Dear Faithfuls! I am so very happy and relieved to be home once more. Not just home physically, but home to all of you my phamily! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and opportunity to spend time with those they care most about! As for my friends that I cared for post-surgery…they are both doing well. The one who had surgery last Thursday is happily back at work today, though she said she misses our being together terribly….it was hard to leave her, though I must say I don't mind getting a bit more sleep! Even in her drugged state, she'd stay up until 4:00 a.m. just chatting, and wondered why I was so sleepy when she rose at 7:30! She is doing well though. My second friend, who had surgery on Tuesday, is also doing well, though she had a few complications and will likely have two more surgeries before she is finished. She is a fighter though, so I know all will be well wit her.
Thank you once again for staying with our story, our Phamily, and I hope that this chapter provides a few smiles, a few tears, and perhaps a few answers.
Did I mention it was so very wonderful to be home?
The carriage master returned to the house once more. Everything had been readied to Nadir's specifications. Though he'd have preferred to allow no one to leave, as the receding snow would make travel difficult, he could see the prudence in taking care of the final details for their dearly departed friend. Furthermore, they'd need to pay, what would likely be a last visit, on the relatives who'd traveled to Paris to call on them.
He was shaking his head as he came in the back entry, wiping his feet on the duly provided rug for that purpose. Madeline had seen to having them brought out of winter storage just after the storm arrived some days before. He thought about the young man that would have to be carried into Paris before the day came to a close. Truly, he'd not liked anything about the Crawlings character to be sure, but it was heartbreaking none-the-less, that a young man's life had taken such a precipitously ugly plunge before he'd even reached full maturity. It seemed to him, the youth had little choice in his final fate, having been shaped and crafted into nothing more than a heartless hunter, vengeance his only means of satiation.
The Crawlings family had waged such treachery these last years, and the good citizens of Paris would be ever so grateful that the City had been rid of every seed and root of the bloodline. He'd fixated long on that thought as he had stared down at the boy's corpse the night before. He'd looked like an innocent lad sleeping, if not a bit like some in his own keeping. He'd found some resting, from time-to-time, in the barn or in the woods, when they were to be otherwise engaged in some activity. He could imagine only that this young man had deserved a chance to be freed of the fate that had befallen him solely because of his breeding. Had he been raised by a proper family, perhaps he would have been a much different young man altogether. It was not to be now.
In a few days time, young Crawlings would be laid to rest alongside his father and brother, in a grave suitable only for villains in the darkest, most disagreeable part of the cemetery. Oddly enough, years from now, their escapades would likely be told as stories with evil waging its war against good; where villains seemed glorified, and brave good men painted as naïve. That was simply the way of things.
His cloak now removed and hanging on the hook provided in the servant's closet, he went straightaway to the parlor peering in. Nadir, Madame Giry, and Meg sat inside sipping on the last of their tea. To his pleasure, he could see they were prepared; small packed bags at their sides. He smiled as he entered; they were all ready.
"Monsieur, Madame, mademoiselle." He nodded in respectful greeting. "The sleigh is readied. A modest lunch has been packed for you; should you find need for it, but I am most certain that you shan't have any difficulty securing a meal at the Opera Populaire." He looked at them as they all stood. "Shall we say five minutes Sir?"
Nadir nodded. They were just a bit more than an hour away from reuniting with Erik and Christine. Though he was filled with the giddy enthusiasm of a schoolboy, his mind wrestled with what state he would find Erik in. Certainly there would be private discussions amongst the women, and he was as badly in need of that very thing as he was most certain Erik would be. "Very well sir; five minutes." He looked at Madame Giry with a bit of eagerness in his eye as she nodded her head. "We shall be prepared and join you in the courtyard."
The carriage master nodded once more and departed.
"Now Meg, do make certain you've brought your muff along. Though I feel it is warming this very minute, I've good reason to believe that there might very well be a chill in the air when we return later in the day. It is best to be prepared my dear." He looked at her with a fatherly smile.
"Nadir, truly you are a worry wart, akin to my mother I'm afraid!" She sighed, looking back and forth between her mother and Nadir. She smiled to herself…. "I'll see to retrieving it, I know precisely where it is in my wardrobe." She glanced at her mother, and then back at Nadir. "I shan't be but a moment." She made her way to the door, a broad smile crossing her face as soon as they were out of view. Perhaps a moment alone would be good for the pair of them.
Meg made her way out into the hall, squinting at the brightness of the sun. The hall was warm, and glowing. She made quick work of the stairs, feeling fully rested and ready to meet the challenges of the day.
As she made her way into her room, her thoughts wandered to Raoul, the smile quickly fading from her face. Oh how she wanted to be by his side, silently holding his hand as he had done for her so very many times when she'd been recuperating. Guilt panged at her heart…the very least she could do was to return the concerned, affectionate attentions. She closed her eyes. Never had her soul been so torn in two directions. It felt like a prisoner, her heart being drawn and quartered…it was so very difficult.
She knew the doctor would provide far more for Raoul's needs than she ever might, yet it grieved her to think of leaving him without so much as a word of explanation. "No, I must not dwell on it." She said under her breath. The doctor had assured her that Raoul would likely not stir until well after dark, and that it was best that he rested, his traumas had been great and he'd needed a reprieve from them. Full and complete rest would be best for him.
She pulled the muff from the drawer. Finding herself once more out in the hallway, the stairs to her left, the corridor on the right, led to Raoul's room. She paused and then turned, if but for a moment, she'd tarry outside his door, sending him a silent wish and a prayer. It could do no harm.
She stood there a long while, ear pressed against the hollow door. It had something of an amplifying affect. She could hear perfectly the doctor clearing his throat, pouring a cup of tea, and the parchment pages of a book he was likely reading, turning under the guidance of his hand.
Meg closed her eyes. The Latin training of her youth produced the most curious of quotes that floated in an out of her mind during times of stress…and leaving him provided no lack of proper stimulation. "Inter spem et metum ihil est ab omni parte beatum" (Between hope and fear- Nothing is good in every part) That was her feeling. Something between hope of what being reunited with Erik and Christine would produce, and the fear that Raoul would somehow feel rejected, abandoned, and utterly alone, once more unsure of her commitment to him. "I love you" she whispered, placing a delicate kiss on the door...then she was gone.
Nadir had fidgeted with his cloak, his top hat donned. He and Madame Giry had stood in near silence since Meg had left, other than the "thank you" she'd managed when he lifted the cloak to her shoulders. They looked, smiling at one another as though they were nothing more than polite strangers. Meg's words had hit a cord in their hearts…why did they wait? Why did she not give him permission to call her by a more familiar moniker?
He glanced at the ground.
Madame Giry's heart was racing. It nearly went without saying, she was deluged with eager anticipation at the mere though of seeing Christine and Erik. However, in that moment, she was wrestling with something more. Something that frightened her, for it was part of a past she'd long thought dead. An overwhelming urge she'd long since forgotten; a flicker of a light she'd thought to have buried with her husband some years before. She longed to rush into Nadir's arms, rest her cheek against his shoulder, feel the strength of his arms in an embrace….but she knew it could not be so. She just stood, looking back and forth between the door that led out into the hallway where Meg or the carriage master would certainly come through at any moment and the exaggerated ticking of the large clock on the mantel. They were unworthy distractions, only prolonging the agony…something akin to a jagged sliver being pulled out of the flesh slowly.
Conflict was always difficult. This internalized torture was unbearable. Responsible people….no….she thought, people who are charged with being responsible for the lives of others, were not permitted the luxury of such feelings; but that did not prevent their hearts for burning for it all the same. She'd felt the sweat grow on her brow, quickly reaching into the pocket of her cloak to retrieve her handkerchief. Her tugging released it, along with her gloves that fell into a ball on the ground. She hurriedly began tucking the lining of her pocket back into her cloak.
Nadir came forward in a gentlemanly gesture to scoop up her gloves from the ground. As he stood, extending the contents of his hand to her, their eyes locked.
Madame Giry could not breathe. She blinked once, and only once, and in that fleeting second Nadir came forward embracing her. He slid his arm around her waist, the other gently on her back drawing her to him. His head resting just above her ear. "Antoinette, for all of the reasons we both know to be true, and all those we've discussed, this shan't be as we would wish it." He closed his eyes swallowing hard…he'd not want her to misunderstand. "In my heart I can behold no one other than you….and the thought of living without you…I could sooner do without the beating of my heart." The warmth of his breath on her skin was scintillating.
The rigidity and fear rapidly dissolving into a warmth and feeling much like an itch that had eluded you for a long while, finally being found and suitably scratched. She turned her head breathlessly intending to reply. Her pulse was racing. She stared up into his eyes, and felt as a young mademoiselle in her teens, swooning in the wake of her emotion. The words would not form…there seemed to be none in her entire vocabulary that could impart what she was feeling…The physical proximity allowed her reflexes to do what her mind could not. Her lips reaching out for his instead.
In a moment she would remember for long years to come, Nadir tenderly took her lips into his, kissing her with a tender reservation. He wanted so to embrace her with the passion that burned within him, yet feared in his heart he would frighten her once more into retreating from him. Madame Giry had begun to tremble as the rush of emotions long pent, now exposed, came rushing forward as the mighty waters swelling through a broken dam. She slipped her arms beneath his cloak, running them behind Nadir's back, returning his affections.
The kiss lasted only a few precious minutes; ending with the pair breathless. Her forehead pressed against his chin, his lips grazing her temple. Nothing could be said….nothing needed to be said…they were no longer able to deny it. On the seemingly impassable brink, the question would now become…however would they manage it? They both knew, that not everything that sprouted and grew on this earth was allowed to survive. Only the keeper of time would know their fate.
Madame Giry's head turned as she heard what could only be Meg's steps coming down the stairs. Though she was light on her feet, to the trained ears of a ballet Mistress, she would recognize that sound anywhere.
Nadir slipped his arms from around Madame Giry, releasing her. As they separated, he brushed a delicate kiss on her cheek before reaching up for the hook that affixed her cloak. "There we are." He said as he smiled at Meg who was just rejoining them.
Meg came in smiling, her mother was all flushed, but she'd not say a word about it. Perhaps she would pass it off as being a bit warm, having had her cloak on for sometime in a room that now was growing rather warm itself. "I've my muff…are we ready?"
Nadir nodded, extending his arm to Madame Giry, "shall we….Antoinette?"
Meg's eyes shone brightly as she looked at her mother, eager for her response.
She glanced at Meg, a warm knowing smile. "Yes Nadir…I am ready." She slipped her arm in his.
Nadir extended his other arm for Meg. "Ladies, it is my most genuine pleasure to be escorting the two of you to visit your family. Let us pray for good weather, safe travel, and a wonderful visit shall we?"
Meg looked down, a small bit of the shine in her eyes disappearing. "And for a good day's rest for Raoul.."
Madame Giry leaned over kissing Meg's temple. "Do not worry my dear, all shall be well with him….all shall be well."
The trio walked down the corridor and out into the awaiting sleigh. The trip into Paris would seem long simply for the sheer anticipation of what awaited them within that City…for it was what they longed for…to the depths of their souls.
XXXXXX
Erik and Christine sat by the side of the fire. Backs leaned up against the divan, as they were nestled in one another's arms in the numerous blankets that they'd wrapped about them on the floor. Christine's cheek nestled against the warmth of the flesh by Erik's neck. Her eyes taking turns luring her into a comforting slumber and turning to look upon his face…she'd never grow tired of gazing upon it.
Erik sighed. It was neither of discomfort or disgust, but merely of a relaxed, peaceful soul sighing in relief. He was precisely where he would want to stay forevermore…in Christine's arms. He had no idea what time of day it had grown to, or why the lady and the young men had yet to return, but he could say with complete certainty, that he couldn't have thought of a finer way to spend a day of leisure. A day of leisure…..a pleasure he'd viewed as weakness in the human race. Recent events of the months just previous had altered his perception of the art of relaxation. It did, he learned, serve a most suitable purpose.
He looked down into Christine's eyes. His heart nearly melted every time he looked into the depths of those brown eyes…they drew him in like a mighty whirlpool for he was sure that her gaze alone possessed a centrifugal force, and he was powerless against it.
"Christine…I love you." He said as he brushed her hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She leaned her cheek down into the palm of his hand.
"And I my love, adore you." She smiled back up at him, bringing her hand to rest under his as she rubbed her cheek in his palm.
"My dear Christine, though I would much prefer to stay just as we are, I know that the time will grow late and we should be readying for a visit to the Opera House. Come," he stood, taking her hand, assisting her to rise, all manner of blanket and cover slipping to the floor. "Let me help you…"
He slid her slip over her head, placing a kiss on each shoulder before he reached for her dress, slipping it down to rest on her frame. He tied each ribbon, drawing the fasteners together assuring that everything was in place before he'd tend to his own dressing. She was the very picture of loveliness.
He'd slipped on his trousers and was reaching for his shirt when he felt a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her.
"Thank you Erik…" Christine began to gush. "Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for the paintings, for the love and compassion with which you treated me." She stared into his eyes, she would not look away though her humility begged her to…it was so very forward of her. She swallowed and continued. "Thank you most of all…for giving me you. You are all I shall ever need in this life my love…all I shall ever want…thank you for having courage enough for the both of us."
Erik stood looking down at her. Her tenderness, her gentleness, her goodness, oozing out of her. "Christine…..I love you." He kissed her tenderly. It was a precious moment.
Erik's head snapping sharply as he looked over his shoulder. They'd both heard it. The door at the back of the woman's house opened and closed.
They heard footsteps coming down the hall, a voice calling out. "Monsieur Stephan?" Erik smiled, surely this young man would have brought news from Nadir, and he would be anxious to know the reply. It would determine what they would do in the very next hour, for if they'd not be preparing to receive Nadir, Madame Giry, and Meg at the Opera House, he would see to sending the young man back out to retrieve them all a quite proper dinner.
Erik quickly slipped on his shirt, donning his robe to meet the young man at the entry to the room. Christine took up a cup from the table, tea now long cold, making the scene quite innocent to the casual glance.
"Monsieur!" the young man stammered a bit startled as Erik flung the heavy drapery up and over a large hook to the side of the entry. He bowed just slightly, not yet knowing the fine manners that a simple nod of the head could impart. "I'm to deliver this note in response, with a gentle greeting from Nadir. He said he is rather looking forward to seeing you….you both." He said, looking over Erik's shoulder at Christine who sat playing he perfect part, raising the cup of cold liquid up to her lips, but never taking so much as one swallow for the very scent and thought of cold tea nauseated her. She smiled at him.
The young man stood there casually after producing the note and giving it to Erik. Suddenly not aware of what to do with his hands as he awaited further instruction. Folded in front of him, they looked too much like a choir boy, tucked behind him, he looked more like conductor…out of frustration he dropped them heavily to his sides, keeping his fingers straight and rigid…he looked a bit like a toy soldier. The corner of Erik's mouth flickered at the humor of it.
"That will be all just now." Erik turned away, then turned back, flipping the note in his hand. "Does the woman return now?"
The young man looked relieved, finally something he felt adequately prepared to respond to. "Yes, she is not long behind me, perhaps five minutes or so." He smiled and departed.
Christine put the cup, nay, the prop, back in its saucer, patting the spot on the divan she wished Erik to sit.
Though Erik had seen her gesture, he'd try to ignore it. He'd want to view the contents first, and then decide how much he would share with Christine. He opened the card, pacing toward the fire, not noticing that Christine's previously sunny expression had faded.
The papers open in his hand as he read:
Dear Stephan: I thank you for your most encouraging note, though I dare say the true purpose for your visit to Paris just now, considering the storm and its remnants, is somewhat perplexing. Regardless of what brings you to the City, I can assure you that Madame Giry and Meg will be most excited to converse with you when we arrive this afternoon. Since the trip is not long, but just now rather tedious, we shall make a variety of purposes for it so as not to tire the service of the staff of our most gracious host. Madame Giry has want to examine further the accommodations being prepared for she and Meg at the Opera House. It will take us but a few hours to travel in, and perhaps several more for Madame Giry to explore. I myself have need to travel to the office of the magistrate. Perhaps dinner at the location you suggested would be most suitable; Madame Giry knew just the place you were discussing. She too had mentioned it had been a long while since you'd both been there. Meg too looks forward to the visit. I am to tell you that we are all rather well, and share the good news, though perhaps being in Paris you may have already learned of it. Our Raoul is something of a hero, having foiled an attack oh his household. It seems the Crawlings family has finally come to an end. I can share more of the details when we meet. He would very much like to see the two of you again, and had considered joining us for our visit, though the physician who treated the gash at the back of his head, had suggested otherwise. Perhaps one day very soon he will be up to his desire of paying you a visit at the winter house. As for today, it will be only the three of us. In deepest regards, Nadir.
"In deepest regards…" Erik mumbled under his breath. That meant that there could be complications and that he was to proceed with great caution. His thoughts raced….Raoul had been planning to come with them? He planned to pay a visit to the winter house! Erik's pulse was suddenly anything but normal. It had been his pretext…the final reason he needed to move his family, in spite of the obvious protests the idea was certain to raise in Christine, back to Courtland Manor. It was safe there, and decidedly far enough from Paris and Chauesser for that matter, to provide them the privacy that he so craved…at the very least until the end of Christine's confinement. His lashes flickered, he looked up at Christine. "They are coming to Paris…this very night!"
Christine leapt into Erik's arms. "Oh my love, I am so very excited!"
Erik began to chuckle, not even trying to hide his obvious pleased amusement at Christine's reaction. She'd flung her arms around his mid-section, rubbing her cheek along the exposed flesh of his chest. "They are coming….my dear Meg….Madame Giry….Nadir…they are coming…." Her voice trailed off.
"Now my dear, we must be ready. We will have to travel, and since he indicated they'd other items that had also to be completed during their visit, it is safe to say it will be an evening engagement." He smiled, he'd said it loudly enough for the pair of ears that waited outside the room to hear.
"Young man?" Erik called out.
He appeared almost instantly at the entrance to the room. "Monsieur?"
Erik grinned, the boy still didn't know what to do with his hands, fumbling with them as he tried to stand properly. "Young man, how far did you say that Erphan and the woman were behind you?"
He grinned, "just five minutes sir…perhaps a bit more." He said amending his previous statement since five minutes time had come and gone.
Erik smiled at him, not a condescending smile, but one that told the young man that he had room for growth, but no need for concern. "My wife and I will be traveling this evening, for a few brief hours for a visit. When Erphan returns, please let him know of our intentions won't you?" Erik paused, "Furthermore, I should like very much to have a visit with the woman when she returns. You will give my wife and I the courtesy of some privacy with her when she arrives."
The young man nodded, understanding that though the words were chosen to sound like a request, the tone with which they were delivered indicated they were an order. "Yes monsieur, I shall see to it."
Erik and Christine were alone once more. "He is a bit rough around the edges, but he too has potential…with proper instruction of course." Erik said as he turned to look at Christine. Her face was ashen. He went to her, immediately taking her hand in his. "What is it?"
She looked up at him. It was not fear that rose in her eyes, but a bit more a curious, serious, wonder. "The vision…" she took her hand back and began to pace. "Crawlings is dead to be sure, but what of what I saw? Shall it be safe?" She asked a question she knew he could not answer. She shook her head. "He is dead…he can cause us no harm now.." She walked passed Erik, lifting the tray with the tea pot, collecting the tea cups. It was idle distraction for what truly ran through her mind. Why had it been so very vivid, so real…had their early reaction preempted what would have eventually happened had they not come? Her eyes met Erik's as she moved toward the doorway. "Perhaps we will know more when Nadir and Meg arrive…" she stammered. It was the only sensible thing to do now. She moved passed him and down the hall. She'd not have her host thinking them to be most untidy houseguests…not someone who had quite obviously meant a great deal to Erik over the years.
XXXX
Nadir sat across from Meg. He had originally given the two ladies the larger of the two seats to share, but Meg had felt faint, and he and Madame Giry had allowed Meg to recline in it, thus effectively relegating them to share the one small seat that Nadir had occupied alone until just minutes ago. Now the two were seated, rather comfortably next to one another. Somewhere along the way Nadir had slipped his hand beneath his cloak and found Madame Giry's hand. She'd not refused, which likely accounted for her unusually rosy hue that colored her porcelain cheeks.
Meg lay all the while trying not to reveal herself, for she was no more tired than she was hungry. The ruse had provided an adequate excuse to persuade her mother and Nadir to spend a bit more time in one another's close proximity. Meg was saying to herself, "do not smile, do not smile, do not smile," for she'd betray herself. Finally, she could take it no longer. She sighed and flipped herself over as if she were in her own bed, deep in slumber. Now comfortably facing the back of the seat she tucked her head down smiling profusely. It was time, she decided much without her mother's consent, for the two of them to find the happiness that they had denied for far too long.
XXXX
Erik and Christine rose as the woman came into the room. She was bearing gifts, small tokens really, of her visit to the shops that afternoon. She'd a lovely hair pin for Christine, a long gold pin with a glittering heart. "The jeweler thought it odd to be buying such a thing at this time of year, but did not question her motives when the money found its way into his pockets. For Erik, he had easily guessed as he looked at the fancy foil, that she'd brought him another box of chocolates, the violet ones. "You simply must have some to take home with you!" She exclaimed.
They graciously and gratefully took the gifts from the woman, the obvious pleasure in the giving was her reward, they'd not be depriving her of it. The three sat and talked for a long while, consuming the fresh pineapple that she'd brought back with her from a market that had just received its first shipment of goods since the storm had made trade nearly impossible. They savored each bite over good conversation.
"Now, it is fortuitous, that you should have plans that will take you away from here for several hours, I shan't be much company as I've a few projects to finish." Her face turning toward Erik. "If you do not mind my being such a terrible host, I shan't mind not finding a proper table for dinner, since you will be no doubt joining them for a meal."
Erik laughed, "dear lady, do not think me to be so callous a guest. Yes, my wife and I will dine with her relatives, of that I am quite certain, but I've taken care of arrangements, I hope you do not find it too forward, to have a suitable dinner delivered here for the three of you."
The woman didn't want to smile, indicating that she was both relieved and pleased with this his words. "You'd no need to do such things, it is.."
Erik laughed, "you are right, I'd no need. But indeed they are my staff, and you had no need to take all of us in…it is my pleasure to offer a small token of our gratitude."
She smiled once more. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've need to go to my sewing room." She rose, as did Erik and Christine. She called over her shoulder as she left the room. "Has he told you of the one of the young woman in the field of iris?" She laughed, "that one was always my favorite." And then she was gone.
Christine cocked her head to one side, "a field of iris?" She didn't remember seeing that one. Then she realized what the woman meant. It had been what she'd seen on the walls…beyond the paintings…the actual walls themselves had been painted with greens and flowers…and now that she thought about it…yes, she was quiet certain they had been iris! They'd been more like a shadowed picture, a ghostly image of the flowers overlaid on a rather ordinary surface.
She turned to look at him. His face was wide and smiling, his eyes tilted and confessing. "Every young woman deserves a secret garden…and this my dear…was yours." He blinked several times. It seemed that there would never be an end to the things he might have to confess to her…he only wondered when or if…it would be too much for her.
Without a word, she reached out for his hand, leading him back once more. They had a bit of time, the sun was slowly sinking in the sky, at least an hour, maybe two. Perhaps she would like to know more about the pictures…but she'd be certain to save at least three of them…giving them reason to return there…..someday.