Chapter Twenty - Matters of the Heart
Erik stared at her, unable to believe what he had heard. "Y-You want me to do what?!"
"Erik, please, listen to me," she pleaded. "I just-"
"That room is a creation of mine!" he growled. "It's also a line of defense if we get unwanted visitors!"
"But Erik, we don't need that!" she insisted. "No one's gone looking for you-"
"Yet!" he intercepted.
"Erik, it's true that the room is very…creative," she grimaced. "You know I think you're incredible, but that room is destructive. What if a child gets in there?"
"How would a child get in there?!" he asked, exasperated, when he saw her face turn pink. He blinked, confused, when a sudden thought struck his mind…
He was composing at the organ, scribbling away, with the smell of fresh bread and supper on the stove. He could hear giggling in the background when a small hand touched his side. "Papa?" a little boy's voice drifted into his ears, causing him to turn and face the child. He was normal – a perfectly normal boy, with a beautiful little face. He smiled at the child, reaching out to touch him…
"Erik?" Angelique's voice snapped him back into reality, causing him to shake his head.
"…children?" he choked, making her blush even more.
"I…I mean, that is-" she stammered.
"It truly displeases you, the room?" he asked, the image of Angelique at his side with a child in their arms distracting him. "Could it be possible…?"
"Yes, Erik. I just think you could put your talents to better use – you have so much to offer, you just need to put it to positive use." Grasping his hands, she pleaded, "Please Erik, try to understand-"
"Erik shall dismantle the room tomorrow," he said, startling her.
"Y-You…you mean it?" she asked, heaving a breath of relief.
He nodded, tucking a stray strand of her hair out of her face. "I promise."
She smiled, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Erik." Slipping her hand into her apron pocket, she patted the little box inside, relieved that it was still in place.
"What's that?" he asked, noticing the little bulge in her pocket.
"I'll give it to you when we get home," she answered coyly.
He raised an eyebrow at her, curiosity gnawing at his brain as he eyed her apron. "A surprise?"
"Yes," she smirked. "Not until we get back." He pouted at her, earning a laugh from Angelique. "Come now, Erik, it won't be long."
"No, it won't," he said, also smirking. "Driver – back to the opera!"
"What? No fair!" she exclaimed, now pouting at Erik.
He laughed, wrapping his arm around her as he kissed the top of her head. He felt her rest against him, his heart speeding up especially as he remembered the vision of them together…as a family."It's too soon," he frowned, holding his tongue. "Perhaps in the future…perhaps…"
The carriage came to a steady halt at last, signaling their arrival at the front doors of the opera. Assisting Angelique out, Erik paid the man and led his beloved towards the back entrance. His eyes scanned the perimeter as they entered, his sights set upon her workroom door. "It looks clear, Erik," Angelique whispered as he started to open the door for her.
"Miss Archambault, is that you-?" Lord Adelshire's voice called out to her.
"Run!" she said, gasping as he took her in his arms and swept her off of her feet, slipping into the room and opening the trapdoor within seconds. Stepping inside, he quickly shut the door to the passageway and held his breath, listening for any sounds in the workroom.
"Mademoiselle?" Adelshire called out as he entered the room.
"Merde!" Erik hissed.
"I'm so sorry!" she whispered.
"Erik was not alert enough," he shook his head.
"…hmph. She vanished…almost as if that man with her was a…ghost?" Adelshire chuckled from the other side, exiting the room at last. "The seamstress and the Opera Ghost…intriguing."
Erik growled at the man, silenced by a kiss from Angelique. "Erik, never mind him," she said, resting her head against his shoulder. "Let's go upstairs…after you set me down."
"Who said I would?" he grinned, earning a squeak of excitement from her as he took off through the darkness. Climbing several flights and stalking down darkened hallways, he held Angelique close to his chest until they stepped out into the cool evening air.
"Erik, just what is-? Oh!" she gasped, seeing a blanket and basket set under the grand bronze statue of Apollo. "Erik, is this-?"
"Supper," he said as he set her on the floor and offered her his arm. "Are you pleased?"
"Pleased and surprised," she giggled, linking her arm with his. The two walked together across the roof, taking their seats as they gazed up at the twinkling stars above. "Thank you, Erik…this is so sweet of you. What's the occasion?"
"You," he said, placing their meal on a set of dishes. "You're all the excuse Erik needs for a moment like this."
"Erik, you're spoiling me again, aren't you?" she blushed yet again. "Oh! The gift!"
His head swerved over to her, his eyes glued to her hands. "A gift? For Erik? Angelique-" he started, delight and bashfulness dancing hand in hand within his chest.
"After everything you've done for me, it's the very least I could do," she said, offering him the box. "I hope you like it."
"I already do," he smiled, accepting the gift and kissing her hand before ripping the paper off and opening the box. His eyes widened as he gawked at the cufflinks within. They glinted in the moonlight, pure silver, the buttons engraved with a fanciful, elegant design of a blooming rose on them. "A-Angelique," he coughed, his hands shaking. "These…these are…but how-?"
"I had money saved from my work with the costumes from the managers," she told him, tugging at her hair anxiously as he continued to gawk. "I saw them and thought of you when I went into town…I couldn't resist."
"You didn't have to spend your money on Erik-" he said, choking on his words when he felt her lips brush against his cheek.
"I wish I could have gotten you more," she said softly, caressing his face with her fingertips. "Do you like them?"
Plucking them from their holds, he clenched them in his hand and pressed them to his heart, fiercely hugging her. "I shall treasure them…always."
~OG~
"So, what's his name?" Becca grinned, waggling her eyebrows at Angelique as she sewed the hem of her new costume.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, raising her head to look at her friend.
"Your beau, cherie! It's so obvious you have one, you're positively glowing!" Becca beamed. Since she had arrived nearly three days ago, she noticed that the seamstress was rather secretive and happened to disappear and reappear at will, oftentimes with a shadow hovering around her.
Angelique blushed, her hand reaching for her cheek as if to conceal her obvious embarrassment at making her emotions so openly known. "…Erik, his name is Erik. But I beg of you, don't tell anyone," she pleaded. "It's a sort of secret."
"Of course," giggled Becca, releasing a sigh of admiration. "Ah, to be young and in love," she shook her head with a smile of reminiscence. "I'm so happy for you, Angie-"
"Madame Anderson!" the choir master, Gabriel, shouted from the passage. "Ready when you are!"
"I'll be there shortly," she called back, letting Angelique finish her work. "Oh, Angie! I just adore your work! And you do it so perfectly, so quickly," she commented. "We're blessed to have you."
"We're blessed to have you, you mean," grinned Angelique. "The last prima donna we had, La Carlotta, was rather unpleasant. I didn't speak with her much and barely saw her, but when I did, she wasn't exactly the best lady to be seen with."
"So I've heard," laughed Becca. "Well, she's gone now, and I'm very happy to be here."
"Madame?!" Gabriel called once again, sounding anxious to start.
"I'm coming!" she shouted, casting Angelique an apologetic look. "Duty calls." She hurried out the door, only to crash into the tall figure of the Persian, who blinked in surprise as she collided with him. "Oh, dear!" she gasped, a nervous laugh escaping her. "I'm so terribly sorry, monsieur. I should have been-"
"No, madame, I should apologize," he said, bowing to her politely. "I have the habit of materializing when people least expect it."
She giggled at this, giving him a radiant smile when she heard her name called once more. "Do excuse me," she said, curtsying to him before she ran away, her skirts swishing around her.
The Persian watched her depart, his eyes trailing on her shrinking figure, until someone cleared their throat to earn his attention.
"You have a nasty habit of appearing near my workroom whenever Becca drops by," smirked Angelique, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised at him accusingly.
"Coincidences," he huffed, mimicking the young woman as he crossed his arms over his chest also, freezing as he heard a chuckle swirl in the air around them.
"I think not, Daroga," Erik's voice teased him, sounding playful and menacing all at once. "How interesting that you should be so interested in this singer."
"I am not!" he snapped, glaring at the walls before turning and walking away.
Angelique giggled, shaking her head at him. "Poor Daroga." Glancing around, she smiled and whispered, "Erik, if you can hear me, I have a few moments before I have to get back to work. Won't you come and visit m-EEP!" An arm snacked around her waist and tugged her into the room, the door shutting after them. "Erik!" she scolded him, though she couldn't stop smiling. "You scared me!"
"Erik is sorry," he smiled, not sounding the least bit sorry. "But he wished to visit you."
"Good," she answered, tugging on his cravat so that he lowered his head. "Now let me show you how much I've missed you."
~OG~
Five Days Later…
Adelshire checked his pocket watch a third time that evening, toying with the chain as he finally decided to leave the managers' office and head for Box Five. He was rather anxious to meet the Opera Ghost in person, especially after speaking with Madame Giry.
"He's a genius and a gentleman, monsieur," she had reassured him the other day. "Treat him courteously and he shall be most generous with you."
He had had a few brief conversations with the voice of the ghost throughout the past few days, but they were restricted to elements of the performance. Therefore, he was most excited to see the man in person and get to know him. He was also extremely curious as to why he had received a letter stating not to be surprised that Angelique Archambault would be joining them. He recalled the night he was wondering the opera and saw her enter with a shadow only to disappear in the blink of an eye. "Could it be…?"
Arriving at the door, he held his breath as he reached out and lightly knocked on the door.
"Come in," the familiar voice of the Opera Ghost answered.
Holding his head high, he turned the knob and entered, his eyes falling upon two figures at the seats. Shutting the door behind him, he squinted, gasping as he realized who the first was. "Mademoiselle?"
Angelique stood close to one of the chairs, looking beautifully regal in her robin's egg blue gown, her skirts billowing out around her while her shoulders and neck remained exposed, her sleeves flowing down to cover her arms until they arrived at her wrists. A curly strand of her auburn hair rested upon her collarbone beside her locket, the rest of her hair placed into an elegant chignon bun. She smiled politely at him, curtsying as she said, "Bonsoir, Lord Adelshire. We're delighted you could make it."
The old man's eyes traveled down to the second figure, cloaked in darkness as he sat facing the stage, his back towards the Englishman. Slowly, the second figure arose and turned to face him. He was dressed in a fine, tailored suit, the red cravat around his neck the only unique color that stood out from his black ensemble. His dark hair was slicked back while his face – with the exception of the grotesque lips, chin, and startling golden eyes – was protected with a pristine white mask. The man languidly adjusted the cuff of his coat, a set of handsome silver cufflinks glinting in the low light of the lamps in Box Five. Tugging on both of his gloves, as if to make certain they were properly in place, the strange, alluring man walked around and made his way towards Adelshire, stalking forth like a panther on the prowl. Cautiously, he extended his arm, offering his hand to the gentleman.
"Lord Adelshire," the man spoke, the voice with which Adelshire had become so familiar with rolling off this stranger's tongue. "I am Erik Chevalier…the Opera Ghost."
Adelshire stared at him a moment, stunned by the figure. However, he quickly snapped out of his stupor and shook hands heartily with the man, a smile growing on his face. "It is an honor to meet at last, monsieur. Shall we sit down? The show is about to start."
Erik nodded, motioning for him to move first. Adelshire did so, sitting down to the far left while Erik took his place in between the man and Angelique. He gripped her hand, feeling her squeeze him in encouragement and cast him a supportive smile before he turned to face the older gentleman. "I'm certain you have many questions."
"I am rather curious," he admitted. "I can see why you insist on being just a voice and even in person you hide your face with a mask. I shan't pry, it's none of my business," he waved it off, causing Erik to unconsciously release a breath of relief. "Still…why did you agree to see me in person now?"
"If we are to become partners, we should be able to sit down at a show and discuss what can be improved and what has been done correctly. You are a man who is more familiar with prospects and clients, while I am more intoned with the elements as to what makes the arts so desirable…you said you yourself," Erik commented. "I'm certain you've heard rumors about me, and of events that have transpired before you arrived."
"Murders, disappearances, incidents – oh yes, I've heard them all," Adelshire nodded. "However, lately there don't seem to be as many…almost as if the ghost has been soothed by some unnamed force…" He cast a wink at Angelique, who blushed and cast her eyes towards the stage quickly. "How did you manage to earn this young lady's love, my friend?"
"I'm still uncertain of that," Erik answered honestly, feeling his heart flutter as she looked back at him and smiled. "And yet, here she is…"
"He's changed, Lord Adelshire, I can swear to it," she spoke up at last, her eyes sparkling with joy. "He's really quite the genius, and he's kindhearted under all the orders and occasional threats." She sent him a look, to which he smirked, his only response being a kiss on her bare hand. "This partnership would be beneficial to you both."
He nodded, hearing the orchestra in the pit below tuning their instruments, signaling the start of the show. "Well…let us see what this bodes for us, shall we?"
For the next three hours, the two men murmured back and forth little comments on details they caught, whether positive or negative. They were, however, pleased that the enraptured audience applauded each time a song was done, especially by the new prima donna on her debut in Paris. Erik constantly glanced over at Angelique, smiling as he watched her face light up, taking in every moment the show had to offer. Wrapping his arm around her, he relished the feel of her body pressed to his side, unashamed to how he felt for her before the Englishman. At one point in the show, Adelshire and Angelique glanced at Erik, curious.
"Erik, what happened to La Sorelli?" Angelique whispered as she saw little Meg Giry take place of the lead dancer that night.
"She injured herself in practice this morning and was unable to perform, so I made the arrangement that little Giry should be her understudy. She's maturing into quite the young lady," he stated coolly, watching the ballerina take charge.
"Upon my word! She's lovely!" Adelshire laughed, nodding as he watched her prance and dip about on stage. "Brilliant job, monsieur!"
"Merci," Erik answered quietly, unused to all the positive attention. Silently, he motioned for Angelique to look across the way at another private box. She did so, her eyes falling upon the form of Philippe de Chagny, the Persian, and another gentleman with whom she was unfamiliar with. When she looked back to her beloved, she raised an eyebrow, confused. "Baron Henri de Castelot-Barbezac," he whispered to her. She looked back at the young man, clearly somewhere in his early twenties with dark chestnut hair and firm, strong stature, his brown eyes following the form of delicate Meg. He appeared to be infatuated with her, never letting the smile fade from his face.
Instantly, it clicked in her mind as she realized what was happening. Erik had promised Madame Giry that Meg would become an "empress", and with a man like the Baron interested in her, it could mean a future with him as his spouse. "So that's why I had to make those adjustments in the costume before I could get changed this evening!" Smiling wryly at him, she whispered, "I just hope Meg doesn't mind this little arrangement you've made."
"Something tells Erik that things will work out nicely," he answered, kissing her cheek lightly. "Trust Erik, dearest – he shan't harm anyone, especially not with matters of the heart."
She shook her head at him, wanting to laugh at his cleverness when he eyes returned to Philippe's box. She took note of the Persian – "Nadir," she reminded herself with a grin – and followed his line of sight the moment Becca came back on stage. He, too, took in every movement, and even smiled as he watched her perform the role of Juliette. "Well played, Erik," she whispered, winking at him once she earned his attention. "Well played."
The performance went on flawlessly until the very end. There was not a single dry eye in the house as Romeo and Juliette lay side by side, dead and together at last. A thunderous applause filled the opera house as everyone rose to their feet, cheering and throwing flowers to the performers as they all stepped out to congratulate the cast.
"Erik, this was beautiful," Angelique sniffled, dabbing at her eyes as she smiled down on her friends.
"Indeed," Adelshire coughed, struggling to maintain his composure. "I can't seem to recall the last time I was so…moved. Well done, Monsieur Chevalier."
"Thank you, Lord Adelshire-"
"Rupert," grinned the man, offering his hand.
Erik's lips slowly stretched into a small smile as he shook the man's hand. "Erik."
Looking back down at the stage, Adelshire added, "I have a rather strong feeling that my dear friends Richard and Moncharmin will want to speak with me soon about their eminent retirement. So, Erik, do you have any ideas as to what our next show will be?"
Erik caught a look from Angelique as he inhaled deeply, mustering his courage. "…I should like to show you something when you are not occupied…it's a newer piece of opera that hasn't been discovered yet."
"Excellent," Adelshire beamed. "How exciting this all is! I'm looking forward to a long partnership with you, Erik."
"…as am I, Rupert."
~OG~
"I can't believe it – we did it!" screamed Becca in delight, hopping up and down in her dressing room – previously Christine's – as she held hands with Angelique and Meg Giry, all of them giggling and smiling like schoolgirls.
"I was so terrified when they told me what happened to Sorelli, I thought I wasn't going to make it!" Meg confessed, earning a hug from Angelique.
"But you did! I'm so proud of you, Meg!" the seamstress gushed, causing the ballerina to blush.
Both women had received bountiful amounts of flowers that night, offering Angelique some to take home, to which she instantly refused, saying that they should keep their treasures and relish their victory. The three gathered now in Christine Daae's old dressing room, now furnished for Becca's liking, surrounded by flowers as they hid away from the hordes that demanded to see the two stars. A knock at the door startled all three of them sending them into another fit of giggles.
"I'll shoo them away," Angelique promised, hurrying towards the door. As she opened it, however, she came face to face with three gentlemen, two of which she was very familiar with. "Daroga? Philippe?" she asked, gaping at them.
"May we come in?" Philippe asked, glancing back at the crowds nearby.
"Oh, well…I suppose so." She ushered them in before locking the door once again, noticing how the Persian and Baron both held gifts in their hands.
"Madame Anderson," the Daroga bowed to her politely.
"Call me Becca, everyone else does," she smiled brightly at him, startled as he offered her a small box with a little pastel yellow bow on the corner. "What's this?"
"I understand you enjoy caramels," was all he said to her as she opened the box, gaping at the sweets placed within.
"Oh…thank you!" she said, her smile growing by the second.
"Congratulations," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
Angelique bit her lip as so not to laugh as Becca became cherry red. Turning her attention away, she saw the young Baron approach little Meg, bowing to her and kissing her hand before introducing himself.
"Mademoiselle, I am Henri, Baron de Castelot-Barbezac," he said to her, offering her a large bouquet of lavish roses. His eyes shone as he confessed, "Forgive me if I am too forward, mademoiselle, but you were truly exquisite on the stage tonight. I have seen you before with the corps de ballet, but tonight…tonight you shone as bright as any star in the sky."
"You flatter me too much," she stammered, blushing as she accepted the compliments and flowers. "I cannot thank you enough."
Smiling at the scene, Angelique turned to leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking back, she saw Philippe, his eyes staring at her longingly. "Monsieur le Comte-?"
"I had hoped you might at least continue to call me Philippe," he said, letting his hand slide off her shoulder.
"Hello, Philippe," she tried again, giving him a small smile. "How are you? I haven't seen you around the opera as often as before."
"I've been occupied," he answered lightly.
"How's Sorelli?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Last I checked, furious," he chuckled. "She didn't like that little misstep she took during practice, but she won't be able to dance for another few days. I believe she sprained her ankle."
"Ugh," she grimaced. "Please give her my best wishes. I don't suppose you heard from Raoul or Christine, have you?"
"They're safe, that's all I'm at liberty to say," he told her apologetically. "They're together and happy."
"Good," she nodded. Biting her lip, she waited a moment before she dared to ask, "…have you…have you heard from my uncle?"
He shook his head. "Nothing as of late. Should there be any word, I'll personally deliver it to the opera."
"Thank you," she said, touching his hand in a gesture of gratitude.
He stiffened for a moment, looking away as he bit his tongue. "…I take it you're still with him."
"Yes, I'm with Erik," she nodded, placing her hands upon her hips. "We love each other very much, Philippe. We're courting."
"I hope you can forgive me for asking this, but…has he…I mean, do you two…?" he started to asked, regretting it the instant her eyes narrowed at him.
"No, we have not. Erik is a gentleman, believe it or not, and he would never dream to do such a thing." "With the way he still reacts to touch and kisses sometimes, I don't know if he's quite ready for anything likethat."
"I'm so sorry, Angelique, please forgive me," he begged of her.
She sighed, shaking her head. "Never mind, Philippe. I'm sorry, but I do have to go. Please excuse me. Good night."
He watched her leave, frustration and longing intertwined within him. He sighed, before also leaving. She had made her choice, and he would not force her to change just for his sake. Placing his top hat upon his head, he walked through the masses and abandoned the two couples in the dressing room.
Angelique, hidden away in a corridor of the opera, watched the Comte leave, shaking her head as she pushed on through the darkness until she sensed another presence.
"Do you ever regret this?" Erik asked, his fingers touching her shoulder as light as a butterfly. "Do you ever regret…me?"
Her heart ached as she heard his mournful voice. Spinning around, she lunged for him, claiming his mouth as her own. "Never, my love," she murmured before kissing him again.
Gathering her in his arms, he carried her off to his world behind the trapdoors.