The Gardens of Melancholia (Emilie)

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik had not spoken to anyone for weeks. He kept to himself in his lair. He had thought concentrating on music and composing would be a good remedy for his melancholia over the loss of Teressa, and yes, Emilie. While Emilie could never be his completely, their friendship was something that he had counted on. She was so warm and understanding and she always listened. Now...there was no one. He had tried over and over to compose, yet there was more torn paper than actual music written.

He ripped up another score that would never be played. It wasn't right...it wasn't perfect. He had become angry and short tempered in these last few weeks. It seemed he couldn't please anyone lately, least of all himself. He sank down in a chair and held his head up with his hands. He didn't know what to do anymore. He had tried making a herbal tea that normally raised his spirits a bit when he was melancholic. But nothing, this time. If he were a woman, he would have been weeping constantly. Instead, his melancholia ran to anger. He had broken several things on purpose while in a rage since coming home from his little trip to the village pub those weeks ago. He hadn't even cleaned up the glass. He had simply kicked it into a corner. His rages were verbal, too. No one could hear him scream and rant down here, so he yelled to his heart's content. Of course none of this made his heart content. Indeed the opposite.

Erik could think of nothing that would ease his inner pain, stop the melancholia. Not having made an appearance in the mansion for those several weeks, he had no idea what was going on in the outside world. Or at least the world of the mansion. He didn't care to know. Those people could live their bloody lives however they wanted. As long as they left him alone.

Erik knew it was probably cold outside and it was what time? He glanced at the long case clock. Two thirty - in the morning. Fine. No one would be about in the mansion. Perhaps a walk in the cold would clear his head. He put on his cape and hat and started the journey across the water. The water was almost mesmerizing. He could see his reflection in the water...was he in the boat on top of the water...or was he under it...drowned? He shook his head to clear it of cobwebs. He wasn't thinking correctly. The trip was silent except for the small sound the water made as he pushed it with the long oar. At the opposite shore, he removed the lantern after pulling the boat ashore.

Erik started the long journey over the hanging bridges. When he reached the apex, he looked down. It was a long way down. Was he falling down? Was he tumbling through the air to be dashed to the rocks below? He stopped looking over the side of the bridge. He had almost lost hold of the lantern. He made the rest of the trip to the heavy wooden doors and after opening one, blew out the lantern and left it for his return trip.....if there would be a return trip. He touched his forehead and rubbed his left eye. He must think clearly and stop the daydreams or nightmares or whatever they were.

Erik took the lift down to the main floor. Most of the gas lights were dimmed and it was almost dark in the halls. Good. The more darkness, the better. Erik walked with no sound and came to the door that led to the garden. He opened the door tentatively, then exited the mansion. He walked slowly down the path. The garden had been so beautiful in spring and summer. Now it was dead. Utterly dead. Like his heart.

Erik continued to walk through the garden. The moon was behind a cloud, the only light there was tonight. The wind was brisk and cold. He pulled his cape about him. He walked slowly down the garden path. There was the weeping willow tree that Teressa loved so much. The garden that had been so beautiful and full of roses, the ones that Emilie had worked so hard to cultivate, they were dead too. In the distance was the beautiful little gazebo. The wind stung at his face and a hot tear dropped from his face, quickly becoming cold, almost icy. "Must be starting to sleet..." he mumbled under his breath, not willing to acknowlege the tear as his own.

His posture was a bit bent over, partially from the cold, but also from how he felt inside. His hands were becoming icy and the wind stung the left side of his face. He took a bit of shelter by sitting down on a stone bench which was located in a niche formed by the architecture of the house. The distant graveyard was visible from here. He felt he belonged there. He was dead on the inside. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was so deep in despair that everything he looked at made him think of plotting his own demise.

[ladybarbossa]

Everything seemed to be rough for her these past weeks. Though she had grown closer to Edouard - or so she thought - that unmistakable pain within her would never go away! She felt so lost now without her Angel. Just as she was before coming here. Telling herself she will survive just as she has always done. But having him near once again was a reality check for her. Yet now... now... there was even more of a reality check.
Lenoir took a fancy towards someone else. Loved her, he said. And that cause the greatest little unknown at the center of her being.

She tried to sleep, this time in her own suite and not with Raoul tonight. With her charming men fast asleep no doubt warm in their beds on this cold night. Yet she could not sleep nor could she stay warm.
Slipping out of bed in hopes to sit by the fire to warm herself and read. Maybe that will pressure her eyes to close. Even then, that did not work either.
After perhaps an hour as the night wore on into the very early hours past midnight, she got up from the comfortable wingback chair near the fire and moved to the bay window to gaze outside at the cold, clear night. With so little thoughts meandering through her head, and desperately wanting to sleep. Perhaps going to the kitchen for a little warm milk may help. Not that it helped in the past, but it just might. As she was about to get up, she noticed outside a darkened figure below in the gardens. Narrowing her eyes slightly to distinguish the shape. Sure looked like Lenoir. Or perhaps it was Mr Y whom she was still unsure of. This still twisted her thoughts and feelings in every way possible. After gazing outside a moment while the figure moved then disappeared from her sight. She rose swiftly from the bay window to the waredrobe, obtaining a robe to throw around her and her mule slippers. With haste, she dashed softly from her suite and through the hallways in order to make it to her destination hopefully in time to discover that perhaps it was Lenoir. She desperately wanted him. This was too much for her to bear not having her Angel. She thought she wanted to move on from him and say that he should. But when that opportunity arose, it only caused the greatest pain in the world. For both of them it seemed.

Darting to the garden door and opened it only to feel as though a thousand sharp knives piercing her! But despite the shiver and wrapping the robe tightly around her, she moved out into the cold night air, out into the gardens seeking out this familiar figure.

After a moment of slow, soft hunting she spotted the darken figure on a bench in the sheltered nook of the Manor. Slowly she moved towards him, The cool wind playing with her long, wavy brunette hair. "Lenoir?" her voice so soft and so pained. So hoping it was him and not Mr Y.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik looked up when he heard his name. He had been so wrapped up in himself that he hadn't even seen the aproach of Christine Emilie. He stood up immediately. "Christine? What are you doing out here on such a bloody cold night?"

He really didn't want to see Christine. He didn't want to see anyone. He had no words for anyone. Christine had spurned him once again and here she was back for more. Well, there'wouldn't be more. She couldn't push him about like a rubber ball any more. He was shivering and he pulled his cape about him. He glanced at what she was wearing. "You had better get yourself the hell out of here before you freeze to death," he said, with nary a smile. He hadn't smiled in weeks, except when Adina come to the lair. Adina had taken pity on him and she came sometimes with food for him, as in his present state of melancholia, he forgot to eat most of the time.

"Why would you follow me out here? I have business out here and it's too cold for you..." He said the previous looking straight ahead, his features as cold as stone and his voice almost monotone. He didn't have business out here, he had merely thought to do something to stop his melancholia. And strange visions of his demise in different ways kept coming at him. He stood up again. "Get yourself inside, Christine, before your husband misses you."

Erik felt a compulsion to walk to the pretty little lake where Teressa's willow tree trailed its fronds in the water. The leaves had turned colour and many had fallen to the ground or were found floating in the water. He touched the tree.'s bark. Inside the tree, its sap contained an acid that could be used for the relieving of pain. Strange, how the sight of this tree which could relieve physical pain could bring inner pain with its reminders of Teressa...

Feeling strangely compelled, Erik toyed with some of the leaves at the edge of the lake by putting the toe of his boot in the water. Just another step...another step...

[ladybarbossa]

It was indeed Lenoir! She could hardly tell the difference between him and Mr Y, but there was a difference that she now understood. To see Lenoir out in the moonlit darkness of a cold late fall seemed to stir something within her that she could not put a nail to.
His words were by no means comforting any more. Each sentence seemed to frighten her, not like it did when she was a Chorus Girl at the Opera fearing for her life and freedom, but in a different sense that something was not right and she feared for him! He seemed so sinister, so filled with a sense of melancholy that she only froze in her spot not realizing that the cold night air was starting to get to her. Each exhale betrayed as puff of steam appeared from her lips and bellowed out all the while locking her gaze upon Lenoir.

"He is sleeping," she finally spoke even though she wanted to say more before but the words never escaped her lips. She wanted to say more as well in defiance towards Lenoir telling her what to do! He wasn't her Husband or Father, but she once regarded him and his rules as though he were the only thing that mattered and liken to that missing father figure. But no longer. No longer. That was years ago.

Shaking her head slightly and closed her eyes as she stood her ground, unsure whether to move closer or to leave. No, she could not leave. Step back, she couldn't do that either! Forcing herself to not even pay attention to the frigid chill of the night.

Closing her eyes a moment only to open then and see him at the water's edge. In the waters edge. A dreadful fear washed over her that burst her stomach into a blazing fire.
In a matter of a split second and a blur, she leapt to Lenoir's side, grabbing his arm and hand, "My Angel," her words were slurred as the cold of the night was getting to her in which she was forcing herself not to feel it. But she could feel something completely not right with Lenoir and it was killing her inside.
She stepped back, her legs nearly frozen, hoping to draw him away from the dark glassy waters of the pond. Her face frozen and pained as the puffs of steam bellowed constant from her frozen lips. Her eyes betraying her incredible worry for him.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik pulled back the toe of his boot from the water. He did not shake Emilie's hand off of his arm, but neither did he put his hand on hers to comfort her. Her cold fingers were meant to comfort him, to keep him from doing something she did not want him to do. But it was she who needed to take care of herself, she who had a family...

"Christine, you must take care of yourself. You have a husband and child." He said the previous with a bit of gentleness, then fell into his monotone again. "You must not waste your tears on me. " Then she called him her "Angel" which cut deeply at his heart. For so long now, as long as he had given her lessons, and since then, at the mansion, she had called him her "Angel" and he had cherished that. But now..."You will find another teacher, Emilie." Erik never called her Emilie, but now he did. She was unique and different from Christine Svenna, who appeared to be simply a child, a younger version of this woman. Svenna, unfortunately was lost to him too, for she was to marry Raoul Christophe. "What of this Mr Y? Is he not an adequate teacher?" Erik thought with chagrin that Y was the one who should really have Christine in any case. He was the father of her son and undoubtedly much more deserving of her than Edouard.

Erik's was panting now, the puffs of white moisture coming fast with the effort of speaking fast in this cold air. It was becoming colder and Erik could barely feel his fingers. He didn't want to go inside, but Emilie would simply stay here in her newly discovered stubbornness. "All right. Let's go inside..." He took the lead and walked quickly back to the garden entrance to the mansion. His cape flew out behind him with the cold wind and the surprising swiftness of his steps. He held the door open for Emilie.

[ladybarbossa]

The whole time she was frozen, not only unable to reply swiftly enough but because the cold night air was truly starting to get to her. The nightchemise and the robe was not enough to shield her from the frigid chill. Unbeknownst to her that she was trembling with a combination of cold and adrenaline. Words tried to form in her numbing head as the puffs of air bellowed from her mouth, looking so dazed as she shivered. Only listening to him.. some what.
Each sentence continued to dig into her soul and hurt. Another teacher?!? She no longer needed to be trained, she was perfect! Wasn't she? She no longer needed a teacher she needed her Angel! Oh, what was she thinking?!? She knew no longer her thoughts as the cold was affecting her. Knowing not where her loyalties lay and longer.

As like in a surreal trance state because the cold night air was indeed really affecting her now, she followed Lenoir back to the Manor, her frozen legs doing their best to keep up.
Waltzing through the door as the warmth of the inside Manor hit her like another thousand knives and she gasped audibly, her hands rubbing her arms as they turned red. Having nearly gotten frostbite in such a short amount of time. Closing her eyes as she shuttered to breathe in the warm air of the Manor, relishing in the warmth that it gave.

After a moment she turned around, her lengthy wavy hair all around her as she gazed at Lenoir a little more collected now and could think straight. "I don't need a Teacher. Yes I have a husband, I have a son." Pausing as she glanced down upon thought of Mr Y. "You are right. He is not you." Looking back up at Lenoir, into his eyes. Her lips chapped from the sudden cold to heat, quivered. She closed the distance quickly between them as her hands grabbed his arms. Gazing intense into his eyes. "I need you," she whispered in all the emotion in the world in her voice. Oh, what was she doing?!? The night extremes with her lack of rest since that night they returned aloft in alcohol, her life seemed to take such a bland turn. The excitement of the Manor had become a norm for her and she didn't want to go back to that life she had. Yes, she was a Vicomtesse. Yes, she had a son sired by Mr Y. But she knew what her heart and soul needed. She had the most difficult time letting him go. Especially since he had so delicately sought her attentions. All at once, she longed for him again after a couple of months of keeping her distance and trying so hard to make her marriage to work still. Mr Y's arrival only caused more chaos in her life that she was not so eager to deal with. Normalcy to her... there was no normalcy!

She panted softly as she gripped his arms, staring hard into this eyes. "Why?" Her face contorted with such a combination of emotions it was hard to distinguish between them. "Why are you giving up?" her voice soft and almost hoarse as her own eyes plead and begged for him to open up to her once more. Plead and begged for him to keep trying and never give up.
She sought him out once before, well it was with Mr Y. But this time, would be almost no different. She did so out of the kindness of her heart as this reflected in the glassy state of her eyes that wanted the answers from him. Was he truly in love with the tall golden hair beauty? He seemed to behave as when during that long ago time. Dear God, he was and utterly heartbroken. Tears welled in her eyes as she tilted her head. Caressing his arms. To see him in such a terrible state, once again heartbroken, just broke her own heart. "Oh, Lenoir." She whispered in pity for him. Pity because despite how much she was upset with him, she still loved him. No matter what.

[Erik Lenoir]

Just inside the manor entrance, Erik stopped, the warm air feeling good. He stood a moment rubbing his long, sensitive fingers which almost hurt from the cold. What was he to say to Emilie? He didn't want her to hurt herself so he would see her to her room and then go back outside to think. Why he thought he could think better in the cold had not occurred to Erik. It seemed his thoughts had run to hurting himself, perhaps fatally, and the cold only made him more paranoid.

Feeling warmer, he looked at Christine. Her dark, long wavy hair, he suddenly had an urge to carress her hair again, to touch it and feel it between his fingers, to smell its sweetness, to inhale her fragrance once more. Then she said she needed him, not Mr Y, and suddenly the coldness and nonfeeling façade that he had erected about his heart fell, along with several tears from his eyes.

Emilie carrressed his arms. He couldn't help but pull her to himself. Then on impulse, he picked her up, one arm supporting her back and the other under her knees and whisked her to a sitting room nearby and put her on the settee and pulled a lacy throw which was on the settee over her shoulders. He then quickly and wordlessly went to the white marble fireplace and built a fire. It warmed the room and provided light.

Then, his frantic activity ceasing, he stood between her on the settee and the fireplace and looked as if he were a little boy with a secret he didn't wish to tell. He looked anxious. "Christine, I know you are upset that I have fallen in love with Teressa, and you have chosen your de Chagny. Why do you deny me the chance to love someone else? You will always be forbidden to me unless you divorce de Chagny, which is courting scandal. Of course it would probably make no difference here at the mansion if you are worried about your noble status, which I expect no one will disparage you for here in the mansion."

He went on sadly. "Teressa, I fear, is lost to me anyway. She has another suitor whom she considers more fitting. She has been forced back to his arms by my foolish, injudicious act. I admit, I made a complete fool of myself at the pub and I am duly ashamed. It will not happen again. But I am not going to stay here any longer, if you understand my meaning. It will be best for all of us if I disappear. "

[ladybarbossa]

Unable to let him go while watching his face and eyes, seeing those tears from him made her cry in wonder that perhaps he was not totally lost.
In that moment as he drew her to him, a slight brief inhale then a soft sigh and closed her eyes. In the moment she felt herself go weightless in his arms she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head upon his shoulder, "Oh, Lenoir," she said softly just below his ear, almost a whisper, letting him carry her. As odd as it seemed, she missed it. It had been months since he last did this. She tried so hard to be a good Wife to Edouard but he still lacked the sort of attention that Lenoir gave her. And she craved it once again.

Closed eyes still as she was placed upon the plush cushions of the sofa settee. The attention he gave with the wrap around her shoulders, her face showing how she missed such attention from him. Scandalous that she would fancy another and at this point in time, she almost no longer cared.

Finally opening her eyes to see him and the fire he had started. What a delightful memory enveloped her mind, not from long ago, but from a few months back. She had grown so accustomed to his presence at the Manor so, naturally, when she had not seen him as much partly because she has done much of it to distance herself from him in an effort to focus upon Edouard and then her son, Gustave, she found that she ached for him now. It no longer worked. Even she couldn't be so upset with him for what he had done.
She sat there to listen to Lenoir, each word started to invoke some silent reaction from her. It was becoming clear to her how their choices were driving them forward. She had made the first choice. But then, those choices never did follow through so well. No. They did not have a choice at all. They were at the mercy of destiny and that dictated who they would be with or not.
She could not stay upset with him for long. It wasn't so much that she was angry with him, it was his choices that upset her and hurt her. Jealous? Was she jealous that some other had finally captured his interests? Yes! There was no denying that and she looked away to hide that hint that she was jealous and hurt he would even look at another. She was such a foolish child to think he would be hers and hers alone. He was right. They made their choices. But those choices... did not mean happiness. Was she eager and desiring to ensure he would not be happy either?! At that thought, her lips parted to release a gasp as she froze tears welling in her eyes. Oh, she had become such a selfish, wicked woman! So eager was she for him, needing him for her and her alone. She was just like him! Her tear filled eyes gazed distantly at the realization that she was making this far worse than it really should be. She wanted him happy. She wanted him to have what he so very well deserved. What an empty feeling in the pit of her belly that had created. Oh, she was so evil!
His words left her speechless.

Unable to really reply to him even though so much ran through her mind wanting to comfort him with her words, she slowly stood as he went on and on about Teressa lost to him. She loathed seeing him like this. Now she wanted to see him happy as that man she had become to know while here at the Manor. He was always there with some extension towards another. That was by no means selfish. He was ever present, ever kind. He fell into a drunken mishap for one night, granted it was with her Husband, but could she truly blame him and be angry with Lenoir for such an naive if not desperate way to be rid of his pain?!? Heartache. That truly was the worst feeling in the world!

She froze in her place as he mentioned not staying. There was only two ways - he either found a way to leave this place and go elsewhere ... or he was going to die!
The thought of him dying made her jerk and hunch over with her mouth open, holding her stomach as though she'd been stabbed or shot. Tears welled in her eyes then moved towards him in desperation. "Erik," her voice breaking for him as a tear ran down her face. Stopped and took a step back as she held her stomach and covered her mouth.
"I am so sorry," her words mixed heavily with her sobbing whimpers as she cried, gazing at him. What ever in the hell had she done?!? " Erik, forgive me! All I want is for you to be happy," the words still enveloped in her whimpering sobs while tears streamed down. Standing there a moment as she covered her mouth again feeling her knees go weak. She stumbled back to the settee and collapsed upon it crying, her arms draped over the back as her face buried in her arms.

[Erik Lenoir]

He slowly walked over to the settee and sat at the opposite end of it. He gazed at Emilie. If only she had not chosen de Chagny. They could have been so happy. But could he blame her? He had acted irrationally back then. Who would want to marry a man thought to be mad and one so incredibly ugly. He had hope that she would stay with him just before she and de Chagny had left the lair. But then all hell broke loose and he had shortly arrived at the mansion. He knew now, from experiences of speaking to others, that there was some of his life that he did not remember, having been spirited away so quickly after de Chagny and Christine left.

But all of that was in the past. Perhaps he could be happy with just those stolen moments with Christine as he had in the past. Of course that would put him at odds with Edouard again. And if they came in conflict, Erik could not be sure he would not let his anger get the better of him with Edouard. He knew Christine still had some feeling for the little bastard. And he was the titular father of Gustave. Erik wondered if Edouard had ever been told that he was not Gustave's parent. Or if he even suspected.

Erik looked at Emilie. She was weeping now. He didn't like to see her like this, but what could he do? His choices were limited. Even doing away with himself was really not a choice. Then he would be a ghost, forever tied to the mansion....no that would not do. He was thinking clearly now. At least Emilie wasn't completely angry with him. She almost seemed as angry with him for getting drunk as she was that he had fallen in love with Teressa. That didn't make sense. He didn't like to see jealousy in her, but then, he was exactly the same.

Finally, he could take it no longer. He came close to her and took her in his arms, kissing her hair and caressing her back. He knew tears were falling from his eyes, but he didn't care any more. Emilie was here with him, at least for the moment, and she didn't hate him.

[ladybarbossa]

Everything was lost to her in that awkward little isolation as she shed her tears feeling incredibly horrible for the jealousy, anger, and other varied happenstances over the months. Especially recently in the developments that led to a chance of different lives for them both. Well, for him at least. He could be rid of her obsessive memory forever and now, suddenly, she didn't want him to. Why? Of that she was exploring and began to dislike the reasons why - clinging to her past. She was afraid of what the future held. Afraid to be without those whom she needed, or believed she needed most. She was afraid. Simply... afraid.

Drawn from that little inner self-battering into Lenoir's arms, immediately she held him in a tight embrace. She had a hard time of letting him go. It was so difficult for her to let him have his own life. She was such a part of his life and the center of his attention for a time she could never seem to see it as any other way! But oh how that was changing so much here at the Manor. This place was toying and changing them in so many ways that it left a person altered forever.

That little girl in her was so afraid of letting him go. But she felt she had to. He learned to love another. She should be overjoyed at his new chance at love and life.
"I am so sorry," again she whispered while whimpering in sobs.
Not wanting to pull herself away from his embrace but she should if they were to heal and move on with their lives. This was utterly the most difficult thing for her to do - let him go.
Slowly pulling away from him as she sat straight somewhat, her arms holding his, trembling breathing softly through her open lips as tears streamed down her face. She wanted to stay in his arms, wanted to feel his lips to hers in a loving kiss, she wanted more but knew that it would do them both no good. Oh, how this was tearing at her! The two parts of her so at war with one another! To let him go and move on and be a better woman for it or to keep him near and see what happens.
Glancing down before looking back up at him while still holding his arms. "What would you wish me to do? How can I help? A soft sniffle as she tried to stay her tears and gazed into his eyes. Those eyes betraying the war within to keep him near or let him go.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik didn't want to stop holding her. He wanted their stolen moment to last forever. Of course it couldn't...but... when she broke away from him, he pulled her back and kissed her gently on the mouth, then again and again, with more passion. Now he began to see how it could have happened with Mr Y, but it would not happen again. He forced himself to pull away.

He turned his face away from hers and tried to calm his heavy breathing. He kept saying to himself, she has made her choice and it is de Chagny... He said it over and over just under his breath until he was calmer. He stood up and walked to the fireplace, his back still toward Emilie. "I am sorry; I should not put you in those compromising positions, my dear, no matter how I feel about you. You belong to de Chagny and there is nothing that either of us can do about that, unless you have thoughts of divorcing him. "

"Teressa...yes she is lost to me forever. And perhaps it is for the best. If she cannot weather a simple mistake like that, and she will not believe that I have not lied to her, what will happen when something else happens that she misinterprets? I fear there is no perfect woman, althought you come the closest. The only reason you are not the most perfect is that you are married to that....bloody bastard." He spit out the last two words wit a modicum of venom. His back was still turned to her and he hoped she hadn't heard him disparage her husband.

Then he turned to her, angry again. "Who the hell does he think he is, making a laughing-stock of me before the whole mansion? I am so angry at him, he is fortunate that he is not within this room, or I would surely do something to him that perhaps you would regret, but I fear I would not!"

[ladybarbossa]

Despite it her attempt to pry from that desperate need for one another that was most unhealthy as she kept telling herself now, he had a perfect way of bring her back into his arms. She fell into his hold once again, melting to his kisses and returning them with the same realization of how much she missed his forbidden affection.

That is until it was he who pulled away this time. Hovering there close to him, eyes mostly closed as she did her best to still her ever pounding heart and her hefty breaths just as she heard his. Passion so easily could be ignited but it was so difficult to douse. Moving her hand to rest upon his chest but before she could do that, he moved. Barely moving as she hovered there a moment as he stood, blinking then closed her eyes, letting her hands plant upon the settee where he sat, feeling the slight warmth from his momentary occupation of that spot just a second before. Inhaling deeply and slowly before she silently released it.
Half sitting there leaning upon her arms that kept her propped up, she listened to him then closed her eyes and slightly hung her head. She wanted to say she belonged to no one but he was right. She did marry Raoul. She was his Wife, the Vicomtesse de Chagny. Granted there were fleeting moments that she had pondered if she and Raoul would divorce. Heavens what a scandal that would be. But nothing as scandalous as her pre-marital affair with Erik. But then, that was with Mr Y, that singular night of unrestricted passion that resulted in a glorious miracle of a child. The thought of Mr Y still did not settle with her so well. Lenoir kept her mind and soul at ease. This was far too dangerous a line she constantly walked.
She released a hefty sigh but did not say a thing. Not yet.

Opening her eyes to look up at Lenoir, gazing upon his back while listening to his heartbroken disappointment about that tall beauty. Weather a simple mistake?!? It was the insane nature of women to be jealous over a man, likewise with girls. That primal drive within them that they would want to keep a man all to their lonesome if they did not shun him. If he was found to be 'unfaithful', then she would spurn him with all the wrath that could ever be conjured, just like the common statement: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And women saw scorn in various different ways.
Shaking her head at the fact that neither Lenoir or that other woman could come to terms with something so trivial as another woman. Oh, no. No, trivial was not the right word for that. Something so malevolent would be better put to that truth. A woman could so easily whisk the attention of a man away from his already established fancy. How? Oh, the temptations of Satan was so strong and no man on Earth was oblivious to it!
Perfect? Her? No. She was not perfect and yet he just confirmed that, but it was only because of the one whom she married. Chose? Did Lenoir once again forget?!? She only did as Lenoir wanted. True at that time, she somewhat wanted it, too. But in the end, she tried to make that choice a reality.

Before she could speak of her own reasoning, she nearly jumped in shock at the change. Sitting up while gazing at Lenoir with that stunned visage. Blinking at what Lenoir had stated but she could hardly blame him. Granted, what Edoaurd had done- shaking her head. No Edouard was not fully to blame. This was some situation that she simply could not take sides of. "Both of you made judgement calls and efforts that night in which both of you and yet neither of you are to blame," she finally said as she sat up like a proper woman of title should, gazing at Lenoir with those glassy eyes. Her hands in her lap as she contemplated it all and dropped her gaze from Lenoir.

She sighed and closed her eyes with barely a shake of her head. Both of them seemed to mess with her mind and emotions so much. She was so trying with Edouard but he seemed to remain so frigid towards her. And Mr Y... She only reunited with him and she... he...
She sighed again. Oh, how Mr Y seemed to stir so much in her. And only enhanced it, or made it worse, around Lenoir. Placing a hand upon her chest, over her heart in an effort to perhaps still it for it was racing again. She feared she would be one of those Women of Title who were enveloped in scandal. Realizing though that she was enveloped in scandal. How the press would have a field day with her story!
"Oh, Erik," mostly closing her eyes, head tilted down as she slightly, slowly shook her head. Almost sounding disappointed but she was confused of what to do next, how to proceed.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik turned from the fireplace, his eyes livid. "Now you are defending him! He took advantage of me and he knew it! It will not happen again! Oh no! I will break his little chicken neck in two the next time I see him! Erik picked up what looked like an expensive vase from the mantle and, in his rage, was about to fling it across the room to break in a million pieces, when he glanced at Emilie and took a deep breath. He held the vase in his hands, looked at it, caressed it almost as if apologising and replaced it on the mantle.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I'm not myself tonight. I hardly know what lurks in my mind these past weeks. Painful knives jab at my heart with every thought I have of Teressa and how I have driven her to Destler's arms and with every thought of you and your inaccesibility. I can scarcely bear it. " Then Erik sat down again on the settee. He sat near Emilie again and pulled her toward him, his arm behind her. He seemed pensive now. "That woman, Ana, a modern woman. I scarce can blame her although it was because of her that all this happened. The modern people are different if she is any example. I don't know if you met her, I heard that she was one of the ones watching me be put to bed that night...but she wears the most provocative clothing. Just looking at her...well I don't want to go further with that thought, lest I speak evil in your company." He paused. "Yet, I do not blame her for as I said, the modern people are strange and different. I did however, tell her in no uncertain words that if she visitted the mansion again, she was to wear something much more modest."

"Emilie, what am I to do? I was having visions of doing myself in tonight... I fear I am going mad..."

[ladybarbossa]

Defending him? Her Husband?!? Raoul was her Husband! But for the sake of being another living being, how could she talk ill against someone. Granted she sort of did with Carlotta but that was when that woman actually spoke ill against her stating she plotted the whole rouse of starring in Don Juan Triumphant and to get to the top taking Carlotta's Prima Donna spot! Oh, yes, she planned all of that! Evil woman she was indeed!
But she could not speak ill against her Husband, despite how often he was in a unfavorable state. How dare Lenoir state she would take sides! And yet, for that reason now only was she upset but she pities Erik.
Gasping slightly with a slight wide eyes as he looked to be on a rage. Never really liking that at all, she was such a passive sort.

She sat there with a slowly progressive saddening face. Offering that sympathy that granted he may yet may not want. She would give it to him anyways. She never knew how difficult it was for him recently. She had been so withdrawn into her own little world of a happy Wife that she ignored Lenoir. Oh, poor Lenoir!
She allowed him to draw her near, relishing in his touch. They at least deserved that much, yes? Gazing into his eyes as he continued to speak, listening to his every word for it meant something to her. She hardly understood who he was talking about for a moment and then she wondered if it was that brunette that rode that great black horse, the one she saw with Lenoir that one day, just moments before the fight between Lenoir and Teressa. Raising her brows as Lenoir mentioned the provocative clothing this Ana wore and perhaps what thoughts he might be having, she restrained a smile but her brows rose. Oh, how human Lenoir was truly becoming. And the fact that women were at ease around him, that rather bewildered her. Patting Lenoir's hand but remained silent after he mentioned that the woman should wear something more modest if she should return to the Manor. Well, depends upon one's modesty and the fashion.

Her face sunk as it paled, eyes glazed over as she slightly trembled. Almost unable to breathe while staring at Erik. The thought of him dead... well, thinking him dead again... that she could not handle! Let alone to actually see his lifeless body!
Forcing air as she started to pant, her stiff yet trembling hands grabbed his face in a flash. "Don't you dare!" she hissed softly, begging him as she stared into his eyes intensely. "Don't you dare think such thoughts Erik Lenoir!" She was so over come but the mere though that she could barely breath nor think nor cry. But she did tremble. "You know that I love you with all my heart," she whispered. But that was not enough. She knew it. True she was 'unavailable' because of her marriage to de Chagny, he was so virtuous and would not leave her with scandal but hadn't that already been done?!? She was a woman already hiding and participating in scandal it no longer made a difference.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik was stunned when Christine said she loved him with all her heart. She held his face in her hands and forbade him to do anything to hurt himself. Was she simply saying she loved him because she didn't wish him to off himself?

"Christine, I know we care for each other, but I had been under the impression that you loved your de Chagny much more than you cared for me. If this is true, why did you not tell me so earlier? I told you to leave when we were in the lair because I felt that you only agreed to stay with me because you wanted to save your de Chagny's life. I wouldn't kill him because I thought you loved him. I had no idea your love for me was...this deep. Would you leave him for me?"

Erik looked and felt hopeful for the first time in a very long time. "Perhaps that is too much to ask, considering that we are all living in the same place. And what of little Gustave, who belongs to neither your husband nor me?"