly at Christine. "Love is a luxury I can ill afford at this point in my life. Our family is more important that anything to me….Nadir…would only make things even more complicated."
Christine sighed. She was indeed much younger than Madame Giry….but she understood complicated relationships.
"I've no desire to wait any longer. I'm going to the stable." Madame Giry put on her cloak and walked out of the door. Christine following closely on her heels.
"Madame Giry, whatever are you suggesting?" Christine half fearing she'd take a horse, and yet another part of the family would be missing.
"Do not worry child, I'm fetching the last carriage. Go and get your cloak" she looked down "and some proper shoes. We'll be off to the winter house in a few minutes."
Christine felt a sudden burst of energy. Yes, she was still tired, but anything was preferable to the utter torturous agony of waiting in that house for another minute! Sara would be at the winter house no doubt, and she could ride back with them in the carriage. With any fortune at all, they would all be back together at the manor for lunch. She'd mention that to the kitchen staff. Yes, they should prepare a large lunch for early afternoon.
Christine found herself running up the stairs, grabbing the hand of her most trusted maid on her way. "Now, I want you to put together a basket for Madame Giry and I, then begin preparations for…" Christine gave her instructions as she hurriedly dressed in something more suitable, and put on a sturdy pair of shoes. She was down the stairs and grabbing her cloak just as the carriage appeared at the door beside the kitchen. Madame Giry opened the door, and Christine ducked in, basket in hand. "Now Maria, do see that all is ready when we return. There will be many hungry mouths to feed when you see us next." She paused, "and do not bother to grind food for Mr. Courtland today, I think he should prefer to eat with the rest of us." Maria nodded, and closed the door on the carriage. The driver cracked his whip, and they were off.
XXXX
Erik groaned. He'd heard the gunshot, felt a spattering of wet cross his face. He'd heard a thud, trampling footsteps as they crossed the floor, a slamming door, and then silence. He hadn't felt an entry wound, he felt no additional pain, and wondered if it had all been an elaborate hallucination.
He blinked his eyes anxiously. They were slowly coming back into focus. The ceiling looked a bit familiar, and it took but a moment for him to realize where he was. Erik had painted that ceiling himself, his trademark musical notes, and winged angels in the corner confirmed his suspicion. He was at the winter house. How his horse had arrived there, he did not know.
What he did know was that Joseph's son had been there, and had intended to kill him, but something had gone wrong, for Erik felt nothing. Erik glanced around, no one was standing in the room, the boy must have fled. But what of Sara?
"Sara?" Erik called out in the loudest voice he could muster. Nothing. "Sara, he is gone now, do come out, I've much to ask you!"
Erik heard a groan coming from the floor next to where he lay on the divan. He pulled himself to a half-sitting position. The horror of what he saw, undid him. It was one thing to see a man, downed in the heat of battle, but quite another thing entirely to see a woman mortally wounded.
"Sara!" Erik held his middle, rolling himself with great pain, down onto his knees on the floor next to her. He rubbed at his eyes as he focused on her. She had a large wound in her mid-section, it was bleeding profusely. Sara's eyes were open, but had taken on a distant sort of gaze….a gaze Erik knew well.
"Sara! Stay with me Sara….whatever did you do?" Sara looked up at him as Erik cradled her head in his hands.
"Erik…." She began through labored breath, "he was going to kill you, surely kill you…"
"Shhhh…save your breath, I'll go fetch…" his own words drying in his throat, for he knew it would be an effort in futility.
"Erik, tell my children I love them….will you?"
Erik nodded "I shall do my best dear lady," he said, dampness forming in corners of his eyes.
"He was going to kill you Erik, I heard his words….my sister…my sister Ruth and I….we couldn't save you when you were a boy…..I promised….promised…that if I could ever save you….ever found you again….that I would help you……help you." A raspy gasp came from her throat as she continued, "love Christine Erik, love her dearly…give them a kiss for me." She reached up her hand feebly caressing Erik's right cheek, "its perfect now, God has smiled on you….." her voice trailed off, her hand dropped to the ground with a sickening thud, her body went limp, and her stare faded to blank.
Erik began to sob, resting his head on Sara's chest, pulling her lifeless body to him, he cradled her in his arms. This woman had given her life to protect him…..something not even his own mother would have done. "No….no…." Erik sat rocking her back and forth. She'd worried for him all those years, had just found him several months ago, and now…and now…..
XXXXXX
Meg sat quietly resting in the carriage as it rattled on toward Paris. She and Raoul hadn't exchanged so much as a word the entire time they'd traveled. She watched out of the corner of her eye as his expressions had gone from relief, to anger, to tears, to desperation, back to relief again. She could only imagine where his thoughts had taken him.
She thought herself about what must be going on now at Courtland Manor. Surely Christine would be distraught, her mother no doubt had clamored into a carriage with Nadir and was already on their heels sick with worry. Meg thought about Erik. The last she had really spoken with him was months ago, when they had been at the Candlelight Inn. It had been a fleeting conversation really, he had put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her as a sister, telling her that everything would soon be right with the world, that they would be safe, and out of harms way to enjoy one another's company. Oh how she had wanted to believe him.
He had been a legend really. Infallible, untouchable, indestructible. She'd come to know him as so much more, and yet so much less as she watched as the merciless bullet and ensuing complications had almost claimed his life. He was a man yes, but so much more than a man. She closed her eyes saying a prayer that he would not suffer too much from having made the journey to see to her wellbeing.
She glanced back over at Raoul. He'd finally fallen off to sleep. He looked weary. Yes, she felt weary too, but she thought about all that he had dealt with in the last hours, all he had come to terms with. She felt both love and respect for him. Had he not come to her aide, she wouldn't be here with him now. Meg lost herself in thought. Not the typical daydreams of a young woman in love, rather the complicated thoughts of how all the pieces of this fragmented puzzle would fit into place. It would not be easy. She would be parted from Christine and Erik for long periods. To see them, she would have to lie to Raoul. The truth was so harsh, but so much less cruel than the deception would be. But too many lives hung in the delicate balance of the altered reality she would have to live in. Yes, there would be love….but there would never truly be peace.
Meg nodded off. She'd not slept soundly for several days, and the exertions from the previous evening's events had drained her of what little energy she had. The carriage was warm, and the make-shift bed that Raoul had fashioned was comfortable.
Soon she was deep asleep, her dreams returning to her. Meg was wandering through the long halls of the winter house. It was storming outside and the crashing thunder and flashes of lightening, reminded her of something she'd read once in the works of Edgar Allan Poe. She could see many doors slamming open and shut as the house rattled in the merciless grip of the storm.
She heard screaming, then abruptly, all was silent. The flashes of lights, and the thunder rumbled, but the walls inside were calm. The walls of the house were stained a blood red, silky black curtains fluttered up and down with each gust of heated wind. At the end of the long door-lined hallway she could see him…slowly walking toward her. Each flash of lightening illuminated his steps and made it seem like he was traveling in segments rather than with the fluidity of human movement.
Suddenly, one by one, the doors began to open. A form would appear behind it before it promptly slammed shut. First she saw Raoul, he was bloodied, a noose about his neck. Next came Christine, a frightening pale on her face, her eyes looking dark and dead, a limp fetus in her arms. The man moved ever closer as he passed each door it slammed open and shut. Next was Erik, bandaged heavily, his face now entirely deformed, as if melted under the strength of a great heat. Then Sara, a gaping hole in her middle, blood trickling from her mouth, her face expressionless. The final door held the most horror, an intense shrieking could be heard before her mother's face appeared, she was crying, reaching out for Meg….
A final deafening clap of thunder and a white-hot flash of light and the man was upon her. It was Ronaldo but he had fangs and claws where his hands had been. He was shredding her…shredding her clothing, her skin, clawing at her like a monster…she tried to scream but nothing would come out….she was dying, she knew she was dying……
Meg jumped, as she felt the actual touch on her skin. "Meg! Meg!" Raoul was shaking her. "You must wake up Meg, you're having a nightmare…WAKE UP!"
She shuddered, her form going limp into Raoul's arms. She was sweating her bandages covered in a sticky film as she had been lashing about with her hands.
"Raoul….it was terrible…he was…you were….the noise was so loud, the blackness, the lightening…"
Raoul lifted her into his arms, putting her in his lap, he sat down on her side of the carriage. "Meg dear, it was a dream, I am here to protect you, he is gone…it is just a dream." Raoul shuddered at his own words. It had only been months before that he'd made Christine the same promise….and had failed to keep it. He had to stop thinking about the events that he could not change in the past, and start living in the present…the past was dead. The present held a living, breathing creature that needed him.
He lowered his lips to Meg's forehead, placing a delicate, reassuring kiss on her skin. She lay in his arms breathing heavily endeavoring to regain a normal calm. She ran her hands over each bandage. The wounds feeling freshly hewn, though not by man's hands, but the recurring terrors of her mind.
Every time she closed her eyes she could smell his breath, feel his hands on her flesh, sense the rage that drove him. Her eyes flew back open. "I must not sleep, I must not think….hold me Raoul….hold me close."
He pulled her closer to him, covering her with his cloak. Yes he saw the scrapes, the blood, the newly forming bruises, but mostly he saw Meg for the young, innocent woman she was, and that touched his heart.
Soon they would be back in Paris. His private physician could administer something to help her sleep without dreams. Raou'l needed a brandy, and a long rest himself. There was much to think about.
He looked down at the dried blood on his hands. In his focused concern for Meg, he'd forgotten to wash away the vile reminder. One hand wandered to the sheath that contained the weapon he'd employed to put an end to the man that rode lifeless beneath the carriage. Rest would not come for hours for him as matters needed sorting out. There were many questions to be answered to the authorities, no doubt his father could be of assistance there. He leaned back resting his head against the side of the carriage. This had been a day he wished he could erase from this earth, but it was not within his realm. The past months had reminded him dearly of how precious little power he had to alter the course of fate.