Erik led Christine down the stairs and into the library. He smiled as he brought her into the room, the maid had kindled the fire in the fireplace as he'd requested. Erik led Christine over to the heavily blanketed bench near the window, depositing her there with a delicate brush of his lips to her forehead. There was one thing in the room that had remained covered at his request….until tonight.
He walked over touching the canvas, looking back over his shoulder at Christine…he wanted so very much to show her that he loved her, appreciated her, as the woman that she was, the woman she'd become. Mere words could not convey all that he felt in his heart for this woman. It was in his music that his power, his feelings, his passions spoke much louder than any words ever could. He walked back to Christine, leaning down he placed a tender kiss on her cheek.
"My wedding gift my love. I'd intended to give it to you once we arrived at Courtland Manor…" he averted his eyes briefly. So much had happened there, how their honeymoon period had been delayed…. He began again, "but that was not meant to be. So as this is our first night alone in our own house, it seems fitting…the snow has visited us taking us back in time…Carpe Tempus!"
Erik's smoldering eyes rested in Christine's. There was something about the tilt of his head, the way he held his shoulders, his long lean frame dressed in that dark smoking jacket…he was utterly entrancing, he was an Adonis. His words bathed her ears with what a young bride could only hope to hear from her lover. She'd never found him more hansom.
"It seems but yesterday that we exchanged our vows before your father's grave. Deep within my heart still burns for you. We are here tonight, and though a storm rages outside…I find solace in your presence. I need you as one needs air in their lungs…you are the purest truth in my life. You understand me like no other. You met me in my loneliness...when no one would listen, you heard as the outcast hears. You are for my heart and my soul a sanctuary. And though I promised to love you forever, and I shall, I want you to know that I love you in the here and now, in this moment, in these moments as our life is just beginning."
Christine was looking up at Erik her lips trembling. He still moved her, had always moved her, would always move her in a way that was like a warming waft of heated air on the coldest winter night. Entreating her to the farthest depths of her soul.
Erik lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles lovingly. The warmth of his breath on her flesh sending a shudder up her spine. He leaned over her shoulder, gently pushing aside the curtains from the window behind her.
Christine smiled as she looked out to see the heavenly sight of the world being covered in a brilliant blanket of white…there was something calming, reassuring, and entirely romantic about being in that room alone with her husband, in the quiet of their house, on a late winter night.
Erik reached down and slipped his arms under her shoulders, giving her a loving yet restrained embrace. He would not let his desires run away with him…this was about her…about his loving her with his heart, with his mind, with his soul….his flesh would have its turn.
Erik returned to the canvas, pulling it gently from the object beneath, letting it flutter to the floor. Thus revealing the most exquisite piano that Christine had ever laid eyes on. It was elaborately carved and intricately detailed. Cherubs and angels, and every other manner of heavenly hosts sculpted into the wood. It was polished to a brilliant sheen.
"Erik…" Christine gasped. He smiled at her as he lifted the lid revealing the ivory. He'd tell her the story of the piano another time. Positioning himself on the bench, he inhaled and put his fingers just above the keys. His eyes both closed. It hadn't been since the night that he'd had Christine in the caverns when he'd first revealed himself to her that he'd actually sat at a piano to play for her.
Among the many things that Christine had uncovered while he slept, she'd not found one of his most treasured compositions….and that was his love song for her…that one…he'd never been able to put on parchment. It was quite simply too deep, too personal…it resided in his heart and mind alone.
He drew in a breath. He'd rehearsed it in his mind, a hundred times, nay perhaps a thousand, but now she was here, she was his, and she carried his child in her womb…something about it seemed surreal…and he knew…he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.
He glanced over once more at Christine, silently mouthing the words "I love you…" though he'd no need to whisper it. Christine smiled at him, "please play for me…"
Erik's heart felt as if it would burst for joy…even his greatest imaginings of this dream did not compare to actually living it. Now it would become reality. His memories real memories. That alone was worth living for.
Erik closed his eyes, allowing his fingers to drop and caress the cool ivory…he began to play. The song was gentle, slow, sweetly reminiscent of something but Christine could not say what. It was Erik's music, no doubt in its tones…but….yes… he'd carefully interwoven some of the music that Christine had so come to love from her favorite Russian composer…ah…it was 'Romanze' by Tchaikovsky…she knew it instinctively.
Erik smiled at her. Her recognition of the music adding a full measure to his savoring in her pleasure.
Slowly the song moved, becoming a bit darker, a bit more of the intensity with which he'd written Don Juan. It had a pull that could not be described…it lured you…tempted you…beckoned you. Erik's eyes were tightly closed as if the music was transcending the time and place they were in. He'd repeated the first of the song a second time, as if to set the stage for words. He inhaled slightly, making Christine do the same…he was going to sing….sing just for her…
XXXX
The doctor sat back on his heels, as the woman came to rest, weeping over her husband. She was gasping, clawing at his clothes, running her hands through his hair, lifting his head, placing a gentle kiss on his parted lips. She threw her body over his torso, wailing. The doctor stood and quietly left the room. She needed time.
Once in the hallway again, he walked to the end and descended the single flight of stairs that led to the servant's kitchens. "Good sir, we shall be needing that box now." He nodded at the man who sat at the long table in front of the fire talking with another.
The pair were on their feet. They'd brought the box along with them at the doctor's behest. "It shall take me an hour or so to prepare him." The doctor looked at his watch, it was quarter past ten; far too late to pay a call on the undertaker.
"We will make the preparations and at first morning light, we shall…" The one man was shaking his head from side to side. "What is it?" The doctor said, already weary from being up all night the evening previous.
"Have you looked outside good sir?" The doctor hadn't and he couldn't imagine what the problem would be. "Do go ahead and have a look for yourself…I shan't think we'll be going much of anywhere at first light.."
The doctor sighed disgustedly walking past the pair of them pushing the curtain aside. The doctor's eyes grew wide. The snow was already half-way up the door on the house across the street. He looked up at the falling snow, and it showed no signs of stopping.
He sighed. He'd needed to get to Raoul's, to warn them….tell them what the man had said…but now…it looked liked he'd be doing nothing of the sort…he'd not even be getting home tonight.
"Blast…" he muttered under his breath. "Very well, do see to it that the box is brought up in a hour or so." The doctor turned to look at the maid who'd been up with them nearly the whole night. "Do see to it that these men have somewhere to sleep for the evening won't you?" She nodded, it had already been prepared.
He walked to the window once more looking out. The only comfort he took in the storm is that if it slowed them, it would certainly slow Crawlings….unless he'd already made his way there. If that be the case, the doctor thought to himself…there was little he could have done before. He could only pray that he hadn't.
He turned back to the maid before he returned to the upper floor. "Do bring several basins of water and soap…and a goodly bunch of towels that you shan't need returned."
XXXX
The city of Chausser had all but gone to sleep. There had been a last flurry of business at the mercantile as the townsfolk prepared to hunker down. They had watched as the sky grew dark, and the winds grew cold. The older residents had seen it before, but not for a great many years. It harkened back to the winter that seemed to go on without end…that year it had snowed nearly every week until May finally brought about enough warmth to cause the moisture to descend as rain instead of snow. It had been unseasonably warm these past weeks, and all thought Spring had arrived a bit prematurely, but Mother Nature always had the upper hand, and she would bow to no one.
Tonight the taverns were full. By the looks of the streets outside, if one did not live within the village, they would certainly have to take in the comfort of the inns, or at the home of a friend. No wagons nor beasts would be found out in this weather.
Sebastian and Pyotr sat quietly at a small table for two in the corner of the tavern. They'd had their fill of ale, and now sat with nearly empty mugs in hand. "I heard he restocked his house at the mercantile, arriving on Sunday no less, a carriage at the back filled to the rim." Sebastian took another sip from his now sickly-warm mug.
Pyotr nodded. "It certainly does not improve our situation Sebastian. We'll have no place to store our goods if they stay much longer." Sebastian put his finger to his lips.
"Pyotr we must be careful." Pyotr nodded, "you are right." "And his companion his comrade, what do you make of him?" Sebastian inquired.
Pyotr replied, "a bit guarded, and decidedly loyal. He's our best link to the man's intentions, we'll have to see to finding him again."
Sebastian nodded. "There's no doubt he's a man of means, and a private one at that. This could perhaps be more of an opportunity than one would think at first blush." Sebastian said.
"Just what do you have in mind now Sebastian." Pyotr said with a raised brow.
They sat just looking around the room. They'd spent much time in Chausser, and rumors as to their unsavory dealings abounded. Though no one really knew what the men did to earn their keep, they'd always paid their debts, seemed to keep to themselves, and were always well groomed and polite. It was all the more unsettling for the citizen's of Chausser, for they did not like, nor take kindly to that which they did not know.
Pyotr did not like the glances that they garnered. He knew full well he and Sebastian were not well received, and truly he preferred something a bit more private. "Come Sebastian, let us go in for a late supper before the kitchen closes."
Sebastian tipped his mug, the first swallow convincing him to abandon the remainder. The pair walked from the tavern out the door into the howling winds. They'd sup at another inn, one whose guests were less inquisitive. He knew just the place.
XXXXX
Nicole had unlatched the door before the dinner hour so that her grandmother might enjoy the evening with her family. The storm outside was all the deterent the woman would need tonight for surely she'd not be foolish enough to go out into the howling storm.
She'd been sent home early, her employer would call for her again if she were needed. The staff who were there now would be staying the night as it was too far for them to travel back home in this weather. Nicole was but a few doors away if it were called for.
She sat with her mother by the fire. Her mother had taken out her knitting needles and sat rocking in the chair. Her grandmother simply sat rocking, staring down into the fire. She took such pity on the woman…she always seemed to have an inner torment that would not go away. How very sad it was to be a prisoner of one's mind, so much so that one must be held nearly as a prisoner in the flesh.
Nicole was reading from her book. Though the night grew late it was as if no one wanted to retire, the storm almost commanded an audience to check on its progress from time to time. They'd simply pushed back the curtain from the window as if it were a production that they could watch by the light of the fire.
Nicole's grandmother slowly came to a stop and lifted herself from the chair. Both her daughter and granddaughter stood to help her, but she waived them off. She was making her way toward the cupboard. Though they were a family of simple means, there was one luxury that she'd always insisted on, and they'd not denied her that one pleasure.
She stood at the cupboard, withdrawing three small crystal glasses. Her shaky hand reaching inside the cupboard grasping a long-necked bottle of Chambord. It was a sweet, deep red raspberry liquor, most decidedly an acquired taste. Normally it was reserved for holidays, or special occasions. She thought tonight was as good an occasion as any. This would be a storm that they'd be remembering when they were old women themselves. One must have at least one in their lifetime. She'd been fortunate for two.
Her daughter cocked her head just slightly in wonder of it. "Mother, do you know what day it is?" She'd feared her mother's faculties had further lapsed and she'd forgotten even the time of year. Understandable with the snow falling outside.
As she poured the three glasses half-way, she said. "I haven't seen a snow this time of year since I was a young woman. That spring was the oddest spring…." Her voice trailed off. That had been the spring he'd gone missing…the boy. She shook her head. She'd not speak of it again. She knew they thought her to be quite mad. Returning the stout brown bottle to the cupboard, she pushed the door closed. Carefully, she attempted to lift the glasses to carry them to the other room.
Nicole was quickly on her feet assisting her grandmother. She smiled at her as she took the glasses from her. She handed one to her mother, sitting the other two down she assisted her grandmother back into the rocker. She smiled again handing her the glass.
The grandmother smiled as Nicole tucked the blankets around the sides of her chair. "Yes it had been an odd winter that year..it snowed every week until May…"
Her mother and Nicole smiled at one another. Tonight grandmother would share a story, something she'd not done in a long while. It made them happy to see her eyes twinkle, in those moments, she'd come back to them, sharp as a tack. Those moments were precious few these last years, and they savored each one whenever it graced them.
"Yes I remember it well. The storms that year were like this one. Strange, unpredictable, insatiable. So many folks went missing in those blizzards…." Her voice cracked. This would be difficult…but she'd leave out the worst part…the boy.
XXXXX
Madame Giry had gone with Meg into her room, taking her into the dressing closet to select a night garment. She'd put the gifts Christine had sent for her on the dressing table. "Perhaps you can wear the daffodil dress tomorrow, so you can make use of this lovely gift." Madame Giry said as she ran her hand along the silken scarf.
Meg simply mumbled in assent. Her mind wandered to the note, to the bottles downstairs, to the pages tucked neatly next to her corset. Before she changed, she needed to take care of the latter two things. Madame Giry was busying herself with the nightdress that Meg had selected.
"Mother, if you do not mind at all, I should like very much to wait to change until we've toured the room a bit. Perhaps you can tell me of the things that are here. Madame Giry smiled. "Of course my dear." She took Meg by the hand and walked back out into the bedroom proper. It amazed even her, it didn't look like the same room at all.
Madame Giry gave her a once-around, "the settees are from Valdimar's, the rug I believe is from Persia…no doubt Nadir would know. The bed is from a local craftsman, he makes beds for royalty my dear! The window dressings are from…." Her mother continued to speak, and Meg followed her around the room though she in truth paid little attention to what her mother was saying. It wasn't that she was not grateful, nor impressed. She was busily devising a plan, a plan to..
There was a knock at the door. Meg thinking it to be Madeline with a pot of tea, said, "do come in, the door is unlatched."
Raoul peeked his head inside. "May I?" Madame Giry went to the door, opening it for Raoul. "By all means." She said.
"Meg, are you becoming acquainted with your new surroundings?" Raoul said as he walked into the room. Meg blushed. She'd push aside her guilt for the time being. She needed to properly express her gratitude.
"I'm quite overwhelmed by it Raoul, your generosity…" Raoul stepped forward putting his finger gently over her lips. Madame Giry smiled, glancing down at the floor.
"Perhaps I'll check on…" thinking of no good reason to excuse herself from the room she simply said, "Meg, I'll be back in a half hour or so to assist you to bed."
Meg reached out taking her mother's hand. "Thank you…" The two women smiled at one another. "It was my pleasure." Said her mother as she left the room, nodding at Raoul, closing the door behind her.
Meg wanted to implore him to forgive her for her sudden outburst earlier. As she turned, Raoul embraced her, kissing her tenderly on the lips, as he ran his arms down around her waist. Meg nearly melted into his arms. His affections were unexpected, but not unwelcome.
Raoul pulled slightly away to look into Meg's eyes. "Meg, do not worry about tonight. I know this must be entirely overwhelming for you. This past week has been eventful for us all…so much has happened. Tonight, I saw the look in your eyes.."
Meg's eye began to tear. "It is a hard decision that you and your mother make now. You shan't be seeing Elizabeth and Stephan for some time to come…and the gifts. No doubt they triggered the emotions that overtook you. The last time you were with them, you were safe, you were happy, and you'd no idea what would come to pass."
Meg looked at Raoul with such wonder. Though he knew not even half of the truth, he knew the struggle she was going through. No one had ever taken the time to get to know her that well, and it humbled her. "Raoul I.."
He lifted his finger yet again to her lips. "Meg, before you say what you have to, please know that I love you, that I will be here for you…no matter what you decide. That which surrounds you now is but window dressing for a life we could share. But I've no want to rush you, only to comfort you. I do not want you to feel beholden to me because of this. Though it is all very pleasant, and I must say your mother has impeccable taste, it is simply things…and one cannot be loved by things…but by flesh alone. We shall take this one step at a time. Meg, you'll want to be certain of what you want before you make your decision."
Meg smiled at Raoul, leaning forward to place a kiss on his chin. Meg tilted her head toward his, her eyes staring into his. Raoul smiled. Inside his heart swelled. She'd not left him…she did love him…he could feel it. He leaned down pulling her once more into his arms. In the beauty of that room the pair stood in a tender embrace. The snow was falling just outside….the room that Raoul had prepared for her. It was Meg's room now…and no one else's. All ghosts were gone as surely as if they had been exorcised.
XXXXX
Deep in the woods a boy sat huddled inside his carriage. The winds had made it impossible to keep a fire kindled, and though he'd managed to get off of the road to a good hiding place, it hardly provided the wind shelter that one required to set up a proper camp. The horses were under the only protective branches of the lone pine that stood in the clump of trees. They came first, for without them he'd have little hope of taking his carriage anywhere once the storm passed.
He nibbled on a bit of the food stuffs that the innkeepers had packed for him. He wondered at why he felt no guilt, no remorse, eating a dead-man's food, but he did not. He felt hollow.
His entire life had been surrounded by blood, by vengeance. He'd not had the maniac glee that his brother described when he prevailed. His butchery was pointed, precise, and without passion. In that way, he'd been once removed from the generation previous…it was is if he had no soul. No soul that could be soiled by the workings of his hands, the rantings of his mind. Only an unsatisified appetite for retribution, and he'd no idea how many he'd have to take before that feeling would die within him, if it ever would. He shook his head. It was of no matter. He'd not have to ponder it. He knew what he needed to do, and he was after all the last one standing now…it was his duty.
XXXXX
Madame Giry had made her way down to her room. She went inside, turning up the lamp that Madeline had lit for her. She walked over to the fire, warming her hands. It felt like Christmas Eve to her, though it was nearly as far from it as one could be. Her daughter was happily in the other room, with a would-be suitor…a better one than Madame Giry could even have hoped for. She'd been lavished with gifts. They'd had a wonderful dinner, and the snow was falling outside. She was entirely sure that Christine was happy and safe, though so very far away. Nothing was settled, but there was a sense of happiness about the night. She wandered over to the window glancing around the split in the curtains. The snow was rapidly accumulating, which would make things difficult for those who needed to travel, but tonight, she decided, to marvel at its beauty, for truly happiness was all about the perspective of the mind…one could find happiness anywhere….in the simplest of pleasures if one looked for it…even the sheen of the moon as it danced across a delicate blanket of snow.
Her mind wandered to Nadir. She'd felt guilty for sending him away without so much as a proper greeting, but the situation had necessitated it. She would be happy to see him just once before she retired though she didn't know if she would. She wanted to ask about Christine, about Erik, the arrangements for Sara. Raoul had already come upstairs and Nadir had not, which likely meant DeChagny was in the library with him now, and that could be an all-night affair.
She sighed as she turned from the window. She'd make herself ready for bed, perhaps crawl in with the book Erik had bestowed upon her. That alternative seemed right to her. She'd give Meg and Raoul a bit more time. Surely they'd have much to talk about. Meg'd guilt had given her such fits. But Madame Giry knew, that in Raoul's presence, Meg was happier, calmer, and more at ease than she was with anyone, and that was just what she was needing now.
XXXX
The carriage house was anything but calm, an alternate universe to what was going on inside the house proper. The men were ranting at the carriage driver.
"BUT I HAD MY ORDERS good sirs, what was I to do, drop her along the wayside and retrieve her the next day?"
The men were mumbling. Though they realized he'd little choice or control in the matter, their bitter diatriabes were directed at him for lack of a more suitable object. "It shan't be good I say, it shan't be good…no good can come of it.." one man mumbled incessantly.
"Oh do bite your tongue old man!" The stable master said as he walked in the middle of the huddle. "Just what is going on here?" He went to stand next to the carriage driver who'd obviously been circled by the others.
"Monsieur, he's brought a us a fine present is all." One of the stable hands said sarcastically. "We've no room for it sir." Said yet another. The men began to grumble amongst themselves.
"Now see here," the stable master taking on an authoritative tone. "There's no need to get up in arms over this. We'd all expect the same show of respect if it were our family member now wouldn't we?" The group fell silent. "This man," he put his hand on the carriage driver's shoulder, "did his job. He'd not questioned his rider's intent, not insulted him with tales of curses and omens…" he was mocking their superstitions.
The stable master began walking among the men who all now stood silently. "He'd done what was bid him, there's no fault in that. He'd no sooner be able to control the situation than we can control the fact that this box will be with us, and I'd dare say for a day or two by the looks of things." He gave a nod toward the rapidly accelerating snow.
"We'll make the best of it, and any man who give this man so much as a hair of trouble for fulfilling the obligations of his duties, will have me to answer to." The stable master patted the carriage driver on the shoulder.
"Now off to your quarters, all of you, there's no more to see or do here. Get your rest, for on the morrow, we'll be needing to remove all this snow if were to make any sort of path for carriages."
The men scattered. Not so much as one little word was uttered, nor gesture was made. The stable master was a fair man, but a stern one. When he said that they would have him to deal with, they knew he meant it.
He watched as the stall cleared. He nodded toward the carriage driver. "Come, let's give this box a rest shall we?"
The two men unlashed the box from the underside of the carriage. The strain on the wheels and the axels from riding wet and heavy easing just slightly under the relief of its burden. They sat the box off to the side, covering it with several horse blankets.
"Sad thing really," he said to the carriage driver as they walked out of the stable turning down the lamp, "when your time comes and you've to travel so far before finding your final rest."
The room was dark, and Sara was alone. "Come, what say you we have a sherry before we retire." The carriage driver nodded. He was relieved to have been rescued, and pleased that at least someone acknowledged he'd had no other choice…he'd only done what had been bid him.
Author's Notes:
Captainoblivious: Yes, it would be decidedly better for Meg if everything were out in the open, but as with real life, nothing is quite that simple. It's rather handling a piece of broken glass…just when you think you've figured out how to handle it, it slips and slices you clean through!
Well, if "Chris" ever gets lonely, you can get him a couple of little neon fish at the pet store, they seem to do well with betas. Oh, one could be named Meg, and the other of course….Erik! You could be the first in your dorm to have a POTO aquarium!
PhantomsRogue: Thank you for the mini-update, and your suggestions to make sure that people are using reputable sources for their donations…there are so many unsavory people out there that would take advantage of this situation…truly sad.
I too work for the government and we've been doing what we can in our area to support those that have been misplaced by the hurricane. It is sad that they've had to leave behind the only life they've known and move to states far from where they grew up. We can only hope that one day they'll be able to return to a restored home, no matter what city they've traveled from.
I am looking forward to the relationship between Erik and Christine. So much has happened, and so much is in the wings for this young couple. Yes, in our little Phamily, we are a diverse group. Some are still in high school, some are in college, and yet others of us are out in the working world and beyond. One thing we all have in common is for good to triumph and for everyone to find happiness….that's why we're all here! Don't worry about babies and the like. Getting college out of the way, and working are very important. There is always time to have a family.
Phantomlover05: You are welcome for the explanation…that part did get a little confusing! Hope everything is going well for you!
Poetzproblem: Glad you let me off the hook on the long chapters, it seems I've done it yet again! I am excited to think of what Erik might have had to say to Meg that he didn't want anyone else to know. I guess time will tell. Now all she needs is a little alone time to get back to that book. With everyone milling about all the time, it might be a little difficult to do. But you know Meg, she'll find a way!
Tex110: Yes, good for both of them…and I dare say…good for this author's heart…sigh….