Slowly, Erik trudged up the next drift. It was demanding, the slope was slippery, followed by yet another precipitous plunging valley on the other side. He couldn't count, it had been far too many hills he had climbed. Looking down, he could feel something both warm and stiff on his clothing. He blinked his eyes blurry from the cold and the wind, was that blood? He looked, closer, it was indeed. Where or what it was from, he did not know, and at this juncture, its origin mattered little, he'd no choice but to continue.
The weight in his arms made navigating a bit more precarious. He'd mounted and descended drift after drift. His legs ached with increasing ferocity. They felt more like dead stumps of wood that his torso was dragging about. If it weren't for the pain in them, he'd have thought them to be useless flesh. As he came to the top of the next drift he could see the towering pines that he knew instinctively, he was but a hundred yards from the street that would lead to the tavern.
XXXXX
Out in the barn the man was covered in a coat of mucus and blood from wrist to arm pit. The maid had come from the house to provide what little help she could, for she knew nothing about delivering a foal. She'd been a midwife in her youth, but this was decidedly different. The only true help she could provide was to stroke the horse's mane and ears as the man tried to help her deliver.
At long last she felt the horse jerk and a singular snort from her nostrils as she raised her head high, snapping it down. The man let out a cry. There in his arms was the one he'd waited for. He'd had his hand in the horse's mouth, clearing the mucus, then setting the newborn on the ground and moving away so that the mother could turn around and tend to her baby.
The pair moved away, closing the gate. They stood on the other side of the fence watching as the mother did as nature had taught her. They smiled at one another.
"Monsieur Courtland will be pleased when he returns. He has special intentions for this little one." The man said to the maid. They walked outside, noticing that the wind had subsided greatly since they'd gone to the barn several hours before.
Looking up into the sky they could see that the clouds were beginning to clear. Off to the west, the clouds still seemed thick as ever, but where they stood, the stars were innumerable.
"A name sir, does the horse have a name?" The man turned smiling at the woman. "Why no, he'd intended to name her himself once he saw the horse. He didn't want a name to determine the animal. But between the two of us, I think the name Stormy would seem appropriate, do you not?" The maid chuckled a bit. "I should say so."
She looked at him. "Now what say you, I draw you a bath?" The man laughed looking down at his soiled clothing. "I'd be food for wolves if I stayed in this clothes Madame!" After peeking in the barn once more and finding the mother properly tending to her baby, they closed the door, latching it securely. They walked toward the house. "I should say we will be rather busy on the morrow, we've much to do to clear all this snow!" The woman laughed again. "I'll bake and make soup, you good sir, can tend to the snow!"
XXXX
Slowly he mounted the last drift, step by difficult step. As he reached the top, his cloak flew high into the air behind him. He felt like the great warrior Attila coming over the top of the last hill before returning home with his share of the spoils. Though in this case it was worth far more than the wealth of any nation to one family.
As he stood there, preparing for the descent down the next sheer surface, he saw something in the distance. It was two small figures huddled together, but moving, yes, moving toward him. He hesitated for a brief moment before he began moving toward them. Perhaps they could help him take her home. In all other cases, Erik had too much pride to allow for such a thing, but today was not normal, nor were the circumstances….today he'd accept the help, gratefully.
XXXX
"Mother! Mother!" Nicole had taken the lead, and had turned calling out to her. The woman had slowed down, her legs beginning to buckle underneath her, her face red, frozen tears trying desperately to force their way out, but they could not. All she could do was point. Was this her imagination? She'd become delirious. To her, the ominous figure that stood on the hill at a distance, black cloak flying triumphantly into the air, a tower of a man, with what looked like a sickle on his back…… he was the personification of the grim reaper, here to collect that which he'd come for. She gasped, was this true or did her yearning eyes deceive her once more.
XXXX
Christine wandered down to the kitchen. Everything was neatly back in its place, no evidence of the flurry of flour and apple peelings that had dominated the room just a few hours before, though a soft cinnamon aroma still lingered.
She felt the side of the tea kettle that was on the stove. It was still hot, and she could tell by the soft glow that shone around the small door of the oven that it had been recently tended to.
Christine moved over to the domed lid that she knew covered that which she sought. She lifted it, the sweet fragrance of the frosting and spice cake rising to her nose making her salivate. She padded about quietly in the room, collecting a china plate and utensil. Carefully she slid one of the last of three pieces of the cake onto the awaiting plate. She refitted the dome, turning to pour herself a cup of hot water. She'd no need for an entire pot of tea, a singular cup would do.
The lone lamp left just barely burning in the kitchen gave it a soft welcoming glow. Glancing out the window she could see the softly falling snow. When Spring finally returned, she would miss the snowfall. For the first time in many years it meant something entirely different to her. She'd made her choice in it, she'd fled in it, she'd married in it, and likely one of the nights where she and Erik had shared their passions, their children were conceived, had been a night graced by it. She smiled, yes, the snow would be special to her forever more.
She returned to her cup, sinking the small tea ball into it. She lifted the saucer and cake plate taking it back down to the library. As she left the kitchen she glanced to the left. Her mind would not leave it alone…she was drawn to it.
She looked down the hall, standing still listening. She heard no sounds. No doubt everyone was so exhausted from their labors that day, they'd either already fallen asleep or were well on their way to it. She breathed in…perhaps she could look for that book one more time…in the study.
She moved very quietly down the corridor to the left. Her hands were full, making it impossible to use them to open the door. She tried to balance everything in one hand and nearly dropped the lot of it on the ground. She stood silently, when no one appeared she tried to use her elbow to open the door. It wouldn't budge. She sighed. She returned to the kitchen, abandoning the teacup saucer in the sink. She slid her plate of cake over the top of her cup. Now with it firmly in hand, she could balance it.
She walked back to the door, using her hand she pushed the door to the side, sliding it closed. She went over to the desk, sitting the cup and plate down on the top. She looked around, there was just enough light from the moon flooding the room that she shan't need to light a lamp.
She felt about the drawer, making certain that it was truly locked and simply not stuck or jammed into the frame. Old wood desks had a tendency to do that, though she doubted Erik would have tolerated it. Tugging on it she could feel the lock fitted tightly, yes, it was indeed locked. She wondered if the ring of keys that Erik had shown her would contain the one for this desk. Though she didn't think so, she was certain he'd covered each one with her in detail, she didn't recall any superfluous keys on the ring that had gone unexplained. But she'd have to check.
She rose from the chair in front of the desk. She'd have to travel back to their bedroom, the keys were carefully stowed there inside one of the busts he had in a corner. Really he was clever, tucking them inside the bust made them nearly impossible to find unless you knew they were there. She slipped the door open and closed it quietly behind her.
She'd abandoned the cup and plate on the top of the desk. The tea was steeping nicely in the cup. The coolness of the room causing a smooth layer of condensation to form on the outer shell, slowly sliding down the side, a beaded layer of sweat coming to rest around the lower rim at the base that rested against the wood. It would sit until Christine returned, and by most…the evidence of it being there, would go undetected.
Christine easily made her way up to their room with nary a sound. She'd stopped to re-belt the robe that hung around her. Erik was so much taller than she, and had a much larger structure, she was certain it looked entirely ridiculous as it hung on her petite frame, but she shan't care. It was as close as she could get to actually having his arms around her.
Upon opening the door to their master chamber, a chill passed her in a sudden gush. The fire had died long hours before, and now only a fragmented smoldering ember lay at the bottom of the fireplace. She walked over to the corner to retrieve the keys, she paused, she could hear Erik's voice in her head. He'd admonished her to never retrieve the keys nor any of the other hidden items in the room with the doors open, for one never knows who might be watching. She smiled slightly. True obedience was something that was done even when no one was there to witness it. As she closed the door, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye, but she shook her head, it had been her imagination. She pulled the door closed, and then proceeded to retrieve the keys.
Just outside the room, next to the linen wardrobe stood a figure in the darkness. It was the elder maid, come to check on the fire in the master chamber. She'd been startled by Elizabeth's appearance and had hid in the shadows undetected. She wondered about this young bride of her employer's. She was so much younger than he, she simply did not know how they'd come to marry, or where she'd come from at all for that matter. Here she was, the lady of the house, lounging around in men's night garments, traipsing about at all hours. She shook her head. This household had gotten entirely too strange for her. Had he not been so generous, she'd have thought about leaving for another. She descended the stairs shaking her head. "Odd indeed," she muttered to herself.
Christine had stopped to rekindle the fire. After she'd returned to the library to collect the letter she'd written to Erik, she would retire to the bedroom. Last night had been entirely wonderful, and she'd not trade it for any comfort in the world. But tonight, she longed for the soft comforts of her own bed.
She padded quietly back down to the study. The rather large brass ring in the pocket of Erik's robe. She'd not sensed anyone stirred, much to her relief. She slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. She made her way over to the large, very masculine chair that sat in front of Erik's desk. She sat down with the ring of keys in hand. The first was far too large, the second though it entered the lock it would not turn. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth proved not to be matches. She'd worked her way all the way through the ring to no avail.
She sat back in the chair, a childish scowl on her face. What would he need to keep from her? Yes she wanted to respect him, yes she wanted to trust him. Perhaps she needed to rest her curiosity and simply ask when he returned. But no…how could she confess she'd gone through all of the keys…what if he'd actually meant to keep the drawer a secret. For all he'd given her couldn't she afford him this one little bit of privacy? Wouldn't he do the same for her if she'd but ask him?
She sat back, suddenly feeling as immature as a school girl whose friend withheld a secret from her. Perhaps it was for her own good. Oh that infernal curiosity! She sat up. NO. She'd told herself. It is Erik's business. Perhaps he'd just missed telling her about that drawer, and perhaps he never would speak of it. If she loved him…respected him…she had to let well enough be. She stood, deciding to take her cake and tea back to the library. She lifted the cake plate, and then the tea cup into her hands as she made her way to the door, closing it behind her, keys tucked neatly into the pocket of the robe. The small circle of beaded water sat on the edge of Erik's fine mahogany desk….
XXX
The carriage house and stable were buzzing. They'd found and uncorked a number of bottles of wine. The ham dinner had been consumed right down to the last scrap. Cards were strewn about on the table, and a small collection of woman huddled over by the fire exchanging stories of storms they'd been through, and of other households they'd worked for. Though they varied in age, the lot of them had one thing in common, they'd spent the lion's share of their life in service to others.
The men sat now down out in the stables. There was only one real place that was safe for partaking of the cigars that had been passed around, and that was the graveled floor of the stall reserved for the blacksmith. They'd all huddled in there, with the exception of a few men who preferred to hole up in their dormitories in the loft with a good book. They'd all be up throughout the night on their watches, though it seemed unnecessary in light of the storm. They'd also decided to take turns keeping several shovels moving snow and sand so that all the labors of the day weren't defeated in the morning. They needed to clear a larger path for the animals to use as well.
Raoul had made his way out to the stables just minutes before thanking the men for their work, and to bid the women to retire to the house for the evening. He knew that there was nothing like a heavy snow, women by a warm fire, and close proximity to put even the most reticent woman in a precarious situation. He'd trusted all of the men in his stable, though one never truly knew another man did they? He'd waited for them to collect their things and bid the gentlemen good evening. As he escorted them back to the house, he thanked them each by name. He also asked if they'd be so kind as to lend Madeline a hand before they retired. She'd been tending to their needs all the while, and preparing all of the meals. The least he could do is to shoo her off to bed a bit earlier than the rest.
"Good evening ladies," Raoul said as he closed the door to the kitchen, returning to his guests in the drawing room. His father was just commenting on the new additions of two framed watercolors he'd not seen before when Raoul walked into the room.
Meg's face was aflush, she looked desperately at Raoul. He smiled at her, he'd forgotten to mention it. "Why those?" Raoul said as he walked into the room.
"Yes, son, it seems you've been doing a lot of redecorating as of late!" Raoul did not miss the sarcasm in his father's words…he pouted still of Raoul's choice to remove his portrait.
"Those are of particular importance to me." Raoul moved toward them, not taking his eyes off of Meg, it was as if she was the only other person in the room. "They were painted by two young lovers, not long before the young man proposed to her."
Meg's heart nearly leaped from her chest. She was entirely certain he'd either misspoken, or she'd misheard.
"Really….!" Nadir said, making the easy transition between what Raoul was saying and what he was doing. Nadir looked back and forth between Raoul and Meg. There was a certain glow between them as their eyes were locked on one another.
"However did you get them?" Raoul looked at his father, sometimes, he thought, his father was entirely too obtuse. "Oh, I'd come by them naturally, and had them framed up just a day ago in the workshop." Raoul said, smiling politely at his father.
Madame Giry sat silently listening…hadn't Raoul and Meg been dabbling with watercolors not several days ago in the garden? She though to herself.
Raoul walked purposefully toward Meg, sitting next to her on the divan. The group, as if on cue, all turned their attentions back to the table that held the bowl of questions in the center. They'd gone through each and every one, no surprises remained in it.
Madame Giry's hand flew to her mouth, covering a deep yawn that she'd tried to stifle without success. "I hope you do not mind my suggesting it, but I think we could all benefit from a bit of sleep, though I've not done even enough to earn my salt these last few days…it is entirely exhausting!" The group laughed. Raoul's father was wide-eyed and bushy tailed. He'd plenty of sleep. With the snows as deep as a horse wagon outside, he knew Nadir would not be getting to Paris on the morrow. Perhaps he could coax him into staying awake with him for a nightcap.
Author's Notes:
Dear Faithfuls: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest. The ideas needed to stay together for the sake of continuity. I hope everyone is have a nice fall, wherever in the world this story finds you!
Captain Oblivious: I too was having a fit of nostalgia as I penned this chapter. There have been so many people in my life that fit all of those descriptions, and I love and appreciate them all. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could go back and thank all of those people? But alas we cannot. I guess all we can do now is to, from this point forward, appreciate all those whose paths we now cross.
No apology needed my dear…school work is very important, and no doubt work helps you afford school, so both are worthy commanders of your attention. Have a good night! And for goodness sakes, try to get in some sleep. I do not want for you and Susie to have an accident…after all who would look after Chris for you?
Phantomsrogue: I do appreciate your concern. My dear do not think that I would run off with your idea….unlike the Crawlings family in our little story…I shan't be making off with anything that does not belong to me! LOL! And yes, you are correct. It would be the most profound story of obsession…perhaps written nearly like a treatise….have you ever read any of John Locke's works? There were many theories out there about the human condition at the time. It would be very interesting to weave all of the things that were going on in Paris at the time….the revolution just over, the rise and fall of the Paris Commune, Marx theory on revolution, and writings of the 'Communist Manifesto', the death of prominent writers such as Dickens (my favorite), my goodness the possibilities are endless. I do think it would be good to start thinking about, although until this story is finished, this shall be my primary passion….you understand.
Yes, I'm certain Ann Rice would love this sort of thing…though how much creative license she would allow us, I do not know. You know the more I think of it I can just see the look on both the Phantom's and Lestat's faces when they see each other fully for the first time, in full recognition of what each other are….would Lestat try to overcome the Phantom, or respect him for his ability to be mortal but of immortal qualities…oh how he might envy the fact that Erik could actually die a mortals death…to enjoy a meal not of mere juices of the flesh, to actually feel the touch of skin, to go out into the light of day if he chooses to. Would Louis go to the Phantom for a touch of the humanness that he had with a mortal soul but the ramblings of a mind so battered by obsession and solitude that his suffering was not unlike that of his own…. Ahhh yes, the obsession of the mind…. O.K., now I have to stop, I'm getting goose bumps…
PhantomFan13: Yes, Madeline's English…I do like your twist on the fact that maybe she is something more than she appears, though that was not my intention I must admit in my haste, and my need for her to communicate that I let her character slip just a bit from the original. I shall have to go back and revise this…
Erik is not out of the woods just yet my dear, though I say things are getting a little further along!
Crayann: Good to hear from you my dear! Thank you for your kind words. I too have known friendships such as these. Some very brief but intense, some that have leaguered, and then renewed and the leaguered again, then those whose binds have been tightly fastened for many years. Each one is special in their own unique way, and yes, there are several in my life that I would indeed go to the point of death for….perhaps this chapter provided a bit more insight into my own soul than I'd first intended…after all, what is prose but an extension of the one who pens it?
ChristineluvsErik: You made me laugh for the first time today! I like your attitude, nothing will stand in your way? Awwwwhhh…I'm blushing in humility. Yes, each and every one of Erik's pains makes me worry too…he hasn't been out of bed all that long since he's been awake, and just like the doctor thought, Erik continues to push himself too hard. I think we can all think of people that we know that are like that! LOL Though that is not me….if I'm hurt, I'm rather like a whimpering puppy looking for its mommy.
Draegon-fire: My dear, my heart goes out to you…more than you might know. Raising children is by far the highest calling in life, and difficult enough to do within a committed marriage relationship. But when one is called upon to do this task alone….it takes a special type of fortitude to do it…an inner strength that I think most people do not recognize nor understand. Single moms especially, have to be both warrior and caregiver, provider and teacher, compassionate yet stern. It makes love stories such as this one even more intense, more poignant for those who have once loved and are now alone for whatever reason. We all want to be loved…deserved to be loved. Single parents must demonstrate love, and have the ability to teach their children that true committed love is possible, even if they aren't able to show them of it at the present time. I give you much credit for trying to hold all of this together, working, family…etc. I am glad you found our Phamily, and have stayed with us!
BatteredChild: First, welcome to the Phamily! We hope your stay with us will be a long and happy one. Thank you for the compliment, and for your willingness to read so very many chapters to get this far! I always feel like we should give badges of honor for those who make it passed Chapter 100! I am happy you liked Nadir's speech…I think it is particularly telling of how people interact with one another and how we have many types of relationships with people throughout our life time and that we should appreciate all of them for what they were designed to be.
Now, no doubt you've read some of the other reviews, so you know of our little tradition….guessing of tag names…but I must admit…I shuddered when I thought of it…perhaps we shall break with tradition just this once, and have you tell us yourself how you arrived at your tag name….though do not feel obligated to do so if you'd prefer not.