Chapter 203 Unexpected

Dear Faithfuls: It seems that I have been doing a considerable amount of apologizing lately! This chapter will be a bit rough around the edges, as I've just received word of a family emergency that will keep me away from everything again now until Sunday. I hope that you can understand and bear with me.

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Erik and Christine lay in each other's arms listening to the thunder rolling outside. Erik reached over smoothing his hand over Christine's abdomen. She smiled at him, their hands joining, fingers intertwining as they came to rest on Christine's navel.

Christine exhaled slowly rolling over the remainder of the way so she lay on her back. Her elbow bent, she slid it up behind her head, pushing the hair away from her neck. She was so very warm.

Erik gently dabbed his fingers above her brow; it was damp with beaded sweat. "The cooling breezes will come soon enough Christine, once the storm waivers." He smoothed his hand over her forehead, tracing the side of her cheek with the back of his forefinger. He ran it down her chin, onto her neck, over her collarbone, tracing her outline until his hand came to rest once more over her stomach. He smiled as he looked at the growing swell in Christine's middle. It was always evident now, but never more so than when she lay on her back, her flesh exposed to his eyes.

What a marvel it was to partake of this process…this creation of life. The perception of it was much altered when one could watch the progress, day-by-day, the changes in the mother's body. It stretched and grew to provide safe haven for the lives growing within her womb. Erik's only point of reference for the discomfort he imagined Christine felt, was his own experience with an injured limb when it would swell. Flesh having to make way for the flesh…he couldn't imagine it would be comfortable for her, though she never complained. Erik's eyes wandered Christine's frame, taking in the utter beauty of it. Not in a way a man is pleased with a woman, but at the sheer beauty of God's creation, it truly was a magnificent.

Erik looked up as Christine moved her arm beneath her head, lifting her hair once more, fanning her neck with it before bringing her head to rest on Erik's forearm. He smiled. Her tolerance for heat had rapidly diminished as her mid-section had grown. Her cheeks were a bit fuller, and a much improved rosy glow was nearly always in them. The doctor had assured he and Christine that this was a good sign, one of a healthy mother. Christine exhaled again, a sheen growing on her skin. Erik looked at her face. Her eyes were half-closed, and he'd no doubt if it were not for the rumble of the thunder, and the heat that settled upon her, she'd already have made her way off to sleep.

Erik smiled, inhaling, then blowing gently across Christine's forehead and neck. She exhaled, "that is wonderful Erik, simply wonderful." He smiled, and over the next half- hour Erik found himself cooling Christine's too-warm flesh with the gentle breath from his lungs. She'd smiled until at one point her face began to lose expression. Erik was entirely pleased with himself; she'd fallen asleep.

He laid his hand gently over her stomach. Beneath the surface Erik could see what he could only assume to be limbs moving, pressing against the wall of her flesh as though it could reach right through the navel into the outside world. His eyes welling with pride, he brought his lips close to flesh that moved while Christine slept. He began to gently hum. Slowly but surely, with his had resting over her stomach, he began to sing, quietly, gently. The moving slowed, and eventually quieted. He face reflected the joy he felt, his eyes beaming with undulating adoration. He'd spent time alone with his child, sharing his music with her in her mother's womb, and he'd done so without waking Christine. He smiled again, coming to rest next to her, taking her sleeping form carefully into his arms. It had been a good afternoon. If it gave way to evening even now, he'd consider it a day well spent.

In the distance, the thunder rolled, and just outside the ornate window pane that was partially open, Erik could hear the patter of a gentle summer's rain. Soon the air would cool, and the warmth from the small fire might very well be welcome comfort.

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Lady C nodded as the maid came to retrieve the tray, and glasses they'd emptied. She and Andre had visited all afternoon, talking of serious things, and those much less so. She'd a specific parcel of land in mind. At present it was in the corner of Chauesser beyond which lay rich soils, and several natural orchards. It was perhaps not the first place one might look to build, but as with so many other thing, she was often the only one that saw the potential of the un-groomed beauty of it. Andre knew it well, and agreed that with some work, a house could be erected there. There was certainly enough land, and because of its proximity to the edge of the City it would provide him with access to Lady C's should the need arise.

"Now Andre, there are several carpenters in the City, and I've no doubt they could do a most splendid job. Perhaps you could arrange for a meeting." She moved about slightly in the chair looking off in the distance. She could see the dark ridge of what appeared to be a storm front far off on the horizon. "It looks as if a storm is brewing there," she said nodding her head in the direction of the smoky ridge of distant clouds.

Andre nodded. "Yes, it will no doubt be an evening of interest. Perhaps we should head indoors. The windows should be prepared if there is a storm coming." Andre stood, extending his arm to Lady C. She rose, accepting it graciously. As they began to stroll towards the house he said, "I'll send someone back for…" and as if by magic the maid had appeared, platter in hand to retrieve the dishes.

"Andre, I should think you'll want at the very least two stories, and five bedrooms, perhaps six." Lady C was beginning to imagine what he might need. Encouraged by the fact that he'd professed his interest in a young woman whom it seemed was fortunate to be in the service of another fine family.

Andre laughed. "If I may say so, dear Lady, I've just come to accepting the consideration of such things," he coughed, "of all this would entail and imply." He smiled as Lady C patted his arm. She understood, though he knew she was a woman who once set upon an idea, saw it through to the finish. The subject would no doubt become part of daily conversation until the last curtain was hung in the window, and pot of flowers sat by the door.

"Yes of course Andre, I might be getting a bit ahead of myself." She smiled up at him, realizing she'd been doing much more of that these last months. "It could go without saying that a lady might very much like to have some say in the way in which her house were to be built!" She smiled again, patting his arm once more. She was, as always, forward in her words….and Andre knew that better than anyone else. DeChagny rose from his tea in the Opera House. There had been such a fuss outside, he wondered if more of Raoul's undying admirers had come again to pay homage to the man they knew quite well was not there. Whilst he had to admit he was indeed proud of his son, and it certainly did not hurt the name of DeChagny, he'd grown somewhat tired of the attention, nearly wishing they'd withdraw until such time as Raoul returned to Paris. As he made his way down the marble stairs he was met by Nadir and Madame Giry.

"What is the commotion, do not tell me that they've…" his voice dropped off, it was not as he had assumed.

Nadir shook his head. "It is the death of the City's great story teller I'm afraid sir. They found Dickens dead this very day." He said as he and Madame Giry nodded in greeting to the DeChagny.

"I see," DeChagny said scratching at his chin. He himself was not a literary buff, nor was he inclined when he did read to read fiction, if he read fiction, it was certainly not that of any of the contemporaries. "I suppose it is a great loss for the citizens who appreciate that sort of thing." He nodded, feigning concern.

Madame Giry pursed her lips looking down. The man obviously had never read one of Dickens novels, for if he had, he would not greet such news with such flippancy. "He was a brilliant literary, he shall be sorely missed.'

"Yes, yes, of course." DeChagny paused for a moment. He inhaled, turning to face Nadir. "I trust that everything is in good order for your journey on the morrow then good sir?"

Nadir winced. He'd not had opportunity to broach this very subject with Antoinette. He turned to her. Her face was stoic. "Yes sir, I leave by carriage just after breakfast. And may I thank you for your generosity, it was truly not necessary for you to offer your carriage."

DeChagny's chest swelled with pride, "nonsense. I'll not have the Opera Populaire historian traveling in some non-descript carriage. It is a lengthy journey, and you'll have need to be comfortable." Secretly he wished he'd be joining Nadir on the journey. He so wished to walk the streets of Chauesser once more, if but for a brief journey down memory lane. But there was no plausible reason that he'd have need to go.

Madame Giry, as politely as she could excused herself. "Monsieur," she nodded at DeChagny, "Nadir," she nodded. "Good afternoon to you gentlemen." She turned and ascended the stairs.

DeChagny watched as Madame Giry made her way up to the landing and on to the long corridor that led to the upper chambers and chorus dormitories. He turned to Nadir. "She is quite a strong woman is she not?" He smiled' expecting Nadir to agree, before DeChagny changed the subject.

"She is a rare treasure sir. I shan't hope to have offended her." Nadir said watching as the last of her skirt disappeared down the hall. He turned to DeChagny. "I'd not yet told her of my journey. You see we've kept the schedule of dining you'd requested at the Starboard, and so to be without a dinner companion, she likely will not venture out. I'd planned to tell her this afternoon, but then with the commotion caused by Dickens' death, it never seemed to make it to discussion."

DeChagny glanced down smiling to himself. Nadir's affections for Madame Giry were certainly not a well-kept secret, and anyone that knew her could tell by looking at Madame Giry that the feelings were mutual. "Nadir, do not worry, she hardly seems the sort to hold a grudge." He fidgeted with his pocket watch before adding further, "if it is her dinner companion that you worry for, I can make arrangements to dine with her at the very least thrice the week you are absent."

Nadir instinctively felt a twinge of jealousy, quickly dismissing it as utter foolishness. "If she is so inclined, and you've the time sir, it might very well give you and she opportunity to discuss the future of your children." Nadir rubbed his chin, he'd been meaning to ask. "How has Raoul faired at your summer retreat?" he paused, "have you a sense for when he might be returning?" Nadir wished very much that he might have opportunity to visit with Meg when he returned to Paris. He'd not seen her in months, and he was confident his visit to Chauesser might very well produce something that the pair could put together as a piece of the elaborate puzzle.

"I'll have a better sense of things on the morrow. I'm going to dine with them this evening." DeChagny glanced down at his pocket watch. "In fact I ought to be leaving momentarily if I've any hope of arriving in time for dinner." He smiled at Nadir. "Is there anything my friend that I might do for you before your journey?"

Nadir shook his head to decline. "I've everything I need. I plan to return to Paris with as much information as I might find." Nadir thought to himself, even more than DeChagny could ever imagine.

"I best be on my way Nadir. Do take care of yourself. Do not worry for Madame Giry, I shall send her dinner invitations during your absence. I shall look after her whilst you are gone. Indeed, she and I should spend time discussing Meg's progress. She's become quite the student." DeChagny nodded and left.

Nadir looked up at the stairs. He needed to go to her, explain to her that he'd intended to tell her. He'd not wanted her to find out in such a way. He'd no doubt she would be understanding, though no doubt her feelings would be wounded. They'd spent at least a portion of day with one another since Meg had left. When Nadir left the City, Madame Giry would be alone, and that no doubt would be what would cause her the greatest grief.

He sighed as he began the climb. He'd apologize first for the delivery of such news by someone other than himself. Then he would begin the long explanation of the hows and why's, and in this case more specifically the were. That would matter to her as much as anything else.

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In the lower levels of the Opera House the propsmaster rested from his toils of the day. He'd toiled for hours a day the last four weeks, creating props of all sorts for what was to be the production to end all productions. It would be grand, and the illusion that things were larger than life itself was center point in the focus of set design. Tonight he'd be taking his dinner as usual by himself. Tonight reading would include something from a selection of cook books. Though the agreement had been fulfilled weeks before, the woman had continued to come each Sunday evening for dinner. As of yet he'd not repeated any course, and now he'd a reputation to keep, if only for one person. They'd grown rather close during the last visits. It was somehow the fact she'd continued to come after her sentence was complete, that said far more about her character than any words might use. He'd already served pork, and beef of several varieties. He smiled as he turned the page. There before his was a whole

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Raoul and Meg rose from their reading when Madeline came into the library to announce that dinner was to be served. Tonight they were expecting that Raoul's father would visit, but he'd yet to arrive. Perhaps he'd come fashionably late, taking in the main course and dessert, in lieu of starting with the delicate salad of blue cheese, pears, and the tender greens that had been picked from the garden that afternoon.

"Meg, I do wish you'd read something a bit lighter now and again. My sister has brought you countless things to read of ladies fashion, and you've yet to make any selections." Raoul said to her as he escorted her at a meandering pace out into the corridor that led to the dining room. He glanced at her, the turn of her head told him they'd already discussed this issue.

"Raoul," Meg said, smoothing her hand along his arm, "you've already given me so many lovely dresses, some I've not even had opportunity to wear! Would it not seem wasteful to buy yet more when all of these are still in fine condition?" She glanced at his smiling face, though the disappointment was difficult to conceal.

Raoul pulled out the chair for Meg, sliding it in underneath her as she pulled the layers of her dress from the back of her. "It is simply that, my dear…." Raoul hesitated as he walked the few steps to where his chair had been pulled out for him, and took his place as properly as ever at the other end. "Women in Paris, they tend to…things seem to last no more than a season, and I want you not to feel slighted in any way when return to the City." He exhaled. This was difficult for Meg, he knew.

"My dear Raoul, I'd not want you embarrassed of me, if that is the case my love…" she turned her head down looking at the napkin that Madeline had laid across her lap.

Raoul laughed, a soft laugh nearly under his breath. "Meg, it matters little to me what others think, you of all people should know that more than anyone. It is my urgency to have you feel every bit a part of that society when we return, I shan't have you wanting for anything whilst I am able to provide it for you."

Meg watched as a bottle of wine was presented to Raoul. After having sampled it, rolling it around on his palette, smacking his tongue lightly, he nodded. The glasses were then poured. "Raoul, it has not been my habit to spend money which is not necessary, and further more, money that does not belong to me. It is but on your good graces I've been permitted to accompany you here." She glanced down. She'd not be so presumptuous as to count as hers that which was not. Raoul had told her of his intentions, but indeed, she was not yet betrothed.

Raoul was shaking his head as the salad plates were sat before them. Madeline brought in a small loaf of French bread warm from the oven, slicing it for them as they bowed their heads to say grace.

Once Madeline had left the room, she pulled the pocket doors to the dining room closed behind her. Plum house was by all accounts larger than some homes, but it was but half the house that DeChagny Manor was. As such privacy was a bit trickier beast, and it was obvious that Raoul and Meg would likely be needing a bit of that just now.

Raoul did not even pick up his fork. He held his glass of wine in his hand. They'd never really argued, and it would be a certainty that this would not be worthy of words spoken in haste. "Meg, while no proper engagement has been announced, you and I have behaved as though we were ever since the moment I slipped my grandmother's ring on your finger."

Meg began to unconsciously twirl the ring about on her finger. She sighed, it had been an entirely pleasant afternoon, and she was saddened now that she'd not simply agreed to this simple request, though it was a matter of principal.

Raoul sipped from his glass, looking down the length of the table at Meg. "You know as well as I that there shan't be a thing in this world that I would deny you." A small tinge of pleading in his voice.

Meg looked up, and as honestly as she could manage she would explain. "Raoul, I have come by much at your gracious generosity. I dare say I've more garments now than I've had the entirety of my life." She smiled at him. "You have been a dear soul, and I'd not want for you to ever feel that I am ungrateful for what you've given me." She swallowed, this would be the first she'd referenced their difference in social ranking, and perhaps the last. "Having been adequately cared for, I'd not wanted for many things when I was a little girl. I was content to be with my mother, with…" she hesitated, she'd nearly spoken the name which would have wounded him. "Never in all of those years did I once feel truly lacking. Now faced with the decision to select elaborate garments that would cost so much…"

Raoul was on his feet and at Meg's side before she'd even had time to finish her sentence. "Meg, let us not mince words. I know it troubles you to have such elaborate things, and it causes you grief even more that it is not your own funds you expend." He sighed, he'd thought about this so many times, and had hoped for a much different setting and place. He took Meg's hand into his.

Meg was staring down into his eyes. He looked far more serious than he had an hour before when she'd sat, his head in her lap, the pair reading in the library. The look on his face now was much less relaxed, much more intent. "Raoul?"

Raoul looked at the salad plates, and the glasses of half-drunk wine. "Please sit, I shall return in but a moment's time." He barely waited for her acknowledgement before he released her hand and departed through the doors, pulling them closed behind him.

Meg sat in utter confusion. Why had he abandoned dinner? Now more than before she'd wished she could take back her utterances. After all he'd already given her, what more would it have hurt her to accept a few more? If it pleased him to give them to her, then should she not oblige? Meg turned her head, she could hear muffled talking beyond the door, then footsteps on the stairs, and then silence. She'd sat for what must have been fifteen minutes before Raoul returned, looking much more relaxed, a wide smile on his face.

Raoul walked over to her, extending his hand. "Are you opposed to waiting for dinner Meg?" He looked at her with sincere eyes.

Meg was so uncertain of why the question, and why the meal interrupted that she shook her head from side to side. She drew her brows together.

"We shall wait until my father arrives. Madeline will see to the salads." Raoul said as he took her hand, assisting her to rise. He walked toward the door, he opened it for Meg. He smiled at her, and for the first time she saw a glimmer of something in his eyes.

She'd no idea what he intended, but whatever it was, it was the first time he'd ever interrupted a meal. Meg followed him through the door, and down the hallway toward the back of the house. He opened yet another door, taking her out onto the veranda. There were several candles lit as the sun had begun to set. The crickets were chirping, and all sounds of the forest were coming to life. The heat of the summer's afternoon was dissipating. It was most pleasant.

Raoul smiled as he closed the door behind him. Though he'd wished for something far more elaborate, there was no reason to wait. They'd be returning to Paris by the first part of July. The Opera House was scheduled to have its premier on the 15th of the month. It was a month away, more than enough time for them to bask in the glow of things. He smiled as he watched Meg walk a short distance on the veranda overlooking the gardens. He inhaled, he was never more certain of anything in his life than he was right at that moment.

Meg turned to looked at him, "Raoul?"

He smiled walking toward her with arms outstretched. This would be a night to remember.