Dear Faithfuls:
A little longer chapter! I tried to update last week but every time I tried, the system went down. Don't know why. Anyway, you will sense a change is in the wind…and I hope you will like it! Have a wonderful week!
Christine began to moan in her sleep; at first nearly silently, then a small utterance breeched her lips, an auditory groan falling out into the air.
Erik laid the book down, wiping at his cheek, he slid his arms around Christine. His hand smoothing over her stomach. He'd no doubt she was uncomfortable, hungry perhaps. The meal he'd brought from the kitchen was now unsuitable for her to consume, for what should be hot had cooled, and what should be chilled was now warm. She'd need of nourishment, but he was torn. Disturb her slumber, make her dress and go to the dining room to eat, so she might stretch her legs a bit before they'd travel? Or should he retrieve yet another tray? He slid in as close to Christine as he could, his cheek nestled in against her neck, his lips caressing it. He took her into his arms. He would wake her and allow her to decide for herself. The meal would be their last at Courtland Manor for a time, just until he was certain the Sultana posed them no threat.
XXX
The men had taken little time to decide what should be done. They'd set about emptying what little fuel they could from the lamps, tucking hay and every manner of dry tinder they could lay their hands upon under Abbas. They'd plenty of experience doing such things…as henchmen for the Sultana…this was of little trouble to them. It took less than an hour's time to arrange things so that the outcome would be certain.
Soon they found themselves outside once more, the first going to their mounts and making them ready for a swift departure. The second looked about and then struck the first of several matches, carefully positioning them precisely so as to assure success. It took minutes only really to watch as the flames inside the structure grew. It would not take long for the entire structure to burn to the ground, and everything in it be nothing more than ash and cinder. True bone would give some trouble to disguise the real purpose for the fire, but they'd no worry of that. Abbas was not known in these parts, and none would have known from whence he came. It was fool-proof, and expedient.
They'd return to the Sultana with the news and Abbas scarf and neck chain, sure proof of what they said, for he'd not have given them up unless he was dead…they'd been gifts from the Sultana herself.
XXXX
The shopkeeper was out the door, on his way to the undertaker's. He'd really no idea how to broach the subject with this man, he had barely met him the day before, but he was after-all now the senior, the master, and he'd have to address him, and not the apprentice whom he'd known for as many years as he'd lived in Chauesser. His mind raced. What had been the connection, what had this Monsieur Courtland done that such treachery followed him. He was certain that the honorable man he'd come to know was incapable of such debauchery…but perhaps even one as seasoned as he was could be fooled by smooth countenance and subtle flattery of confidences. It took minutes only and his knuckles were wrapping against the freshly painted door to the office. It was oddly quiet inside. By this hour the office was usually open, a fresh coffee brewing could oft be perceived before one even finished ascending the walkway. He sighed, that was under the reign, if you will, of the previous undertaker…a sickening though really that one would be beckoned to a mortuary by such a scent.
He stood outside, resisting the urge to put his hands together to shield the sun so as to peer within the window. He'd no choice but to be patient…he needed the man's services, even if it were a less than convenient time.
He wrapped several more times, and had nearly decided to take rest on the bench and wait, when the door opened.
"Sir?" said a sleepy voice of the large man, his hand outstretched to the shopkeeper. "Do come in, I apologize, I was up until a rather late hour, and my apprentice has been sent out on some errands. Come in, come in, I'll see to some coffee."
The shopkeeper looked around a bit, and made his way inside. He wanted to be discreet.
Perdue was yet to be familiar with the surroundings. All the utensils had been left by the previous undertaker, as they were the property of the business itself, Lady C had made point to mention that fact to the previous occupant as he packed to vacate. "Now let me see, I know that there is…"
The shopkeeper rose going to the man's side, "if you will allow me sir," he'd no need of coffee himself, but he knew the man would especially after what he'd be telling him, and he'd not deprive him of this one comfort before they left.
Perdue nodded, and sighed, "perhaps a bit of assistance would be in order here." He smiled, going at least to fetch the water. Of that much he was certain.
The shopkeeper filled the grounds into the bottom of the press, and set the kettle on to boil. It would be a few minutes until the water was hot enough, and a few more until the coffee had steeped enough to press. It was precisely enough time for him to relay all he'd seen at the winter house, and perhaps a bit of history for this man of mystery whom death seemed to follow…even if at a distance.
"Here, come sit," Perdue said as he motioned toward a pair of chairs near the window. "What is it that causes a keeper to be away from his shop at such a busy hour of the day?"
The shopkeeper looked over at the pot, steam had just barely begun to rise. He swallowed. Where to begin…and so he just started at the beginning.
Perdue, pushed hard on the spindle of the press of coffee, so as to extract every drop of brew from it. He reached out filling first the shopkeeper's cup, and then his own. He sat back, lifting the cup to his lips. He shook his head. He'd thought coming to such a small peaceful town he'd escape such treachery…the likes of which were all but commonplace in Paris…but oh how wrong he'd been. He sat forward, setting the cup down.
"And you've not seen the man…the dead man before, not even as a passing traveler?"
The shopkeeper shook his head to affirm he had not. "I see every traveler that passes through Chauesser, for one thing they all have in common is the need for some supply or another before they embark on the next leg of their journey. And surely, a man the size of this one, would have been unforgettable."
Perdue nodded his head, of course, what the man said was true. None in a village, hamlet, or city knew more than the shopkeepers. "And what of this Monsieur Courtland…what know you of him?"
The shopkeeper, wiped his hands across his face. "He's only recently taken up residence in Chausser, and then only during the winter months. He's a young wife that is with child, and is a man of considerable means. He's a great love of music, keeps his accounts in order, is not pompous or ostentatious even slightly. He has impeccable manners, and is viewed as something of a noble hero here." The shopkeeper looked down at his shoes. That was all he really knew of him, no past…
"And what of his wealth, how does he come by it, has that ever been mentioned? Is he of a wealthy family? Does he conduct business that would attribute to his holdings?"
The shopkeeper had never seen evidence of any sort of work, nor was the family name familiar. "No," he replied disappointedly. "I know not of such things. I can only speak for the interactions I've had with the man and his protégés. There's a man, Nadir, with whom I've had a number of dealings on his behalf…"
Perdue's head nearly snapped, "what did you call the man?" His brow furrowed. It was an uncommon name, and even more so in this part of the world.
The shopkeeper looked up at him strangely. "Nadir, he is a Persian man, at least I believe him to be Persian, his name, his manner of speech…" a look of strained recognition washed over him, his eyes grew wide. "You know of him?" his eyes growing wider as Perdue nodded.
"Yes, I know him." Perdue looked down at his feet, rubbing at his chin. How small the world really was. His mind raced, so this had been the tiny hamlet that the woman had come from. He walked a few steps away, retrieving the press of coffee, refilling both of their cups, opening a tin of biscotti he'd brought with him from Paris. "I shall see to sending the apprentice for breakfast when he returns. "I trust you've not eaten?" he said to the shopkeeper, as he lifted the first from the tin. They'd much to discuss, and much to do before they'd ever venture to the winter house. Of one thing he was certain as an undertaker, bodies that were dead never wandered off, they'd find it just as easily an hour from now as they would if they left immediately. He walked to the door, turning about the sign. The office was closed now for a time, privacy was needed, most certainly.
XXXX
Outside in the stable everything was being readied. "I do not understand." Said JP to the stablemaster. Why if we are making the carriage ready will we also take his steed, and this one who is barely of size and strength."
The stablemaster sighed. "It is your youth that blinds you young man. When you are older you shall learn not to question the requests of those whom you serve. He is a fair and generous man. If he'd want you to dress every pony in the barn with plumes and scarlet show saddles, you should do it without question. It is not out place to question but to serve. If he wants carriage and mount, then that is what he shall have." The carriage master walked away, going to retrieve the saddle for the smaller horse. He was stronger than his size might have shown. It was spirited true, but under the hands of the master, he minded well. He'd never seen a man who could calm an animal as he could merely by rubbing at its temples and running his hands along the neck.
He pulled the last of the straps into place, fastening them securely. He'd water and feed them and all would be ready for their departure to Paris.
XXXX
Christine felt her neck bend back slightly and her body rise from the bed she'd been resting on. She'd thought it to be a dream. She was moving she could sense it. She drew in a deep breath, struggling to open her eyes. She could hear a heart beat that was not her own. She smiled as she fully realized where she was. She was in Erik's arms, and he was carrying her. She smiled, nestling her head against his chest. She'd not open her eyes for she cared not where they were going, only that she was in the arms of the man she loved.
Erik rubbed his chin along her forehead, kissing it as he pushed through the door and out onto the walk that led to the garden. His stablemen had already searched the grounds and even now stood watch on the perimeter of Courtland Manor. They'd have one last undisturbed hour there while all was finished for their departure. He smiled as he entered the vine covered tunnel that led to the small sanctuary. He could tell by the rose petals that adorned the walk that all had been readied as he'd requested. He kissed Christine's forehead once more. "Wake my love…" he breathed in her ear.
Christine smiled, the change in temperature, the cool of shadow feeling heavenly on her skin. She opened her eyes, looking up at Erik. The sight of him was breathtaking. His eyes were a steely blue yet warm, his dark hair framing his handsome face, and the beauty of the greenery above him, tiny spots of sun trying to break through the vines of the living ceiling above him. "Erik…I love you…" she said, turning her lips to kiss the edge of his collarbone that was exposed.
Erik smiled down at her, rubbing his chin on her forehead again, "now Christine, we've no time for such things…" he said, his eyes dancing at what she woke in him. He kissed her cheek. She would forever cause rise of his passions for her with but a mere touch of her flesh against his.
Christine blushed, putting her head once more against his chest as they moved into the shelter of the grotto.
Erik carefully sat Christine down on the bench that had been layered with thick bath sheets. Several steaming basins lay off at the side, and pitchers of water just beyond them.
Christine's eyes wandered the contents of the room. "Erik?"
"My love, the doctor has told you that no deep water baths should be had until the children arrive." He smiled, his back turned to her as he dipped the first of the soft clothes into the basin, a lavender water, fragrant and refreshing filling the fibers of it. He began to wring it with his hands. "Christine, do you remember not that many months before when I lay inside the walls of that house, and you cared for me, everyday cared for me?" He began to turn around to face her.
Christine's chest was rising and falling as she nodded, realization of his intentions coming to her.
Erik moved slowly, purposefully toward her, reaching out with the cloth, lifting her hair and sliding the cool damp cloth along the back of her neck, and around to the front of her neck, bending down to place a kiss on her damp flesh.
"Erik…" she gasped.
Erik smiled, even with child his touch caused her skin to tremble at his touch. One could not pretend, not react this way at the will of the mind…it was her soul speaking to his. He smoothed his hand over her cheek. "Christine, you grow more beautiful every day my love." His hand slowly pushing her bed garment from her shoulder, exposing her flesh to him. Carefully he dipped the cloth time after time in the basin, smoothing it over Christine's flesh until he'd finished, wrapping her in a soft white sheet. Moving to her feet, he looked up into her eyes, she was blushing but a look of loving gratitude greeted him. He loved her beyond all reason…and this was the very least he could do for her. Carefully he washed her foot, causing her to laugh as he placed a tender kiss on the sole of it.
"Erik," she laughed, "that tickles my flesh…" she said, trying in futility to pull away, but he held fast.
"Tickles…really…." He smiled mischievously, "it was not that long ago that you tormented me so…" The pair began to laugh.
Christine struggled to sit forward, running her fingers through his dark locks. "Erik you are a wonder to me…how does such passion, such talent, such masculinity, such tenderness exist inside one man?"
Erik lowered her last foot to the ground, having dried it carefully. He rose from his knees and sat next to Christine. "You my love have discovered it, just a surely as Amerigo Vespucci found the Americas, and have conquered me just as Abbas The Great conquered the Uzbek rebels." He smoothed his hand over Christine's shoulder. He smiled at her, kissing her forehead, "history my love, just history of great explorers and conquerors." He tapped the end of her nose. "Now, let me finish…your breakfast will grow warm."
Christine's eyes roamed the grotto…and there it was, off on a small table, a silver platter with domed lids. She smiled, oh he planned for her…oh how he longed to please her, care for her. She smiled up at him as he lowered her back slightly and cushioned it with the draped sheets until her head was free in his hands. He lifted the first pitcher, pouring cool water over her tendrils, letting the water drip to the ground. She closed her eyes, oh what this could be heaven.
Erik smiled, seeing the pleasure in her face; it was but a small comfort he could offer her. For her tasks and burdens were great; at present the work within her womb. His hands working slowly, gently through each curl cleansing and massaging her head, then rinsing from it all trace of soap. A final pitcher of water, a bit of lavender and lemon blended with cool water to refresh her. Just as he finished he tenderly squeezed the dripping water from her hair, and then took up the abundance of her curls into a smaller cloth to dry it, assisting her to rise again to a seated position. He placed a tender kiss on her temple as he finished pressing the water from her hair, before he gently lay the damp tendrils on her skin.
He moved away, putting into a small basket the items he'd used, and then returned to her. "Come my love, you've need for sustenance, it's been hours since you've eaten anything to speak of, you must be famished." He led her the table where a meal awaited her. Seating her it pleased him to no end that she'd not fought him. Indeed this woman had come to trust him, fully trust him with all that she was.
Christine's eyes were wide when he lifted the dome. Sliced strawberries, fruit breads, sliced cheeses, several hard-boiled eggs, all of the things she enjoyed most just now. His attentiveness astounded her…he never seemed to miss anything that pleased her. "Thank you Erik," she said reaching up to run her hand along his jaw as he sat in the chair next to hers.
He leaned down, his lips lightly brushing hers. "It was my pleasure my love…always my pleasure to bring you comfort." He smiled at her, lifting the length of her hair over her bare shoulder. "Eat…" he nodded toward their uncovered plates as they bowed their heads.
Off in the distance not a sound could be heard, nature seemed to quiet in reverence of the couple that shared a precious moment together, their last at peace before the long journey to Paris.
XXX
"Are you sure, there's still a bit of ham?" Misty said to Erphan as he shook his head in polite declination.
"I've eaten all I can, not one more bite could I manage." He smiled at her as he watched her collect the plates, putting everything together on the tray. "Thank you," he said reaching out to touch her hand. He lowered his head as he saw her lip tremble as she looked at him and then quickly looked away. "Thank you for staying with me, for breakfast…" he paused, "for understanding."
Misty inhaled, her eyes blinking rapidly before she turned to look at him. She'd managed a good ruse, for she did not understand. She did not understand why he felt this way, why she felt this way, what had transpired since the sun set on the evening last. Understand? It was the furthest thing from truth that she could imagine, but she'd not disturb his comfort to speak of it. She could say nothing, but instead smiled and nodded in his direction as she left the room with the tray.
Erphan leaned back against the divan. His head still ached terribly, and the blisters forming on his forehead only added to his discomfort. But it was the pain in his heart that grieved him most. If he'd kept knowledge of his love for her to himself, she'd not have such conflict in her eyes. He'd not seen Misty that unsettled before…and he knew it meant that there was more behind her eyes than the friendship he'd first imagined. He smiled. Perhaps his thought of love was not so far fetched, but it was cruel. He knew of her affections for Andre…he'd overheard her speaking of it to one of the other maids. How could he be so selfish? He shook his head, what conflict he'd given himself…to want, and then to punish oneself for wanting. To yearn, and chastise oneself for yearning. What was he to do now? He could not retrieve the affections he'd conveyed her any more than he could dry up the sea that lay on the shores outside, and yet, he could not ask her to sacrifice the future she'd been dreaming of with Andre. He leaned his head back closing his eyes. He'd pray for clarity…for a sign…something…anything to guide him now, for this was territory in which he'd never been.
Misty laid the tray down on the counter, grasping the side of it just trying to breathe. What was this that she was feeling? She was attracted to Andre…in love with Andre…she should not be feeling this…this whatever it was. What was she to do now? Oh how she wished she could talk to Christine…somehow she knew this woman knew of true love, though she probably never knew such conflict, for surely she'd loved her husband from the first, and had never questioned if she was making the right decision. Misty smiled, surely such love and happiness had come with ease, for when she saw them look at one another, it was as if they loved one another…perhaps long before they were even born. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted when the elder maid rushed into the room.
"Oh there you are, here, take this to the carriage house, and make haste, they're to leave within the hour." She moved swiftly back toward the door, her brow beaded with sweat. "I'm sorry dear, how is your charge…how fares Erphan. Monsieur Courtland said you'd been up keeping watch all night." She paused in the porticos.
Misty took the basket from the counter; it was heavy. "Erphan is easing into his wakeful state. He's had a bit to eat now, and should be resting. The lightening strike has drained him…rightfully so." She smiled politely at the old woman, glancing down toward the floor and back up again, pushing behind her ear the hair that had fallen into her face.
The corners of the woman's lips flickered just slightly before her stony expression returned. She'd known Erphan was enamored with Misty, simply by the way he watched her, and his face lit whenever she entered the room where he was. What she had never seen, until that very moment, was Misty blush at the mention of his name. She'd mention nothing of her notice of it, but her heart smiled. Both children deserved happiness, and to see such blossom in front of her eyes, warmed her heart. She smiled, "that is good to hear my dear, give him my regards won't you?" and she departed without waiting for reply.
Misty lifted the basket once more, realization setting in, "mum? Mum?" But she was too late. She walked toward the door. "Who was departing within the hour?" she said under her breath as she walked out the door and toward the carriage house.
XXX
"Thank you, that will be all. Come to collect the dishes in an hour or so." DeChagny shooed the maids out of the great room. The plates lay in a stack, the dishes of food on the table were steaming and awaiting their guests. The cooks had attempted to inquire why so much food for so few, but he'd brushed off their questions, and requested far more plates than would ever be needed, just to add to the distraction. He waited until he could hear their footsteps on the stairs, and slowly he went to the door of the great room and walked quietly to the stairway, looking down to be certain that they'd indeed ventured down to the lower floors. When all was clear he went to his room, retrieving Raoul, then to Madame Giry's quarters to retrieve the ladies. It was mere minutes only before Nadir appeared to join them as they walked in silence toward the great room. The group exchanging smiles with one another.
Raoul made his way to Meg, sliding his hand in hers, squeezing slightly and leaning over to peck her cheek. "Good morning love," he whispered.
Meg blushed, closing her eyes and nodded to him. It was their way, their silent way of conveying love for one another when words could not be exchanged.
The door closed securely behind them, they would be able to enjoy one another's company with ease now, for the room had been designed to keep private matters private, the wall toward the corridor nearly twice as thick as any others. There would be no eavesdropping on what went on behind these doors…that had been the entire point in Erik's design…a safe haven for the women who called the Opera House home. It had been his desire that they should have such.
XXX
Andre rapped quietly on the door to Lady C's bedchamber. He'd returned with reports of the bridge, and that passage now was safe, they could continue on their journey toward Paris. He knew she would be pleased to put a distance between that foreign woman and their small party.
Lady C rose and unlatched the door. Smiling at Andre as he entered. "Pray do tell me that you've brought me good news. The woman has tripped on one of her great skirts and broken her neck at a fall from the stairs!" she said in jest, though inside she'd not have found horror in it should it in fact have been true.
Andre's brow furrowed. He knew she'd not liked the woman, but Lady C's affinity for life was one of many things he admired about her, and to hear her speak of such things was a bit disconcerting. "Yes, I bring you good news, the bridge is dry and able to be crossed. We shall depart after the morning meal. The horses are being fed and readied." He looked at her, the weariness in her face told him she'd not slept at all the night previous for surely she'd not look so done in. "Lady C…this meets with your approval yes?" He walked toward her extending a hand.
"Yes, yes, of course." She'd not really known what she wanted. To see the woman once more, to stare her down, eye to eye….but then confrontation of that sort, especially unprovoked and without cause never came to any good.
Andre looked around as he assisted Lady C to rest in her chair. "Dear lady, you've nothing to worry about here. We've checked ever home and business, surely someone else may have seen him.