A/N: I've tried to hold off posting this story so I could devote my time to Innocence Lost posted on fiction press but I miss my days with Erik. Who wouldn't want to spend an hour or two with such a passionate man? Be kind and review. Thank you to all who read my offering.

Erik's Legacy

Chapter One

Dangerous Liaisons Helene Lefèvre

The note to Aunt Eileen came this afternoon. The man who brought it round to her door seemed agitated and anxious to be gone. I took the envelope knowing what it might contain. Flicking the end of the paper against the palm of my hand I debated whether I should let her know anything had arrived from Antoinette. Aunt Eileen has not been well and she does not need this aggravation of an Opera Ghost even if she feels the excitement is good for her. At forty-eight and being a widow with no children she feels life has slipped past leaving her with so many regrets. She misses my uncle terribly as do I.

I remember those days when I was younger and we would visit Uncle Henri at the opera house. It used to puzzle me why he seemed so nervous all the time and why he tried to send us away almost as soon as we got there. Aunt Eileen would not hear of missing one single production during the season and for that I am grateful even if it began to wear on Uncle's nerves.

I have since learned why he always looked as if the devil looked over his shoulder. A devil did indeed trouble him but this demon had the substance of a man, a horrible wicked man. His antics caused my uncle so much distress that eventually he sold the opera house he loved so much. He moved to Australia for a time but he missed France as did Aunt Eileen. I on the other hand loved Australia. I looked on it as a new frontier, one I wished to explore but I could not remain there on my own so when they came back to France I did too.

Even though Uncle Henri had nothing to do with the opera house he still kept track of all that went on. He may as well still have owned the darn thing as it still set his nerves off every time something was mentioned in the papers about the Opera Ghost or Phantom. Ridiculous nonsense I said but I was proved wrong. Not that the problems stemmed from any apparition but the troubles were no less dangerous coming from a man who sought to topple the very building he occupied.

Antoinette had told Aunt Eileen the man had threatened to bring down the chandelier if Mademoiselle Daaé did not agree to go with him. Even though that kind of love has never befallen me I can understand the power of it but also think in this case it is more obsession than love. What must he have suffered down in his dark world with so little contact with anyone? That does not excuse any of the horrible actions he has taken but it does give a reason for his insanity.

I suppose this letter is to alert us as to the man's intentions so Aunt Eileen can set her part of the plan in motion. It is lunacy I say. Let Raoul and the gendarmes handle this. Why put us all in danger trying to save the very madman who would kill us all with his crazed plan?

Sighing deeply in disgust I know I have no choice. If I discard the letter, that could place others in danger who count on our part of this plan. It is left to us to try to persuade our Opera Ghost to come with us and leave Paris and all its problems behind. Likely he'll not want to leave his love behind but Aunt Eileen can be persuasive when she puts her mind to it.

Aunt Eileen is just as excited about the message within the envelope as I feared she would be. Nothing can be planned with any certainty as we have no real idea what is going on in the madman's mind. What Antoinette suggests is that we bring a carriage around to the Rue Scribbe entrance then attend the performance as planned. From the vantage point of our box we can assess the situation and act accordingly. I fear both Aunt Eileen and Antoinette place too much confidence in the man acting sane at the eleventh hour. If he loves this young woman as Antoinette declares he does he will not be willing to leave without some last grand gesture to win her. I feel it is the chandelier coming down during the performance that will signal either the end of a tragic love affair or the beginning of a great one. Likely it will end in tragedy. Aren't all great love affairs fashioned to end that way? Any opera worth its salt is steeped in tragic despair from the characters.

As I watch Aunt Eileen fight to catch her breath after one of her spells I find myself worrying about this lingering cough. She has been tested for tuberculosis and the doctor assured that affliction did not reside in her weak lungs. Some other unknown disease seemed to have taken root and continued to grow causing further problems. How much longer this could go on I am afraid to ask the doctor outright. My aunt is the last of my family and I shudder to think of life lived alone with no one to count on other than the servants.

She waves me off when I would have gone to her and says weakly, "I will be fine. Just give me a minute." She smiles at me reassuringly pressing her hand into her chest. Her once vibrant blue eyes are faded more this last month than before. Her skin has a pallor that has nothing to do with fashion.

No matter what I say Aunt Eileen will do as her friend wishes. I can't help but curse Antoinette for coming and laying this on my aunt's doorstep just when she had a need to think more of herself.

Antoinette had come last week wringing her hands worriedly and telling us about this man she has kept hidden. Aunt Eileen did not look at all surprised by the tall tale being told to us. In fact midway through she had placed her hand over Antoinette's to still her and inform her that most of what she said was already known by half of Paris in one form or another. Depending on which person told the tale it had slightly different information but basically it was the story of some poor disfigured boy a young Madame Giry, then Mademoiselle Antoinette Trudeau, had rescued and taken to live in the bowels of the opera house.

These tales were not known by any of the highbrow patrons of the opera house, no, these stories had been told and retold over the years around gypsy campfires and by other vagrants passing through Paris. Street urchins knew of him as he paid well for services rendered. Shopkeepers spoke of a mysterious late night caller who would buy their goods and pay a handsome premium for the privilege of secrecy.

Eileen Dupree met and married my uncle, Monsieur Henri Lefèvre some years ago. Later he met Madame Giry a young ballerina destined for center stage until an unforeseen accident had left her with a limp. She would never dance again but she could teach others splendidly. From the time they met both women found a kindred spirit. It did not matter that my aunt came from noble blood or that her husband could buy and sell whole countries and not bat an eye.

How anyone can make excuses for what this devilish man did is beyond me but Aunt Eileen has a heart so tender it pains her to see others suffer. Only she would forgive the man who had used such extreme measures to control Uncle Henri's opera house. The man had even been said to have murdered several people, one stagehand for sure and perhaps many more bodies lie hidden down in the catacombs travelled by the one haunting L'Opéra Populaire.

What Antoinette wanted from my aunt that day was her promise to help this man if ever there should come a time he needed to escape for whatever reason. From all the rumors going round the dinner parties and articles in the papers it was a safe bet he'd need rescuing in the near future unless someone, namely Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, did away with the lunatic haunting the opera house and murdering innocent people. Aunt Eileen does not agree with me about this man she has promised to aid should he need it. She sees him as a lost soul.

I suppose with Uncle Henri having died only some ten months ago she is lost without him. She needs to find a cause to occupy her lonely days and nights. I try my best but my companionship is not what she wants. She needs a man by her side. She has always had a male in her life to tell her what to do and tell her all the things women love to hear. She is not one who can survive long without a mate. At forty-eight she is still a vibrant and attractive woman or at least I had thought so until recently.

"Aunt Eileen you can't mean to honor this promise you made in a weak moment. Antoinette will understand if you refuse. Tell her your health…"

"My dear my health is my own concern." She must have seen the hurt I could not hide at her careless words for she patted my hand then continued kindly, "Helene, contrary to what you may think, I am not yet ready to pick out my coffin or prepare the family plot."

"I never…"

"Oh I know you didn't mean it that way. I am just trying to say I may not feel as I did when I was a young girl but I still have some kick left in me."

"I know. I am sorry if I seem to come on too strong but I am only concerned you will let your friendship overrule your sensibilities at this time. Have you even considered what a responsibility this man will be? What if he won't come? What if, God forbid, he decides to murder us all?"

"Well my dear Helene if you are worried about your safety you may stay at home and oversee the preparations for the arrival of our guest. I won't hold it against you if you don't wish to participate."

"Oh no. I shall not be left behind to worry and wonder what is happening. I shall be right by your side every step of the way."

She once again patted my knee and looked at me knowingly as she said, "I would not have it any other way."

Why do I have the feeling I have been maneuvered into making a decision against my principals?