Chapter Nineteen

A warm sun beat down on the riding ring, a welcome relief to the chill of this year’s spring. Raoul gathered the reins in his grip and nudged the horse into a trot, then a canter. The tight figure eight formation he made helped to focus not only the stallion’s attention but his as well. And Raoul needed it. There was something to Legard’s suggestion for a ride this morning that didn’t sit well. Usually, it was Raoul who challenged Legard to a day on the trails so for his friend to be so willing to head out was unusual. Raoul signaled for the horse to change leads at the center of the eight and looked toward the mounting block at the opposite end of the ring. Legard was swinging his leg over his chestnut. The stallion beneath Raoul tensed, anticipating the next command as they crossed the formation again. He didn’t bother leaning to the left to issue the order. He broke off the exercise and urged the horse into a trot to follow Legard out of the stable yard. Raoul scowled. Legard didn’t even warm his horse. It only added to the sense Raoul had that something wasn’t right.

Once on the carriage road leading away from Chagny and toward the miles of groomed trails and hurtles, Raoul turned to his friend. “Out with it.”

The pinch to the corner of Legard’s eyes told Raoul he’d best brace himself for what was to come. Legard fished in his pocket and withdrew a note. Holding it between two fingers, he extended it to Raoul.

“It seems Loup has found and subdued the Phantom. That drunk may be unorthodox, but I admit he’s a better hunter than I ever could have been. They’re transporting Erik to Chaumont.”

Raoul’s breath whistled out his teeth. He shoved the note into his jacket without reading it. He trusted Legard’s word with his life. Frankly, if Legard were wise, he’d grab Raoul’s reins and keep him from riding at a breakneck pace through the wilder grounds of Chagny and on to Chaumont. Legard read his mind.

“I’ll not have you traveling alone to meet the Phantom or that addict. With Erik captured, there’s no need for me to guard Chagny. I can see that one of your sisters reside on the premises to care for Christine.”

Raoul leaned forward and stroked the powerful arch of his stallion’s neck. “What now?”

“I suggest we contact the authorities in Paris. They’ll take the Phantom off your hands and wait for your orders from there.”

“I still want you here in service to Chagny even if this is all over,” Raoul said, comforted by Legard’s slight nod. He kicked his horse into a trot, and they rode for a while not saying much. Somehow a time like this demanded a moment of silence. So much energy had been spent imagining it. Raoul turned to his friend. “Will you see to it only the brightest in Paris are assigned to my brother’s case?”

Legard pulled sharply on his horse’s reins, so much so Raoul had to double back to ride at his side again. By the time Raoul reached him, Legard’s eyes were stone hard. “Raoul, dammit, you have been told countless times! Philippe’s death was accidental.”

Raoul wasn’t having this argument again. “My brother was murdered. The Phantom is under Chagny control now, and I’m not about to relinquish that. The one thing I won’t do is allow the Phantom out of my grasp without him knowing how much he stole from me.”

“Erik’s suffering will not lessen the blow of Philippe’s death.”

Raoul snapped his head away from the steamed look on Legard’s face. He stared down the perfectly manicured trails, remembering the countless times he and Philippe tried to best one another in horsemanship. The hedge up ahead still bore the scar from the time Raoul plowed through it instead of over it like his brother. Even with such memories so close to the surface, Raoul still couldn’t cry over the loss of his brother.

“Raoul, Philippe is gone. You have to—”

Raoul turned his horse abruptly back toward Chagny cutting Legard’s words of comfort off at the knees. “The pregnancy has my wife’s mobility compromised of late. I promised her a spring ride in the gig. Have my man contact my banker. Chagny just made one farmer very wealthy.”

Before Legard could protest, Raoul let the stallion take over the bit and shot down the trail, leaving Legard far behind. Raoul and his horse careened over fences and ditches at a pace that both thrilled and shot fear into him—like years ago with his brother by his side. Back then Raoul didn’t think that such reckless riding could end badly and he didn’t think that now for nothing raced quite as fast as his careless thoughts.

The notorious Chagny fog had burned away, finally providing Christine with a magnificent view of their property. The gig moved along at a lively pace, past ancient oaks and patches of newly born flowers.

“Are you feeling well, Christine? This isn’t too much for you? The ground hasn’t firmed up yet. The horses feel unsteady.”

“Stay at a slow pace and baby and I will be fine, Raoul. You fret too much.”

Nonetheless, Raoul pulled his horse up and slowed the gig. Christine bit back a sigh.

“Come, we walk from here,” he said, jumping down and settling the horse first before helping her down.

The spring grass smelled new, and the air was a refreshing change from the fires still burning in the hearths back at the chateau. Raoul led her down a grassy path to the shores of the Chagny pond; the thick blanket he retrieved from the floor of the gig tucked under his arm. Choosing a spot that had the best view across the water, Christine waited as Raoul tossed the blanket in the air in front of him and let the wind gently spread it to the ground. As he helped her sit, Christine caught sight of his smile. She couldn’t help but notice how this baby made her rounder than when she carried André.

“The high seas of Chagny,” Raoul proclaimed once she was settled, gesturing to the pond in front of them.

“It’s good to see the ice gone.” Christine took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Philippe used to bring me here all the time for every reason under the sun, be it a lesson or a lecture.”

Christine peeled off her gloves. She squinted in the light glinting off the pond as she straightened her hair. A light breeze prompted her to adjust her shawl as she gave Raoul a sideways glance. “And why is it the Comte de Chagny brings me here now? Lesson or lecture?”

“Neither.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.

Christine lifted a brow and waited for whatever news he was about to deliver. He was overly chivalrous, even for him, and that usually was a giveaway to some ulterior motive.

“I’ll be leaving Chagny for a while on business,” he said, lifting his lips from her palm.

And… there it was. She found a stone at her feet and tossed it into the pond. Newly emerged reeds bobbed and swayed on the ripples. “That’s hardly a reason to bring me out here. You’re frequently called off. How long will you be this time?”

“I can’t say. Legard will be coming with me so my sister, Paulette, will be here for you. Her husband will reside on Chagny in my stead. If you need anything, you are to tell them immediately.”

Christine plunked her hands in her lap. “Raoul, you worry too much.” She saw him flinch. Christine couldn’t blame him. She’d started passing blood since Loup’s attack, and though she kept that detail from him, she couldn’t avoid telling him of the disturbing bleeding. It frightened her enough as is and Raoul wanted the world for this baby. It still pained her to see the fear on his face. She patted his hand. “The doctor says I’m fine.”

“You’re under far too much stress. The doctor also said you should rest all you can, and here I am dragging out for a ride. I should be run through.” Christine giggled at the way his frown drooped one side of his mustache. “I blame Erik for this,” he rumbled, making Christine swallow her laughter. “If not for him, you wouldn’t have undue anxiety jeopardizing your health.”

“My health is not in jeopardy and Erik has nothing to do with this.” Even as she said that her back twitched reminding her of her worries. If she told Raoul about Loup’s assault, then Loup would reveal to him her sins with Erik. That would mar her husband’s name, her son’s title. Christine took another cleansing breath trying to ignore how the nerves made it shudder. She’d just have to deal with the stress. She reached for Raoul’s hands and laid them on her belly doing her best to look unfazed. “You should hear the heartbeat, Raoul. The doctor said this baby sounds like it is swimming upstream faster than André ever did. The baby will be fine. Fine and perfect.”

“I can’t help myself. I want my daughter to be safe.”

Christine shook her head. He was impossible. “There you go again. It could be another boy.”

“A healthy and happy baby is all that matters,” Raoul said, taking her hands.

He wasn’t very playful, she noted. Usually, their arguments over a boy or girl pulled him out of any mood. Christine tried to read his expression when he spoke again.

“Christine, Erik is in custody in Chaumont. I leave tomorrow to bring this manhunt to a close.”

Christine blinked, then stared across the pond. The “high seas of Chagny” were calm but the storm that shot up and churned in her belly was tempestuous. Folding her arms across her abdomen, she forced down nausea that dizzied her. Her back tightened and her lungs constricted as a rock of uncertainty sat on her chest.

“Custody.” The word sounded like swear instead of a blessing. “Raoul, what will happen to him? Where will they bring him? Will they bring him to Chagny?”

God in Heaven what would she do if that happened?

“No. I will arrange for him to go directly to Paris.”

“Oh mercy.” Christine struggled against her shape to get to her feet. She searched the comfort of her grand estate, her mind flipping through pages upon pages of her life. To think that one chapter may end and be closed forever… “He will go to prison,” she stated numbly.

Raoul rose as she did, his hands out at the ready to steady her. “Definitely. His execution—”

“His what?” The look she gave him could have cut his tongue right out of his mouth. Christine’s cheeks chilled as Raoul laid a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll be safe through this, Christine. He’ll not come near you, André, or our baby. I promise you that. This ends a huge part of our life—of your life. But rest assured our lives will continue—blessed and better without his memory.”

“What of that woman?” Christine blurted, her tongue moving faster than her thoughts. She watched Raoul’s brows rise as if the idea of Anna never occurred to him.

“I don’t know if Mademoiselle Barret was with him or not. Erik matters more to me.”

Christine rolled her lips into her mouth at that comment. Erik mattered to no one more than he mattered to her. Her husband and Anna should be wise to that. Raoul slid his arm around her shoulder. No doubt he felt her shaking. Anna bore no fault in the abduction that started this manhunt—or Erik for that matter. They both fought to protect Christine from a ruthless man out for her husband’s fortune. But how could she reveal the truth now?

“Christine, stop trembling. Is it Anna that frightens you?” Raoul asked. She nodded meekly, adding another lie to the pile of ones at her feet. She didn’t shake with fear. It was her anxieties over all these secrets that were rattling her bones.

“I was afraid of that,” Raoul acknowledged. “Her crimes go far beyond that opera house. She’ll not come near you either.”

Christine sucked in her breath and looked up at him in shock. “What do you mean?”

“Forgive me, Christine. You’re stronger than I allow myself to believe, and I should never have kept this secret from you. I only did so to protect you.” Raoul paused a little too long for Christine’s liking. “Anna Barret killed a nobleman’s child.”

Christine’s finger sank possessively against her baby as her blood went cold. “She did what?”

“She murdered Duke de Molyneux’s heir.”

Before she could control it, André’s name tore past her lips. Christine stepped out of Raoul’s embrace as her eyes darted from the lake, to the gig, and back to his severe expression. Nothing could numb her disbelief.

“Loup has been looking for her for years,” Raoul confessed further.

“Keep that woman away from my son,” she commanded through an anger-clogged throat. “And don’t you dare keep the truth from me again!”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upset me?” Any remorse Christine had for not admitting her own secrets evaporated in the blink of an eye. “That woman hates our kind! Lock her away! And don’t you ever lie to me again!”

Raoul nodded as he gathered her into his embrace. His apologies fell into her hair as his shoulder moistened with her tears.

Let Anna rot in a prison. Let this manhunt take that murdering monster to the angriest prison for all Christine care. How could she lose Erik to a woman such as her? How could she lose her Angel of Music to anyone?

“Raoul?” As his acknowledgment murmured into the top of her head, Christine mustered all she could to form her tear-clogged question. “What if Erik was innocent of everything? Would he still be sent away?” She waited for his reply on tenterhooks.

“He has crimes for which he must pay. And even if he were a saint, the truth is he is aiding Mademoiselle Barret now. There’s firm evidence of her crimes and aiding her is enough to see him put away. You’ll never have to dwell on the ‘what ifs’ anymore, my love. This is over.”

The ‘what ifs’? Christine tried to swallow them down with her tears. What if she couldn’t live without the connection she had with a dangerous man she didn’t understand? What if she couldn’t rise beyond the truth: he was in love with a woman she’d never accept.

“Why aren’t they looking for us?”

Something had to cut the stillness. A deer, a rodent in the underbrush, anything! The silence around them unsettled Anna to the point of madness. Even the ripples of the water lapping around her as she moved seemed to not make any noise to her. On the shore, Pappy bobbed slowly around the campfire with Philippe swaddled the sling against his chest.

“Your teeth are chattering, Anna.” Pappy walked the baby over to the mare and yanked a spare blanket from his saddlebag. He held it open. “Come, out now.”

The pond rose to her chin as Anna sank lower into the water. Though frightfully cold, the buoyancy gave her respite from her aching muscles, and the chill numbed more than just her flesh. She wanted her mind to freeze shut. She’d relived nothing but Erik’s capture in the hours since.

“Anna, now!” Pappy shook the open blanket as forcefully as her lips shook. She raised an eyebrow. “For heaven’s sake woman, I’m an old man, lewd comes with the territory. I’ve stolen enough glimpses at you in all your bare glory to confirm that a particular part of my anatomy doesn’t work. Now out!”

The cool spring air instantly made her skin pebble as Anna rose from the water. Crossing her arms in front of her breasts, she slunk toward Pappy and the blanket. “Bathe only to smell like a horse again.”

“You’re a breath of fresh air compared to Maestro,” Pappy chuckled as he settled himself, and Philippe down in front of the fire.

Anna shrugged on a toasty dress, thankful for Pappy’s foresight to warm it. She returned to the comfort of her fur-lined cloak. The days may have been getting warmer, but the nights were still chilly. Her son cooed at her from the shelter of his cocoon when she relieved Pappy of his sling. He gave him a tiny pat with the tip of his finger.

“He has his father’s nose.”

“Pappy!”

The old man lifted his shoulders. “It’s a jest, Anna. I’m trying to lift your spirits. You’ve lost all sense of hope.”

Hope? Anna’s mouth fell open, making a puff of breath color the air. He wanted her to have hope? She’d built her life around hope like it was a cornerstone for everything else, but right now she was having a hard time hoping for anything.

“His father was just arrested, and the barn we were in burned to the ground!” When Pappy shot her a look as if to say there was no need to shout, Anna gave him the same back. “I’ve no way of knowing if Erik is alive and he has no way of knowing the same of us! I can’t even imagine what he must have been thinking. I’ve no idea why we’re not being pursued, and you expect me to find humor in all this?”

“Not humor, hope. Have a little faith in him.”

“Oh, I have faith, Pappy, trust me.” Pappy looked skeptical. Maybe it was her sarcastic tone. Anna wiped a trickle of water off of her forehead as she tried to calm down. “Erik is always balanced on the right side of danger. I have no doubt—total faith that an Erik you never want to meet is on the rise! If God is just, Philippe will have my sanity and his father’s heart.” Anna released her breath in a long sigh as she pondered the stars. “I look at Philippe, and you know what I see? I see Chagny. I envision an absolute castle surrounded by the endless grounds of peaceful greens. I see a husband and wife comfortable in their riches and stubborn in their neglect of the truth.”

“You sound jealous.”

Anna silently named at least three constellations before continuing. “I see all that because that’s what Erik would want. He’d want to shower Philippe with all the riches of France and lay the world at his feet.” Her hand absently touched the end of her braid. The hair silk she had tied it off with dripped water to the ground. “But instead of planning for that future for Erik, I need to decide how long I’ll wait by a campfire for him to make his way back to his son.”

Pappy tossed a handful of grass onto the fire. It sizzled and withered before their eyes. “And you doubt he will?”

“I doubt the limits to human endurance. A mind can handle only so much, even one like Erik’s. I wonder who will return: father or Phantom.”

The fresh and earthy scent of hay mingled with the charred aroma of overcooked meat. The aromas wove in and out of his consciousness as he lay there until the watery snort of a beast jolted Erik awake.

He groaned and stared up at the ceiling in a dim and mobile prison. Blinking as he tried to clear his throbbing head, Erik felt the caked blood tighten the skin by his eye. The rifle butt… it had slammed into his face, but when? As he lay there, the throbbing in his head moved down the sides of his neck to his arms and spread across his chest. Erik twitched, feeling his thin flesh around his wrist split open. A trickle of blood moved from the ropes that bound him to his thumb. It slid down his skin tickling him so profoundly it jerked him to a sitting position.

Wide-awake, Erik shot to his feet too fast. The hay was as ice under his feet, and in seconds he was on the floor again. The carriage rocked as he hit, prompting a protest from the hitched team of horses.

Raucous laughter filled the air. Erik lay still, straining to listen.

“Ah, it seems our nightingale is awake.”

Something solid contacted with the side of the carriage. A rock perhaps? He heard tankards clang together.

“A drinking song, nightingale! Sing for us. Something lively. I am partial to Alouette.”

Erik scrambled to his feet and rounded all his weight against the door. He shoved his mask against the barred window. “Where am I?”

Loup ripped into a wad of meat and spoke around it. “Neither here nor there. You are, however, going to Chaumont where a dear, old friend will meet you.” Loup turned to his men. “What a reunion that will be. My money is on the sniveling comte.”

Erik bucked against the door, desperate to rip Loup’s throat out with his bare hands. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”

Loup tossed his meal aside. He stood, brushed something from his trousers and tugged down on his vest. He grabbed a flaming branch from the fire. “She? Whoever do you mean? I thought you said you traveled alone?”

Erik followed the flaming branch and shook his head clear. A sickening dread rose from the pit of his stomach.

“You seem more coward to me than the cunning madman the comte painted you as,” Loup said, clicking his tongue. “Pity. I was up for a challenge.” He turned back to the campfire.

“Where. Is. She.” Erik’s chest heaved.

Loup’s spun around; his arm cut the air in front of him. The makeshift torch struck the metal of the carriage clanging as loudly as his voice. “She burned!”

Sparks flew into the sky as flame roared before Erik’s eyes. He staggered backward, dodging the embers that came at him.

Loup tossed the stick aside. He pounced upon the carriage like an alley cat and clung to the iron bars. He pressed his cheek close to the window in the door looking at Erik with a wild glaze to his eyes.

“Alouette, gentille Alouette. Alouette je te plumerai…”

Erik thrashed inside the carriage as soon as he started singing, screaming in a blind fit of rage. Loup dropped to the ground and rejoined the festivities. The entire camp was rowdy with the tune, making Erik writhe until he buckled to the floor, a battered heap.

The darkness as he closed his eyes gave no relief to the fire seared on his mind. The last cries of his family screamed behind the roar of flame. Where those flames stoked by Satan, or were they flared by his complete and utter failure? At least the fires of hell would erase his memories of the fire that killed Anna and his son.

No. Nothing would erase that. Nothing.

Lifelong madness was a bellows in the Devil’s hand and, in his mind’s eye; Erik willingly handed a coin to Charon and sailed freely into Hades. An unusual calm washed over him as he did. Crawling to the corner of his cage, Erik slumped against the wall, too numb to cry. Instead, a misplaced smile twitched across his lips. There was nothing left to do but follow where madness led.

Erik would travel to the underworld by any means he could and take with him all that tried to stop him.