Bury Me Standing Ch 1: An Evening's Amusement
I know, I know. Twice a week? Pfft!
Anyway, here it is
Chapter #1
An Evening’s Amusement
Winter 1887
"Christine, let me introduce you to my new brother-in-law, Gilles Robillard."
I curtsied as Raoul introduced me to his sister's new husband. By now, such formalities of a Comtess had become second nature to me and I had done it without a thought.
"Charmed, monsieur," I said. Normally I would swoon with novelties of enchantment at how lucky my sister-in-law was to have such a husband, but I had not had enough wine to make forced flattery easy for me... yet.
"No, Comtess, it is I who is charmed."
To my surprise, my newest relation took my hand and kissed it. No one touched me- no one kissed the hand of the infamous Christine Daaé. The people in Raoul’s world never forgot where I came from and they never let me forget how they felt about it. From the moment my marriage had become final, I became societies’ black lamb. Any shows of respect were rare; one such of this magnitude left me breathless.
Raoul looked nearly as shocked as I. His association with me had not ruined him, but he had felt the effects. This celebration was meant as an engagement party for Céleste Robillard née de Chagny. Her wedding had taken place last June with the crème of Paris turning out to celebrate the new couple. The bride’s only living brother and his wife were not invited.
My husband cleared his throat and Gilles dropped my hand. "Gilles, why don't you tell my wife about the wedding? I heard it was a grand night."
"Ah, yes. So sorry you could not make it, old boy. I hope your health has improved since then, Comtess?"
An eyebrow was raised at me and I nodded my head in response. I did not know whether to be grateful or outraged. At least Céleste had saved us the embarrassment of outright dismissal; at least she made an excuse as to why we were not present. Still, it was yet another reminder that no matter how long Raoul and I were married- and it was five years this December- I would never be good enough. Prior to Philippe's death and my memorable experience at the opera, the Chagny family had been very close and my arrival had driven a stake between them all.
Sometimes I wonder if I would not have hurt so many if I had stayed below the Opéra...
I turned my attention back to the present and realized I had been asked a question. If I could come up with something that was both general and dismissive, I might be able to escape to the terrace. It was far too cold now for anyone to venture outside and I was desperate to escape the night’s general splendor.
I took a breath and ventured, "I'm afraid I do not go to Paris much anymore, monsieur. I do not care for the city."
Success. No one caught my bluff, except maybe Raoul.
Not long after our marriage, we began to realize that if we were to find any happiness together, we could not stay in Paris. Our refuge had become Avignon. Making a life in a place stripped of its chimeral power after the fall of the French Bishops seemed appropriate. We lived a few miles outside of the city in a lovely country estate near the Rhône River. On clear days I could see the Holy Palace of Popes and it pleased me to hear the bells in the tower. Raoul enjoyed the fishing and hunting while I spent my days buried in a book or expanding my riding skills. I was getting quite good. Our new home saved us the embarrassment of exclusion we had felt in Paris, but it could still be horribly lonely.
"Ah, well it is not for everyone,” Gilles continued. “I myself find it rather stuffy. Every time I return, the streets are littered with more starving urchins. I blame this all on that blasted Universal Exposition they’re planning for ’89. France should never have to prove its excellence again with hackneyed entertainment for tourists. Céleste and I intend to get as far away from it as possible. We’ll be staying in the Brest estate for a time. Is that fine with you, Raoul?"
I tried to keep my face impassive. Raoul had a gentleman's gift for hiding all his emotions, but he was having a difficult time now. Raoul’s beloved old aunt, Chantelle de Moerogis de La Martyniere, had outlived her sister (Raoul’s mother), her husband, and all her children until she had no one left but distant relations. Because of his resemblance to one of her own sons, Chantelle had been very fond of Raoul. She became a surrogate mother to him and he spent many seasons with her by the sea. If it had not been for continuous visits to Brittany, Raoul and I would have never met when my scarf was lost to the waves near Perros. When she died, all her processions, and the home, went to Raoul.
We had intended to stay there ourselves for the season. The change of scenery would be a great place for us to reconnect after a monotonous, but pleasant life here in Avignon.
No one lived there permanently now. By right of possession from the old lady’s will, Raoul’s sisters were obligated to ask permission to use it. Going behind his back like this was not only a challenge to Raoul’s authority, it was an insult.
"Yes, perfectly fine... Christine, why don't you visit the ladies? I hear the Marquise has a new bracelet to show off."
Normally, I would have been upset at being dismissed like this. But if his sisters could not respect his position as head of the family, I would for the moment. With another polite curtsy, I left them and made my way towards the terrace.
As I expected, cold air kept most of the guests inside. I knew I should be inside mingling and playing the part of the hostess. I had been a fantastic actress in my day, but the thought of more boring tales on fashion and the latest scandal turned my stomach. I owed it Raoul to sit through the Marquise’s rambles on African gold quality, but I had not the strength yet.
This engagement party was meant as a sign of goodwill. Raoul, my dear, sweet husband, wanted desperately to mend things with his family. I agreed to open our home to the people that had shunned me as a new bride as a last attempt to salvage our respectability. But my lifeline may have come too late and I found myself a leper in my own home.
Life could always be worse, I mused. The family estate might have been transferred to a distant relative and we could be living on the streets. But life could be better too, at least it could for Raoul if not for me.
The grandeur of the estate, our home, and our guests was lost to me as I looked up towards the sky. The stars were far more welcomed companions than the Marquise and her sniveling friends. I found a deserted bench on the terrace and lost myself to a world beyond my reach, glowing faintly with the light of a thousand diamonds.
"Little Lotte, let her mind wander..." I smiled at the sound of my husband's voice and my depressing thought drifted away. "Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes?"
He sat next to me on the bench and I lay my head on his shoulder.
"Those picnics in the attic," I said, playing along.
"Or of chocolates?" I felt something solid on my leg and I looked down. Raoul had placed a piece of our chef’s excellent chocolate cake on my lap and my mouth watered at the sight. "You're brooding tonight, Christine. One might think you're unhappy."
I turned to face him and my heart gave that familiar lurch at the sight. Our short years together as husband and wife had aged him, but he gained the confidence of a man in his prime. Those soft, blue eyes still held the familiar boyish glint, but he was more relaxed, and for the most part, content with himself and his life. I wondered how I had changed since our reunion years ago. I certainly no longer felt the ingénue I had once been.
"I'm not unhappy," I assured him. And I wasn't. I was perfectly satisfied. I had a home, comfort, and a loyal husband that adored me. Many women would gladly kill for a fraction of what I had. So why did I feel something was missing?
"No, but you are not happy either. Is it something I have done, Christine? Is it..." he lowered his voice, "... because of the baby?"
I turned away and let my disappointment wash over me. Five years we had hoped and prayed for a baby to bless us. But every month brought no new joy and I was beginning to wonder if I had found another way to let Raoul down.
"Not now. Not tonight. I'm sad for you, Raoul. You should have been invited to your sister's wedding."
We heard through the gossip vine that a friend of the family had given Céleste away.
"Yes... no... maybe. You would have been miserable if we went, Christine and I would not want that either."
Still, it felt so callous, so cruel to do to one’s flesh and blood. I only had my father most of my life, but I knew in family after love came loyalty. For his sister to break that because of her brother's private choices was the most horrible thing she could do to him…
...and then it hit me…
The hostile stares, the silence, the looks of absolute hatred from Céleste I caught when she thought I was not looking….
He had been invited- I had not. And my loyal husband had chosen to stay by my side than abandon me as a society-climbing whore.
I felt his arms come around my shoulder and I welcomed the embrace. He kissed my brow then rested his chin on the top of my head. I found little comfort in either.
"It's your family, Raoul. It seems I'm dragging you farther from them everyday."
He pulled back and held me at a distance.
"You are my family, Christine," he said it in a tone that dared anyone to defy him. "No matter what, you are what I hold dearest in the world."
And there was nothing to do but let him kiss me and ignore the treacherous voice in my heart that whispered I did not feel as strongly as he did.
Please review!
Anyway, here it is
Chapter #1
An Evening’s Amusement
Winter 1887
"Christine, let me introduce you to my new brother-in-law, Gilles Robillard."
I curtsied as Raoul introduced me to his sister's new husband. By now, such formalities of a Comtess had become second nature to me and I had done it without a thought.
"Charmed, monsieur," I said. Normally I would swoon with novelties of enchantment at how lucky my sister-in-law was to have such a husband, but I had not had enough wine to make forced flattery easy for me... yet.
"No, Comtess, it is I who is charmed."
To my surprise, my newest relation took my hand and kissed it. No one touched me- no one kissed the hand of the infamous Christine Daaé. The people in Raoul’s world never forgot where I came from and they never let me forget how they felt about it. From the moment my marriage had become final, I became societies’ black lamb. Any shows of respect were rare; one such of this magnitude left me breathless.
Raoul looked nearly as shocked as I. His association with me had not ruined him, but he had felt the effects. This celebration was meant as an engagement party for Céleste Robillard née de Chagny. Her wedding had taken place last June with the crème of Paris turning out to celebrate the new couple. The bride’s only living brother and his wife were not invited.
My husband cleared his throat and Gilles dropped my hand. "Gilles, why don't you tell my wife about the wedding? I heard it was a grand night."
"Ah, yes. So sorry you could not make it, old boy. I hope your health has improved since then, Comtess?"
An eyebrow was raised at me and I nodded my head in response. I did not know whether to be grateful or outraged. At least Céleste had saved us the embarrassment of outright dismissal; at least she made an excuse as to why we were not present. Still, it was yet another reminder that no matter how long Raoul and I were married- and it was five years this December- I would never be good enough. Prior to Philippe's death and my memorable experience at the opera, the Chagny family had been very close and my arrival had driven a stake between them all.
Sometimes I wonder if I would not have hurt so many if I had stayed below the Opéra...
I turned my attention back to the present and realized I had been asked a question. If I could come up with something that was both general and dismissive, I might be able to escape to the terrace. It was far too cold now for anyone to venture outside and I was desperate to escape the night’s general splendor.
I took a breath and ventured, "I'm afraid I do not go to Paris much anymore, monsieur. I do not care for the city."
Success. No one caught my bluff, except maybe Raoul.
Not long after our marriage, we began to realize that if we were to find any happiness together, we could not stay in Paris. Our refuge had become Avignon. Making a life in a place stripped of its chimeral power after the fall of the French Bishops seemed appropriate. We lived a few miles outside of the city in a lovely country estate near the Rhône River. On clear days I could see the Holy Palace of Popes and it pleased me to hear the bells in the tower. Raoul enjoyed the fishing and hunting while I spent my days buried in a book or expanding my riding skills. I was getting quite good. Our new home saved us the embarrassment of exclusion we had felt in Paris, but it could still be horribly lonely.
"Ah, well it is not for everyone,” Gilles continued. “I myself find it rather stuffy. Every time I return, the streets are littered with more starving urchins. I blame this all on that blasted Universal Exposition they’re planning for ’89. France should never have to prove its excellence again with hackneyed entertainment for tourists. Céleste and I intend to get as far away from it as possible. We’ll be staying in the Brest estate for a time. Is that fine with you, Raoul?"
I tried to keep my face impassive. Raoul had a gentleman's gift for hiding all his emotions, but he was having a difficult time now. Raoul’s beloved old aunt, Chantelle de Moerogis de La Martyniere, had outlived her sister (Raoul’s mother), her husband, and all her children until she had no one left but distant relations. Because of his resemblance to one of her own sons, Chantelle had been very fond of Raoul. She became a surrogate mother to him and he spent many seasons with her by the sea. If it had not been for continuous visits to Brittany, Raoul and I would have never met when my scarf was lost to the waves near Perros. When she died, all her processions, and the home, went to Raoul.
We had intended to stay there ourselves for the season. The change of scenery would be a great place for us to reconnect after a monotonous, but pleasant life here in Avignon.
No one lived there permanently now. By right of possession from the old lady’s will, Raoul’s sisters were obligated to ask permission to use it. Going behind his back like this was not only a challenge to Raoul’s authority, it was an insult.
"Yes, perfectly fine... Christine, why don't you visit the ladies? I hear the Marquise has a new bracelet to show off."
Normally, I would have been upset at being dismissed like this. But if his sisters could not respect his position as head of the family, I would for the moment. With another polite curtsy, I left them and made my way towards the terrace.
As I expected, cold air kept most of the guests inside. I knew I should be inside mingling and playing the part of the hostess. I had been a fantastic actress in my day, but the thought of more boring tales on fashion and the latest scandal turned my stomach. I owed it Raoul to sit through the Marquise’s rambles on African gold quality, but I had not the strength yet.
This engagement party was meant as a sign of goodwill. Raoul, my dear, sweet husband, wanted desperately to mend things with his family. I agreed to open our home to the people that had shunned me as a new bride as a last attempt to salvage our respectability. But my lifeline may have come too late and I found myself a leper in my own home.
Life could always be worse, I mused. The family estate might have been transferred to a distant relative and we could be living on the streets. But life could be better too, at least it could for Raoul if not for me.
The grandeur of the estate, our home, and our guests was lost to me as I looked up towards the sky. The stars were far more welcomed companions than the Marquise and her sniveling friends. I found a deserted bench on the terrace and lost myself to a world beyond my reach, glowing faintly with the light of a thousand diamonds.
"Little Lotte, let her mind wander..." I smiled at the sound of my husband's voice and my depressing thought drifted away. "Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes?"
He sat next to me on the bench and I lay my head on his shoulder.
"Those picnics in the attic," I said, playing along.
"Or of chocolates?" I felt something solid on my leg and I looked down. Raoul had placed a piece of our chef’s excellent chocolate cake on my lap and my mouth watered at the sight. "You're brooding tonight, Christine. One might think you're unhappy."
I turned to face him and my heart gave that familiar lurch at the sight. Our short years together as husband and wife had aged him, but he gained the confidence of a man in his prime. Those soft, blue eyes still held the familiar boyish glint, but he was more relaxed, and for the most part, content with himself and his life. I wondered how I had changed since our reunion years ago. I certainly no longer felt the ingénue I had once been.
"I'm not unhappy," I assured him. And I wasn't. I was perfectly satisfied. I had a home, comfort, and a loyal husband that adored me. Many women would gladly kill for a fraction of what I had. So why did I feel something was missing?
"No, but you are not happy either. Is it something I have done, Christine? Is it..." he lowered his voice, "... because of the baby?"
I turned away and let my disappointment wash over me. Five years we had hoped and prayed for a baby to bless us. But every month brought no new joy and I was beginning to wonder if I had found another way to let Raoul down.
"Not now. Not tonight. I'm sad for you, Raoul. You should have been invited to your sister's wedding."
We heard through the gossip vine that a friend of the family had given Céleste away.
"Yes... no... maybe. You would have been miserable if we went, Christine and I would not want that either."
Still, it felt so callous, so cruel to do to one’s flesh and blood. I only had my father most of my life, but I knew in family after love came loyalty. For his sister to break that because of her brother's private choices was the most horrible thing she could do to him…
...and then it hit me…
The hostile stares, the silence, the looks of absolute hatred from Céleste I caught when she thought I was not looking….
He had been invited- I had not. And my loyal husband had chosen to stay by my side than abandon me as a society-climbing whore.
I felt his arms come around my shoulder and I welcomed the embrace. He kissed my brow then rested his chin on the top of my head. I found little comfort in either.
"It's your family, Raoul. It seems I'm dragging you farther from them everyday."
He pulled back and held me at a distance.
"You are my family, Christine," he said it in a tone that dared anyone to defy him. "No matter what, you are what I hold dearest in the world."
And there was nothing to do but let him kiss me and ignore the treacherous voice in my heart that whispered I did not feel as strongly as he did.
Please review!