A/N: Thanks for the reviews and encouragement! And now …

XIV

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Christine arrived at The Grange in less than half the time it usually took to get there. She practically fell from her horse to jump to the ground the instant she brought her mare to a stop. Fear still nipping at her heels, she ran up the stairs flanking the entrance and pounded on the door.

Grayson, the butler greeted her in clear shock. He took one look and stepped aside for her to enter, not bothering to announce her.

Arabella hurried into the foyer, her expression horrified at Christine's utter dishevelment: her face bruised and bloody, her lip split wide open, her hands drawing her cloak tight around her shaking body and her feet bare. Arabella hastened toward her, wrapping her arms around her in comfort, at the same time ordering one of the servants to fetch brandy, another to procure cloths and water, still another to find a change of clothes.

Violently trembling now that she'd reached safety, Christine held fast to her friend, burying her face against her neck. She remembered little else that followed. Her shock and pain blissfully took away all consciousness.

When she came to, she lay on the parlor sofa, Arabella tending the long scratch on Christine's cheek with a brandy-soaked cloth. Seeing her there, tears welled in Christine's eyes.

"What happened, dear friend?" Arabella whispered.

"Henri. He t-tried to …" she shook her head, unable to say the awful words.

The horror on Arabella's face made it clear she understood. She moved closer and stroked Christine's hair, shushing her and offering quiet words of consolation. "It's alright. Don't talk about it if it upsets you. Rest, Christine. You're safe now."

Safe … yes. Safe inside the parlor with Arabella. She was safe.

Christine tried in vain to relax. She couldn't stop shaking. Though it was foolish, she couldn't dismiss the certainty that Henri might barge in at any moment, demanding her return. Or worse…

The parlor doors flew open.

Christine gave a startled jump then a little cry of relief to see Raoul hurry toward her. His expression was frantic as he came to kneel beside the sofa. He took her outstretched hand in both of his and she wrapped her other hand around them.

"My God - Christine, what happened? I just arrived home from Gimmerton and Grayson told me you'd been hurt. Did you fall off your horse?"

She wanted to laugh at the idea but all she could do was cry and shake her head. "H-Henri … he… h-he…" The vile words again refused to come.

In great concern, he took in her face and dishevelment for the first time, noting her state of undress though her cloak hid the part of her shift that was torn. A rage such as Christine had never seen from Raoul blazed from his blue eyes and flushed his face red.

"Did Henri hurt you?"

She couldn't speak only nod.

Raoul surged to his feet, his every action harsh and controlled, as he moved toward a desk and opened a drawer.

Arabella jumped to her feet. "Raoul, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to The Heights and confront the beast." He pulled out a small wooden case. Christine was shocked to see him withdraw a pistol from it.

"N-no Raoul -"

"Think, Raoul, you can't go there -"

"N-not like this -"

Raoul looked up at them, his lips a tight white line. "It's time something was done. This sort of violent behavior has gone on far too long, and this is the worst." His features relaxed marginally as he looked at Christine's panic stricken face. "Do not fear. You're safe now."

Arabella moved forward. "Raoul, you cannot just ride to The Heights and shoot a man down in cold blood, no matter how deserving he is of it! There are still laws - you don't want to find yourself in prison!"

"I don't plan to shoot unless he attacks first. The gun is only a safeguard."

"What will you do?" Christine whispered, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

"Please, don't concern yourself." His eyes softened. "Don't cry, Lotte. It will be alright."

With a gentle touch against her head and a nod to Arabella, Raoul left them.

x

Time was so strange. Who could reason its nature? On occasion it would rush past, like a strong wind, to leave one breathless - with passion … in terror; while on other occurrences the equivalent would crawl, though the minutes, themselves, never altered in length…

A sluggish hour passed.

Then two.

Or perhaps it was a lifetime…

Christine, now dressed in borrowed clothing, sat sedately with Arabella in the parlor, sipping her fifth cup of tea and engaging in the pretense that all was well.

She had calmed considerably, her greater concern now for Raoul. She knew he could defend himself, but when Henri's violent moods overtook him, he could be unpredictable. She swallowed hard, the memory of his sudden attack and his repulsive hands on her body causing her to tremble again.

"The oddest thing happened yesterday," Arabella said, her voice well modulated and soft. "Raoul received a letter from Paris. From the opera house to which his father consigned him as patron."

Christine vaguely nodded, grateful to her friend for speaking of mundane matters, sure that she was only trying to get her mind off the fearful uncertainty of what was now happening and the lingering horror of what had occurred.

"It was the usual sort of letter, I'm told, bringing him up to date and giving a seasonal account of matters concerning the theatre."

"That's nice." Christine tried to manage a polite smile but the split in her lip made it impossible. She blinked back tears.

"Yes, well, Raoul said for all that, the letter was a trifle confusing. He's new at this sort of thing, of course, apparently the managers are too. They wrote of an urgent need for new members of the chorus, due to some performers being discharged and a few accidents that occurred during practices. They assured him that matters are being expertly handled, likely to reassure him there would be no loss of finances, and told him that auditions are currently being held to replace the performers. The letter went on to state that even those with little to no experience in theatre would be given an opportunity to audition so that the new opera would commence as scheduled."

Christine didn't know much about the workings of an opera house and shook her head. "What's so confusing about that?"

"They asked Raoul if he knows of anyone who might wish to try out."

The door to the parlor swung open and the women hurriedly looked that way.

Raoul entered, his fair curls tousled, a grim look on his face.

"Henri is dead."

Arabella pressed her fingers to her mouth in shock. "Did you kill him?"

"He was dead when I got there."

Christine's heart raced. "But – he was alive when I left!"

"When I got there, the constable was in attendance, along with a few men from town and Joseph, who found the body." Something in his eyes made Christine clutch her borrowed skirt in dread. "Christine, one of those men saw you leave The Heights in great haste. They think you murdered him."

Christine blinked fast, trying to think. "I did hit him in the head, but he was groaning when I left. Raoul – he was alive! You must believe me!"

He looked confused. "The constable said he was bludgeoned to death. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but under the circumstances you should know. His skull was crushed. With an iron kettle. There were scratches on his face, and when questioned Joseph told the constable of a fight he overheard some months ago when you swore to kill him."

Christine's eyes widened. She felt all the blood rush from her face and gripped the armrest.

"I swear to you, by all that is holy, I did not kill him. I didn't hit him that hard!" Or did she? She had been frantic in her fear, desperate to get away, and had used all the force in her bruised body to bring the empty kettle down on his head.

But crushed?

"Dear God, Raoul, what are we going to do?" Arabella asked.

"You cannot stay here." Raoul directed the terse words to Christine.

Tears of despair rushed to her eyes at his shocking rejection; clearly he didn't believe her.

"No, please Lotte! You misunderstand." He hastened to sit beside her and took her hand in both of his. "This is the first place they'll look. All of Gimmerton knows that this was your home for two years and we are your friends."

"Raoul, what are you suggesting?" Arabella asked in shock.

"We have to get Christine out of the area quickly. Somewhere safe, where no one will think to search for her."

"You don't mean …" Christine shook her head a little in disbelief. "… smuggle me out of the country?"

Raoul's eyes lit up, growing bluer. "That's an even better idea. I had thought perhaps, another town or district. London even. But after the Craven case, I'll take no chances."

The cousins shared a grim look.

"The Craven case?" Christine asked in dread.

"Leonora Craven, the daughter of a baron, accused of murdering him," Arabella explained softly. "There wasn't enough evidence to go on, the whole thing was really quite shocking …"

"The barrister was a sly devil who convinced the courts that she was immoral and guilty," Raoul continued where Arabella left off. "She was sentenced to die."

Christine felt dizzy. A distant part of her thought it amusing in a macabre way that at one time, not so long ago, she had wanted nothing else – and now she might be executed.

"Later, they learned she was innocent," Arabella put in sadly. "And after all the horrid ways they dragged her name through the mud, ruining her reputation beyond repair, then to take her life - when she wasn't even guilty! A sad miscarriage of justice."

As if sensing Christine's train of thought, Raoul squeezed her hand hard, giving it a little shake. "We are not going to let that happen to you. The question is where to send you."

A steady glow lit Arabella's dark eyes. "Oh, my word. It's perfect." She looked at Christine. "I know exactly the place. We were just speaking of it. The opera house!"

"In Paris?" Raoul asked.

Christine stared dumbly, recalling Arabella's news of current auditions. "But – I can barely dance well enough for anything of that nature! I've never even had lessons from a professional!"

"They did say little experience was necessary to audition. And you have an innate talent not often seen. I've taught you the basic steps and a few dances. For an audition, you could do it, I think …"

Raoul looked at his cousin with incredulous disbelief and no small amount of wonder.

"This is a professional company, Arabella! How would Christine ever obtain a part in the chorus? Her dancing is exquisite, I agree, but certainly amateur by their standing. Even were she to manage passing an audition, she could not bluff her way through the entire dancing programme!"

Arabella smiled slyly. "Have you forgotten, dear cousin? You are now their patron. You can recommend her, even accompany her to Paris and order the managers to give her a position. If not in the dance, then in some other capacity."

Raoul smiled. "You know, that might work."

Christine listened to their conversation with stunned interest and growing alarm.

"I appreciate your help, of course, but I don't wish either of you to find trouble on my account. If they'll be looking for me, they could be watching you. There is something you don't know…." She swallowed hard. "Elizabeth told me that her father is a police constable and once worked for Scotland Yard. He was good friends with Henri, close enough that he would give him his only daughter in marriage. Might he not investigate or ask others to do so?"

Raoul nodded grimly. "You bring up a valid point. There is that slim possibility. But I'm certainly not going to abandon you and send you off to fend for yourself alone!"

"More than a slim possibility I would think. Wherever I go, I should go alone."

"Perhaps Italy? An acquaintance of father's will be going there next week with his wife and children. And you did enjoy the Mediterranean."

"But Raoul," Arabella inserted. "Where will she stay until then if not here?"

"No, I don't think the Mediterranean is an option." Christine abhorred the idea of traveling with people she didn't even know. After what her vile cousin had done, she certainly could never entrust her protection to a stranger, even if he was a friend of the de Chagnys.

She withheld a shiver, the reality of Henri's death still hazy and unable to fully sink in.

Were they truly having a serious discussion about making her a fugitive of the law? She wished death on no man, yet felt nothing but relief that Henri would never again be a threat to her or anyone else…

Except that he was. Even in death, he caused her pain and sorrow.

They quietly argued several minutes longer. Raoul felt uneasy to let Christine go off alone to any country of which she barely knew the language. Christine was adamant that she at least had gained some experience with traveling and would know what to do on her own. Arabella championed Christine, reminding Raoul of her amazing mettle in the many difficulties she had been forced to face thus far, along with her reminder that his father had told them that many did speak their language where it was at last decided Christine should go. Raoul felt somewhat mollified that his new status would create no undue suspicion once he did arrive where Christine would be hiding, and he could then check on her and provide anything she might need…

At last all were in agreement concerning the details.

Christine sat back, still stunned, as Raoul hurriedly left the parlor to arrange for her immediate transport and escape to the opera house in Paris.

xXx

A/N: Muahahaha …. *rubs hands together in mad glee*

(I do so love a twist…don't you?)