Though the household was quite accustomed to being on their own, the staff at Courtland Manor had become rather attached to the comfortable routine that having a full house provided. Now, they'd prepared several meals, which they'd eaten themselves rather than waste, and they sat idly by awaiting some news, any news of the return of their keeps.
They mumbled amongst themselves at Sara's obvious lack of attentiveness to her duties. "Just because the master is absent does not give her leave of her duties!" they grumbled. They'd never become that close to Sara. Though she was a friendly woman, she'd not gossip with the rest of them, and preferred reading in solitude to the nights spent chatting about the family by the fire. She'd have much work to catch up on when she returned they'd see to it.
The butcher would be making his normal deliveries tomorrow, and the market would have to be visited. Now the quandary was, how many would be returning, or would it be the staff alone once more. Surely they'd not keep them in suspense for that much longer. Now with both carriages gone, they'd have to hook up the cart to pull into town to fetch supplies.
There were rumblings amongst the stable hands about sending out a search party. It was the hope that they'd been detained for good reason and had not succumbed to the treachery that so very often took place on the country roads as of late. Crime was on the rise, with predators preferring the open expanses of the country to wage their misdeeds. Stories at the taverns abounded of such debauchery. They'd set their minds to sending someone out looking in the morning if no one returned.
XXXX
The sunset ride into Chauesser had been uneventful and pleasant. The coachman had ridden rather slowly, having a lady at his flank he'd wanted to maintain a respectful speed. Though they'd been one another's company, they'd each ridden alone in their thoughts.
The coachman was busy trying to guess at the ending of 'Oliver Twist'. Christine had been thinking about Meg, about Raoul, and the two of them together. Her dreams didn't frighten her any longer, they had been played out. What lingered now was a wonder what all this might mean for them.
Erik was lost in his thoughts of a life gone by, a distant past. Persia had many detractions and distractions. Erik had enjoyed some influence there, and nothing had been out of his reach. Though he'd only relaxed his guard to liquor, which flowed freely, he'd known the company of many a woman who'd all but begged for him to be their suitor. It was this last thing that disturbed him most. He belonged only to Christine, had only ever belonged to Christine, but the thought of other women gazing upon him was a bit unsettling now. Without his mask, he was more vulnerable to their prying eyes than he had ever been.
The last time he'd been in Persia, before he and Nadir fled, they'd been at a magnificent soiree. He'd entertained many, for that was his function. It was not the act of socializing that bothered him, it was being KNOWN that tortured him. He'd no mask to hide behind tonight.
He grimaced as the lights of the town became brighter. It would not be long before he'd be inside of a tavern or inn, pushed into the company of those he had nothing in common with, nor cared to know. Perhaps the dinner would be quickly consumed and they'd be on their way. Yet he knew they'd have to stop for some sort of provisions. With any luck, they'd find a textiles merchant open so they could at least purchase some things to make their wait for fresh clothing a bit easier.
Christine turned back to see Erik mumbling to himself. She pulled on the reins of her horse, slowing it to a canter until Erik's horse came along side. "Now my dear, what is it that you'd fancy? Do you know the village well?"
Erik pressed to service, searched his mind. "Yes there are several places, provided they are still there, that we could dine in relative peace."
"Perhaps you should lead the way?" Christine encouraged him to move forward. He smiled at her briefly before moving up along side the coachman. Christine could see him motioning with his arms, pointing with his hands, and making movements that looked like he was speaking of stables around the back of a building.
Erik slowed and now his horse and Christine's rode breast by breast. "I'll take you to a place called Christina Campbells. It has wonderful roasted game from what I recall. I've never stayed at the winter house until just now, so the meals I've had here were few, but I recall they were quite good." Erik smiled at her. He really wasn't sure what to expect. He remembered only that they had private tables separated by curtains, and the staff were most amiable. He could only hope the ambiance had not changed.
XXXX
Nadir heard the staff rushing about to greet Raoul's father. No doubt from the flurry of activity his arrival produced, his reputation for being demanding was one that was well deserved.
Raoul was at the top of the stairs as his father entered the house. "Raoul?" Came his powerful voice. "Where are you man, I've something to share with you!"
He turned toward the parlor, a stiff brandy on his mind. He stopped abruptly as he saw this stranger drinking Raoul's brandy, smoking one of his finest cigars. For once, in only a handful of times in his life, he was truly speechless.
Raoul come out from behind his father. "Allow me to introduce the two of you."
Nadir appeared aloof. Taking another puff of his cigar as he reached out his hand to shake De Chagny's. He'd not let the man intimidate him. He neither knew Nadir, or of his standing in society. Nadir intended to keep him guessing. He'd learned over time the less an adversary understood about you, the more off guard one could catch them. Nadir had much to learn about this man, about his past, about the relationships that he had, if he'd ever have any hope of getting to the bottom of the origins of the picture that Meg had given him.
"Nadir, this is my.." Nadir stepped forward, "yes, yes, your father." Nadir shook his hand firmly, making full eye contact. "I'd recognize him anywhere, good Lord, his picture is all over this house!" Nadir pointed up to the portrait that hung over the mantel in the parlor. "Though you were a much younger bloke in that one eh?" Nadir reached out tapping him on the shoulder. Raoul's father smiled coolly at him, his eyes slightly narrowed.
"Now what of this that you need to tell me?" Raoul said looking at his father. "Son, could we go into…" Raoul waived his hand in the air in his father's direction as he went to retrieve a brandy for him.
"No need, Nadir has been privy to all of the details of recent events." Raoul said, setting the opened decanter down heavily on the table. His father took the brandy that Raoul handed him.
"Ah yes," his father responded, flashing a distrusting glance toward Nadir.
Raoul poured himself a glass, and moved forward refilling Nadir's. At Raoul's own behest, Nadir was now in the inner-circle, and his father would make a fool of himself to disagree with Raoul in front of his guest.
"I'm to tell you that the officers need nothing further from you or Meg. We've seen to that man's final bills at the Starboard, and even now are making final arrangements to have him buried along side that scallywag of a father of his." He paused pouring the entire drink down his gullet in one fluid motion. He moved toward the decanter to refill his glass. Though Raoul neither stopped or nor tried to dissuade him, he secretly hoped his father would quit at two. Subsequent liquor tended to make his pretentious snobbery even more exaggerated, and the fuse to his infamous temper much shorter.
"Good, thank you. I still find it deplorable that the Starboard would employ such a man." Raoul was shaking his head. "And how did you know of this? You'd not known the man's identity when I left this morning!" His father said, rather irritated. "Meg, father. We'd spent the afternoon in the garden today, she spoke of it. The poor woman peered under the canvas as the man lay dead at that cottage, she recognized him."
Something in Nadir shivered in anger. The indignity. Erik's well appointed winter house was hardly a cottage. To hear them refer to it in such a slighting manner made him feel indignant.
The senior De Chagny continued in his authoritative manner, although what he said next Nadir already knew. "As it turns out, the young man had a history. He came from a rather nefarious family." He flashed a wicked smile, thinking he was about to reveal the most intriguing bit of news the pair had heard all day. Raoul looked at him with a furrowed brow.
"And what of that?" "His father was Joseph Crawlings, the man who died at the hands of Meg's aunt Elizabeth!" Raoul blanched, could it be so?
Nadir sipped on his brandy, putting the cigar once more to his lips, the smoke trailing out between them as he exhaled. Raoul's father looked at him, Nadir returning his glance with equal intensity.
Nadir strolled towards the decanter of brandy freshening his drink though it hardly needed it. He tipped the decanter toward the other two men as if to inquire if they needed more, they declined. He put the top on the decanter and took a sip from his glass before walking back to where Raoul and his father stood.
"That is not all," he said glancing now towards Raoul. The senior De Chagny flashed a disapproving, but guarded look at Nadir. "What is the meaning of that is not all?" he huffed.
Nadir puffed once again on his cigar, walking over and sitting on one of the divans, motioning for Raoul and his father to do the same. Nadir was rather gifted at spinning a yarn. Tonight would be no different. He had to make Raoul's father feel like he'd been taken into his confidence, had become an information source of distant lands. This would only aid in his quest to get him to let down his guard.
"After you and Meg departed from the winter house on your way to Paris, the good doctor and I returned to Courtland Manor to retrieve Madame Giry as you and I had agreed. When we arrived we found that one of our maids had gone to the winter house to be of some assistance, as we had not returned."
Nadir sat back sipping his brandy. To draw out his words only heightened the anticipation of the listener. "Yes, do go on," Raoul said, a look of worry in his eye. "Well, we must have passed her somehow when we left the road to water the horses, but irregardless she made it all the way to the winter house unescorted." He reached out snuffing his cigar in the over-sized crystal tray on the table, as he exhaled the last of the smoke, it swirling around his head. He took another sip of his brandy.
"I'm afraid to say that she found quite a mess when she arrived, and had gone about trying to clean it up, and that is when it happened." He stood, traveling back toward the brandy decanter. This time Raoul's father accepted the invitation of having his glass refilled. Nadir poured some and then returned the decanter to the table.
Raoul was not as skilled at this game, and said rather impatiently "what happened?" Nadir looked at him solemnly. "Our maid met her demise there I'm afraid. It seems that Ronaldo had not traveled there alone."
Raoul's father's eyebrows raised high. Nadir knew he had placed the hook correctly, he smirked. "The last thing that poor woman said when we found her was what the man had hissed at her before he pulled the trigger….blood for blood….you've taken my father, my brother, and now you shall pay with your life!"
Raoul and his father were aghast. Now there was yet another Crawlings about! "And what of the man? Where is he now?" Raoul implored him to tell. Nadir rubbed his chin, and straightened his jacket. "No one knows, Sara said the last she saw of him he had run out the door and taken off on a horse."
Raoul flinched, "the maid you mentioned, her name…" Nadir smiled to himself, the element of surprise had not been lost, for Madame Giry had told him of their rather complicated encounter months before at Sara's Inn. "Yes, I believe you might have known her….she came from Paris….she had an Inn there."
Raoul slumped back into the couch. "No, it simply cannot be…." His father looked at him disapprovingly. His son's emotions incensed him.
"Sara? Do you speak of the innkeeper that had a small inn across from the Opera Populaire?" Raoul's father asked.
"Why yes, I do believe that was the location. She'd followed not several weeks behind Madame Giry and her family…she'd become quite attached I'm afraid. She said she'd not have enough business to stay open with the Opera House closed, so she'd come to help them care for Stephan and Elizabeth."
To Raoul, that made perfect sense. She had been a kindly woman, with a compassionate heart as large as Paris itself. "Yes, we had the pleasure of making her acquaintance when Meg and Madame Giry stayed with her…after the fire. Sad..so sad." Raoul said looking down at the ground, taking a hard drink from his glass.
Raoul's father was about to ask Nadir of his relations to the Giry and Courtlands when Madeline entered the room. "Dinner served, come now, ready." She bowed slightly and trailed off up the stairs. "Shall we?" Raoul said. The gentlemen stood and moved toward the dining room.
XXXX
Madame Giry and Meg sat in the quiet of her room. They'd talked nearly without a breath in between words since she'd arrived.
Meg had shed tears over Sara's death, but was grateful Erik was alive. She shuddered when she found out of her attackers relation to the man Christine had killed defending Erik. A deep fear had settled upon her as she realized that yet another Crawlings lurked out there, perhaps he'd come to finish the job his brother had not. She was safe, she was safe, she was safe….she kept repeating it over and over in her mind. Raoul would be most interested to learn of this news, she'd tell him of it later.
Madame Giry sat facing her daughter. She reached up touching her face leaning in to carefully examine the stitches. "He is rather gifted,….the physician. I've never seen stitches drawn so closely together, nor thread quite this thin, it almost doesn't look like thread. It shall heal nicely Meg. I'm sure his hours of treating Erik's condition prepared him well." She shook her head, pulling back to sit next to Meg.
"My dear, when you happened upon Raoul and I in the hallway, he had just expressed his deepest apologies, he spoke of a fainting spell and of…"
Meg felt immediately uncomfortable and began to move about in the bed. "Is it hot mother? I feel so warm." Her mother put her wrist to Meg's forehead. She had no fever. She rose, dipping the cloth in the basin of now tepid water, she returned to Meg's side, washing gently over her face.
"Meg, I've no doubt that you have feelings for Raoul, and he has made it quite clear that he holds you in the highest esteem. When you found us he was about to ask…"
There was a knock at the door. "Madeline?" Meg called out, fearing someone had been outside listening to their conversation.
"Yes mum, dinner served, gentlemen wait for you. You need help with dress?"
Meg smiled, "no, but thank you." She thought for a moment, "Madeline?" "Yes mum?" "Could you come in for a moment?" Madeline curiously opened the door, coming in quickly shutting it behind her.
"Mum?" "Do come over, I'd like you to meet my mother, Madame Giry." She curtsied politely. "Mother, Madeline has been most helpful to me while I've been here, she is a dear woman." Madeline smiled at Meg's kind words.
"I shall need to thank you then Madeline, for tending to Meg while she anticipated my arrival." Madeline curtsied again.
"Dinner for you up here, not with gentlemen? You like better here?" Madame Giry looked at Meg, and with a smile replied "Madeline, if it is not too much trouble, please offer our regrets to the gentlemen, we should like very much to take our supper here."
Madeline gave her an understanding nod. "Look much better young miss, having mother here is good, yes?" Meg nodded as Madeline smiled at her and left the room.
"She's a pleasant woman Meg. I can see why Raoul would enjoy having her in his employ." Meg nodded.
"Mother, how is Christine, is she feeling better?" How Madame Giry wanted to share the news of Christine's pregnancy with her, but she had made a promise. "Yes, I think she feels better each day." That was not an untruth…a half-truth perhaps, but still not a lie.
"How are they going to get back to Courtland Manor? Surely they'll not ride horses, not after Erik's ordeal!" Madame Giry patted Meg's hand, and went about dipping the cloth and washing her hands and face as she'd done when she was a child.
"No, they'll await the return of the carriage that you and Raoul brought to Paris. The coachman will no doubt depart in the morning. Erik," she paused looking at Meg, "is it quite alright with you if I refer to him as Stephan?" Meg nodded in assent.
"Stephan insisted that the coachman not travel after dark, not with a Crawlings roaming about. It will be some while before he can be found and brought to justice. In the meanwhile, we'll dangle no bait to tempt him further. It will be but a matter of time before he realizes he'd missed his mark. Perhaps he's fled and shan't care as long as he's deprived a family of one member, but one cannot be too certain with a family such as that one!"
Meg nodded…the mere mention of the family brought back such vicious memories, she shuddered. Madame Giry looked down compassionately touching Meg's hand. "I am sorry my dear, I know this must cause you great distress. From my discussion earlier with Raoul, I'm certain that no harm will come to you as long as you are under his roof."
Meg blushed a little, before she said "you'll not mind at all…my staying here with him, until I am well enough to join you at the Opera Populaire?"
Madame Giry smiled at her. Her heart ached. While Meg may not yet have realized it, Madame Giry knew in her heart it was unlikely that Meg would ever return to the Opera House…not if Raoul had been correct in estimating her feelings for him. "I think this is where you should be just now…I think you are in quite capable hands my dear."
Madeline rapped softly as she entered the room baring a large silver platter with two domed lids and tiny pots of tea. Meg smiled at her as she put it down. "Raoul….how thoughtful." Madame Giry looked at her inquisitively. Meg smiled at her as Madeline removed the domes to reveal their dinner, perfectly placed and presented.
"Thank you Madeline." "You ring bell when done, I'll fetch tray, bring sweets." Madeline smiled as she touched the side of the pots to be certain they were sufficiently hot for brewing tea.
"Yes, and thank you Madeline, for conveying our apologies to our dinner companions." Madeline smiled, moving closer. "You much better eat here, men eat like beasts, smoke cigars, drink too much brandy." Madame Giry smiled widely, emitting a small laugh, as Madeline left the room.
"My heavens, there's enough food for four of us!" Madame Giry exclaimed. Meg was busy admiring the pots that sat next to the china. She had recognized it in an instant. She said thoughtfully, "this china belonged to Raoul's mother. He's rather fond of it…." Meg smiled at her mother, "today in the garden he told me of it, and how he used it every day now to keep the memory of his mother alive in his heart. Truly, his father would disapprove if he knew." Meg smiled again, lowering her head now following her mother's lead. Each offering their own silent prayer. Though they were different words, they circled the same people….a prayer that all would be safe and well.
"Let us enjoy this wonderful feast!" Madame Giry said. She resisted the urge to cut Meg's food for her. She needed to do this for herself, for she was no longer a child…not in anyone's eyes.
Author's notes:
Captain Oblivious: Do remember that Gerry has used a sword in a number of movies, he'd probably have no trouble making pate' out of you! Don't be jealous of the library, honestly. Though I cherish it, it is but merely four walls that provide space for me to think and write. It could be any four walls that surround you that would give you just the same feeling! It's not your physical location that matters…it's where you find yourself in your mind that gives flight to your thoughts!
Yes, the love Madame Giry and Meg share is most precious. Every young woman should be so fortunate! I have no doubt in my mind that if you woke your mother at 1:00 a.m. and told her you just wanted to give her a hug, she wouldn't mind!
Hope you enjoy the next chapters….oh…there's some good stuff on it's way….(at least in my humble opinion!)
Stellalorilai: I always feel guilty when I post an update without including you! I'd just posted the last chapter when your review came on my screen. I do so appreciate hearing from you!
Yes, I agree hearing Erik read 'Great Expectations' would be a rather urethral moment for me as well. The funny thing is really, that I could hear his voice in my head as I pictured this scene in my mind. Christine at his feet, that leather bound book in his hand, his powerful voice reading that great story, the glowing timbers of fire as the backdrop…! What a lovely little diversion!
I so agree with you in your hopes for the printing house that is venturing to print Kay's novel. I think there has been such a fervor over the original story as of late, that Kay's should have no trouble at all. Alas, if it does not sell out immediately, I shall do my part by purchasing a copy of it for every person on my Christmas list! I'd have some explaining to do no doubt, but I dare say friends and family have rather gotten used to my eclectic, sometimes eccentric choice of gifts…they most usually come with a compulsory story about their acquisition!
I hope you enjoy the next chapters. I have something rather special planned for the Friday chapter…I hope it brings as much pleasure for the reader as it did the writer!
Poetzproblem: Welcome to the family! Lurking…hmmm…somehow quite an appropriate choice of words for this story! Now, your name…does it refer to writer's block, or about the cathartic practice of airing one's problems through the writing of prose? Just a thought.
Thank you for the compliment. I am constantly humbled by the response of those who have taken the time to read this very long revision. I started this months ago in hopes of relieving my own angst with the ending of the original story. It amazes me how others have responded. Hopelessly addicted? You've just happened upon the very words I needed to describe my own fascination with the POTO story….it's rather like morphine…the more one has, the more one wants!
I hope you enjoy the newest addition!