Chapter 7 –
After dinner, the Baron took Meg to see his extensive property. He had so many horses!
"What's the name of this one?" she asked, bewildered.
"Whichever name you wish. It's yours."
Meg's eyes got the size of saucers.
"Why the surprise?" asked Phillippe. "You knew I'd fallen for you from the first time I saw you."
He approached, slowly. Meg was clearly apprehensive. But their lips touched, their tongues entwined.
Meg broke the kiss.
"This is... This is all so sudden!"
"All right Meg. You're all right. Oh, gosh, you're trembling! I'm sorry Meg. We'll take it slow."
"No. How long do you intend to go on with that farce?"
Phillippe was puzzled.
"Excuse me?"
"I know what you want. You think I'm a cheap ballerina. You get it, then you disappear."
He started laughing. Loudly. Meg was insulted.
"Why, Meg... Don't you want it, too?"
She slapped him. Hard. Well, that was a surprise.
"All right, Meg. I didn't mean to offend you. I just feel that you are... My Destiny."
Fat drops of tears fell from Meg's eyes, wetting her cheeks. He touched one and licked.
"Yes, I want it." she said.
He guided her by the hand to the Great House, the Mansion.
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Every day now, Meg danced with all the dignity of her being. Everyone noticed the change on her after the dinner with the Baron.
Madame Giry was thoughtful. What had actually happened between the two of them? Well, she was no fool. She could guess. But even as a mother she knew she couldn't pry on Meg's personal affairs.
"You, Sorelli! Take Meg's place. Meg, you are the Prima-Ballerina from now on."
Sorelli was enraged. Meg couldn't care less anymore. She wouldn't accept being blackmailed. At least, not anymore.
When Phillippe made love to her, Meg felt some kind of energy take over. She felt beautiful, strong, powerful. And so much more she couldn't put into words. It could bring her to tears. She had never felt anything so... intense.
And behind all that, Meg felt there was a promise. She felt safe. Protected.
Loved.
"By a complete stranger."
"What are you smiling about, Meg?" snapped Madame Giry. Go to your place!"
The ballerina didn't even realize she had been thinking out loud. Great. Now La Sorelli would think she was happy with her demotion.
At least, that afternoon and a few others, things went smoothly.
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La Sorelli was bitterlly lying in her bed when someone knocked on the door.
"It can't be Cecille." she thought. "She always practices till late hours hoping to become good enough."
Opening the door, she saw an exquisite blonde man holding chocolates and champagne.
"Oh, Baron! I think you got the wrong room." she said with a nothing prude smile.
"Indeed. Can you give me directions? Where is Meg's room?"
La Sorelli shamelessly approached him.
"Why not stay here for a while? You can have a good time as well."
He imposed some respectable distance and said:
"I'll go find it myself. Thank you, Miss."
He left, without staring behind. While La Sorelli, more humiliated than ever, swore revenge.
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While Phillippe and Meg ate, talked, laughed and kissed, someone observed, distraught.
"So that's why you don't want me around anymore, Little Meg." Erik shed a tear. "I'm used to rejection, but it never ceases to hurt."
Why, Meg had been his friend, different than Chr... No, he couldn't think of it. But it was different. Why had she dropped him, and so sudden? It made no sense. Erik was an intelligent man. No, he was a genius. He should have realized before something was amiss.
He needed to talk to Meg. And he would do it.
He came back to his Lair and wrote a note. He was starting to think that that was what he did best. Which was great, given the circumstances.
As Erik didn't intend to spy on Meg, he waited for a long time. His timing was perfect, for she was asleep when he left the note by her side and got back to his Lair.
Meg seemed to have felt and woke up instantaneously.
"Oh, no... Erik..."
"We need to talk. Something is not right. You are hiding information. Come to my Lair as soon as you wake up. You don't need to go to the other room. There is a passage by your own mirror. Look for a button on the upper part to actionate the mechanism. This is not an invitation, Meg. Do come."
She understood. Understood very well. And knew exactly what to do.
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"But Madame Giry! You must believe me!" cried La Sorelli, interrupting Little Jammes ballet jam session. "There is a Phantom! And... and Meg talks to him!"
Madame Giry got interested.
"Meg?"
"Meg! And... And everyday!"
Madame Giry started pacing to and fro.
"What could my Meg want with The Phantom of the Opera?"
"Ah! So you do know about it!"
"Girl, don't be naïve! Everybody here knows about it!"
La Sorelli started chewing her lower lip.
"Maybe... If we investigate her room..." suggested La Sorelli.
"She's with Phillippe in there now." Madame Giry said it drily.
"No, he has already left. She is probably with the Phantom."
That was such a high gamble. But La Sorelli was desperate.
"Let's go." Madame Giry started dragging La Sorelli by the arm.
"Hey, what about me?" complained Little Jammes, completely aloof.
"Shut up, girl." snapped Madame Giry to a wide-eyed Cecille.
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And La Sorelli never felt such relief to see she had been right for the first time.
"What's this?" Madame Giry grabbed a small piece of paper. She read, appalled.
"Sorelli. Gather as many people as you can. This is a rescue operation."
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"Erik, I wanted to tell you. But I was so scared..."
Erik was in another dimension.
"Who would go to such lengths to protect me?"
"Erik! I'm talking to you!" demanded Meg.
When he looked at that cornsilk hair ballerina, dressed as the lady she would be someday, he felt the kindness he never had received. The other one... She gave him only pity.
He couldn't help but hold her. And she held him back.
Strange. It was as if he belonged there. And she belonged there. They were best friends and had a bond which would never be broken.
They heard a loud noise that destroyed the idylic moment. It was a multitude. People. Coming torwards them.
"But... how...?" asked Meg. "I told you so! We couldn't..."
"Listen to me, Little Meg. If I die today, you gave me everything I never had."
She was crying. When she realized, a pistols were pointed at him and she put herself right in front, to protect.
"Meg, get out of the way!" cried her mother, concerned.
"No! You all are not to hurt him! If he goes, I go together!"
"That's pathetic." mocked one of the crowd, echoing the thoughts of everyone. "I'll shoot both of them!"
"No! She's my daughter!"
But they shot, regardless. So many bullets. In the end, Meg had no idea of how she was still almost glued to Erik, both alive.
Until she heard a small moan.
"La Sorelli!" she shouted, holding the ballerina's hand. "What... what have you done?"
"I... I'm sorry Meg. Please, forgive me. F... find it in your... heart to forgive me."
"Sorelli..." Erik was confused and Meg was crying. Then, she saw a bloody paper in her hand.
The note.
"Oh, La Sorelli..." weeped Meg.
Madame Giry was inconsolable. The multitude dispersed.
"Mother... Go to your room. Too much damage was already done."
This time, mother obeyed daughter.
When everybody left, Meg kissed Erik's cheek and said:
"Either you get a job, or move out."
He was crying too. And knew what to do. Time to face the music.
La Sorelli's body floated on the lake for a long time. There were many flowers in Erik's Lair. While he sprinkled them in the water, Meg prayed.
Then, she disappeared.
And both of them hoped it had been towards Heaven.