Chapter 24: Avoir des Dette.

"You never met my brother," Raoul said softly from his chair by the door. "But, he had been a good man and very smart."

Two of the women in the room looked at him coldly, but the third remained down with her head in her hands. Meg, sitting with Julianne on the piano bench hugged the young woman and stood up to get her some of the tea she had brought to the room. Standing next to a dresser in the other side of the apartment - as far away from her husband as she could, Christine watched her but didn't dare approach her or her daughter. She couldn't make herself comfort the stricken child, not after what she had almost made her do. She hugged herself and turned her eyes on her husband.
I don't know you any more, she thought bitterly. Somehow, somewhere we've lost each other.

"I never understood why Phillipe didn't marry," Raoul continued like a man who had lost all hope. "He was popular enough in society, was obviously very financially secure and kind enough to make me think that he wanted children of his own." The man shrugged and sighed. "It's irrelevant now really. The fact that he never married made life very easy for me. I didn't have to think about money, because he was there to do it for me. We never made provision or preparation that he would not be around to take care of me." Meg had placed a cup of tea in Julianne's hands, but the young woman made no attempt to drink it. Sighing softly, the ballet mistress put an arm around her shoulder again and resumed staring at Raoul coldly. The man had paused to watch them but at her gaze carried on quickly. "You have to understand," he begged, "my brother taught me everything that I needed to do to remain a popular figure in society, but he never taught me so much as a scratch of working with money. He never fully explained how our estates worked, where our assets were. What happened in the stock markets or… or anything. I was too young, busy…" He glanced at Christine who turned her face away from him. "In love. And then there was this business with the…" He stopped before Meg could stop him, his eyes returning to his daughter.

"The point is that, after my brother died, I made mistakes." He glanced at his hands, clenched them and shook his head. "Financial mistakes. They started small, selling stock instead of holding onto them. Buying assets when I should've focused on my capital. And, there are always expenses. Wages, taxes, repairs to the estates. We were still large patrons of the Opera, even after everything that happened here." Julianne stirred but didn't look up. "The mistakes started to add up over the years and pretty soon, I was loosing more money than I was making."
Christine looked at her husband for the first time, her eyes dark with desperate anger.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she queried. "Raoul, why keep this all from me?"

He looked like a scared child when his eyes brushed over hers, unable to hold her gaze out of shame. "I didn't want you… You were use to a certain standard of living. A life that I gave you. I didn't want you to think that I couldn't take care of you." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "And, you had other concerns. You had the boys and Julianne to take care of. I didn't want you to worry about unnecessary things."

There was a sharp crack followed by the heart stopping sound of a cup breaking. Christine had hit the dresser out of anger causing Julianne to jump and drop her cup. Nobody moved to pick it up though.
"Unnecessary things?!" Christine cried. "Raoul, this affected our family. And, don't blame me! A certain standard of living? My father was a sickly violinist! After his death I grew up in the Opera House where I was forever sharing my things and living in close quarters to dozens of people! I didn't care about our standard of living; I just cared about our family! Our life together! I didn't need pretty things! A good life! I just needed you!"

Raoul responded with his own anger as his light eyes blazed in defence. "You say that now," he snapped. "But you didn't just care about your family Christine. You were forever comparing, forever thinking of what your life would've been like if you had gone with him instead of me. Whenever you tended your roses, whenever you spend time with Julianne. You made me feel as if I had to prove that I could take better care of you than he could. Or, that I had to constantly keep you secure against him!"

Christine stood back shocked, then clenched her fist and pointed a finger at her husband. "Don't blame ghosts Raoul! Don't! This is no ghost's fault! This is you not trusting me! Don't lay your insecurities at my feet I…"

"Stop it!" Julianne's shout cut off her mother's, startling all of the people in the room as she stood up. Tears were running down her face as she turned her head between where she judged her two parents to be. "Stop it," she said softer. "I am the only ghost in this room! You talk over me as if I don't exist! Stop it."

Meg blinked then quickly touched Julianne's wrist. "Easy my pet," she said softly. "Please, easy." Julianne turned her head towards the woman and clenched her fist as if she meant to fight against her but then took a visible breath to calm herself and allowed the woman to pull her down again. She leaned forward before settling and picked up the dark cane. Meg rubbed her back then turned to Raoul.

"Reason's got nothing to do with it," she said softly. "Please, carry on. When did you approach Mackenzie?"

Raoul's gaze was that of a broken man when he looked at his daughter. Neither of the de Chagny's knew how to handle her anger. Guilt seemed to cease all action.
"He approached me," Raoul whispered defeated. "Or, his father did. First with advice, later with offers of help. I accepted his money before I saw the true price of it. Too late I realized that he and his son had played me. They would give me financial advice which would earn me a franc here and there, but in the long run would cost me plenty. I believed truly that François at least was a family friend. Then, his father died a few years ago and suddenly, all the debts had to be collected. Every single franc repaid. I had not kept track of how much he had given me and… I can tell you, the amount was an astronomical one." There was a bitter twist in his mouth. "I tried to bargain, tried to plea. I couldn't even sell some of the estates and I couldn't approach my sisters for help. I couldn't burden their family and I couldn't face them knowing that I had squandered our family fortune." His eyes turned to Meg. "You will understand this better than Christine would, but owing François Mackenzie money is like having him owe every last of bit of your flesh." He glanced at Julianne. "And kin." His mouth tightened. "You were al threatened. Christine, Julianne, dear Philibert and little Martine. He had the power to call terrible things down on you all. If it was just me I could've just let it be… But…" He stopped suddenly and closed his eyes. "I just couldn't do that to you."

Meg's mouth was tight when she shook her head sharply. "So you sold your daughter instead?" she asked bitterly.

Raoul frowned and shook his head sharply. "I didn't sell her," he said defensively. "It was more complicated than that. François had expressed an interested in Julianne from the beginning. There was a reasonable age difference between them and Julianne is… a beautiful young woman." The last was said with a lot of warmth and fondness. "She's funny, well mannered, talented. I thought that his interest was genuine. A year or two ago he came to me and said that he would annul all my debts if in turn he could have Julianne's hand in marriage. He would then also help the family so that the boys would each one day have something small to inherit. It was a good gesture and it would certainly have solved all our problems. I believe that it was a good chance for Julianne as well. As I told you," he glanced at Christine, "he would take care of her. It was a good marriage for her."

The room was quiet for a moment until Christine snorted bitterly and shook her head. "Two birds with one stone," she said scornfully, then looked at her husband pleadingly. "I still can't understand why Raoul," she said softly. "Just… Why? You could've told me. And how, how could you ever think of doing something like this to our daughter?"

Raoul opened his mouth and tried to meet his wife's eyes but couldn't. He dropped his head and clenched his hands again. "I thought his interest was genuine," he said again. "He stood nothing to gain from the marriage. His interest must've been for Julianne. There's nothing else." He frowned and looked up when he heard Meg sigh and shook her head.
"You're wrong Raoul," she said quietly, keeping her hand on Julianne's wrist. "He had a lot to gain, even if it wasn't material. The de Chagny name stands for something in certain circles. Even if he married your daughter would he have claim on the societies that open up for him. With Mackenzie, it's more than just financial gain. He plays a bigger game than that here. Not everything is about money in this world. And, Julianne is the perfect kind of wife for someone like him. He would be able to control her every move. Everything she has access to and Ann… Julianne would have to comply because there are some things that she just can't do by herself." She touched the young woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry for saying it that way ma cheri."

Julianne shook her head and touched her aunt's shoulder. "C'est rien Aunt," she said softly and stood up. Without acknowledging her parents she quietly left the room. Christine waited until her daughter closed the door behind her before she turned to Raoul.
"What would he do?" she queried. "If we tell him now that Julianne doesn't want to marry him? What will happen?"

Raoul sighed and closed his eyes. "Any number of things," he said. "And none of them pleasant. Especially for Julianne, the world is an unforgiving place towards those who are imperfect."

&

She went to the roof because there was no where else to go, the words of her father still ringing in her ears. His interest was genuine. It was a good match. The world is an unforgiving place…

She closed her eyes against the tears, trying to wish away the pain she was feeling. Why was everybody so obsessed with imperfection? Would that rule her life forever? And… Money?

She would never have thought, never have known that that was the reason behind her marriage with François Mackenzie, but in a quiet way it made sense. And, she could not believe her father. His interest was not genuine. How could it be? If it had been, he would've loved her.

Julianne pushed open the roof door, feeling the familiar breath of Paris on her face. She would've thought that her happiest moment in the Opera would've been the day she sang at the Gala evening, but instead she found that she cherished her moments on the roof the most. And Monsieur Erik…

When she had come here to find him the first time, barely an hour or two ago, she had been unsuccessful but now Julianne could clearly sense that there was somebody else present. She paused by the door and step forward hesitantly.
"Monsieur Erik?" she queried, carefully measuring the steps with her cane even if she knew them by heart. "Monsieur, is that you?"

There was a sound, a shifting of material. She smiled suddenly and stepped forward. He was the only one who sounded like that when he moved. "Monsieur, I'm so glad to find you I…"
"Leave me Ann."
Julianne stopped and frowned puzzled. "Monsieur?"

He shifted again as if turning away from her. Biting her lip she hesitantly made her way to him. "Monsieur, I need to talk to you."

He moved before she reached him, her cane telling her that she had touched his cloak or shoe before he moved out of her reach. "We all have things that we need Ann," he said with a bitterness she didn't associate with him. "It's not the way of the world to allow us what we want."
With her heart beating a rapid taboo in her chest, Julianne swallowed dryly, suddenly fighting tears. "Monsieur, what happened?" Had he found out? Was it something she did?

"You wouldn't understand."

Trying to push her own needs away, Julianne once again tried to judge where he was. "I may," she said softly. "I'm… your friend Monsieur. Please, tell me."

The bitter laugh was not his. "Friend?" he queried. "I have no friends. You are a silly little girl with a silly little talent. You wouldn't understand Ann because you cannot see. Now leave me, I have no time for you today."

There was finality in his words that she could not argue against.

Julianne found herself blinking painful tears. She sniffed and rubbed at her face with a shaky hand. "I…" She didn't know what to say. "I'm… sorry Monsieur." She bowed forward in his direction. "Please forgive me. I… Good bye Monsieur."

She waited, prayed that he would say something in return but when there was no reply she turned around, tears streaming down her face, and carefully made her way off of the roof.

&

They were still talking, still uselessly trying to find a way out of this dilemma. More words had been exchanged. Angry words. Christine had never felt so betrayed in her life. It wasn't a comfortable feeling and guiltily she wondered suddenly how the Phantom must've felt when he thought she betrayed him with Raoul.
Which you had done, in the beginning…

She turned to Meg who had been sitting quietly on the piano bench, watching as she and Raoul exchanged bitter words.
"Did you know?" she asked accusingly. "Did you know about all of this?"

Meg sighed and shook her head. She was beginning to look more and more like her mother. "I suspected," she said. "There had been… Rumours. Nothing concrete but, when you listen…" She shrugged and made a vague motion with her hand. "I had been suspicious when you told me that François Mackenzie wanted to marry Julianne. He didn't feel like the kind of man who would associate himself with someone in her disposition. And, I've known for years that Raoul had stopped being a sponsor of the Opera. It hadn't made sense really, because he had still given money after your marriage. Things were following an all too familiar pattern. I never knew but, as I said, I had suspected."

Christine's eyes were just as accusing as they had been for Raoul. "You should've told me," she pointed out bitterly but Meg shook her head.
"It wasn't my place," she said simply. "I couldn't interfere with your marriage."
Raoul snorted and glared at her. "But you could interfere with Julianne's."

Meg returned the glare easily. "I never encouraged her," she said self-righteously. "I merely made sure that she didn't hurt herself. She had been pretty determined to come here, I just made sure she got here in one piece."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the two parents looked at each other. Christine swallowed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "She spoke of a guardian angel in almost all her letters," she said cautiously. "Meg, has she met anybody here?"

The ballet mistress snorted and shook her head. "If she has," she said dry, "she hasn't been open about it. In that way, she is your daughter."
Christine made an indignant sound. "I never kept any secrets from you! I told you about the Phantom!" Naming him brought a sudden chill to the room but Meg ignored it as she shook her head.

"Not in the beginning," she said heatedly. "You kept your secrets close Christine. You only told me about him after Hannibal, that night in the chapel. Never before that. Never. I always knew that you disappeared and sometimes, sometimes I imagined hearing someone singing to you softly when you were on your own. But, you never told me about any of it. Never a whisper, never a hint." The betrayal in her voice was unmistakable. Christine stepped back against the wall as if she had been slapped, unable to think of anything to say. Meg in turn didn't say anything to make her words lighter, but stared at her blankly until the door opened.
All three turned to see Julianne enter, her face painted with tears. She didn't speak immediately but stood in the middle of the room, turning her dark cane over and over in her hands.
"Enough," she whispered softly then cleared her throat and spoke louder. "You can all be quiet. Please. I'll marry him. This was never meant to be permanent; I only came to the Opera to see a little bit of the world, not to avoid my… duty. If I can do this for my family then so be it. I'll marry François Mackenzie."
A wave of silence followed in the wake of her words. A mixture of horrified relief crossed Raoul's features. He made to stand up to go towards his daughter but both his wife and Meg's furious glares stopped him. Christine too tried to approach her daughter but stopped. She looked shocked, unable to comprehend what she heard and looked at her childhood friend to see her reaction. Meg too was shocked to silence, but instead of shock and relief, her face was painted with fury. She stood up to say something but Julianne's face snapped towards hers.
"Leave it Aunt," she said softly. "Don't make it harder for me. This is my choice, please… Please respect it. My life here was an illusion as you said. It's time to face the truth." She sighed softly and glanced at her parents. "I have to say good bye to a few people. Could you give me an hour maybe? I understand that you do not like to be here so you can go somewhere else for the time being. We'll wait for you at the steps. Aunt Meg, will you come with me please?" She moved without waiting for a reply, as if merely stopping to listen or hear their reactions would sway her in her choice. Meg moved mechanically, too stunned to speak. She couldn't even find the reserves to glare at the two remaining de Chagny's. She followed Julianne quickly, before the girl disappeared. By the time she closed the door behind her, the young woman was already at the end of the corridor.

"Julianne, wait!" she said quickly and trotted after her ward. "Child, please just wait for a moment!"

At first it appeared as if Julianne wouldn't stop but then, without warning she halted dead and leaned against the wall, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Reaching her, Meg touched her shoulder, making a soothing sound.
"This is madness Julianne!" she said desperately. "You can't marry him. You can't! You decided that you wouldn't. That was your choice, you cannot just change your mind!"

Julianne's face was twisted in pain as she clutched her cane to her chest. "I have to," she breathed. "Aunt Meg, for my family I have to! And… And…" She closed her eyes and tried to control her sobbing. "I cannot stay here. How can I?" She swallowed and shook her head. "No Aunt Meg, please. I… I only need to say good bye to Helena. But, even that can wait. I… I need you to help me write a letter."

Meg frowned and nodded, remembering too late that Julianne couldn't see the gesture. "Of course," she said instead. "Of course ma cheri, I will help you."
Julianne nodded to herself and took a deep breath. "I need you to promise to tell no one," she said softly. "Not even my parents. I am breaking a promise… but it can't be help. I have to say good bye to him and he won't listen…"
Meg took an uncontrolled step back, her blood running cold.

"Him?"

&

Exactly an hour later, Mademoiselle Megan Giry watched as Julianne Christine de Chagny turned her head in the Opera's direction one last time before the coach driver pulled away. She was leaving, forever. Meg wasn't even sure when she would be allowed to see her again. She couldn't say good bye though, could not put that burden on Julianne when she was already forced to carry so much.

It would've been fair though, she thought suddenly. The child had put an even heavier one on her shoulders.

"Take it to the roof," had been Julianne's last desperate plea towards the woman who had taken care of her while the opera had been her home. "Promise me Aunt, promise me you will take it to the roof."

Meg's hand touched the letter in an inner pocket fold in her dress. How could she make that promise? How?
"It's not that easy is it?"

She whirled around to see her mother standing behind her. There was a sad light in the woman's eyes, but also – it looked as if a burden had been lifted. Like a ship that had lifted its anchor on a calm sea, Madam Antoinette Giry seemed to drift around freely in the turbulence around her.

"What?" Meg managed, her mouth dry.
The sad light sharpened as Madam Giry looked up to the retreating coach then, in a second, glanced at the roof. "Seeing someone you love pulled along by forces beyond your control."

The letter crackled as Meg's hand tightened on it. "It seemed pretty easy for you!" she snapped. "All those years, letting Christine be taken by that monster. And now… Now her daughter… Now Julianne… My Ann…"

Madam Giry's eyes travelled to where Meg's hand was clenched in her pocket. "That letter is for him?"

The younger woman stared at her mother before she glanced up at the roof and pulled her inside. "Yes!" she snapped as soon as they were inside, her voice echoing through the empty foyer. "And you do not even look surprised!"

Madam Giry sighed and shifted her weight away from her bad hip. "From what you've been telling me Megan, I'm surprised that you are. You told me as much the day I arrived."
Meg pulled the letter out of her pocket and held it under her mother's nose. "But it wasn't confirmed!" she said. "But this… This! She wants me to deliver it to a man wearing a mask." Her hands were shaking uncontrollably but Madam Giry paid it no mind.
"Then if it is for him," she said calmly and started turning around, "then I suggest you take it. It will do no good to linger Megan."

She meant to walk away but Meg's words stopped her. "I won't take it!" the younger woman snapped. "I will not carry this forward!" She crumbled the letter. "You take it! You know him! This is your doing! It has been from the start!"

Madam Giry smiled ruefully and turned sideways to glance at her daughter. "My doing?" she queried softly. "My dear daughter. No, it was not my doing. If you wish to assign blame, look to yourself. You brought Julianne here, no matter how you try to justify your actions to yourself. Your reasons are your own, it is not my place to judge you – as it is not your place to judge me. I always did what's best for you, and it is time that you come to understand that."

Meg shook her head fiercely. "I didn't start this," she snapped. "You did, twenty, thirty years ago by allowing that monster near Christine. Life would've been so different without him."

There was a sad light in Antoinette Giry's eyes as she turned around and walked to her daughter. "Yes," she said gently. "For one, I would not have had you."

Meg blinked shocked, gaping at her mother. The woman used her silence to carry on speaking as she reached up and gently caressed her daughter's cheek.
"You have to take that letter Meg," she said softly, "because this is your legacy as much as it is Christine's, Raoul's or even Julianne's. You are woven into this story even if you have felt apart of it your whole life. And, it is finally time for you to understand that and take the responsibility of your actions."

Meg took an uncontrolled step back away from her mother. "What do you mean?"

Her mother looked up beyond her and sighed softly.
"Years ago," she said softly. "I rescued a man from the cruel fate his face bestowed on him. The only payment I ever asked from him was to take care of you, my child. I didn't think about this request again, nor did I think that he would take it seriously. But then, weeks after he found his way here, a month after I brought Christine to the Opera, I found you, crying in his arms. I thought terrible things of him in that moment, hated him and vowed that I would make sure that he was found. Then, when you calmed down, it turned out that he saved you from a fall that would've killed you. I think that you are too young to remember this, my dear." Meg took another step back, her hand clutched over her chest. Her mother's eyes bore into hers. "Because he saved you," the woman continued calmly, "and because I had… Betrayed him in a way by accusing him of hurting you, I promised my life to him. And, of course, yours – because it belonged to him. I had vowed to him, all those years ago, that I will take care of him until you could take over that duty from me. Not only that, but I became his eyes and ears, his… servant perhaps, though it was more than that."

Meg took another step back, gaping at her mother in horror.
"You cannot blame me for this," she breathed. "You had not right to promise me… I should not take this forward!"

Madam Giry shrugged, her eyes never leaving her daughter's. "Perhaps if you had never brought Julianne here then yes, then we would've left it. I would've left it and he wouldn't have held you to my promise." Her eyes grew sharper. "But, you already carried this forward Meg. You already made that choice. Now, this responsibility is yours. I have told him already, I will not be a part of this. This is not my legacy anymore. You took it up when you brought the daughter of Christine Daae and Raoul de Chagny to this Opera house. When your actions ultimately led them back here."

She turned around suddenly, and started walking away. As if her mother's eyes had been the force keeping her up, Meg found her knees collapsing under her.

"I cannot force you to take the letter to him," her mother continued without turning around. "Ultimately, I guess that it is your choice. But, ma cheri, you will find that this duty, this depth, is an undeniable force. It is an act already written…"

&

To Be Continued…