Pyotr and Sebastian had grown quite weary of staying in their room. They'd taken every meal there since they'd stayed at the Inn; the dining room being far too public for their tastes. They'd written every bit of correspondence they could. They devised in their minds a way to retrieve all manner of goods from the house on the day of the celebration in Chauesser, for surely, in light of the most recent events, the family would be most decidedly attending. It would take them but several hours to remove all the things they'd stowed in the carriage house.
Pyotr was grateful that the last shipment had been refused before the family had arrived. They'd set out for the other farm as soon as the weather cleared in order to do so. Sitting in that room, for all those hours on end, would have driven even the most sensible man quite mad. Now all that was left to be done was to wait. Wait until the 10th of next month, yes the tenth day of April.
"What is it about that day, why that day, out of all others during the year, and so many more during favorable weather, why do they celebrate that day?" Pyotr said to Sebastian. "No battles were won on that day, no great victories, no death of a king, nor birth of any royalty. What is it that causes that day to be one honored by this inconsequential little village?"
"Now Pyotr, we do not have to understand why, we need only to know of the celebration, and the hours to which the family will be gone and nothing more. It will be of little use to us to know any more. It is not our celebration of whatever events it represents. It is a celebration for us to know that the day exists, and it is quite opportune for our purposes. What they celebrate and why is of little matter to us."
Pyotr was nodding, "of course, of course, but this infernal waiting, and wondering. I tell you if this is not the last season we spend in this village, I shall have want to pull each and every hair from its home in my scalp!"
Sebastian laughed, "come now my friend, it is not all that bad. We've a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, plenty of ale at our disposal. Waiting could be far worse."
Pyotr was nodding as he walked to the window once more looking out. "I just wish it were fully spring and we were on our way back to Paris. Yes, I'd be much happier if we were on our way there even now." He let the curtain drop from his hand. The landscape hadn't changed. Not even one footstep outside the Inn to disturb the snow crust that had been formed there.
XXXXXXX
Courtland Manor was coming to life. The volume of snow had been rapidly diminishing with the warming air. One could nearly sit and watch hour by hour as the snow descended further and further toward the earth that lay beneath it. The warm salt breezes had already started to waft over the drifts on the beaches, the sand visible in places. Yes, there was still a chill hovering, but there was a warm breeze making its way inland, and soon it would be spring once more.
The man had gone to the stable, leading the foal out into the small area that he'd cleared for the purpose. The mother closely behind watching with keen eyes as the man carefully fitted the foal with bit and bridle, and a thick horse blanket thrown over its back. It was all done for the horse's comfort. If it knew from the first that it existed, that the man were in charge, the struggle with saddle and then rider later on would be much easier.
The woman watched from the house smiling. Surely Monsieur Courtland would be pleased. She'd tidied the house to every corner. With no one about to make messes of such things, it was very easy indeed to care for. She'd spent quite a little time reading as of late, and even more on her needlework. There was truly not much more to do…until the family came home once more.
Her thoughts wandered to Sara. She felt a certain degree of guilt for never having properly befriended the woman. She could do little about it now. She hoped that the woman had found her final disposition wherever she found herself now.
XXXXX
Misty had bundled up. The morning had arrived, it was time to go into Chauesser to do as had been requested of her by Monsieur Courtland. She'd see to the funds at the undertaker and travel no further.
She'd selected one, rather young, rather impertinent young man from the carriage house. He could be trusted, she knew, for he'd been a faithful friend since first she'd come to the service of Monsieur Courtland, but he was an incorrigible chatter box. There wouldn't be even a moments peace on the trip neither to nor from Chauesser. Yes, he would be good company, but once in the City, she would have to no doubt remind him repeatedly that they were there for one purpose and one only, a visit did not mean he would be at his leisure to talk to everyone he encountered. Yes, she'd have need to remind him repeatedly.
They'd not have the benefit of a sleigh for their travels, nay, they would in fact be traveling as light as they could, on the smallest horses. Over the drifts and through the gullies. Truly it wasn't a long journey, though they'd both dressed as if it would take hours for they'd really had no idea how many hours they'd spend on their venture.
It wasn't long and they were on their way. The sun had now risen into the awakening sky. Today would be a much warmer day than they'd had in over a week, and Misty was glad to be out of doors to take in the enjoyment of it rather than huddled up in the house consumed by mundane housework.
There had been the inevitable questions, and protestations from the remaining staff in the household, but Misty had been quite strong, and quite insistent that she was on orders from their employer, and the lot of them best not cause quarrel over it or they'd have Monsieur Courtland to deal with upon his return. It was not her normal countenance to treat others with such seemingly ill regard, but she'd felt most compelled as she feared they would try to dissuade them.
In but a few minutes they'd put Courtland Manor behind them and nothing but the open fields and trees lay before them. Chauesser would be a site for sore eyes as far as Misty was concerned, even if she'd have to avoid the vast majority of it. Just being there, being on assignment for the master of her household, was exhilarating.
"Come, come. We've no time to waste here young man." She glanced back at the boy who trailed just slightly behind her.
He looked at her briefly shaking his head. She was no more than a year his senior, yet she behaved as if she were the lady of the house…he shook his head again. He'd say nothing of it. He was simply thankful for the opportunity to do something, anything rather than sort through the contents of the carriage house as Erphan had instructed before they'd departed the night previous. There was nothing of any great interest as far as he was concerned. He'd only found box upon box of old books, and ugly paintings, and a few small trunks that were locked. He'd had half a mind to use them all for a fire when they returned, for surely they were nothing more than junk and trinkets.
XXXXX
The sleigh headed off from the house on the hill, the City of Chauesser its destination. Lady C still slumbered, all of her staff knowingly keeping the house as quiet as they could, had carefully shut all doors between her suite and the kitchens so as to provide as much barrier to the bustling goings on in those rooms. The pantry had been pulled apart, all sorts of candy molds were being cleaned and readied. If they were going to go to the work of making the candies for the gift she'd intended to bestow on the hero's wife, then they'd thought themselves to be quite wise in making a rather large batch, in preparation for the celebration that was now a mere few weeks away.
They rather looked forward to it each year. Most days and months found the house quiet and reflective, save the hours each day that their mistress played her piano. That was something they enjoyed with great pleasure.
She was a beautiful pianist, truly beautiful. It was essentially the only time they thought the woman to be happy…when she laid her hands on those ivory keys. Her other hours were spent replying to letters sent to her from the citizen's of Chauesser, or reading from her vast collection of books. What was pitiful in their minds, were the hours each day she spent just blankly staring out the large window in the parlor at the City below. It was as if she was waiting for someone to come home….a someone who never existed at all. They'd spoken of it only in the deepest privacy of their quarters, far from any chance their words might be overheard. What would make such a lovely woman refuse every would-be suitor? What painful thing had she endured that led to such a choice of self-imposed solitude and singularity? They knew not….nor did they have any hope that they ever would.
They'd wait on the return of Andre. He would carry with him the essential ingredients, the pure vanilla from Spain, the Dutch cocoa powders, the caned sugar in large quantities, the finest hazelnuts, and shelled pistachios. The butter was already being busily made in the creamery outside. The cheeses had been aging in the caves beneath the house for nearly two months now. The meats were curing in the smokehouse. Indeed, there was much in way of preparation for this celebration.
They'd sent off to Paris not a week before the storm to all the finest purveyors for the items they'd be needing. The next week, with all good fortune, carriage after carriage would arrive with all the remaining items that simply could not be found in a city the size of Chauesser. The mercantile had been given strict instructions, and had dispatched the couriers to Paris on their behalf. Yes, the house would be bustling for several weeks before it would once again settle into the long wait of summer, until the holidays of the next winter arrived once more providing opportunity and cause for celebration.
The head cook turned abruptly from her recipe book as the door at the rear entrance opened and closed quickly. She looked on as Andre came in, moving rather in earnest up the stairs without so much as a greeting. A hush fell on the staff. Whatever had caused him to return? They all rushed over to the window. The sleigh was outside, quite ready and waiting. They all turned as he came back down the stairs, tipping his hat to them as he moved through the kitchen and out the door once more. They watched as he mounted the sleigh and set forth to the City again.
Andre was tucking the envelope neatly beneath his cloak into his breast pocket. How very imprudent of him, and what cause for delay. The most important part of his journey into the City and he'd left the envelope behind. He only hoped that his timing would not be such that he'd find himself at the mercantile at an inopportune time.
He glanced at his pocket watch He'd hoped to be there before it had opened, taking delivery without notice of the general public. He shook his head. No, now he would have to make his way to the undertaker first….for surely the man would be taking in an early lunch as was his fashion. He'd want to be well ahead of that for he'd need to make certain all of Lady C's instructions were followed. Yes, the man had seen to her final expenses, true, but she'd no doubt that he would permit her to bury the woman in the cemetery in the plot that had been reserved for her some time before. She'd want to see to it being done well in advance of the celebration, for she'd not want that event to cloud the festivities.
Yes, he'd rather hoped he'd be able to slip in and out of the undertaker's without delay. He'd a long journey ahead of him to the man's house and then once more to the mercantile. He pulled his hat down round his ears. Though the sleigh provided shelter, there was still a chill.
Perhaps he'd have time for one cup of coffee at the Inn, yes just one…he'd want to check on the woman's daughter and granddaughter. Though it had not been ordered specifically, it was always a gesture that Lady C extended to every family who lost a loved one. There would be the bestowing of her condolences, and offer of assistance of any kind that might be needed. For Lady C was nothing if not a most benevolent woman. Yes, a quick cup of coffee, killing two birds with one stone.
He glanced out the window at the back of the sleigh as it descended the first hill. It would be a full day, it was certain. He smoothed his hand over the pocket that contained the envelopes. A good day indeed.
XXXXX
Madeline wearily climbed the stairs, carrying a tray of tea and preserve filled biscuits to Madame Giry's quarters. She'd fitted it with two cups and a pair of plates. When first she'd looked in on the woman, Nadir had been visiting. She only hoped now that the duo were still there lest she have to return to the kitchens to prepare a second tray. She'd have many deliveries to make, since none had decided to rise and come to the dining room for breakfast. A tray for DeChagny, one for Miss Meg, one for Raoul…if he were feeling so inclined to have breakfast. The doctor at least had already had a bit of breakfast. He'd been the most fortunate, for the biscuits truly were best consumed fresh from the oven when the fruits and sugars were at the peak of their perfection, and the biscuit just baked to a golden brown, not having yet had opportunity to lose height and settle down over the piping filling. Yes, they'd still be pleasant, but nothing compared to consuming something at the precise moment of perfection. She smiled as she rapped lightly on the door to Madame Giry's room.
"Do come in Madeline," Madame Giry called out. She and Nadir watched as Madeline came in carrying the tray to the small table that sat between them by the window at the back of the room. They'd been sitting there taking in full appreciation of the sun as it rose behind and eventually above the tree line. The sky was a morning lark blue, full of scant puffy clouds that added a bit of playful whimsy.
"Thank you Madeline," Madame Giry said as she sat the tray down between them. Madame Giry looked up at the normally well kept woman, reaching out to touch her arm. "My dear lady, have you not slept?"
Madeline looked at her rather startled. "My apology," she said as she smoothed her hands over her hair, straightening her apron.
"No, no, Madeline, that is not at all what I meant. You look tired dear. No doubt you've been up tending to the needs of everyone. You must find some rest lest you fall ill."
Madeline stood looking down, waiting to be dismissed.
Madame Giry stood, nodding at Nadir, who nodded in return. She reached out, slipping her arm beneath Madeline's. "Come, let's you and I have a walk to the kitchen. You've a great many young helpers that should relieve you of your morning duties. They no doubt have had a full evening's rest, and you…."
Nadir listened as he heard her voice trail off behind the closed door to the hallway. There she was again…taking care of others…it was simply in her nature. He smiled, he'd had half a mind to tell her to go to bed himself, though Madame Giry's method was much softer and likely garnered a better chance of success.
He lifted the plate of biscuits into his hands. This was a treat he would most miss when he left Raoul's house. He'd not had them prepared anywhere that were more delicious.
He sighed. He hoped that word from Erik would soon arrive. He'd rather hoped for a visit, though he'd quickly dismissed that realizing the circumstances had not permitted it. Now the best he could hope for was a note. A NOTE!
He rose, sitting his coffee cup down on the tray. Perhaps Erik had left something in his room…how careless of him…of course….that is what Erik would have done! He could only hope now that precious hours had not been lost due to his inattentiveness!
Nadir passed quickly through the small hallway and into his room. He searched with wanton eyes the table next to his bed, beneath his pillow, under the bed, the table by the window. Nothing. He walked to the window. It had been fastened shut. Perhaps he'd tucked the note in the frame of the window; that search too ended in vain.
He sighed, passing through the corridor back to Madame Giry's room rather disappointedly. What had it been that would have caused Erik to venture to Raoul's? His mind had tortured him with all manner of possibility. Had something happened to Christine? Had their worst fear fallen upon them….had that beast found them? He shuddered at the thought. Had Crawlings been chased by Erik from Chauesser….no, he knew that hadn't been the case for he'd not recognized the mount that Erik rode, though he'd only had a casual glance at it, he was certain it was not from his stable. Whatever it had been, it no doubt was serious or Erik would never have left Christine unattended.
He would have no choice to wait now. Wait for word….in whatever form it came. He resettled himself in the chair in Madame Giry's room, lifting his coffee cup and saucer. So very much swirled through his mind. Would there ever be resolution? It seemed the longer he was in this new world of Erik's, the more complex and wholly complicated it became. His mind whirled. Was DeChagny father to both Erik and Raoul? Was the elder disturbed woman in Chauesser Erik's mother? Would Meg's future contain a proposal of marriage from Raoul? Would Christine deliver her children safely? How would Erik deal with the knowledge that he had saved Raoul's life? Would Sara's accounts ever find settlement? How ever would he find her children? Would Christine and Meg be parted forever? What would Raoul do if Christine were discovered, or if he discovered the secret that she, Madame Giry, and he had kept from him….that Christine was indeed alive, and married….to the Phantom!
Nadir was shaking his head. It was all nearly too much to be real, to be true. There were no simple solutions to any of the questions he posed, for truly one laid heavy dependence on another; some having power to make all others moot. The strongest of which…if the pair were indeed they, should they ever know of it….or would it make their lives far too unbearable to live…..and what of the woman that they both loved? No, it was far too complex to reason out. It would all be decided by fate, and he….he was but a pawn in this elaborate production. Fate would do with him whatever it willed.
He set the cup down staring longingly at the door. "To love and be loved just once more….is that too much to ask?" he said under his breath as he closed his eyes, lowering his weary head.
Just then the door opened, Madame Giry's cheery face turned toward him as she walked over and joined him in the chair across. Her skin looked dewy, no doubt from the steaming pots that were in the kitchen. Nadir could smell the essence of some wonderful concoction on her garments.
"All is well. I must say she is a rather strong willed woman. She barely agreed to retire! She said she'd far too much to do to take time to sleep. It took some cajoling and assurances by the rest of the staff who'd been grateful for the rest she'd provided them by tending to all manner of things during the night. Finally the dear woman relented when they reminded her that she'd be the one preparing the standing rib roast for the late dinner that evening that Raoul had requested. He never permitted another soul but Madeline to prepare it, for he said that hers was the best" Madame Giry laughed as she took up her cup, supping from the cooled brew. "It sounds just what Raoul would say doesn't it?" She said glancing over at Nadir. She tilted her head in question. "Whatever is it?"
Nadir was staring at her, and had begun to smile unreservedly. "You are a most beautiful woman Madame Giry. I consider it an honor in having made your acquaintance."
Madame Giry lowered her head, a blush taking over her cheeks as she set cup and saucer back on the tray. She reached out taking the linen napkin laying it daintily over her lap, as she lifted the plate of biscuits. She simply could not look up. "The honor is mine sir. To meet the man that Erik spoke often of, though not by name…you were his most trusted friend."
The pair sat staring down at their plates. Silence had become their friend. When words could not express what they felt, silence seemed to intervene.
XXXXXXX
Erik held Christine in his arms by the fire. They'd listened as the door had opened and closed several more times before they were certain that the trio were off for the morning. Erik had been wrapping and unwrapping a singular curl of Christine's hair around the index finger of his right hand. They'd chatted of pleasantries, but little else. Most of what they'd have need to discuss was more private than any ears dared to hear just now, and they'd not be taking any chances. They'd talked of their dear departed friend Sara, of the Opera House reopening, of snow and the depths neither had ever witnessed in their lifetime.
The pair fell silent. A temporary lull in their conversation. Christine would be patient…Erik would begin when he was ready. Though question upon question raged in her mind, she'd allow him this courtesy. Erik's hand continued to run up and down Christine's shoulder, tenderly rubbing at the tightness in them. It was truly mesmerizing.
She closed her eyes, and though she'd intended to let him speak first, something in her stirred recalling the first time she'd fallen under the spell of his touch.
"Do you remember Erik, when we were at the top of the bridge?"
Erik turned his head, leaning Christine's back into his chest, kissing her temple. "We've covered much ground together my dear, of which bridge do you speak?"
She turned herself round in his arms beneath the covers, looking up into his eyes; they were riveting. She leaned in kissing his neck. Erik shuddered, though not from the cold. Christine leaned back looking once more at his face. She ran her hand along his jaw, up to his temple, pushing back the onyx strands of hair that had strayed into his face. She slid her hand around his head, to the back of his neck and then to his cheek.
Erik turned his head into her hand, kissing the center of her palm. He looked at her with such wonder. Each time he gazed upon her he thought he saw something new in her eyes.
She ran her hand once more down his neck, it coming to rest on the center of his chest. "You are warm my dear," Christine said leaning forward to kiss the place where her hand had rested.
Erik smiled at her. "Christine?"
She looked back into his eyes. "The bridge during Don Juan…do you remember when first you embraced me?"
Erik's eyes began to glaze over…he'd remember it until his dying day. "Yes my love….I do." Reaching up behind her neck he gently drew her to him. "Why is it that you ask this of me now?"
Christine nestled her head into the broad expanse of his embrace. "Did you know then…did you know then what I would do?"
Erik swallowed. He'd known what he'd thought then….but he'd never expected to be asked of it. He thought for a moment. "I knew you would follow your heart." He said, kissing her forehead. That was entirely true, though he'd not been certain where her heart would lead her.
"But did you know, beyond a shadow of all doubt, did you know we would be together forever?" Christine asked, turning her face toward his.
Erik looked down at her face full of innocent wonder. He swallowed again. Though it pained him to admit it, he would be honest. "My dear, dear, Christine, mon cheri. My heart was filled with hope. It longed for it to be true, my body pleaded for it. It was my mind that doubted. The rational man that doubted that one so lovely, so angelic, so pure, would choose a creature such as me over a life of comfort and nobility."
Christine grew quiet. Erik worried that he'd somehow said something that had displeased her. Just when he'd thought he'd apologize, she turned, sitting up on her knees. Her head now hanging just slightly above his. She looked down into his eyes, taking his hand laying it on her collarbone. "My love I knew….I knew from the moment you laid your hands on me, so strong, so confident, so assured." She smiled at him. He looking up into her pleading eyes. "I knew from when you first touched me Erik. I knew I shan't ever love another in all of the world as I had loved you."
A tear ran down his cheek, he blinked, looking away briefly before looking back into her eyes.
"And each time you lay your hands upon me, I am reassured all over again, that our love is at is should be, that in all of the world there was no more perfect match for me than you, and you for me." She kissed him tenderly on the lips, whispering into his ear. "My love, I am yours and you are mine, let us find ourselves reunited in mind, spirit…and body."
Erik could take it no longer. He slid his arms about her waist, carefully, gently turning her around bringing her to rest next to him. "Christine," he said, looking down at her, "I've so very much to tell you…"
She reached her hand up behind his neck, pulling his cheek to hers, whispering into his ear, "love me Erik….love me." He looked into her eyes, once more in the glow of the fire, the colors of the room swirling in his mind…yes…memory by memory…she was erasing his past….
Dear Faithfuls: Alas, the Friday trip did not turn out to be, but I will be gone once again next Monday. No updates until Tuesday! Have a wonderful weekend….and everyone get a head start on their holiday shopping!