Chapter 133 Wishes

The day had been dreadfully long, followed by what seemed an eternal night. The doctor had kept watch over his keeps with a scrupulous eye. Pulses, respiration, abrasions, all tended to. There was nothing to be done now but wait. He'd finally joined the inn-keeper for that much needed brandy.

He'd a good deal to discuss with the innkeeper as he'd not been back to Chauesser since his grandfather's passing. Truly, the hamlet was far too small for him to exercise his newly learned knowledge. He longed for a more progressive, larger city, one where he could make his mark. But a promise he'd made, and a promise he'd keep. Though he loathed the idea of spending his first years in such a small village so far away from what he called civilized society, he lived in a day and time when a man was only as good as his word, and he'd worked far too hard to sully his reputation…or that of his grandfather's.

XXXXX

Nicole had taken the bath that had been drawn for her, soaking up to her neck in bubbles and lavender. It had taken a long while before she felt warmed through to the bone. Her mother had tried to fight sleep, but she'd given in sitting by the warmth of the fire. She'd not wanted to stray far, letting her mother out of her sight again, though deep in her heart she knew none would let her out of the tavern.

The night hours were waning. It had been a difficult for all…for those that waited, for those that worried, for those that lay somewhere in between. Those few precious hours, just before morning broke were the quietest of all.

Nicole pushed her feet through the last of the water as she stood, wrapping the warm robe around her damp flesh. Her friend had fallen asleep on the divan in front of the fireplace in her employer's quarters. All of the other rooms had been occupied, leaving little for him to offer her, but his own. She'd no clothing there, and had decided that the robe would suffice. She'd want now to check on her mother and grandmother.

Wrapping herself as best she could, Nicole made her way down the long hall that led to the main set of stairs that connected to the floors below. The tavern was nearly silent as she made her way down. The singular sound she could hear, came from the back of the kitchen; the soft hum of the head cook, she was peeling potatoes for breakfast. Most wouldn't have known the sound at all, but Nicole had become keenly familiar with it. A mixture of Russian and old Hebrew music she'd told her upon inquiry some months ago.

Nicole turned the corner, walking out into the room where she'd been taken from hours before. Her mother was asleep on her appointed cot. No doubt some kind soul had come along and tucked the blankets in perfectly around her. She looked like a sleeping doll. Nicole smiled, at least she was resting peacefully.

She glanced over at where she'd last seen her grandmother. There, sat the man, holding her hand. He'd fallen fast asleep, his head laid on the bed next to her, her hand laying protectively over it. It looked so oddly natural.

Nicole walked towards them, confusion coursing through her mind. She'd no understanding of what it was that made this man so different from the rest. He was extraordinary. There was little doubt his wife loved him dearly, she'd seen it in her eyes when last they'd dined there. Nicole had never met one like him before, and doubted greatly that she ever would. He'd left his wife to come out in this terrible storm to save a woman that had done little else but provide a constant source of irritation whenever he'd encountered her.

Suddenly Nicole felt guilty for his having left his wife's side when he barely knew her grandmother. She hoped one day she'd have opportunity to thank him properly for all he'd risked to save her grandmother. For now she was content to see that he was up and around. She'd heard mumblings from the doctor about frost-bite, exposure to the cold, it's ill effects on his lungs. Surely those concerns could be allayed now that he was mobile.

She came to rest above them. Looking down she noticed that he sat in a crumpled heap next to the bed, and she knew it shan't be good for him. She gazed upon his face pitifully. It was red and chapped, no doubt a temporal suffering for the exposure he'd endured. Nicole reached down gently rubbing his shoulder. She'd nudged him several times before he stirred.

Instinctively Erik seized her by the wrists with a powerful grip before he'd even opened his eyes. He blinked them fiercely trying to focus. They stung as though they'd been seared by fire and then doused with vinegar.

He looked up at Nicole through bleary eyes, seeing the terror on her face he quickly released her arms.

She stepped back warily, her hands trembling, rubbing at each wrist. "I'm..I'm…so sorry…you looked uncomfortable, and I…." She stopped, his gaze had not altered, perhaps he was as angry as she thought.

Erik looked down at the old woman, then back up at Nicole. He sat up slightly arching his back. He'd not slept in such an awkward position for a very long time, and it only furthered his discomforts . He glanced back at Nicole, releasing her grandmother's hand.

"The first thing she asked about was you." Erik said as he looked down at the old woman. His voice was hoarse, he could feel the affects of the cold wind had settled upon his lungs. He reached out pushing the strands of gray from her forehead. "She's so cold," Erik said a genuine look of concern on his face. He began tucking the blankets tightly around her…betraying who had done so to he mother…his methods were exacting.

Nicole smiled. "We love her very much sir, my mother and I. I shan't even begin to think of what life would have been for us if you'd not found her."

Erik looked down again, a serious expression on his face. "It was meant to be," was all he could say. Erik had resigned himself to the fact that whilst what he had done may have seemed heroic to some, it had ultimately been an act of selfishness. It was his own self-interest in the woman that had driven him to find her…not an act of altruism as some may have erroneously believed. He'd not be held to account for it, it would be a ruse and he knew it.

He shook his head, yet again another feeling of wishing he was once more in the solitude of his lair…where everything was predictable, constant, and in his control. Solitude…it was something he longed for now…an elusive dream. How odd, that which had tormented him so…now he sought, but it would not be so again….he knew it. He was both thankful for the redemption from it, and plagued by his want of it…as if it were a long lost friend. Perhaps one always misses what one has become accustomed to…no matter how bitter or harsh.

"Where did you find her? In what state of affairs was she? Was she afraid?" Nicole interrupted his self-imposed fog of isolation.

Erik sighed. He'd answer whatever questions she wished….in time, but first, he'd a few of his own he'd wanted answers to.

XXXXXXXX

Christine woke, she'd heard the clock downstairs chime, was it four in the morning? Or was it five? The sky looked a bit light, but not fully light… The clock had become a sound that she'd become attuned to…much like a mother to a new-born infant…she'd wake if she thought it was beckoning her.

She reached over turning down the hurricane lamp that sat next to the bed. She'd fallen asleep attempting to read the book which he'd left for her, though alas it was under the guise of needing the light for reading, she'd been thankful for the extra light in the room. It simply was not the same without him there. Since her first dream or vision or whatever one would call it the darkness had become like a ghost that haunted her. It reminded her of how truly grateful she was for his presence. With him in it she feared not the darkness…without him it was a hollow place, full of all sorts of things and thoughts one avoids scrupulously in the light of day for fear of it consuming you. Without him there, she was diminished…..only half, it required his physical presence for her to feel whole.

She rose and walked to the window that lay on the other side of the room. As she sat down, she pulled the blanket she'd brought with her up around her shoulders. The chill she'd felt from the night before had not ever left her though she knew it was more in her mind than in her body. She gazed out the window, marveling at the splendor. The snow had stopped, the wind had subsided. The out of doors was full of nothing but utter silence. It was as if every little creature had scampered far from the surface, as not so much as one set of prints dotted the pristine surface of the drifts that she could tell.

The snow was glowing that odd sort of surreal blue that it does when the light of the moon still shines, but it is beginning to surrender its grasp to the pink hues of the coming morning. It was beautiful….absolutely beautiful, but it was without peace for Christine. Her heart was low as she thought of her Erik out in the worst of it.

She prayed he was safe and warm. Her hand floated down to her stomach. She'd not rested fully, and even now the warmth of the bed called to her. She'd want to be ready to receive him when he came home.

As she padded quietly back to the comfort of her bed, the words of the doctor and those of Erik's came to her mind…be careful, rest, take good care…. She smiled as she nestled back beneath the covers. Her eyes fluttering as she lay looking up the ceiling….the ballerinas, the angels….Erik's words. Though he was not there to comfort her in a physical sense, he was there in spirit, watching over…as he always had. She wished for nothing more than the hours to pass….so he would return to her.

XXXXX

Nadir and DeChagny sat in the two leather chairs in front of the fire in the drawing room. They'd talked for hours of Parisian politics, the unrest that even now seized Paris herself; the most interesting productions of Brahms, Mozart, Chopin; their favorite authors Tolstoy, Stowe, Locke, Bacon; history; and women.

It was in fact the last discussion of a quote from Sir Francis Bacon's writing, 'Of Great Place', that they'd come upon common ground, for both agreed with his musings, reciting together in unison:

"It is a strange desire, to seek power and lose liberty, or to seek power over others and to lose power over a man's self The rising unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to greater pains, and it is sometimes base; and by indignities men come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing".

They'd sized one another up a bit, where Madame Giry was concerned. Nadir hoped she'd read the note by now, and DeChagny was assured that his actions had not been misunderstood.

Both men felt sufficiently pleased with themselves thinking to have taken the upper hand in the conversations. In truth it was the 12 year-old sherry cask brandy that had been the victor. With the bottle nearly half empty on the table between them, and a crystal ashtray full of fine cigars partly consumed, they'd lost track of time, and perhaps taken a wee bit of leave of their senses. It wasn't until Madeline had peeked her head in adorned in her night garb asking if they wanted a pot of coffee or tea, that they'd even thought to glance at the clock.

Nadir was tired, and entirely ready to retire for whatever hours remained of the night. DeChagny felt rested, though he'd retire himself lest he repeat the events of the previous day and sleep through it.

The men rose and walked from the room. A chill greeting them as they passed into the vacant hallway. The snow may have stopped, and the winds eased, but that didn't prevent the cold from permeating the house.

The fullness of morning would be telling. If the weather held as it was now, the sleigh in Raoul's stables might very well be employed to carry them off to Paris. Both had much to do.

As each day passed the greater Nadir's guilt became for Sara not finding her final rest. Another day's time and the disrespect would have grown sufficiently, that he'd nearly thought of having her simply buried quietly in an unassuming plot, and exhuming her at a later date once her proper gravesite and children were found. He hoped it would not come to that, but if it should, he'd at least thought it through. He knew of one plot that was as of yet unoccupied. It belonged to his closest friend. He'd no doubt now that Erik had no use for it…there would be need for a family plot now. Though he'd have to seek permission beforehand.

As the men mounted the stairs, DeChagny looked at Nadir, "I think sir, had you and I met as much younger men, we could have done a great many things together." He reached out patting Nadir on the shoulder.

Nadir smiled to himself…perhaps he'd bring up his talent of doing family geneaologies soon. It would give them so much more to talk about….and he'd have time to check on Erik's relations…..if he could do so unnoticed. "I think sir, you are correct in your assumptions, it would have indeed been a fine thing had we met years ago." He returned DeChagny's sentiment.

They parted ways in the hallway that ran along to the upper chambers. "Until the morrow then sir!" DeChagny said with a chortle. "Indeed." Nadir said with a nod and then disappeared into his room.

DeChagny made his way down to his own room, stopping to peek into Raoul's to see if his son had already risen for the day, though he'd doubted as much. He pushed on the door just slightly, the bed was vacant. DeChagny scowled. Surely the boy was not up already, his bed made. The house was silent, he'd not been down stairs….then it struck him.

He retraced his path down the corridor to Meg's room. He tried the door handle, but it would not give way. It was locked. His scowl deepened and his brow furrowed. If his son had seen fit to stay in a lady's chambers, he'd need to have a serious discussion with him…and he thought, with her as well. There were consequences for every action, and he needed to be cognizant of the fact that this sort of behavior would raise the ire of society should any of his staff be so inclined to share knowledge of it.

XXXX

Madame Giry had been awake for an hour or more now. She'd listened as Nadir had entered his room, and DeChagny's return, departure, and subsequent movement passed her door down along the corridor to his own room. She stood by the door that separated her room from Nadir's, listening as he'd removed his shoes and put them beside his bed, clearing his throat, and then all was quiet.

He'd stood by the door leading to their private hallway for a long while before he'd retired. He hoped she'd understood his note. That she didn't feel rejection. That she knew he was sincere, that he'd no want to hurt her or anyone. They were both people filled with obligation, depended on with the highest honor by those that they cared for. Denying oneself had become a way of life for both of them, and to take a path that deviated from that predictability, would give everyone pause. For in a world with such unrest there needed to be constants, rocks, pillars, that one could turn to, lay hands on when all else felt lost.

He'd retreated to his bed, as tired as he'd felt in a long while. When he was a bit younger man, his body had been most tolerant of his comings and goings at all hours of the day and night. Now, being a bit more distinguished, he had need to acknowledge the shortcomings of his flesh. He was tired, and sleep was the only remedy. He'd find a private moment to talk to her…to talk to Meg. They both needed him….and he'd be the first to admit, that it felt pleasant. To be needed was akin to being loved…and one could wish for little more in this life.

Madame Giry slid her hand down the smooth panel of the door. She'd been foolish, rash, to believe that love would be possible in these circumstances. She knew Nadir spoke the strictest of truth, though that knowledge did not make the news any less painful to her heart. She'd no hope of returning to her slumber. She'd tried in vain to do so, but to no avail. She wandered over to the window seat. Reclining in its comforts she looked out at the abundant hills of snow. She sighed. The storm had not improved their situation.

This had been a most difficult season, perhaps the most difficult she'd been through since her husband passed. So very much had happened since last Spring that she could hardly wrap the far reaches of her mind around the lot of it. How could one life contain so much? She closed her eyes. Though she tried to think of something, anything else, she could not. She rose, going to the only thing she knew would provide her the relief she sought. She sat down at her desk, withdrew a sheet of parchment, and began.

My Dearest Nadir:

It is with a heavy heart that I write this response. I know that present circumstances prevent us from seeking refugee of any kind in one another's company. As you so adroitly put it, we've so many others to consider aside from ourselves. One day we may find ourselves in much more favorable arrangements, but until then, I concur. Fond friends we've been, and the fondest of friends we shall always be.

I think it best you know, if you do not already, that Raoul has stated his intentions to me for Meg's future welfare. Though this no doubt is rather inconvenient, and most unusual, it seems to suit the two of them just now. This of course, presents a new set of circumstances, as far as Meg is concerned with her other family members, but as you and I both know, love does not often follow the most prudent course. A great many sacrifices will have to be made in this account. I do fear though, the knowledge with which Meg must come to terms, for this is a great thing to keep to oneself for a lifetime. Should it ever be discovered, a great many would come to suffer for it.

In my heart there is so much that I wish had been different, but alas it shan't be so. We cannot, nor should we hope to, orchestrate all things in our life. But that does not make us wish for it to be so very much less complicated.

I've spoken, at length to Meg of this very thing. She's to decide soon what she will do. Time will heal her external wounds, and soon the Opera House will be ready. By then, all will have to be resolved in her mind and heart, if there is to be a future for either of us. I do so pray that whatever course is chosen that we can remain in contact, if however infrequently.

This letter shall end a rather sad discourse, though I look forward with some optimism to the future. There is always happiness to be found, though sometimes we must search hard to find it. I've no doubt in my heart that should we but remain as we now are, there will always be a special memory that the two of share, and that will warm me each time I think of it.

With fondest regards, M

Madame Giry blew on the ink fanning it so that it would dry. She'd slip it inside an envelope and tuck it under Nadir's pillow later in the day when she could. For now she would turn her attentions back to the window seat and the book Erik had given her. In those hours of solitude she found some comfort. All would be well…she knew, nay, believed in her heart that it simply had to be. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could make everything straight, set it right, though she knew all the wishing in the world would not make the future what it would not be.

Author's Notes:

Captainoblivious: Glad to hear that your field trip did not turn out to be the disappointment that you thought it might, and that your prof was a bit more pleasant than you'd expected. Perhaps she sees in you a bit of herself as a younger woman? Often that accounts for a turn in one's mood. If she'd been "crabby" or rash with the others and pleasant with you, there is something that she admires in you!

Oh, I am to convey to you that Erik will not have any of your sneaking up on him…he has plans for those that disturb him in the middle of his recovery….DUN, Dun, DUN indeed! LOL Yes the plot is thickening much like a good winter stew…but the end, though perhaps some would prefer to be put out of their misery, is not yet at hand….we've babies to deliver, and a few more unexpected turns before the end could come. I'd made a promise to myself, and to our Phamily that it would be a satisfying end, though perhaps at this point a bit unpredictable. Things can go either way at this point…one simply cannot know! Oh yes, I do love a good bit of mystery and intrigue!

Phantomsrogue: My apologies, I am a bit remiss on checking my e-mail, but by Friday I will have done so, it is my solemn vow to you! Oh how nice it is to be missed! It warms the cockles of my chilly heart! Yes, now on to your point about Erik not "getting it". It would seem someone with such intelligence would be able to put two and two together, but he does not know what we know. Its sort of like when you watch a game show and you know the answer to the question that has just been asked and you stand in front of your TV screaming, and the contestant just doesn't get it! Poor dear Erik, he's no idea what the connection could possibly be. He doesn't even know where he was born or raised his first years. For all he knows it could have been in another country. It seems far too implausible for him to ever make the connection, though he does maintain a healthy curiosity about it. Time will tell what shall be revealed…..

R & M …. 'The Darker Side of Paris'….hmmmm, yes, there are possibilities there. The relationships could develop…and if properly aged, it might make sense that Raoul is coming into some sort of "power" in Parisian society by the time the Moulin Rouge is opened….hmmmm… perhaps he will be "against" all the brothel stands for?

WriterMuseoftheNight: Thank you for the compliment. The last chapter was a bit "packed" with information, but that's what happens when I have time for my mind to wander. We sort of needed an update on what was going on for the people in the story don't you think? I often smile when I read reviews because some do guess what is coming next…..

Yes, my assignment did go well…which of course always leads to another one. And sadly that takes me away from my passion…this story….but thankfully for me, it will be a few weeks away!

Phantomfan13: Yes, the storm has slowed everyone down…in fact it almost feels like they are moving in slow motion doesn't it? The foal….I cannot tell you my dear, but let us just say we may become rather attached to the little darling in the future!

My goodness you've a busy schedule with school…you've touched on another one of my passions…science. In fact before I settled on my current profession, I had every intention of becoming a bio-chemist…yes…I was one of those nerds that memorized the periodic table, and could spew out the formulas and compositions of many common elemental things. Yikes…yet another confession…I'm solidifying my psycho-nerd image a little more each day!

Tex110: Raoul and Meg are a bit happier than I think anyone might have imagined. Most, including myself, had a disdain for Raoul as far as Christine was concerned. When she is taken out of the equation, as you suggested, it allows him a chance to develop into some sort of a less loathsome creature. Now, if we have bought into the idea that Erik and Raoul might actually be siblings, then it stands to reason that there has to be some sort of similarities in them…and since our beloved Erik is handsome, wise, handsome, strong, and did I mention handsome….LOL….that another human that shares at least part of his DNA would have to be at the very least, sort of loveable! Oh my, I am a silly sort aren't I?