Chapter 1
Although not completely managing to disguise the nervous anxiety building up in the bottom of her heart, Charlotte continued to walk up the path that lead to the doorway regardless.
She took the black metal handle and pulled. She did not hear any movement from beyond the large oak door, nor hear the bell ring as she pulled it. She waited - her eyes wide with anticipation and her body unmoving apart from small controlled breaths.
The door creaked open and Charlotte took a step back in order to grant her and the person within an appropriate space by which they could occupy. The answerer was in the shape of a quite small and almost sinewy man. He was dressed like an English Butler, rather than what she had come to expect from French Butler's. His small flat forehead was contoured into a long thin nose that pointed down at the end like a beak. His grey tinged cheeks hung inwards and seemed to underline his gaunt expression. His thin lips wear clamped together until he opened them to pronounce a quick and polite greeting followed by an enquiry as to her visit.
Charlotte was almost pleased that her immediate inclination had been correct about this inexpressive servant. Although he spoke to her in French with a most appropriate accent, she could hear his native tongue within certain words; therefore she resolved to answer him in English.
"Good day. My name is Madame Durose and I wish to have an audience, most briefly, with the Viscount and Viscountess if I may" She followed this by a small smile, curling the sides of her mouth slightly and appropriately. This was France, but she was not afraid of being regarded as 'Anglais'.
"You are not within their immediate acquaintance Madame?" he asked, not remotely perturbed at the show of mutual understanding.
"No. I am not, however, we share a mutual acquaintance and it is in regards to this gentleman that I wish to speak with them about." Her tone had changed somewhat towards the aloof and her gait had altered. She held herself more staunch and upright, the very well practiced air of a lady.
"Please carry this note" she began, thrusting a small white envelope in the direction of the butler "to your employers, if you please". He made a slight bow which was greeted by a slight nod.
She stood in the sheltered doorway, which offered some solace from the damp January morning. She turned to face the gravel path she had just traversed and then turned her eyes towards the textured grey-white sky. It hadn't snowed for a couple of weeks and the ice had held off. It was simply a cold, damp and blustery day. There was a movement behind her – she turned, the soles of her shoes scuffed against the ancient stone slab that she stood upon. In the door stood a small woman, much younger than herself. She had an oval face, accentuated by the old fashioned, tight white cloth bonnet fastened tightly about her face.
"Bonjour" the girl smiled, followed by a polite curtsey, and then she asked
"vous aiment me suivre satisfont, Madame?" Charlotte retuned her curtsey more enthusiastically this time. This woman was barely out of girlhood and yet exerted greater manners than a servant who was not only her superior, but also from a country that was renowned for its people's manners.
Charlotte followed the servant into the entrance, with it's fine marbled floor which made her heels click against it. It was cool and bright and large sash windows flanked each side of the great door, pouring in masses of light that exposed the brightest hues of each piece of wood and every thread of fabric. It was certainly the seat of a rich and noble family – which one could have easily assumed resided no longer within France after the Revolution had removed the higher echelons of society.
Charlotte was lead into a fine reception room at the front of the house. Its walls were of an indiscernible patterned navy blue and a large grey stone fireplace rose with might in the centre of the opposite wall to the door.
It was here that Charlotte was bid to stay and the young woman exited the room backwards with her eyes downcast as if to make a sign of respect. How queer? Charlotte thought, little calling to mind that people often acted in this manner towards her. This realisation did not take long to manifest itself in her thoughts and she smiled sadly to herself with it. She had dressed in mourning since she was quite a young woman, a girl of seventeen and now she was one-and-forty.
A moment or two passed before the next interruption. This time it was the ill-mannered Butler who had answered the door and had left her stood there without a hint of his returning; except a stiff bow and a cold look.
Following him, as he held open the door, was first the Viscount and then the Viscountess. Charlotte's eyes drifted over the Viscount quickly and did not take much note of him, as they dearly wanted to take in the woman whom she felt had replaced her in the affections of someone she had mourned all these years.
The Viscountess was, in a word, beautiful. This immediate inclination left Charlotte feeling as though a blow to her very soul had been rendered. She had a perfect translucent skin that was as flawless as a porcelain doll. Her eyes were large and bright and perfect blue, unlike her own, which were more of a velvet dark blue with flecks of grey. Her bright blonde hair was elegantly arranged off her neck and gave her a sophisticated look. One would be excused in thinking it a preposterous notion that this woman was once a ballet dancer and rising soprano in her youth.
Charlotte turned her eyes away to the floor as the pain inside her rose anew and she tried to put it to one side. She was not here for her own ends and she berated herself for thinking of her own feelings.
The Butler hovered by the door, as if awaiting for some instructions to be issued by his master. "Hello" said the Viscount as he walked towards were Charlotte stood. Charlotte curtseyed as serenely as befitted a woman enrobed in ebony. The Viscount and Viscountess replied in the same fashion.
"Please, take a seat Madame" he motioned with his right hand towards a small arrangement of hand embroidered soft chairs clustered by the hearth.
"Thank you" Charlotte replied as they moved over to the chairs. The Viscountess sat next to her husband on a small couch with their backs to the door. Charlotte sat on the left of them on a single chair. She assumed that this was so that no-one was cast into shadow by the looming window that was just as magnificent as the two that resided by the entrance.
"It is so good of you to see me" Charlotte began.
The Viscount turned to his servant
"That will be all for now Leighton" he said and the stony faced man removed himself from the room without a sound.
"It is perhaps through curiosity maybe" the Viscount paused and looked thoughtful. Charlotte fancied that he was trying to find the correct English word to describe his thoughts and was finding it a troublesome task.
"It is very good of you to speak in English with me, as this is your home and I am but a visitor, may I therefore suggest we converse in French?" Charlotte waited nervously for their reply. That feeling that she had nursed on the way to the front door was gnawing at her insides now and she wished to spell out her business plainly and quickly.
"I think not" said the Viscount.
His wife, who had remained silent and motionless until then, turned her head to face him.
"I would rather you say what you need to say in your native tongue. Do not think that it will be lost on either of us as our understanding of your language is excellent. Besides, you are much more able to speak more comfortably and freely in your own language" he briefly glanced at his wife whose face had relaxed from query to understanding.
"Very well" Charlotte said, feeling slightly relieved. Although she had at one stage lived in France, her understanding of the language had lapsed over the years as she had not set foot in the country since shortly after widowhood.
"I realise that you may have been quite startled by my note, however, I did not think that you would both wish to see me unless I sent a note outlining our" she paused "mutual acquaintance". The Viscountess breathed out slowly and Charlotte noticed this but chose to ignore it.
"I wrote in the note that I wished to speak with you urgently regarding the gentleman you both knew many years ago by only the name of Erik". She tried to gauge their expressions but moved on quickly.
"He has had many names and descriptions over the years and the legend has surpassed the man. I have been back to the Garnier and do you know what they say? They say he really was a spectre, buried in one of the cellars! They say he killed a hundred men and other such preposterous notions. No doubt having spiralled out of control as rumours and stories of that nature can do. No, we know different, do we not? I knew him before you did, Madame, as I believe your acquaintance with this gentleman was different to that of your husbands"
She felt as though she was speaking out of turn and in a rather too familiar fashion and she could not afford to lose this audience that she could barely believe she had been granted. She decided to stop speculating and move on with more purpose and to outline her history as briefly as she could.
It hurt when she spoke of what her family had done to her to pull her apart from Erik and all the hell that her step brother had put her through since. She tried to put it all across as she spoke, hoping against hope that her history alone would ensure the safety of whom she sought it for, not for herself.
"You're family were cruel to plan such a thing, however, I can understand their concern and horror at their discovery of your union with Erik" said the Viscount, who had listened intently throughout.
"I know that if our daughter, who is of that age now, did something like that, and I too would be driven to extremes. I would not hurt her – never, but I could not be happy with the thought of her being married to someone, someone" he struggled to think of the correct word. Charlotte knew he was not trying to find an English word, rather an appropriate one.
"Like Erik?" she finished.
"Yes" said the Viscountess.
"You have related a history that tells us that you had eloped with this man and that your family by some means clearly discovered this. Why is this urgent? What has this to do with the present day? Did you simply wish to see us and tell us of your woe that was indirectly or directly caused by Erik? We both can understand the harshness of the misery Erik can cause" the Viscount paused here and looked at his wife's face, which was not as pale as it had been during the tale uttered by this Madame Noir.
"You are right" Charlotte agreed "I have told you nothing of my love affair with Erik, so that and my feelings for him may seem redundant and superfluous. I have just told you about the fury of my family. Yet, I can understand why you would protect your own child; however, I was never able to think of it as 'protection'. I was never that fortunate. My son's life is now in great peril."
The Viscountess shifted uneasily in her seat when she mentioned her son. Charlotte had not given much thought as to how these two people would react to the fact that she had not only married their Phantom, but also had his child.
"As I have said, I was married to Erik as a young woman and that I am from quite a powerful and influential family, even in France. I discovered I was pregnant only after they had torn Erik and I apart and then convinced me that they had murdered him. I had to escape. I was young and frightened. If they knew I was pregnant, well, I just don't wish to think about what they would have done to my son. It was because of this I had to flee France and my family and because of this I found myself in England and eventually the town of Coalcote in the North West. All those years I raised my son on my own and tried to make a new life for myself. I thought my husband was genuinely dead, my family were very persuasive." She grimaced at the thought of how they managed to do this and then continued.
"To avoid detection, I changed my name, in spelling only from Durose to Durrows" here she quickly spelt both names.
"My step brother James finally managed to track us down and we have had to flee. Each time we settled, we would have to flee. This happened until we ended up in London; it was here that we heard of the tale of the Phantom of the Opera and of your involvement with Erik. We had to travel to Paris to find out if it was true, what we had heard. From what I can tell, it is. This is why I am come. My step brother is not going to stop until he finds us and kills us, I am certain. Why they wish us dead after all these years, I do not know. This is why I am here." She sighed audibly with noticeable anguish.
"I know you do not know me and I do not know you. I know that the only thing we have in common is our sad experiences with a now almost mythical figure – yet, you are my last hope. I cannot see a direction in which I can turn and then traverse that leads to my son's safety. I cannot" she stifled a sob by lowering her eyes and bringing her handkerchief to her tightly closed mouth. She paused a moment longer and then continued.
"I ask you, as a parent and as a human being – help me"
"How could we possibly help you? If your step brother is so determined to have you both dead, I doubt that there is much we can offer –"the Viscount paused. He was being very helpful perhaps even unkind here. His wife placed her hand over his and turned to Charlotte whose lashes were now wet. It moved her to see this woman struggle so hard to keep her composure whilst under such clear distress.
"What help had you in mind Madame?" her husband shifted next to her. She did not care if he objected.
"Please, take him into your household, as a servant, as something. James would never dare approach you about one of your servants and if he tried to make you an offer or pronounce an accusation against him, he knows that you are of an upright character and would not stand for such debauched skulduggery." Charlotte's eye's were gleaming as she put across her proposal. A little more colour flushed into her cheeks, making her look a little younger in countenance.
The Viscountess smiled warmly at her. It must have been desperation that drove her to seek them, and how friendless must she be! She had no other acquaintance to recall other than the weak one she was endeavouring to acknowledge now.
"If we did employ him here, there is no guarantee that he would be safe. I could not vouch for his continuous security" the Viscount interjected.
Charlotte opened her mouth to utter another plea, but the Viscountess managed to speak before she did.
"It is right of you to come here and ask us for help. We are people of position and therefore it is our duty to try and care for those who are less fortunate than ourselves. What you propose is not outrageous and certainly executable." She said, nudging her husband who had now resigned to the fact that it was his wife's wish to allow this woman's proposal to take place and he nodded an approval at her.
"Then we can see what we can find for him" smiled the Viscountess who was looking at her husband.
"We shall find him a role. This house is outside of Paris and therefore perhaps outside of this James' sphere of knowledge." His wife brightened next to him and touched his upper arm as a sign of gratitude and affection.
"You must send for him directly, Madame Durose and have him received by the servants entrance, there he will be directed to Hortense, our house keeper who will grant him an occupation and board" as the Viscountess finished speaking, the window that overlooked the drive and the beginning of a dense forest rising either side of the it, was starting to become spattered with thick flakes of snow. All three turned and looked at the white specks clustering and then dispersing in great clusters whirling about behind the panes.
Charlotte made a move to indicate she was about to rise, and the other two rose with her. They stood silently for a moment, Charlotte desperately wanting to burst into tears with the relief of finding the haven she had sought for her son. She had not expected it to be as simple as this. She had expected them to at first be repulsed by the association they mutually shared. She had expected, perhaps a sympathetic ear, but a polite refusal at the end – yet there she stood, trembling with the effort of refusing to let the tears, heavy and burning in her lower lids, to fall.
She raised her handkerchief to her eyes and let the tears flow into them than down her face. "I'm so sorry" she finally managed "I just didn't expect such civility and compassion. I thought that all – hope – was "she gasped and buried her face in the white cloth she already held near. She felt mortified that she could not help but let this betrayal of emotion burst forth from her aching soul. She breathed slowly to compose herself and raised her eyes once more to the on lookers.
"I apologise once more" she managed.
"Do not apologise to us" said the Viscountess, placing a hand gently on Charlotte's shoulder.
"We are parents too and I can only imagine what we would feel like if we were in you place."
"Thank you" Charlotte managed to smile without her lips trembling. She was starting to feel awkward now and was conscious that the snow was becoming heavier and she must away now or she may not be able to make it home at all.
"I must go now, before this storm worsens and I get caught in a drift or am unable to see ahead" This sentence was punctuated by a wild howl of wind that travelled down the chimney breast and through the fire place.
"How do you intend on travelling back to the city?" asked the Viscount, turning to eye the growing swarm of flakes.
"By foot" answered Charlotte who was now pulling on her gloves.
"You walked here in the first place?" asked the Viscount "from the city?"
"Yes" replied Charlotte, now tugging her shall about her to ensure it would not come away during her journey.
"It is twenty miles to reach even the suburbs!" exclaimed the Viscountess who was crossing her arms to retain warmth and to quell a shiver that commenced at the very thought of going even going outside.
"You must not walk all that way now. I will have one of the drivers to prepare the old carriage for you. We use it on the rare occasions one of the servants needs to taken home in an emergency. Hortense and Leighton have it for their own business. It is a small reward for their devoted service; however, they use it rarely. Do not attempt to refuse this offer. We could not possibly be happy to think of you wandering about in the snow." The Viscount finished his final sentence as he pulled on a length of velvet rope hanging discreetly in a corner close to the door.
"I cannot accept your generous offer – you have already been kind beyond words"
"And then you will appreciate that we are the type of people who are not willing to think of any creature suffering." The Viscountess smiled once again at Charlotte. How warm and genuine her smile was and she was grateful to be bestowed with the sunshine of it once again. The Viscountess had perfect white teeth surrounded by pale rose pink lips to make up a small and elegant mouth. The pangs of jealousy Charlotte had once felt, after learning that the Viscountess had been once involved with her husband, although much against her will so she heard, rose anew. She buried them quickly. She knew that the Viscountess was aware of this and she did not want to cause an atmosphere – there was too much at stake.
To break the silence that had fallen over the room, the awaited servant appeared, an order was given and a nod and a small bow. The Viscount looked to Charlotte.
"Please follow this girl. She will take you to where the carriage will be made ready for you go home."
"Thank you" Charlotte smiled and turned to mark her respects to both the Viscount and Viscountess in turn, with a polite curtsey. "You are more than kind".
"And you are more than welcome" returned the Viscountess as Charlotte withdrew from the room, leaving both the Viscount and Viscountess looking on with curious expressions upon their faces.