Summary: Erik has been whisked away to England where Meg continues to care for him. Not having been out in the world Erik needs guidance as well as a keeper of his lost soul. Devastated beyond human endurance Meg must keep a constant vigil on her charge to keep him from harm. Whether by his own hand, or the unforgiving world that had rejected him from birth.

Wings of an Angel

Chapter One

Angel's Sorrow

Sunlight glinted through the windows as if the panes of glass were shot through with diamonds. Specks of dust floated in the beams of light shining into the room. The patio doors were opened to allow anyone in the library to sit and enjoy the chirping of the birds as they fought over the seeds in the feeder. Every now and then one could hear the splash of wings as a tiny bird bathed in the birdbath. All pleasant diversions on a lazy summer day to be sure.

The library had little sound other than an occasional turn of a page accompanied by a contented sigh and ticking of the mantle clock. Peace and quiet seemed to be the order of the moment. Sunlight cast its warming rays on the down turned golden head. The novel she held in her hands told of a great romance between a man tortured by his past and a beautiful young heroine who fell in love with him despite his black moods and angry words he shouted at her constantly as he fought the tenderness he felt toward the young maiden.

The story held her interest so avidly because she felt it mirrored her own life at the moment. Love, if that is what she felt, had been working its way into her heart despite her best efforts to deny any such emotion toward her angry charge. On his part she felt tolerance would be an adequate word to describe his emotional response to her presence. Despite the months of tender care and all the sleepless nights she had watched over him she still felt he kept himself at a distance. Under the circumstances that was understandable and even expected. With time she had hoped things would change, he would change. Thus far he remained locked in the nightmare of his lost love. Because he could not abandon hope the woman who rejected him would one day return it kept him forever tied heart and soul to a woman who may never be by his side.

Whenever she tried to gently remind him that he had a new life worth living his anger exploded to such an intensity at times she feared what he might do. Deep down she held the belief that he did care for her and would never hurt her intentionally. The days when he shouted curses at anyone who so much as looked at him had begun to dwindle. The servants knew to take a wide birth if they heard his loud curses or the crash of breaking glass. Those occurrences had been a daily routine for many months. They had tapered off but not disappeared altogether.

Sighing loudly she looked at the clock. Not much time left to enjoy the rush of warmth the story had brought to her heart. It began to look as if the brooding hero and the heroine would find their happily ever after. If only…well at the moment her life could fill a book with if onlys.

This quiet wouldn't last. It never did on those days when the papers carried news of the happy French aristocratic couple. For now all seemed to be gloriously quiet. The young woman could calculate almost to the second when the peace would end. Had not she gone through many similar days in the past six months?

A satisfied and contented sigh left the young woman's lips as she reached the end of her chapter. Her romantic interlude with the hero of her novel would have to continue tomorrow, or if she were lucky tonight when she crawled into her warm lonely bed.

Glancing at the clock once more she sighed heavily preparing herself mentally for what was to come. It wouldn't be much longer now. She thought it best to prepare for the destruction to come in the next few minutes. Lord knows she had plenty of practice cleaning up after and calming the beast after those moments of pure rage. At times he did seem to expend his rage more quickly these days.

As soon as he read the headlines she expected to hear glass breaking, furniture flying and the air to turn blue with curses. He would roar in anger until he had no more anger to spew forth. The anger would give way to the anguish and tears. He would mourn his loss for days. Why he would do this to himself remained a mystery. Surely by now he could see there was no future in holding onto something that truly never was a reality? Could he not see that another could and would give him everything his lonely heart yearned to have? That she would give him everything? No he was not ready for such a revelation just yet. In time perhaps if she could retain her patient vigil he might turn to her. Until then she must do her best to keep him from being his own worst enemy.

One month of somewhat peaceful days and now this bit of news had to come to ruin their peace, not that Meg begrudged Christine and Raoul there moments of bliss but she did wish Erik had more time before another glimpse into the happy couples life showed him everything he himself had given up when he released Christine into Raoul's care.

He would have moments of shouting and bad temper when some small article would carry the names of the couple who had broken him leaving him a shell of a man. With the lessoning of the tirades it did seem as if he would soon mend then something new would set him off making a mockery of the preceding peace. This last blow Meg considered somewhat of a touchy point with Erik. He had to think of what his own children would have to bear if he were to eventually share such things with a woman. He'd not wish to burden a child with the same affliction which had ruled his tragic life to this point.

She had thought to keep the paper from him but he would only badger her for it or send one of the staff to fetch a new one. If she kept it from him Erik would know it contained something she wished to hide from him.

She could not believe that in six months he had not seemed to let go of Christine one tiny bit. If he was not composing frantically at all hours creating romantically sad and heartrending music he paced about holding her picture murmuring to himself. He drew her image over and over. He barely slept or ate. If not for her nagging and cajoling him Meg thought he would simply waste away.

Meg knew this could not go on much longer. He had been ill when she had found him in the tunnel the night of Don Juan Triumphant. Not an illness of the body even though he had been feverish, but one more of the mind and soul. He had recovered from his physical illness, now he needed to mend his mental and emotional illness. She tried but he resisted all her efforts to come closer to him, to know him better. Erik would not concede that he needed human contact other than his memory of Christine. He needed someone who would be there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. If he would open his eyes he would see that Meg could give him everything he had ever wanted. For now he was not ready to accept what she would willingly give.

He had begged her to let him die during those first few days of recuperating. He had cursed her when she forced him to his feet the night of the last performance at L'Opéra Populaire. To get him on his feet she had asked him if he would want to repay her mother's years of loyal service with the death of her daughter. If they did not move the gendarmes, local police and people who had worked in the opera house would find them and shoot and ask questions later when they caught up with them.

Tired to death of referring to him as The Phantom or Opera Ghost, Meg had asked him if he had a name. For many moments he had looked at her blankly as if he had to think of an answer, which later she found out he had indeed needed to think to recall what his name had been. He had not been called by his name since he was about five and given to the Gypsies or sold, he could not remember clearly.

He had told her his name was Erik. She had not asked for a surname at that time. When they had decided to leave France she had asked and he had told her he did not know. He only vaguely remembered being called Erik. Was it not fortunate he knew himself to be other than The Devil's Child or his most recent titles? His laugh at his own joke held more the sound of dry sobs than laughter.

Meg's mother, Antoinette Giry had dared to offer Erik her own family name, Trudeau. So Erik Trudeau had been born.

Knowing Erik must have funds hidden someplace Antoinette had badgered him until he had relented and told her where she might find his wealth. The sum he had extorted from the different managers over the years had accumulated into a tidy sum. More than a man could spend sensibly in his lifetime.

Erik could not travel alone nor be trusted not to bring some harm to himself or worse track down Raoul and Christine. It had been decided that Antoinette and Meg would accompany Erik on his journey to England.

Erik, Antoinette and Meg had stayed in the small nondescript apartment in London while Antoinette had gone round to the estate agents in search of the perfect home for a man who needed seclusion but needed to be near the arts if the mood struck him to partake of such things.

After a month and a half of looking the perfect estate had come on the market. The fifteen room home was surrounded by a hundred acres of lush green grass. Horses and cows had come with the property as well as a number of people who lived and worked on the estate as tenants farming the land and herding the flocks of sheep.

Meg had fallen in love with the three story house as soon as she laid eyes on it. Erik had grumbled about the need for a great deal of staff to run such a place. He had negative offerings to throw out no matter what the circumstances. Meg began to think it was his negativity that had kept him separated from humanity rather than the misfortune of his disfigured face.

They settled in quite nicely as far as Erik was concerned. He had thought Meg and her mother had given up on the idea of staff. He had been wrong. A parade of people had come and gone through his home. The women insisted he be present during the interviews so they could get an honest reaction to Erik, not only his face, but his less than cordial disposition. Erik on his best days could be quite formidable. Meg preferred not to think of his worst days.

Meg met his rages with calm even when at times he frightened her. Even believing he would not hurt her did not belie the fact that she did fear him a little. Sometimes his rages took complete control of him. He lost all sense of himself and became something quite evil. With Meg's calming influence those worst days were becoming fewer and fewer while being of shorter duration.

Erik had never been taught how to show displeasure without letting his emotions get out of hand. He had the same problem showing affection as he did keeping his rage and anger under control. For Erik it had always been all or nothing.

This attitude had been what most likely caused his failure to sway Christine to his side. If Erik showed a little less aggression and more kindness and care he might have been able to win Christine. Meg did not doubt that Christine felt something deep for Erik. Everyone had seen it plainly displayed upon the stage during the last performance. The powerful seductive spell Erik had woven had almost had Christine throwing caution to the wind and forgoing her part in the plan to capture or kill Erik.

Christine had told Meg later that if Erik had not used Raoul's exact words to try to sway her to him, she might have given in. By the time they had reached the top of the stairs Christine had been so inflamed by desire for her Angel of Music all else had faded into the background. When Erik had caressed her all else seemed not to matter. Then he had used Raoul's words waking Christine from her entrancement.

In all his life no one had loved Erik or shown him how to express those feelings. Meg thought that was why he had failed with Christine. He had frightened her so badly any tenderness she might have felt for him was not allowed to blossom under Erik's tyranny and anger. He could bring Christine almost to the point of surrender then ruin it all with an outburst of anger.

Meg did not doubt at all that her dear sister loved Erik deeply even as she feared him. Christine never failed to ask after Erik on Meg's monthly visits to Paris. Neither mentioned the fact that Christine kept it a secret from Raoul that she asked after Erik's health.

Antoinette had returned to France expecting Meg to come home soon after. Meg had delayed her return home month after month until she had at last admitted to her mother that she could not bear to leave Erik alone. She had come to care deeply for him. She couldn't say it was definitely love as Erik would not let her explore that avenue in their relationship or even if they could have a relationship as he refused to let the past go.

Meg became so frustrated at times she felt as if she could shake Erik until his teeth rattled. The man had no compass to go by when his emotions ran rampant. Erik's lifestyle during his time in the opera house did not give him any coping skills. He saw something he wanted and he took it irregardless of the consequences.

Erik had so little in his life that he did not deny himself anything once he held sway over the opera house. His arrogance had led to his downfall. Meg could feel pity for the man even as she detested his actions.

She felt shame at times when she thought how glad she was that Christine had fallen in love with Raoul instead of Erik, at least not in the way he had wanted Christine to love him. Erik had been far too demanding for Christine. Meg loved her adopted sister dearly but did not have blinders on regarding Christine's shortcomings. Christine needed someone who would cherish her while making her feel protected and coddled. Raoul did that quite nicely whereas Erik had demanded things Christine had not been willing or able to give to him.

Christine needed safety and security. Erik could not be considered either of those things at the moment, perhaps not ever. Erik had a lot of progressing to do before he could even know how to love a woman properly.

Meg's introspections were interrupted by the loud roar she had been expecting followed by the crashing of glass and splintering wood. Erik kept the local craftsman busy for certain. The man had even gone so far as to begin leaving his tools in the garden shed.

Sighing tiredly Meg got to her feet. She went into the hall to see the staff scurrying about like rats on a sinking ship. Meg wished at times she could scuttle away and hide from Erik's temper.

She went to find Deacon, the stable boy. He was the one Meg always sent for the man who repaired things once Erik had finished one of his destructive rages. No doubt this time would be no different than the others. Erik would leave whatever room he was in looking as if some violent act of nature had occurred.

Meg mounted the stairs wondering when this would end. Her patience was teetering on the brink ready to fall off the cliff of tolerance. A particularly thunderous clash of glass against other glass had her grabbing her skirt so she could take the stairs at a faster pace. Heaven help anyone who had been in the room with Erik.