AN: Only two more updates before the book will be available for purchase! How exciting! I am sincerely thankful for my readers. Writing this story has made me doubt my writing abilities more than I ever have in the past, but rereading and editing for the official release I am growing more confident in my work.
(And yes, after the official release I will continue to update it here until it is up in its entirety)
On to part three!
Chapter 16
Chagny, 1859
It was a warm, sunny afternoon when a baby boy was born to the Comte and Comtesse de Chagny, and they were overjoyed. But their joy wouldn't last long. After the baby, little Raoul, had taken his leave from her body, the Comtesse de Chagny developed a bleed that the midwife could not slow or stop. She was dead before nightfall, having only held her newborn once.
The Comte wanted nothing to do with the babe from that point on, leaving him in the care of the wet nurse and the baby's two older sisters. He busied himself with making preparations for his eldest son, Philippe, to return from the Navy and study at a college in Paris.
The boy, far more delicate than any baby the de Chagny sisters had ever been in contact with, quickly became their greatest source of joy. There did not pass a day when little Raoul wasn't doted upon by his sisters, who dressed him in finery and curled his hair, making certain that the little boy was given plenty of hugs and kisses as well.
It wasn't until October that Philippe returned home, and it was only then that he learned of the sad fate of his mother or of the existence of his brother. Immediately he made for the nursery, where he stood at his sleeping brother's side and stared at him for a long, long time.
Nobody expected the young man to like the baby, let alone show any semblance of love toward him. But from the first moment he saw the babe with his sandy blond hair and icy blue eyes, Philippe was in love. He vowed to never allow his brother to want for anything that he could provide. Seeing how his father blatantly ignored Raoul, he decided that he would take over as the boy's father.
The Comte was not pleased when Philippe decided his time would be better spent at home, helping to raise his brother and learning the family business, but as the boy was entering his third decade on earth he decided it was not his place to try and force him to attend college. This respect for his eldest son as his own adult did not mean that he would refrain from trying to change his mind.
"How can you willingly hold yourself back for the sake of a baby? He is not your son, not your responsibility. You need an education," said the Comte as he and his elder children took their supper one blustery November evening. Philippe rolled his eyes and continued to butter a slice of bread.
"We've been over this, father," he replied, his green eyes sparkling in the candlelight as he looked over at the old man. "I've no interest in wasting my time learning things that won't further my life or Raoul's."
"Why factor Raoul into any of your decisions? Your brother is not your burden to bear."
"No, you're absolutely right about that, father," Philippe replied quietly. The Comte raised an eyebrow and sipped his wine, but said nothing to prompt any further response.
"He's really becoming quite a lovely boy," one of Philippe's sisters chimed in. "He's really taken to smiling and laughing at us when we make funny faces at him."
"Yes," agreed his other sister. "So expressive. He'll be such a charmer when he grows up."
"Philippe, my son, why not favor us with a tale from your travels on the high seas?" the Comte asked with a great sigh. Philippe gave him a curious look. What tales there were to tell had been told weeks ago when he'd returned.
"I've told all there is to tell, father," he said after a long pause. "Why are you so adverse to the idea of speaking kindly of your other son?"
"I've nothing to say of the baby," was the Comte's only reply. This only served to anger Philippe.
"You've abandoned your youngest child out of grief. How can you deprive him of both parents so willingly? By all accounts it was not Raoul's fault that mother's life ended so abruptly. I am willing to pretend for my brother, but he should have his father, not a substitute."
"I have but one son," the Comte replied.
"Father!" both girls said in unison, positively scandalized by his words.
"How can you say that?" Philippe demanded. "How can you possibly believe that?"
The Comte opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a weak choking sound. His eyes widened before rolling back in his head, and he collapsed forward into his plate.
His daughters shrieked as Philippe leapt forward. Alas, the Comte had been dead before his head hit his plate, a blood vessel in his brain burst from stress.
And so it was that Raoul's only parental figures would be his sisters and brother. The baby would never know the difference, would hardly be aware of the absence of the woman who had given her life for him to have his or the man who hadn't been able to see himself as his father.