Chapter 116 Perceptions

Erik slipped from beneath Christine's sleeping form. She was resting peacefully and he'd no want to disturb her. Yes, it was too early to retire for the evening, but he'd let her sleep. Her grief had exhausted her, and he knew a bit of extra rest for a woman in her condition, was always favorable.

He stood over her for a few minutes, just watching her. Oh how he loved this woman that now bore the very future of their family within her womb. In those moments he felt so small, so utterly inadequate, so in need of a strength beyond that which he possessed.

He fell to his knees beside the bed. Reaching out laying one hand on Christine's abdomen, reaching out to hold her hand with the other. He lowered his head saying a silent prayer. "Dear Lord, I entrust to you all that you have given me. Protect them Lord, let them grow in your love, and in mine. Please give me the strength and wisdom to do all that you would have me to do for them. Give Christine good health in mind and body…" his throat was swollen, barely able to think as he spoke the last words out loud quietly, "and may you hold this woman…my wife…the mother to my children…in the palm of your hand. Amen"

Erik turned his head upward looking at the ceiling as he rose once more. He'd have faith, he had to, for what was faith if not the belief that a greater good is served by all that is out of one's control? For if you'd no faith…what was the point of existence? As he stared up at the angels he'd painted years before, he marveled at it. He'd never expected to have them there for more than decoration, and now it seemed, they would serve a second higher purpose…to watch over all that he held dear in this world.

He left the room, closing the door as quietly as he could, lest he raise her from her slumber. Erik wandered down the hall. They'd soon be needing to decide which room they would turn into a nursery, he thought, and now was as good a time as any. He loved surprising Christine…being one step ahead of her.

He walked into the room across the hall. It was large, which would be a benefit, considering the number of them, but it seemed almost too large, a bit impersonal. That would not do. He walked to the room that had the largest number of windows. The light would be good, but it was in his opinion too far away. He wandered back down to the room that adjoined theirs. It had been built as a sitting room for the master chambers, but perhaps it would be adequate he thought to himself, at least that first year.

A broad smile crossed his face as he entered the room. For there, in the center, was a rocking chair. He walked over to it sitting down and gazing upon Christine's sleeping in the bed. She'd already decided, and he had to say, from his vantage point, as he sat rocking back and forth staring at Christine, he couldn't agree more. The coming weeks were likely to be very quite as they waited for word from Paris, perhaps they could begin with plans to transform this room into a functioning nursery. It had been some time since Erik had taken up his pen to draft a drawing, but it would be a labor of love. He smiled. He had brought back catalog sheets from the mercantile that very afternoon. Various styles of cribs and other items one would need to furnish a nursery properly. He thought he had been planning ahead of Christine and would be prepared for her when she was ready…but now it seemed…she'd already been contemplating the very same things! It may take a lifetime Erik mused, to not be surprised by how very much they thought alike, but for now, it still amazed him.

He rocked back and forth, back and forth, imagining spending hours in that very chair, rocking their children as he sang them a lullaby, as Christine sang them a lullaby, as they shared in the care of their children….together. He closed his eyes and began to hum a lullaby in his head…he'd learned a few, but quickly made up his mind, he'd add to the one's that he already knew…each child would have their own unique set of lullabies, he'd decided, so that as much as they were siblings, they would each have an individual identities, complete with a set of music that was all their own….right from the beginning. Though he'd thought he'd rested well, it wasn't long before a heavy sleepiness settled in upon him. He'd started to slip into the netherworlds of slumber when he felt something touch his hand. It was Christine She was climbing into his lap.

"Hold me…" she said as she pulled the blanket she'd brought with her over them both. "The day is growing cold…a storm is coming….I can feel it." She said as she sleepily rested her head in along Erik's neck. Erik wrapped his arms around her squeezing her shoulders once before settling in with his arms protectively around her. He was content to stay there as long as she liked.

She whispered into his neck, "at least we are certain that this chair is sturdier than that crate!" Erik laughed as he placed a kiss on her temple, as he remembered the event, it had been humorous indeed, and thinking of it even now, gave him cause to laugh. "Yes it is my dear, yes it is."

XXXX

Meg held her breath as the carriage grew larger and larger. Her eyes darting to the front of the house and the back. She'd have so little opportunity to make a decision if it was the wrong carriage that approached. She watched as the carriage pulled closer to the house. Her heart sank…it was Raoul's father! She could neither run to the back of the house for she'd be discovered, nor run to the stables, as she'd most certainly be found…she began to breathe rapidly, starting to feel faint…

She stopped herself…she couldn't do that, she couldn't do that…however would she explain being found in the bushes outside the house…they'd think her to have been driven quite mad! She crouched as low as she could until she heard Raoul's father's voice, giving orders for the coachman to wait there. Meg watched as a deep scowl crossed his face. He walked a few steps toward the side of the house, he'd heard the music. He took a yet a few more steps peering around the tall foliage. Meg was terrified, he was not ten feet from where she sat crouched in the bushes. He walked even closer until he stood directly next to her. If he were to look down, just on the other side of the waist-high shrubbery, she'd be found!

He stood there for what seemed to Meg like an eternity before he turned and retreated, mumbling under his breath "darned fool, how would this look if someone paid him a visit unexpectedly!"

Meg wanted to laugh at his obvious agitation. He was something of a curmudgeon Meg thought…never wanting anyone to partake in the simplistic pleasures of every-day life. No doubt Raoul would be scolded for this…no less than twice in one day!

Meg winced as the carriage drove round the side of the house. The carriage driver having an obviously higher vantage point would be able to see her. She crouched lower, and decided to lay down flat against the ground, just slightly under the bushes…it was the only chance she had. She could hear the horses breathing, the slow rattle of the wheels over the crushed stone. After the carriage rattled off, she took in a deep breath. That had been far too close.

Now she was wishing she'd simply opened the back door to the terrace, and stood outside on the bricks with the staff who stood watching over the rest. At least then she'd have just received a partial scolding, and it would have been forgotten. This behavior, was entirely out of the ordinary…entirely like someone who felt they had to sneak about…had something to hide.

Then she had an epiphany…perhaps it was her conscience that led her to do these outlandish things…she did have something to hide, and it was driving her to the very brink of insanity. Though she could tell no one, her anxiety was coming out in other less expected ways…

She was working quickly in her mind, she needed to find a way back into that house and soon, before everyone discovered her missing! There was a trellis not far from where she stood, leading up into Raoul's room. She looked up, he did have one of his windows open. She grabbed onto the side of the trellis, giving it a good shake. It seemed to be sturdy enough. She looked down at her full skirt. This would indeed be a challenge.

She looked both ways. As far as she could tell, no one could see her. Lifting her skirt to her waist, her bloomers were on display for any who might happen upon her. She would have to move quickly. She pressed her feet into the first rungs as she lifted herself from the ground. The wooden structure creaking a bit under the strain of having something much heavier than a wandering ivy on it. She stopped. She shook it once more. It felt secure. Slowly she climbed up two more rungs, fighting with her skirt. Then she heard it. Yet another carriage was approaching.

She quickly retreated down the trellis, nearly tripping on the way. Meg sat crouched where she was before and watched as the carriage drove passed her and on toward the stables. Surely this was yet another one of the deliveries. Meg could hear Raoul's staff clapping.

She took herself to the corner of the house again, peering around just above the shrubs. The men were helping to carry off large baskets, and several large pots. "Raoul had dinner brought for them…" Meg thought to herself. Perhaps he always treated them to such festivities, though she thought perhaps not, they seemed to be enjoying it much more than if it had been an every-day occurrence.

Meg watched as the staff moved into the side of the stable house that contained their dining room. The man who'd been standing at the door into the house had gone down to the carriage, and Meg had started to creep beyond the corner, but quickly had to return to her hiding place as he began walking toward the house carrying a rather large basket covered in a fine white linen. He opened and closed the door behind himself.

This was Meg's chance, if ever she was to have an opportunity, this would be it. She ran quickly toward the front of the house, Raoul's father was on the front stoop having a cigar muttering to himself. She ran quickly back to the back of the house and scooted to just below the window of the kitchen that overlooked the back gardens. The man was helping Madeline unload the contents of the basket. Meg snuck to the door, but could see that the library door was open, and she'd be discovered by Raoul and her mother if she entered there.

She held her breath once more, and then, without thinking of the consequences, she went back to the corner of the house, running across the open space from one side of the graveled path to the other, making her way to the line of shrubs that led along the path extending down to the carriage house. She ran, half-crouched over down the outside of the shrubs until she reached the carriage house and quickly ducked into the first unlatched door she could find, closing it behind her.

She was breathing heavily as she leaned back against a post, or something wooden, she couldn't quite tell what it was. Her eyes were wide. Why had she run down to the carriage house? Now what on earth was she going to do? Step by step she'd only made matters worse for herself…her guilt had driven her beyond reason, and now she seemed to be confused by even the most obvious things.

As her eyes adjusted to the light within the room, she began to recognize what she was leaning against…it was the posters of the bed she'd been sleeping in. She spun around on her heels. There was the chase, the armoire, the dresser, the vanity…all of the things from her room were in there…but why? She thought Raoul had simply had them moved to another…. Her eyes grew glassy…her first instincts had been right…he'd been making changes…changes for her.

She smiled as she thought of the lengths he'd gone to to keep it a secret from her. She had to find a way back into that house, lest she spoil his surprise. Then it hit her. The small night table, the one containing the bottles from the doctor…it had to be in there. This would be her one chance to retrieve them, for certainly the contents of this storehouse was not going to be within her grasp again.

She began moving about, as quietly as she could. So many things were stacked on one another, a shame, Meg thought, for such nice furnishings to be stored in such a manner. Any young woman would have loved to have owned even one piece of them. She moved pictures, and basins, a chair, a pile of curtains. She'd nearly given up when at last she found it.

Quickly reaching out she pulled the drawer open, withdrawing the two tiny bottles. She turned to leave, climbing over all of the chairs and furnishings. She carefully peeked out the door. There was still no one outside, the man must still be inside assisting Madeline, but Meg knew he wouldn't be much longer. She opened and closed the door, crouching low she made her way as quickly as she could along the edge of the shrubbery. She paused, panting at the corner of the shrubs before she darted across the gravel path and back to the house.

She leaned heavily against the brick, trying to catch her breath. She heard the door to the back of the house close once more, and the scraping of what she was certain was a chair. She peered around the corner, and sure enough, there sat the man, a plate of food in his hands, resting in his chair. That would not be her entrance.

She made her way back to the front of the house, pausing briefly to look at the trellis…she'd try the front door first. Slowly she peered around the corner of the front of the house. Raoul's father must have gone inside. She quickly darted to the window of the parlor, peering in she saw that the room was still empty. So far they'd not noticed her missing. She inched over to the door, and pressed her ear against it. She could hear nothing. Carefully she turned the handle, slowly pushing it open. She peered inside. There was no one in the hall. She darted in quickly, closing the door and scurrying to the parlor door, opening and closing it as quickly as she could.

She heard footsteps in the hall. She nearly lept to chair in front of the fire as the the door opened. "Meg has been resting before dinner, I'll retrieve her and then join you in the dining room." Meg looked down, her dress had dried grass on the front, she brushed it off as the door began to open. Raoul walked in, a large smile on his face, a bit more twinkle in his eye than usual.

He came to Meg, his face quickly changing to a blank face of worry. "Meg, you look…" he was staring at her, her rapid breathing making him nervous, "you look flushed my dear…are you alright?" He came to kneel at her side.

She deposited the two bottles of pills deeply between the cushions of the chair. She'd have to return for them later. "Why yes, I guess I'm just a bit warm sitting here by the fire…" she had to think quickly…. "and I'm a bit nervous to have dinner with your father.."

Raoul's face immediately returned to his relaxed state. He reached out taking Meg by the hand. "Do not worry for my father, he will be most amenable my dear. You have my word." Raoul leaned down placing a kiss on Meg's flushed forehead. "You are warm aren't you my dear." He said as he extended his arm to her.

She took it, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd have dinner, try to forget what just happened, and return for those bottles later. A little tickle came from behind her ear as she walked with Raoul. She reached up, and retrieving a lady bug.

"Wherever did you find that?" Raoul said to her. "It must have come in by itself!" was all Meg could manage. She just hoped that no other bugs would present themselves at the dinner table. That is what she deserved for hiding in the bushes!

XXXX

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage wheels hit the cobblestone streets of Paris. They'd made it that far, and no sight of Crawlings. The trip had been slower than he liked because of the cargo, but he was grateful that they had made it without incident Sara would soon be at her husband's side, where she belonged.

The carriage made a turn to the left and wandered down LeMortum street. It was one nearly every carriage avoided unless given no choice. It was called the "the street of the dead" by all in Paris. School boys made dares of bravery for anyone who could walk down the street from end to end, and nearly fell at the feet genuflecting to anyone who did so after dark. The buildings were not ominous, just a simple row of brick structures, each cleverly named, all the same purpose. The dark alley behind them was a place none ventured, not even on a dare. A river of blood ran there, and no one ventured there….no one.

A cold wind whistled through the street, adding a chilling affirmation to the street's reputation. The carriage slowed in front of the undertaker selected by Erik to handle Sara's final arrangements. Perdue was known for his discretion, and his tact. All of the wealthy families made their arrangements there for a variety of all too obvious reasons. Erik held him in the highest regard one can for one that does such work for a living.

Nadir slowly disembarked the carriage, unassisted by the carriage driver, who shaw fit to stay in his perch above the carriage. An icy chill went up Nadir's back as he saw curtains move on several of the other buildings on either side, but no faces appeared.

He walked up the plank-lined path to the front door of the establishment. A rather large door-knocker lay in the center of an oversized door…no doubt made large enough to allow for the passage of a casket of considerable size. He knocked several times, lightly at first, and then harder when no response was made; the reverberating echo as shrill and piercing as the place itself. After several minutes of waiting, he returned to the carriage. It was as he suspected, too late to be paying a visit. He felt a bit of relief once back inside the carriage. He noticed the driver made haste removing them from the street. The hairs on the back of Nadir's neck were raised slightly, he wasn't afraid really, just unsettled, yes…unsettled he decided as he reached up his hand to smooth them back down.

XXXX

Madame Giry, Meg, Raoul, and his father had all settled around the formal dining room table. The fine blue rimmed china set out in front of them, several wine glasses each, and a water goblet. Finger bowls, and seafood forks, bread and butter plates, and a small shallow dish for bones sat next to each plate.

The utensils were daunting for the untrained, and Meg felt as if it were yet another one of the many tests that she'd have to pass. Thankfully her mother had seen fit to train her as a proper young woman. Though their diet usually consisted of the whatever the cooks at the Opera Populaire made for them, her mother had spent many an evening when she was growing up, rehearsing her table manners. She could almost hear her mother "manners are of the utmost importance my dear. Knowing how to use one's utensils, and having proper social graces, are means not only for the wealthy but for the refined, one never knows to whose house they might be invited for dinner."

Her mother always tried to emphasize the positive, truly Meg knew she hoped, as the mother of every other young girl hoped, that she would make a good match one day, and being well trained only assisted one down that path.

Raoul's father had already relaxed himself with a glass of sherry, but nodded fondly at the maid who would serve them the first in a flight of wines. A half-inch was poured in his glass as he raised it to assess the color, the clarity, the bouquet, before taking his first sip, dabbling it on his palate before nodding in assent.

"Chardonnay Miss?" Meg nodded. The maid went around filling the glasses for each of them. Meg took her silent cues from Raoul, when he lifted his glass for a sip, she knew she might do so as well. The first course was oysters. Though Meg had them only twice before, she knew how to handle the tools correctly so as not to catapult the shells across the room when clasped by the utensil. She and her mother had fits of laugher the first night she'd used them. No less than a dozen times, the oyster had slipped from the clamp and flown across the room. It took a bit of finesse to use one, but once mastered, it was almost artistic to observe.

That course done, Meg felt a sigh of relief. The wine had been selected especially for the oysters, and she had to say it was a welcome relief to have something pleasant on her tongue. Oysters were an acquired taste. The next course was a light vegetable bisque. The art of using a soup spoon Meg had mastered when she was but a small girl, so this gave her little cause for worry.

The next course was the proper lemon sorbet to cleanse the palate. So far Meg had been able to handle the food with casual indifference, which is what was expected of high society. Though she'd shared lunch with Raoul and his father a number of times, this was the first time it had been so many courses, and she knew, though he'd not admit it, Raoul's father was watching her for any missteps in manner or method.

The sorbet finished, Meg knew a new glass of wine would be served so she moved her current glass off slightly to the side, indicating that she was finished with it. She caught that Raoul's father raised his eyebrow…indeed, she'd been instructed well.

Her mother had maintained pleasant conversation throughout the dinner, having more than enough to talk about regarding the Opera House dormitories, and some of the revisions that had been made. She'd not yet brought up her living quarters…how does one properly thank an employer for such an extravagance?

Next came the salad, along with a glass of Riesling. The order of the courses was somewhat altered from what Meg had seen, but she'd acted as though she'd not taken notice, yet another sign of good-breeding.

The main course was stuffed goose, carved at the table by DeChagny himself. Meg had selected several slices, with a wee bit of the cranberry relish that lay in a small dish beside each plate. Madeline entered carrying two bottles of wine, one red, one white. DeChagny's final test… He turned to Meg, "and which should we have my dear, the Fleurie Beaujolais, or the Pinot Blanc?"

Meg tried not to smile, this was designed to be a trick question. Most would think foul, therefore white, but Meg knew that goose was the exception, for goose it was red. "With our sumptuous goose, I should think the Fleurie Beaujolais would be excellent" she said politely. DeChagny gave Meg what she thought might be the first genuine smile.

"I couldn't agree more my dear." The cork was removed, and glasses served. She'd passed, and she was relieved. The only thing to remain after the main course was dessert, and even a street peasant couldn't make a mistake there. For but one utensil remained for each in the place setting….the quintessential dessert fork.

Raoul waited until Madame Giry and his father were in deep conversation again about the Opera House before he glanced down the table at Meg. He smiled at her, dipping his head slightly in recognition. She'd done well, though he wouldn't have cared if she had not. It simply made things much less complicated for his father. It took a very long time for one to enter his good favor, and Meg had just earned her first interest in moving there.

Author's Notes:

Dear Faithfuls: I don't know where everyone lives, but where I live, fall was in the air this morning! I love autumn…I think I've mentioned that a time or two. This chapter made me hungry for a good old fashioned turkey dinner! Sorry if I've put anyone in the mood for a major "food-fest", there is just something about the air this time of year!

Captain Oblivious: Ah yes, the apartment-style dorm. They are rather nice aren't they? You do have a bit more room, and at least some way of getting away from your room mate, even if she is one of your best friends! Oh, those were the days…

Yes, Meg and Raoul's relationship has many facets. There is the temporal world of simplicity that they are living in now, but there are some pretty difficult things that lurk behind the dark corners they have yet to traverse….

DarkMoonLightBright: Of course your little Phamily understands that you have been busy. Busy is happy, and happy is busy… you get the idea. Sometimes the people we care about the most we don't hear from as often as we like, but usually in those cases no news is good news! Thank you for the compliment on the chapters. I hope you'll find this one no less pleasing!

PhantomsRogue: Good for you, Dell came through…hey, that rhymes! Well, good to hear everything is back in working order, and that the puppy must have survived! Do not worry my dear, I've no intentions of depriving Erik of his Christine! I didn't say it would be easy though. Now, now, we've talked about that work thing….I don't want anyone being unemployed because of me! Do be careful my dear.

PhantomLover05: Do not worry about Christine…..Erik will do enough worrying no doubt for all of us!

ChristinelovesPhantom: You could say "Love" isn't far strong enough a word for the way I feel about chocolate! I'm glad your dad would be a bit more understanding than Erik for raiding his stash! Very fun to get to visit your alma mater! Have a great lunch, and by all means, have a little chocolate!

No my dear, my college education is but a memory for me. I am out in the world just making my way I guess you could say. I do cherish my school memories though…"those were the best of times, and the worst of times." LOL

Poetzproblem: My, my, that active imagination is at work again isn't it! Yes, our little Meg is more distraught than I think she even realizes. There is something about the inner torment of knowing something that you cannot tell someone, especially if it is something that they desperately want to know….she will struggle for it…bad decisions and all!

Crayann: Good to hear from you! We miss our Phamily members when they are away! Thank you for you kind words regarding the chapter. And yes, I am toying with the idea of publishing, but until the work is done, I must keep my focus here… Thank you also for thinking about the bit with Nadir and Sara. I too often wonder how I would feel if someone else sacrificed themselves for someone I loved…I think I would be doing the whole "it should have been me…..I wanted to do it" sort of mental torment. Glad someone picked up on it!

PhantomFan13: No, I've not see Sara Brightman, but I have seen POTO on stage a number of times…I must say….I love the movie more. They were able to do so many things that just cannot be during a live production. And of course, they could embellish the stages, etc.

Glad to hear you like the little "Puff the Magic Dragon" diversion…it is a whimsical song isn't it?

Tex110: Got it…makes sense to me. The numbers in tag names always interest me, they are never just random. Oh, Colorado….a beautiful place, I've been there several times. I really like being at a ranch outside for a "cowboy" dinner. Something about being surrounded by those majestic pines out in the middle of what seems like no where, around a campfire with a hundred other people you don't really know…it was fun!

Draegon-Fire: I know just what you mean. I know most people like to read the book first, but when I do that I tend to be far more critical of the movie, and it completely messes with my perspective of the place, the characters etc. BUT, if I see the movie first, then I don't have any misconceptions…all that to say..I agree.

Yes, most certainly there is a need for a few transitional chapters before another flurry of things can start happening….Good that you picked up on that.