Fingertips of Air
Chapter One
Twenty some odd years ago, when the third Chagny son was only days old, the Opera Garnier had reopened. It was several years after the fire and the marriage of Raoul and Christine. Even though it had been opened under the same management of Andre and Firmin, they had retired some years back and the new managers were a couple of Belgians that started to produce English plays.
None of the original cast had returned. Some claimed they were too scared of the Opera Ghost, though it was doubtful he was even still alive. Others said that they just didn't want to come back. But by that time, a good number of them had more important things to deal with. That is where Christine was. Having three children had left her plump and years without practice made her voice rough. Even if she could still sing, her duties as a mother wouldn't allow her to be at the theatre for that long.
For years, people had worried about the phantom coming back. But after years of absolutely no sign on him, the fear had waned drastically. Of course, there would always be that one person that would blame the ghost for a fallen sandbag, but nothing serious had happened. The fearsome Opera Ghost must be dead.
888
The Chagny Estate
The party that evening had been the talk of Paris for the better part of a month. It was well known that the Viscount spared no expense when it came to entertaining his guests and his beautiful wife was a wonderful hostess. It also wasn't too bad that her two available sons weren't bad to look at. The eldest one, Henry, was married the year before while the youngest just had his twenty first birthday, but it was well known that the middle son was by far the most attractive.
Emile often looked at his older brother with jealousy just for that fact. Philippe, named for their deceased uncle, was masculine, broad, everything that a woman would look for in a husband, not to even mention rich. Emile was a spitting image of his father, from his beautiful blue eyes to his fair hair and complexion. He didn't know how it was possible that he was the one to end up with such feminine features while his two older brothers were both ideal men. Oh, he knew that a few of the girls in the family's circle had their pretty eyes on him, but that didn't make him any less self conscious.
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Many more people showed up than Emile had thought would and soon enough he found he was not as good as circulating the room as he should have been. Often, he ended up on the sidelines, watching people. Just as often, people would come and talk to him. Emile found he liked this arrangement and stopped attempting to be as wonderful as his mother.
While in the middle of the conversation with a very nice Dutch girl with a cute accent, an old man in a wheelchair approached him. Emile could not remember this man's name and was highly doubtful if he had ever met the man at all. The girl, upon seeing the old man, bowed out.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Chagny," The man greeted.
"Bonjour, monsieur. I'm sorry, but I don't believe we have met before," Emile admitted, bowing slightly to the seated man.
"Oh, in some way we have. You look exactly like your father used to. I used to employ your mother."
Ah, Emile thought, he must have been one of the infamous managers that are sometimes the butt of his parent's jokes. He knew nothing of the men, hardly their names, but he knew a good number of jokes about them.
"You're mother looks quite different now," the ex-manager went on, "I wonder how the Phantom would like her now." That caught Emile's attention.
"Excuse me, did you say Phantom?" Emile had never heard of any phantom before, but the man only wore a sly smile as he casually checked the grandfather clock near them.
"Merde," He said, slowly saying the swear and making Emile blush with such a casual use, "I should be getting home. You hurt one leg and your entire family thinks you need a sharp curfew. Please do tell your parents that Andre stopped by." He started to wheel away and Emile was quite impressed by his complete independence from the nurse that he had only just now seen lurking to the side.
"Wait!" Emile said, chasing after Andre, "You didn't tell me what you meant by Phantom!" He didn't care if he was making a scene, but it seemed as if the man hadn't heard him.
Following a man that could easily be lost in a crowd was one thing, but pushing through the crowd without being rude was something else. He knew that a few people were glaring at his back but he didn't particularly care. He was just hoping that he made it into the hall in time to catch Andre. He didn't.
Instead, he did catch his eldest brother emerging from the hall closet with a bushing waiter. He sighed, he knew his brothers tendencies but was really hoping that he would restrain himself during such a big gathering. Emile was happy that it was only him that caught Henry; he didn't want his wife to have to make another excuse for the father of the child she was carrying.
The young waiter saw him and the blush deepened. Emile only smiled as kindly as he could before he dismissed him and turned to his brother.
"Henry, really, at a time like this? Malory isn't even here to cover for you. You should just be happy that it was me that saw you and not Philippe. You know he would tell mother in an instant," Emile tried to scold his brother as best he could, but being a good few centimeters shorter was not working in his advantage. Besides, his older brother only smirked at him. He sighed again, but then remembered Andre. The man was gone by now, but maybe Henry would know something.
"In exchange for not telling mother, could you please help me with something Henry?" Emile asked, trying to keep his brother from walking into the ball room, knowing he wouldn't have a chance to talk in there.
"Absolutely, what is it?"
"Do you anything about mother and a phantom?" Henry's expression turned very serious very quickly.
"No," He said sharply, "I don't. Let's get back to the party." Emile did not miss the grim line his brothers mouth had been set in.
888
The party had been a success and Emile was quite tired by the time he had gone to bed, but he woke up early the next morning, not forgetting about this phantom that, as of yet, not been explained.
Breakfast is normally a quiet thing after such a big affair and it seemed as if the other members of his family were perfectly willing for it to be that way. Unfortunately for them, Emile had something else in mind.
"Mother," He asked before the family could even say grace, "what do you have to do with a phantom?"
What little conversation had been happening stopped in an instant.
"That is not appropriate breakfast conversation, Emile," Christine answered, "Father, would you please say grace?" Raoul was about to begin as his wife requested, but his son wouldn't allow it.
"This has something to do with the opera house, doesn't it? Monsieur Andre wouldn't have been the one to bring it up if it wasn't," Emile persisted.
"Andre was here?" Christine asked, looking shocked.
"Emile, stop, mother will have bad nerves if you don't," Philippe warned. Henry was sending him a very hard look and even the staff had stopped what they were doing to watch. The boy's father was with the staff in just watching.
"That's it isn't it? Why will no one tell me? I am an adult now!" Christine stood, violently pushing her chair backward to address her son.
"You will be silent! This matter was over long ago and I want my sons to have no part of it now!" She sat in a huff and once again demanded her husband to say grace.
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"Thank you for coming with me, Malory," Emile said, helping his brother's wife out of the carriage. In front of them stood the marvelous Opera Garnier, all lit up for the show that evening.
"Um, it was my…uh…pleasure, Emile," English born and raised, Malory had some difficulties with her French and sometimes Emile swore her brother married her so that she wouldn't talk so much. Then again, Malory was quite clever and funny if you took the time to figure out what she is trying to say.
Walking inside, most people would have been greeted by the splendor and extravagance of the interior, it was obvious Malory did. Her eyes were as wide as her smile. But Emile was filled with dread. After a moment, he just chalked it up to openly disobeying his parents.
He wanted to allow himself to get swept away by the beauty of the place, it was his first time in there even though he had lived in Paris all his life, but the stupid feeling would just not go away.
The box that they were sharing was spacious and, before the show, they made a game to sit as far away from each other as possible. It was rather silly, but it was just simple fun that took Emile's mind off of his nagging mind. It just happened that when the show started, they were still far away from each other.
It was then that Emile got caught up and blown away. The opening number had his jaw stuck open in awe. Had his mother once been able to sing like that? He knew his and his brothers could not sing if their lives depended on it. He had no idea about his father.
During the second act, he and Malory sat comfortably next to each other again and were both enjoying the show when it suddenly got very cold in their box. Involuntarily, Emile shivered and wished he had dressed warmer. He tried to put his mind back to the show, but his dread feeling had come back, even stronger than before.
Malory seemed unaffected by the cold when he asked if she would like his jacket and she denied.
He wanted to ignore it and untied the knot that held his hair back to keep his neck warmer.
It didn't work and, not even moments later, the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
The air around him whispered in his ear "Viscount."