Phantom of the Regency
A/N: Well, this is the very last chapter. It was very hard for me to write the ending; it was so hard that we will not be saying goodbye to the Heatons. I was more than happy to keep writing - and that it what I'm doing. I'm currently in the process of writing a sequel with Erik and Christine's children. That will be posted towards the end of the year. I would also like to thank you all for your wonderful response to PotR. You have all made my favourite story extra special. Thank you!
The Best Father in England
Several days later, Christine sat with Erik in the nursery watching Ives playing on the rug. The bruise had faded to yellow, which thanks to Quintin was nearly unnoticeable under cosmetics.
Erik watched as his wife kissed Ives' hand and then placed her finger in her palm. Her little fingers enclosed her mother's. Christine smiled at her baby and placed another kiss on her cheek. Ives returned Christine's smile then tried to suck her mother's finger. Christine laughed and turned to Erik in delight.
"Did you see that?"
"It would seem that she has her Mama's smile." Erik smiled at his wife and placed a kiss on her cheek. He still could not believe the things his daughter was now doing. It was only three months ago she knew only how to cry.
At the sound of her Papa's voice, Ives tried to lift her head and find him. Erik moved into her view. He handed her a rattle and had it talk to her in that lilting voice which caused Christine to melt every time she heard it.
Christine frowned at her husband. "You will scare her; rattles do not speak."
Erik lifted a challenging brow at Christine's announcement. "She enjoys it. I thought I might teach her when she is older. It really is very entertaining watching people think they are fit for Bedlam." Christine continued to frown at Erik. "Perhaps we can both teach her to play the piano and sing?"
Christine's frown instantly dissolved into a smile at the thought of taking music lessons at Erik's side.
Ives whined for a moment when Christine pulled her hand out of her wet grip but calmed immediately when Erik began to sing softly. Everything was forgotten as Ives lay there as entranced as her mother. Erik smiled at his two ladies. They both stilled whenever they heard him sing.
A soft knock at the door interrupted the family's quiet time together. A little maid popped her head in and informed Christine of a disaster with the servants that Drake could not order.
Christine cringed at the thought of having to sort out the disturbance. She placed a kiss on her daughter's head and then another on her husband's lips.
"Go and see to the problem," Erik ordered her gently. "I'll see that Ives goes down for her nap without any fuss."
Christine closed the door to the nursery and paused; her husband's voice carried to the hallway. She was certain Ives would be fast asleep by the time she reached the ground floor!
A half hour later, Christine returned to the nursery having lost one of her chamber maids. She sighed as she considered the interviews she would be forced to conduct over the next few days. Interviewing prospective employees was the task Christine disliked the most as lady of the house.
She quietly opened the door and stood in the doorway in wonderment. Erik and Ives were both asleep on the rug. Her little girl was snuggled comfortably on her Papa's chest, her head resting over his heart.
She quietly closed the door and ran down the hallway to her study to collect her sketchbook and pencils. The sight was too beautiful not to draw. Perhaps if the portrait was of similar quality to Erik's she would have it framed and hung in their bedroom or the parlour.
Christine settled herself in the rocking chair and worked as quickly and carefully as she could. Erik was a light sleeper and she did not know when he would awake. She blocked the quiet bustle of the servants out and focused solely on her husband and child.
"Are you planning on showing me your sketch?"
Christine's head shot up with a squeak. Erik was watching her, his head now pillowed on his arm.
"How long have you been awake?" she asked nervously as she returned her attention back to her sketch.
"I heard you come in and stand in the doorway then close the door. I must have fallen asleep again." He grinned. "I have only been awake long enough to discover that you are drawing us."
Christine compared her drawing to Erik and Ives. It was not bad. Perhaps with a little help from Erik it would be suitable to have framed. She glanced again at her work; she would definitely have it framed.
"I could not help but draw you; you were both too beautiful to resist."
Erik shook his head. He would never get used to his wife telling him that he was handsome or beautiful.
"When you finish, perhaps you might like to put Miss Heaton in her cradle. As much as I adore having her use me as a bed, the ground is a little uncomfortable."
A few weeks later, Erik and Christine sat in the parlour admiring Christine's portrait which had been positioned over the fireplace. It had turned out far better than Christine could ever have hoped. Every time she looked at it, she could not help but smile at the absolute trust Ives had in her masked papa.
Erik shook his head and kissed her head. Deciding to risk being discovered, he lowered his lips to Christine's. With a contented sigh, Christine cupped his face with one hand while her free arm slipped inside his open coat and around his waist.
A maid pushed open the door with the tea tray and immediately regretted the action when she saw the couple embracing on the settee.
Erik growled against Christine's lips before raising his head. "What is it?"
"Umm, it is just the tea, your lordship," the maid said nervously as she began to arrange the tray in front of Christine. "Cook has made a plate of sandwiches." Everyone was aware of Lord Erik's fondness for cucumber sandwiches and was as quick as her ladyship to take advantage of the knowledge.
Christine hugged Erik before she began to pour the tea. She glanced up at the portrait again and smiled to herself. She smiled brilliantly and then placed a kiss on his jaw. "Poor Ives will not be pleased to have a younger brother."
Erik looked at his wife in surprise. Surely she could not…already? Ives was barely three months old.
She handed him his cup with a shake of her head. "No; not yet. But I do want a large family, Erik."
"I never expected to have a wife, let alone a whole brood," he confessed softly. "I too like the idea of a large family; six girls and one boy…Or maybe four girls and three boys."
She took a sip of her tea and looked at him over the rim of the cup. "Perhaps we could try for a son this time?"
Erik removed the teacup from Christine's hands and set it carefully down on the table. He rose and pulled her gently to her feet before scooping her into his arms to carry her upstairs. Christine kissed along his jaw as she tugged his cravat off and dropped it onto the floor. Her slippers negligently landed in the hallway with a soft thud.
Drake stood at the bottom of the staircase watching his master and mistress make their way up to their chambers. He smiled at the pair. He had best inform Cook that dinner would have to be put back an hour…or two.
EPILOGUE
Summer, 1823
Lord and Lady Erik stood by the refreshments table, both carefully taking in their surroundings. Finally, Christine was standing in the Assembly Room of Almack's. She finally had permission to waltz!
The couple had been in London for three days and intended to stay only until the end of the week. Ives was delighted to be staying with her Grandmamma – Erik, however, was not quite as thrilled. It would be the first time that Mrs Daaé would see Roderick, her newest grandson since his birth three months earlier. On the morrow, Christine and Erik would be showing Mrs Daaé the school and then taking tea at Gunter's.
Christine smiled up at her husband. She took his hand in hers, well aware of his discomfort. Knowing what he risked joining her at the club, Christine could not help but fall a little more in love with her husband. Everything he did, he did with her best interests in mind. After eight years of anticipation, Christine was reluctant – but honest enough – to confess that she was slightly disappointed with the celebrated Almack's.
When Erik looked as if he was about to dissolve into the shadows, the orchestra played the opening chords of a waltz. He seized the opportunity and quickly pulled Christine onto the floor for her first waltz. He pulled her closer than Society generally allowed and smiled softly into her eyes.
Christine had to admit that dancing with her husband held a great deal of appeal. Erik was a much better dancer than the dance master she had at seventeen. The scent of his cologne seemed to envelope her. She sighed when his fingers stroked her waist and shifted closer.
"Have I told you today how much I love you?" Christine asked in a husky whisper.
"Not since this morning." His grip tightened on her waist.
"I love you, Erik. I love that you came here with me."
Erik stopped leading Christine around the floor and looked down at her with a serious expression. "I love you, too. I cannot not tell you how pleased I am that you danced your first waltz with me."
Christine smiled at his words and raised a hand to the right side of his face. "I only want to waltz with you."
Erik lowered his head to Christine's and covered her lips with his own. He tugged her firmly against his body and when Christine's arms wrapped around his neck, he deepened the kiss.
Lady Jersey stared at the embracing couple with a combination of dismay and horror. Never had she seen such a shocking display of affection in Society! The hard look in her eyes softened when she saw the loving look the couple shared before ordering their carriage and cloaks.
She smiled to herself when she saw the way Lord Erik carefully draped his lady's cloak about her shoulders. Lady Erik made a comment to her husband while caressing his jaw and was treated to a nod and a brief kiss on her palm. Lady Jersey's smile grew as Lord Erik quickly escorted his wife out to their carriage.
It was a known fact that her ladyship had a fondness for romances. Theirs, it seemed, was a match made in heaven. She smiled to herself and ordered a glass of champagne.