Chaos erupted. Patrons scrambled for the doors, cast members rushed for the back entrances, and quite a few women screamed. Rachel trampled over the feet of several people in her attempt to reach the door. Later in the safety of the carriage, she would grimace in shame at her actions. How had such a lowly girl managed to frighten her so badly? She should have been above the whole matter, not running like a scared kitten.

She turned to smooth this over with Christophe, only to find that he was not in the carriage. She looked out the window to prepare to order the driver back to the opera house when she saw her mansion out front. She was already home, without her prized pet. Rachel would have ordered for the carriage to turn around, except for the fact that there was another carriage out front.

Slowly, Rachel walked back into her sizeable mansion, dreading what the appearance of that second carriage was sure to bring. When the butler walked up to take her coat and informed her of the return of her husband, she knew for certain what she would have to do.

Back at the opera house, the worst of the confusion had cleared, with most of the ball goers gone through one of the many exits. Those left were headed for the same doors, except one. Christophe was standing in the middle of the ballroom, exactly where he'd been before pandemonium broke. He was staring at the ring he'd picked up from the floor, the wedding ring Erika had thrown at him. He couldn't take his eyes off the small circle. What had he done?

He was snapped out of his reverie when Mark grabbed him and whispered "Come on." He steered his shocked friend out of the ballroom, down a corridor to backstage, and opened a hatch in the floor that they used for storing props and set pieces that popped up from below the stage. He gestured down the hatch and said to Christophe, "Go on. Find her."

Christophe looked at his friend in confusion and a little fear. "How do you know about her?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, you have to get to her. There's no telling what she'll do in that state." He hurried Christophe through the trap door. Just before he closed the hatch, he whispered, "You're not the only one who prays in the chapel." With those words, he closed the hatch and ran to the dorms.

Christophe was forced to push aside his confusion about Mark for the moment. Something huge was going on with Erika and he had to find out what before damage was done. If it was something he could rectify, he would. God, please let this be a misunderstanding. Please let me find her, he prayed as he descended into the catacombs of the Opera Popular.

It took the better part of two hours, but he finally found the corridor that led to the lake. The boat was gone, a fact that worried him until he saw that the water was only waist high. The walls were ornate, and the carvings acted like signposts, so finding the way wasn't hard. When he finally arrived at Erika's home, he was soaked all the way to his shoulders and shivering, but from cold or from fear he couldn't tell.

It took a while for him to find her. She wasn't in the small kitchen, bathroom, or any of her workrooms or music rooms. The instruments were untouched, lying in their proper places. It looked like she hadn't come back here. But the boat was here, so she had to be! Then he remembered the one other room.

He pulled back the curtain and found her kneeling at the side of their marriage bed, stroking the coverlet. She was still in her black ball dress, but somehow she'd removed the feathers, along with the sword and belt. When he looked at her hands stroking the smooth fabric of the bed, he noticed that the area by her head was wet. How much pain had he inflicted on her? Then she spoke.

"We were supposed to make love in this bed. It was the one thing I wanted to be perfect. That's why I spent hours designing it. But I suppose it doesn't really compare to a Countess's bed."

Christophe couldn't stand the pain in her voice. He knelt down beside her and pulled her into his arms so that her back was pressed against his chest. "A stable stall would be sweeter than all the beds in the world as long as you were in it."

He bent down to kiss her neck, but she pulled away. Now her eyes flashed as he had a vision of dancing black flames behind her again. "Three months. Three months without any word from you, while I slaved over the opera that will make you shine, and the first time I see you again, you're with her. How long did it take for you to remove your ring before you jumped into her bed?"

He shrank from her as the fire of her anger blazed, but that last accusation sparked in his own heart. "I never did that! And I never will! You have no idea how hard it's been to fend her off! How do you think I felt when I went to the chapel and you weren't there?" He was heating up now, as he saw her expression change from anger to horrified realization. "I know you wanted to write something beautiful, but could you have taken ten minutes to come talk with me just one night?"

He sat down on the bed and stared up at her. "I was not unfaithful to you. I have given her nothing you did not have first. But it was hard when I missed you so much. Please," and he lifted up the ring that had not left his hands since he picked it up off the ballroom floor. "Please put this back on."

She sat down on the bed next to him, all the fire gone from her now. She kissed him on the cheek and murmured in his ear, "I'm sorry I left you alone. I tried to remember to meet you, but I was so immersed in the work that by the time I remembered, it was already too late and you had gone to bed. The next day I would try again, but there was always something that needed work, like the costume details and the violin parts. But now that's done." She took his face in her hands and kissed him, deeply and passionately.

He leaned into the kiss and let her warmth mingle with his. When they finally had to break apart for air, he said, "Perhaps I should spend the night here. You are my wife, after all, and I have had enough of dodging countesses for a lifetime."

She laced her fingers together behind his neck and smiled. "You will be spending more than one night here, my love."

That night, they consummated their marriage, and when Christophe returned to his work in the opera house, it was with a determination and joy none had ever seen in him before. He would be the best husband he could. And that meant getting out from under Rachel's thumb.

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