Erphan laid down the book on the table next to him. The silence of the house, coupled with the dripping of the rapidly departing icicles just outside the window, had nearly driven him mad. He was accustomed to some sort of noise, some sort of goings on at nearly all hours of the day, but most certainly, when the sun was up. He could nearly not take the silence.
He rose, walking over to look at several of the pictures in the parlor. Why they held such fascination for anyone, he couldn't tell, they were women, all women without faces, and in the strangest places one could imagine. How could anyone know what the woman was thinking without benefit of the expressions of a face? It struck him very odd that an artist would paint in that way. He had to give the artist this much, he had never beheld anything quite like them before!
Erphan paced back and forth until he was bored to distraction. He pushed the curtain aside, the sun seemed to beckon him…come out…come out…. He rubbed at his face walking over to the clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning. By now he'd have had breakfast, morning tea, and would even now be preparing for his lunch. So far this day he'd had several cups of tea, and a few kippers with a dried biscuit, hardly what he'd call a suitable replacement for more desirable sustenance! His stomach growled, and though the woman had urged him to eat whatever he liked, nothing was of interest to him there that would not take a bit of preparation, and he'd not want to dirty a sink full of dishes just to feed himself. He and the other young man had finished off all of the cheeses, and dried meats. There was but a loaf of stale French bread and a pot of mustard left in the basket, minus a few sweets that he knew were Elizabeth's favorites, so he shan't be eating those!
He paced a bit more. He'd the money in his pocket that Stephan had given him before they'd left Chauesser, and indeed, he'd been told to use it if there was a suitable need… He paced back and forth in front of the fire. He glanced once more at the clock, and then down the silent hall. He went to the window. He could see to the street just one block away, there were people moving about, and he thought he'd seen men with shovels not far in front of what he was certain now was a carriage.
Closing his eyes, he sighed, pausing for a moment to think. Then, he inhaled, a resolved look on his face. He went to the hall retrieving his boots and cloak. He'd take what funds he had and go out to find them a proper lunch. Even Stephan would not disapprove under the circumstances he thought to himself.
Donning his cloak and boots, he made his way to the door. A note had been left on the table just outside of his room. Truly he would not be gone long, but he'd no want for them to worry. Every other time he'd traveled from this place, he'd used the service entrance, save of course, when they'd first arrived. Today he would go out into the City from this more proper entrance, it seemed just the thing to do.
XXX
"They'll be coming soon, I can feel it in my bones." Said the man as he lifted his head from saying grace over his lunch. "The foal grows stronger every day, and Monsieur Courtland will be very pleased indeed when he gets a look at 'em." He lifted his bread pulling off a large piece dunking it into his soup.
The woman was nodding her head. She was growing rather stir crazy with just this man for company. Though he was suitable for the services he'd been charged with, he was rather dim-witted; his conversations lacked any hint of real interest. She wondered what adventures the other staff were having at the winter house. Surely they'd be returning soon, if not for good, at least for the seasonal things that one would want when Spring truly arrived. They'd never spent a Spring at the Winter house, so she was not at all certain what precisely would be needed. The weather seemed to grow warmer with each passing hour. What had been a mere few drops a minute from the icicles hanging from the roof, now nearly sounded like rain it ran so hard.
"The mud will be thick and difficult along the way. If they'll not depart in the next day, I'm quite afraid that sleigh they have won't be of much use to them." She shook her head. "There was a reason for such order in the household, a reason the winter house was departed when the snow was still firmly on the ground. Now we'll have quite a mess of things until everything is resettled once again. It will make many trips on lone horses, for surely the mud and melt after such a storm will make using a carriage nearly impossible for some days to come!"
She sighed, suddenly she'd lost her appetite. "If you'll pardon me sir, I've several tasks to tend to; I've items on the line outside. Thank heaven's there's a breeze, or nothing would be drying!" She nodded her head and got up from the table, walking out the door.
There was little else to do these days. Everything imaginable had been cleaned, washed, pressed, or polished. She'd ground flour, she'd darned socks, she'd done every stitch of mending she could find in the house. She'd even cleaned out the closets, dusting and rearranging them. Now, she'd nothing to do but wait. She could read, and she had a little every day, but her old eyes grew rather weary, the spectacles she had were no longer useful when her eyes grew tired. Yes, waiting….waiting and wondering, though she prayed it would not be long now. Whenever they arrived, she would be most thankful for the company. The house was readied, now all that was needed was the family that made it a home.
XXX
Andre had taken leave of his meeting with Lady C. She was her usual self, working right until the lunch hour, reviewing with him every detail of the events she had planned for the Spring gala. She wanted there to be no mistakes this year, and no underestimating the number of children. She'd instructed him to check with each church, making certain no new families had moved into the City without her knowledge, nor babies born in recent weeks. She wanted to be absolutely certain that there was a gift for every child, no matter the age. Last year she'd had to send Andre off with a shopkeeper in haste to make up a little basket of goods for a new family that had arrived just days before. She'd not want the embarrassment again if it could be helped.
Each of the girls who were turning sixteen were going to receive a simple strand of pearls, nine in all this year. It had been a long tradition in the City, one she hoped she'd be able to continue for a great many years. She delighted so at the pleasure the girls took in receiving them, it had almost become a formal right of passage amongst them, as if they were now ready to be suited. For certainly any girl who wore the strand of pearls was of age to be wed, or at the very least betrothed.
Each young man turning the age of eighteen was given opportunity to have his first year of books paid for if he were attending university. Or, if he were planning to stay in the City and apprentice himself to some trade, he was given a proper monetary equivalent such as tools or texts on his chosen work.
To the couples who were married in the last year, a cradle, to welcome the eventual arrival of children into the world, when the time arrived.
For those who had built a home within the last year, several fruit trees to grace their gardens.
There were so many details to double-check, she'd not want to miss a single thing. This year had taken on a sudden significance, she could feel it. Perhaps it was the passing of Victoria…perhaps it was the selfless heroics of the newest citizen, whatever it was, there was an aura of mystery in the air, and it made her tingle with anticipation.
She'd shrugged off comment over the years about the money she spent on such things each year. She'd no other family, no children of her own to leave a large inheritance, and she knew, if she lived to be one hundred and fifty, and did this and more every year, she still shan't be able to spend all of the money that was left her, nor all of the money the investments and business her father had left behind still earned. Yes, she could have lived a rather ostentatious life with all of its grandeur for the remainder of her days, galivanting about to this country and that, having lovers here and there. But, she'd given her heart away years ago, and though she was bound by no marriage vows, she'd been faithful to him none-the-less. She was content to live her life, knowing she'd brought some good, some happiness, to a place that had once held her every hope and dream.
XXXX
Meg sat quietly by Raoul. Her mother had brought her meal, the tray lay off on the small table, but she'd not touched more than a few bites of it, she'd had no appetite to speak of. She wished for Raoul to wake, for him to reassure her that all would be well, just as he had so many times before when she was the one convalescing.
Meg had nearly caused a sore on her finger twisting and turning at the ring Raoul had given her. She'd looked down at is so many times, recalling when he'd given it to her. To her he had seemed invincible then. Now he seemed as fallible as the rest of the world.
She found her mind wandering back to Christine's cloak. It frightened her, but as the morning had worn on to early afternoon, and no great stir from the floors below was heard, the more her tensions eased. For if the Phantom had been found, and the girl returned to the Opera House, surely there would have been celebrating in the streets of Paris. But all seemed normal…quiet.
Meg sighed. What pained her to her core now, was that which she did not know. Raoul's hasty trip into the City, of his own volition in search of her, was flattering to be sure. But, where he had been before he'd arrived so oddly in her room, she did not know, and it frightened her. She'd run through the scenarios in her mind, trying to estimate how it had all played out. As nearly as she could estimate from the fragmented conversations between the doctor and DeChagny, Raoul would had to have arrived at the Opera House before Midnight. Yet, if he had done so, surely he would have found Madame Giry, Nadir, and herself in conversation over coffee and cake. But, if he'd traveled elsewhere first…trailed someone…or worse yet, ventured to the caverns below….she could not bear to think of such things. No, something had happened in those hours, something terrible that had caused Raoul to tear at his stitches, leaving him nearly at death's door for the loss of blood.
She was wringing her hands, unknowingly she'd knotted her dress into them as she'd come to sit in the small chair next to Raoul. She slowly inhaled, she could feel herself starting to breath rapidly. She'd have to learn how to contain this emotion, or it would get the best of her. She sat breathing in and out slowly, silently.
There was a faint knock at the door. Meg's eyes opened. Surely it was not her mother, nor Nadir, or Raoul's father, for they'd have let themselves in. Her pulse began to race. Surely Christine nor Erik would have, no…she couldn't think that way. They'd never be that foolish. Perhaps it was yet another messenger come to deliver some news.
She stood, glancing down at Raoul, and walked quietly over to the door. She opened it just slightly, looking out in curiosity. There before her stood a man she'd thought to maybe have seen a few times in her youth, yet he looked far too clean-shaven, too proper, to be who she thought. It was not until he bid her let him in that she knew for sure….it was the propsmaster, and he'd had something to share with her before the others returned.
XXXX
Erphan thought himself to be quite smart as he returned with a proper and hearty lunch. Two roasted chicken, popovers, potatoes augratin, a medley of green and waxed beans, a peach pie, plate of candied stemmed cherries dipped in chocolate, and several liters of fresh milk. It was likely to be their last meal there before returning to Chauesser, and he knew that the Monsieur would not be wanting to stop along the way for supper, for he was never one to dwaddle. He'd several large baskets, and though he was a young man, carrying them that far, heavily laden as they were, gave him an entirely new appreciation for the women he oft saw carrying baskets about. It was not as easy a task as one might think.
He'd rounded the corner, placing one of the baskets down in front of the door, rearranging the items in his arms, when a fluttering caught his eye. Had it not been the odd color, and the intrigue of what would be posted in such an obscure location, he'd have paid it no mind. But, he was the curious sort…perhaps it would be something of interest to the seamstress seeing as it had been posted not far from her shop.
He sat the items on top of the baskets, and wandered over to the paper, grasping it with his hand. His eyes quickly ascertaining that it was old, for it was weather-worn and faded. Perhaps it had just come loose from its hold. He began to scan it, yes, it was indeed old, months old now, it spoke of the great Opera House fire. He read part way down, through the details he'd already known. He'd take it with him, the lunch was even now cooling in the basket. As he removed it from the nails he looked closely at the picture, now well faded. His breath caught in his throat…it looked just like….he blinked several times…surely his eyes deceived him….no….he looked again…it looked very much like….he swallowed hard, looking around to see if anyone was watching as he folded the document and put it into his breast pocket, making his way rather hurriedly toward the door.
His pulse was racing as if he were hiding some great secret and he had to hide lest someone see him and he expose that which remained hidden. Once inside the door, he leaned his back against it heavily. He'd have to regain his composure before he ventured far, for if anyone stirred, he doubted he'd be able to contain the horror in his eyes. He shook his head as he made his way to the kitchen. Certainly there was some explanation; it simply could not be one in the same woman. There were many people who looked like one another; perhaps this was the case with Elizabeth. He'd talk discretely of it to the Monsieur when he woke. For now, he'd set about serving lunch.
Erphan brought the meal he'd fetched to the kitchen. He'd put portions on individual trays and deliver them. Certainly they may not be as hot as he would have liked, but they'd suffice. He was thankful the woman had a number of trays, no doubt she used them for entertaining the men and women that she sewed for when they waited. Just now it served his purposes well, for he'd need one for the woman, one for Stephan and Elizabeth, one for himself, and one for JP.
As he divided the food his heart was pounding, surely what he had in his breast pocket was merely coincidence. Surely they'd not have ventured back into Paris if it were true…and surely they'd be in hiding as far from the City as one could have found. And his master…a monster? He could not imagine it…it simply had to be a rather morbid coincidence and nothing more. He closed his eyes, though it was her very likeness, from what he could tell. Indeed, that would explain the long absences of the master of the house, and the arrival with the new and comely bride. But no, he shook his head, she seemed to love him dearly, seemed to be there very much out of choice, and certainly she'd have run when he'd been unconscious those months.
No, he'd not think of it, though now, more than ever, he wanted to have the City of Paris behind them, lest someone who did not share in his loyalties find them, and part them all, for making the same error of her identity that he had.
Having finished serving to the plates, he lifted the first tray. He'd bring it to the woman, gently waking her. She'd need to have something to warm her and something beyond the bits of dried fish she'd eaten last. Next the tray would be delivered to JP, and his own. Last, he sighed, last would be to Elizabeth and Stephan….he'd want just a moment alone with the Monsieur if he could find someway, for he had something beyond the meal to give to him.
XXXX
"But sir, we've no need to know, he's paid his bill in full, the lady was laid to rest today. He's taken care of not one but two funerals sir, at far more than our customary rate."
The young man was pacing back and forth. He'd often thought ill of this man to whom he was apprenticed, but he'd only had one year remaining before he'd be able to open a parlor of his own, or even take over the present one when the man retired. But today…the disagreement had nothing to do with the profession itself, yet his actions could have everything to do with his future there. He stood biting his lip looking away from the undertaker.
"You seem to be misunderstanding my words young man. I'm not merely asking you, I assure you." The undertaker stood staring at the young man though his back were turned. Surely he himself would be viewed with suspicion for poking around, but this young man…he was trusted and respected, as much as the apprentice to an undertaker would be. No…this young man would be able to wheedle the information he sought.
He straightened his back, leveling his brow. He was not being meddlesome. Quite the opposite. He viewed this as his civic duty. If there was a killer in their midst, even if disguised as a nobleman, the City of Chauesser had right to know of it! There had been great stories of all sorts of strange killing in Paris, in London…. No, it was his civic duty to be sure. And, if in all of this, if the man turned out to be of ill repute, then, the City of Chauesser would be indebted to him for pursuing it. If it turned out that this new man was indeed the bloodline of a noble brow, then he would rest in the knowledge that at least he had been the one to check, looking out for the welfare of the living citizens of Chauesser as well as the dead.
"Young man, I'm asking you to do nothing more than deliver this brief note, to tell the man that his accounts are clear, and thank him for his generosity. And…." He smiled nefariously, if you should happen to run upon that young woman…Misty was her name I believe, perhaps she will offer you some tea and the two of you could chat. Does that seem unpleasant to you in some way?" The undertaker continued to stare at the back of the young man, his head now hung.
"If that were your only intentions sir, I'd do it willingly, of that you can be sure. It is why you have me going there….it has nothing to do with my training. Are we not to respect the families of the dead?" The young man looked over his shoulder, certain that no matter what response he gave other than in the affirmative, he would be castigated for it.
The undertaker laughed, walking toward the young man, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Why yes, you are most correct….and in fact, that is what we would be doing. Do you not think that the families of these women found dead, this man the last to be with them, have a right to know with whom their loved one was crossed over from this world to the next? There is something far too odd about all of it. The circumstances, the timing, all leads me to only one conclusion, that he had something directly to do with their deaths, if they were not indeed caused from his own hand. Why else would he refuse the honor, the title hero…unless he had a guilty conscience?"
The undertaker had spun the young man around on his heels to look him in the eye. "Now, you may have the night, and the next day if you must, to prepare yourself for the task, but make no mistake, you will deliver this note, and have conversation with the young woman…." He paused, waiting for the young man to look up at him. "Is that understood?" He glared at him, the unspoken implication was clear, if he did not agree, it would cost him all of the work that he had completed in service there.
The young man was seething. Had he known that this man would be so dreadful, he'd have never agreed to be apprenticed here. Undertakers were a different breed of people, they had to be, but this one, he seemed to be less than human in his respect for the citizens he served. He fully understood with what great distain people looked down on this man, for now he himself felt the same and worse. "On the morrow then," was all he said. He'd neither given the man an affirmation nor a declination to his request. He collected his cloak and walked to the door. He so wanted to give the man a verbal lashing, and perhaps one day he would, but today…was not the day.
XXXX
Erphan lifted the first tray, his intent was to take it to the woman, but his mind bid him otherwise. His best hope to distract Elizabeth, allowing him opportunity to speak with Stephan, was in asking for her assistance. He walked down toward their room, intent on retrieving her. "Madame? Lady Elizabeth?" There was no response. He swallowed, his plan would only work if her were able to rouse her without having to enter the room they occupied. "Madame?"
Christine rose from the bed. She slipped on her robe, glancing back at Erik. He was staring at her through sleepy eyes. He lifted his head as if to speak. She put her finger to her lips indicating he should rest. Making her way to the doorway she parted the curtain just enough to peer out.
"Erphan? Is everything alright?" She looked down at the tray in his hand curiously, she'd not smelled scents of any cooking.
"Lady Elizabeth, I am sorry to disturb you. I am a bit perplexed. You see I'd gone out into the City to retrieve us a proper lunch…" his eyes were unconsciously wandering the woman's face, the resemblance to the picture was unnerving. He continued, "The lady slumbers, though I know she is in desperate need of a good meal. I am at a loss. I do not know how I might find her, and since she is without site, I fear that I might come upon her in less than proper attire and embarrass the both of us." He bit his lip nervously as Elizabeth's eyes searched his. "I know this is an imposition dear Lady, but would you be willing to take this into her chamber?" He nodded toward the tray.
Christine looked down at it, and then back up at Erphan, it was a reasonable request. She smiled, "I understand Erphan," she glanced over her shoulder at Erik. "I shall be back in but a moment my love." She turned back to Erphan, slipping from behind the curtains out into the corridor next to him, taking the tray from his hands.
The pair walked side-by-side down the hallway. "I shall retrieve a tray for you and the Monsieur, if it meets with your approval might I take it in to him while you deliver this tray?" Erphan looked at her hopeful that the quivering of his lips did not betray him.
Christine looked up and smiled. "That would be wonderful Erphan. I've given Stephan some tea, but I do think it would do well for him to have a more proper meal. He is awake, though groggy, do not expect him to be a conversationalist at the present, he is not feeling at all well." Christine smiled at Erphan as he left the hall into the kitchen. She'd continue on to the workshop where she'd seen the cot in the corner. Certainly the woman would be resting now, and being a woman herself, it would not be at all awkward to be awoken in one's bedclothes. She smiled; it had been very courteous and resourceful of Erphan to ask Christine to help.
Erphan was nearly tripping he'd grabbed onto the tray as quickly as he could, taking it down the corridor toward the room where his master lay. He'd have, he estimated, no more than a minute, perhaps two before Elizabeth would return, and he hoped that he would find the man awake lest he have to waste precious seconds trying to rouse him. He came to the room; he'd no time to acknowledge the proper formalities of entering one's chambers, he simply pushed the curtain aside, looking once more over his shoulder down the long corridor before he turned to see Erik half-risen on the divan.
"Young man, do you not understand the….." Erik went silent at the pleading and terrified look in Erphan's eyes as he sat the tray down in front of him on the table.
Erphan was trembling, nodding at Erik as he moved quickly over to Erik's side, kneeling down next to him. The closeness was a bit unnerving to Erik, but from the look on the young man's face, he'd no doubt there was something urgent that caused this most unusual behavior.
"Monsieur, I've but a moment until your wife returns. I will be brief. I went out into the City to retrieve a meal, and I happened upon this," his hands were trembling as he slipped his right hand into his pocket retrieving the carefully folded paper, handing it to Stephan.
"What is this?" Erik began to slowly unfold it. Erphan looked as though he would faint, his face having gone white. "Young man, sit down, you look as though you've seen a ghost, whatever could give you such…" Erik's eyes grew wide, and though later he would wish he could have concealed his reaction, the surprise and acknowledgement registered on his face, only confirming for Erphan, he was certain, that there was good cause to worry.
Erik pulled his fevered body upright. He had to think about this rationally. They were safe, no one had any reason to believe that they were there. He looked up at Erphan. His mind wild with fever, but knowing the young man could not easily be fooled. "Where did you get this young man?"
Erphan released the breath he was holding. "Outside on the post Monsieur." He looked at Stephan with curious eyes.
"And you think this is relevant to us?" Erik was pushing himself up further to a seated position, putting his legs over the side of the divan.
Erphan looked down at the floor, he really did not know what he thought, he only knew that it caused a great fear to rise in him. He looked at Stephan. "I know only sir, that if I made the error looking at your wife, then others might as well." He paused, "Sir, I know how you guard your privacy, and hate intrusions of any sort. If someone were to see your wife and mistake her for this woman," he nodded his head toward the paper Erik held in his hand, "there could be a great uproar in the City, much to your dismay sir." Erphan exhaled, he supposed that is what he feared most. The intrusion, the attention and trouble that it would cause all of them. He'd no doubt they wold be detained, pictures posted in the newspapers, and perhaps a week or more spent in judges chambers trying to convince a City desperate to have the mystery solved, that she was not the woman they sought, but rather the wife of Monsieur Courtland of Chauesser.
Erik stared at him. It was as if he could read the boys thoughts. "I understand." He looked down at the paper, folding it once more, handing it back to Erphan. "It is just as well we should be heading back to Chauesser. I'd only told the household we'd be gone a day, and already it has stretched into two." Erik was rising, a bit unsteady.
Erphan put his hand on Stephan's shoulder. "Sir, if you'd permit me to be so bold, I think it best now that we wait until the sky darkens again to travel. Perhaps after the sun sets, there would be less question. The streets are brimming and busy." He looked over his shoulder at the door, thankful that they'd had more than the few seconds to talk. "We will have need now to borrow the woman's carriage, if she will permit it. The City has been busily clearing the remainder of the snow from the streets, a sleigh will not make its way through."
Erik scratched at his chin. He felt dizzy and the chills had begun to set in again. He pulled the covers back around him. He sighed. "A carriage will never do when we leave the City Erphan, for surely the paths are still covered in snow there." He looked down, then back up at Erphan. "When you've finished your lunch, take the other young man, and go out for a walk on the streets behind the shop. There is a good chance, that because they are so infrequently traveled, that they'd have yet to clear them. We could depart the city from that vantage point, and though we would have to travel out and around the City, making our travels much longer, we might still be able to make use of the sleigh."
Erphan looked up at Stephan then toward the door once more. "That is a most wise thought Monsieur. And monsieur, no matter what the truth behind this," he patted his breast pocket where he'd redeposited the paper, "I want you to know that it is with you and your wife that my loyalties lay."
Erik swallowed hard. Perhaps his gut instinct of this boy had proven to be correct. He was far more than his unpolished exterior would have appeared. He nodded to him.
Erphan stood moving toward the door, "I shall see to your request straight away Monsieur," he said pushing open the curtain, nearly toppling Elizabeth with his hand. "Madame, I am terribly sorry, are you hurt?" Erphan was flustered, not knowing how long she had been there, he'd never heard even one step toward the room.
Christine laughed a little, "startled but fine sir. The woman bid me to thank you for the fine lunch sir, and said that if your friend is not awake, that you may dine with her if you like." Christine smiled at him, going over to sit on the divan next to Erik. She looked back and forth between the two men, having the distinct feeling she'd missed something.
"Thank you Madame, Monsieur," he said, bowing slightly at the waist as he left the room, the last glance between he and Stephan assured him that he would take care of everything.
Christine turned her attentions to Erik. "Now my husband, you've started to shiver again, you should lay down," she gently put her hand on Erik's shoulder to lean him back, but he resisted.
"No Christine, we've need to eat. I am hungry, and you most certainly have need for a bit more of a meal have you not?" Erik lied to Christine, he was far from hungry. It was both the fever, and the thought that Erphan somehow knew, that soured his appetite, but he would eat lest Christine not, and he worried for her, and for his children.
He smiled at her, "let us have this meal together my dear. Erphan thought enough of us to go out searching for it, the least we can do to repay him is to enjoy it." He lifted the first dome for Christine, a small bit of steam rising from it. It would not be long and it would be cold if they did not eat.
Christine smiled, perhaps a bit of chicken would do her well, though her eye, was as always these days, on the pie and chocolate covered cherries.
Erik cleared his throat, looking at Christine. "Not today my love, you'll be starting with the chicken."
That caused both of them to laugh, he knew what she wanted…and also what she needed. It was his turn to be the dutiful husband, just as she had been the dutiful wife.