Erik moved to open the mirror so he could take the girl. She was making this so ridiculously easy. Even when he took Christine during Don Juan Triumphant, he had to spend a few days planning to make sure everything went off without a hitch. But here was Amelia, alone and vulnerable, where no one knew where she was, and to top it all off, she was completely unaware of his presence.
He could just imagine the Vicomte's face when he learned that his sister was missing. Erik knew he would come here and fall straight into his trap. This wasn't just about Christine anymore. This was personal. Erik wanted Raoul de Chagny to suffer for taking his angel away from him, and by killing the Vicomte, he would punish Christine for all the pain and humiliation she had put him through when she had the audacity to rip his mask off in front of all of Paris.
Just before he hit the lever, Erik saw the doorknob turn. He yanked his hand away from the switch as though it had burned him. He hissed in displeasure as the door opened, revealing none other than Meg Giry. "I thought I heard someone in here," the blonde said brightly. "What happened?"
"Thank you mademoiselle," Amelia said with a sigh of relief. "I was on my way back to the theater, when I...I must have taken a wrong turn, and then I somehow managed to lock myself in." Erik raised an eyebrow. Why would she lie about wandering into a dressing room? She hadn't really gotten lost.
Meg's eyes widened. "Oh, you must be Madame Barineau. You and your husband are the new patrons right?" Amelia nodded. "I'm Meg Giry," she said with a curtsy. "My mother is the ballet mistress, and I'm the prima ballerina here."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Giry."
An awkward silence descended on the two. "Well, I'm sure they're looking for you," Meg finally said. "I'll show you the way back."
Erik let out a low growl. He had been so close. For a moment, he wondered if Madame Giry sent her, but he shook it aside. It didn't really matter. It looked like Amelia was going to be here for a long time, and while he doubted he would have an opportunity this ideal again, now he could take his time to construct the perfect kidnapping.
"Amelia Marie de Chagny, what on earth do you think you're doing?" her mother shrieked.
A ten year old Mia glanced over at her younger brother and Christine before looking back at her mother guiltily. "Exploring," she whispered.
"Get over here this instant!" Mia trudged over, her head hung low. Her mother marched her into the parlor where her father was waiting for them. "Sit." Mia reluctantly obeyed.
"Where was she this time?" her father asked with exasperation.
"Off with Raoul and that Daaé girl again. I told you she was a bad influence on them!"
"We were just exploring," Mia protested.
"Young ladies do not go exploring," her mother snapped. She turned to her husband. "As good of a musician as Gustave is, I don't think we should allow him or his daughter near the children. He fills their heads with stories and ideas, and that girl's not going to go anywhere in life."
"I think Raoul is fine," her father said. "He's only six, still a boy, plenty young enough to still be playing, and there's no one else around his age. But I agree that Amelia is getting too unruly."
"But Papa," she started.
"No buts," he cut her off sternly. "It's time you grew up Mia. You can't spend your days running around and playing like a child. You're a young lady now and you need to act like it!"
"There's a boarding school just outside of Paris that specializes in cases like this, or so I'm told," her mother said thoughtfully. "Perhaps it isn't too late to enroll her there."
"No!" Mia screamed. "I'll be good! I promise I'll be good." Tears began to stream down her face. "Please don't send me away, Mama. I'll be good!"
"This exactly is the type of behavior we're talking about. Young ladies do not snivel or whine like children. I'll send word immediately to see if there's still room for her there."
"Please don't Mama," she sobbed. "I'll do whatever you want, just please don't send me away."
"ËNOUGH!" her father shouted. "Control yourself Amelia. A woman of your stature needs to be able to control her emotions. Only let others see what you want them to see. You should always appear calm and in control, no matter what the situation. Conceal your emotions, never allow yourself to feel. And above all things, you have to be obedient, whether you like it or not. Do you understand?"
Mia nodded, completely defeated. "Yes Papa," she sniffed.
"Where on earth have you been?" Gaston demanded as Meg led Mia back into the theater. "Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?"
"I know. I'm sorry." She bit the inside of her cheek. Mia knew she couldn't tell Gaston that she had been exploring. After all, it was something only children did. "I took a wrong turn and managed to accidentally lock myself in a dressing room."
"How on earth did you manage to do that?"
"It was an accident," she sighed. "This place is just so big, I got lost. Luckily Miss Giry here was nearby and was able to help me."
"Thank you Miss Giry," Gaston said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders rather possessively. "Heaven only knows how long it would have taken me to find her. Amelia would lose her own head if it weren't attached to her."
Meg laughed. "Don't worry about it. It was my pleasure to help." She curtsied and headed back towards the ballet dormitories.
Gaston turned to Mia. "How on earth did you manage to get lost?"
"I think I turned right when I should've gone left," she lied. "There are just so many corridors; it's easy to get turned around here."
"Then next time you should stay with me like you're supposed to," he snapped. "Honestly, you shouldn't be going anywhere unaccompanied."
Mia bit back a sharp response. She had been taught to always be obedient, even when she didn't like it. "If that's what you think, dear."
"Of course that's what I think." Gaston glanced over her. "The Masquerade for the grand reopening is in less than a month. You're expected to have a costume."
"I'll speak to the tailor immediately," Mia said with a sigh.
Within the hour, Mia was at her favorite dressmaker's shop being measured for a new gown. "What color were you thinking Madame?" the dressmaker asked as she wrote down a few measurements.
"Blue," Mia replied instantly. It was Gaston's favorite color. Hopefully it would make him happy. "I haven't settled on a specific shade yet though."
"If you're interested Madame, I just received a shipment of a beautiful royal blue silk that would complement your skin tone perfectly. You could be the belle of the ball."
"That sounds wonderful," Mia said distantly.
"Might I ask what this is for?"
"The grand reopening of the Opera Populaire," she answered. "They're hosting a Masquerade ball to celebrate."
"The Populaire?" the seamstress gasped. "But Madame isn't your brother…?"
"Yes," she sighed. "The Vicomte de Chagny is my little brother."
"Aren't you afraid...?"
"No," Mia replied. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"But I read in the papers…"
"The papers have to sell," Mia snapped. "That means they have to sensationalize their stories, either through exaggeration or just plain fiction! I have been there myself and there is nothing to fear. This so-called 'Phantom' is nothing more than a superstition that some reporter blew out of proportion. I'm not afraid of anything in that theater!"