Chapter Two: Hidden Underneath
"You know, Christine, I wish I knew who to choose. They are all good prospects and good men. Sir Robert is a wealthy businessman and very successful, but much older than I; almost forty! Count Morrison is very young and handsome, but not as wealthy or as secure. And Lord Rochester is from a very agreeable and wealthy family, but is so un-handsome and unattractive. They all have agreeable and loath able qualities. Which do I choose?"
Meg poured another cup of tea for her friend, Christine, as she discussed her serious problems. Marriage was always a serious subject, but Meg, bless her, was very naïve and somewhat shallow. Her problems sometimes seemed trivial. Still, Christine was a faithful friend and listened dutifully.
"Oh, Meg, you don't have to choose right away. You still have time to get to know all of them, and no one is rushing you," Christine comforted.
"I know. Oh, Christine, it's so hard though. I envy you. You have no worries as of this moment because you are so lucky to already be betrothed."
Christine smiled. "Meg, your day will come soon."
"But I want to be married now."
"Well, Meg, I'm not even married."
"But you will be soon!"
Christine blushed. She could not believe in almost two weeks she would be married.
Meg leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Are you nervous?"
Christine frowned. "About what?"
"Christine…you know…"
Christine suddenly blushed brightly and laughed at her friend, as if brushing her off.
"Oh, Meg, please."
"Christine, it's serious."
"Meg, it's nothing to concern you."
"I know, but aren't you the least bit worried…?"
Christine tried to be nonchalant, but could not even hide the blush from her cheeks. She was a little nervous, a little shy. She had never been formally told what to do, although Meg had filled her in on the logistics. Still, she was only seventeen, and still worried. She loved Raoul and she trusted him, but even the idea of becoming a…woman scared her.
"At least you know Raoul loves you deeply and would never hurt you," Meg commented, breaking Christine's thoughts.
"Yes, that is true. I thank God I will be with my husband, whom I love and trust and loves me. It would be terrible to be married to a complete stranger and then made their prize."
A week had passed for Raoul and with it more despair. His investments from previous endeavors a few years ago had crumbled as if part of a string of bad luck. And after paying numerous debts, he still had more and had to see Lord Richmond again for loans. He had no extra money to make new investments, so he went to other friends and asked for more loans. More loans, more debts; Raoul was falling farther and farther than he had been.
The wedding was growing closer every day and he still hadn't told Christine, who was in the throes of excitement and bliss. He told himself he hadn't told her because he didn't want to disrupt his happiness, but he knew the real reason. He knew he was just afraid of telling her. He felt ashamed for being scared, but he couldn't summon himself to tell her. He would wait, wait until she was ready, and they were married.
Lord Erik Rochford looked down at the small parchment of paper on his desk.
Rochford,
Today. One o'clock. The Walchinston Bank.
Erik nodded and quickly went to his carriage.
"Go," he commanded to the driver and they quickly set off toward the Walchinston Bank.
The carriage arrived quickly in front of the Walchinston Bank, on the parallel road. It was far too late in the night to be going to the bank. Everyone had left, no one worked this late. People usually did not meet late at night, under the cover of darkness, unless they were hiding and wanted to keep something secret. So what was Viscount Raoul de Chagny hiding?
Lord Rochford watched stealth fully from his carriage, looking out through the small slit of the window curtain. Viscount de Chagny looked nervous and skittish and tried, unsuccessfully, to look comfortable and natural in the dark. When another figure came out of the corner and met with the Viscount, he relaxed more easily. Lord Rochford could see the face of the other man after a fleeting moment. It was William Burroughs, the president of the Walchinston Bank; a wealthy, distinguishable man. Why was Burroughs sneaking into his bank?
"Back to the house," Rochford growled. "And send a message to William Burroughs. I'd like to meet him for lunch tomorrow."
Christine woke suddenly from tumultuous sleep, perspiring and anxious. She had had another nightmare, one involving the ghost who haunted her and watched her from the shadows. He was always there, with those haunting eyes and steel glare. He would grab her and take her into darkness and she would try to cry out and scream. But his hold was too strong and he refused to let go. It was a recurring dream, happening almost every night. It always ended the same and she would wake up, covered in sweat, her heart beating out of paralyzing fear.
She felt around for the safety of her bed in her dark room. The moon shone brightly outside in a cloudless night sky. She sighed in relief, knowing she was in her own bed, safe. She felt coolness in the room though and tried to get deeper under her covers where she was warm. But with the breeze came the cry of the howling wind and Christine knew it was her window. She got up and went over to close it, but she froze in front of it. A red rose, a beautiful red rose sat on her windowsill.
Her mind was reeling. Who had put that red rose on her windowsill? Had someone gotten into her room through the window? Was it Raoul? Was there someone else? She looked around her room for the sign that someone was still in her room, but there was no one there.
"I must say, Rochford, I was very surprised when I received your message. You have never been very social or involved with the affairs of society," Mr. William Burroughs said to Lord Rochford as he sat in the lord's office and marveled at the wealthy spectacle that was Rochford Manor.
Lord Rochford smiled as he poured a cup of wine for Mr. Burroughs.
"I am still a little confused as to why you invited me here." Burroughs felt a little uncomfortable; aware of Rochford's reputation and all. He had an unnerving gaze.
"I understand you are confused, and that you have doubts as to why I asked you here. I can assure you, however, that this meeting is innocent and only a means of helping a common friend," Lord Rochford growled.
Burroughs was suddenly interested.
"I have reason to believe that you have been having private visits with the Viscount de Chagny."
Burroughs shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
"My lord, the Viscount and I are very close friends…"
"But these visits seem more than just friendly gatherings," Rochford interrupted, his eyes staying on Burroughs. "Especially when the meetings are done in private at night?"
Burroughs was unsuccessful in his attempt to remain unfettered.
"How do you know…?"
"I have my ways."
"The Viscount asked me to tell no one, to be completely silent. It is not my business to tell."
Rochford smiled amusedly and nodded. He rummaged through his desk and threw an envelope in front of Mr. Burroughs. Hesitantly, Mr. Burroughs took the envelope and looked through it. Suddenly he rethought his promise to the Viscount de Chagny.
"What do you know about the Viscount de Chagny?"
Burroughs tucked the envelope into his coat pocket.
"The Viscount de Chagny has a brother, as you know. He is a wild and reckless youth and has squandered all of his inheritance, and now Raoul's as well. His brother has taken all of his money. He's destitute. And he has been going to his friends, asking for loans. The night we met at the bank he was asking for a 100,000 loan."
Rochford sat back and let the news seep in. Raoul de Chagny was penniless. Poor. Destitute.
"Does his fiancé know?" Rochford spoke lowly.
Burroughs furrowed his brow in confusion. "No. He has not told her yet."
Ah, yes, Rochford thought to himself. He's waiting until after they're married.
"Do you know when the Viscount is to marry the Lady Daae?"
Burroughs felt wary at Lord Rochford's question. What did this have to do with the Viscount's financial situation?
"I believe the wedding is a week from Sunday."
A little over a week. Plenty of time.