Christine had been luxuriating in the bath that Misty had drawn. "Not too warm," she'd heard the doctor's words in her ears, telling Misty she preferred something just above tepid when her stomach pained her. Given the morning she'd had, Misty hadn't questioned it. Christine listened to the slow methodical pitch of a pair of shovels. They'd be clearing a path from the stable to the house no doubt. She stretched one last time, and then allowed herself to slide below the depth of the water.
Christine held her breath, slipping below the surface of the water, running her fingers through her hair, rinsing from it the cream she'd worked in. This was a trick she'd learned from Madame Giry. She'd been blessed with an abundant head of curls that had quite the mind of their own if they weren't tamed.
Then, she did something she'd not done since she was a wee girl in the company of her governess. She'd observed, quite by accident, that she could hear music so differently whilst she was beneath the water. It had become a game she'd dabble in whenever she'd bathe. Her father would sit off in the next room playing his violin as she would take her bath. Just before finishing she'd whistle and her father would begin to play that old favorite lullaby as Christine would slip beneath the water, humming the song in her head. She found herself going through the motions now, though much older, she'd enjoy it still.
She thrust her feet against the end of the basin, pushing her head up through the water, emerging as a great mermaid she'd read of in Scottish tales. She smiled at her own folly; it was such a childish amusement. She wiped the water from her eyes, pulling the great length of her curls into a woven rope behind her head. She'd not noticed, but there was evidence that Misty had come and gone, for there on the chair was a fresh robe and towel, and a fresh cup of ginger tea.
She smiled a bit sheepishly as she stood pulling her hair up behind her, slipping into the comfort of the items provided her. There was a small note sitting beside her cup, just a few short words.
"I've taken the liberty of putting your strudel in to bake mum. No doubt he'll be home soon." Misty.
Christine smiled, saying in a breathy voice, "he'll be home soon." She sighed, those simple words were like a heavenly symphony to her ears…home soon. She pulled the sash of the robe tightly about her waist. She'd best see to being ready for him. She'd no care how long it took, she'd sit by the window all day if that was what was required of her.
She busied herself looking through the wardrobe, selecting something warm yet feminine, delicate but suitable. Yes, it would be the deep scarlet….Erik loved scarlet, and in truth she'd been told by many a young woman that it did nothing but increase her beauty whenever she wore it.
Christine smiled, going about the room tending to this and that. Misty had come in to freshen the tea, and bring her the apple she'd requested. Christine had thanked her properly for tending to the strudel, and for her assistance in putting on her garments. A corset, a bit larger one than her others had been chosen. She knew Erik might object, but the dress required it. She'd asked Misty not to tie it too tightly, and she'd complied without question.
Christine was once again alone in the room, sitting down before the vanity. She'd dipped a bit of rouge on a horse-hair brush and dusted her cheek bones. It gave her a bit of color. A potted lip color added a perk to her lips. She smiled at herself. Her hair was the last thing to be tended to and then she would be ready. "Ready," she said to herself…
XXXXX
Meg had waited for Madeline to come in bringing a pot of tea, pretending to be woken by the light, and the sounds of the men chopping away at the ice outside. Madeline had seen to a bit of pastry and coffee for Meg this morning as Meg enjoyed her bath.
"Not nine yet, Raoul not ready, you enjoy, no hurry." She smiled at Meg as she closed the door to the water closet.
Meg smiled as she turned around looking at the room as it glowed. Madeline had lit a number of scented candles. Meg looked at the crystal tray that was full of new bottles of all the finest lotions and dressings. She'd never seen so many except in a merchant's window…one she'd pass wondering what it would be like to have but one of them. Now she'd have all she desired at her disposal. She dipped her foot into the water. It was hot, but no so much so that she shan't want to climb in.
She hissed just slightly as she came to rest at the bottom of the tub. It was hot, but a wonderful delight to her skin. Madeline had been careful to add nothing but what the doctor had instructed. Though her wounds were healing very nicely, he'd wanted her to care for them so as to keep the scars as faint as possible.
Her mind traveled to the doctor. She wondered where he might be, and if now he'd be able to make his way to see her. She wanted to tell him that she'd not had need to take the medicine in several days, and she'd been free of the nightmares for two nights in a row, a good sign she'd thought. Though it worried her a bit…what would mornings be like if she woke and was not in Raoul's arms? Would she have slept without waking if he'd not been there with her? She'd not know the answer to that question, nor was she eager to find out.
Thus far, Raoul had been content to hold her until she fell asleep, and the to stay watching over her. Yes, perhaps in the eyes of some that would be considered most improper, but she and Raoul knew of the goings on, more specifically of what did not go on, and that was far more important.
Meg allowed herself to sink even further into the water. Her mind traveled to the conversation they'd had the night before. It had been open, honest, and so very real. Raoul would not push, she would not pry. She'd go to visit Elizabeth when her mother went to the Opera House, returning only when she was ready. It was a perfect plan.
She smiled. It would give her opportunity to be freely with Erik and Christine…to see Erik awake, moving….loving her sister. It would give Nadir time to do his research…to find out what if any connection there truly was. He'd be able to come and go freely between Paris and Chauesser and none would be any the wiser, thinking it to be necessary. Yes, this would do nicely. She'd have time to think without pressure…to be certain she could make this choice, make this change, breaking away from all she knew. For she and Nadir had not decided if they did discover the lineage was as they suspected, what they would do with the knowledge. It would have the power to bless or destroy, and its outcome would be far too unpredictable.
Meg's smile had turned to a blank stare. What if it were true? She'd thought about the idea a thousand times, but now, in the quiet of the room her mind focused on it with a drilling sense of importance. There were far too many possible complications…it would be difficult, but then again, the truth often is.
Meg would finish the bath and then set about dressing in the persimmon dress. She had no idea what it was that Raoul had planned, but she'd come to trust him. His game of the evening passed seemed to have gone well. She'd no doubt that whatever he'd planned it would be most enjoyable.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Raoul startled as he turned around. The pair of eyes that rested on his breastbone were intent on having their way. "What is it…I'd thought you'd gone to bed after staying up all night." Raoul said to his father as he walked passed him, removing his robe.
His father let out a deep disgusted sigh. "Raoul, do you know how Monsieur Meiller's wife found out of his infidelity, or how Comte de Lagrange's mathematical theories were leaked to his contemporaries, or how LeMason was found to have been receiving visitors from Russia?" His father's eyes were wide.
"Father, whatever does this have to do with our current situation?" Raoul said as he passed him. He listened as his father huffed once more.
Raoul was both irritated by, and tired of, his father's constant analogies. If he'd something to say, he wished he'd just come out with it. But he knew full well the questions would continue until he replied. "Do tell father, how is it that this was done."
His father followed Raoul into his wardrobe. "Their servants. Their servants betrayed them. Those they thought to be most trusted in the end had betrayed them." His father said, now following Raoul as he carried the garments he'd selected to his bed, laying them out.
"To what point is all of this leading father?" Raoul said glancing up at him after straightening the garments in preparation.
His father was more than happy to oblige. "You think your staff to be worthy, careful, discrete, but in truth, you know this knowledge shan't have escaped them."
Raoul walked passed his father, retrieving his shaving mug and blade. "Noticed what father?" Raoul knew where this was leading, but he'd make his father say it….say it out loud so he could hear how ridiculous it sounded.
His father rose, being some inches taller than Raoul he'd always used this to his advantage, though today Raoul was having none of it. His father walked beside Raoul as he shaved. He started his discourse, "your comings and goings at all hours of the night, the fact that your bed remains unused night after night, the laughter into the wee hours of the morning that come from behind Meg's closed door." Raoul's father stood shaking his head disapprovingly at Raoul. "You are not married, you are not betrothed, though even that would not permit such behavior."
Raoul glared at his father, then returned to his shaving, dipping the blade in the water swishing it about and raising it once again to his cheek. "A discrete interlude, a few impassioned meetings in private, those may be overlooked or dismissed out of hand, but this…you traipse her about as though she was already your wife, and the rest of us had missed the opportunity of your wedding!"
Raoul laid down his blade on the sink, leaning heavily on it, his shoulders slouched, his head hung but steady. "Enough," he said in a low tone.
His father not paying any mind to Raoul's obvious posture continued, "if your mother were alive she'd be mortified by your obliviously egregious behavior, to trot about with a young woman as such…." DeChagny's words were cut short.
Raoul stood erect, spinning himself round to face his father. The vein in his neck bulged, his eyes in a painful sliver, "ENOUGH! Far too long I've allowed you to bully me, to belittle me, to pass judgment, when you yourself have not lived a life un-blotted by indiscretion, nor unscrupulous behaviors." Raoul's eyes softened, allowing the true inner pain to peek through if for a fleeting moment.
"Enough, it has been enough. I am a grown man now father, quite capable of deciding what I shall and shall not do. You yourself charted your own course, and happily so, and now you've the audacity to demand that I forfeit mine in order to please you?" Raoul's lips trembled, though he'd not be undone by his fears or insecurities. "You are a guest in my house father, and though I've every desire to allow you to stay as long as you like, I'll not have you passing judgment on any of my other guests or on me. I am your only son, and if I am to find happiness and produce for you a suitable heir, then you'd find yourself in a more favorable position if you'd allow me the privacy and space to allow this relationship flourish. I'd lost my first love, and though you feigned concern for my sorrows, in truth you'd not found her suitable either. Now, as an adult, I've grown to love the woman Meg has become, so much so that I am ready even now to ask for her hand in marriage." Raoul's eyes burned as he looked on the horror of his father's face.
"She is not ready father, and unlike you I will not pressure this creature into a life she might find in time to be a prison if she does not enter it with her eyes open and knowing. If this requires in these hours that we've left together as she convalesces in the comfort of my home, that we spend every moment together, then so be it. It is Meg and I that must know the purity of our relationship, it really is of no matter to another. We know, we understand, why is it that you will not even permit me this one bit of happiness when it can come to nothing more than a suitable end? I've want for children, I've want for the good name of DeChagny to go on, do not doubt that. But you father, must allow me to live my own life. Simply because yours may be filled with regret, does not provide that mine ought not contain happiness. If you have any care for my happiness, you'll not meddle where your opinion has not been called for."
With that Raoul picked up the cloth and wiped the remaining shaving cream from his face. He looked his father squarely in the eye, grabbed his jacket and left his father standing alone in his room. DeChagny dropped himself to the bench in front of Raoul's fireplace. His son had never spoken to him in such a bruising manner, and it quite simply left him without a voice.
XXXXX
The man had slept out in the stable with the new foal. Aside from having to come to his aid just once as he tried to clear some phlegm from his throat it had been a fairly uneventful night.
The maid had brought him out a plate of breakfast and some coffee early on, but now the sun was shining fully, and upon inspection he could see that there was a bit of smoke rising from the kitchen, a wonderful scent wafting towards the stables. He walked over once more peeking at the foal that now lay sound asleep against his mother's side. He'd lock the stable up sturdily, though likely nothing would disturb them in the light of day.
He walked carefully down the narrow path they'd carved from the house to the stable. He'd have to spend the day making a larger swath…all the more reason to pursue a bit more breakfast!
XXXXXX
Madame Giry was fully dressed now, having slipped into a wool dress. She'd heard from Madeline that most of the household still slept, but that Meg was up and about, just having had a bath. She'd decided to go down to the parlor with her book taking in the sounds of a busy household rather than staying in the seclusion of her bedroom. She'd almost hoped she'd be able to lend a hand, even at a menial task. She needed to feel productive. All this idleness did not agree with her normal modus operendi.
She lifted her tray with cup and pot, carrying it to the door, she'd nearly left when she realized she'd left the pages she'd written to Nadir drying in the window seat. She shook her head, that would have been most difficult to explain if they'd been discovered. She sat the tray down and returned to the sheets, carefully folding them, slipping them into the envelope. She tucked it carefully into the drawer of her nightstand. She'd return for it when she felt she'd opportunity to do so. She returned to the tray, glancing only once at the door that separated her from Nadir. As she slid the drawer closed, entombing the note, she blushed. That brief moment of insanity that she'd found herself in his arms, would be a sweet forever memory. She strode through the door and out into the hall, closing the door behind her.
Her door no sooner closed than the door between the two rooms opened. There Nadir stood, his eyes red and wet. Though it should have been from the overwhelming tired that he felt, it was not. His heart ached. He knew not where the future would find either of them, but he knew it would be a much colder place without her in it. He silently closed the door and wandered back to his bed. He quickly found himself fading off to sleep, rehashing the note he'd written her in his own mind. He'd no idea if she'd read it, though by now he'd hoped she would have. Would she be able to forgive him? And then he faded off to sleep.
XXXXX
The city of Chauesser now lay behind them as the dogs pulled the sled quite easily across the new layer of snow. Erik was kept warm by the dog that lay nearly in his lap. He reached down scratching at the dog's ear, the dog in turn licking at Erik's gloved hand.
He'd never had a an animal of any kind to bond with; his horse being the exception and that only out of necessity. He'd spent much time with him, but not from the beginning of his life. It was obvious that this dog had been loved from the first. He was so gentle and attentive.
Erik's thoughts wandered precipitously back to Courtland Manor. Even now he wondered of the foal that was soon due. He hoped it would deliver, giving him reason to retreat there for a visit. Though he loved his time spent with Christine at the winter house, something beckoned him for the larger expanse of Courtland Manor. Perhaps it was his need for solitude, to be in the dark of his studio for a few hours each day.
Unlike the people who'd grown to love the light of day…it was the darkness that rejuvenated him, satisfied his inner urge for harmony and balance. The very song he'd written, that he'd sung to Christine when first she was in his lair, beckoned her to join him in that passion… "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and wakes imagination…" it was his love affair with darkness spilled onto the pages of parchment he'd written for her. Erik closed his eyes, the glare from the snow being far too great for his already painful eyes.
His mind grasped at her memory…that memory of her sweet face when first she beheld his lair, his grotto, his home. He smiled….the look in her eyes when he'd begun to sing, "open up your mind let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night…" the look of innocence undone in her eyes. She'd surrendered to him that night…no not in body….but in spirit….she'd relinquished her freedom to him…though he'd not come to fully comprehend that until much later.
How she laid in that bed…he sitting at the piano as she slept without trepidation just a room away. He sighed…it was a bittersweet memory now. Oh how his heart longed for her…his soul yearned for her…his body needed her touch…the warmth of her hands on his skin…not out of lust…but out of pure connection…out of love.
He sighed again, this time his lungs erupted in a heavy cough, and though he tried to refrain, he could not. His chest seized him in fits, causing the sled driver to turn round and look at him. "Are you alright sir?" Erik held up his hand indicating that he should pay him no mind.
The driver clicked his tongue and slowly led the sled to a stop. Erik's coughing had not subsided still. The man was digging deeply into a well-worn leather pouch that was attached to the sled. From it he withdrew a small paper envelope, handing it to Erik. Then he pulled out a jar of hot coffee that the innkeeper had given him, pouring Erik a cup. "Here, drink this first, then take those." The man dismounted his sled, going to check on each dog.
Erik gratefully supped the coffee, it did help to ease his coughing a bit, though not entirely. Peering inside the envelope he tipped it on its side, depositing into his palm two rock like objects, ashen black in color. He looked up at the man who was just glancing back at him.
"Go on, they'll not kill ya," he called back to Erik.
Erik looked down at them hesitantly putting them into his mouth. Immediately he felt a sting on his tongue and an intense smoky black-licorice taste perked his taste buds. He began rolling them about in his mouth, swallowing as they slowly began to dissolve. It was a bit like eating rock candy he thought to himself, though decidedly less pleasant.
In a few minutes time the sled driver returned, mounting the sled once more. "There now, not so bad as you'd first be thinking then are they." Erik gave him a brief smile as the man turned round mushing the dogs once more.
Erik could tell by their surroundings that they were nearly three-fourths the way home. With any fortune at all, they'd arrive before Christine took her late morning tea. No doubt she'd be worried. At least he'd had the foresight to tell her he might stay the night in Chauesser, though he'd not imagined it would be under such circumstances. He coughed once more, but easily stifled it. He'd have to ask the man what they were, and where he might find more if he needed them.
As the sled began to move at a faster pace again, Erik closed his eyes for their comfort. He thought of the poor grieving family that lay back in Chauesser…the look in Nicole's eyes when he'd retrieved her just before her grandmother died…the look in her eyes when he was leaving…he'd remember that look forever. His brow furrowed.
He'd thought of his harsh words to the men at the inn. He'd meant every word, and though it was much restrained in terms of what he might like to have said, he thought he'd not add insult to injury by further denigrating them. The look in some of the men's eyes as he left showed that some despised either him or his chastising words, the difference between the two was very little, his words were his words. He'd wanted to wake them out of their stupor, to help them to see their own folly, good was not done without men doing it… His brow furrowed further at the thought of the words…hero…honored… He'd have none of it…not one bit of it….a hero he was not.
The sled jostled to one side, nearly tipping, but quickly righted itself. Erik opened his eyes, there, off in the distance he could barely see it, but he could…it was the winter house, and it never looked so good to him as it did in these moments… "home is wherever family is, wherever love lives…" he recalled Christine's sincere words from their tender moments in the caverns below the Opera House before they'd fled Paris…yes, home was where his love lived…and that was wherever Christine was. He'd hold her in his arms tenderly, greet his children with ardor, and fall into her waiting loving arms. Home….what a wonderful word.
Author's Notes:
Captainoblivious: You know what, I think the poor sled dog has eaten far too much, and since you've decided to dive under his blankets, you could be in for a sour surprise! LOL! Yes, our dear Erik has quite the temper doesn't he? Alas, I wouldn't have it any other way…it makes him all the more intriguing!
Phantomsrogue: Change of heart…I know just what you mean. I have parts of chapters that I revise a dozen times before I am happy with it. I look forward to hearing from you. Yes, I should like to see the costume, I'm certain it will be perfect for you.
Ah yes, sugar pumpkin soup does have its tricks. I have a favorite restaurant that I go to whenever I'm in that area W.A.Frost. That is a chef that knows how to prepare the best pumpkin soup I've ever had. The secret there is chicken stock…something your sister would not likely imbibe.
Sounds like your coworkers enjoyed themselves. I have a similar experience several times a year at work. I make scones in the spring for our support staff, chocolate torte with ganache just before summer arrives, caramel apples in the fall, and during the holidays…sadly sugar overload reins the day…I bake sixteen different kinds of cookies from recipes from around the world. Way too much fun for me. That is what I spend my birthday weekend doing….up to my elbows in flour. I just enjoy the creation process…not so much the eating…truth be told, I probably only eat one of each kind just to make sure they taste as they should…but hey, that's still over a dozen cookies in one weekend! Can we say extra pilates anyone? LOL!
Yes, our Erik is something else isn't he? I could just see him going into the restrained rage. He, if you recall, is quite unaccustomed to restraining himself, so that alone was quite a feat! Ah yes, I agree, I could not wait myself! And my dear, do lay your fears to rest. Though there will be coming periods of separation when I am again off on assignment, I have no intentions of this story ending soon….there is far too much to happen yet! Though I do long for writing the other story…
PhantomFan13: You made me laugh today. I thought I was the only one who worried about losing the story! I've thought about printing a copy, though I'm afraid an entire forest will be stripped just for the paper! LOL!
Yes, I too long for a reunion, it is so painful to see all these souls suffering as they are. It would be so much easier if everyone knew the truth, but as in real life, the truth is often elusive…some go to their grave never knowing it……
Batteredchild: Thank you for the compliment. I toyed so with Erik's outburst, not being quite sure how far to go, or if he'd let enough of his fury escape him. But in the end, the people of Chauesser need to respect him….. Glad you liked that line…could you see Erik's eyes glowing red with anger as he "taught them a lesson"?
Diveprincess: All in good time my dear…all in good time!
Tex110: You would have to figure out my favorites! I don't know if you have an actual store in your area, but there is one about an hour from my house. My sister and I were doing a bit of Holiday shopping last December and happened upon the store when the "HOT" sign was lit. Needless to say, watching the process, our resolve weakened and before we knew it, we'd each consumed three…that's right….three donuts and a large coffee. I was not prepared for the ensuing caffeine and sugar high that coursed through my veins, and I'd not do it again….though we did get a considerable amount of "buying" done the hour following our little detour down sugar lane! LOL! I'm very glad I don't live near one or I'd weigh 200 pounds!
WriterMuseoftheNight: I like your thought….they're just jealous…and so naïve they don't even know their jealous! LOL! Yes, our dear Erik has much to teach the world. If you recall the song "No one would listen" from the second DVD of POTO, you could tell that he desperately needed an outlet for his talents…to reach out and touch the world…. He has so much to give… Ahhh… And yes, I rather fancy his temper, though I'd not want to be on the receiving end of it! Yes, there was a sneaky reference in the conversation at the Inn about Lady C…good catch…! Right now its March, just how far into it, I'd have to go back and see, but not terribly far…
ElvieIII: My dear, I am not easily confused, but this one stumped me "Well I know this sounds pretty morbid. But actualy It was all of the bodies which had turned to stone due to the ash fall in Pompeii ( not exactly rome. but you get the drift)" Can you help me? At first I thought you were referring to a long passed chapter, but then I looked back and I did mention Pompeii… hmm…perhaps you'll enlighten me?
Yes, our dear Erik is on his way back to his beloved….I can hardly wait! Thank you for your encouraging words. It was a stretch to alter him in this way, but we needed for him to be as handsome as he had become in our hearts didn't we?
Christineluvserik: No blemishes my dear….just skin.