Chapter 26

The applause from the audience still rung in Charles's ears, even though nearly a full hour had passed since the holiday concert had completed. In the heat of the packed room, he fought to keep the blush of his cheeks from showing. Everywhere he turned, another hand extended to congratulate him on a spellbinding performance. In the jostling crowd, he struggled to keep at Erik's side.

Somehow, his father was doing a remarkable job of concealing his fatigue. Damrosch had requested several pieces with Erik on the organ's throne. One special one in particular. A duet between father and son. Charles's work had directly followed the intermission to an uproarious applause. By now his arm was aching from all the handshaking.

Erik leaned on the cane and reached back for Charles's shoulder in mid conversation. "That work you heard was entirely his own."

Charles bowed his head. "Not without consulting a true maestro."

"You are closer to having earned that title than you know." He nodded his head and lifted the glass of champagne in a toast. He placed the empty glass on a waiter's platter.

The gentleman he had speaking with reached out and clasped his hand warmly. "Maestro Erik, it has been a sublime pleasure. Enjoy your evening."

Charles waited long enough for the man to depart before adjusting his cravat. It suddenly felt too tight. "I'm not certain I will ever get used to this."

Erik chuckled softly. "If a man as inherently shy as myself can, you are more than capable."

"Shy? You?"

He nodded. "Or have you forgotten that it was you who, many a year ago, gave me the courage to walk onto the stage." He brushed his fingers on the signature nightingale-patterned mask he wore specifically for concerts ever since young Charles had made him the first one.

Charles was about to reply when a man close to his age stepped between them and clasped Erik's gloved hand without preamble.

Erik started for a moment, the normally warm gesture stiff with surprise.

"Maestro Erik. My my, what a privilege this is to meet a man of your esteem." He stared directly into the eyes of Erik's mask. "Oh, you don't know me. My name is Michael Perth and I have been simply spellbound by your playing from the first I heard about your remarkable talents."

Erik allowed the incessant hand shaking to continue until Michael fell silent. Then he pried the man's grip from his hand and resumed that cold, detached air he reserved for the outside world. "Thank you, Mr. Perth. But I was not the only musician on the stage this evening. It would be rude of me to take credit."

"Nonsense." Michael moved a step closer.

A strange gleam in the man's eyes, perhaps a trick of the light, caused Charles to hover near Erik's shoulder. He moved just off to the side of the space between them and silently stared at the impertinent man.

"Maestro, you are an absolute architect in this hall." Michael stooped, close to kneeling before him. "You are a true master in this realm. If I but learned an instrument, I would do anything to become your student. Anything to be beside you."

Erik's fingers tightened on the cane.

A chill went up Charles's spine, something wasn't right. He pressed between them. "Maestro Erik has a full list of pupils."

"Oh." Michael only glanced at Charles before locking his gaze back on Erik. "Oh yes, of course he would. I was just wanting to express my gratitude for how much he has effected my life."

"It's been a long day with the concerts. Now, if you will excuse us, we must be going home." Charles held his breath until he heard the first tap of Erik's cane moving off behind him. A fair distance into the crowd he looked back and found the young man still watching.

"What an odd individual."

Erik glanced sideways and smirked, "You'll meet many just like him, my son. The world is full of them."

Snow drifted outside the window of Erik's study. He watched the delicate dance as he played a merry tune on his Stradivarius, ushering in the first afternoon of the new year.

Nadir glanced up from his seat before the hearth. "I must say, it is good to hear you playing again. The holiday concerts last week were marvelous."

Erik didn't even miss a stroke. "Charles has become quite the conversation piece at the hall."

"Well, yes." Nadir shifted his still healing leg. "But so is your contribution on the organ."

The response was a noncommittal noise. Erik was far too engrossed in playing his violin.

"As good as it is to hear the organ, I suspect that the audience would love to hear your Stradivarius again."

"That's never going to happen, Nadir." He finished the piece and reverently laid the instrument back in her case. With a rough tug he pulled the cuffs of his jacket over the scars on his wrist. "You know the reason why."

Nadir leaned back with a sign. "It is a shame."

"A shame I intend to keep quite private, thank you very much." He stirred the fire in the hearth with a poker and replaced the gate. "Miracle enough that the public believes that I spent all that time in Europe. There is little cause to jeopardize that now."

"Speaking of secrets." Nadir took a sip of his whiskey and offered him a grin. "How is Charles doing down at the hall so far as being the perfect gentleman? Anymore … sneaking around?"

Erik chuckled softly. "I caught him trying to sneak a few moments with Simonetta before the holiday concerts. The clever boy. The moment the door opened they both stiffened and feigned a music lesson. I believe he thought I was her governess."

"This must be torture for him. To be see her everyday and yet to have to be patient. The worst thing in the world."

"Like having your one desire on the other side of a mirror." Erik replied distantly.

Nadir blanched. "I … I'm sorry. I didn't mean … "

He sighed. "That's why I find it so difficult to intervene. I know intimately what he's going through. Fortunately, a few more years and I should have restored my estate without anyone being the wiser. Then, with his inheritance, he can approach Chantelli."

The fire's crackle filled the silence. Both men watched the flames idly, until they nodded off in the warmth.

The front door slamming rousted Erik. He lifted his head to the rushed footsteps up the stairs. A moment later Charles stormed into the study, snowflakes clinging to his jacket. He clasped a newspaper in his hand, eyes wild as he towered over Erik.

"Be patient, you said!" His nostrils flared with each breath. "Just be a gentleman and I'll get to spend the rest of my life with her. Well, no thanks to you, her father just said I will never see her again!"

Erik tried to stand, but Charles thrust the paper against his chest, forcing him roughly back into the couch.

"Why did I have to be your son?" He fled the room. A moment later his own bedroom door slammed.

Perplexed, Erik reached down and unfolded the paper.

Nadir blinked. "What was that all about?"

"I have no id … ea." Erik froze, his gaze locked on a page. His fingers crumpled the edges as his hands shook. "That son of a—!"

Unable to see what he was fixated with, Nadir cocked his head. "What is the matter?"

"I swear no corner of this earth will hide that man from my wrath! Oath or not, I will make him pay!"

"Erik, what are you talking about?"

He wrenched himself from the couch and seized his cane. The paper lay discarded on the floor, a large column ran nearly the full length of the second page. The title, 'The Curious Monstrosity of Manhattan'. How many had seen this? Erik fumed as he made his way out the door on a path to Carnegie Hall. That damn doctor hadn't written his name, but he may as well have. The physical description alone identified him.

Damage control. He had to get this under control before it impacted Carnegie Hall. Then he had to go chat with Chantelli and smooth things over. After all, not everything in the newspaper was true. Surely Chantelli knew that.

The fool! That stupid foolish doctor had blabbed about what he called the procedure of the century. Written at length about how insane the patient had been. How Erik had been reduced to a crazed lunatic chained in his own cellar. The level of detail was staggering—including what lie beneath his mask.

Erik pushed the door of Carnegie Hall open to a small crowd. Patrons who had just a few nights before lauded him for the holiday music. Now they averted their gazes and swiftly deserted the corridor.

Whispers followed him up the stairs as he searched for Damrosch. A couple left his office, their cheeks flushed red with anger. The moment they spotted Erik they glared at him. The man held out his cane to ward him off. "You never get near my son again! Lunatics like you should be locked up and the key thrown away!"

Damrosch rushed to the door, "Mr. and Mrs. Penfold, please … let's not be hasty!"

Penfold shot him a vile look before taking his wife's arm and departing without another word.

"Come inside." Damrosch's shoulders fell. "We have to talk." The man looked as though someone had exorcised him.

Erik shut the door but refused to take a seat even as Damrosch collapsed into his own.

"All morning. Every time I think I saw the last of it, another walks in and screams at me." Damrosch's hand fell on a pile of morning papers. All the same edition, all open to the same damning article.

"That article was entirely uncalled for. I will find him and—"

"And what, Erik?" He looked up wearily. "What can be done? The secret we have fought so bitterly to keep is printed in black and white. It took no less than an hour for the public to make the connection with you. Already every one of your pupils has been barred from interacting. And I fear that if you take the stage … " his voice faded.

Erik's fury abandoned him. He swayed before crumpling into the chair. If he had been forced to stand before the whole of Manhattan and pry off his mask, he swore the blow would be no less brutal.

They knew.

The public knew. Every literate person who could afford to purchase a paper knew his hideous secret. He grasped his cane and fought to steady his breathing. And failed.

The panic continued to well.

Damrosch stood before him, hands on his shoulders. "Erik. Listen to me. Erik, please."

He blinked and met the gaze.

"I'll walk you home. Right now, until I can get this sorted out, you need to stay away from here. I'm sorry. But you know how rumors are."

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the cane. "Oh, I am intricately familiar with the poison of rumor. That doctor has no idea what he has done. How much he has destroyed in his crowing. The wretch has ruined me!"

"Calm down. We can fix this."

"Fix this?" Erik surged up from the chair. "Fix this? Damrosch, there is no possible way to barricade public curiosity and ridicule now. Just lock me up!" he snarled as he tore open the door. "Do not bother walking me home, I would not want you tarnishing your reputation by association with a monstrosity."

Erik longed to scream out his rage as he stalked the length of his study. The sun had set hours ago. The world was at peace, regardless of his restless fury.

"I have to find that man! Where did Christine say he was from? Boston? Perhaps I'll take my mallet and chisel to his skull!"

He growled and rounded on the hearth. There, neatly displayed in the twin holders, lay his dress sword. A finely crafted sabre … years since she tasted blood. He reached up and grasped her hilt. She settled into his left hand, made for his grip.

"The blade." He let his eyes rove over her fierce phoenix pommel all the way to the tip of her polished steel. "A fitting end for a surgeon."

Slowly he drew her down and held her out before him. The blade a horizontal threat to the thin air. Vengeance would be …

His breath caught in his throat. The tip of the sabre danced in an erratic path. He narrowed his eyes fighting to still it. His arm was a solid piece of steel fused to the sword, became his mantra.

A mantra that failed.

The tremor continued to build until his arm fell at his side. His eyes clenched tight as he suppressed the urge to cry out.

It was gone. In a flash, every chance to avenge that wretch's arrogance had been shamefully stripped away by the tremble of his hand.

He staggered the few steps to the couch and slumped down. It was a loss. A duel would be a failure and surely end in his death, even if the doctor was a coward.

Erik yanked the cravat from his neck, so hard the tack ricocheted across the floor. For now, he would have to rely on karma for the doctor. That fight could not possibly be carried out. Besides, he had more important issues to remedy at the moment.

His gaze drifted to Charles's closed door.

Issues that no blade could possibly resolve. He set the sword aside and stared into the flames.

"You should talk to him." Nadir leaned heavily on his crutch, sheltered by the study door frame.

"Christine has been handling that." Erik thumbed through a stack of papers on his desk. Finding the one he was looking for, he grasped his cane and began to pace the floor. "Besides, he flatly refuses to speak to me."

"Do you know how long it has been?"

He growled and stalked back to the desk. Shoving aside the stack of papers, he picked up the newest newspaper and snapped, "Over a month."

Cautiously, Nadir limped into the room. "You've become a recluse again."

"Not now."

"You haven't even gone downstairs since—"

"Not now!"

"Erik, hiding isn't helping anything. You need to—"

"Daroga!" He slammed his hands on the desk. "You need to comprehend that it is much worse than a foiled engagement! Before the doctor's case file being published, finances were already approaching the breaking the point. Since then, every brick in my carefully laid empire has been chiseled out of place by the bias of those who once held me as an esteemed colleague. The public is calling for me to be locked in an asylum."

"Now you're just being paranoid."

Erik snatched a few of letters from the desk and threw them at Nadir. He caught two, the rest fluttered to the floor. His eyes widened. His mouth opened and shut, speechless.

"Paranoid? Really? This entire situation was difficult enough without the mob insisting that I am threat to society." He slumped into the chair and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. "I am once more a prisoner in my own home! This is a disaster!"

Setting the rude letters on the desk, Nadir heaved a sigh. "You'll think of something. It's a good thing that the weather has been brutal enough to keep most of the elite inside their homes. Perhaps this whole affair will dwindle by spring."

Erik shook his head and tugged the untied cravat from his neck. He flung it onto the floor without a glance. "And perhaps by then I will be shackled in a cell."

"Christine would never allow that." Nadir sat on the edge of the desk. "Let the winter take the sting out of the rumors. Somehow we will repair your reputation."

He pushed up from the desk and seized his cane. With a scowl, he made for the staircase.

"Erik, where are you going?"

"To the cellar." He paused long enough to glare back at his hobbled friend. "Before I commit some act I might regret."