IX
.
Christine almost received her wish to die.
Despite the bleak darkness and bitter cold, she stayed outdoors in the rain until her body went numb, while hoping and praying he would turn around and come back – by God, if only to confront her and yell at her for all the horrible things she'd said, to shake her senseless and call her any name he wished, if only to give her the chance to explain – but he never did. He once told her that she was the sole reason he remained at The Heights. And now … now she had sent him away because of her hurt pride and with careless, empty words of spite that belonged to the cold heart of a stranger.
She staggered back to the manor and into the kitchen.
Berta let out a cry, rushing to her side.
"Joseph," Christine grated through a hoarse, gravelly throat and chattering teeth, "Send Joseph to Gimmerton to find him … he must have gone there. Bring him home, Berta."
"Yes, yes, of course child. First we must get you out of those wet things -"
"Promise me, Berta!" Christine coughed harshly. "Do it. Do it now …" With no strength left in her bones and little spirit to care, she collapsed to the floor.
x
Over the next week, Christine battled for each troubled breath, her lengthy exposure to the rain so soon after her harrowing plight at The Grange bringing with it a dangerously high fever and congestion in her chest. Throughout that dark time she woke for brief periods and in scant flashes of recognition, pleaded to see Erik, demanding the servants bring him to her, cursing them when they wouldn't, refusing to take any of the broth Berta tried to feed her. Her dreams were frightening, surreal, always containing Erik far in the distance, Christine never able to reach him. More than once she awoke screaming for him and Berta hurried to tend her.
Her condition worsened and they brought in the minister to deliver last rites. Berta cried at her bedside. Through the thick haze in her ears, Christine heard the dour minister asking God for pity upon her wretched soul - then again she slipped into deep oblivion.
She awoke late in the night to see in the glow of one burning candle that Erik approached her bed. He stopped close by her side but only looked at her, his expression grave. Overjoyed to see him, eager to embrace him, she tried to move but discovered she could not. Her body felt like dead weight, as if invisible ties bound her to the mattress.
"Erik …?" she whispered fearfully.
He did not touch her, but his beautiful golden eyes seared into hers, his words fierce – "Do not let death separate us - fight, Christine! Fight, as you have never fought before!"
She opened her eyes suddenly to find the room still and dimly lit, with Berta dozing in a chair, and realized with a pang of dismay that it had all been a dream. No matter how real it had felt, Erik wasn't there. But his quiet demand lingered in her mind, and the vow they made to one another on The Summit strengthened her resolve.
Slowly, she did fight to regain her health, no longer refusing any of the broths or tonics but taking whatever Berta gave her like a docile child. At the physician's next visit, he expressed wonder at her improvement, clearly astonished to see she yet lived, but warned her that she should remain quiet and stay in bed.
Feeling aware once more, after spending days with her mind trapped in a feverish delirium, Christine addressed her faithful old nursemaid with the subject closest to her heart. "Tell me, please, Berta. Did Joseph find him? Is he here? I want to speak with Erik. I can no longer wait. I must speak with him."
Berta sniffled into her hand, and Christine saw how red-rimmed her eyes were. She had thought her tears for her, but why should she still cry since the doctor had said she was recovering?
"Berta, something is wrong. Tell me."
The servant briskly shook her head and hurried to the door.
"Berta!" Though weak, Christine managed to sit up, putting her weight on her arm. "What has happened?"
"I cannot say, Miss. I – I will fetch the master."
"But I don't want Henri, I want –" Christine weakly fell back against the pillows in frustration. The last person she wanted to see was her snide cousin. The recollection of the awful stripes across Erik's back had made her physically ill and horribly ache, as if she bore his wounds, and she doubted she would be able to speak to Henri with an ounce of civility.
She had begun to think Berta forgot to convey a message by the time her door finally opened. Henri strode inside, his manner arrogant.
"Christine, dear cousin. I see that you have managed to escape a dire fate. I am pleased to see that you have recovered, but really, my dear, such childish behavior cannot be tolerated. All of this over that worthless gypsy servant? Tsk, tsk."
She compressed her lips in a tight line at his condescension, looking away from his pitiless eyes. She never did understand why Henri hated Erik so much.
"Well, no matter. I daresay the beast is now burning for his multitude of sins. You need not concern yourself with him any longer."
The offhand manner in which he delivered his quiet statement brought goose bumps scattering over her flesh. She glared at him in dread. "What atrocity have you committed against him this time?"
"I, dear girl? No, unfortunately I wasn't given the privilege, though I would gladly shake the hand of the man who ended the wretch's life – perhaps cross his palm with gold for a well-deserved reward."
She stared. "Y-you lie. Erik's not … he's not …" She couldn't bring herself to say the word.
"Not experiencing eternal damnation and burning in the fires of hell? Now …" He pulled something from his pocket and flung it in her lap. "I wouldn't go as far as to say that."
Christine looked down in horror at the black scrap of silk. Gingerly, she fingered the eye hole. Thick spatters of brown covered the material … like … dried …
Blood.
"A man near Gimmerton recognized Cesar and knew your worthless gypsy friend stole my horse. Shot the thief in the back days ago. I thought you might like a souvenir, all that's left of him now."
"Shot him …?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Yes, my dear. Stone dead."
His words became lost in the fierce gust of wind rushing through her ears.
"Henri," Elizabeth said from the doorway, hurrying to Christine's side and pulling her head close, smoothing her hair in a vain attempt at comfort. "You mustn't vex the poor girl so! She's been through such a frightful ordeal as it is."
"Merely trying to get her to see reason, my dear. She always has been obstinate when it comes to the matter of that filthy gypsy."
"I should think there would have been a better way to go about expressing such news. It is quite obviously upsetting to her. Why, her poor little face has gone positively white!"
"Please go." Christine's lips barely moved as she spoke in a quiet whisper.
Elizabeth regarded her in uncertainty. "I don't wish to leave you like this …"
Christine's eyes fell closed, shutting the woman out. She sat unmoving and barely heard when they finally left and her door closed, leaving her alone in her torment.
"You swore you would never let death separate us," she whispered.
She dropped her dull gaze to his cloth mask, slowly curling it in her hand.
"You swore it."
All their shared dreams … all of her hopes … gone in the vile breath it took to utter the dreadful words.
Erik …
never to return …
dead.
She tightened her fist around the silk as shock gave way to grief, so deep, she felt as if her heart had shattered and was being extracted from her body, piece by piece.
He'd already taken every part of her soul with him the night he left.
She struggled to breathe. Hot tears rolled down her face as she slowly tilted it back. The rising tide of anguish relentlessly tore apart what was left of her being in a scream of rage and pain and hatred that ripped from her tight throat and grew in trembling crescendo.
"Nooooooo!"
She grabbed the filmy curtains hanging around her bed.
"Noooooooo!"
Wrenching them violently, she tore them from their racks.
"NOOOOOO!"
Insensible to anything but the crippling pain of her heartbreak she beat the pillow against the mattress then shredded it until feathers swirled in a mad dance of mockery all around her.
"NO! NO! NO - damn you - NO!"
Gasping for breath, her sobs harsh and uncontrolled, she cried her useless plea with each slam and tear and pull - knowing what Henri said must be true, knowing Erik would never be absent of his mask. And the blood … the blood …
Oh God, the blood!
She whisked the pitcher and basin off the table. The porcelain crashed to the floor in jagged pieces. Wishing to die and join him, she viciously tore at the neck of her nightdress with another anguished cry, just as the door swung open.
"Lord be merciful – mistress!"
Berta ran to Christine, trying to prevent her from further slashing her skin with her nails. Christine fought her off, turning her sharp nails on her like an enraged, wounded animal. At last Berta managed to haul Christine's hands away, holding them firmly against her stomach while pulling her back against her in tight embrace. Tears washed down her cheeks as she rocked Christine, whose weeping now came so deep and fierce she could no longer inhale to breathe.
Berta shook her a little in alarm. "Miss Christine!"
Christine's eyes bugged as she continued to sob and gasp hoarsely, growing fainter with the inability to take in breath.
Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, her eyes and mouth going wide with appalled shock at the sight of the damaged room and Christine, who looked like a madwoman with her hair wild and bloody scratches across her chest, and Berta bearing a similar scratch across her cheek.
"Mistress – send someone for the doctor! Quick!"
Elizabeth hurried away.
"There, lamb," Berta drew Christine to her bosom and held her tightly, rocking her like the babe she'd once been, "There, there …"
Christine barely felt aware of anything as her violent sobbing ebbed, her breathing quieted, and she slipped into a still place of darkness beyond what her mind could handle in the horror of her present reality.
.
xXx
.
Berta opened the door to Raoul and Arabella, her eyes widening in surprise. "My lord, my lady, we were not expecting you."
"I know this really is quite dreadful of us to drop by unannounced and so early in the day," Arabella began, "and my cousin did inform me it isn't polite without first being invited, but I've been so worried about Christine and her receiving such bad tidings so soon after having been ill. We … heard the news."
Berta sadly clucked her tongue. "Miss Christine is in a sorry state to be sure. I think she actually welcomes death, though saints be merciful, I pray it doesn't come to that. Your visit might be just the tonic the poor lamb needs." Berta remembered how highly Christine had praised the de Chagnys and let them inside. "She's in the kitchen."
"The kitchen?" the Vicomte asked in surprise.
"I had Joseph carry her down so she could sit by the fire to warm herself. The chill is fierce upstairs with the turn in the weather and she just over that accursed fever."
Henri sat in the main room near a blazing fire with Elizabeth on his lap and welcomed the visitors with delight, pushing her up to stand, as he did the same. They exchanged brief pleasantries before Raoul explained the purpose of their visit.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, but my cousin isn't up to company at the moment." Henri's face flushed red.
The de Chagnys exchanged glances. "Nonetheless, we should like to see her," Raoul said with a barely polite nod. "Berta, would you please show us to the kitchen?"
"The - the kitchen?" Henri blubbered in shock.
"Certainly. I wish to see Christine for myself," Arabella said staunchly. "I have been so concerned of late, since we heard the news of –"
Raoul put a hand to her arm and she curbed whatever else she was going to say.
"As you wish." Henri curtly nodded for Berta to show them the way.
The sight that greeted the cousins caused both of them to halt in the entrance in horrified shock.
Though it was midday, Christine sat in her nightdress in a chair before the coal and peat fire, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her feet were bare. Her face was as white as death, her cheekbones pronounced, her eyes dark-shadowed and vacant as she stared ahead at nothing. Her hair was wild and ratted, and she truly did have the appearance of a specter.
"My God!" Raoul exclaimed softly.
Arabella rushed forward and knelt by her side, pressing Christine's cold, limp hands between her warm ones. "Christine, Christine dear! It's Arabella … can you hear me?"
Christine gave no response, no sign of movement. She didn't even blink.
"How long has she been like this?" Raoul demanded of Berta.
"A week now, since the day she heard the news of poor young Erik," the servant sadly admitted. "She will not eat. I have to feed porridge to her like a babe and force her to swallow. She will not speak or move. She just sits there and stares at nothing, as if willin' herself to die."
"This is unconscionable!" Raoul swiftly moved toward Christine. To the other women's shock, he scooped her up from the chair and into his arms. Christine showed no sign of awareness that he was even there.
"Sir!" Berta cried. "I must protest."
"Her cousin evidently is too preoccupied with his newly wedded state to see to her well being. I'm taking her to The Grange where she will receive the proper care."
"I have done my best –"
"I meant no slight against you, Berta. With your task of running this household, you cannot spend each moment by her side indefinitely. She needs someone who can be with her day in and day out. We have many servants and the best physician in all of Gimmerton to aid her."
Berta gave an uneasy nod.
"No need to pack her things, we'll supply whatever she lacks." For the first time Raoul noticed her hand lying in her lap, gripped tightly around a scrap of black silk. "What's that she holds?"
"I don't know, sir. She won't let go of it. If you try to wrest it from her fist, she comes to life, spitting and clawing like a she-devil. 'Tis the only time she shows any sign of being counted among the living; but rather than risk her nails raking across my face again, I've just let her hold onto it."
"Thank you, Berta. I'll keep that in mind," he said gravely.
"I assure you, Berta, she will have the very best of care," Arabella said with a reassuring nod.
The two cousins swept out the door with Christine and to their waiting carriage.
A/N: And so, this chapter begins one of several areas where I'm taking a new direction ...if you're still with me, I don't think you'll be disappointed ...