Back to Paris

Today we were completing the rnovations on the chapel, I had been working day and night to get things done, and had made great progress until the post came today. As tedious and painstaking as the finishing touches were, I was taking great pleasure from sanding the last beam to perfection when my assistant brought me a letter. Apparently Madame Giry had been trying to reach me for two days before the letter found me. As I read the note I dropped the sandpaper, and started walking towards the house to collect my things. I barked out a few orders on what I wanted the men to continue doing, there wasn’t really that much to finish, my mind reeling from the words I was trying to comprehend

Erik. I am sorry to have to write you in your absence. I have done all that I know how to do, but I am extremely worried about Ms. Daae. Christine was feeling ill when you left, if you recall, we thought it was just a cold. I have called in a doctor, but I am afraid he has not been much help. His exact words were, “If she lives she will be stronger than ever, but if she does not…” He is not holding out much hope for her, she is coughing something terrible, her body gets weaker as each moment passes. I fear for her life now. Meg is standing vigil during the day, and I at night, she can barely walk on her own. I fear that lapsing in and out of consciousness is coming next. In all my years, I have never seen anything as dreadful as this. Please advise.

As I collected my belongings my mind was racing, going back and forth between what remedy would be best for her situation. Damning myself for leaving when she was ill, why did I go? I paid a stable boy to go into town as fast as he possibly could and send a telegraph to the Opera House.

Tea infusion. Honey ginger lemon green tea horseradish. Will be home shortly.

-E