Chapter 14

The evening was cool as I walked towards the Trident Ballroom. Drifting strains of classical music could be heard from inside. A steward bows and smartly opened the door for me.

"Good evening, Madame…"

Only a few minutes ago, I was sitting in my cabin, dressed in the shimmery white gown that Clara had lent me, nervously rolling the white gloves in my hands. I didn't want to go as I knew that people would inquire about my 'non-existent' husband. And yet, if I didn't, Clara would be deeply disappointed and Inspector Henri would start prowling around the ship, asking questions and making notes. It was only a question of time before he pieced together the mystery and unearthed the truth about me. My sense of unease increased steadily.

It is only a performance…

The little voice in my head told me and I knew I had to go on. Playing the role smoothly, I nodded to the steward and stepped in. My breath was taken away by the splendor spread out before me. Overhead was the enormous blue glass dome, with a crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down towards the ballroom proper was the Grand Staircase, lined with red carpeting. And the people: the women in their floor-length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewelry... the gentlemen in evening attire, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking quietly. How was I going to do this alone?

Presently, a voice behind me said, "Why look so glum, Meg?"

My head swiveled to Erik as he came and stood beside me. He looked dashing in his black-tie outfit, right down to his pearl cufflinks. His half- mask gleamed as he surveyed the ballroom.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm here because you are here…Come, my dear. Let's give them something to talk about, shall we?" he said calmly, offering his gloved hand to me. Erik chose to expose himself in such a brazen manner that I was visibly alarmed – it reminded me of a time not too long ago where he had chosen to reveal himself to the public only to be betrayed by the love of his life. It was too late now – I had become the unwilling supporting actor in this theatrical piece of his, not daring to contemplate how it would all end.

I extended my hand and he took it, kissing the back of my fingers. My cheeks flamed, I couldn't take my eyes off him as he boldly guided me down the staircase. A hush fell in the ballroom as we descended the stairs. Several men nodded a perfunctory greeting and Erik nodded back, keeping it simple. Some of the women gasped when they saw the mask. Erik ignored their stares and carried on with an air of arrogance and disdain. We walked to the dance floor.

"May I have this dance?" Erik said as he turned to me.

"Of course," I managed with a shy smile.

He opened his arms and I gracefully stepped into them. We danced to the sweeping strains of the waltz, our bodies close, his gloved hand holding tightly to mine while the other on the small of my back. Erik was an excellent dancer - I began to wonder how he knew how to dance as he had always been alone. It was until later that I realized Erik had been surveying the surroundings and the people. He was only using the dance as a guise. As we swirled around the floor, he leaned in close, pointing out several nobles, bankers, artists and merchants. I was astonished to how well he knew them.

"I've had the pleasure of observing some of the passengers on board this ship in my free time," Erik explained. "Most of them are harmless…"

The way he spoke of humans in general was very unsettling. It was as though he did not include himself within the species at all. A shiver passed through my body as I wondered what he thought of me.

Then, I spotted Madame Morgan and Inspector Henri seated in a corner of the room.

"That's Inspector Henri of the French police," I whispered to Erik a warning and felt his arm stiffen around my waist.

"Ah, I see you have met him…We should go over and say hello to our new friends," he said tightly.

Inspector Henri's eyes widened in surprise as Clara came forward to greet us. "Meg, I'm so glad you made it… You look absolutely stunning!" she beamed but she was quite at a loss for words when she saw Erik.

"Madame Morgan… Inspector Henri… this is my husband Erik, Baron d'Castellot-Barbezac," I introduced them, feeling terribly awkward. Erik's visible eyebrow arched in bemusement at the term I used.

"It is indeed a pleasure, Madame Morgan… Inspector Henri," he said courteously. "Please call me, Erik."

The older woman was noticeably charmed as she asked us to share the dining table with them. Dinner was soon served – an impressive menu of seafood, ducks, pigeons, turkey, veal, soups and salads, topped off with chocolate and ice cream for dessert.

"I've never seen you on board since we departed from Le Havre," said Jacques, scooping a spoonful of soup. "It's as if you appeared out of thin air…"

"This is a big ship, Inspector," Erik pointed out. "Besides, my wife was unwell. She is unaccustomed to the sea… I was by her side."

"Of course." Jacques seemed satisfied with the answer.

"I hope you are feeling much better now, Meg," said Clara sympathetically.

"Yes, very much… thank you," I replied as Clara's husband, Charles joined us at the table.

"I'm curious as to how you came to wear a mask," he noted.

"An unfortunate riding accident on my estate," Erik replied. "I sustained minor facial injuries and was advised by my doctor to wear a mask for a few weeks to prevent an infection."

"Was that the way of it?" Jacques asked, turning to me.

I merely affirmed it with a nod.

"My wife was very worried about my condition but I assured her that it would heal soon," added Erik as he reached out his hand across the table and placed it over mine in a gesture of intimacy. He turned his intense gaze to me as he said, "She will eventually have her handsome husband back."

Going along with the game, I smiled back affectionately.

"So what is your occupation, Erik, apart from riding?"

Jacques persistent questioning caused Erik much irritation as he downed his red wine a little too quickly. I could hear the annoyance in Erik's voice as he reigned in his explosive temper.

"If you must know, I am a contractor, Inspector. The end of the American Revolution sparked an increase in construction contracts in the States. In fact, I'm on my way there to oversee my investments and at the same time, bringing my wife for a visit…"

"Jacques, you should leave the 'men talk' to the Smoking Room," Clara admonished gently.

"Of course, Clara… Perhaps, you will be interested to hear about the mystery of the Phantom of the Opera, a masked man and a fire that was never fully explained…"

Jacques was staring at Erik as if he was baiting him for some kind of reaction. But Erik was no fool - he had seen through the ruse that Jacques had set for him.

"Ooh, pray tell us!" exclaimed Clara, pressing a hand to her chest. "I love a mysterious tale…"

"Yes, do tell us," echoed Erik.

Jacques nodded grimly as he proceeded with his version of the story. "It all began with the death of one Joseph Buquet. He was found in the third cellar, hanging between a farm-house and a scene from the Roi De Lahore…"

As Jacques expounded his theory about a Phantom and the connection to the mysterious and dramatic kidnapping of Christine Daae, the disappearance of the Vicomte de Chagny and the death of his elder brother, Count Philippe, whose body was found on the bank of the lake that exists in the lower cellars of the Opera on the Rue-Scribe side. My heart was pounding loudly as I squirmed in my seat. Jacques' version of the story was too close for comfort.

"I believe that the Phantom was not a ghost but of flesh and blood. Eye witnesses said that he was extraordinarily thin. His eyes were so deep that you could hardly see the fixed pupils. You just see two big black holes, as in a dead man's skull. His skin, stretched across his bones like a drumhead, is not white, but a nasty decaying yellow. He did not have a nose and all the hair he has is three or four long dark locks on his forehead and behind his ears," he concluded with quiet certainty.

"Surely, this Phantom could be a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge," offered Erik, as he listened intently to the inspector's theories. His expression was calm and unaffected, almost as if he was enjoying the situation. I did not find this the least bit amusing.

"We have evidence that points to the contrary, Erik. There was a person living underneath the Opera House… we found his hiding place, a magnificent piece of architecture, sadly now in ruins but it all points to the fact that the Phantom was not a ghost."

"Do you know where he could be now?" Monsieur Morgan asked.

"Ah, I wish I knew. When digging in the substructure of the Opera, the workmen laid bare a corpse thought to be a victim of the Commune but no one can be sure if he is still alive," replied Jacques.

"This is indeed a compelling story, Jacques," said Clara.

"Well, it is late and we should retire to our cabin. Good night, Clara… Jacques," Erik said, rising from his seat. I quickly followed.

As we made our way back to the cabin, Erik murmured to me, "Inspector Henri has been following the case closely. I must admit that he has a very vivid description of me!"

I was aghast. "Do you think he knows?"

"I think he has his suspicions…"

My heart was filled with dread. "I'm… I'm… frightened."

"I will take care of it…"

"What do you mean?" I asked uneasily. "Erik, please promise me that you will not harm him."

He did not speak. I dared not think of what he would do to Jacques Henri but these killings must stop!

"If not on your conscience, then let it be mine," I told him quietly, pressing home the point.

"If you wish…"

I nodded, satisfied that he would not cast aside lightly the pledge he had made to me. Still I worried over Jacques' persistent questioning as it could potentially set off Erik's explosive temper. I prayed that day would never come.

As we reached my cabin, I turned to Erik and said, "It is still very hard for me to accept that Maman is gone…sometimes I feel… I feel like she is still here with me…"

Erik looked down and sighed. "She will always be in your heart… in your dreams."

There was a long pause. It wasn't until the words were out that I realized I felt a kindred spirit with him – we both lost the ones we loved. Yes, Maman would always be in my heart just as Christine would always be in his…

"So what happens now?" I asked in unthinking absence.

"We have to keep up appearances until we reach New York…" he replied and bowed before leaving. "Good night, Meg."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Ribbons of sunlight had filtered through the window above me, illuminating my cabin – it was morning. I blinked a few times before stretching out on my bed. It was time I returned the dress to Madame Morgan, I decided as I got up. To my surprise, Clara insisted that I kept it. "My niece probably has a gown for her debutante ball already," she said. "I noticed how your husband kept staring at you the whole evening…"

He is not my husband! I wanted to protest but I clamped my mouth and forced a smile instead.

We were greeted by a large crowd that had gathered there and right in the middle of the circle was Erik – he was regaling them with stories of his travels to exotic lands and adventures. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black trousers and boots, looking relaxed and enjoying the moment. I was mesmerized by the transformation of a brooding and violent man to this charming persona… I had to admit he had a certain flair for the dramatics.

As if he sensed my presence, Erik turned and stared at me in silence. His eyes were sad and full of self loathing. The baffled crowd followed his gaze as he left his seat at the table and walked towards us in a slow and determined manner.

"My dear, I trust you are well rested last night," he said to me in a low voice as we stood face to face.

"Yes, I had a good rest," I replied, unnerved by all the attention we were getting. From the corner of my vision, I saw Inspector Henri watching us silently.

"Hungry?"

I nodded as the three of us sat down under a shady veranda for breakfast. All seemed so normal that it terrified me – to be seated next to Erik in public and in broad daylight, conversing about the weather and frivolous pursuits. Erik had a wide knowledge of the ways of the world despite living underground for a long time. I found myself wondering about his past, what horrors he had endured because of that face and the mask that became his shield from the cruel stares.

"A treasure hunt!" declared Clara loudly, interrupting my thoughts. "An excellent idea to cure the boredom - I will suggest this to the Captain and pass the word around. We shall meet here again at three o'clock!"

After Clara had departed to organize her treasure hunt and the group had dispersed, Jacques Henri came to our table and sat down. "You should join the men in the Smoking Room, Erik," he said. "A few of my friends have expressed interest in your line of work and would like to know more about it."

"I build glorified houses for fat, complacent businessmen and their even fatter and more complacent wives," he told Jacques bluntly. "What do you suppose they would possibly want to know?"

My hand flew to my mouth to suppress a gasp. I thought the inspector would be angry by the rebuff but he merely laughed. "You have a very queer sense of humor, Erik. I like that," he said and went on his way.

"The last thing you want is to have that man as your enemy!" I almost screamed at Erik.

"Meg, my dear," he said in a wickedly mocking tone. "I'm only trying to liven up an otherwise boring and uneventful voyage."

I was outraged by his brazen impudence. "If he finds out who we are, it will be end for both of us!" I snapped.

"Oh, there is no need to overreact over a little experiment of mine," he said pleasantly, shrugging off my concerns.

"Insist on this mad experiment if you must but please do it in my absence," I said irritably as I stood up from the table and walked away.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The next few days were thankfully uneventful - we kept up appearances whenever needed to convince the others that we were married. Erik played the part of the doting husband perfectly, if not for his terrible past, I could have believed, almost believed that he could be a gentle, patient and loving man. Every night we parted ways at the door of my cabin, Erik would disappear into the night like a ghost. I gazed into the darkness wondering what he did, where he went during those hours.

"As you enter the port of New York, you will see the Statue de la Liberté, a lovely lady wearing a stola, a radiant crown and sandals, trampling a broken chain, carrying a torch in her raised right hand and a tabula ansata, where the date of the American Declaration of Independence is inscribed, in her left arm. She was a gift from France. I had had the opportunity to witness the design and building of this great monument in Paris. She was engineered to withstand heavy winds… she is now a functioning lighthouse, I hear…"

We were walking back to my cabin after dinner with the Morgans one evening and Erik was in a whimsical mood. Monsieur Morgan had brought up the topic of monuments, engineering feats like the Eiffel Tower which defied the imagination. The builder, Gustave Eiffel was also instrument in the building of the said Statue of Liberty which Erik had just described in detail.

"Then I will certainly not miss it," I said dreamily as Erik's voice conjured up visions of a goddess in all her glory, a beacon for all.

"WE will not miss it," he gently corrected. "If the ship continues its present course, we will see her rising like a star from the ship's bow."

My eyes followed his outstretched hand, almost tipping over the rails.

"Careful Meg..."

Erik's other hand came round my waist, holding me steady as our faces nearly touched. The warm winds were blowing wildly about us. Sensing that I was looking at him, Erik turned his eyes to me. My heart skipped a beat as I could have sworn there was something more in those enigmatic golden eyes than he would care to admit. All I had to do was to lean in and our lips would touch, if I dared to, surrendering to him, to the emotion. Suddenly, there was a crude shout from a group of drunken guests and we jerked apart.

"I think…I think I should retire to my room now," I said in a trembling voice.

"Yes, you should. I bid you good night," he replied with a distant manner.

"Good night, Erik."

I turned away in a daze and made my way back to my cabin. I must be hallucinating - there could be no happy endings if I were to pursue Erik because he remained true to Christine. He could never love me. What he felt for me now was only the same angry pity he experienced for anything vulnerable and damaged. No, I did not seriously believe he was falling in love with me. What was I thinking?

With only two more days left on our journey, the ship was abuzz with news that a body had been found in the meat locker, hung up neatly like a coat on a peg. According to the gossip, the man was a member of the crew and had been dead for some time. My heart gave a sickening lurch of fear as I considered who the killer might be. Rumors were rife that there was a vengeful ghost on this ship. Everyone had been told to return to their cabins by the ship's captain until this matter had been solved. Jacques Henri took it upon himself to investigate the incident and started questioning all the passengers and crew.

Erik hadn't shown up at my cabin the entire day and I was sick with horror as I paced the cabin. In the late afternoon, someone rapped the door of my cabin. Erik had showed up without an explanation of his whereabouts or what he had done. He just came in and sat down on the chair uninvited.

"You're not even going to bother to deny it, are you?" I said, outraged at his silence.

"I don't know what you are referring to," he replied.

"The whole ship is talking about the death of a crewman… don't you dare pretend that you didn't hear it!"

"What is the point in me denying anything? I can see that you've already tried and condemned me…"

"I want to hear it from you!"

"If you wish—"

He then proceeded to tell me the incident with calm and dispassion – the man had been drunk that night and he had the misfortune of encountering Erik unmasked. The man was so terrified that he fell to his death as he tried to escape. Erik had wanted to dispose of the dead man by throwing him overboard but he could not risk being seen so he kept the corpse in the meat locker. When he had finished his grim confession, I sat down on the chair opposite him, staring on the floor. It was an accident, he had said.

As I didn't know the circumstances of the man's death, I had no cause to doubt his word and yet…

"Are you going to tell Inspector Henri?" he demanded uncertainly.

Was I too naïve to perceive just how dangerous he really was? Would I live long enough to do it?

My silence was proof of my doubts as he stared at me in despair. "You honestly think I killed him?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know… I don't know what to think, Erik! Not anymore…"

He turned his back on me. "Then there is nothing more to say…"

Erik rose slowly signaling his intention of leaving. As he opened the door, Jacques Henri was standing outside with a little notebook in his hand. "Ah, Erik … just the person I want to see," he said with a wide smile.

"Jacques, it is indeed a surprise!" Erik said cordially. "Please come in..."

All three of us sat down as I served tea in the small chat area.

"I wanted to ask you and your wife a few questions on the night of the unfortunate death of Monsieur Van Pell," he explained. "As you know by now, he was found dead in the ship's meat locker. Apparently, he was a stowaway, not one of the crew. We only found out his name when we searched his belongings."

"Do you have any suspects yet?" I asked.

"None..."

"How did he die?" Erik leaned forward, listening with interest. I could see his bony hands gripping the arms of the chair, the urge to kill held back by a tenuous promise. Inspector Henri was oblivious to how close he was to death that evening.

"My preliminary autopsy suggests that he had fallen to his death… his neck was broken," Jacques revealed.

I almost dropped my teacup, too shocked to even breathe from sheer relief. Erik had spoken the truth! "It must be horrible," I managed.

Jacques nodded grimly and turned to Erik. "I have not ruled out foul play yet. If I may, where were you two nights ago, Erik?"

I quickly looked at Erik – he had lapsed into silence, a state of passive indifference and an air of weary resignation surrounded him. Erik seemed to have aged at least thirty years in a blink of an eye.

"You truly want to know?" he echoed dully. Erik was ready to reveal the events of that night to Jacques.

Panic and fear began to eddy around my brain. If Erik revealed the truth to Jacques Henri, it would mean the end for him. No matter what he said afterward, it would be an affirmation that he was a monster without a conscience!

"He was with me," I blurted out. "If you must know, Erik was with me the whole night…"

The two men turned and stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Is that something so unusual?" I asked flushing hotly.

"No, of course not," Jacques quickly added. "In that case, I only have one more question… did any one of you see Monsieur Van Pell near the upper decks that night?"

"No...we didn't see him," Erik and I replied in unison.

Jacques nodded and feeling a little awkward, said, "Very well… I should not bother the both of you any longer. Good night …"

Erik escorted Jacques out and shut the door. He returned to the cabin and the air was thick with tension. Pouring a glass of brandy into the glass, he drank it down without a word.

"Why did you lie to Jacques?" he demanded suddenly. "What you said could make you a possible accessory to murder..."

I had wanted to tell Erik that this was not the first time I had lied to save him.

"He wouldn't have believed your story… Jacques would have crucified you," I told him instead.

Erik made an impatient gesture. "You did not believe me the first time. What made you change your mind?"

I looked at him squarely. "Jacques said he fell to his death… It was enough to convince me that you are not to blame in this matter…"

"And why do you think he fell? It was because of this!" Erik laughed resentfully as his hands stripped the mask away. "This face is my curse…"

Oh, God! This was not the first time such an accident had happened, people fleeing to their deaths at the sight of his face. He had to live with this horror, this revulsion his entire life. I realized that I had barely scraped the surface of the anguish and madness Erik had felt, the terrible loneliness and the eternal darkness of his soul.

"No one is beyond redemption, Erik… Even Christ forgave the thief by his side," I told him quietly. "But I will not stop you if you wish to go to Jacques and tell him the truth…"

I watched him replace the mask mechanically with trembling hands. As soon as his hideous face was out of sight, his shoulders straightened as he walked out.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Author's Note: Will Erik confess? Keep reading to find out!