Chapter Twenty-One - The New Manager

"You found someone already?!" Richard stammered, offended that Adelshire had gotten to work so quickly.

"I did," nodded the Englishman calmly, sipping his morning tea as he sat down and enjoyed breakfast with Richard and Moncharmin at the latter's home. "His name is Erik Chevalier, he's perfect for the job."

"That's a relief," Moncharmin noted, chewing pensively on his toast. "…then I suppose we can start thinking about making announcements once the arrangements are made."

"Of course," Adelshire agreed. "What would be a decent time for you?"

"Oh, let's say…in a month?" Moncharmin suggested. "Enough time to get paperwork done and not look extremely suspicious in the public's eye, and we should have a decent amount of time to start looking for a place in Vienna to relax."

Richard nodded, already drooling at the mouth as he imagined himself far away from this crazy opera house. He pitied the poor soul who would be manager, knowing he would have to deal with that blasted Opera Ghost…

~OG~

"He asked you to join him, didn't he?" giggled Becca. "What did you say?!"

"How could I refuse?" Meg blushed as she twirled a strand of her dark hair around her forefinger. "I said 'yes', and he promised to pick me up tonight for supper."

"That's wonderful news, Meg!" Angelique grinned, enjoying a cup of tea with the girls in Becca's dressing room. She was delighted to have found out that the young Baron had taken quite a shine to Meg, and Madame Giry was already boastfully telling the whole opera house of her success. Erik had already received an hour-long "thank-you" speech from the woman, making him want to slip out of his hiding place and strangle her with his Punjab lasso. "One would think it was she who caught the Baron's attention," he growled as he dropped her off at her workroom that morning. She shook her head, giggling at the memory of his flustered, uncomfortable expression. He was still so very unaccustomed to gratitude…

"What about you, Becca? I can't believe the Persian actually brought you something!" Meg commented, snapping Angelique out of her thoughts.

"Nadir is really very sweet," she beamed. "I never expected anything from him, and here he was, bringing me caramels! At the very least, I do hope this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Now, Angie, what about you and your beau? Did he come to the performance last night?" she asked, her brilliant green eyes on the form of the silent seamstress.

"He did – he was so impressed by both your performances," she answered, winking at Meg who paled and blushed all at once. "He's actually-"

"The new manager of the Palais Garnier," Adelshire said as he popped his head into the room. "Knock knock, ladies! So sorry to cut in like this, however-"

"Wait, your darling Erik is the new manager?!" Becca squealed in delight, grabbing Angelique's hands. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"It was…a surprise?" she said, her smile looking more like a grimace as she cast Adelshire a pouting look of irritation.

"Really?" Meg gasped, stunned to hear the news. If her mother ever made the connection that the Ghost and new manager were one in the same, who knew how she would react?

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop or interrupt, but I do need you, Miss Archambault. There's a new shipment of cloth coming in and I simply wanted to make sure it is correct and to your liking."

She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing that she had not placed an order in any time lately when he gave her a playful wink and casually traced his finger over the lower half of his face, as if to draw a mask on his skin. She quickly made the connection, rising and excusing herself from the girls before following him out. "Really, monsieur, what's all this about?" she asked, accepting his arm as he offered it to her.

"Erik is getting ready to sign the contracts and he wanted you to be there – is that a problem?" he grinned impishly, seeing her face light up.

"Oh…oh my!" she gasped, her stomach flopping about in her stomach as her heart soared. "That's-that's wonderful! But, so soon-?"

"Armand and Firmin are quite anxious to get out and move to Vienna for their retirement, so who am I to hold them back? Besides, I'm very excited to get this partnership going," he answered cheerfully, unlocking the door and ushering her inside. "It's all right, Erik, it's just me and your lovely lady."

Erik's head popped out from behind the desk where he had hidden upon their arrival, his eyes lighting up as he saw Angelique. "Mon ange!"

"Erik!" she gasped as he picked her up and spun her around, giggling as he kissed her. "You saw me not half an hour ago!"

"Erik is aware of that," he nodded, somewhat distracted and anxious. "However, this is all so…sudden, and Erik is unaccustomed to such things, and thought that perhaps-"

"Thank you for having me here," she whispered, embracing him tightly. "It means so much to me that you want me here while you make it all official."

Adelshire chuckled merrily as he withdrew a plume from the desk and stood close by, watching the two of them. "Ah, l'amour," he grinned, earning their attention. "I hate to cut in, but shall we?"

Erik squeezed her hand before stepping forward, his fingers trembling as he accepted the feathered quill from the elder. He had already read through the paperwork in the past few minutes, and had taken a gander at it years ago when the opera first opened, but now with the prospect of actually officially running the place…his name would be known, he'd have to make public appearances every so often…of course, he had the means to do so, that wasn't a problem at all…however, he could scarcely wrap his mind around the idea, the whole situation being somewhat overwhelming.

Gripping the quill, he bent over the paper and took a deep breath. Thoughts and hopes of a happy, normal future for him and, God willing, Angelique filled his mind, urging him to take his time and sign his name fancifully on the paper. He would have very much liked to have scribbled his name away as he normally did, but this was a precious, terrifying, unique moment…he wanted to make it count. At long last, he finished and set the feather down, handing the parchment over to the owner and waiting for him to finish looking at the signature. He was still waiting for the man to turn on him, to glower and point, to call the police in and have something drastic happen to shatter this happy moment…

Adelshire beamed, offering his hand to Erik. "Congratulations, my friend. Thank you."

Erik gasped for air, surprised that he had been holding his breath for so long. He shook Adelshire's hand, freezing as the man gave him a hug, patting him on the back. His words of encouragement and reassurance were lost on Erik, his min whirling from the shock of accepting that this was the truth – he was the true manager of the Palais Garnier, and all would answer to him, Opera Ghost or no. He didn't snap out of his stupor until Angelique kissed him tenderly, feeling his own tears run down his masked face. "Don't wake me," he mumbled. "There are so many wonderful things happening…they're happening to me…Erik must be dreaming-"

"No, no you're not, Erik," she said, smiling beautifully at him. "It's all real. You're story's changing…now you have to make the most of it."

~OG~

La Sorelli tested her ankle on the floor of her private room, hissing as pain shot through her leg. With a frustrated sigh, she threw her ballet shoes across the room, covering her face with her hands as she wept. She was doomed…

"Mademoiselle?" she heard Angelique call out as she knocked on the door of her dressing room. "I have your dress fitted-"

"Go away!" she cried.

The door creaked open, signaling the seamstress's entrance into her room. She desperately wished she had something at hand to throw at the girl – alas, she could find nothing. "I said to leave me alone!" she blubbered.

"I just…I wanted to drop the dress off," she heard Angelique answer quietly. "…what's wrong? Can I help you in any way?"

"Help me vanish and I should be most grateful," she snapped. "My life is over – little Meg will most likely be named the new head dancer under this new manager, and Philippe is infatuated with you, no matter what I do!" She sobbed into her hands, shaking her head. "Just leave me alone!"

All was silent for several moments as she continued to cry, hoping that the girl had gone. At the touch of a hand on her shoulder, her head jerked up to see Angelique by her side, gazing down at her sympathetically. "Sorelli…I am sorry, truly." She scoffed at her, turning her face away. "But I can assure you that the new manager will not send you away, and I have no interest whatsoever in Philippe-"

"But he's interested in you," she frowned, refusing to face her. "I know it. He always looks in your direction when you're near and makes small comments about you-"

"Then why not find someone who does appreciate you?" she suggested, raising an eyebrow. "He's an admirable and wonderful man, but if he's not going to pay you any mind, then he isn't worth your time."

Sorelli faced her, stunned by her advice. "B-But…I have nothing, no one to turn to. If I leave Philippe-"

"You won't be alone. You have the ballet girls-"

"Infants," she rolled her eyes.

"Your adoring fans-"

"They can turn on me in the blink of an eye," she grumbled.

"Your friends-"

"I have none."

"Yes, you do. That is, if you want them."

She raised her head once more, startled by the fierceness in her voice. "W-What-?"

"I don't know if it's just that Philippe had an attraction to me or if there are other attributes about me that bother you, but I never wanted to be your enemy, Sorelli. For the past few years, I had to suffer under a cruel stepfamily, and then I came here and I found so much happiness…I'd like to be able to share it with you, too." Taking the dancer's hands in her own, she gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze and smiled. "I'd like to be friends with you. I know that Becca and Meg admire your skills, and I think you're incredible. Can't we start over, Sorelli?"

She looked into the girl's stormy-hued eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and kindness, guilt poking at her conscience. "…I'm sorry…I suppose I got jealous and…well, there were times when I didn't speak or think kindly of you…why are you doing this anyways?"

"I don't like to leave things unresolved, especially when I can fix them," she answered.

"…I'd like to start over," she said quietly, blushing as Angelique embraced her. "…thank you."

"No, thank you, for giving me a chance," she beamed. Tucking her hair out of her eyes, she got up and suggested, "Why don't I bring you the dress and help you put it on? I can make the adjustments right here."

"I can't get up," Sorelli warned her.

"That's all right, we'll manage," she grinned, earning a laugh from the dancer.

Manage they did, spending the next hour fitting and sewing the gown, giggling and whispering, talking and sharing their hopes and fears, getting to know one another, until there was a knock on the door.

"It's open," Sorelli called out, her eyes widening at the sight of Philippe de Chagny. "…Phi-lippe? What are you-?"

"I'm sorry," he said, seeing the two girls together. His hands were behind his back, causing the girls to peer at him curiously. "I didn't realize you were busy-"

"I was just finishing," Angelique said, rising to her feet and gathering the dress in her arms. "I just wanted to put this away…" Excusing herself, she walked to the bureau and placed the dress back on the hanger when she heard Philippe say to Sorelli, "May we speak?"

"About what?" she asked calmly, letting her hair fall loose from her bun.

"About us…in private," he added quickly, showing her what was hidden behind his back.

She gasped as a bouquet of flowers came into view, her heart aching in her breast. "Philippe?!"

"In a moment," he promised, his smile fading as he handed her the flowers and left to face Angelique. "Angelique…I just received this in the mail…I came as soon as I could."

Her brows furrowed as she took the envelope in his hands, tugging the letter out of the torn coverlet. "What's this…?"

"Monsieur le Comte de Changy,

Please be sure to bring this letter to Mademoiselle Angelique Archambault:

Dearest Angelique,

We are writing you this letter because your uncle, Pierre Archambault, has recently passed away. The funeral will be held within three days time, and we hope you can make it there. He thought often of you once he found out of your being in Paris, and has left a note here for you that he made known should only be touched by your hands. We hope that you will come, as we are also anxious to meet you.

Our deepest condolences and affections,

M. et Mdm. Joubert."

Angelique felt her body shake as she read the words, her eyes stinging as tears slide down her face. An invisible knife stabbed her through the heart as she reread the short letter, a part of her feeling as thought it was dying.

"Angelique-?!" Sorelli asked, her eyes widening as she watched the girl go running out without another word. "Angelique, wait-!"

"Best leave her," Philippe shook his head. "She's gone to seek comfort."

"Where?" the dancer asked, utterly confused.

"Her beau," he answered simply.

"Will she be-?"

"I certainly hope so," he said, kneeling before her as he heaved a sigh. "Sorelli…I just wanted to…to apologize."

"Apologize?" she blinked.

"I've been so blatantly rude and uncaring, and it's obvious that I keep turning my eye to Angelique."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes as she cheekily answered him, her old self returning. "Even a blind man could see that."

He chuckled before becoming somber once more. "I haven't been fair to you…Angelique is happy with her beloved, and you've always been there for me…I only wanted to make it up to you. I got to thinking since last night's performance…I missed seeing you onstage, and I missed your company these past few days…all I ask if your forgiveness. I understand if you never wish to see me again-"

"Philippe, you're so overly dramatic," she scoffed, only to smile at him seconds later, tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, Philippe, I thought I'd lost you!"

"No…no, you haven't. I lost myself for a bit, but I shall never abandon you, not like this, not ever again," he vowed, embracing her tightly. "Forgive me?"

"Yes…but only if you kiss me. You need to be able to prove you're sorry," she smirked.

He chuckled, leaning in and tickling her with his moustache. "I wouldn't have it any other way…"

~OG~

Angelique ran blindly through the darkened halls and passages, her tears blurring her vision as she hurried home. Sneaking through the hidden tunnel, she arrived at Erik's underground house in record time, her lungs ready to burst from running and crying. Frantically, she tugged and turned at the handle, yanking it open and slamming it as she ran inside.

"Angelique? Is that you, dearest?" Erik's voice floated from his room. He stepped out moments later, adjusting his mask over his face. "What on earth is-? Oof!" He nearly fell over from the collision as Angelique attacked him, burying her face into his chest as she wept. Instantly, he panicked, grabbing her shoulders and struggling to pull her back to get a good look at her. "Angelique, what's happened-?!"

"Dead," she sobbed, falling to her knees. "He's dead…I never ever got to see him once…I should have gone…oh, Erik!" she sobbed, crushing the letter in her grasp.

Kneeling before her, he managed to tug the paper from her hands and read through it, his heart sinking as he realized who she was talking about. "…My dear Angel…I am so sorry…" He wrapped his arms around her, letting her cling to him as she continued to cry, mourning the loss of the only relative she had left on this earth. He stroked her hair and hummed to her, gathering her in his arms and taking her to her room, setting her down slowly upon the bed, all the while still holding her to his chest. He said nothing, knowing that there was nothing he could say to better the situation…all he knew was that she needed someone, and he would be there for her as long as she needed.

After a time, he felt her nod off, resting in his arms. Certain that she would be deep in sleep, he began to lay her down when she jolted awake and grabbed him, making him yelp in surprise. "Mon ange, are you all right?!"

"Erik…Erik, I'm so sorry, I was just…" She stopped herself, taking a deep breath before looking him in the eyes, her face stained with hot tears, her eyes red from crying. "…I have to go, Erik. At least just for the funeral-!"

"You must leave at once," he nodded, setting her down again. "Erik shall make the arrangements-"

"Will you come?" she whispered, new tears spilling forth.

"M-Me? But, I-" he stammered, imagining a fiasco the moment he stepped out into the open country air.

"Please, Erik? At least come with me to his house…you don't have to go to the funeral, I know it's uncomfortable for you…" Her voice cracked several times as she fought the urge to cry, tugging at his heartstrings.

Erik sighed as he shook his head. "Erik is becoming much too soft…" "Of course Erik will go with you, even to the funeral, one way or another." She tried to smile but instead started to cry even more, grasping at his hand as he softly caressed her cheek. "Shall Erik give you a moment alone-?"

"Stay," she begged, making his heart pound faster despite his best efforts.

"Very well, dearest. Erik shall get a chair-"

"No," she shook her head. "Here, on the bed…lie down with me?"

"Eh?!" he gaped at her, his face going bright red.

She appeared to have read his thoughts, her own face turning as red as an apple. "No! Not like that, Erik, just…lie down next to me. I just…I need to hold on to you…nothing like that."

"O-Of course n-not," he shook his head, his blood racing within his veins. He obliged, however, lying beside her and allowing her to snuggle against him, her face buried in his chest. He stiffened a bit, realizing too late that after he had come home, he had undressed into a half-way buttoned shirt, slacks, and his slippers, his torso covered with his silk robe. "Mon Dieu, she'll be the death of me," he thought, half-exasperated, half-intoxicated by the feel of her nose and lips occasionally brushing against his bare chest, her body pressed against his as she continued to cry in an effort to calm down. Eager to distract himself, he continued to play with her hair, singing to her all the while soft serenades of some of the best operas, until he felt her slowly drift off, her warm breath tickling his chest. Resting his head upon hers, he felt himself becoming quite comfortable with his current position, slowly drifting off to join Angelique in slumber land.