The maid huffed as she finished putting away the remains of the dinner that had gone uneaten. The table was still set, in case they were merely late in returning. They'd eaten the vegetables, but the roasted meats were resting in a pot over a very low fire. If they didn't return tonight, it could be used for stew the next day.
"Sara went off to town this morning and hasn't been back since!" The first said to the second as she came back in from the clothesline, carrying in Erik's bedding. "Now that the master is awake, he'll never tolerate such laziness. She'll be gone within a few weeks. She spent most of her time doting over the two of them, and you remember how he likes to be left alone!" They both laughed. As they put out the candles in the dining room and wandered off to put away the linens.
XXXXX
The carriage pulled up in front of Raoul's house. The senior DeChagny came out of the door eagerly, looking for his son. "Raou'l, pray do tell me you caught up with her and…." He stopped as he saw Raoul escorting Meg from the carriage. Her face was now shades of plum and deep blue, lined with red where the lacerations and abrasions had reshaped her porcelain skin.
"Meg, what ever happened…..dear are you…." Raoul waived his father off. "We will talk later," he said glancing at his father and then towards the house. Meg felt a bit weak in the knees, and stumbled slightly. Raoul caught her, immediately leaning down and sweeping her up into his arms. His father bristled, unsure what might have happened, but went to open the door for him just the same.
Once inside, Raoul called out "Madeline?" A stout woman, with jet-black hair appeared from the kitchen. "Sir, what may I?" She paused "Vicomte?" "Madeline, please make up the guest room, the one at the front of the house, the one….." Raoul could not bring himself to say it. It was the room he had prepared for Christine. It had been appointed with the finest furnishings. Delicate fabrics, rich tapestries, and a full-length dressing mirror, beveled and its rim crusted with crushed stones of every color. The most elaborate mirror he or anyone in his household had ever laid eyes on. He had fashioned this room for her, and now it would shelter another. Madeline simply nodded. It would take little time to prepare, as it had been kept on the ready on Raoul's orders in case Christine was ever found.
Raoul carried Meg into his study. Now that the Opera House was nearing completion, he had been able to return this room, and several others, back into his private residence, rather than a gathering place for architects and financiers. The fire had been lit as his father had been waiting for him to return. Raoul had left in such a rush, and been gone all night and day, his father only could have hoped he'd come to his senses and gone to apologize.
Raoul sat down in his large oversized leather chair in front of the fire, Meg resting in his arms. He glanced over and pulled the blanket from the other chair, covering Meg with it, tucking it around her. Though she was awake, she sat silently in his arms. Raoul's father came in walking behind him, and then back out again, closing the pocket doors.
"Meg, I'll introduce you to Madeline. She is a sweet woman, though her English is rather broken, she is able to converse quite well. She will see to all of your needs. Do not hesitate to ask her for whatever you might wish for." He leaned down and though he hesitated, he kissed her forehead lightly.
Meg shivered. She was neither cold nor frightened, it was simply an involuntary response to this foreign sensation of affection. Had the circumstances been any different, she would have been overwhelmed with joy at this new relation, but her joy was, and would forever be, tempered by the fact that he had been betrothed to Christine.
"Are you cold Meg?" Raoul inquired, pulling the blanket up further under her chin.
"No, I am quite warm thank you." Her face hurt when she spoke, as it tugged at her stitches. No doubt that would subside, but for now it was all she could do to keep from crying at the pain of it.
"Are you feeling up to having a bit of supper? I could have Madeline bring something in for us here, something informal, some soup perhaps?" Meg's stomach was indeed very empty. She really did not have an appetite, and though she knew she should eat, the thought of it made her feel quite ill. She was about to tell Raoul, but the door behind them opened, and Madeline appeared baring a tray.
"Sir, room is ready for young miss, when ready, help to bed, ring bell." Madeline put a tray on the table in front of them, and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. The tray had a dish of applesauce, crust-less toast points, some soft cheeses, and a pot of tea. There was also a large hunk of roasted meat, lying open face on a large roll, and a small pitcher of milk, and a few sweet shortbreads. Raoul smiled, Madeline had been thoughtful as always.
Raoul stood, nestling Meg down into the chair, removing her shoes and wrapping her feet up in the blanket. Meg closed her eyes, this felt too much like a dream. Raoul pulled the small table next to Meg's chair and then the other chair up against it. He reached down and dove the spoon into the applesauce, and brought it up to Meg's lips. "It is sweetened with sugar and cinnamon." Meg opened her mouth and he slid the spoon in. She had never been fed by anyone before, except her mother of course when she was an infant. He smiled as she pushed the sauce around with her tongue and attempted to smile. Raoul lifted spoon after spoon until the dish was nearly empty. Meg put up her hand as Raoul dipped the spoon in the dish once more. He put the spoon back down and knelt down before her on the floor.
"It is good that you ate something. No doubt when the doctor arrives, he will want to give you something to help you rest." He turned, and sat in the chair, pouring them both some tea. Before Meg could say anything to him, he put two short pours of cream into her cup, and just a touch of sugar. She had a puzzled look on her face.
"You didn't think I noticed? In all the times we've had tea together my dear?" He said smiling at her, as he stirred her cup, blowing on it to cool. Meg blushed, thankful that at least the shade of bruising surely hid it. He poured his own cup, sitting it back in the saucer.
"Meg, I will do everything that I can to make you comfortable here. Please think of this as your home while you…." In that moment, Raoul felt a strange twinge in his chest. In that instant, he was entirely aware that he never wanted her to leave again. He shook his head. "I'm going to go out to take a peek at your room, and to find my father. I'll be back before your tea cools."
He stood, giving her a peck on the forehead before he slipped out the door. He pulled the doors closed behind him. Leaning against the wall his heart was pounding. A smile crossed his face. He hadn't felt any real sense of joy since, since…the fire. His heart had just skipped a beat as his mind's eye traveled to seeing Meg occupying that room, roaming the halls of his house, blonde trusses flowing, a pale pink dress swishing behind her.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he heard his father's footsteps on the stairs. As he descended, he motioned to Raoul, to come into the parlor. Raoul followed. His father closed the door. Moving to the far side of the room, his father looked at him sternly "whatever happened to Meg? Was she robbed? I knew we shouldn't have sent her away without a proper escort!" Raoul pulled his father down into the two singular chairs in the room, beneath the window.
"Father, I'll explain what happened, but I must first ask for your solemn promise that you will neither judge nor condemn me for what I am about to tell you. That you will not ask Meg any questions directly, and will treat her with the warmth of a family member, not as a mere house guest." His father had never seen such seriousness, or strength in his son's eyes. He simply cleared his throat and leaned in. That was his way of agreeing without words. It rather irritated Raoul, but that was his father's way, and nothing would change that.
XXXXX
Nadir and Madame Giry had just finished talking to the officer of the law, and closed the door. Sara's body was now on its way in the back of the carriage to the undertakers. She would receive a proper burial. The incident had been reported as a robbery, the unfortunate maid had been there at the closed house at the inopportune time and had frightened the thief who had subsequently slain her. The officer did not question it to great extent, having seen the shambles the house had been left in, the explanation of cleaning up the murder scene was quite acceptable, in light of the presence of Madame Giry. The officer had questioned the physician that had now retired to clean up the bed where Sara had lain.
"Nadir, thank heavens neither Erik nor Christine woke while he was here." Nadir touched Madame Giry's shoulder, motioning her to sit down.
"We have very little provisions here Madame, and I should think that you are hungry, and we will need to be feeding the sleeping pair when they wake. It is far too late now to head out for Paris, let us stay here tonight and head out first thing. I shall send the doctor back in the morning on Sara's horse, and he can retrieve the last…"
Madame Giry looked at Nadir and nodded. "This is the last carriage isn't it?" Nadir said. She nodded again. "Hmmmm, I see. Perhaps the good doctor could go home and bring his carriage to collect them." He thought for a moment. "I shall send the coachmen into town now with the carriage, they can fetch supper for the lot of us."
"That would be most thoughtful Nadir, you are a good and trusted friend to us all."
"Indeed he is." Both Nadir and Madame Giry jumped at the sound of the voice. From the shadowy hallway Erik appeared, holding his side walking toward them, he half-reclined on the divan in front of the fire.
"Erik, you should be resting, especially after what you've consumed my dear friend!"
Erik glanced over at the decanter of brandy, and grunted in disgust. "It's been a good long time since I've imbibed, and I think it shall be longer still before drink brandy again!" Erik lifted his hand to his head, trying to quell the infernal pounding of his heartbeat in his temples.
"I shan't wonder that you have a headache, you know not to combine those things, and you promised…" the voice of the physician came over Erik's shoulder as he joined the group in the parlor.
"It was not my intention doctor, but many things, as of late, have happened without my intentions." He shot the doctor a fiery glare.
"I see you are moving around quite well for a man in your condition. Did I not warn you to take your recovery slowly? The operations were successful, but you only see the skin on the surface, what healing is now going on, you cannot see, but it is most delicate, and needs time to repair itself."
Erik looked away disgustedly. "What is this talk of supper?" Erik said, trying to change the subject. Nadir laughed, "supper for you will be soft eggs, if the coachmen are able to find some when they go into town!" Erik grumbled. The doctor quickly interjecting "if he was able to handle the brandy, that much brandy, he could probably eat a bit more. Perhaps a bit of potatoes and gravy, some soft bread and milk."
Erik looked hopeful. "And a slice of roasted beef?" The doctor looked down and shook his head. "Erik, be thankful for what you can have, the rest will come in time." Erik turned slowly and with his back turned said before slumping down into the couch "do I look like a vegetarian to you good sir?"
That made Madame Giry, Nadir, and the doctor all laugh. Laughter soon turned to silence as the coachmen came into the house from the back stable. "We've watered the horses sir, but we've not oats or straw for them, and since the ground is still barren, they've little to find there." Nadir took the elder and led him to the back door, giving him instructions and funds, sending him off to town which was but three miles away. With any smile of fortune, they would be back before complete darkness fell.
Madame Giry turned to the doctor, "and how is Christine?"
Erik turned abruptly, grabbing at his side in pain from his sudden movement. "What? Christine is here?"
Nadir was just coming back into the room. Without a word, Nadir walked over and helped Erik stand, "come my friend, I will take you to her." Though Nadir was decidedly shorter than Erik, he was stocky, holding Erik's slouched form quite well as he helped him to slowly climb the stairs.
As they disappeared beyond the banister the doctor turned to Madame Giry. "She is resting, although fitfully. She no doubt is exhausted from the lack of sleep, and this early in her pregnancy she requires much, so it is good that she still rests, though I am certain that Erik will not wait long before he does something to make her stir." Madame Giry smiled, "indeed." The doctor looked over his shoulder to be certain that they were completely alone. "Nadir handles him well. No doubt they've been friends for a very long time?"
Madame Giry said, "yes, quite a long time. And yes, he does handle him well. He knows when to fight with him, and when, like now, it will do no good, so it is best to simply do as he asks."
"That stubbornness no doubt has served him well, in fact it might be that very thing that speeds his recovery. By all rights that man should be bedridden still, yet he walks as though he's recovering from merely a bad fall!" Madame Giry could do nothing more than nod, for to say anything more would be to betray Erik's confidences, and that she could not do.
"I suppose we should be finding rooms for ourselves to sleep for the evening. I do wish I could be with Meg tonight, but since you've assured me that she will be o.k., and since we've but the one carriage, it does not make sense to press on in the dark, especially with whomever did this to poor Sara still out there, I'd not think of venturing out alone." Madame Giry felt torn. She wanted so desperately to be at Meg's side, but she had to trust that these men knew best.
XXXXXX
Nadir sat Erik down in a chair that he'd pulled up next to Christine's bed. He nodded to Erik and closed the door behind himself as he left.
Erik sat staring at Christine. The kerosene lamp hissed, emitting a soft glow of even light. He worried for her. He didn't want to wake her and frighten her. Nadir had told him of why she had fainted, thinking Erik to be dead. Seeing him there beside her would be fright enough without being pulled unwilling from her slumber only to be greeted by a ghost.
Erik pulled himself around in the chair until he found a semi-comfortable position. He peered beneath his jacket, the gauze was still in place, and nothing seemed to be draining, a good sign he thought to himself. He would sit by her side, keeping watch all night if he needed to until she woke, though he hoped it wouldn't take that long.
How he wanted to tell her he was alright. To tell her Meg was going to be alright. He did not know if she knew that Meg had gone with Raoul. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure if she even knew that Raoul had been there, that Meg had been there. He'd not even had a complete conversation with any of the people who now sat downstairs.
It comforted him to know that there was a physician in the house, in case Christine needed anything. Erik relaxed back into the chair, his thoughts retracing the steps of the day. It was but two days ago that Erik had first realized he was still in the land of the living. Now one friend was gone, one was in Paris, and his beautiful Christine lay sleeping, thinking he to be dead.
Glossy tears rimmed Erik's eyes as he thought of Sara. She'd given so much, thought about him all of those years….now he would never be able to repay her, except by doing right by her children, and by keeping his promise to her.
Erik thought of Meg. He remembered back to the first time he laid eyes on her sweet innocent little face. How he marveled at the mother Madame Giry had become. Meg grew up to be as sweet as her mother was strong. Perhaps in all of her observations of her mother, Meg would have grown to have a strength within herself to sustain her during this time. How Erik would have longed to avenge Meg's attacker, but the Vicomte had taken care of that. He somewhat reluctantly was thankful to the man for that. Had they met under different circumstances, they might well have been friends. They were both fiercely protective, and extremely loyal.
Now, Erik could only think about the man, nay, boy, who had murdered Sara in cold blood. He had been so cowardly that he didn't even realize he'd missed his target, for if he had, Erik would not have been alive now, sitting there by Christine. Erik did not know if he would ever find him, but something told him that he might not have seen the last of this boy.
Erik flinched as he heard Christine begin to whimper. He tried to leap to his feet, but the pain in his middle nearly put him on the floor, the wind knocked right out of him. He had to move slowly. He came to rest on the bed next to Christine. He sat holding her hand as he watched the expressions on her face, as her lips trembled, her eyes racing furiously beneath her lids. She was having a nightmare. He wanted to wake her, but could not bring himself to frighten her so. He did the only thing he knew how to do. He began to hum softly, caressing her forehead, pushing her brown curls away from the sides of her face. He heard her sigh.
After a few minutes, he watched as her expressions relaxed, and her hand slowly floated down, coming to rest on her abdomen. He smiled. For all the tragedy that had beheld this day, one miracle remained. He reached out his hand, gently placing it over hers. His humming changed to singing, sweet, soft, low notes, of the melody of the song he had written for her….the one she had discovered on her own in the depths of his trunk.. His voice growing warmer as he fondled her hand in his "Christine….I love you….this blessing that you now carry will bring us much joy…it is the hope for our future….the blending of our pasts….the melding of our souls…."
Erik began to cry, quietly, very quietly. He hung his head next to her arm. Much had altered that day. The night before he'd been trying to comfort her nightmare, and yet it had probably saved Meg. Erik was deep in thought when he felt a gentle hand wiping away the tears from his cheek. He looked up. Christine was staring at him.
"Erik? Why do you cry? You are in heaven now…all things are wonderful….and now you've sent your spirit back to care for me?" Erik shook his head….what had she said? He stood, ignoring the pain in his side, he scooped her up into his arms, coming to rest next to her in the bed.
"My dearest Christine….I love you…..this is not a dream…..wake dear child….wake." He began to rub the back of her neck, caressing her shoulder. He slid his hand carefully down her collarbone, down past her breastbone, down to just below her navel. He gently began to rub her stomach. Though her pregnancy was not yet detectable, he could sense the presence of their child anyway.
Christine shuddered, jerking at one point until she gasped. "Christine?" Erik lifted her head, cradling her neck in his hand.
"Erik!" She shrieked… "Dear God it wasn't a dream….you are with me…." She sat up, kissing his face, his hands, his neck. "Erik, Nadir screamed when we came to the house we came in and Madame Giry pulled me away, then Nadir came in and he shrieked, I saw blood, I thought….."
"Shhhhh…..I know my dear….I know…." Christine's breathing was slowing down a bit, though she clung to Erik's middle as though if she let go of him he would slip away into her dreams again.
"Christine, I love you my dear." She sobbed into his chest. "I thought I'd lost you again….I thought you'd left me…I was so angry that I'd let you go. What happened? Why did you not return?"
Erik searched his mind for how to break the news to her that Sara was gone. Surely he would have to tell her in the next breaths, lest she begin to ask. He felt better when he could anticipate her needs. "My dear, I must say I was not quite ready for the journey I embarked on. No doubt you have spoken to Nadir?" Erik hoped she had, as it would make this process more expedited.
"Yes, he told me of Meg, how you had exchanged your carriage for his horse."
"Very well, then I can tell you that I rode the horse intending to return to you, to prepare Madame Giry to depart, to break the news of what we found. The medicine that the doctor gave me….well at some point I could no longer travel, and I entrusted myself to the care of the beast lest I be lost in the woods, food for hungry wolves." That made Christine shudder. "The next that I knew a young man was helping me off of the horse here. He helped me in, and made me comfortable and that is all I remember until…." Erik paused.
"What is it Erik?" He swallowed, he did not want to tell her, but he knew he must. "Sara arrived, she woke me, went to the kitchen to fetch some water. I was still half sleeping when I saw the outline of a boy, a gun in his hands…he said that he was Joseph's son, brother to Ronaldo, and that he wanted blood for blood…" Christine gasped. "I could do nothing as I could barely see as he drew his gun and turned his head…." Christine began looking Erik over. He had no new wounds that she could see, but hints of splattered blood were on his cheeks. "Erik?" "Before I could do anything I heard the gun fire, and then tramping boots." Erik paused.
"But what of this blood? Where did he wound you Erik?" Her respiration increasing, her eyes growing wide. Erik reached up, putting a hand on her cheek, caressing it. "It was Sara my dear…"
Christine blinked heavily. "What of Sara, were is she….SARA!" Christine tried to pull away, to sit up, but Erik held her tightly around the waist.
"Sara moved in between us….she is gone….it is her blood you see on my face." Christine crumbled into his arms, crushed by the news. "NO! NO!" she sobbed. Erik rubbed her back, holding her until her fits of tears ceased.
"Christine, I will need your help. Sara made me promise that I would tell her children that she loved them…yet I do not even know Sara's last name, or the whereabouts of her children." He looked thoughtfully at Christine. "Christine, that music box….the one I kept with me under the Opera House….Sara is the one that gave that to me."
Christine was quite perplexed. He had told her that he had it since he was but a mere boy. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Sara had been the young girl that gave it to me when her family traveled with us briefly. The only toy I brought with me…the only one I'd ever had."
"Oh Erik…" Christine began to sob again. Erik's eyes, now filled with tears as he recounted the rest of the story for Christine, and Sara's words as she died in his arms.
"My own mother discarded me like chattel, and yet this woman made the ultimate sacrifice." He turned to her, "then she said the strangest thing, she said to give them a kiss for her, but she never said who. She told me to love you dearly, though I think she already knew that I did."
"Erik, will this treachery ever end? Will no one leave us in peace? What of the boy now, will he hunt us too?"
"I do not know Christine….I do not know."
"Where is Sara now?" "Christine, I've not been awake much longer than you. It may surprise you to know that I've not yet asked these questions. I thought it best that we find this out together. The doctor who treated Meg is here. He no doubt assisted Nadir in taking care of things for her. When I was in the parlor, I saw but faint traces of blood, nothing more. Are you feeling up to a trip downstairs?"
Christine nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. Erik looked down at her tenderly, running his hand along her abdomen. He searched for her hand, intertwining it with his, bringing it to rest on her stomach. "Are you both feeling well?" Even in the staggering sadness of the moment, they hadn't forgotten to be thankful for what they did have. They had each other…they had their child….Erik kissed her lips tenderly. "Perhaps if it is a girl, we can name her Sara?" Christine nuzzled Erik, "I think that should be just right." Erik smiled.
"Come, let us go down. I hear that the carriage has returned, it should be baring our supper with it." "What?" Christine said, sitting up now. Erik pulled her to a standing position.
"I am hungry, are you not hungry?" She smiled, "Erik darling, it is good to hear you speak…to see you breathe….to watch you so alive….so full of life." She reached out her hand, running it along his chest.
"Christine, it is in your own best interest to be careful now. I am not the same docile man that I was the other evening. I may not be as healthy as I once was, but I am mending…"
Christine blushed, brushing a kiss on his jaw. I know my husband….I know…." She took him by the hand, and led him out the door and to the top of the stairs. He whirled her around before they descended, placing his arm in the small of her back pulling her firmly to him, with the other he cradled her head, looking deeply into her eyes.
"Thank you for loving me Christine, for rescuing me, for staying by my side, and for this," he moved his hand from her back to her stomach, rubbing it affectionately. "No man's heart could hold greater joy, for you to love me this much, willingly give yourself to me, to our family…."
Christine reached up pulling his neck down so she could reach his lips. She moved to within a fraction of an inch of his lips, so close her words moved them as spoke. "It is our joy, our love, thank you my angel, for loving me." She pressed her lips against his. The love of this woman had altered him, made him believe people were fundamentally good, that there was hope….he never expected that she would love him this much, to alter his reality….forever.