Dear Faithfuls:
Yet one more week, perhaps two at the longest, and I will be able to devote more time to responding to your continuing reviews. You have been more than faithful, and thus so more than deserving of the title "Phamily members!"
I do so hope you enjoy this chapter, and can embrace with what joy and sorrow life's road can take us. It has often been a wonder to me that bitter sadness and utter happiness can exist just doors away from each other. We all walk our own roads in this life, (ever heard of 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams'? if so you will understand the reference, I am listening to it right now!). Our encounters with others add or detract from our happiness. While we all experience pain and joy, we do so at different times, and in different ways. Fear controls us, happiness propels us, love swallows us, and dreams enrapture us. It is in this common ground that we are all connected. Not that we experience everything at the same time, but in the mere fact that we were all born to experience life, and life to its fullest. So no matter where life finds you right now, embrace it, and find what joy it has to reveal to you. For my journey has brought me to all of you, and in our Phamily I have taken great comfort and pleasure. – Angel
Erik leaned the long spindle against the wall just outside the room. He paused, placing both his hands above his head, leaning heavily on the door; he sighed. No easy method existed for the task that lay ahead of him. Christine's vision, the appearance of the spindle on his property, the letter from Nadir….it had all but shattered the temporal pleasantness they'd been lingering in. He found himself wondering when or if their life would quiet into a calm routine; he so prayed to give Christine the gift of peace in which to nurture and deliver their children.
Erik glanced down at the letter he'd tucked inside the band about his waist. Before he'd return to Christine, he'd read Nadir's letter. He'd long tried to forget with what cryptic words he and Nadir would converse when they'd something of a most serious nature to discuss, lest anyone should find their communiqué and question it. He'd be looking for certain words, and if the letter was devoid of them….raven…..deep water….final meal… tenacity….decay….trees of fruit, then Erik would know that the beast had not presented herself anywhere in Nadir's vicinity. Erik slid his finger beneath the seal, opening the pages, he began to read in the dim light of the hallway.
"My dearest friend,
I regret to tell you that I must delay my journey several weeks. A most unfortunate happening in Paris has left need for me to remain in the City for at least that length of time.
By the time you have chance to read this, you will no doubt have discovered the sad news to which I refer. Dickens passing is indeed a sad one, as the man had so much life left in him. Though a physician has examined him thoroughly, no precise cause for his death has been offered; at least to the general public. No doubt I shall be on hand for his services, which are set to be held on June 14.
Now lest you wonder of my delay beyond that time, I am compelled to inform you that I've been commissioned by his most faithful devotee to develop a suitable tribute to the author. As fate would have it, all will be on display at the Opera Populaire as DeChagny has made provision for a tribute to literary genius in a wing of the refurbished structure.
It is his hope that this will greatly add to the attraction of the reopening. To this end I am busily researching and penning documents I can only hope will be worthy of the man. His most faithful devotee? The man who published his works. He has most graciously bestowed upon the Opera House, a complete set of Dickens published works; it was the second of each volume printed. He has kept, for sentimental if not pecuniary reasons, the first of each novel that was printed. His intent was that his gift be part of the tribute to the author.
I do beg of you to forgive me, but know full well this letter will be received with full understanding. I shall make whatever arrangements I am able to visit as soon as this work permits. I so look forward to visiting with you and your wife. I trust that all is well with you.
Nadir
Erik exhaled silently. There was no air of concern in Nadir's note, save what he felt about Dickens' passing; it was a good sign indeed. He folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Nadir at present was safe. He need now worry only for the safety of the one he'd vowed to protect. His own life, was of little consequence, though he'd gamble with it more tenaciously, for now there was someone who depended on him. He reached for the door handle, a loud crack of thunder rattled the windows, and then the heavy rains began to fall. He felt all the more compelled to hide his treasures…for he knew the beast's methods. She would strike when it was least favorable for those that she hunted…and a storm was perfect for hunting; it concealed the screams…she'd told him as much herself.
The door flew open and Christine nearly leapt into Erik's arms. "Oh Erik, you must go to him…see if he is…he is…it's Erphan….the lightening…they were carrying in the rocking chair and…" she began to sob, grabbing onto the sides of his shirt.
Erik's eyes grew wide. He rushed to the window, attempting to see through the torrents of rain that were falling from the sky in sheets. A huddled mass was on the ground as the lightening flashed illuminating the sky in a surreal glow. There on the ground was Erphan, sprawled out as if struck dead.
Erik's heart began to pound. He turned to Christine, throwing a blanket about her shoulders, quickly escorting her away from the window. He grabbed her shoes and a pillow as he hurried her out of the room with nary a word. He was moving so quickly that it frightened her.
"Erik?" she said through her strained tears.
He spoke softly as he led her. "Christine, do you remember the place that I showed you? The place you were to hide if you were afraid?" He waited until she nodded. "I do not have time to explain, but I must ask you to trust me my love. I am taking you there and asking that you not leave that place until I retrieve you, not even at anyone's bidding, no matter what is said to you…is that understood?"
Christine nodded, fear beginning to seize her anew.
Erik stutter-stepped, coming to a halt in front of the door. He inhaled, he'd no time to explain, but he had to know. "Christine, was this what you saw in your dream?" Erik held the scarf-adorned javelin out in front of him.
Christine's eyes grew wide with fear; her lips began to tremble.
Erik did not wait for her verbal reply; her expression told him all that he needed to know. "My dear it was indeed a vision, and though I long to withhold nothing from you lest it cause you danger; let me simply tell you that the sight of such things has brought even the greatest of men to their knees. In due time I shall explain, but I must now beg of you your unwavering obedience." He looked into Christine's eyes with seriousness, and took her by the hand, pulling her close to him, leading her down the hallway.
He'd been swift in his movement, they were now at the panel beneath the stairs. He embraced Christine, kissing her with tenderness, rubbing his hand along her stomach. He knew he must tell her something lest she drive herself mad with worry. "
"My love, there are a great many dangers out in this world…and I shall do my best to protect you from all of them. I must tell you that the javelin is a warning of the most abhorrent kind. When this present danger has passed, there is much I will share with you…of my past life…but for now, know that I love you…will always love you." He ran his hand behind her neck, massaging it as he kissed her forehead. He wrapped the blanket around her, tucking her in through the secret door. "Christine, do not forget the passage out should you need it. You do remember where it leads do you not?"
Christine shook her head again, hoping she'd not have to make use of such. Her heart pounded. It was all moving so fast, and it perplexed her that Erphan being struck by lightening had caused this reaction in Erik, but she would obey without question.
Erik kissed her once more, and closed the door behind her. He held his hand on it, saying the prayer, "God guard us, one and all; keeping safe that we might live to embrace tomorrow as it be your will."
His eyes, now open, were filled with tears as he ran down the stairs. He was at once in the closet by the parlor, fitting a sword into his belt, a gun on his shoulder. He donned his cape in a flourish and he bounded down the hall. The lightening flashed so bright it looked like the height of noon. The thunderous crashes rung in his ears as the front door flung wide open. In came three of his staff carrying Erphan.
Erik rushed to him. He felt of his neck, his heart still beat but he did not wake. "Take him into the parlor, and see to sending the carriage to retrieve the doctor. You," he pointed to Misty, "you see to making up a bed for him, blankets, pillows and the like." All the while he spoke, he was examining Erphan. There was no evidence of poison dart, nor wound of any kind though his cheek and forehead were a deep red. His pallor and quivering of his eyes beneath is lids caused Erik great concern. Erik sighed. Perhaps it had been lightening that had leveled Erphan to the ground. But, with the javelin at the winter house, Christine's vision, and a gut feeling that something was amiss, he'd not be taking any chances.
Erik glanced around the house, it rattled and shook as the worst of the storm clouds darkened the sky as if it were midnight. The cloud seemed to settle over the house, all manner of trees and shrubbery thrashing about outside the windows. He looked at the men who stood now awaiting orders. He was the master of the house, his wish their command. He knew he could not risk taking the horse out, for surely the beast would never allow for a mount to ride in such weather. His breathing increased, his needs were so far divided. His need to protect them was paramount. He glanced about once more as a large thunderous crash struck outside, splitting one of the mature trees clean through the middle. Near the sea the storms were oft much more violent, but he'd not seen the likes of such a storm in a great while.
He looked at his staff as they recollected, save for Misty, she stayed with Erphan. "You sir, and you sir," he pointed at two of the men. "Go to every room, batten down the windows lest we have any glass flying about."
The two men nodded and disappeared. One up the stairs to the second level, the other to the parlor where Erphan was now resting.
"You sir, you are to go with JP, to the stables. Secure the doors, and tighten the windows. We must abandon thought of going to retrieve the doctor until the worst has passed." He paused, "do take care to tie securely the young horse, we'll not want a leg broken when all of this has ended." He could only imagine the fear that would be coursing through the animal now.
The last maid standing before Erik was the eldest, and he dared say the most steady. She'd worked a great many years at Courtland Manor, and no doubt had seen many a storm the likes of this one. She seemed not to flinch, even at the thunder. "You have a great deal of courage dear lady."
She smiled at Erik, nodding her head. "Not at all sir…I've but lived a little longer than most…seen a great deal of things and lived to tell of it." She nodded again.
Erik smiled at her, something about her countenance calmed him just slightly. "What would you do…normally during such a time?"
She raised her eyebrows, glancing over at the clock; it was nearly seven. She looked back at him. "Monsieur, I'd be setting supper in place for the household," she paused, a flicker of a smile gracing her lips, "for even the timid and faint-of-heart need sustenance when the storm has passed."
Erik smiled, in spite of his present trepidations. This fraction of levity in an otherwise tense situation, gave him leave to realize, indeed, storms did come, but as assuredly as they came, they would pass, and they would all be in need of an evening meal. "Very well then, carry on."
With that, the woman departed, traveling down the hall toward the kitchens.
Erik glanced at the parlor, and up the stairs to the hiding place where he'd stowed Christine. She was safe, and in truth, was most guarded there, should he find something further wrong with Erphan than what he'd first suspected. There was still the issue of the javelin…the vision….he was torn.
He turned toward the parlor. He'd look over Erphan more carefully, seeing what if anything he might do for the young man. As he came to the doorway, the man rushed out passed him, he'd several more windows to batten, for surely the worst of it was upon them.
Erik went to Erphan's side. Misty had diligently and respectfully removed his garments, covering him in a soft sheet and warm blanket. They were neatly folded and sat on the chair just off to the side of where he lay. She was carefully tending to him with a warm cloth, wiping at the red welt on his forehead. "Monsieur?" she said as Erik approached.
He nodded to the other gentleman in the room, the man quickly departing to assist JP in the stables. "Misty, you've done well, he looks most comfortable." He stood above her watching as she patted about his neck and chest. Erphan had begun to sweat.
Erik walked over to Erphan's clothes, pausing. He bent down and lifted the young man's boots. The first produced nothing out of the ordinary. He lifted the second, then sighed. Indeed, he had been struck by lightening, for a large hole was burned clean through the sole of the boot. Erik returned the pair neatly beneath the chair. He need look no further for the cause nor Erphan's fate; it was out of anyone's hands. If he were to survive this strike, he would do so only as his body and God willed it, for no manner of man's hand could help him now. The sheer fact that he'd survived it at all was a miracle.
Erik walked over and placed a tender hand on Misty's shoulder. "I am to return to Elizabeth, we shall be in the study, but pray do not disturb us lest Erphan take a turn for the worse."
Misty looked up at Erik, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Monsieur, I must tell you…" she looked down at Erphan and then back up at Erik. "Last week Erphan and I had opportunity to walk in the gardens one evening, neither he nor I could sleep in the heat. We'd sat a long while discussing a great many things, and we happened upon the subject of our time in service in your household. Monsieur, Erphan professed that he'd never been more honored to work for any man than he was you…he felt of you as he would…nay…he loved you as if you were his elder brother. You see Monsieur, his brother was killed a number of years ago, and with his father already gone he'd really no one to look up to until you'd taken him under your wing." She paused, looking back at Erphan, wiping his brow again that had re-beaded with sweat.
Erik had neither anticipated Misty's words nor his own reaction. He was nearly brought to tears….loved him as a brother…oh would that it be the heavens would be so merciful that he had a brother. He looked back at Misty.
"Monsieur," she continued, "I am most certain, should he not recover, that he'd have wanted you to know such things." She looked back at Erphan.
Erik's movements were nearly always premeditated, but in that moment, he went with his gut. He knelt beside Misty, putting his hand on her shoulder, and his other on Erphan's. He bowed his head; Misty followed suit.
"Dear merciful Lord, please heal our friend, restore him to us, and to the life that he has chosen. Heal his body and mind so that he might fulfill your purpose for his life. Amen."
Erik squeezed Misty's shoulder and rose above them. "Do look after him Misty. We've but to wait, he's in God's hands now." With that Erik turned and left.
Erik mounted the stairs, a sudden wave of emotion washing over him; he brushed a tear away from his eye. He'd come to care for these people in his household as if they were family. Each was unique, possessing talents and weaknesses that made them both perfect and imperfect, and utterly human. He'd never known more than a small handful of people in all his life that he'd truly cared for, but now his world and heart were expanding. Life was complex, life was messy, he thought to himself as he reached the upper floor. Though he missed the familiar placidity of his former life at times, he'd never trade what he'd found in this collection of people…not trade it for any amount of riches in the world.
"A brother…" he uttered under his breath as he came to the panel behind which he would find his love. He had so much to tell her now. Surely it was time to take her into his confidences. She would be wondering why they would be moving yet again, and she deserved to know why.
"Christine?" Erik said, tapping lightly on the panel. He heard a bit of movement behind the door, and then the release of the latch.
"Erik, has danger passed so quickly?" she said with a quivering timbre in her voice.
Erik reached in taking Christine by the hand, gently guiding her to a standing position, embracing her. "My dearest Christine, I trust you are without harm for sitting in such a confined place?"
She nodded as she rested her head on his chest. "Yes my love, we are all quite well."
Erik took Christine's hand, looking down into her eyes. "Christine, I must explain my actions. I know I've confused you greatly, and I desire to do so no more. There are things I'd hoped to protect you from…" his voice caught in his throat, he coughed, "but it seems that fate has placed your mind in the midst of it, for surely you'd have no other knowledge of the javelin should it not have been meant to be so." He smoothed his hand along her cheek. "Far too much for such a young soul to bear," he kissed her forehead, "but tell you I must, lest it be revealed to you in another way. Come," he said, sliding his hand along her waist as another round of thunder rattled at the battened windows. "Your curiosity some months ago nearly revealed this secret, now it is time for you to know of the contents of the drawer."
Christine gasped…the drawer…but that had been at the Winter house, how was it that…she did not know, and would not question it.
Erik led a silent Christine down the stairs toward the study. Her heart was pounding as they passed Erphan with Misty sitting doting next to him dabbing his brow, she nodded.
"My love will Erphan be…" Christine whispered.
"To everything there is a season my love, and only God knows if Erphan has entered the winter of his life." Erik leaned down and kissed her temple as he opened the door to the room and led Christine inside. There was much this night would produce, and though he had faith, he worried for it all.
Outside on the lawn lie the rocking chair, split in two, splayed on the lawn being battered by the rains. The chair had taken the most direct strike, likely sparing Erphan's life. But one could not help but wonder looking at the sight, if it foretold of things to come.
XXXXX
The driver had stopped several times in the village before he'd finally come to the carriage door, conversing with Andre that he'd found a suitable tavern for dinner, and a place where he might rest and water the horses. The streets were aglow, and as he was concerned, there was something a little too perfect about the City.
Andre held out his hand as he escorted Lady C from the carriage. Her eyes were wide as she departed the carriage. The street they were on was beautiful. Neatly manicured, a delicate pot of flowers out by each stoop, and tiny window boxes brimming with petite ivy. Every so many meters there were beautiful lamps that lighted the path, and indeed, it did look like something out of a painting she'd once seen. Save the fact that it was entirely devoid of people or animal, it would have been perfect. There was a glow in every window as far as her eye could see. She turned looking at Andre, "One cannot help but feel as though we are intruding on a most personal moment for such a sleepy village. No dog, no child, no manner of any stirrings of life…how very odd indeed." She stepped down the last until her foot was on solid ground.
"This way Madame, Monsieur." A polite man said quietly as he escorted them into the tavern. His manner a bit formal, yet warm in demeanor.
Lady C and Andre were greeted by an inviting aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread. The man led them in silence to a small table in a corner near the window, and not far from the fireplace. Andre looked around. There were only three other tables in all of the tavern that were occupied, and of those not one was having more than a nearly silent conversation. Lady C looked at Andre as he watched the man walk back toward the kitchen.
"How very strange indeed," he said to Lady C, "it's as if the whole town was under arrest in their house, and we but unknowing intruders." He smiled at her discretely, leaning forward to whisper. "I'll inquire when the man returns, there is something most…" he quieted as a young woman appeared at the table with a pot of strong brewed coffee, a small pitcher of water, and several plates of warm bread with a chilled and marbled cheese and butter.
Andre noted the young woman had a pleasant smile, but had offered no greeting. He almost felt a pang of guilt for breaking the silence.
"Pardon my forwardness mademoiselle, but I've noticed the general quietness of your beautiful village, pray do tell, we do not intrude upon some sacred occasion?"
The young woman leaned forward as she filled the water glasses, "sir, we are normally a quiet village on Sunday evenings as we observe a most decided time for family to be together in quiet reflection. Most typically all manner of business is closed, save for inn which welcomes visitors on their way too and from Paris." She began to pour a cup of coffee for each. "This evening however, we are even more so in a particularly reflective state as we are observing an evening of silence in honor of our frequent visitor Charles Dickens." She looked down respectfully at the table. "Surely you know of him, and his passing."
"Indeed we have, in fact we are on our way even now to Paris for his funeral." Andre offered as he lifted the cup to his lips. The coffee was smooth yet even stronger than what Lady C so oft requested.
The young woman set the press of coffee down lightly on the table. "I am most compelled to inform you sir that the bridge between here and Paris was washed under the currents of the river as it swelled from the most recent rains. As of earlier this afternoon, the bridge was only barely visible in parts, and certainly not safe enough to travel, especially now that night is descending. I am terribly afraid to tell you, you will most likely be spending the evening with us here." She smiled apologetically at Andre and Lady C. "You and your mother will be most welcome here, and I dare say you will be in good company." She glanced over Andre's shoulder. "There are the duke and dutchess of Cornwall, and beyond them the baron of Tindall and his wife. The third couple, I dare say I've not seen before, but I think they may well be from Arabia, their dress is most unusual, and the young man accompanying her I do believe is in her service for she treats him rather tersely."
The young woman looked up when she heard a throat clear. It was her father, standing in the door to the kitchen a hot tray of food in his hands. "Do excuse me Monsieur, Madame." She moved respectfully toward the kitchens.
"Most interesting," Lady C said as she lifted a bit of the bread to her lips. "I do hope they've room for us, and for the carriage drivers as well."
Andre looked at her a bit surprised. Most generally this sort of unexpected interruption would have caused a most different response from the Lady, but now she seemed comfortable in the change, though he knew she'd have not preferred it.
Lady C smiled at Andre, "I can tell by the most curious look on your face, that you wonder at my lack of response." She sipped from her cup of coffee, looking at Andre. "You see, in my life I have learned that one cannot be upset over things which one does not have control of. This my dear sir, is not Chauesser, and I must defer to the kind graces of those whom manage this pretty village. One can easily tell that it is cared for with no less zealousness than our household cares for Chauesser. If we are to be delayed, there is little we can do, save make the best of it." She smiled, lifting her cup again.
Andre still marveled at the changes he'd begun to see in Lady C these last months. If he hadn't known better, he'd have ventured a guess that she were under the aura of a new love.
The young lady presented herself yet again, a plate for each set in front of them. "I do apologize if this may not be to your liking. It is our tradition in the village on Sundays."
Lady C looked down to find her plate filled with steamed vegetables, a large wedge of deep orange cheese, and a smallish dish of a steaming pickled meat."
"It is lamb Madame, in curry sauce." She nodded and left the two to their dinner.
Andre smiled at Lady C, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps they have a lovely dessert!" He said in a hushed breath. Lamb….it had never been a favorite, and certainly never graced the table whilst at home. But….she'd said they'd make the best of it…and so they did.
XXXXX
Katherine was out of breath when she pushed her way into the doctor's quarters behind his offices. There was a humble kitchen, a small sitting room, a water closet, and a curiously large bedroom with several armoires four trunks, and the largest four-poster bed that Katherine had ever seen. She'd brought with her the largest sheets that they had at the inn. They were made for the high-beds that were becoming all the fashion in Norway as of late, so were much larger than most.
The bed had no coverings at all, save the neatly folded quilt that was at the foot of the bed. John Paul hadn't spent a night there since he'd come to Chauesser. He'd stayed his first while at the Inn, and then had gone to live with Nicole and her mother after she'd taken ill.
Katherine smiled while she worked. She could scarcely believe that she'd had the good fortune of overhearing their conversation so that she might do this for Nicole and John Paul. No wedding night should be missed, even if there were good reasons for it. Having a marriage not honored in that way would only add insult to their vows, and ache to their hearts.
She was practiced at making beds, and in no time at all she'd sheet and pillow case in tucked neatly. She grabbed the basket she'd brought with her. There were flowers for the vases on either side of the bed, candles for the sconces that protruded from each post, and a handful of soft white rose petals for the cover. She quickly draped the fine white netting she'd brought with her over the top frame. One day it would need to be replaced with the appropriate draperies, but for tonight, it would still give them an air of privacy. She gently brought the netting down on either side, and stepped back. The room was taking on a beauty it had been so long devoid of. She paused only for a brief moment and then quickly went to set the fire to be ready for lighting. The champagne was in a bucket on the small table, two new glasses, and a plate of strawberries set off to the side. As Katherine pulled the door closed behind her, she wished she could do more for the couple, but at the very least she'd provided them a temporary haven for their wedding night.
She lifted her basket and once more took flight, returning in a flurry to the flat where everyone had gathered for dinner. In the basket she'd a chocolate torte they were planning to serve for afternoon tea the day next, and a pot of gravy she'd warmed. True they were pitiful excuses for a delay, but then again, except for her father, they'd all think her to have had to take time to make the gravy. She knocked just once, opening the door to a room full of warm conversation and delicious scents. Oh how wonderful a night it truly would be.
Nicole looked up, nodding politely to Katherine as she joined them at the table just as they finished their salad course. "Your fiancé has been entertaining us I dare say since you left my dear friend. Stories of him try to teach you to fish, and you trying to teach him how to roll a crust for pie. It seems you are equally suited for one another having need for one another lest you both starve!" Nicole smile at Katherine, her face was positively glowing.
Katherine took a sip from her glass of wine. The entire table waited, with patient care, until Nicole's mother finished her salad. Katherine and Nicole were quickly on their feet, clearing away the salad plates. The next was a course of soup, and then would follow the main entrée. By the time they'd finished the fourth of the five courses, their stomachs hurt as much from laughter as from being filled.
Before Katherine and Nicole could rise to clear away the plates, John Paul and Katherine's fiancé were on their feet. "Do allow us dear ladies. You've tended to the meal, we shall take care of the table. Do go sit in the parlor won't you?"
Katherine smiled at Nicole. The cake, it would have to wait…for it was to be a wedding cake, though no one save her knew of it. "Nicole, might I have a word with you….in private. I've something to ask you about a trousseau that I dare say would be a bit blushing in mixed company." Truly it was a shameful excuse, but no one would question it.
Nicole looked at her mother, and then at John Paul's father before she rose and joined Katherine who led her into her bedchamber. They'd no sooner found themselves inside the door than Katherine embraced Nicole.
"Oh my dearest friend!" she leaned back looking at a stunned Nicole. "Now," she said go over to the armoire, "let us see to finding that dress will you."
Nicole came forward, putting her hand on Katherine's shoulder. "However did you know, we've just…."
Katherine smiled. "I am your friend am I not? And was it not I that taught you the fine art of eavesdropping?" She smiled at her all the more as she reached to the back of the wardrobe and pulled out a hanger, its' contents hung straight but tightly wrapped. "Yes, this is it!"
Nicole shook her head. She could barely speak. The day had been a whirlwind from when she'd first opened her eyes. Now she was planning to slip into a most sentimental garment on what would be the most memorable night of her life.
Katherine slid the dress over Nicole's head. They'd paused just briefly as they'd heard the door to the flat open and close, no doubt John Paul taking the pastor outside to inquire of his services. She turned to look at Nicole who had a tear running down her cheek. She leaned forward placing a gentle peck on her brow. "Do not worry my dear, it shall be a wonderful night, you shall see!"
Nicole could do nothing but smile. One day they'd have a proper wedding night, but for tonight she would sleep next to him, held in his arms protectively, something she'd needed for so many years it brought her to tears. "A doctor's wife Katherine….a doctor's wife…"
Katherine finished lacing the back of the dress. "It is wonderful is it not?" She smiled sitting Nicole down in front of her vanity. "And now for a little something." She spun Nicole's hair up into an elegant swirl, and reached into her pocket, retrieving a lovely silver hair comb. "You've something old, the dress of course, something borrowed.." she said as she slid the comb into the coif of Nicole's hair, "and the something blue…well.." she looked about the room, then she smiled, "something blue will be the eyes of your most adorning husband!"
Nicole rose, embracing Katherine. "My dear friend, whatever would I do without you?"
There was a knock at the door, "ladies, may I enter?" the pastor said. "I've need to speak with Nicole for just a moment.
Katherine went to the door letting the pastor in and slipping nearly out, "oh, I nearly forgot."
She scampered away from the door, leaving Nicole and the pastor looking at one another in confusion. Katherine returned without a word and handed Nicole the vase of flowers from the table that John Paul had purchased for her. "You might be needing these," she said with a smile as she closed the door behind her.
XXXXXXXX
Nadir had taken leave of his work; having been toiling most diligently for hours without break for more than a scant cup of tea. Madame Giry had sat by faithfully, reading quietly, interjecting comment occasionally when her opinion was asked of her. Nadir sighed, a more than a bit satisfied with the expenditure of his efforts. He'd now several dozen pages of notes from which to craft his final record. A bit of history, a bit of creative supposition, and a bit of lore and imaginative injection, and he'd be finished. Oh how he longed to have Erik there as his consigliore, for no one knew the man's work better, nor held it with higher regard than he.
Carefully he wiped all traces of ink from the pen and returned it to its rest. He turned to find Madame Giry dozing, an open volume of Dickens on her lap. He smiled. Though she was not considered a woman of the uppers of society, he thought she possessed all the refinement and graces of females twice her status. She was an elegant and refined creature; and he'd come to adore her in ways he'd barely allowed himself to before.
Slowly he rose walking over to her, lifting the book from her lap. He'd enjoyed their solitude, but now he'd need to take her for a proper supper, and a nice glass of port. Though he'd longed to see Erik and Christine, he'd come to enjoy these unexpected turn of events, for one never knew why things turned the way they did.
Nadir stood looking down at Madame Giry, the way her hair rested over her shoulder, the long braid she'd had wrapped round her head, now loosed and laying on her shoulder. He could see a glimpse of the woman she'd likely been when she were a younger woman, yet to him, she was far more beautiful with a bit of life showing on her face. What Madame Giry possessed that younger women did not, was the heart and soul of a woman seasoned by life. She knew the joys of the flesh and the sorrows of the heart, and to Nadir, there was nothing more beautiful than this.
He leaned over her, tenderly kissing her on the cheek. "Antoinette…" he rubbed his hand along her shoulder.
She stirred slightly, trying to sit up in vain whilst she straightened her dress beneath her. "Nadir, I beg your forgiveness, I was poor little company.."
"Do not worry my dear. Our conversations gave way to great inspiration. It the quiet that followed pages of notes came to me. Now all I've to do is craft them in to a suitable arrangement and my work will be well on its way." He lifted her hand into his as she began to rise.
"You are most generous in your pardon Nadir." She glanced around, the room was the hue of early dusk. "I pray, what time is it Nadir?"
Nadir lifted her hand to his lips kissing her knuckles, "it is time for me to take you for dinner dear lady. I do think the Starboard will be most accommodating should we walk that way." Nadir released her hand moving toward the hook to retrieve his cloak.
"Do you think it not be far too busy to accommodate us, given the surge of Dickens loyalists?" Madame Giry said, straightening her skirt.
"Perhaps, but I've never known them to have had trouble making room for us before, and I shan't suspect that…"
Madame Giry and Nadir turned toward the door. A second knock reaffirmed that there was indeed someone there.
"Mother?"
Madame Giry's face lit with the lumens of a thousand candles as she rushed toward the door, opening it to find Meg and Raoul standing there, arm in arm, the elder DeChagny not long behind them.
"May we come in?" Raoul said, leaning down to place a kiss on Madame Giry's cheek.
Nadir nodded at Raoul, opening the door as Madame Giry and Meg embraced. "Do come in…what a most pleasant surprise!"
DeChagny quickly escorted them into the room, closing the door behind them. Their arrival had been swift, and they'd now want to draw any undue attention.
"You are just in time to join us at the Starboard, we were leaving now to have dinner there." Nadir said looking at the lot of them.
"I'm afraid that shan't be possible sir, and in fact I've ordered a most delicious dinner to be delivered to Madame Giry's quarters within the hour." DeChagny said. "We shall not be staying in Paris more than this night, for Raoul and Meg still have time to be at Plum house before an announced return to Paris shall occur." DeChagny strained an unusual smile.
Nadir took notice of his expression, "to what then sir do we owe this most pleasant but unexpected visit?"
DeChagny nodded at Raoul. He was a grown man, and time for him to tell his future mother-in-law of the news.
XXXX
There it was again, the thunk of a heavy boot in the space above him. Pyotr was all but certain that Monsieur Courtland's staff had left hours before, as he'd ventured a peek and found the carriage gone. No, it was the same familiar sound he'd heard earlier in the day. A great gasp rose in Pyotr, so much so that it swelled and he could contain it no longer, he gasped audibly. Then he retracted in fear as he heard the footsteps draw closer overhead. With such great terror he listened as a pair of knees were lowered to the floor. There was no escaping, no where to go, his only hope was to…. Pyotr drew the pistol from his belt, silently loading it with the bullets he'd taken from his pocket. In his nervousness he'd dropped several but managed to load the gun. He inhaled slowly trying to estimate the exact location of the person above him. He listened, and listened, and then carefully his hand rose from his side, still shaking, but knowing full well the closeness of the target would make his aim less important. He pulled back the trigger. The small clicking sound caused the person above the floor to rise. Without so much as further hesitation, Pyotr shot twice, a scream and a loud thud, told him he'd hit his target. He sat trembling….sweating….listening….and there was silence.
Slowly, carefully, Pyotr rose, lifting the door above his head just slightly so that he could peer out. He could see little else save for the soles of a pair of boots that no doubt belonged to whomever his shots had felled. He closed the door, and repeated this process three more times before he'd enough bravery to rise out of his near-death hiding place. Slowly, quietly he peered at the still figure, he was indeed as large and formidable as Pyotr had feared. He glanced beyond the man out into outer yard, and save a single horse, adorned with finery equaling a stallion in the royal stable, there was nothing.
Pyotr, sighed. He'd have to retrieve all the articles in the lower chamber and make a run for his life. It would not be long and this soldier would be missed. Pyotr turned, grabbing a long stick to prop open the trap door. In the next instant he heard behind him a great growl, and before he could throw himself back into the hole a great javelin swirled toward him, meeting him at mid chest, throwing his back against the outer wall of the stable. He immediately began to feel cold. He could do little more than watch as the dying man drug himself toward him, it seemed fate had come to call on both of them. Pyotr could neither scream nor fight, but winced as the man threw his shoulder into the javelin, thus securing it through the outer wall, then fell to the ground at Pyotr's feet. His breath began to leave him, his consciousness waning as he watched the man dip his finger in the pool of scarlet liquid that had become a blend of both of their lives….and then he closed his eyes.
A hush fell over the meadow, a gentle rain began. The horse made its way inside the stable to retreat from the rains. There in that structure the horse lay down near its master. There in that small structure came to an end the lives of two men, both devoted to their craft, and in the end it had cost them dearly. The horse kicked his leg as he began to doze, thus dislodging the stick Pyotr had used to prop open the door. It came down with a thunderous crash under the weight of it….but there was no one to hear it.