25.
Raoul de Chagny followed the men back into the parlor. The little maid they called Fannie still looked flummoxed over the events. She spun smartly on her heels and fled in the direction that must be the kitchen.
In the Phantom's chair sat the diminutive figure of the neighbor woman. She sipped from a glass, her other hand clasping a lace edged handkerchief to her bosom. From the bubbles and the golden color, Raoul assessed the Vachon's were serving a champagne aperitif. The little maid appeared at the edge of the dining room with a tray and three glasses. Raoul took his glass and glanced down at his wife. Christine smiled up at him and raised hers in a private toast.
Madame Aulin peered up at the Phantom. "You are very pale. Is it dreadfully cold outside?"
Christine, who just raised her glass to her lips, dropped it, coughing behind her hand. He set a hand on her back, but she appeared to need no assistance. Everyone else took a sip of their aperitif, glancing at one another.
The Phantom regarded the woman. "It's never too cold to come to the service of a neighbor."
From where he stood, Raoul believed the entire room let out a breath. Previously blank faces warmed with small smiles.
"Oh!" Madame Aulin groaned. "Villainy. Skulduggery. Crime is rampant in Paris."
"Do you have family here?" Mirielle asked.
"Yes, but one son is in Britain and my daughter has moved south."
"The south of France?"
"No. She's three streets away." Madame Aulin leaned forward a little as she brought her glass to her lips.
The Persian asked, "Will you be all right if we escort you home?"
"Hmm? Yes. I'm fine. I was in my parlor reading when I saw the thief." She glanced down. "Where is my cane?"
The guests began looking around the woman's chair, but the Persian told her, "You did not have one with you, Madame."
"I didn't?"
"No. I'm sure of it."
"I was so frightened, I must have forgotten it."
Raoul noticed the Phantom looking down at his wife. As if he was capable of reading her thoughts, he cocked his head. A significant look passed between them.
"Madame," Mirielle began, "you are most welcome to sit and dine with us. We wouldn't want to hurry you home if those intruders might still be around."
Madame Aulin smiled, her little puckered face looking deceptively cherubic. "I don't want to impose…."
"Nonsense," Mirielle insisted. "We are just having a quiet little get together-."
From the kitchen came a loud honk.
"Bless you," Catherine said with a smirk. Mirielle's face took on a soft pink flush.
"Are you ill, dear?" The old woman adopted a concerned face.
"It's nothing," Mirielle replied. As Madame Aulin lifted her glass, the Phantom's wife stuck her tongue out at her friend. Christine covered a soft laugh.
"I'll let Anais know to set an extra plate." The Phantom headed for the kitchen with what looked like humor dancing in his strange eyes.
After his tall form disappeared, the little maid came out with a service and a plate.
Madame Aulin smiled sadly. "Maybe you contracted it from your husband. An illness, I say. He is dreadfully pale."
A piece of cutlery rattled against the plate the maid had placed on the table. Fannie was biting her lip as she stared down. Catherine and the Persian both wore outrageous grins, while Christine swirled her glass and took a larger than average tipple. Raoul was about to have a sip when the honk sounded again.
Christine glanced up at him, her pale brows arched. Raoul was leaning down to share the secret of the thief when the same creature popped through the dining room door.
Christine jumped up out of her seat. "A goose!"
Fannie dropped the last of the cutlery and gathered her skirts to step away from the table. The bird stood between her and the kitchen door which opened suddenly, framing the Phantom. He murmured, "We aren't taking on any more guests," as he reached for the bird.
The goose wasn't looking at the man, he had his eyes trained on the table. The Phantom swooped down on the bird and bore it upwards and through the door swiftly.
Christine stood cradling her glass. "A goose?"
"We're having goose?" Madame Aulin asked.
"Veal, actually." Mirielle replied.
Anais came from the kitchen, bearing a tray. "Canapé?" The Persian waited until Catherine selected one and helped himself. Christine resumed her seat as the maid approached. Raoul selected one and was surprised as the flavorful crab and lemon mixture.
The younger maid pushed open the kitchen door as if she expected something to leap through it. Looking inside, she slid silently out of the room and let the door close.
Raoul could hardly blame her for exercising caution in this household.
Erik and Gus herded the goose towards the back door. Fannie stood with her hand on the knob, ready to open it. Erik told Gus, "We'll keep Madame Aulin here."
"Good. I'll get the goose settled." Gus jammed his hat back on his head and picked up the goose.
Erik turned back towards the dining room as Gus went out the door. Fannie went to the door and peered out of the glass into the dark.
Raoul didn't try to hide his curiosity as he watched the oh so subtle interplay between the returning Phantom and Mirielle. Being a married man himself, he managed to communicate with Christine though familiarity. The Phantom's metamorphosis from anti-social madman to the hero of the opera and husband in such short order still made little sense. What strange forces must have interceded to bring this about?
Unless one believed in fairy stories, the weight of the man's years in hiding should have stripped him of the last of his humanity, twisted as it already was. But here he stood, patiently listening to the chatter in the room. His golden gaze roamed faces, even Christine's, but would return to his own wife's. His long fingers, that once held a malevolent, skeletal look, were gently griping the stem of his glass.
"Madame de Chagny was born in Sweden," the Persian informed the woman who was introduced to them as Mademoiselle Jardaux. She had insisted they call her Catherine.
"Do you have family here?" Catherine asked.
Christine shook her head. "My mother died when I was young. My Father passed on later."
"He was a violinist," Raoul added. "I remember him playing during the summer when my family went to Breton. It is where my wife and I met."
"What brought you to Paris?" Mirielle asked.
"I promised to attend the Conservatory," Christine replied. "I was employed by the opera…." Her voice trailed away.
Mirielle broke the ensuing silence. "And you will be the toast of Paris again."
"Here, here." Nadir raised his glass in a salute.
Christine dropped her right hand to her skirt. Sliding her fingers through the folds, Raoul reached to grasp them with a gentle squeeze. She glanced down, her dark lashes covering her sky-blue eyes. "I have the benefit of a good teacher."
"Nonsense," the Phantom said amiably. "Your career will hinge on your performance. As it should."
Christine appeared to add more, but he turned his visage towards the arriving maid who announced, "Dinner is served."
Raoul helped his wife to her feet. She smiled briefly and let him escort her to the table.
As the group gathered around the place settings, The Phantom took a place behind one of the tall arm chairs at one end. Mirielle swept to the opposite end and stood waiting. Nadir and Catherine had been placed along the opposite side from what Raoul presumed would be his and Christine's chairs. Nadir and Catherine milled beside theirs. Madame Aulin had been wedged in between.
Not so much as a look past between Nadir and Catherine, but Mirielle looked down the expanse of the table at her husband. The Phantom's eyes were illuminated with a vibrant brassy hue as he looked at his wife. Raoul guided Christine to their chairs and noticed her place card was directly to the Phantom's left, while his own was to Mirielle's right hand.
"I'm sorry," the Phantom said to Christine. "My left hand is dominant. I believe we shall be locking elbows all evening."
Raoul de Chagny knew as surely as the sun rose in the east that the nefarious criminal mastermind who occupied the head of the table was ambidextrous. He had witnessed it himself. He shot a glance at Nadir who seemed just as perplexed.
"I'm sorry darling," Mirielle replied. "Would Madame de Chagny prefer another chair?"
"I—I can switch with my husband."
"Catherine is left handed," the Phantom replied.
"Oh." Mirielle said softly with a lift of one dark brow.
"I 'd be glad to exchange places," Catherine piped in.
She stood back and moved towards the head of the table next to the Phantom. "But that places you bumping elbows with the Viscount," he observed.
"I'll switch places," volunteered Nadir. He and Catherine swiftly circumvented the chairs and the de Chagny's.
Raoul stepped aside. If they switched places, he and Christine would be bracketing the neighbor woman. And worse, Christine would still be in the chair closes to the Phantom. Deciding to alter the arrangement further, Raoul headed for the chair next to Erik Vachon.
The Phantom gifted him with a sickly smile that flashed so quickly, it was not unreasonable to doubt its sincerity. He toothily granted the Phantom one of his own.
Christine stood waiting for him to push in her chair. As Raoul stepped back to grasp it for her, the Phantom spoke up.
"Madame Aulin? Would you care to sit closer to the fire place?"
The little woman peered towards the mantel. "It would be warm, thank you." Raoul pulled her chair back for her. "These old bones do require a bracing fire," the older woman gushed.
The Phantom swept the other chair back and seated his neighbor. Raoul swiftly seated his wife next to Mirielle, and they all settled back in their chairs with a collective sigh.
As the first course came, a light, creamy Zucchini soup with a sprinkle of cheese on the top, accompanied by a Sauvignon, Raoul noticed Catherine and Nadir had no difficulties with dueling elbows during the service.