Misty had stood keeping watch out the back window for several hours now. She'd busied herself with the task of starching and pressing the curtains from the parlor. There were six pair, and it was a tedious job, but one that allowed her to stay in one place, by the window as she worked. It was a task that none, save Misty liked to do. But to her, it was mindless work she thought she'd have been able to do in her sleep. The house on the lower level reeked of vinegar; the windows each having received a proper washing to a glorious sheen. The sun, warm at mid-day had provided them opportunity to clean them, and they'd sorely needed it. She'd watched and watched as the sun sank behind the line of pine trees, praying for all of their safety, hoping that Crawlings had nothing to do with their delayed return.
She walked to the stove, exchanging the cooling iron for a hot one, returning once more to her task. She thought solemnly as she began to slide it over the starch soaked fabric, she'd have but one more day before she'd have to prepare a response to Lady C. in her master and mistress' absence. What would she say, except the truth…they'd been detained, for she knew nothing more. In the meanwhile, she'd go on planning and preparing the house for such an auspicious event as the visit by the Lady.
The house, if one could lift the roof and peer inside, would have looked rather like a busy anthill. Worker ants scurrying here and there, completing their assignments. The house would be perfect. Not one cushion un-fluffed, nor one sill not dusted. They were busy, but happily so. They'd spent many months, nay, years, in quiet service to their absent master. At the end of the day, they would retire to their quarters, feeling they were worth their salt.
XXXXX
Nicole had tended to the simple broth soup as her mother had sliced the bread and cheese. The doctor had gone about setting the table, and opening a bottle of wine he'd brought as a gift of thanks. He'd insisted that he not be waited upon, nor allowed to be excluded from the work to be done. He was not betrothed to either woman, nor was he related, so all familial obligation to be treated as a guest at leisure would not apply.
It was an arrangement of convenience for all of them, and nothing more. He smiled at Nicole who'd looked over her shoulder to see that the soup bowls were in place. Walking over retrieving them one by one, she'd eschewed use of a tureen at the doctor's behest, if they'd not use it if it had been just the two of them, he'd not want them to fuss with it on his account. Nicole brought the last of the bowls to the table, as he slid the chair in for Nicole's mother, quickly moving to the other side of the table to do the same for Nicole. His grandfather and father had agreed on one thing, a lady was always to be treated as a lady, and he'd no doubt that he was in the company of no less than the finest of them.
Nicole and her mother bowed their head, the doctor followed suit. "Would you do us the honor doctor?" Nicole's mother said, never looking up for his acknowledgement, but simply sat with head bowed in preparation.
Nicole never moved, though her eyes glanced at the doctor in surprise, knowing her mother had put him in an awkward position. She could do nothing to rescue him, though her heart pounded in embarrassment.
The doctor stared at his lap for a second before regaining his composure, then he closed his eyes, and began to pray.
"Our dear Lord in heaven, we thank you for this meal, and for the closeness we share with one another this very evening. Please bless these two fine women who have graciously agreed to permit me a brief stay here whilst my home is readied for me." He paused…could he be so bold as to speak his heart? If not now, when…perhaps being bold and honest from the start would be a benefit to them all. He pressed his eyes tightly closed. "Lord, please bless Nicole and her mother with your peace as they come to terms with the loss of their loved one Victoria. I pray that you guard their hearts and their health jealously and with favor. Lord if it is within your divine will, please heal our dear lady from her infirmities. If it be your will that she should live a long and prosperous life, let it be so." He swallowed, their had been no gasps nor fainting at the unreserved honesty.
"Lord, if it is within your divine will to allow Nicole…to find love and acceptance in the form of a fine young suitor, then let it be so, for she is more than deserving of it."
Nicole's throat felt as if it would constrict so tightly that she could take in no air. What had he known about this? She was not yet qualified to be an old maid, how was it that he thought…she pressed her eyes tightly…she knew not how she would look at him when the prayer was finished.
The doctor continued, "Lord, please allow me to make my grandfather proud, and with the help of these fine women, let me come to know and love the people of this City…as my grandfather before me." He paused, "in the name of Jesus the Christ we pray…Amen." He opened his eyes, raising his head cautiously. He dipped his spoon into his soup without looking up. Somehow it felt wrong to make contact with their eyes just now, for he had been very bold in his utterances.
"Very well doctor, very well. I too am thankful…thankful the prayer wasn't any longer lest the soup be entirely cold." She smirked at him, a glint in the corner of her eye. She glanced up at the doctor, he was smiling as he dipped his spoon into the soup once more. "That, good sir, was my attempt on humor, did you not find it amusing?" She said now taking her bread and dipping it into the soup.
The doctor glanced at Nicole, the smile on her face confirming that her mother was indeed jesting. He thought for a moment, a sardonic tone in his voice, he replied, "thank you dear lady, I'd have thought your humor would be reserved for more refined company."
The trio laughed. The doctor sighed in relief, if he had been too bold, he was forgiven, at least for the moment. A glance at Nicole still let him know that he had no doubt touched at a very soft part of her heart, and one, he could tell from her lack of eye contact, that she would have liked to have kept entirely private.
"Wonderful soup my dear…it was grandmother's favorite." Nicole's mother said as she looked into the swirling steam that rose from the bowl below her. She inhaled closing her eyes. She'd been eating it at least once every week for the majority of her life. Even when she'd been a married woman, she'd made it as much out of habit as anything, for it reminded her of the mother she missed far away. It would be no different now. Something about that soup would always keep her connected to her mother….in the coming months….until she at last joined her in heaven.
XXX
The Barron returned to the room where DeChagny, Meg, Nadir, and her mother sat awaiting word on Raoul. He'd washed off all evidence of the blood he'd been bathed in just moments before. Quietly he closed the doors behind him. Four pair of eyes lay intently on his face, what did he know?
He came to sit on the divan next to DeChagny, opposite Meg. Madame Giry had risen and was even now offering him a cup of tea. He thanked her for it, taking a sip before he began.
"Raoul's injury required a bit of re-stitching. Whatever or wherever he found himself, he'd somehow managed to rip out fully half of the stitches, the others barely clinging together. Had they not remained, I shudder to think that he may have very well bled to death. He is weary now, and I've given him something to keep him at rest. He will have to return to his home for rest. I dare say his exertions will no doubt cause his recovery to be lengthened."
He turned to look at Raoul's father. "As long as your son is obedient, he will make full recovery. He simply must stay still for several days until his scalp heals, and the stitches are properly settled."
He looked over at Meg, reaching out for her hand. "Dear Lady, I must tell you, I fear that it is my fault that he ventured here. He was concerned for you, and in a moment of stupidity, I'd made mention that you'd come to Paris with your mother. Though he seemed concerned at the time, he'd given no indication he'd any intentions of trying to follow you." His eyes wander to her mother, who was holding her other hand, soothing her. He smiled, his attentions returning to Meg. "My dear he loves you so, he was worried…"
Everyone in the room knew, without it being said, why Raoul would have been worried. The doctor shot Nadir a glance. They both knew what the others did not…who Raoul claimed to have seen…and why he would be worried for Meg's safety. The others knew only that Raoul had lost his last love in Paris…at the Opera House…and he'd be taking no chances with Meg's life…not now.
He glanced back at Meg. "He will recover, and my dear, I think now it would do well if you could be at his side, as much as you can tolerate. It provides him comfort, and will no doubt keep him in bed where he belongs if he knows you are safe." The doctor squeezed Meg's hand.
Meg looked around the room, Raoul's words haunting her…she knew what society would think of such things if she stayed in his room, and he'd been determined to protect both of their honor. She looked Raoul's father directly in the eye, if he'd condone it, she would do so. "Is it permitted? My being at his side while he convalesces?"
DeChagny sighed, he understood why she would ask. He recalled the bitter diatribe he and Raoul had exchanged on the very subject. "Meg, it is what is best for Raoul now that should concern us. If you are willing dear lady, then I shall take care of any who would question it. Do not worry." His chin was squared and certain, he'd see to the squelching of any rumors that started.
Meg smiled at him, nodding her head slightly. She glanced at the doctor, "then let it be so."
He nodded. Standing, he said, "very well." He looked around at the group, now confident that all would be well. "Did I hear someone mention a meal? Or was that my overactive mind reeling in the wonderful aromas that are wafting up the stairways?"
DeChagny rose, "not your imagination at all my friend, a meal is to be delivered to a room down the hall, I believe the architect called it a great or a gathering room in his plans." He came along side the doctor, the pair walking shoulder to shoulder to the door. Nadir rose, extending his arm to Madame Giry, who took it with a smile.
Meg hesitated, "if you do not mind". the group all turning to look at her. "I shall take my meal with Raoul." She blinked, lowering her eyes to her hands before looking up at them again.
The doctor walked over to her taking her hands into his. "Meg, he is resting now, you've need for something to eat, you look peaked my dear." He looked her in the eye, a sudden rush of compassion filling him.
"Monsieur…you yourself said that he would benefit from my attending at his side." Meg said softly.
"Yes my dear, but you should…"
Meg interrupted, "Sir, he would do it for me…he has done it for me…." She smiled just slightly, trying, he could tell, to fight back tears. She felt guilty for having left his side in the first place, though she could not have imagined missing her visit with Christine and Erik.
He patted her hand, "very well then, we shall have your meal sent in for you." He took her arm in his, he would escort her himself to Raoul's side. He'd want to reassure her when she saw him that all was well, all was normal, considering the circumstances. He'd had to shave off a bit more hair in back, and his scalp was swollen and red. He'd not covered it with a bandage for he'd hoped the wound would dry a bit before he'd cover it.
The rest of the group proceeded out the door and down the hall, the doctor and Meg exited, going to the first small dorm room on the right. It had a window, a small stove and a single bed and chair in it. It was all she would need to be at his side until they could return to DeChagny Manor where she could care for his every need until he was fully recovered. Perhaps it would be her turn to read to him, as he had to her, all those sleepless nights. The bond was forming, ever deeper. If she could be there for him in some small way, in return for all he had done for her, it would warm her heart to do it.
As she came to rest in the chair, the door closing behind her, she and Raoul were finally alone. She reached out to lay her hand on his. His face was carefully laid between two pillows, allowing the back of his head to point to the ceiling. She rubbed her fingers over his tenderly…he did not flinch. She rose, brushing a soft kiss across his cheek, staring at him for a long while, deep in thought. He had done so much for her….was so much to her now.
Her fingers wandered to the ring that he'd given her, recalling fondly the wonderful snowy afternoon he'd taken her to that special place, the grotto that lay at the very end of his property….the day he'd given it to her. How wonderful an afternoon it had been…eve without the gift it would have been an afternoon she'd have remembered all of her life. Never had any gentleman gone to such lengths to surprise her, to please her. She smiled widely, she imagined that was how it felt to be romanced. Her eyes studied Raoul's sleeping form….it hadn't been a dream…he had romanced her…and there had been no hint of Christine in that moment, it had been only she and Raoul. She smiled, and perhaps a little bit of the aura of his grandfather!
Her faced turned a bit serious, remembering the story he'd told her of his grandfather having learned a lesson at great cost. She smoothed the back of her hand along his cheek…he loved his grandfather dearly, respected, and protected the memory of the man vehemently. He had wished he was his grandfather's son, and in some ways, he couldn't have been more like the man he had described to her, if he had intended to be so.
Meg sighed, running her finger along the shape of Raoul's face, and across his lips. She stood just staring at him. Perhaps she'd need to remind him of the story when he woke. He would do well to glean the wisdom of the story he'd told her. One should always listen to what one is told, especially when proffered by those trained or seasoned in life to know the consequences of disobedience.
If he'd stayed in bed as he'd been instructed, none of this would have befallen him. He would even now be resting in his room, a proper meal in his lap, and good conversation and a warming fire his companions. As it was now, he'd relegated himself to days more of healing, and no doubt additional pain and suffering. She closed her eyes. His mind would be suffering as much as anything if he knew whose cloak he had in his possession. Meg, however, was allowing for the possibility that he might not have known, that it were a mere coincidence. She laughed, shaking her head…she knew better, though the possibility gave her mind chance to escape the horrors of the probable truths for a time.
She glanced away at the window. She leaned down giving him another kiss before she wandered over, pushing the curtain aside. She looked out at the City, lamenting. If he'd only listened, she might now find herself at Sara's graveside with Erik and Christine. Giving proper respect to a woman who had done so very much for them all.
Her mind flashed to Christine, her lip trembled as she said in a low breath, "where are you my sister…I pray that all is well." She reached out her hand placing it against the glass. If only she knew where Raoul had taken possession of the cloak…she would breathe a bit easier.
She glanced over at Raoul. Suddenly a bit of belated empathy gripped her. Oh how Christine would have suffered those months waiting for Erik to wake…never knowing if Erik would wake. She was saddened that she'd not been more sympathetic to her situation when she'd gone through the worst of it. She shook her head, perhaps it was something one could not fully empathize with, until one had some point of personal reference to the heartache. She closed her eyes to pray…pray for them all, for they needed it desperately.
XXXX
Christine had risen several times to uncover Erik, cool his forehead with a damp cloth, and encourage him to sip more of the tea from the pot kept warm by the fire. Then she'd rejoined him when the shivering started again. They'd made this course several times, silently, Erik allowing her to care for him without protest.
Christine smiled and cooed in his ear that he was being a very good patient, and that when he was well, he would be rewarded for his good behavior. That had caused him to smile through his fevered glances.
His coughing had stopped, no doubt a benefit of the herbs and lemon that the woman had brewed for him. It did indeed have the most bitter of aromas, Christine thought to herself, but Erik took it without complaint. She surmised that he must have known that there was advantage in the unpleasantness, for certainly none would have voluntarily taken something so horrid without assurances that the cure was worth it.
At last Christine settled in next to him once more, his chill having set in yet again, though his shaking was much diminished from several hours before. They lay, eyes open, facing one another on the pillow. They'd found themselves in that position so many times….just staring into one another's eyes. He seemed to be saying "thank you"….she seemed to be saying "I love you".
Christine lifted her hand to Erik's face, running it through his hair, pushing it away. He closed his eyes each time her hand passed over his cheek, the sensation was mesmerizing, even to his fevered skin. She smiled at him, sliding her hand down his shoulder and arm taking his hand into hers. Leading it to her flesh, she deposited their intertwined fingers over her abdomen. There was something about their singularity as separate bodies being joined in the most powerful way in their growing children. No matter the circumstances, the very act of placing their hands over that small bundle of proliferating flesh, as they dwelled safely within her, reminded them of what was most important now. Illness would pass, they would leave Paris, Spring would give way to Summer, and eventually to Autumn…and then…and then…their world would change forever.