"No Nadir, we must not…." Erik's voice muddled into a mere groan as he rolled over. He'd been dreaming of Nadir visiting them at Courtland Manor. Spring was in full bloom, and so was Christine. She'd fallen asleep under the shade of a large flowering branch, a glass of chilled jasmine tea with slices of lemon floating on the top like lily pads, sat on the small table next to her. She was in a lovely flowing pink summer dress, the tresses of her hair pulled back with a long white silk ribbon. Her cheeks were full and a blushing pink, as much from the extra blood that flowed through her veins, as the reflection of the dress that she wore. Erik could hear Nadir chuckling.
"She looks like a sleeping water sprite Erik! Just one little tickle with this feather beneath her nose…"
Erik could hear his own voice, "she is so tired Nadir, her time grows close at hand, let her rest while she can. Rest at night has become rather difficult. She is so warm, and finding a comfortable position has become complicated. Let her rest while she might. No doubt the gentle breezes from the sea have lulled her to sleep." Erik could feel a smile cross his face. He knew himself to be dreaming, but it was so pleasant there, he could not help himself. It was like peeking through a worm hole into their future life.
"Oh my dear Erik, soon your house will be full enough, you won't even miss my visits over the winter months."
In his dream Erik could see himself nodding. "I've no doubt that Christine and I will be quite occupied when the children arrive. I'm determined to help her all that I can." Erik's face grew sad. "In all that I've read on the subject, the truth is that I've yet to touch the flesh of a young child, nor hold a baby in my arms." He smiled, a wave of tears growing in his eyes. "How very strange and wonderful that the first I shall hold will be that of my own!"
Nadir chuckled. "Erik, this business of having triplets, how could one ever be so blessed! It is just like you though…whenever you'd made up your mind to do something…."
Erik saw himself laughing. This world of dreams was so very odd. It gave one opportunity to see oneself as others might. This dream world so very often deviated far from the truth; bordering on the fantastic and surreal, to morbid and terrifying. Still in his dream, whenever he saw himself, he wore his mask. It puzzled him. Why when he'd known of the alterations of his flesh, did he still dream of himself in a mask? He did not know, save the thought that perhaps it would take a good long while for his mind to accept the fact he was changed, if it ever would.
He huffed, rolling over again. He'd a chill run through him, and it wasn't from inside but from outside. The cooling of his sweat-soaked clothing that clung to him had begun to chill his skin. He'd felt a draft, but wondered to himself if it was all part of the dream….an extension of the sea breezes he could see swirling around Christine's fairy-like frame as she slept. Then he heard footsteps in the hall; soft footsteps, as one might make if one were wearing only stockings. He knew Christine had put on a pair of shoes before she ventured out to tend to their arrangements, so it shan't be her. Then he heard muffled voices in the adjoining room. It was Erphan returning with his report he surmised. Stretching, yawning, he batted his eyes as he opened them; though they fought vigorously to stay closed. All hope of returning to the most pleasant dream now vanished, for reality returned whether one wanted it to or not.
He'd come to the art of eaves-dropping quite naturally. Perfecting it through years of reluctant practice. The first he could recall doing it, was when he would sit by his darkened window as the woman slept, listening to the children play outside, and to the conversations of men and women on the floors below. Her stern warning to be silent left him with little alternative but to listen during those hours…it had been his only connection with the world outside his cloistered existence. Though the memories of those years remained vague, the skills he learned, reading, writing, and listening, were firmly in tact.
It was when he traveled with the gypsies that he'd truly honed his acute listening skill. It was only through their conversations that he knew to whence they traveled. It had taken a long while to learn their language. It was akin to French, but a strange divergence, almost a sub-dialect. Blending a bit of English, and what he assumed, from what he later read, to be Italian. By the time he'd traveled with them in the third winter, he'd nearly become fluent in this odd verse. Through this he had learned much about geography, and about the heartless and ruthless ways of men. Life had trifling value in their world, and least of all those within their clan, such as he, that were little more than dogs to be exploited.
In truth, this acquired skill of patient, attuned listening, had likely saved his life on more than one occasion. In Persia it had helped he and Nadir plan their escape. In the Opera House it had alerted him when searches were to be conducted. And today, he made use of the skill, merely because he could. Though he'd become fond of Erphan, his youth could make him overly eager to please his master and mistress, agreeing that there was a path for them to travel, only to find themselves quite stuck in the middle of the country, with no help, and the danger of being truly discovered.
He listened for a long while as the he heard the men rummaging about in their bags, for what he couldn't imagine. Were they packing? Erik sat up, as if to rise, he would not be the last to be ready. Then Erphan began to speak.
"You will need to dress in your warmest. If he should decide to tarry in Paris, you will take the horse and travel back to the winter house. I will remain at their service here."
"But Erphan, you have been to Paris on a number of occasions, do let me stay in their service if they should decide to remain. I could be most helpful, and would not at all mind having opportunity to see a bit more of the City itself when I'm given time for leisure." JP said imploringly.
Erik could hear scuffling of feet, and a small scrape of the legs of chairs on the wooden floor.
"You and I are but a few years apart JP, and in truth, I've just begun my true service to our Monsieur, but let me give you a word of advice. When we travel with the Monsieur and his wife, we are always at their service. Even now as we sit in this room, we are at their service. The very fact that we were permitted to travel about Paris was at his behest to help the woman with whom we've stayed. True duty is best conducted with the knowledge that one is always at the service of their master unless specifically instructed otherwise. One must always have the sense that at any moment their service could be petitioned, and be ready to respond accordingly. To anticipate the needs of those in whose service you are indebted, is the attitude one must take if one is to be considered faithful and loyal. For us JP, there is no higher honor than to be trusted, and trusted implicitly." Erphan paused. "Until such time as you can come to this knowledge, embracing it as your own, you must bide your time, and do what is bid you."
Erik was smiling. Somewhere this young man had learned a lesson that some twice or even thrice his age never had. How sage a man he already was. Erik could only imagine this young man was very much a shadow of what Nadir had been like in his youth. It boded well for his grooming in the faithful service of his family. There were few Erik trusted as he trusted Nadir, and perhaps he never would, but what he'd learned of Erphan so far, inclined him toward the possibility.
"Erphan, what think you that he will do?"
"I do not presume to know his intentions. I know that he shall want to protect his wife, providing for her every comfort. I shall quite simply speak to him of what we've seen, the conversations we had with those that had traveled into the City, and let the Monsieur decide for himself. That is why I've told you to be ready. No matter what his decision, you will be leaving here this night. And now with the threat of Crawlings gone from Paris, travel along the road will be much less fearful a trip."
Erik's breath caught in his chest. What had they heard?
"Erphan, do you believe it? An aristocrat, truly, wouldn't he have had someone in his service see to the disposal of such a threat? Why would he knowingly put himself in harms way when he'd nearly an army of faithful staff who'd have done so for him?"
"It is odd, I would agree, but as I recall from what Nadir has said of the family which Meg and Madame Giry have been staying with, it might not be as unusual as one might think. The elder man is given to boasting, so perhaps there is an arrogant vein in the family that would compel one such as he to strike a killing blow, if for nothing more than the bragging rights."
Erik leaned back against the divan. So word had spread in Paris already. He shook his head. It was the one thing that perplexed him most about people, why did they hunger so for such fodder for gossip? No doubt it had emanated from the undertaker's office, or the police. He looked down, his eyes nearly boring a hole in the floor. He huffed. Of course DeChagny would be exceedingly proud of a son who'd rid Paris of an arch-criminal remnant of a family. It would only further the man's pompous haughtiness. Oh what egos some men had. Erik shook his head. So many thinking themselves to be such an important cog in the wheel of a City the likes of Paris!
He listened as the young men finished their conversation about what was to be packed, and what JP would take with him if he were to leave. It was nothing of consequence, and Erik could feel the pull of sleep dragging him unwilling back into slumber. Christine had indeed bid him rest, so he fought it no longer and allowed his eyes to fall closed.
XXXX
The woman began to chuckle under her breath. Christine's eyes lit up, "a memory perhaps?" Oh how she longed to hear a story…a story of something good that may have happened in Erik's life…there had been far too much tragedy and loss.
"A memory indeed." The woman mumbled as she removed the last pin she held between her lips, sliding it into place in the fabric. "There. That is ready to be cut, but let us have some tea first shall we?" She smiled in Christine's direction.
Christine smiled and happily took the woman's arm. "I'll retrieve the tea," she said softly.
"Nonsense, we can go together my dear." She patted Christine's hand. "I can see why he loves you my dear, you are certainly as sweet as the morning dew!" She laughed, as they began to walk out of the room and toward the kitchen. "That is what he always said of you!" The woman smiled, Christine was blushing. "That and that you were like manna from heaven, the food of the God's and the only nourishment his soul would ever have need or want for."
A great tear grew in Christine's eyes as they walked down the hall. He'd described his love for her with such words…it was beyond flattering. "I'm quite afraid he held far too high an opinion of me, I was but a…" Christine caught herself, nearly saying she was mere opera rat…! The conversations with this woman were so genuine and natural, she'd been lulled into a warm security nearly exposing herself. She sighed, quickly finishing, "I was but a mere girl, nothing out of the ordinary when he found me."
"I beg to differ with you my dear child. You altered his life forever. Before he spoke of you, his spent his time talking of wishing for death, of being spared, of finding redemption from this perdition he felt had befallen him. Would that it be that he'd never met you, I do not know what would have become of him! And I must say, you have had a most pleasant affect on me. It has been a long while since I'd had such pleasant company my dear."
Christine patted the woman's arm as they turned into the kitchen. "That is only because you've yet to see my rather childish side, I do most certainly have my flaws, in spite of what Stephan may have told you." They both laughed as the woman filled the nearly empty kettle on the stove, setting it to boil.
"Come, come, have a seat." The woman was saying as she patted the table with her hand searching for the chair. No doubt it was not in its customary place, for the woman grimaced. Surely order was an important part of managing one's life if you'd no benefit of sight. No doubt Erphan or JP had moved the chairs about when they'd been in the kitchen.
Christine moved forward guiding the woman's hand to the chair. "Thank you my dear." She said smiling at her. "Now, I do believe, unless those young men have displaced it, there should be a jar with some cookies in it. Do you like ginger snaps?"
Christine smiled, she had enjoyed them so. It was one that they baked during the holidays, filling the house with such wonderful scents. "As a matter of fact, I do enjoy them very much, they remind me of being a young child." Christine lifted the jar down from the shelf bringing it to the table. "Would you mind telling me…telling me another story about Stephan?"
The woman smiled, dipping her hand in the jar, retrieving a cookie putting it on the plate Christine had set in front of her. "A story," she sighed, a grin on her face. "There are so many to choose from!" She laughed. "Let me see…"
Christine sat in eager anticipation. No matter the subject, nor situation, it would be part of Erik's past that she could share in, the mere thought of it thrilled her.
"Very well then," she settled in her chair as they waited for the water to boil. "It was a summer night. It had been so very hot that day." She closed her eyes and shook her head as she recalled it, though the wide smile that crossed her face assured Christine that it would be a good story. "It was one of those sweltering days when even sitting still one is dripping wet. The sun shone brightly that day, and everyone was thrilled, it had ended a two week period of rains every day. Paris had become a pig pen, full of mud on all but the cobblestone streets, and even they were muddy from the wheels of wagons! I guess it was no different for the City than this great snowstorm, perhaps that is what made me think of it!" She laughed. "My shop was not, let us say, a favorable place to be trying on and off dresses nor clothing, so though I had plenty of work to keep me busy, I'd not had company for several days. I simply worked until I was tired, rested and started again. I really didn't know what time of day it was, nor how many days had passed, I worked and slept and so on. Needless to say, I'd grown quite discombobulated without some sort of structure, but who was I to care as long as I'd their jobs ready for fitting when they came?" The woman laughed again as she leaned her ear toward the stove. The water was just starting to heat up in the kettle, as it had begun to tink and pop. Tea was still a few minutes off.
Christine wondered where in the world this story was going. But she listened patiently.
"I don't now, as I've said, what time it was, except that it was very quiet, and I assumed it was nightfall because he never traveled by light, why I've no idea." The woman said so casually.
Christine grimaced, if only the woman had known.
"I was bent over a garment, sweating so much I nearly worried I'd stain the fabric, when I heard the knock at the back door. I knew it was him, for who else would it be?" She laughed. "I went to the door, and sure enough, there he was. The dear soul put something cold into my hand. Where he'd gotten it, I don't know, but he'd brought a jar of chilled peaches, and some other awful salty…"
"Fish, it was fish I'm certain." Christine recalling the first meal he'd shared with her. She shook her head, oh how she remembered the appearance of it. But to this woman that wouldn't have mattered.
"Yes, I do believe you are right. Do not tell me he has fed you that as well?"
"I regret to tell you, that is in fact, the very first meal we shared. It left me wondering about his food preferences!" Christine joked, though she knew it was more out of necessity than it was likely his preferences.
"You poor dear, he's fortunate that you did not send him to the curb from the first!" The woman laughed. "So in he came, peaches, fish, biscuits and all. He'd come for a night's visit he'd said, to finish one painting. We sat in the parlor talking and eating until we were full. There was no breeze to speak of, so having the windows open were of little help, all we could do is sweat." The woman began to chuckle.
"I shan't really recall the exact details that led to it, but it wasn't long before we were in the basement in the wine cellar. He'd brought down a kerosene lamp, so he could see, muttering, as I recall, that tidying that room would be our next project when he'd come for a longer visit. Well, we sat until we cooled. The cellar was a wonderful place to go when it was so very warm. With little to do but sit…he never like to be idle then…" the woman said shaking her head. "That poor man never seemed to rest! There was quite a collection of wine in the cellar. Mostly gifts I've received over the years for holidays and gratuities from loyal patrons. He decided that they should at least be organized. I'd the racks for them, why not make use of them was his logic." The woman was smiling.
Christine smiled too. It was just like Erik to do something like this. Even as her tutor he was organized and methodical.
"We were there for I'm quite certain hours. It was so very comfortable, and we knew what awaited us when we went upstairs, so we tarried. He sorted out first the reds from the whites. Then by region until I laughed at him, then he changed his mind, sorting it by year. The whites were in order of the oldest to the youngest, the reds, from youngest to the oldest. He took me to the racks taking my hands to show me the differences. I humored him though I knew I'd never venture down to retrieve it. For what good is wine drunk alone? I never entertained! But I humored him, in truth I enjoyed the company."
Christine smiled touching the woman's hand as she rose to retrieve the kettle that had just begun to boil. "I've no doubt he enjoyed the company as well." Christine thinking that to be the end of the story. "Tell me another?" She asked as she poured the water into the teapot she'd already lined with a tea ball and several slices of orange and a cinnamon stick from the jars on the woman's counter.
"Another, I've not yet finished this one!" The woman laughed again as Christine resettled into her chair. "He was perplexed as to what to do with the bottle of red he'd not room for. He didn't want to put it on the rack with the white, but neither did he want to put it on the floor next to the rack, lest it be toppled over by accident and break. I suppose it was only the natural solution, but we both happened upon the only suitable one, and that was to drink it. He went upstairs to retrieve several glasses, while I cleaned with my apron the old cork-screw that he'd found hanging on the end of the rack."
Christine was smiling widely. By the glimmer in the woman's eye, this is where the real story began.
XXXX
Meg sat with Nadir in her mother's bedchamber. "Nadir, whatever are we to do? Can it be possible?" She was nearly inconsolable.
Nadir himself was as unnerved as he had ever been. How would Erik have ever have found himself in such a state? He was a careful calculating man. He knew how to travel without detection. Perhaps it was as Nadir had feared, living among gentle creatures where he'd no need to hide, had dulled his keen senses, thus making him vulnerable.
He shook his head. "Meg, whatever we do, we must think of ourselves now. Erik would have wanted it no other way. If it has happened as we fear, then Erik had no choice, and he'd be all the more distraught if he thought for one moment that our lives would be in jeopardy because of his discovery."
He took Meg's hand into his, running the other under her chin. "Child, Erik and I, years ago came to an understanding." Nadir's lips began to quiver as he recalled this most sacred pact. "If one of us were caught, and there hope of neither rescue nor escape, the other was to walk away, disavowing all knowledge of the other's existence, no matter the consequence. For it was better that one was able to be free, than both to be dead."
Nadir's eyes were filled with tears as Meg looked up at him. He took her into an embrace, crying, for the first time in a very long while. He'd never shared this fear nor pact with anyone else. Yet, somehow, he and Meg had grown a bond with the sharing of fiercely guarded secrets. His shoulders shook as Meg began to run her hand along his back, trying to comfort him.
"Nadir, I can assure you that you meant a great deal to Erik, though you likely knew that already. He was a fine man…" Meg's own voice cracking in emotion…was she already speaking of him in past-tense?
The two sat, holding one another shedding tears. There were no solutions now. Everything they thought would one day bring them together. The notion that Erik and Raoul were brothers, Erik finally finding a parent…all the other mysteries that they suspected…now laid to waste. What tragedy had fallen when they were so very close to such potential happiness.
"Nadir? Meg?"
They both turned, the voice breaking the temporary shroud they'd pulled around themselves in their grief. Meg rose, wiping her eyes and her cheeks.
"Mother?"
"There the two of you are!" Madame Giry said as she came into the room, her smile quite quickly growing to a frown. "Whatever is wrong? Is it Raoul?" She glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected the doctor to be standing there with sad news.
"Mother, no, did you not hear the chanting?"
Nadir rose taking Madame Giry's hand leading her to the edge of the bed. "Oh Antoinette!" He said, trying to stave off a fresh wave of tears.
She looked bewildered, "chanting, yes, that is why I came looking for you, is it not wonderful?" She smiled and winked at Nadir.
Nadir's mind reeled what was this happy sentiment? She clearly misunderstood.
"All of Paris is in the streets celebrating! Raoul DeChagny is most certainly the man of the hour my dear. His father has gone down to make a statement to those gathered in the courtyard. He's no intentions of letting them know that Raoul is here. He wants his son to be fully recovered before he greets the public, though I do think this is the first time I've seen the man's chest swell in honest pride!"
Meg felt faint again. Could her mother be quite mad? "Mother, do not tell me that you celebrate in this folly! When our very happiness has been dashed?" Meg's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"Why are the two of you so sullen? Paris is overjoyed at being rid of that beast!"
Meg's mouth flew up over her mouth as she leaned heavily back into Nadir's arms.
"Nadir, I thought you would be thrilled with the news. It will work quite nicely for our plans do you not think?"
Nadir blinked, blinked again. His mind was swirling. Suddenly a look of sheer epiphany overcame him. He turned taking Meg's chin into his hand. "My dear young lady, I fear we have made a most egregious error.
Meg looked into Nadir's eyes. The relief she saw in them both baffled and comforted her. "Nadir?"
Madame Giry came to kneel before the two of them, taking one of each of their hands into hers. "The city of Paris is celebrating the death of the last of the Crawlings family." She looked at the two, suddenly realizing, that they had been under a distinctly different impression.
Meg's chest rose in a giant sob, changing to laughter. She turned in Nadir's arms, flinging her arms about his neck, kissing him on the cheek, laughing as she nestled her head on his shoulder.
Nadir laughed heartily too, though he wanted to cry out of relief that it had not been so. As he held Meg, their laughs utterly confusing Madame Giry, Nadir thought to himself, this is what it must feel like to have a daughter. He kissed her cheek as he smiled at Madame Giry. He was nearly certain that was the very thought that ran through her mind. Meg had been too long without the love of a father.