Ring. Ring. Riiiing.
Christine starts at the noise. looking up from her breakfast of a croissant and poached egg. "What is that?"
"I installed an announcement bell at the Rue Scribe entrance in the event Nadir wished to contact me," Erik says, rising from his place at the table, placing his napkin next to the China plate. "Leaving messages in Box Five made communication too difficult."
Christine rises as well, picking up their dishes she follows Erik into the kitchen. "I shall wash these up while you go get him. Should I prepare more tea?"
Erik shakes his head. "We have no time to chat, our train leaves in three hours and I do not wish to be late."
"Maybe Madame sent him to pick up Isis, that will save time," she suggests. "She has him wrapped around her finger. He seems quite smitten."
"True enough. Who would have believed either of them would find the other attractive."
"Madame is quite beautiful."
"In her way, I suppose," he says. "I never quite looked at her in that way."
"And M. Khan…Nadir…is most handsome."
"So I have heard," Erik replies, his tone carrying a slight edge.
"Do not worry. I have no interest in him, other than as a friend," Christine says, rolling her eyes. "Now go quickly, the longer it takes you to retrieve him is less time for us to complete our preparations."
Watching him exit into the small pantry leading to the Rue Scribe door, she wishes she had not mentioned Nadir's good looks. Hard as she tries, she cannot imagine what Erik experienced because of his face. For herself, she was aware of her prettiness. Not beautiful like La Sorelli…or Madame Giry. Even though she is older and her face carries tiny lines around her dark eyes and thin lips, there is a refinement to her straight nose and high cheekbones. An overall elegance to her carriage and manner Christine is certain found many a man waiting for her after a performance.
Erik's comment about not finding her beautiful brings a smile to her lips. Has he ever allowed himself to find a woman pretty? To truly notice a woman? Even with her, his focus tends toward her voice and while he cares about her appearance – the garments he chose for her to wear – he never comments on her face.
Does he even notice the faces of others or does he simply avoid looking closely because of his own? His comment about Nadir was particularly odd. Who else might have commented on the Persian's face? What sort of relationship did they have in the past? So much to learn about him.
There are moments when she does focus on the deformity – taking in the distorted skin on his face and neck, how his lower lip seems melted. Thanks to massage and him not wearing the wig all the time, his hair is growing back enough to cover the odd gap in his skull. When she first saw the opening, she wondered how he could survive with such an opening.
"There is a thick membrane, not as heavy as bone, obviously, but sufficient to offer protection. I might not have survived childhood without it. My mother would cover my entire head with a cloth bag with holes cut out for my eyes, nose and mouth. In any event, now all my wigs have a piece of metal covered in soft cotton to give additional protection."
Would she prefer he have a normal face? Of course. To say otherwise would be a lie, but her words to him the night before were true. His appearance does not matter. Seeing Raoul for his true self was proof enough one's appearance did not always show the real person. In many ways, Raoul was prettier than she. Where her bone structure was strong – high cheekbones and a firm chin, he still carried the look of a child with a soft round face with smooth pale skin and fine curly he was only a year or so older than she, he still looked like the boy at the shore. The boy to whom she pledged her undying love.
"Whatever happens after this summer, I promise I will find you and we will be wed."
"If that could only be true," she replied. "I believe I shall love you forever."
"Promise you will wait for me."
Over the subsequent years, she came to realize it was unlikely their paths would cross again. While not famous in any real sense, Pappa became quite well known with many people seeking him out in the towns they visited throughout France. Each summer they returned to Perros, but, if the de Chagny family was there, she was not aware of their presence.
When he appeared in her dressing room after her debut in Hannibal, she realized he never grew up from that time in so many ways. Raouls acted as if the eight years since she pledged her troth to him as a young girl never happened. As far as he was concerned, she was still in his thrall.
Although his death is never discussed, she thinks about that night often. She blamed herself – wondering what might have changed things. Going over and over their meetings and how she might have prevented his death short of giving in to him and keeping a promise she made when little more than a child.
Shaking off the memory, she tends to the washing up. Despite Erik's saying not to, she put on the kettle to heat the water in the event M. Khan…Nadir wished for some tea. It would not do to have a guest and not offer him refreshment, especially at his first visit here.
"This is quite a route you created," Nadir says. Struggling slightly to keep up with Erik as he leads him to the entrance of his underground home. "How many traps did you set up?"
"Three," Erik replies.
"One would seem to have been enough, if my personal experience is any indication of their effectiveness."
"I had time on my hands," Erik snaps. "Something I do not have at the moment."
"Adele sent me to get the cat," Nadir says amiably. "I should think you would be pleased to be relieved of that errand. Where are you going anyway?"
"Not that it is any of your business but we are travelling to St. Martin de Boucherville."
"Where you were born?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Are you planning on riddling me with questions during your entire visit?"
"Probably," the Persian chuckles. "You can take a man out of the police force but he is still a policeman. Questions are what I am made of. Besides I am naturally curious and I wanted to see the rest of this path and your house if you want to know the truth."
"That was a given," Erik sniffs. "I am surprised you did not ask sooner…or try to find the lake entry on your own."
"I might have but I was afraid you might have other traps and I have never been much of a swimmer…I also have news for you which is why I agreed to run this errand."
Stopping abruptly, causing Nadir to stumble, Erik turns and says, "News? What sort of news?" The idea of Nadir offering to pick up Isis was odd, but considering his flirtation with Adele, somewhat understandable. Wanting to see his house…again, understandable, but why now? This news must be significant and that was concerning. A chill runs up his spine having nothing to do with the air in the chamber.
"I thought I would wait until I could speak to both you and Christine," Nadir says.
"Why Christine?"
"Because it concerns her as well." The words are blunt. "She must be included in the discussion."
"No. Tell me now."
"You cannot keep things from her. She is a grown woman and soon to be your wife. Is this how you plan to run your marriage?"
Erik's eyes narrow meeting Nadir's stare. No sense arguing once his green eyes hold that look.
"You must bring me as close to death as possible…you bragged you could do that."
"I may make a mistake. I have not used the garrote in many years."
"I do not believe you will fail," the daroga said. "If they think I have tricked them, then I will definitely die. I am willing to take the risk. You must leave this place or else you will die." His voice was soft…gentle even.
Kind. The only person in the whole of this land was always kind to him, even as his jailer. One might have thought they were friends. Perhaps they were. Never having made any in his life, he had no way to tell. This man was essentially putting his life on the line for him. What is the name for such an act?
"Very well." Turning away from the daroga, Erik continues the trek to the house. The vicomte's death is obviously still an issue. There is no other reason Christine must be involved in the news. In his death, he has become a ghost of sorts – always to be present haunting them. More significant and present in death than he ever might have been in life. His only sense of relief in the matter is he did not kill the foolish young man. Nadir's manner suggests he knows his responsibility in the matter. What trouble has the dead man wrought for all of them now?
"Would you care for some tea?" Christine asks once the two men are fully in the house and settled. Nadir on the sofa. Erik in his wing-backed chair.
Erik frowns, giving a short shake of his head.
"This is our home and I will not be rude to our first guest," she asserts. "Pardon his temper, M. Khan. The tea is already prepared. If we do not drink it, then I will have to throw it away and that would be a waste of a fine blend."
"You could have saved the effort by just bringing him the sugar bowl."
"Now, now, my friend, no need to be testy," Nadir manages a chuckle. Turning to Christine, he says, "Thank you, that would be very nice…and, yes, please bring the sugar bowl. I fear I am somewhat addicted to the little cubes."
"Erik?"
"Fine, since we are being sociable," he says, drumming his fingers on the arm of the leather chair.
As she leaves the room to get the tea tray, Erik glares at Nadir. "Please do not prolong my agony any longer than necessary being chatty."
"When have I ever been chatty?"
"Always. I suspect you like the sound of your own voice making profound announcements about one thing or another."
"As if you hate holding the floor."
"Have you two always argued so?" Christine asks, when she returns to the sitting room, placing the tea tray on the coffee table. After pouring each of them a cup of tea, she carries two cups over to Erik. Handing him one cup, she keeps one for herself and sits down on the ottoman in front of him.
"Just conversing, mademoiselle," Nadir replies. "I do wish you would call me Nadir. M. Khan seems so formal…it makes me feel ancient."
"You are ancient."
"And you are a breath of springtime, I suppose."
Christine laughs. "Right now you both sound like little boys."
Erik releases a low growl.
Christine turns around to look at him. "What is bothering you? M. K…Nadir has come for Isis…or that is what I suppose…" turning back to face the Persian…"is that not so."
"That and…"
"He has some news," Erik answers for him.
"News?" Christine's eyes widen. "What sort of news?"
"Bad, I am certain," Erik says. "He would not tell me without you hearing as well."
"Well, let him tell us now." Christine cocks her head at Nadir. "What is it?"
"I stopped by the Mairie this morning as is my wont – often they have an assignment for me or a referral."
"What does that have to do with us?" Christine asks.
"I thought I would check on your banns."
"Why?" Erik asks. A rush of adrenalin upsets his stomach. Posting banns was a bad idea…he knew they should have just gotten married in church…to hell with the laws of France. "Bad enough we have to post them. I cannot imagine anyone would be interested. We are both unknown here."
"Has someone raised an objection?" Christine asks, a frown furrowing her brow.
Nadir nods.
"Who?"
"Phillippe de Chagny – the vicomte's brother."
"Why? I have not seen him since I was a girl…and only then briefly," Christine says. "Raoul did everything he could to escape his family when I knew him. He said his brother was very strict and would not want him being friendly with a vagabond and his daughter."
"Apparently he has never been satisfied about Raoul's death…has asked the magistrate a number of times to investigate," Nadir says. "That was the assignment I was given today. To investigate the two of you. Phillippe says that Raoul told him he was seeing you and had engaged you to marry him. Now it turns out you are betrothed to another so soon after his brother died."
"He thinks I killed him?" Erik snorts.
"Something like that."
"Well he is not the fool his brother was, I will give him that much."
"What are you going to do?" Christine asks.
"I could tell him what actually happened, I suppose."
"At this late date – ridiculous," Erik says.
"I agree."
Christine jumps up from the ottoman. "I shall speak with him – tell him there was no promise between us. This is all my fault."
"No!" Both Erik and Nadir exclaim.
"Then what?"
"I will conduct an investigation as requested."