Title: A Grand Illusion

Characters: Christine/Raoul, OCs

Chapters: 4/8 + epilogue

Rating: K+

Warnings: None for early chapters, twists and kidnapping later

"Leroux, have you seen Madeline down here? It time for her luncheon."

Dark eyes looked up from where lithe hands were deftly knotting a thin rope. Donatien smiled his strangely knowing smile and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Madame. I'm afraid she isn't here. Perhaps in the gardens? She said she wanted to practice skipping stones on the pond, last I heard."

"Oh."

Christine huffed and sat on one of the feed barrels there in the stable. The young man gazed at her almost improperly. He dropped the first rope he'd knotted and started on another.

"Are you tired, Madame?"

"A little. I've had a busy morning."

"Perhaps you'd like me to go and look for the young Mam'selle for you, Madame? It would be no trouble. The horses don't need me for the moment."

The lady smiled and thanked him for the offer, telling him to finish what he was doing first, if he liked. He thanked her in return and tightened a knot.

"What are you making there, Leroux?" she asked him after a moment of catching her breath.

"This, Madame?" He held up his pile of ropes and his eyes twinkled. "It's a ladder."

"A ladder? Of rope?"

"Yes, Madame. My father taught me to make them. I'm practicing. Very handy to have. Takes up much less space and you can carry them with you with ease."

"Your father is an illusionist, isn't he?"

Donatien nodded, his eyes once again fixed on the rope he held.

"That's right, Madame. But not by profession anymore. More… as a hobby. But he's always put it to use."

"Has he never performed?"

"You mean on stage?"

"Yes."

"Once or twice. Some years ago. His illusions were considered very good and he made money but it wasn't quite…" He shrugged. "I'm not sure, Madame. He stopped a long time ago."

"But he teaches you."

"Yes. When he can. And what he can. Some of his tricks are, oh, spectacular, Madame! They are used by masters of illusion around the world!"

She smiled, a touch of sadness in her eyes.

"I knew a sort-of illusionist once…" He gave her a curious look but Christine changed topic. "You know, my father was a violinist! A great musician. He died… long before I truly started ever to pursue music, as a profession. But even I have sung his songs and sometimes I see sheet music of his pieces. He didn't compose all that much. Only a few songs. But they are still being played. And he left a great legacy of music for me. I think it is nice to know that we can carry on our fathers' passion sometimes, don't you?"

"Yes, Madame. I do. Though Father does rather object to my following in his shoes. I had to argue long and hard to convince him I was sure."

They both chuckled at the thought. Christine could easily see the young man pleading his case passionately to an older version of himself.

"Madeline is taking violin lessons." She said after a moment. "When she's old enough I'm going to give her my father's violin."

"I'm sure she will be overjoyed, Madame. The young Mam'selle speaks highly of her music. She seems very talented with her voice as well."

"Oh? You've heard her sing?"

"Only when she plays nearby the stables. Which is a lot these days," he laughed. "I do hope you don't mind, Madame. I don't mean any harm by teaching her a few little tricks now and then."

Christine waved his question away with her hand and smiled cheerily.

"Not at all. She loves it. And as a mother, what makes my child happy, makes me happy. Actually," she giggled and blushed, "I was going to ask… Leroux, do you think you could teach me something? Just a little thing. Well, I mean, you might not know it but, when I was a child, my father could do this amazing thing where he seemed to take his finger right off his hand, as though he'd actually-yes! That's it! You do know it!"

Donatien and Christine laughed together again, hers a bright, feminine laugh and his dark, almost purring.

"Yes, Madame. It's very simple. My father taught me this when I was barely knee high. Here…"

He stood up then and went to crouch beside her. Christine sat up straighter. The stableboy, not bothering to ask first, took up her hand in his own and folded them in a particular way. He manoeuvred and fiddled until, at last, Christine laughed in glee.

"Oh, that is so simple! And I never worked it out!"

"You were young, Madame."

"Did you work out how your father did it, before he told you?"

Donatien grinned. Again, it made Christine feel just a little unnerved. But she shook it off as just an unusual smile. Some people were like that. Some children seemed much older than their age, as the young man with her did.

"Yes. But I'm told I was always a very bright child. My nursemaid despaired of me."

"Indeed… Well," she sighed, "I should return to searching for my daughter."

"Oh, please, Madame, let me. You should practice so that you are ready to dazzle your audience later."

"Very well. If you find her in the gardens, would you send her straight inside?"

"Of course, Madame."

"And perhaps later you might show me how this rope ladder of your works. It seems intriguing."

"Very well, Madame."

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