Raoul thought himself to be dreaming. He could hear voices. Low voices, whispering. His mind was awake but his body would not do his bidding. Damned the infernal morphine. He longed to open his eyes, but try though he might, they remained as still as if certain death had paid its call. One voice, he was most certain was Meg's. He exhaled slightly in relief. If it were her voice, and not a dream, then the man had kept his promise and delivered him to the dormitories. The other voice, he strained to listen, though he could not focus well, he was certain was that of the propsmaster! Why would he have come, and why would he be speaking to Meg? His mind lumbered through his muddled confusion, though it felt like it was racing; liken to a horse cantering thinking itself to be in full gallop. He wanted so badly to speak, but it was as if he was screaming under water, and no one could hear him. For the first time in his life he understood the words…silent scream.
He sighed, a defeated sigh, as he heard the door close and latch, the man was gone. He listened as Meg whimpered, and began to cry softly. What had that man told her that stirred in her such grief, such fear? How he longed to reach out and offer her comfort, but alas he could not.
Raoul's thoughts turned to the time he'd spent with the man on their way to the surface. He could scarcely recall the trip itself, let alone what conversation had occupied them all the while; though he knew they'd spoken as they made the arduous journey from the lower floors. They'd stopped to rest several times, Raoul feeling week. The last he could recall with any clarity, was feeling arms scooping him up and flinging him over a shoulder, a man groaning heavily. He'd never seen the main level of the Opera House, nor anything more since then. He'd been in blackness for hours, and it felt as though he were destined to wander there for all eternity.
He listened as Meg cried mournfully. He could tell by her tone, that she was trying to stifle it, no doubt for his sake. Raoul really had no idea how long he laid and listed to the woeful tears before the room fell silent. He knew she was still there, though he could neither lift his head to look, nor open his eyes to see. All he could do is wait…patiently.
As time seemed to pass, and Raoul heard little if anything in the room, save the few shuddered breaths that Meg emitted. He considered heavily allowing his mind to go where his body was begging him. He'd sleep. It was what his body craved desperately, though his mind had refused to let him give in. It had nearly seemed an effort in futility, but he wanted to be there for Meg, no matter that she would not know it.
He lay a bit longer still, and then, redemption came. He felt Meg's hand on his forehead, her other on his shirt as she silently ran her hand along his collarbone. He relished her touch. It was the wanton touch of a woman that loved him, not of one who feared his closeness, nor had thoughts of another. Raoul's pulse quickened. If he could have at that moment risen, taken her into his arms in an embrace, he was certain that he would have asked her to be his wife. Oh how he ached now with the thought that he had tried to please everyone else, worry for everyone else, his father, for polite society. They loved one another, it was as obvious in her touch as it was in his heart. If only he could swim through this fog and find her, embrace her…he loved her.
Raoul was a man, and he loved this woman…this woman who was Meg. Oh how he hated this drug that took over the will of his mind and body. Surely there had to be some other concoction that the doctor could give him! After all, did he not understand what it did to Raoul? Nearly incapacitating him? When first he had opportunity, he would ask the doctor of it. Having no ability now to converse, he would relish the moments of her touch. What came next, Raoul would remember forever, though he would vehemently deny ever hearing it, for it would change his world, forever.
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The doctor had spent the entire day putting his house back in order. Yes, the neighbor, even through the storm, had dutifully come and built a small fire in the hearth each day to keep the contents of his house from falling prey to frost and the like. He'd have to remember to give them a gift of thanks. Yes, truly, he did give them whatever medical cares he could free of charge, but save the two babies he'd delivered for them, he'd not really done much in reciprocity, as they were a healthy lot.
He stretched out in front of the fire for his afternoon tea. He'd rest from his toils, read a bit, and have an early supper and then off to bed. On the morrow he'd be paying a call to Courtland Manor to check his patients. See how they had faired. Having arrived home and not finding any posts or notes, he assumed all was well there, or certainly Stephan would have sent for him, even at his sister's. Yes, it would be a relaxing evening, followed by a busy day, but he always liked those sorts of days.
As he rested in front of the fire, he thought of his sister, and his niece and nephew. They were wonderful budding new lives, so full of hope and promise. It was the part of his profession he enjoyed most…bringing life into the world. One day he too would have a family to return to, for now, he'd be content with a good book, and frequent visits to all of the children he'd delivered in recent months, and the parents of those who were yet to arrive.
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Sebastian and Pyotr emerged from their room, there destination was the mercantile, quite precisely the humidor. Rumor in the dining room at the inn was that several sleighs had arrived from Paris, carrying on them much needed supplies and coveted luxuries. The shelves would no doubt be stripped bare as soon as the shopkeeper could put the items on display. The mud that would come now, would be as debilitating to the deliveries from Paris as the snow had been, and it could be a week or more before another delivery would be made. Yes, there would be a swirling frenzy once the shop reopened after the afternoon tea, and they'd every intentions of taking full advantage of it.
There was a mere several weeks now before the celebration, and they wanted to be fully prepared for when it did. That would be the last they would travel to that house until it was abandoned for the summer. But what they had there now…that was being waited upon impatiently by the buyers.
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Nicole's mother smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. It was at the doctor's behest that she take a nap. He and Nicole would see to the dishes after lunch. She'd nearly fallen asleep when she heard Nicole open the pantry door to hang the dishcloths up to dry. She prayed that perhaps the time that Nicole and the doctor spent together would produce more than a friendship. A melancholy washed over her as she realized that perhaps it was in her death that she may have provided Nicole with the one thing she had deprived her of while she lived, an opportunity for a proper suitor. For there was little doubt in her mind that they would be spending a good deal of time with one another in the coming months, and there was little else that made the heart grow fond than spending time together.
XXXX
Nicole sat down on the divan in front of the fire, the doctor on the chair. They both stared into the fire, knowing what they talked about next could be overheard by her mother, so they would choose their words carefully.
Nicole smiled at him, glancing over his shoulder toward her mother's bedchamber. He nodded, it was understood. "Thank you…thank you for coming with us today." She said hesitantly, and then continued. "Thank you for being a support to my mother," she paused, smiling yet again, "and to me."
The doctor reached out taking Nicole's hand, squeezing it for just a moment, and then resting it back in her lap as he came to sit next to her. "Nicole, we have an arrangement do we not? I shall be there for you and your mother whenever you are in need of me."
His smile was a bit unnerving. Nicole felt her breath catch, and then chastised herself immediately. She needed to remind herself that this was an arrangement of convenience, and his friendly manner was part of the support he'd vowed to provide, nothing more. She looked up into his eyes for a brief moment before she looked away. Though if she let her imagination run away with her, she would have sworn she saw something more in his eyes.
She had a flash, for an instant she recalled so many years ago, a young woman all of sixteen standing in the rain under a shelter in the park, shivering cold. He had put his arms around her, it was then that she'd first seen him. He'd helped her under the shelter, offering to share his dry cloak. He'd been waiting there to meet his older brother who was just arriving by carriage from the University. He'd seen her from afar, running, which would have been considered very un-lady like in those days. She was trying to get in before the rains began, but alas she had been too late. He'd bid her join him under the shelter, it was just a shower, for the skies were blue about the edges, and the rain would quickly pass. She'd dodged under the awning and had been standing there shivering. It had been so natural…it all seemed so natural…
He'd leaned over and put his cloak around her. The warmth of his body immediately had comforted her. They stood in silence just watching the rain until the sun peeked through the clouds. She'd turned to look up at him, a sudden awareness that she'd been beneath the cloak of a young man who was an utter stranger, though she'd felt like she'd known him the entirety of her life. It was that very moment that pierced through her memory all these years later. He'd looked down at her and said the words that had nearly caused her heart to stop beating beneath her flesh.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?"
She smiled at the memory, though it was more bitter than sweet now. They'd been nearly inseparable for the next year. As spring came that year he'd asked for her hand in marriage, though not formally through letter of engagement, but they were very much in love. Then her grandmother had fallen ill, and she'd had to leave… She felt a great lump rising in her throat, and a hand on hers.
"Where did you travel off to just now Nicole?"
She looked up to see the doctor smiling compassionately at her. She shook her head, "I'm sorry, a memory. I'm dreadfully afraid that this will be an often occurrence these next days." She smiled coyly. "A memory from a long time ago." She was certain she'd need say no more. Under the circumstances, he'd likely assume that it was a memory of her grandmother.
The doctor nodded his head. "You looked so happy for a moment Nicole." He smiled at her, flashing his perfectly straight teeth, the blueness of his eyes twinkling in the light of the fire. "It was nice to see you smile," he ran his hand over hers, "you've a lovely smile".
What caused Nicole to swoon was the intensity of his gaze, though his words did nothing to dissuade her earlier thoughts. She was always the first to look away from their glances. "Yes, a happy one." She said looking down at her hands, his resting over them. She thought to herself….do you believe in love at first sight….though she'd not the courage to say it.
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"Very well my Lady." Andre said as he pulled the doors closed to the music room. He'd not time for another trip into Chauesser himself this afternoon. He'd all of the letters to write to the purveyors, the final lists to make. He'd fully prepared to travel into Chauesser on the morrow, but this afternoon, no, it just would not be possible. He was relieved that she'd agreed to allow him to write a note and send it on with one of the men from the stable.
He walked down the hallway to his own quarters, going in he closed the door. He removed his waistcoat hanging it on the hook by the door. He began rolling up his sleeves. With much writing to do, he'd not be taking chances of inking up his best shirt.
He'd never seen her so very insistent on paying a visit, but her logic was sound. She'd need to know a few things lest this new family not be treated with the same courtesies that all the other families of Chauesser had been. She preferred direct conversation with a family such as this, she'd not known if they'd an affiliation with any church, and she'd not rely on what gossip might tell her of the family. No, a personal visit was always preferred in situations such as this, and in truth, she was intrigued, curious, about the man. She could only imagine what he looked like, and she had want to see if her mental picture suited the truth.
If they were newlyweds she'd a cradle to purchase. Furthermore she wanted to know if they'd accept several fruit trees for their garden. Truly they'd not just built the house, but it felt as though it was a house newly occupied by the family, it having sat nearly vacant for as long as she could recall. Yes, those were valid questions indeed. But truly, he thought it to be her impatience gotten the best of her. She'd hoped to have received some reply by now, though Andre had warned her it may be days. She was an impatient sort when it came to her curiosity. She wanted a reply before the sun set. She very much wanted to meet this man and his young wife, and she would do so on the morrow unless they directly declined.
As he settled at his desk, the maid brought in some tea and a plate of the lunch he'd missed. He thanked her kindly and then asked her if she would be so kind as to summon the carriage driver, that he'd an errand for him. He'd pen his note before tending to his appetite.
Dear Monsieur Courtland,
Lady C would like very much to have a brief audience with you on the morrow. You may not be aware, but there is a rather large celebration that is just weeks off now. It would bring her much pleasure to include you and your wife, as well as your household in the festivities. If this note finds you to be unable to accept such a visit, please send reply with this messenger.
In sincerest regards, Andre
He quickly blotted it dry, tucked it in an envelope, sealing it with wax. The wax was barely set when the man came to the door to retrieve it.
"Now dear sir," Andre said as he handed the man the envelope, "this is to be delivered to the large white house on the other side of Chauesser, you know the place, the one where the family has just occupied," Andre paused, the man was nodding, he knew the house of which he spoke. "It must be opened by the household if the man is not there. If he is not there, ask when they will arrive, and wait for a reply before returning. Have you any questions?" The man shook his head no. "Then very well, be off. Do not tarry any longer than you have need to, Lady C will await the reply before she retires this evening."
The man nodded and departed. Andre turned around, placing a check mark on his list, that task was accomplished, now on to the other twenty or so he'd need to finish before night fell.
XXXXX
Erik had managed to coax Christine into eating nearly half of everything on her plate, along with a half-liter of milk. He himself had eaten a few bites of each thing, focusing primarily on the chicken for the saltiness was rather soothing to his throat. He'd no appetite, but he'd eaten in order that Christine would as well, and indeed she had.
He'd really no idea what to tell her, why the abrupt departure, and what it was that had caused him to feel less safe in that place after their hours of unguarded leisure there. Part of him wanted to be completely honest with Christine, and part of him wished he could protect her from it all. If she never knew what Erphan had found, then she would never have to play along, she could continue to behave as she always had, thus making Erphan believe that it was a coincidence that she resembled the girl from Paris. On the other hand, if he did not tell her, and Erphan began asking questions of her, or somehow revealed it to her himself, then it may give her a fright causing her to say or do something she would later regret, or worse, cause her to faint. It was a difficult decision. He looked at her several times, just watching her. She was as beautiful and innocent as he could imagine her, and he'd no wish to disturb her temporary happiness, but alas, he knew that he must.