Disclaimer: The characters and plotline of the Phantom of the Opera on which this story is based are – to the best of my knowledge – the property of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. No infringement of copyright is intended nor is this story written for profit as I have the greatest respect for their work.
Chapter 2
Two weeks earlier
"It is completely out of the question! I will not allow it!"
Antoinette inwardly sighed. She had known the man pacing furiously before her for too long to have expected anything else from him. He finally realised that she was not saying anything in reply and stopped in front of her. She regarded him evenly.
"Will you at least allow me to explain?"
"Explain? Explain how you're going to invade my privacy? Tell me, Madame, is this protégé of yours prepared to live with a freak? Did you explain that to whoever it is?"
"Your privacy would not be invaded." He stood there almost glaring at her, waiting for more.
"My ward requires privacy and solitude as much as you. There is nowhere else on this campus that would allow that and you know it. You haven't used any part of that house above ground for years. If the key to the cellars were to go missing, then I fail to see how there would be a problem."
He paused a few moments, and then went on quietly:
"You know how I live."
"Yes."
"Madame, I am not in the habit of keeping hours that would be deemed as . . . socially acceptable." These last two words being laced with venom.
"You would not be the only one." She replied on a sigh. He looked up with interest.
"Well done, Madame. I have not been had my curiosity aroused in some time. Tell me, did you think your charge suitable to be my protégé perhaps?"
Antoinette's eyes snapped up to meet his, at first with horror, but then she looked as though she might actually be considering the idea.
"Perhaps." She congratulated herself. She had never seen him lost for words. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Is it so unreasonable? I know of no one else who lives for music."
"Are you speaking of me, or this child?"
"A few months ago I would have said both."
"And now?" He was shocked to see tears come to her eyes: Madame Giry who rarely displayed any other emotion aside from her annoyance at the incompetence of her 'ballerinas,' though she often commented that the term was applied loosely. Yet there was no mistake about it. The mark of sorrow was in her gaze.
"I will say only this. You are not the only one to know pain."
"If you will not say more, how am I to know whether or not to allow this?"
"You did not wish to have your privacy invaded. Can you not respect that in another? You of all people should know what it is to be viewed with prejudice." This time he really did glare at her, and in a way that would have sent grown men fleeing. Indeed it had done on many occasions.
"Madame-"
"Please. In all the years we have known one another I have not once asked you for something. I ask you to allow this now. Accept my judgement in this."
The help that he had received from her hands over the years hung unspoken in the air. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither ever would. Neither had to.
"You have my consent." Antoinette's face lit up – as much as such a stoic demeanour could. "However, if I find the arrangement to be disagreeable, you WILL find a reason as to why it can no longer continue. Is that understood?"
"Of course. Thank you, my dear." His heart warmed momentarily. Such endearments had rarely been bestowed on him, and though he never let on, he savoured each one.
"What can you tell me about your charge?"
"A music student, supposed to be majoring in voice. You needn't frown so. I know what your standards are like. I think even you would be able to appreciate her talent."
His head snapped up to attention.
"Her? You are sending a girl to live with me?"
"Yes."
"Antoinette, have you taken a complete leave of your senses!"
He rarely addressed her by her first name, and so she knew she was treading on thin ice.
"Certainly not. I know I can trust you to be a gentleman," she cut him off mid-protest "and since she will be under the impression that she is living alone, I again fail to see where the problem is."
"Madame, need I remind you that you are one of a VERY small number of women who have not fainted, screamed or run away at the sight of me."
"You would not see her."
"Just because I hide myself away out of habit does not mean that I will be prepared to do so in my own home!"
"I didn't say she would not see you, I said you would not see her."
"I fail to see the difference."
"I told you she needs privacy."
"So much so that she will shut herself away, even indoors?" She just looked at him, unable to speak though the answer was clear.
"Why?" He knew how pointless it was to ask. She had kept his secret long enough, she was not about to reveal others. She began to make her way out.
"You said she is supposed to be majoring in voice?"
"Yes. Her place is secure, but we don't how long that will last."
"And why is that?"
"She may not be able to meet all the requirements anymore."
"You are certain this is necessary." It wasn't a question. It was useless to question Giry. "Very well."
She nodded her thanks and left him to his own thoughts once more. Said thoughts were in turmoil. It was rare for Giry to seek him out, but he would never have expected this to be the reason for it. He had spent years living away from the world, with only a few exceptions. He was more of a ghost than a man. The barest trace of smile curved his mouth up a little on the left-hand side.
Yes, he knew the value of privacy, but whatever this girl's secret, he was sure to learn it in time. He knew Giry would not give up someone in her care easily. What would drive any college student to hide away like this? Especially a would-be performer.
I know what your standards are like. I think even you would be able to appreciate her talent.
An interesting verdict. And what possibilities would be presented if it proved true. Yes, he would keep an eye on this one. After all, he knew all that moved in his domain, and since one was about to do so on a greater level, he was not about to make an exception, now, was he?
