Nadir was just coming down the stairs when Madeline was at the base of them. She had a pot of tea in her hand and a plate of biscuits with preserves. It was quite hard to estimate what to bring someone when it was late afternoon but their palate would be craving something of breakfast. "Sir, good…um…"
Nadir smiled at her taking the tray from her hands. "May I take that for you Madeline, no doubt you've plenty of other duties to keep you quite occupied."
She nodded and turned disappearing to the kitchen. Indeed she did have a number of things that needed her attention, including the dinner she was preparing for the remainder of the household that did not live like bats, staying up until all hours she thought to herself disgustedly.
Nadir smirked at her as she shook her head slightly walking back to the kitchen. He was entirely certain that all of the additional house guests had been quite an upheaval for the poor dear.
Indeed, likely nothing had been normal since Christine had gone missing. Her master had been distraught for a long while, and just when it might have seemed he was recovering, Meg entered his life in a sizeable way. Then, to have rescued her so heroically after professing his feelings for her in front of half of Parisian society…and to have brought her there, along with her mother…. Well, the house had certainly filled in a most unexpected, however temporal way. Had Madeline and the reaminder of Raoul's staff not been so accommodating, the stay for all concerned would not have been nearly as pleasant. Yes, DeChagny had brought along several from his own staff to be of assistance, and the cook and additional maid had been of help to her. Nadir had no doubt Madeline longed for those quiet days when she could tend to the business of caring for a bachelor, especially one as refined and well-bred as Raoul.
Nadir watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. He took his tray of steaming biscuits and preserves to the parlor. It was a bit formal there, and not nearly so warm as the hallway, so he decided instead, to retreat to the library.
As he sat down in the leather chair by the fire, he mused at how attentive Raoul's staff truly were. No doubt Madeline had heard him moving about on the floor above, the scufflings and scrapings of chairs moving and doors being opened, alerted her to his rousings. It amazed him how very in-tune and attentive staff had to be to anticipate the needs of the household. It was an art, one that had been honed over centuries, taught with great care from one generation to the next. To be a servant in such a fine household required something of a pedigree in itself. Madeline, Nadir decided as he took his first mouthful of the flaky biscuit with melting sweet cream butter and sweet strawberry preserves, had been well raised, well trained, and as skillful in her delivery of duties as any he'd ever seen.
Nadir sat savoring the trio of biscuits until the very last crumb had been consumed. After another cup of tea, Nadir was ready to face the day, or what remained of it. He glanced out the window, perhaps he'd end up dining in the city, if anything were open, and if it were late enough when he was finished, he might find lodging at Sara's inn. Though it had sat dormant for nearly a month and a half, he'd no doubt he'd still find sufficient wood, and comfortable bedding to manage for the night.
He rose brushing the crumbs from his vest onto the plate. Was that sleigh bells? His eyes widened. If Raoul's staff had anticipated that which would neither be normal this time of year, nor had been requested, Nadir would have to re-phrase his thoughts. If indeed that were true, Raoul's staff were not merely attentive, but clairvoyant!
Nadir made his way to the window just as the sleigh pulled near the side of the house, as close to the veranda as was possible. Nadir smiled. It was apparent from the three bundled figures that he spied, that the rest of the family had ventured out for a ride that afternoon, in lieu of seeking an indoor activity.
Nadir released the curtain reaching for his cloak. At least he knew that the sleigh was in working order, and the horses had managed quite well. Nadir slipped his cloak over his shoulder walking to the door. He met Madeline in the hallway, she'd been coming to retrieve the plate and refill his teapot.
"Thank you Madeline, the biscuits were superb my dear, oh, how do I say it…" Nadir thought for a moment, his French was a bit rusty. "Cela était délicieux, merci.!"
Madeline smiled as she passed him, nodding. She'd forgive him his trespasses of the evening before, seeing as he'd been so pleasant and appreciative today.
XXXXXX
The doctor checked in on the sleeping woman before he returned to the sitting room just outside of her bedchamber.
"Your sister is still sleeping." He began putting on his cloak, looking at his pocket watch. "It is four o'clock. If she hasn't risen by five-thirty, do wake her. She needs to eat and drink something or she cannot have any additional medicine, you be certain to tell her that won't you?"
The woman nodded. "She should take no more than one of these today. Tomorrow and the day after she may have two more each day, but no more after that."
The woman nodded, she'd see to it. "Thank you," she said, reaching out for his arm, "thank you for staying with her, and for caring for my brother-in-law."
The doctor nodded, "it was my pleasure to be at your service." He descended the stairs rather hurriedly. Though the day was still light, he was rather eager to return to Raoul's to see how everyone was faring, and to make certain Raoul knew of the dying man's professions. No doubt the boy was long gone, but even now the doctor couldn't be entirely certain that he'd not arrive at Raoul's and find the unexpected, just as this poor woman did when she'd come to aide her sister.
He moved ever more quickly to the door. The sleigh outside was small but sturdy and the driver willing. They'd not had terribly far to travel, though an estimate was hard given the altered terrain. With all good fortune following them, the driver would find himself at home by the time his wife put his dinner on the table.
XXXXX
"This woman's already been prepared?" The undertaker said as he slid his instruments from beneath the woman's skin. He'd looked over the deep gash in her side that had been sewn shut. It was a jagged wound, no doubt an accident of some sort or another in this storm.
His assistant just shrugged. "They'd not said much sir, just that she's to be readied, and the bill can be sent to…here, this is the paper the man brought with her." The undertaker unfolded the paper. On it was scrawled but a few words.
Cher Monsieur,
This woman is to have to ivory casket on display in your window. See that the bill for your services rendered is prepared and waiting in your office the day after the morrow. I shall be in to take care of it in full. Do not, under any circumstances accept payment from the woman's family. If you follow my instructions precisely, you shall be duly rewarded. S.C.
The man wrinkled his nose. "Is this not the same man who paid for the last elderly woman that we prepared not a week ago?" The man inquired of his apprentice.
"Yes sir, I do believe it is." The young man said as he went about his business preparing the woman for her final placement in the coffin that had been selected for her.
The man's face turned to a bitter scowl. "I do find it strange that both women, found themselves quite dead, and he was the last to be involved with them…don't you find that odd Oliver?"
The young man just shrugged his shoulders again. As far as he was concerned, it was a man who was timely about paying his bill, and he'd only requested the finest caskets available. It shouldn't matter the circumstances, he'd not been accused of having his hand in any crimes. The undertaker walked away scratching at his chin. "Very odd indeed."
XXXXX
Erik slipped the keys into the deep velvet pocket of his robe. The ring of keys made a bit of a clatter. Erik looked over his shoulder, Christine had not so much as fluttered an eyelash. Erik returned the bust to its place on the pedestal. He was duly skilled in the art of moving in shadow, slipping in and out undetected. It had been a long while since he'd done so, but it came back to him within a few steps.
Before he'd even thought of it consciously, he found himself out in the hall. First he would check the safe behind the picture on the wall in the sunroom. Erik saw no fingerprints on the picture, and what little bit of dust lay on the edges of it were undisturbed. The lock gave way easily, the contents were in tact. Next he moved to the closet at the end of the hall, a secret panel slid aside, revealing a small door. Erik used the second key on the ring to open it. He moved through it crouching low. In this small place he'd lit a match from his pocket. The weapons were all still there, none had been moved even a fraction of an inch in their holders. Christine had not been there. Erik blew out the match.
He moved stealthily to the other end of the hall, going up the small staircase to the widow's walk in the turret at the peak of the house. Beneath the octagon bench that lay below the colored windows, was yet another small cover. Erik lifted the cushion using the third key to open the box. The silver, and several bars of gold, were indeed still there. Beside it Erik felt about, the sheathed dagger also lay carefully in its home, just where it should be. Though he was relieved his brow furrowed. What had it been that interested her so?
Erik moved silently, undetected from room to room, and finally down the stairs. He'd avoided his staff on several occasions. It surprised him how alive he felt. This game was so familiar and so much a part of who he had been nearly all of his life. Though he'd not wanted to admit it, there was something that felt stimulating about the game….he'd rather missed it.
He'd gone to the closet with the small arsenal of guns, the trap door where one could hide, the provisions of food and water were still there. The hidden box beside the fireplace mantel in the parlor still contained its documents, the cellar was still in tact. At each station he was met with absolute continuity…she had not been there.
Erik was puzzled. Each of the seventeen keys that he'd showed Christine had produced nary a clue. He sat in the parlor, leaning against the wall. Perhaps she'd merely knocked the bust over and the keys had fallen out….no, he knew better, he was making up excuses. What on earth could it have been, each and every thing he'd shown her appeared not to be disturbed. There was but one locked thing in the remainder of the house, he'd not shown her, and indeed she'd not have figured out the key if she had tried.
His eyes grew wide. There was only that ONE thing he'd not checked, but he was certain that it was safe, she'd not been shown how to open it. Erik rose, slipping quite easily down the hall passed the kitchen to the room. He opened and closed the room with nary a sound. The room was cool, no fire had been lit here as it had not been required. Erik moved over to his desk sitting down in the chair. The room was darkened by the curtains that always remained lowered unless he bid them otherwise. He'd not want to draw attention to the room by uncovering the window.
Erik inhaled as he slid his hand beneath the desk, tugging on the drawer. It had not been unlocked, he was certain of it. Using the key in one hand and twisting the ring that it was on, pushing it up into a groove underneath the drawer, he heard a tumbler move, and the door slid open easily. In the dark Erik ran his hands over the contents. Though he could not see the items, he knew them by heart as he ran his hand over each article. He sighed in relief. Nothing had been moved, he was sure of it. He slid the drawer closed.
He'd have to one day revisit the items in the drawer, though he'd not do so soon. Erik stood, sliding the chair beneath the desk. He felt about the top of the desk searching for the ring of keys he'd laid down. Just before he'd found them, his fingers slid over something that was not at all as smooth as the rest of the surface. Erik paused, running his hand back over it again, and again. Something was amiss. He huffed he needed to see it. It was his house and if he'd be found in the room in the full light of day with curtains wide open, none would be able to protest, it was his house after all.
Erik walked over to the window, drawing the curtain back. The light spilled into the room. Not the bright sunlight of the morning, but a light of the coming dusk. He turned looking back at the surface of his desk, and there it was. His eyes beheld what the tips of his fingers had discovered. Erik's eyes grew wide. He walked over to it, crouching low examining it with both his eyes and fingers. He quickly assessed that it had been caused by something heated and moist, no doubt the bottom of something. It was far too small to be from a carelessly placed pot of tea. Erik had no idea why anyone would have been in the study with a pot of tea during his absence.
As he ran his fingers over it yet again, it came to him. It was from a tea cup. Now he was entirely certain who it had been. Christine had but one flaw that he could even think of and that had been what had betrayed her. She rather enjoyed carrying about her tea cup without its saucer. Normally she was very careful not to sit it down on any fine surface, but perhaps in this case, she was far too distracted by her real purpose for being in that room to pay attention to her carelessness.
Erik sat down in the chair once more. He'd not thought Christine to be the prying type, in fact, he'd rather thought her to be quite the opposite. He knew not what he should do. Should he ask her what it was that brought her there? Should he ask if she'd been looking for stationary and become curious about the contents of the drawer, and finding it locked did she think that he'd simply forgotten to mention that lock to her. Or, had she found the locked drawer on an expedition to discover every nook and cranny of the house?
Erik was angry, though he'd not wanted to direct it at Christine. She had always been a curious one, and indeed he'd rather found that amusing…but now….being on the receiving end of such, he found it rather unnerving. He sighed. Perhaps he would wait for her ask him, and then perhaps she'd tell him the entire story. Yes, that seemed to be the most prudent course of action.
He looked once more disgustedly at the raised circle on the desk. The desk had belonged to Louis the XIV, it had come from the palace of Versailles. In all those years no damage had been done to it, and now, look at it! He was saddened, and a bit more than irritated. He'd see to having it rubbed with oil and polished, though he doubted that would fix it entirely. He rose, going to the door, he turned the lock to secure the door. He walked slowly, reticently, back to the desk, inserting the key, and the ring into the depression beneath the drawer. Slowly sliding the drawer open. Erik stared down with cautious eyes, at the contents. His eyes roamed from one thing to another. He pressed the lids of his eyes together tightly, closing the drawer quickly, latching it locked.
He leaned his arms on the desk, pressing his head into them. He began to cry. He suffered so trying to keep his emotions silent so he wouldn't be detected. His shoulders shook back and forth, as he sobbed in silence. He leaned back in the chair, his head resting on the back of it. It had been another life, oh he wanted to put it all behind him. He lifted his head, looking around the room. It had all been of a former life. A life he'd no desire to return to, nor dabble in. When one is finished with one life, they choose to move on, to grow beyond it, they needed to leave it in the past. Though he wanted to purge it from his mind, there was something about the contents of that drawer that he could not release it. They told a story, a story of a man, his obsessions, his insanity, his redemption…he could simply not let them go. Something about them helped to remind him how terrible he had been…and far he had come.
Erik rose, walking to the window, lowering the curtain to its original position. He yawned. At this point he'd no idea what had exhausted him more. The last twenty-four hours contained more life than most men live in four days!
He would return to her side. He needed to learn of this new beast in his life, the idea of assuming one to be innocent unless proven otherwise. He'd lived his entire life with suspicion, and the last consideration he'd ever offered anyone, even his dearest confidante Nadir, was the benefit of the doubt. This was a skill he'd have to come to learn if he wished to form lasting unions of friendship with any creature.
Erik knew he loved her, trusted her, but part of him needed to know. Would she never let go of the past of his which she did not know? Could he? Would it let go of him? He didn't know the answer to any of the questions that raged in his mind.
He walked through the door, peeking out, looking this way and that. He moved down the hall to the kitchen. Seeing no one, he moved in, going to the large pot of water that remained on the back burner. He retrieved a small pot, and a tea ball from the cupboard. He dug about until he found the tin of black currant tea. He'd come to enjoy this particular leaf with Madame Giry. He'd specifically had it selected at the mercantile. He'd hoped one day she'd return to share it with him. He smiled. Today he'd enjoy a pot of it. Though they couldn't be together to share it, they would do so in spirit. Erik would raise his first cup to her when it was brewed.
He filled the pot with boiling water, submersing the ball. It hissed madly. There was pleasure in that process alone Erik thought. The dry leaf had a mild rather pleasant scent. It was not until it was forced from its dormant state by the permeating, demanding heat of the boiling water that it released its true beauty. The fragrances released when a tea leaf swells its first were truly the leaf at its finest moment. Engorged with the boiling liquid, bleeding of its best profusely, it was releasing the very purpose for its life in those moments.
Erik marveled as he looked at the bubbling pot, it was a great deal like the human condition. The human passes through life, mostly one being like the other. It is not until the heat of life, nay, the boiling point, where ones true courage, true purpose is revealed. When one is tested by the heat, the purest form of that soul is laid bare for the world to see. That was the essence of life. He'd had his share of boiling-point moments, and not all of them had produced characteristics that he could be proud of. He was a changing man though…the more time he spent in the presence of that angelic creature that lay in his bed upstairs, the better man he became.
He shook his head. He needed to return to her. His reflections came to him at the oddest of times. In the Opera House, those moments quite typically led to hours, nay endless day, and sleepless nights spent at the piano composing music to capture that moment in time, that emotion, that revelation. Now he did not have that release and something deep inside of him missed it. His mind quickly wandered back to Christine. He smiled. She had been his release as of late. He'd traded one obsession for another. He loved them both…but now he'd found an obsession that could return that love…and she did so with unparalleled intensity. He smiled yet again. Perhaps when life produced a more settled environment, he could write a bit more, but for now he would focus on being the husband of this woman.
Erik turned, shaking his head yet again. They already had cups on the tray in their room, all that he needed was the pot that was in his hand. Erik moved quietly back to the door, and down the hall.
Misty came into the kitchen. "Hello?" She shook her head. It felt as if someone was there. She shook her head, it had been her imagination. She turned looking at the cupboard. The tin of tea still lay on it. She walked over picking it up and placing it back into the cupboard. She shook her head again. It had to have been her imagination. Everyone else was in the servants quarters. The elder woman had insisted that everyone was to be quite as the master and his wife slumbered.
Misty went back to her room. She'd want to finish the remainder of the book she'd been reading. Elizabeth had promised to borrow her one of her own once she'd finished and reported on the one she was reading. It was her one pleasure.
Erik made his way back into the room without so much as a sound. He sat the pot of tea down on the table in front of the fire. He returned the keys to the bust. Returning to the tea, and the remainder of the pastry. It was cold, and the frosting now hardened, though he didn't mind. It was a treat for the senses, just the right blend of sweet and tart, and a hint of salt, with the cinnamon he so enjoyed. He sliced another piece from the larger pastry. As he sipped his tea, and took bite after delectable bite, he realized his eating habits had become somewhat strange. Perhaps Christine's pregnancy had affected him. He grew hungry now at all the wrong times, and his hunger today surprised him.
He'd eaten three pieces before he'd even realized it. Then he sat the plate down, supping the last of his third cup of tea. He stretched, looking back over at Christine. He'd have much to speak of to her, but it would wait. Right now all he had want to do was return to her arms. Her tender, loving arms.
Author's Notes:
PhantomsRogue: Yes, I did get a chance to read your message, I'll have to respond to it. There are so many different directions one could go with the triangle isn't there?
Erik does have a dark brooding side, even though he wants to keep it hidden, even deny it himself. He is a man-in-progress. He, and we, would be fools to think he could be changed in a flash. Oh, do not get me wrong, his priorities are changing, but the old Erik did not die…he simply went into a dormant state.
Madame Giry and Nadir…yes they should be happy…they deserve it don't they? It will be hard to tell if their obligations will keep them apart or if they will throw caution to the wind. Hmmmm….I guess it is quite up to them!
Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !
Batteredchild: Yes, the triplets would make that lump visible about the end of that third month. Normally you wouldn't see a thing yet, but multiples make it a bit harder to hide.
Your second comment, about the ring on the desk…well…you were right…truly the ring betrayed the woman. You know, most criminals, even the best and brightest are often foiled and discovered by an a bad habit that they don't even think about. A certain cigarette that they smoke, a way they fold a gum wrapper, the way they leave a radio playing when they leave an apartment, what they eat, etc. It was no different with Christine. She liked her cup without a saucer, and it had been the tell-tale.
WriterMuseoftheNight: I don't know if he relapsed so much as he simply was covering it up with all of this other stuff…I don't think he's ever let go of it…or it of him. I think he's always know she was curious, and up until this point he thought it was "cute". But now, being on the receiving end…he isn't all that certain that he likes it. Even for the woman he's shared the most intimate parts of his life with, he still cannot bring himself to share his past. Hmmm…just when you think you know someone! LOL! Pandora is the epitome of the female psyche isn't she? We are curious…but that is o.k., so are men…and we call them inventors! Hmmmm…
Yes, the storm…it was purposeful…it was immobilizing, keeping people together in places so things could be developed and resolved. There is just something about being stranded that brings out the best, and worst in people…its almost like a concentrated form of claustrophobia, it heightens all of the realities. Sorry, I've dabbled in psychology…its part of what I do for a living…
The celebration that is coming to Chauesser in a few short weeks…well…let us just say that it could be something to watch for….oh I cannot say more.
The epitath for Christine's tombstone…I think it said something like "Beloved Wife and Mother" but I'd have to go back and watch the ending. I have to tell you that I have stopped watching the ending because I rather like to imagine them living in the presence of our little story…and in this one she most decidedly belongs to Erik.
Phantomfan13: Yes, our dear Erik had discovered the "ring" and let us just say he is not at all pleased. Two reasons. First and foremost, he doesn't want anyone in that drawer….he doesn't even want to be in that drawer right now…he's trying to embrace his current happiness. Second, that desk, if you know of Louis XIV, would be a great, GREAT, piece of French furniture. More than an antique….Louis XIV was renowned for his sense of style, his sense of structure and architecture, and sense of being a man in his own right. All qualities that Erik admired greatly. For him to have a piece of furniture that belonged to a King that reigned for 72 years (the longest in French history) meant a great deal to him. Sorry for the little historical detour! So yes, Erik is irritated, but he is trying to get over it….hmmmm…. You are very perceptive…he may have a flashing temper, but usually those sorts are also quick to retreat….at least sometimes. They are also the quickest to commit murder, and do strange things in the heat of the moment…but we won't think about that right now will we…..
As for being a witch…whichever witch makes you happy! LOL! I have seen, I think, one episode of 'Charmed' but that was years ago when Shannon was still on the show. As if people do not think that I am odd enough already, I have to tell you that I don't even have any sort of television in my house. I mean I have the equipment, but no cable, no regular stations, nothing. It is an old brick house, and even with rabbit ears I cannot get a station. Since I am not home very often, I don't see the sense in paying for cable TV. So, when I am home and have time on my hands, I read or watch movies….yes, I am a crazy woman!
As for Shakespeare, I do love what he writes, though I have to confess until I'd read a few of his works, and became familiar with the style and language, it was a bit confusing. He was a brilliant, if not troubled man. Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong century…there is so much about the past that I love…
Nordygirl: I must confess it has been a few years since I saw 'West Side Story' on stage, but I do remember the song you refer to. Quite creative you are! I look forward to the next one. Oh, I love 'Sound of Music'!
You might recall that Christine used the keys trying to get into that drawer because she was curious as to why it was locked and why Erik hadn't told her about it since he'd obviously showed her every other hidden thing in the house. Thankfully, she'd never gotten the drawer open…she might have felt very differently about forgiving Erik's past so quickly if she had.
Faeriecatcher1: Thank you for your comments! I am happy for Raoul and Meg too. Their relationship is so different from Christine and Erik's, as it should be, but I want them to be happy too. Though I do worry what will happen to the two of them should Raoul ever find the secret that Meg has been hiding from him….let's hope that snow outside doesn't melt too fast!
Yes Crawlings…that family has become such a nuisance…the scourge of society really. They have caused heartache with so many families…but this time….they may have just picked the wrong family to hunt….