Chapter 26
Madeline embraced and fussed over Alex throughout breakfast, much to his displeasure. He wrinkled his nose and hunched his shoulders as she combed her fingers through his waves of dark hair.
"You behave yourself," she warned. "You listen to your mother and father at all times and do not wander off."
"I will."
"And you do not go near the water. Is that understood?"
Alex looked appalled at her suggestion. "But I want to learn to swim! Father promised me!"
Madeline flashed me an uneasy look, which was accompanied by Alex issuing a pleading, wide-eyed stare in my direction. For days he had incessantly rambled on and on about his desire to learn how to swim and hold his breath for "a very long time, like a dolphin" as he had put it.
"Alex will be fine," I said.
Alex grinned, as I expected, and Madeline looked as though she would wrap her hands around my neck.
"He may enter the ocean alone up to the middle of his shins," I stated.
"And what if the waves claim him?" Madeline threw her head back and feigned a fainting spell, to which Julia rose from her seat beside me in alarm. In her haste, Julia misstepped and nearly fell back into her chair, but thankfully I caught her by the arm and steadied her.
"My goodness, that is more than enough," Julia scolded. She looked directly at me when she spoke, but before I could protest, a knock at the door sent Bessie howling through the house and both children scrambling toward the front door.
"The carriage must have arrived," Julia said. She looked to the clock in the dining room and began collecting unfinished plates of food. "Twenty minutes ahead of schedule."
"The carriage will wait twenty minutes," I replied.
Julia pursed her lips and grimaced. Her face looked more pale than usual, almost ashen. I grabbed her by the wrist and she turned toward me, her mouth somewhat twisted in frustration.
"Are you well?" I asked.
"Never better," she said under her breath. "Of all days, the carriage driver decides to be early on this one."
Ruby peeked her head into the dining room just as Julia reached for my full plate of food. "Madame Kire! No, no, I will take the plates. You attend to more important matters."
Julia thanked Ruby and turned in a full circle. "Thank goodness I packed your clothing," she said as she glanced at me.
Because clearly I was incapable and would toss all of my belongings into a trunk the moment someone knocked on the door, I wanted to sardonically reply. Wisely I nodded in agreement.
"Julia, if you would not mind, I would like a word with your husband," Madeline said.
In her frantic state, Julia merely offered a wave of her hand in acknowledgement before she chased down the children and dog, who, by the sound of it, was making a game of chasing the carriage driver around the carriage. Julia did not notice Ruby issue a knowing smile in my direction as I continued with breakfast.
"You should be cautious," Madeline said from her place across from me once Ruby returned to the kitchen and Julia was far from earshot.
I glanced up at her before taking another bite of bread slathered in honey and jam, which I purposely savored to keep from answering her. I should have known Madeline did not ask for a moment of my time in order for me to finish eating.
"I am well aware," I grumbled.
"I do not mean about Alexandre being close to the water, although I am quite concerned you will give that boy far too much freedom."
"He will be fine."
Madeline tilted her chin up and stared at me down her nose.
With a sigh, I stared at my cup of tea, my irritation on the rise as she insisted on ruining my meal. "Must you be so coy, Madame?"
"You know precisely what I mean."
"Would you rather Alex and Lisette stay with you then? For the next ten days?"
Madeline shrugged and puckered out her lips. "It would be my pleasure to take care of them."
"With Meg, two new infants, Aria and Bessie?" I added.
Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly, but she decided to be as stubborn as me. "I would not mind one bit," she huffed.
"Indeed," I snorted.
Madeline purposely avoided my gaze as she scooted her chair back from the table and tossed her napkin onto her unfinished plate in disgust. Once she stood within arm's reach of me, however, her gaze locked on mine and I recalled what it was like to be a boy of thirteen beneath the Opera House with her standing over me.
It had been a very long time since she had issued such a glare-the last time being days before Don Juan Triumphant when she knew of my plans. Perhaps she should have glared at me more often.
Realizing my disadvantage as I remained seated, I grabbed my food off my plate and stood so that I towered over her. "I do beg your pardon, Madame."
"Sit," she said through her teeth.
"I would rather not."
Madeline slammed the end of her cane on the wooden floor and I slowly dropped back into my seat.
"Nadir," she whispered.
I made every attempt to remain stone-faced, but the name she spoke made my heart stutter. "What of him?" I growled.
Madeline narrowed her eyes and looked me over in silence, which I did not care for one bit. The gall of that woman to not only issue me orders but blatantly stare at me grated on my last nerve.
"You draw each breath with the intent of irritating me, do you not?" I said before biting off another piece of bread.
She chose to ignore my tone as she shifted her weight. "You never told me what happened in those days," she said, keeping her voice low as Alex stomped through the foyer and began shouting.
"I will bring your bags to the carriage, Mother!" Alex yelled as though every single person in Paris needed to hear his voice. "I am stronger than I look. That is what Father always says."
"What would I do without you, my dear?" Julia replied.
Their voices grew more distant and I assumed the two of them stepped outside to the carriage. Once the front door slammed shut, Madeline pulled out what had been Julia's seat and settled in beside me.
"What days?" I asked as I kept my attention trained on my plate. Although I knew precisely what she meant, I had no intention of aiding her as she pried for information.
"Persia," she said, her tone unusually bold. "When I was certain you were dead."
My mouth went dry, my gaze once again locked on her unwavering glare. Jaw clenched, I merely stared back, having no idea what she wanted from me or what I should say on my behalf.
"When you returned half dead," she added, biting off her words. She held the top of her cane in a knuckle white grasp. "You remember when I found you-"
"Of course I do," I muttered as I finally looked away. It took all of my strength to suppress a shiver.
My breathing turned ragged and I stood abruptly. My legs threatened to give way and I locked my knees as I stared at the dining room mirror and my listless reflection. I could still picture the dirt covering the creases in my flesh, the splits to my knuckles and splinters embedded beneath my fingernails. My lips were so dry they had cracked open, my body so weakened from torture and starvation I had no idea how I found my way back to the opera house. Somehow, after years of absence, I found my way to Madeline's apartment and crawled on hands and knees to her side.
I should not have survived my time within the palace. At the very least, I should have lost my eyes, however, the Little Sultana had suggested it be every organ stripped of my body one by one until I died a most horrific death. Dissecting a living corpse, she had said, to see if I truly had a beating heart.
"The wounds," Madeline continued with a slow shake of her head. She looked up at me with sympathy. "To this day I have never seen anything like it."
Her words should have enraged me, but instead I felt a deep sense of remorse and shame. I stood frozen in place, wanting her to berate me for my misdeeds, a reminder of how I had taken much more from this life than I would ever deserve.
"I pray you never do," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Nadir assured me everyone thought you were dead," Madeline said. "But it seems he was mistaken."
Our eyes met again. "You have seen him? Recently?" I questioned as I once again found myself seated.
Madeline shook her head and looked away from me. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Not since that last night."
No matter how many years passed, the performance of Don Juan Triumphant, the evening of the Opera House fire, would be referred to as merely that last night or that last evening when it came to conversations between Madeline and myself. Most of the time I had aggravated Madeline to the point where she felt the need to remind me of that hellish evening, of the greatest disaster Paris had ever seen. Madeline knew damn well every time she mentioned that last evening I stormed off to my room, slammed the door shut, and spent hours locked in darkness stewing in my own tumultuous thoughts.
This morning, however, storming off was not an option.
"Then what has made you think of him?" I asked. "Clearly this is not some passing thought."
"I saw a man who was the spitting image of Nadir on my way to the store for more diapers," Madeline confided in me. "He looked exactly like the Daroga did ten years ago."
The hairs on my arms rose, but I did not make a remark much less blink. His nephews had most certainly found me as they had always looked like younger versions of their uncle. I thought back to what Archie Leach had said about two men with packages from Germany arriving at their shared residence and wondered if they had somehow escaped the Little Sultana or been sent into exile. Their uncle had been forced from the palace shortly after I had managed to escape. I had always wondered if he dared return to his homeland.
"Erik, are you listening?" Madeline asked.
I was not certain if she had continued to speak or not while my mind wandered, but I turned my attention toward her once more. "Did they approach you?"
"They? I only saw one man." She paused and sat further back, her brow knit with trepidation. She inhaled sharply and placed her hand over her heart. "My God, you are expecting them, I assume?"
Dreaded was a more apt description. Honestly, I never expected to see any of them-including Nadir-and yet he had found me in the Opera House. I suppose for a ghost I was not always inconspicuous.
"Did the man approach you?" I asked again, finding it nearly impossible to contain my agitation.
"Why would he?"
"I have no idea."
Madeline narrowed her eyes and I scoffed at her.
"I truly have no idea what they would want with me twenty years after I esca… departed that dreadful place."
"Escaped," Madeline echoed. Her eyes turned glassy, features taut.
"Are we done?" I growled.
For a long moment Madeline did nothing more than stare at me with a look of complete malice, which I realized I more than deserved.
"You have no idea how many nights I searched for you."
"Madeline-"
"No, you will listen to me," she snapped, her slender index finger trembling as she pointed in my face.
Hands folded, I conceded and sat back, fully expecting twenty years of rage to surface at last.
"For weeks I returned to the lakeside," Madeline said, her voice so low I could barely hear her. "Every single day, before and after performances, I searched for you. I thought perhaps you had drowned in the lake or fallen down the stairs. I thought perhaps you had taken ill. Over and over I told myself no, Erik would not just leave without so much as a note. Something has happened to him."
She paused and searched my face for answers. As much as I wanted to abruptly excuse myself, I sat with my lips parted, unable to defend or justify my actions. As far as I could recall, Madeline had never alluded to searching for me. Although I assumed she would be disappointed in me for leaving the Opera House, I had not thought she would go to such lengths in order to find me.
"I worried, I prayed, I searched on my days off and still nothing for weeks, then months, and suddenly a year passed, then a second...then a third. And do you know I still searched for you? Still worried for your safety? I placed an ad in the newspaper every six months and begged you to contact me. Nothing.
"And then a man's body washed up not far from the Opera House three years after you disappeared, his face unrecognizable. I thought for certain it was you, but a family claimed the body and the mystery continued, but I never gave up. I still prayed you would return or send me a letter letting me know you were alive."
"You should not have concerned yourself," I muttered without an ounce of conviction to my words.
"Why not?" she challenged.
"Because I was not worth a single second of your time," I blurted out.
Madeline blanched at my statement. "How could you say such a thing? I thought the world of you," she whispered, her voice quivering. "I still do. By now you should know this."
"And have I not disappointed you time and again?"
"Of course you have." She grunted and placed her hand over my balled up fist. "And many more times you have impressed me beyond words. Why else do you think I would be so concerned for you now?"
I focused on Madeline's hand resting over mine, something she had done often when I was a confused and angry youth. No matter how much I pushed, no matter how many mistakes and missteps, she had always refused to turn her back on me. For years she was the only person who knew I existed in the world, my only source of companionship and sole audience when I played the violin. She was my sister, my mother, and my only friend. She had been everything to me.
"I thought of you every single day when I was there," I mumbled. "I wrote you several times, but the letters were never delivered."
Madeline did not ask why and I had no desire to elaborate further. My heart hammered against my rib cage, my hands trembling noticeably as memories flooded my thoughts.
"After a while I was certain you would forget me." I paused, feeling more raw and exposed before Madeline than I had the first day she had seen me within the cage at the traveling fair. "That is not quite the truth. I hoped you would forget me. I suppose I convinced myself that if you forgot about me, I could no longer hurt you."
"Why did you leave?"
"Utter foolishness," I answered. "For which I have no excuse."
Boredom, frustration...myriad reasons that seemed inconsequential once I found a different traveling fair, offered to put myself on display for seventy-five percent of the profits, and ended up being drugged and sold to the Sultan.
"You kept me alive," I continued. "When there was not a shred of hope I would see the next sunrise, I thought of you and your kindness, and for brief moments I felt as though I returned to the Opera House. The lake, the rooftop, the box seats during Fidelio...I thought of your kindness and somehow I survived."
Madeline squeezed my hand tighter and stifled a sob. At last I allowed her fingers to lace with mine and thought of how close we had once been, how she had been both a mother and a sister to me despite no blood ties. No matter how far I had fallen, she was the one person willing to kneel beside me.
"You should be retired and living on the seaside," I remarked, recalling how she had once told me of her desire to save all of her funds from ballet and move to the beach. In a way I felt as though I had stolen happiness from her, erased the life she had imagined the moment our paths had crossed.
"You remembered."
I offered a single nod.
Madeline merely shrugged. "My life is here," she said. "With the best coffee, pastries, and the finest living the world has to offer. My children, my grandchildren...why would I want to be anywhere else?"
"Do you regret it?" I asked suddenly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Do you regret helping me?" I asked without looking her in the eye. "That night at the fair?"
Madeline loosened her grasp on my outstretched hand, and I dreaded her words. She was slow to answer and at last I turned to face her, expecting to see the regret in her eyes.
Her expression showed nothing but remorse. I bowed my head and swallowed hard, feeling the weight of shame that had plagued me for a lifetime. Of course she regretted her decision, I thought to myself. Deep inside I had always known the answer. Perhaps over the years she grew accustomed to disappointment, but I had no doubt she realized what a burden I had been to her.
"You have always over thought every little detail," she said, making every attempt to keep her tone light. Her words drew my attention back to her. "Always the one to strive for perfection."
"I could not be further from perfect."
With a close-lipped smile, Madeline shook her head. "Why would you ask such a thing? Of course I do not regret freeing you that night. Not in the least."
"I have done nothing for you."
"I did not expect anything in return."
"You should have."
Madeline furrowed her brow. "Such as?"
"More than I ever offered," I answered miserably.
"You are far too hard on yourself, Erik, especially the day after your wedding." She sighed heavily. "I suppose I should not have provoked you."
"I need no provocation, which you know well."
"No, you do not," Madeline agreed.
"I desire to be a better man," I said. "And yet no matter how far removed I wish to be from my past, I am never more than a step ahead. Do you have any idea what it feels like to regret four decades? Every flaw, every mistake..." I glanced at my reflection in the dining room mirror. "Always with me, no matter what I do. Sometimes it feels as though I will be eaten alive by my nightmares."
Madeline frowned as she followed my gaze to the mirror and realized what had caught my attention, but she nodded all the same.
"Perhaps you will not believe my words, but I see a better man," she replied as she stood and I rose beside her. She balanced briefly on the tips of her toes and motioned for me to bend forward as she gently kissed me on my left cheek. "Your wife and your son see it as well. Surely you notice whenever you are near, Alex lights up."
Her words meant everything to me. I had long forgotten how much a simple word of praise from her meant, how I had craved her kindness. From the moment we had first met, she saw me differently than the rest of the world. Not once had she ever asked me to cover my ruined face. Not once had she grimaced or screamed at the sight of me.
"I will never understand what you saw in me that first night," I whispered.
Madeline looked up at me and took a deep breath. "Yes, you will. I have always had faith in you."
"I am indebted to you, Madame. I mean that sincerely."
She took a step back and leaned on her cane, which I hadn't seen her use frequently. I suspected the long walk to the store and back for diapers had taken its toll on her bad knee. "You owe me nothing, however, if you wish to do something for me, I do have one request before you leave for your holiday."
"Anything," I replied as I stood up straighter and thought of how I had wished to please her long ago. Absently she picked lint off my shirt and straightened my collar.
"Tell me honestly, are you in danger?" Madeline asked quietly.
My lips parted and I had no idea how to answer her truthfully. More than anything, I feared I would disappoint her once again.
