Chapter 171 Striking Memories, Shivers, and Deals

"That's twenty four, here's twenty five, there's twenty-six…that has to be it! It's right under the tree there!" The one grave digger said, feeling rather triumphant.

"But that's right on the edge…a good shift of land and the casket will go tumbling down onto the rocks below!" The one said looking in astonishment at the other man who was already starting to move the snow with his shovel.

"Good sir, if there's a shift great enough to move that casket out of the ground and down the hill, I shan't think it would be the greatest of our worries! Besides, you received the same instructions from Perdue…it must be done today!"

He grimaced as his shovel met with somewhat firmer ground beneath the snow. He pushed it into the earth, jumping up on both sides of the metal as it slid into the dirt below. "The surface is firm, but the ground beneath gives way quite easily," he said nodding toward the other man's shovel. "If we've this done before lunch, perhaps you and I can go to the tavern for an ale!"

The other man returned his sentiment with vigor. He shook his head as he joined the first. Whatever would have caused someone to buy such a pitiful piece of land to be buried on….surely he knew not.

XXXXX

The woman sat up in bed. She knew it must be morning for a slight shaft of light was peeking beneath the heavy curtains that had been pulled over the windows no doubt to aid her to slumber. She brought herself to a seated position, leaning against the head of the bed. She'd pulled the covers from her chest, down to her waist, she was warm…far too warm. She ran her hands up over her shoulders, around her neck, and then swept her dampened hair up into her hands, laying it carefully over the backboard, thus allowing for the flesh of her neck to cool.

She felt worn and wasted. She'd not had that dream in years, and it drained everything out of her. A gentle, staggered sob rose from her chest; she quickly quelled it lest her tears return. She sighed as memories washed over her now conscious thought. It had been that very act, the events of that very night that had been the beginning of her end. Though she felt as if her very life left her that day, it would take decade upon decade for her body to die joining a spirit that had surely taken leave of the flesh some years before. She tilted her head back, sighing, leaning heavily against the wall. She ran her hands in semi-circles over the rounds of her cheeks and the depth of her eyes. Oh how she wished she could erase those memories…for what good purpose did she cling to them? As each day passed, they became of less and less use to her. She sighed again; each breath somehow easing her mind back into he present reality. Though she'd tried to get on with her life, she simply could not. The memory of what might have been was the only thing that now kept her tethered to this world.

Her mind wandered back to a time when all was seemingly right with the world. Her eyes closed, she could see him…handsome and strong, telling her of the life they could have in one another's company…in Paris…the parties….the home…the family….the love. Her lips quivered. Oh if she could take anything back…she would take back her final refusal….the last time she'd seen him… "Marry me Claire…marry me…let us abandon all the wealth of this world if it must be so…for what will all of it mean if we're not to know true love again in our lives?" She'd walked away from him…he had begun to cry. It was that last glance back over her shoulder she would never forget…he stood there tall, as handsome as she'd ever seen him, but a brokenness in his eye that she could nearly not bear… "I love you, I shall always love you" he'd said.

Her hand flew to her face…it was so long ago, why did she torture herself so? "No…STOP!" She said to herself disgustedly. Her own weakness of mind adding agitation to her already aching heart.

She shook her head, bringing her feet over to the edge of the bed as she swung her legs down. She tugged at the night clothes that were tangled beneath her. Before she'd given much thought of it, she was out of bed, shuffling over to the window.

Her eyes squinted heavily as she pushed the curtain aside. The sun was as bright as any Spring day, but its luminosity was intensified by the layer of snow that still lay stubbornly on the ground. Slowly she began to blink, allowing her eyes to adjust to the intensity of the light which they'd been deprived of. A few moments of painful blinking and tearing, and dabbing at her eyes and she could narrowly focus on the out-of-doors as long as her hand rested above her brow guarding it from the harshest rays.

She glanced skyward, it was a beautiful blue. She saw cardinals in the trees that lay just outside her window pecking in fervor at the suet ball that had been rolled in seeds and hung there for her enjoyment. This particular view showed nothing but cove and forest. It was so very peaceful.

The tears in her eyes caused by the brilliant sun soon gave way to the tears that rose from her heart. She rested her palm against the chilled window pane. The warmth of her hand causing a steamed impression of her palm and fingers to form on the glass. She leaned her head forward, her shoulders shaking, her head turning down as a sob rose in her chest. Through the staggered breaths she uttered in near silence, "my son, my love, wherever life now finds you, know that I shall love you to my dying breath! May God be merciful on your souls, and may fate see fit to bring you every manner of happiness in this moment."

She turned away from the window, drying her eyes. It was time to dress, time to take care of the business there was to be done in preparation for her visit to the newest man in the City, one whose acquaintance she was hopeful to favorably make.

XXXX

DeChagny jerked awake. He was looking this way and that in the room. A sudden shiver running down his spine. He rubbed at his eyes, his heart was thumping. He'd not known what woke him, but it had sat him straight up from a dead sleep.

He rested both hands on the side of the bed as he dangled his feet from the edge. He was shaking his head. He'd not had a normal pattern of sleep in weeks. It was no wonder his body shan't know how to react to all his risings and restings. He sighed heavily. No doubt it was morning, perhaps even late morning now, and he had to say he was feeling a bit of hunger. He turned his head as there was a rather faint but insistent knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, hoping it to be either the doctor with news of Raoul's condition, or Madeline with a pot of coffee and some pastry.

A slender young woman, head bowed low so as to avoid eye-contact with the man, came in carrying a tray. From a distance he could see something steaming from it, though his focus was not yet clear. "Monsieur," she said curtseying politely before she turned to leave.

"Young miss, what of Madeline?" He called out to her. Personal service such as this was always within Madeline's realm.

"Monsieur, I'm afraid she's resting now, something about having been up all night." She smiled and departed.

DeChagny slipped from the side of the bed, donning his slippers as he shuffled over to the chair before the table. He wondered if all others had risen for breakfast, and if they had, why he'd not been retrieved. As he came to the tray he smiled. It was indeed a press of strong coffee he could tell, and a silver dome covering a china plate. A domed cover meant something savory and warm….just what he needed at that precise moment. He settled himself into the chair, taking the napkin on his lap. Lifting the dome, a bit of steam rose from its contents now uncovered. A poached egg, several biscuits, and a generous slice of ham; how wonderful. He began searching the tray for some preserves when he noticed the small folded white bunch of paper that lay just off to the side of his demitasse. He put down his fork and knife. "Whatever could this be?" He opened it, and began to read.

XXXXXXXXXX

Meg woke, gently stretching under the silken covers, gazing up at the delicate layers of fine silk that covered the canopy above her. She lay entirely outstretched, as her mind and body began to wake. She'd thought she'd heard the door to her room close, but saw no one; surely it had been her imagination.

As she yawned, a faint reminder of the events of the night previous gave her a painful prickle on her cheek. Her hand rose to cover it. She sighed. At last the stitches were gone, and there was nothing more to do, save continuing with the application of salve several times each day. She yawned again, this time holding her cheek in place. She felt amazingly rested, perhaps more so than she had in days.

She closed her eyes, exhaling. She'd made it her first night without Raoul in her room to guard her…she'd made it without incident. Turning her head, she looked at the small table that lay next to the bed. She'd had some assistance of course from the pill that the doctor had asked her to take for the discomfort of removing the stitches.

Meg sat up, looking over at the window. She could see hints of light around the edges of the heavy fabric that covered it. She wondered why none had come to wake her, especially her mother, but perhaps the doctor had instructed them to allow her to rest. She had to admit, waking up entirely when one is ready, instead of being roused from your slumber by duty or tradition, was an entirely enjoyable thing!

She slipped from the bed, pulling on her robe as she made her way over to the window. She pushed back the heavy drapery and squinted at the bright sun that shone through the room. It made all of the crystal finery in the room come to life, as if a hundred stars now danced in the room behind her; it was breathtaking.

She pushed the curtain behind the hook so as to allow the sun to flood the room. Turning back to gaze upon it she noticed a tray sitting in front of the fireplace. Moving slowly over to it, she took note of all the magnificent details of such a well appointed room. Never in all of her exorbitant dreams, had she ever imagined she'd be surrounded by such fine things, least of all in a house that perhaps one day would be her own.

Once arrived at the divan sitting in front of the fireplace, she came to rest upon it, placing her hand alongside the small coffee press that lay on the tray, it was still quite nearly hot! Her eyes roamed the tray; it held a silver domed plate. She smiled, lifting the lid, the steamy scent-laden vapor greeting her nose before she could even behold the contents. It was a dish of steaming potted fruits, several biscuits and a petite sliver of ham. The very scent of it made her mouth water. She readied herself, napkin in her lap, coffee poured in her cup, utensils in hand. She lowered her head offering up a simple prayer. She'd been mildly hungry when she'd retired the last evening, and this was a welcome treat.

Surely everyone else had risen for breakfast at a more suitable hour, she thought as she took her first bites. They were utterly wonderful. She took bite after bite, sipping in between from her coffee cup. Raoul's household was rather fond of strong coffee, and she herself was growing rather accustomed to it. She'd finish her breakfast, freshen up, and dress for the day. For the first time in as many as she could recall since she'd arrive at DeChagny Manor, she felt ready to greet the day, to make herself useful in some way…now if only Raoul would allow it.

XXXXX

The doctor slipped his pocket watch from his trousers. It was half-past nine. He glanced over at the empty cup that he'd brought with him from the coffee he'd consumed with the biscuit Madeline had given him hours ago. How he wished he'd have another hot cup. He glanced over at the bed. Raoul had barely moved all night. The medicine he'd given him for his comfort had made him nearly immobile. It was good for his healing. The doctor had come and gone several times, making certain that Raoul, in his slumber had not tugged nor scratched at the stitches in his scalp. Now he simply sat in the room, hoping to be there for him when he finally woke. There would be much to speak of, and he'd not want any interference.

He hoped that Raoul would not mind that a small swath of hair had been removed in order to suture his gaping gash. A few months of growth and it would be barely noticeable. For the time being he would have to wear it drawn back if he did not want the attention for it. Raoul was face down in his pillow, and it would seem he'd barely moved a muscle since he'd been helped there.

The doctor stretched, glancing now over at the divan, and then at the door. When he'd arrived in Raoul's room hours before, he'd pulled a simple blanket over himself as he reclined ever-so-slightly in the rather large chair. Now he grew stiff and rather weary, and wondered if Raoul might sleep another few hours, perhaps he should recline on the divan.

His contemplations were interrupted as he heard a small rap on the door, and a young lady entered without invitation. She walked in without a word over to the doctor, filling his cup and handing it back to him. She leaned over whispering in his ear. "Madeline did not say if she'd yet fed you breakfast Barron. Would you prefer that I bring a tray for you here, or would you like to.."

The doctor replied before she finished, "a bit of breakfast would be lovely," he glanced over at Raoul, "and I think I should like to take it here. Do be a dear and bring a second cup with you when you return, in case your master stirs."

He touched the young woman's forearm. She nodded and departed. Though he'd have preferred a hot bath and his own comfortable bed, he'd no want to leave Raoul's side; he was worried for him. The physical injury, the hallucinations, the death of the boy…they would all have to be addressed straight away. He pulled the blanket back up around his shoulders, tilting his head back ever so slightly into the corner of the chair. No, it wasn't the most comfortable, but it would suffice for now. He feared if he reclined any further, he'd be off into a deep sleep, being of little good if Raoul stirred.

XXXXX

Misty and Thomas were eagerly covering the last distance on their return to the winter house. She'd decided it made little sense to dispatch a courier to Paris to send a message to Stephan for she truly wouldn't have known where to send one. Erphan had told her they'd likely be back on the morrow, which would still allow for their preparation for Lady C's arrival.

The remainder of the house would be set in order by the staff, an appropriate high tea prepared. She had half a mind to send someone to Courtland Manor to retrieve another set of more formal dishes, but then she'd dismissed the idea. The pattern at the winter house was lovely, and though it had become been rather common place to those who lived there, they would still be elegant enough for a proper tea. She'd already been thinking of the menu, and of what needed to be tended in the parlor. They would work into the wee hours of the morning if they had need to so as to put things in order for the visit.

She glanced over at Thomas. He had proven to be a most gentile companion. He'd neither spouted gibberish, nor acted inappropriately, nor begged to travel into the City further. She slowed her horse just slightly allowing his to come along side.

"I would like to extend to you my sincere gratitude for tending to Monsieur Courtland's private matters with me this day in Chauesser. I know that he will be exceedingly pleased with you Thomas."

He smiled at her. "You are most welcome Misty."

"Do tell dear friend, you are normally as wiggly as a butterfly escaping his cocoon, and chatter as a squirrel guarding its tree hollow. Yet today finds you a most quiet and docile man. Are you not feeling well?" She said with certain concern in her voice.

Thomas smiled at her and looked down. "It is Erphan."

Misty looked at him with question, a slight laugh, and a playful furrow in her brow. "Erphan? Whatever does this have to do with Erphan?"

Thomas was blushing just slightly. "You see…Erphan told us of how Stephan had rewarded his obedience. We've all been speaking of it, the stable hands and I." He paused looking out toward the house as they approached it. "If he was willing to take note of Erphan…perhaps he would look upon me with favor if he finds that I too can be trustworthy."

Misty smiled at him. Truly that would make Monsieur genuinely pleased. "You are most wise Thomas. I shall be certain to tell him of your cooperation."

The pair dismounted their horses, Thomas leading them back to the stable. Misty went straightaway into the kitchen. She'd find the head cook and gather the others. If all was to be made ready, they would need every hand in the house, and likely those in the stable to help them.

XXXXXXX

The young doctor walked down the dark wood paneled hall to the room at the end. He wondered to himself how many times his own grandfather had walked those very same halls saving lives, offering condolences. He gently rapped on the door, waiting for an invitation. If he heard none he would allow the women to rest.

A faint voice came from behind the door, "do come in." Nicole turned back to her mother. She'd finished brushing her hair and was now braiding it.

The doctor came in closing the door behind him. "I'd thought perhaps that this morning would find the two of you still resting." He glanced over at the bowl of soup and the coffee that he'd brought Nicole earlier. He smiled; she had finished it all. "How are we feeling this morning?" He said walking over sitting his bag on the table by the fireplace and walking over to the vanity next to where Nicole's mother sat.

Nicole thought. There was always the pleasant, most expected reply…the one you exchange with strangers, or those with whom you'd not have want to share anything too personal. Somehow that did not seem fair, nor appropriate with a man who'd offered so much to them. "We are a bit tired, that is certain." Nicole said, putting the ribbon at the bottom of her mother's braid.

"No doubt you will be for several days more. The exposure to such cold…and all that followed it…would be a drain on anyone." He said as he pulled up a chair. He had learned so much in school, not the least of which was the fine art of assessing one's patient by just observing them. It was much less intrusive, and far easier to gain honest answers. One cannot easily conceal labored breathing, nor winces from pain, nor hunched shoulders, nor furrowed brow. He was scanning them with his eyes, assessing them with his mind.

"Doctor do tell, since we are all here together now, quite in the privacy of these quarters…how much time…how much time do we have together?" Nicole's mother inquired with sincerity.

Nicole's eyes grew heavy. She dropped her hands to her side, the brush hanging in one hand.

The doctor glanced at Nicole. He rose first pulling the bench he'd been sitting on closer to her mother. Then taking Nicole's hand, he led her to sit next to him on the bench next to him. He glanced back and forth between the women. He reached out taking Nicole's hand, and then her mother's.

Nicole was blushing heavily, and though tears were freely flowing down her cheeks, she felt no need to hide them. She took her mother's hand in hers.

The trio sat in a triangle looking at one another before the doctor began. "My dear lady, Nicole, much depends on how one cares for themselves." He looked at Nicole's mother. "I've mentioned to Nicole that you have done exceedingly well my dear lady. Many I've seen never managed to have nor raise a child of their own. In a great many respects, you've done exceedingly better than anyone could have anticipated." Tears were welling in the woman's eyes. "You've a bit of a fighter in you, which bodes well for you. No doubt it is what has carried you thus far."

He turned to look at Nicole then returned his focus on the woman. "I shall be frank, as I know that you do not wish for anything but the truth. In all I have seen, and I've seen a number of them, I would say you've the summer, but no more."

The woman looked at him with stony eyes. She'd be strong for Nicole's sake. "And the best you've ever seen…the one you've seen that has lived the longest?"

The doctor looked down at the ground, he knew what she was hoping to hear, but the truth was the truth. "My dear lady….that would be you."

Nicole squeezed her mother's hand. "Mother, we shall do our best hmmm?" She glanced at the doctor. "Sir…" she stammered, "I am sorry, I do not even know your name.."

The doctor smiled at her, "of course Nicole, in all of this confusion, forgive me, I'd not properly introduced myself. My name is John Paul Perdue."

Nicole blinked, nodding in acknowledgement. "John Paul, I've carefully considered your most generous offer to assist my mother and I in exchange for…I suppose you would say all manner of information regarding the citizens of Chauesser. I should like very much to kindly accept it…with a few minor conditions if I might."

The doctor looked at her, a bit confused by her statement. "Conditions?"

Nicole nodded her head. "You see sir, what information I would give you, I would have done so without need of exchange, for you have come to be a most trusted friend. If I am to accept such assistance from you…I've need for my own worth, to provide much more for you than mere knowledge. Please agree to allow me to look after your house for you, do your laundry, prepare meals for you. Set up your household. It has been a long while since the house was tended, I'm certain that not so since your grandfather's passing."

The doctor was about to protest, but Nicole interrupted.

"I know as a young bachelor you've probably managed the art of cooking, and tending a house for yourself is no doubt a fairly easy chore…but I have been doing this all of my life, and am quite skilled at it, if I may say so humbly. If you would agree to those terms, than I shall most heartily agree to accept the help you have offered for my mother."

Nicole's mother's eyes darted back and forth between the doctor and Nicole. She glanced down taking notice that he was stroking Nicole's hand with his thumb. A fleeting grin traveled her face, and then was gone.

The doctor looked down, and then at the older woman. He knew they'd no means to pay him. He knew further still if he'd insist that Nicole would be far too busy with her own work and caring for her mother to ever have time to assist him, he would only heap insult onto injury for the poor girl. The woman would need the help, either way he would be there. He supposed there was no harm in agreeing to the terms just now. As time went on, delicate negotiations could be made if they were needed. He glanced at Nicole, "done".

The three squeezed one another's hands. A deal had been struck, and all would benefit from it. There was a fresh round of tears, this time they were not of sorrow…but of relief…relief that in one another they could seek refuge.

XXXXX

Erik kissed Christine's temple as she turned into his arms, she slipping her arms about his waist, drawing him to her. She closed her eyes…she'd never felt more loved, more protected, more cherished than she did right then. Erik ran his hand tenderly along her back. "Choose one Christine?" She looked up into his eyes. He placed a tender playful kiss on the tip of her nose. "Choose one, and I shall tell you the story of it." Christine smiled at him, turning toward the pictures. "Let me see….let us start with this one." She said pointing."

"Ah yes…" he squeezed her hand. He would not leave out any detail.