A/N: So last night I had this marvelous surprise in my inbox. The subject line read: Risen from the dead! This story is a vampire! And the contents are what I bring you now. Behold it. A BRAND NEW chapter from our lovely long lost Kit! BEHOOOOOLD!
Chapter 21
"Why don't you eat?"
"I don't want it." Katherine snapped, pushing away the plate riddled with strange 'delicacies' that looked as if they'd already been digested.
"Now, what way is that to address your mother?"
Katherine had been at her grandmother's grandiose mansion for nearly a month. When the letter came demanding... requesting... her presence, she hadn't had the will to say no. She let herself be carted off like cattle. Wealthy cattle. Belle hadn't known what to say. Hadn't said anything, really, except for 'Is this really what you want?'
But Katherine hadn't known.
"The Duke of Kent is stopping by later to see you, Katherine."
She scoffed. "His French is terrible. Half the time, he insults me without knowing it. Blathering idiot."
"He would be a good match for you." her mother chastised.
"For me, or for the family?"
"Both. You must learn that you and the family are one and the same." her grandmother said.
"Is it even appropriate to meet with suitors in a period of mourning?"
"You cannot let a little something like mourning get in the way of living your life," her grandmother said.
Katherine abruptly pushed back from the table and disappeared into the hallway in a whirl of black silk.
"Disgraceful, Elise" her grandmother sputtered as soon as she was sure she had gone. "Absolutely disgraceful. I'd count us lucky if we could persuade a stable boy to marry her."
"As long as we get what we need from her, that's all that matters," her mother responded.
"You must get her to sign the papers."
"All in good time."
A servant entered the diningroom and curtseyed. "A letter for Mademoiselle Katherine, Miss."
"Thank you, Alice." Elise said kindly as she stood, moving across the room and holding a hand out for the envelope. "I'll make certain she gets it."
The girl curtseyed again and scurried away.
"Another letter from that base-born artist girl," Elise scoffed. "I shall put this with the rest, I suppose," she said flippantly before tearing the envelope in two and casting it into the small wood-furnace in the corner of the room.
"I shouldn't have come here," Katherine muttered to herself, tossing her fine, heavy gowns into a trunk. "I shouldn't have come here. I don't know what I was thinking."
She hadn't been thinking at all.
She threw her final gown into the trunk and forced the lid closed before collapsing on top of it. How many times in the last month had she done this exact thing? How many times had she pulled together all will and determination to disappear into the night before losing her conviction? There was still some part of her, some small, miniscule part of her that hoped to reconcile with her mother and that part, no matter how the rational parts of her mind seemed to argue, always won out.
She bit back a sob and threw the trunk open before replacing the gowns in her wardrobe.
What do I have to go back to, anyway? She wondered as she smoothed them down. Belle hasn't bothered coming to call, and Erik has no doubt disowned all thought and concept of me by now.
The thought was almost painful. Is this really all that's left for me?
She hadn't realized how few connections she had in the world.
The knock on the door startled her. "Katherine, darling," her mother trilled. "Andrew is here to see you. He's waiting for you in the parlor."
Biting back her annoyance, Katherine strode purposefully to the study, sure to plaster a smile on her face as she rounded the corner.
"Katherine," the man smiled, rising to his feel. "You're looking quite terrifying this evening."
Katherine winced at the man's butchering of her native tongue. "As are you, Andrew," she replied.
Andrew beamed. "I trust your mother and grandmother are suffering?"
"I certainly hope so," Katherine said. "I say, Monsieur Quinn. Your French improves each time we meet."
"Do you think so?" he asked excitedly. "I haven't been trying to improve it at all!"
"And it shows."
"And who would have thought that my time in France would have resulted in my meeting such a beautiful and horrid young woman?"
"Must have been pure luck," Katherine commented flatly.
"I was wondering, Mademoiselle Aiton," Andrew began nervously, tugging lightly at the collar of his expensive looking shirt. "If you might grant me the pleasure of courting you?"
Katherine resisted the immediate impulse to gape. "Monsieur, I-"
"She most certainly would!" her mother exclaimed, bustling around the corner quickly. "It would be not only her honor, but the honor of this family if-"
"Mother, I do hope you weren't eavesdropping?" Katherine feigned shocked concern.
Her mother balked slightly. "Of course not. I was simply coming to inform you that tea had been prepared for the two of you."
"Monsieur Quinn… Andrew," Katherine began sincerely. "I am afraid I cannot accept your offer. It wouldn't be fair to you."
"Does your heart belong to another?" Andrew asked, crushed.
"No, nothing like that," she assured him. A pang shot through her chest and Erik's face flashed through her head at her negative confession. Although it gave her pause, she pressed on. "I fear I have not been completely honest with you in regards to my position."
"What do you mean?"
"Katherine-" her mother began, but Katherine ignored her.
"I spent a majority of my life poor. I was raised by my father, a merchant. I only recently came into my fortune, and only recently came to be reunited with my mother's family. I am no great lady. I've never had finishing of any kind. Why, a little over a month ago, every gown I owned was threadbare, my shoes were beginning to split, I had dirt underneath my fingernails, and I spent a majority of my days standing on a bridge over the Seine helping my friend sell paintings so her family could eat."
Andrew looked mildly horrified.
"If you still wish to court me after my telling you this, then by all means, I will certainly grant you the honor of doing so."
"I… well, I mean to say that I… It seems I have lost track of time. I must be somewhere shortly, so I am afraid I must take my leave." The Englishman stood up, bowed hastily, and all but ran from the room.
Katherine collapsed into an armchair.
"Do you realize what you've done?" her mother demanded, eyes burning holes through Katherine. "You chased the Duke of Kent out of our house! You will never have a chance like that again! You could have married-"
"Didn't you used to tell me that finding love was the greatest accomplishment one could achieve in a lifetime?" Katherine asked quietly.
"You could have learned to love him." Madame Aiton sniffed. "A husband would be good for you. You are far too untamed. You run about like an urchin. No sense of propriety-"
"Love his money and his station, you mean," Katherine countered. "And it's a little late to try and tame me, don't you think? Having spent most of my life as an urchin, It's not hard to see where that untamed streak comes from. I remember a time when you encouraged that streak."
"That was a long time ago." Her mother said coldly.'
-x-
The phantom raged. Fury towards his own weaknesses, fury towards his mistakes, fury towards all manner of female existence, unleashed a thousand-fold on the unsuspecting organ as his fingers assaulted the keys furiously. Broken, jagged notes permeated the air, resonant discord bouncing off of stone walls, nearly visible, choking the air as Erik played. He reveled in this assault on his eardrums.
I came to tell you Katherine's gone.
As if he hadn't noticed!
He slammed a gloved hand down on the keyboard, summoning a screeching cry from the organ pipes. He flew away from the seat, beginning to take on a furious pacing back and forth between the walls of his abode.
"I shouldn't be surprised," he hissed vehemently. "A low-class girl come into a fortune, taking her rightful place in high society." He sneered. "Learning to waltz with well-dressed fops, counting off silverware whilst dining with noblemen, sipping glasses of fine champagne while hired musicians screech Mozart through their violins."
He outright laughed. "Where will Cinderella run when the clock strikes midnight and the upper-crust realize she's just a pretty peasant?"
He collapsed back onto the organ bench, staring over the dark expanse of the lake.
"Farewell, farewell" he murmured. "Even Christine had the decency for parting words."
-x-
"I can't breathe," Katherine gasped quietly. "I can hardly move."
"Smile and look charming," her mother instructed, moving forward to greet their guests. "Wonderful to see you, Antoinette!" she trilled, clasping the severe looking woman's hands in her own. "It's been too long, really."
"Indeed it has, Elise." The smile that followed seemed to nearly split her face in two. "I trust you remember my daughter, Brigitte."
"How do you do," the girl curtseyed, blonde curls tumbling over her face.
"My son should be along shortly," Antoinette said. "I apologize for his tardiness. He had other matters to tend to."
"No trouble at all," Elise waved her hand. "I would like to introduce my daughter, Katherine."
Katherine tipped her head slightly. "I apologize. I would curtsey, as dictated by our societal norms, however, I find my lungs pressed a bit too tightly against my rib-cage today to even think of exerting even the smallest attempt at bending."
Antoinette and Brigitte were aghast.
"Please forgive my daughter's… crude behavior. She has spent a great majority of her life abroad with her father, who neglected to teach her proper manners,"
Katherine stared at her mother. Is that the excuse she had come up with to explain her sudden appearance? Living abroad with her father?
"Actually, I-" she began, intent to set the record straight.
"Well, why don't we all have a seat?" her mother interrupted. "Alice should be by with the tea soon."
Katherine, in no mood to argue (feeling that she perhaps didn't have the breath to do so,) took a seat across from Brigitte.
"I'm so terrible to hear about your father, Mademoiselle Aiton," Brigitte began kindly. "It must be dreadful to lose a parent."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle Gaucher," Katherine said. "You're very kind."
"Katherine hasn't been coping well," Elise began as an aside to Antoinette. "She's insisting to remain in mourning. In this day and age!"
"The proper mourning period for father and husband is a full year," Katherine interjected. "For someone who is so focused on what society expects, you're certainly very lax in terms of-"
"Forgive my daughter's rudeness," Elise said, casting Katherine a stern look. "Her father's death is an area of great tenderness."
Katherine turned her attention back to Brigitte.
Brigitte cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"Are you fond of horses, Mademoiselle Aiton?" she asked finally.
"Why do you ask?" Katherine countered, puzzled.
"I've always had a fondness for them, myself. My uncle has a great many horses. He lives just outside of Paris."
"I see," Katherine said. "I'm not too familiar with horses."
"You've never been riding?"
"No."
Shock exploded across Brigitte's face. "Really?"
"I've read a few books about horses, but I've never had much opportunity to interact with them close up."
"Books about horses?" Brigitte wrinkled her nose. "Do you read often?"
"As often as possible."
"I'm rather fond of romances, myself."
It was Katherine's turn to wrinkle her nose. "I prefer histories. Sciences are good, too, and I have a special place in my heart for Greek epics."
"That's… ah… certainly interesting."
"I certainly think so," Katherine nearly snapped.
"Oh, Marcel!" Elise cried abruptly. "Do come sit!"
Katherine flicked her eyes towards the door.
"I apologize for my lateness," he said, straightening his cravat as he slipped into the room.
He was tall and blond, a larger, more masculine version of his sister.
"No trouble. Please do have a seat."
He strode forward, taking up a place next to his sister.
"I presume you're the Katherine that I've been hearing about?" he asked the girl across from him.
"Of course. Why bother waiting for an introduction?"
Katherine's mother paled visibly. "Now, Katherine, is that any way to-"
"A spirited woman!" he exclaimed. "I daresay, something must be done about that. Don't you have a husband to keep you in line?"
Katherine narrowed her eyes.
"Husband? She's practically a spinster!" Elise exclaimed exaggeratedly. "Twenty one years old and completely unattached!"
"Ah, well, that explains it then, doesn't it?"
"And what of you?" Katherine snapped. "You look to be well into your twenties and yet I don't see a band on your finger."
"Men don't need the same sort of guidance as young women do. You are all overly prone to negative traits and debauchery without a man to keep you in check."
The scoff that followed was anything but ladylike. "Monsieur," she began as she stood. "Had I more breath, I would certainly prepare a verbal assault that would uncurl your sister's pretty hair. However, as I find myself too tightly laced into this horrendous contraption no doubt invented by men to keep we of the female persuasion from becoming too diabolical through the sheer inability to inhale, I will simply bid you a good afternoon and hope that I've made enough of a scene to prevent your mother and sister, and therefore you, from ever returning to this house," she announced before marching out of the room, leaving her mortified mother babbling incoherent apologies as Antoinette and Brigitte stared, shocked, towards the door.
-x-
The knock on her door, although expected, was unwelcome.
"Katherine, open this door immediately," her mother's muffled voice shot through the wooden panels.
"Have you forgotten how to turn a knob?" Katherine snapped.
The door flew open.
"What were you thinking? That family thinks you're wrong in the head! Why must you go on like this? Where is your sense of propriety? Where is your head, girl?" Elise raged like Katherine had never seen her rage before.
"Maybe I should just leave." Katherine said quietly. "I cannot fit into your tidy ladies' mold. I can't think what you expect me to think. I can't not say what I think needs to be said. I cannot be anymore than I am. Perhaps it would be better if I went."
"Leave?" her mother cackled. "And go where? What do you have outside of this house? Who do you have outside of this house? Your father is dead,"
Katherine hiccoughed.
"Your father is dead," she repeated. "And that little urchin friend of yours, has she come to call? Have you heard a single word?"
"I wrote to her…"
"Has she written back?"
"N-no but I expect she's just been…" Katherine couldn't finish. Belle had never been too busy for Katherine.
"Who else do you have out there?" her mother gestured wildly towards the window.
Katherine thought briefly of Erik. Of his reaction to her first unplanned absence. He probably hated her. Would probably kill her for setting foot in the cellars.
"No friends. No family. Nothing. I, we, this is all you have left."
The door slammed behind her.
Katherine stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the edge of her bed. "Nothing," she murmured. Her fears had been reassured. "So very true.
This is all that I have."
A/A/N: (Another Author's Note) Raise your hand if you hate Katherine's family! *raises two hands* I can raise two hands because I wrote Belle. Okay, put your hand(s) down... that's right... onto the keyboard. Now write a review! If you would be so kind. :)
Phantom of the Opera and the characters therein belong to Gaston Leroux.
The musical film version and general foundation for this phanfic belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Phanfic co-written by Beth (me) and Kit. (Esareh) This one exclusively by Kit.