Nadir removed his coat and traveled to his bag to retrieve his nightclothes. He barely had time to pack it when they departed, but knew that the bare essentials would be inside. He nearly toppled over as he dug about in it in the dark. He knew it had been organized when they left, but the travel had rearranged everything. He'd not intended to light the room, as his the weight of his head begged him to retire, but he had no choice in the matter.
He felt his way to the bed, and to the nightstand that sat next to it. There was a box of matches and a sturdy little pillar in a holder. In no time Nadir had the candle lit. Holding it in his hand he went back to the bag retrieving what he needed. He stopped. Lifting the candle out in front of him, he surveyed the room. Certainly this was a place that dignitaries would have appreciated.
One wall was lined with bookcases, partially filled with bound volumes. Large oversized leather chairs, a bearskin rug, and an antique spittoon sat in front of the fireplace. The rich dark wood screamed of masculinity and wealth.
Nadir's eyes were heavy, but he simply needed to explore the room before he could ever hope to sleep. There were several doors on each side. One he had entered through, leaving three to discover. The room was rather large for a guest room he thought to himself. Many master bedchambers weren't even of a size like this.
The first door produced a large closet, empty with the exception of several additional blankets, and a brass box containing additional logs for the fireplace. The third door was a small, but well appointed water closet. Nadir could only imagine what the last door contained.
He opened it slowly, and was puzzled. Not three feet from this door, in a very narrow corridor, was yet another door. He scowled slightly, putting his hand on the knob, opening the door just slightly. There was a faint glow of light as Nadir walked through the passage. He stopped in his tracks when he realized where he found himself. There, sound asleep on the divan, book splayed in her lap, her legs daintily hanging off the side, was Madame Giry. Nadir smiled, quickly moving back into the corridor, pulling the door closed. He was glad she was near…it was good to have a true friend in the house at his disposal. It would make things so much easier. He'd not say a thing, he would wait for Madame Giry to discover the door for herself.
It took Nadir little time before he was in his bedclothes, reclining in a superbly comfortable bed. He looked up at the ceiling with wonder. There on the ceiling was painted the scenes of a great hunt. It reminded him of the long evening he'd spent conversing with De Chagny. Though many a man many feared him, Nadir couldn't imagine why. No doubt he had the luxury of not being within his grasp, but still, he was a rather intriguing man. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't feel the need to put on airs, or that someone who posed him no threat could converse with him on subjects few others appreciated. Whatever the case was, Nadir was thankful that he'd laid the foundation of rapport with the man. Lady luck had smiled on him tonight, helping him to keep at least one of his promises. "Much to do, much to do." Nadir muttered to himself as he closed his eyes.
XXXXX
De Chagny lowered himself into his nightly ritual. The water was no longer hot, but that was no fault of the servants. The bath had been prepared hours before. Still comfortable, the menthol and sea salts made it pleasant, though it was not the boiling of a lobster pot that he preferred. Growing older, he'd decided was a most unpleasant proposition. Though he'd recanted many stories of sleepless nights and victorious hunts, he'd been speaking of a much younger man than the one now soaking his pains in the depth of a tub.
His eyes were heavy, but his spirit was lighter. He felt as though a burden had been lifted. Something about Nadir had made him let down his guard. He seemed trustworthy and sincere, rare qualities in men these days, he thought to himself. Nadir stood to gain nothing, he reassured himself, for he wasn't even a citizen of Paris. What profit would it bring him to share such private matters? He hated second guessing himself…but it was too late…the damage, if there was to be any, was already done. He could only hope now that the man was, as he said, true to his word.
He looked up at the portrait that hung over the fireplace in the room he'd occupied at Raoul's these last months. His lovely, devoted, caring wife. He had loved her so. How he wished now that he'd been more diligent in fighting for her. Helped her to reclaim her family. It was heartbreaking to think they'd been separated simply because she loved him. He smiled thinking of her with the children, and how wonderful a wife she had been.
The smile changed as his face went blank. His upper lip quivered. "Claire…:" the name rolled off his tongue. He hadn't though about her in years. Whatever had happened to her would forever be a mystery. That was years ago, a lifetime ago. Surely she'd married someone suitable in her father's eyes. Had gone on to have a happy life, a lovely family. One could only hope she'd found such happiness. Something in him still missed her, still regretted much….
He stiffened, scowling. He could not allow himself this luxury. He needed to be strong, to be the man that one born with the good name of De Chagny should be. He sighed, it was time for bed, time for rest, and then time for business when the sun rose.
XXX
"The End." Erphan rubbed his eyes sleepily. He'd not finished a book that quickly in quite some time, perhaps ever. He turned over, looking down at the sleeping horses in the stable below, and then reached over and turned down the lamp.
He was smiling from ear to ear. He'd had a wonderful day. A good meal, a few lessons in manners which were always welcome, and in the morning he'd put on his first new suit of clothes in over a year. Yes, his other stitches were acceptable when clean and pressed, but there was something about having new clothes that made one feel so much more a gentleman.
As he settled into bed he thought about the new name he'd been given. "Erphan…what an odd lot had befallen him. He'd no idea why this had tickled his master so, but if that is what he preferred to call him, he shan't object. Being addressed by name, he guessed, was preferable to a general command containing no sense of individuality at all!
As Erphan drifted off to sleep, he thought of the strong argument he'd had with the clock maker. The man was insistent that he could not let that clock go. It had been commissioned years ago, a present for a birthday girl. Sadly, the man who'd paid for it never had come to collect it.
The clockmaker couldn't bring himself to sell it, as such a lovely inscription had been carved into the wood just inside the case. It had set in his shop as a monument to his work all those years. He had finally relented when Erphan had recounted a brief story about a young bride, whose husband had just been healed from a great sickness. She'd fancied the clock as they passed, remembering one similar to it in her childhood. The clock maker had struggled with it, but in the end decided the clock would have a happier home somewhere that new life was growing, and his work was admired. That night before he'd retired, the clock had been carefully wrapped. It would soon find a new home, one that it seems it was made for.
Author's Notes:
Thanks for all the reviews! Vegas was great. I hope to get in a few more personal notes with the next chapter...I missed all of you terribly. I hope this chapter is enjoyable for everyone!