Chapter 125 Drifts, Tears, and Good Men

"Now, fold it just there, like this," Misty leaned over helping Christine weave the layers of dough on the apple strudel they'd been making. It was nearly the dinner hour now, and they'd made all things apple. A pie, apple and pear sauce, an apple bread, and lastly the apple strudel that would be the pastry for breakfast the next morning. The house smelled of glorious cinnamon and spices, and a warm aura had settled in just as much from the camaraderie as for the apples and spices that had been employed in making all of the delectable pastries. Christine tucked in the last layer of the strudel and was ready to place it in the oven.

"No mum, we'll bake that first thing in the morning for you. Your surprise for Stephan when he returns." Christine smiled at Misty, her face dotted here and there with flour. There was really not more than a few years difference in age between them, yet Christine felt decided older.

"Thank you." She reached out and touched her hand. "I think he shall be most pleased," Christine raised her eyebrows, chuckling under her breath, "and most surprised I should say." In all the time that they had been together she'd not made him a single thing…and she felt a bit guilty just now. He'd given her so much, surprised her at nearly every turn. The many things he'd done over the years to bring her happiness, to cheer her, to comfort her. Perhaps she'd spend the rest of the day thinking up little surprises for when he came home. She smiled. Several things came to mind, and if she had time she'd do them all.

"Thank you Misty, thank you for sharing the kitchen with me and instructing me on preparing this." She said pointing at the strudel. "I think I should like to retire to the library for a bit of tea perhaps. I'm not feeling all that hungry yet, but perhaps later I should like a bit of soup or whatever you are preparing for yourself."

Misty smiled at her nodding. "And might I say mum, it was a pleasure to share the afternoon with you." She blushed slightly, hoping what she'd say next was not too forward. "It's been a long while since I've had someone closer to my own age to visit with. It was most pleasant for me, if you don't mind my saying so."

Christine smiled, at her, reaching out to touch her hand. "I understand, I miss it sometimes too. When Meg was with us it was different, it seemed we'd spent hours just conversing about the trivial." Christine's eyes were lost in one of a dozen memories. "I do miss her company."

Misty's smile faded. She had the feeling a bit like she'd caused Christine suffering for mentioning it. "I'll see to your tea mum. Is there anything else that I might bring for you?"

Christine drawn back to the present, without hesitation said, yes, if you don't mind, could you bring me the shirt that Stephan was wearing this morning?" Misty's face took on an inquisitive scowl, "mum?"

Christine glanced at Misty, quickly realizing the request would seem strange. "You see, I miss him, it will bring me comfort in his absence." Christine was subconsciously rubbing her hand on her stomach.

Misty cocked her head to one side, "are you feeling alright mum?"

Christine looked at her inquisitively. "Yes, quite." Then she realized Misty was glancing at her mid-section. Christine thought quickly, "perchance I am a bit hungrier than I thought…perhaps a bit of bread with cheese with the tea?"

Misty nodded, turning around with a small smirk on her face. She had a hunch, though she would say nothing.

Christine brushed off the flour from her hands, and walked over to wash her hands. She would change the subject. "What is it that one does here when it snows?" Christine inquired looking over her shoulder at Misty who was busily cleaning up after their projects.

Misty replied, "this is only my second year with Stephan's household mum, but I can tell you this past winter, we'd been given a list of assignments in preparation for the master's arrival. We'd been polishing silver, dusting every nook and cranny, and we spent a considerable amount of time on the new piano in the library. It took much time to restore it to what you see now."

Christine turned, wiping her hands as she took off the apron. "It was damaged?"

Misty was sweeping up the flour from the floor, she glanced up, "it had been through something, a fire, a storm, or severe neglect, whatever it was, he was insistent that it could be saved. I did have my reservations when first I saw it, but in the end, he was right….it was a beauty, and most worthy of restoration."

Christine smiled, yet another finely woven piece to the obscurity of all that made Erik. He was constantly surprising her. She'd seen sides of him these last few months that she'd never known were there. She began to wonder if she'd ever really known the man Erik was. He was like a labyrinth. Complicated, yet beautiful. Perfectly designed, intricately detailed. Within him was a great mystery, so well hidden one might spend a lifetime trying to discover its many secrets. "I see," Christine said. "Had they not prepared for him this way in the winter's previous?"

Misty shook her head, "I shan't know mum, but I'd a sense that they'd spent a great deal more time than usual, as if he was planning to fully occupy the house, not just pass through as he'd done so many times before."

Christine sat down in one of the chairs at the table. Could it be possible? How could he have known….was he planning to leave…without her?. Christine's stare turned blank, her eyes moving rapidly.

Misty came to rest at the table across from Christine, "mum, you look dreadfully sad…I am sorry…I'd not meant to…."

"No, no…I am quite alright. Perhaps I should retrieve the shirt myself while you prepare the tea. I should like it in the library in ten minutes, if its not too much trouble." Christine stood, her hand quickly moving to her face to cover her mouth, she longed for the privacy of her own room, and only hoped she could make it there before she began to cry.

Misty wasn't sure what she might have done to end the conversation so abruptly, but it served as a reminder to her that no matter how close she felt to Elizabeth, she was still her master's wife, and though they were close in age, she was still her employer. Misty went to sink to draw the water for the tea.

Christine made it out into the hall, nearly stumbling on her dress as she mounted the stairs quickly. The other maid was just coming down the stairs. She'd tidied up the master chamber and was bringing down the items that needed to be washed.

Christine saw hanging out of the edge of the basket, the very shirt she'd been talking about. Reaching out she said, "may I?" She pulled the shirt from the basket, and continued on to her room. The maid looked after her inquisitively but Christine did not stop to offer an explanation.

Once the maid had carried the basket into the washroom, she came into the kitchen. "Misty, whatever is going on with Elizabeth? She's just snatched a soiled shirt from the basket!"

Misty smiled at the woman. "Whatever do you mean?" Misty hoped some day Christine would take her into her confidence. She wouldn't be caught gossiping about the house. That was one piece of sage advice she'd learned from Sara….dear Sara.

The elder maid shook her head. The household had grown so strange since the monsieur was awake…nothing was as a normal household any longer, she thought to herself.

Christine burst through the doors. Flinging them closed behind her. She found herself sobbing, prone in the center of on the bed, wrapping Erik's shirt around her, rubbing it gently on her cheek. She inhaled. His scent permeated her senses, and if she closed her eyes it was as if she could imagine she was lying safely in his arms, her cheek pressed against his chest, her favorite place in the world.

She was weeping, and she didn't understand why. Yes, he was gone, with good reason. Yes, he'd promised her he would return, and she knew he would. Yes, she carried their happiness with her wherever she went. Yes, she'd made him a treat for his return. Yes, there was much to be happy about, so why then did she find herself whaling as an discontent infant? She was angry at herself. She was being entirely irrational.

Of course, she wondered why the winter house had been prepared to such great extent for his arrival, but Misty herself had confessed that she'd not been there but one winter, perhaps that was normal, per usual even. In all that he'd done for her, did she really think he would have abandoned her? That thought made her cry all the more profusely.

She beat her fists on the bed. "STOP, stop this!" she repeated over and over under her breath. She used Erik's shirt to dry her tears, and each time she'd thought she'd finished, a fresh wave of tears came yet again furthering the gut wrenching feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. Her mind wandered to every irrational thought she could have. Maybe he'd been preparing to leave the Opera House for good, not being able to take the pain of thinking he would never have her. Maybe he'd lost patience waiting for her. Maybe he'd just needed time away, to clear his head. Maybe he'd wanted to start a new life without her. She began to sob ever harder. She quit trying to fight the tears; she'd cry herself dry. Each effort had proved futile, now there was nothing to be done but let it run its course.

Time was a curious beast. What seemed like hours, could just as well be minutes only. In one's agony and torment, a few minutes could seem to be an eternity. Christine was laying in a pool of tears, Erik's shirt entirely soaked. Her breaths came in fitful stuttered gasps, and long exhalations. Her eyes now puffy and rimmed in red. Her lips soaked and swollen. She reached out for the pillow that Erik slept on, pulling it to her. She rested her head on it, pulling the fullest part between her arms, and nestling her cheek onto the center.

She missed him, missed him terribly. She'd not been separated from him for this long since they'd been married. Yes, he'd slept those two months, but even then, she could reach out and touch his hand, his flesh, any time that she wanted, day or night, and she must confess she had. The nights he'd slept she'd wandered into his room, just to touch his face, to kiss his lips, to trace hearts in the palm of his hand. She'd been able to love him though he couldn't return the affection. Now his physical absence was an excruciating chasm for her tender heart.

She clung to the pillow, rubbing her hand along it. She closed her eyes. Exhaling slowly. She needed to calm herself…her rantings could be of no good use for the children. She'd someone other than herself to focus on now. She exhaled slowly. Trying to revisit the dreams that gave her comfort when he slept. Concentrating, she was leading her thoughts as if a child by the hand, orchestrating the very next thought.

Ah yes, the dream….the details becoming more firm, the gray areas filling in now with backgrounds and sounds, she could almost smell the sea. She was walking along the beach, Courtland Manor in the background, Erik with a girl in one hand, a boy on his shoulder…it was a lovely dream….she drifted off to sleep. She'd exhausted herself…and the sleep would make time pass more quickly.

XXXX

"I'm quite afraid they've been gone for some time sir, I'd heard them make mention of venturing to the church….the woman frequented the church.." The innkeeper was looking at Erik. He'd provided him with a steaming cup of hot milk infused with espresso and a bit of cocoa. Erik sipped from it heavily, trying to calm his shuddering from the change in temperature. "I know they've been down to the mercantile, the library, and the gardens in the park she so often visited, there is a cove in the amphitheater that remains exposed in the snow. I'm certain they'd stopped at all the places in between to inquire. I would suppose they'll head to all of the inns next, just to be certain that someone hadn't taken her in."

Erik was nodding in agreement, "that would seem reasonable. It is also entirely possible that the woman may have found her way home, if not under her own power, then perhaps by another kindly soul. Perhaps I'll check there first." This was Erik's chance to find out where she lived, and he knew it. "Sir, where did you say that they lived?"

The innkeeper hesitated, he hadn't said, and he certainly was not in the habit of giving out such information…under normal circumstances…but then again…these were anything but normal. "Sir, they live just two doors down, the upper level of the house, their flat is in the back half."

Erik tried not to smile or indicate any pleasure in having received this information. "Very well," He sipped the remainder of the cup and handed it to the man thanking him. "I'll be on my way then." Erik started to re-bundle himself. "If the women return, do make them stay, it is far too dangerous for them to be out in this weather. Do tell them that I shall come back here to report what I've found if anything. I shall start at their house, and work methodically to the north, house by house, and then at the edge of the city, I'll turn round, starting back down the opposite side until I return here. Please convey that to them won't you?"

The innkeeper nodded. Erik extended his hand, thanking the man again. The innkeeper shook his hand, looking at Erik, he paused, he felt compelled to ask.

"Sir, I know it is not my business, nor place to inquire, but of what interest is this woman to you that you would leave the comfort of your own home and travel into the city to search for her? It is at great cost to yourself and your young wife that you'd venture to do this."

Erik looked around the room, it had fallen silent. He knew at once he'd an audience of much greater size than just this one man. For not even one other man that now sat in the inn had offered to search. They were already in Chauesser with decidedly little else to do but wait out the storm.

Erik inhaled, looking with great intensity at the man, his jaw squared, his shoulders tall and set. His response would resonate in their minds for a long while after he departed. "My good sir, every life is worth something to someone, you've but to look into Nicole's eyes and you will see it. All that the evils of this world require to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." With that Erik wrapped the last of the scarf around his face. He opened the door, a bitterly cold wind swirling in behind him as he pulled it firmly shut.

The innkeeper watched as Erik climbed the frozen stairs carved into the snow making his way out onto the top of the drift. He turned around, no one had made so much as a sound, all eyes were upon him. "We need more men like this in Chauesser my friends, more men of courage such as this." The men sitting around the tables began to nod, offering gestures and words of agreement. More like him indeed. But they knew in their hearts, there were few men like him.

XXX

DeChagny had dressed and now descended the staircase to the parlor. There was no one there. He walked down the hall, there the four of them sat in the library, casually sitting around the fire. Nadir was reading to them from an old book. He'd been recreating his own rendition of the story, voices, facial expressions and all. As he entered the room he could tell they'd been there for some time, a pot of tea, a nearly empty plate of cookies on the table, and napkins daintily draped across their laps. They were captivated by Nadir's reading. They all paused, turning to look as he walked into the room.

"My, someone is a late riser!" Nadir said. Decidedly the only one in the room who would have had the moxie to make such a statement without fear of a bristling rebuff.

Madame Giry quickly rising and sliding down on the divan to make room for DeChagny to join them. He smiled at her politely accepting the invitation.

Ever dutiful, Madeline appeared from around the corner. A fresh pot of tea, an additional cup, and a plate with bits of meats, cheese and a crackers. He smiled at her. "Thank you Madeline."

She flinched, "you welcome, Monsieur." She smiled as she turned around, it had been a long while since he'd addressed her by name. Perhaps the snow and the sleep had altered his personality temporarily she thought.

DeChagny lifted the tea to his lips, blowing to cool it slightly. He nodded at Nadir, "do not let me interrupt, it's obvious you've an enamored audience sir, do go on."

The group glanced at Nadir who smiled, "very well sir, if you insist." He opened the book, repositioning his spectacles, "now where were we, ahhh, yes…."

XXXX

Erik finally pulled himself over the banked snow into the gully that the pine tree provided. He'd had to push aside a mound of snow to open the door but it had yielded easily for which he was grateful. Once inside, he brushed the snow from his cloak, stomping his boots. The woman in the flat on the main floor opened the door just slightly peeking out of her door. She quickly pushed the door shut, she'd entertain no visitors. Erik paid her no mind. He slowly climbed the flight of stairs to the door at the top. He paused, out of breath, knocking first. When no response came he pushed on the door, it was unlatched.

He felt a bit like he was back in Persia, slipping into houses without their masters present, though today his purpose was decidedly different…he was there to help. He walked in closing the door behind him. "Is anyone here?" Erik called out.

He walked over to the stove; it was cold. The fire in the hearth was nearly gone, the room was beginning to chill. Leaning down he put another log in, pressing it to the back of the fireplace. He walked from room to room looking in closets. He found no one.

He was struck by the simplicity with which they lived. No comfortable cushioned divans, nor much in the way of finery. Not at all what he'd imagined…but then imagined things are always flawed. He looked at the clothing drying by the fireplace, they too were simple, functional but nothing more. When all of this was over, perhaps he could see to improving their situation slightly, though he was sure they'd be proud, he'd find a suitable way. He paused looking out the window. In but little more than an hour the sun would set, thus turning this churning tangle of snow and wind into an impassable wall. He had to move on.

He found himself once again climbing through snow drifts, passing from one house to the next, to the next. No one had seen her, no one could offer any assistance, they really didn't know the woman, save the few strange encounters that they might have had with her over the years.

It was just after he'd left the last house, having taken yet another cup of hot coffee, that he saw something that intrigued him. Across the street, on the upper floor, he could see something fluttering out of the window at the rear of the house. If nothing else he could alert the man of the house that he'd a broken window to tend to lest snow drift in and cause damage. Yes, this would be a deviation from his original plan, but it wasn't far, and if he continued on the street, he'd not reach that house until well after dark, and he'd no desire to wait that long to tell the owner.

Erik's legs were tired. He'd put on and removed his snow shoes so many times he'd lost count. Now his inner thighs ached from the strange pull of the muscles as he worked his way across the street to the house. He made his way to the front door, buried nearly half-way up. He knocked several times. He'd observed no movement nor sign that anyone was at home. Perhaps they'd been stranded somewhere else.

Erik sighed, he had half a mind to continue down the street, return to his original path. But something tugged at him. If he could do no more than pull something across the window for the man, he'd feel a bit better. He'd hope someone would extend him the same courtesy if the situations were reversed.

It was a difficult journey, moving up the hill, side step by side step until he found himself at the window. He could tell that someone had attempted to cover the window, though not very well. Erik easily pushed the small mirror out of the way, the snow caked blanket that had been hung there falling stiffly to the floor. He heard a moan. Erik moved in quickly leaning the mirror back up against the window temporarily. He looked around, he couldn't tell where it had come from . He waited, listening, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the attic. Someone was in there, he was sure of it, for an animal didn't make sounds such as this.

XXXXX

Nicole and her mother were bundled once again. A map in their hand, the plan emblazoned in their minds, lest the map be lost in the storm. They'd head to the tavern first, and then to their flat, and then on up to the North. It had been the one part of the city that they'd not been in, truly, the old woman had avoided it.

XXXXX

Courtland Manor sat quietly under a blanket of snow. They'd not seen such gales from the water in a very long time. The snow was deep yes, and though the drifts were high, and the winds howled, there was evidence of the storm slowing slightly. They knew all too well that if they'd received this much snow, that if the storm had made it that far, that the winter house would certainly be under feet of it.

They'd thought themselves to be the less fortunate of Courtland's staff, having to stay behind in such a quiet state, but now they were thinking themselves to be the fortunate ones. There was really no way of knowing how long it would be before everyone would return to Courtland Manor, but they did hope it would not be that long. The house was far too quiet for their liking.

The lone stableman had made his way out to the barn for the second time that day. There was a mare in labor, and no doubt there would be a foal by morning. He'd watered and fed all of the animals. They'd become rather restless in the stable, not being accustomed to being restrained in the building for the entire day. He'd taken them out two at a time for a bit of exercise, but it was difficult as the area he'd been able to clear was fairly small. He'd check once more on the mare, and then make his way back to the house for a good supper. He'd no doubt that he'd be spending the night in the barn, for he'd been anxiously awaiting this particular foal. It was sired by Stephan's horse, and his mother was of a royal bloodline. This horse would be most prized in the stable, and he didn't want to miss its arrival.

Author's Notes:

Captain Oblivious: Nice to hear from you. Yes, busy as a bee I'm certain. And do take care of yourself, sore muscles can turn into injured muscles….do be careful. Christine's visions…this one in particular, it's hard to explain except to say it demonstrates how connected she feels to Erik…hmmm…that's really what I was going for. I can only imagine being that intensely in love with someone…sighs in resignation The old lady…I cannot tell you anything about her yet…I'd spoil the coming chapters! LOL!

Tex110: By the middle of October I hope to be able to return your words in French. I think I've mentioned that I'm taking a French class with a friend…part of my preparations for going to Europe! I am so intrigued by the language, as it is part of my heritage! In the meanwhile, I'll use English…thank you for the compliment! I am glad that you are able to fit in a bit of reading with your heavy work/school load. I remember those days well…little sleep…mounds of homework…who had time for anything else!

PhantomsRogue: Darned…I'll be up until the birds chirp on Saturday morning…I might just skip sleeping altogether on Friday night I'd forgotten about 'Le Chocolat', I'll have to rent that one too. O.K., I'll try making it through the scene in 'Moulin Rouge', though I will have my trusty pillow handy in case I'm overwhelmed! I forgot to mention I was quite impressed you'd had the quote from the movie 'Interview' memorized. It was a disturbing comment that Antonio's character made…I am a Christian myself so it was hard to hear someone say, though you could see why they would wonder, that they knew nothing of God. Pairing that comment with the twist of Dracula's origin in 'Dracula 2000' you can see why they felt so tormented by the subject. If one became an immortal being, incapable of redemption, you would wonder why you'd been cursed so if there was indeed a merciful God….it is such a dark part of that story. It was interesting that Louis, having heard that statement, walked away from him, seeking his vengeance on the lot of them…still enough of his human nature in him to transcend the darkness that had befallen the rest of them. O.K., now I've ranted on that long enough! I just think there are similarities to the characters written about during that period…truly the beginning of a genre that has endured and evolved into some of the movies we see today. Though I must say the originals are by far much more intense and intriguing than anything that is written in the modern day. O.K. Done. Promise.

A note about Madeline's language…yes, I see what you mean. Some little tid-bit will be tucked into the story about that…glad you picked up on it!

Diveprincess: Hello….I'd thought maybe you'd returned to the Bahamas to live with the dolphins! Nice to hear from you. We miss all of our Phamily that have gone off to school again. No doubt studies and whatnot are keeping everyone busy. Ahh yes, Erik has left…he needed to…but return he shall, though to his Christine I'm quite afraid! LOL. Take care of yourself, and I do hope all is going well for you.

PhantomFan13: Yes, I am one for dropping fragments in story lines…a bit like Hansel and Gretel…leaving a trail of bread crumbs behind! I like to return to them from time to time to pull the strings up on the story if you will…sort of like fastening a corset! The drawer…ahh yes…the drawer…I do know what's in it, though I've been sworn to secrecy by Erik! LOL.

You've got quite a reading list going there…I too like to re-read things that I fancy. I am always picking up on something I missed…I do enjoy it so.

Crayann: Hello again to you! I understand what you mean about anticipating the next chapters. I think I shared with you a series of books that I'd begun reading when the author was on the eighth installment. It took me a part of a summer to read all that led up to it, and I was ravenous whenever I had the time to read. Then…alas…when I'd finally caught up to the current volume, I was at a fevered pace and it was simply excruciating waiting for the next book to be published!

Thank you for your encouraging words. I love to hear from readers who are enjoying the story thus far. It has become quite a journey for us hasn't it?

Now, I was intrigued…you'd mentioned my other stories….hmmm…I've only this one…perhaps you've confused me with another author?