Chapter 1
Her husband would be home soon and she dreaded it with every sip she took. She held onto the wall as she made her way to the half full bottle of wine. Filling her glass once again, she heard the front door slam, and her husband speaking to one of their servants. He sounded like he was in a good mood, but God knows if he would be when he saw she was dipping into his aged wine.
She made no attempt to hide the evidence as her husband stalked up the steps. She decided to play it up as she held the glass in her hand. He opened the tall door and was about to speak but was swiftly cut off by her words.
"Jacob," She purred in his ear, "did I ever tell you how happy I was to be your wife?"
"You are drunk, Madeline, leave me alone." He pushed her aside and walked past her to the washroom.
Drunk? Of course she was drunk! She was forced into this Godforsaken marriage by her old hag of a husband. He was thirty-two years older than she, and no doubt wanted her for something she was not. She had no intention of marrying at such a young age.
She was seventeen when she was forced to marry Jacob; he was then forty-nine. Even then she was disgusted at the age difference. She did not have much of a choice when it came to marriage. She longed to wait until she was in love with a man who would undoubtedly love her back, but instead her parent's estate relied on her marrying a man of wealth and power. Jacob was just that. He had power, of course, he was a marquis.
Although Madeline's family was of lower stature than the Marquis, he wanted a young, attractive bride. It was rumored around Paris that he was searching for a new young wife to replace his wife who had died during child birth twenty-eight years before. With this in mind, her parents sent her to various masquerades and balls, where she was only to keep her attention on him.
Her parents' consistence paid off and soon Madeline had married Jacob, despite her lack of feelings for him. She was only doing her duty to her parents by doing so.
She shrugged her shoulders. At least she would not need to touch him tonight or have his hands roaming all over her. Just the thought of that was enough to make her cringe.
Jacob came from the washroom pulling his long gray hair back into a neat ponytail with a ribbon. His chubby face was enhanced by the lack of hair in his face.
"Madeline, get dressed." He demanded when he saw she was clad in nothing but her petticoat. "Philippe will be here shortly. We are having supper and going over business plans. I would like you to join us, but I insist you act as a lady. Do not embarrass me, Maddy, or I swear to you, your life from here on out with be hell!"
"Well, perhaps, I do not want to join?" She smiled deviously.
"You will do as I say!" With that he left the room leaving her gulping down the last droplets of the red wine.
She slammed the goblet on the side table and made her way to the armoire. After opening it she decided on a burgundy silk dress with matching gloves. Surely this was not embarrassing to Jacob; it was one of his favorite dresses he had given her.
As Jacob made his way down to the den, he could feel a nervousness coming over his body. She was drunk, once again. He could not remember a time when she was the slightest bit sober, and even then, she was much too difficult. Shortly the Count and his younger brother would be here and his wife was as drunk as a beggar.
Genevieve would not have done this to him. She was the perfect wife, so perfect she would have never talked back in rebellion just to hear herself speak. When she spoke it was with purpose and poise. It was never like the childish ranting of Madeline. He felt more like her father than her husband. Perhaps he was too old to have taken such a young bride. Three years ago it seemed like a good idea, but now, his health has been drained from the stress Madeline has put him through.
It was important for the Marquis to have an heir, but at this point he had found it impossible for that to go on. He did have a child at one point in time, but it was the child who killed Genevieve. He felt that he could not go on raising a child with such a mark on the world. He had chosen never to talk of that incident as long as he should live.
The door bell chimed signaling his partner had arrived. They were there to discuss the purchase of his estate in Italy. The final propositions were going to be thought out at dinner.
The Count and Jacob had been friends since childhood and have made several business escapades together. They always worked so comfortable with one another.
"Ah, Philippe! Nice to see you my old friend!" Jacob shook his old friend's hand with vigor, plastering a smile upon his face.
Looking past the Count he saw the young Viscount, "Raoul! Look how you've grown! How nice to see you!"
"Thank you, Monsieur." Raoul calmly shook the Marquis' hand and nodded his head politely.
Jacob had not seen Raoul since he was a child, but he could tell he grew up well. He carried himself as a real gentleman should.
They proceeded to the dining room, with Raoul following close behind.
"So, Jacob, where is this young bride of yours? I would love to meet her." Philippe gave Jacob a sly smile.
"One moment please?" Jacob excused himself from his friend and his brother and began to speak with one of the female servants of the house.
He took her to the side and spoke quietly, "Will you fetch my wife, please? Make sure she is not that much of a wreck if you would? Thank you."
The servant nodded and scurried off to find Madeline. He joined up with his partners once more and sat with them at the table. The candles were lit and used as centerpieces in between two small bouquets of red roses. The silverware was solid gold and the plates were trimmed in gold.
"Only the best for my friends." Jacob smiled motioning toward the table setting.
"You sent for me, my love?" Madeline entered the room, her soft purr still ringing in her husband's ears.
"Ah, yes, my dear. These are our guests. Count Philippe De Chagny and his younger brother Raoul De Chagny. Come sit." Jacob had to hand it to her. She should have been a Prima Donna rather than his wife, because she could act better than any of them.
Once she spoke, Raoul's ears perked. His eyes never left her until she sat next to her husband. Even then, his eyes still lingered on her.
She noticed, of course, and decided that the evening would be much more entertaining if she played it up a bit more. She smiled politely at Raoul. He realized what he was doing. Being a well bred gentleman, he quickly tore his eyes away and attempted to listen to the conversation between the Marquis and his brother.
For one brief moment, Madeline thought she lost him. His interest seemed to turn, but he was not away for long. Soon his eyes made their way back to hers. They seemed to have spoken with out words. She smoothly drank from her glass and licked the remainder of the liquid from her lips. Her mouth turned into a small almost undetectable smirk making her eyes glow with fervor.
Raoul swallowed hard. What was this woman doing? Surely, she felt something for her husband. She was very young; there was no doubt about that. Raoul's face went red, his palms became clammy.
"Raoul is the Opera Populaire's new Patron. Isn't that right my brother?" The Marquis and Philippe stared at him intently.
Raoul looked up at then, but did not hear a word they had been saying. Swallowing hard, he asked, "What was the question?"
"You are the new Patron for the Opera Populaire, are you not, my brother?"
"Oh yes. Yes I am."
"Mm…the Opera Populaire. I was always fond of the arts, especially the opera." Madeline spoke low and smiled, "Perhaps one day I can join you for an opera? I have always been fond of Faust."
"It would be my pleasure," Raoul swallowed once again, "Of course if Monsieur Blanc does not mind?"
"Oh not at all my boy! I trust you will take good care of my wife. She is young she needs to experience some of the spectacles of life." Jacob trustingly.
Madeline fought with her subconscious not to make a fool of her self and her husband. Her sobriety was slowly coming back to her, but there was plenty of time she just felt like crawling into a tiny ball and falling into a deep sleep. But this did not keep her from playing her game. If anything, the game she was playing with Raoul was keeping her from feeling the least bit intoxicated.
After hours of long conversation that meant nothing to Madeline, it was time for her husband's guests to leave.
"Goodnight! It was a pleasure to meet you both!" She exclaimed rather loudly causing her husband to look at her with a small amount of dismay in his eyes.
Once in the carriage, the Vicomte settled and stared into the moonlight with a grin stretching from ear to ear. As the moonlight caressed his young brother's face, Philippe noticed the euphoria written upon it.
"She is a beautiful one, is she not? I daresay you should stay away from that one, she is nothing but trouble."
"Philippe, I was not thinking of her. She is but a new acquaintance I have come to acquire. I am a man of honor. I do not take what is not mine, brother." Raoul disregarded his brother's warning and began to out the small windows of the carriage.
Erik found himself in the wall of the chapel of the Opera House with little Christine on the other side of the trap door. Pacing back and forth he decided he would speak with her tonight. He would tell her everything. He would explain that he was not her long awaited Angel of Music, he would tell her of his love for her, and that he was just a mere monster of a man.
His hand ran through his black hair roughly in anticipation. He shook his head and stood at the trap door.
"Christine." His voice was like heaven in Christine's ears.
"Oh, Angel, I thought you would not come today. I needed some one to talk to. Madame Giry was disappointed in all of us today. Meg says she's just stressed, but she seems to be angry with only me."
Christine's childish problems caused Erik to abandon all thought of his confessions and he began to listen. It was the least he could do for her being that he lied to her for most of her years here.
"I am sure you did fine, Christine. We must start with your lessons."
"Oui, Angel. I shall do my best. I only want to please you."
How mindless has he made this girl? Of course she did not have much of a mind when she came to live here, but then again what child would, being that her father had died leaving her alone in the world. He was now her protector, her guardian, her Angel of Music.
His eyes clenched tightly closed, and he heart felt as if it might burst out of his chest as she began her first line of his favorite song, Think of Me.
He did not know how much longer he could put on this cruel façade. She was so innocent, so lovely; he could not dare take that away from her. Of course, he had plenty of time to think about what he would do about it, not tonight. Oh god, not tonight.