Chapter 29! Just one or two more to go.

Arabelle; aw...

what? there'll be an epilogue story. just don't worry about it, ok? trust me, things'll be pretty sweet in the next couple of chapters. Although, I should warn you, my dear readers, there will be a couple of characters you might remember from much earlier, two of whom are probably not fondly thought of...

Preparations


"Cody, how can you ask that of him?" Arabelle sighed. "All those people, and Papa's health... If something goes wrong -"

"Arabelle," Cody cut in gently, taking her shoulders. "Nothing will go wrong. It's a masquerade, of sorts. Aunt Jacqueline said they are quite popular in Europe. No one would have to know the reason for his mask. He could even wear a different one for the party."

Arabelle bit her lip, and glanced at the door to the study-turned-master bedroom. It was two thirty, and in a few minutes, she would be going to get Charles from school.

"'Belle, I hate upsetting you," he said. "You know that. But it is imperative that your family be there. Your Uncle Nadir and his daughter are more than welcome to come, and Jillianna, as well. Please, Arabelle. There's going to be a surprise at the party, and I do not want your family to miss it."

For a long moment, Arabelle searched Cody's eyes, then she sighed.

"Alright, I'll tell him," she replied. "But not yet. You said the dance is next week? I'll give him a few days to recover before I tell him about it."

Cody nodded, smiling soft and sweet.

"Of course, 'Belle," he whispered, kissing her softly. Arabelle responded in kind, but Cody pulled back. "I will not give your father reason to dislike me," he explained, and the playful look in his eyes made Arabelle laugh.

"Oh, Jill will love this!" she giggled. "I wonder if Mamma will let me wear her white dress? It hangs in the very back of her closet, and she never uses it. It got stained somehow, years ago, but I'm sure I could fix it up for the party!"

Cody smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Then I'll see you this Saturday, 'Belle," he said, and with a last parting smile and a squeeze of her hand, he left. After a moment, Arabelle ran out onto the porch.

"Cody!" she called. He was at the gate, and turned back to look at her. "I love you!"

The young man smiled, and Arabelle thought his dark skin made his smile even more dazzling.

"And I, you."

She watched until she could not see him anymore, then went back inside.

All her excitement and energy came to a dead halt when she saw the door to her parents' room. The old study had been just perfect; more toward the back of the house, so that the room was typically very quiet, and on the first floor. It was the perfect place for a bedroom.

Cautiously, Arabelle eased open the door, and looked in.

"Papa," she called softly.

"Hm?"

Arabelle smiled, and walked into the room.

"I'm going to pick up Charles, now, Papa," she said. "Mamma said she'd be home about seven tonight; I'll make us all dinner when I come back."

"Be safe, dear-heart," he sighed, sitting up to press a kiss to her cheek. Arabelle returned the gesture. She was about to leave when Erik spoke again.

"What did Cody want?" he asked, and there was a slight smile on his face - almost knowing.

At the mention of Cody's request, all her previous excitement came roaring back.

"Oh, Papa, he wants us all to go to one of his Aunt Jacqueline's parties in Farmington," she replied. "It's a masked dance, so no one would know the difference. He said it is very important that we all be there. I know you don't like crowds or parties, but please, Papa? He said something about a surprise, and -"

"And we'll all be there," Erik interrupted, still grinning. "Go and get your brother, now. Have you thought of a dress?"

Halfway to the door, Arabelle turned around, smiling broadly.

"If she'll let me, I was thinking I'd wear Mamma's old white dress!"


"Oh, Nadir, she can't! It'll kill him to see that dress again!"

Nadir sighed quietly.

"Then why did you keep it?" he asked. Christine covered her tear-stained face with her hands and made a frustrated noise.

"The one thing I didn't tell her!" she sobbed. "Oh, I don't even know why, Nadir! I suppose... well, the first time I wore it... was during a music lesson. We'd gone to the Bois de Boulogne... It was an utter disaster... But, then Erik said we ought to sing, and... he wanted me to wear the dress. He acted so strangely - of course, now I see it was lust, but I was so afraid for him, that night... He'd gotten so worked up over Raoul being at the Bois, and it had only been a short time after his first attack... I was so worried about him; I realized I loved him that night, Nadir... He looked so vulnerable - Oh, Nadir, she can't wear that dress!"

The elderly Persian stood up, and took Christine by the shoulders.

"Calm down, Christine," he said, his voice firm and commanding, though far from unkind. He looked her squarely in the eyes. "Does Erik know?"

"No!" Christine gasped. "Arabelle was asking about it when I came home. Erik mustn't know about the dress! Oh, he'll be furious, Nadir! I know he will!"

"To tell you the truth, mon coeur, I'm not upset about the dress."

With a squeak, Christine spun around. Erik stood in the doorway, unmasked, and looking exhausted. He was wearing just a pair of cotton pants - what he always wore to sleep - and in the light of the room, every shadow of skeletal thinness stood out starkly. There had been a time, not too long ago, when Erik had started to gain some weight finally. He'd still been much too thin, but the boney places on his body had softened just a bit. The attack that spring had put an end to that, though, and Christine was sure he was thinner now than he'd ever been beneath the Garnier.

He was leaning heavily against the doorway, and Christine hurried to him.

"Erik!" she hissed, wide-eyed and concerned. "I thought you were asleep! I didn't mean to wake you!"

"You didn't. What is this, Christine?"

His tone was completely level, but in his glimmering yellow eyes there was a barely restrained fury.

And deep, deep hurt.

Suddenly overcome by a sense that something horrible was about to happen if she didn't do something, Christine guided Erik to the couch and took his hand.

"Erik, please," she soothed, touching his bare cheek. "I'm sorry I've upset you. I only called Nadir over because..."

"Christine." Erik's voice was soft, but the anger was rising. "Christine."

Nadir took a step forward, concerned.

"Erik, my friend, calm down," he said. "Christine needed my help to -"

"I called him to come over because I needed help figuring out how to get rid of the wedding dress!"

Erik turned slowly to Christine, and now all she could see was confusion.

"What...?"

Christine looked away, blinked a few times, then turned back to her husband.

"The wedding dress, Erik," she explained. "I kept it after... afterward. I-I'm not sure why, only... I was wearing it when I realized I loved you." After a long moment, Christine sobbed, blinked, and looked back at Erik again. "Oh, Erik, Arabelle wants to wear that dress to Cody's party! She asked me about it at dinner, and all I could think of was Faust, and I knew you would remember that night, as well! Erik, it's -"

"It's alright," he said quietly. His lips twitched tiredly in a momentary wry smile. "She mentioned it to me shortly after the boy left... Let her wear it. She'll look like a vision in it, if it can be salvaged."

Christine sighed, and pressed her lips to Erik's. She buried her face in his neck.

"Oh, Erik..."


"What lace are you using, Arabelle?"

Arabelle looked up from the sewing machine Christine had bought long ago. Charles was standing on the sofa, barefoot, while Christine pinned and tugged at a dress suit he was wearing.

"Don't move, Charles," Christine warned, just managing to move a pin out of the way as Charles shifted his weight a bit.

"I think the store clerk said it was Shantung," she replied. "Or was it Battenbourg? I'm not entirely positive, Charles."

"How did it get stained, 'Belle?" Charles asked, peering at the dress the best he could from the sofa. Christine was behind and below him, so Charles did not see her stiffen, or her eyes flash in terror.

But Arabelle did.

"Never mind how, Charles," she sighed, thinking of that final untold secret and staring at her mother. "And especially don't ask Papa, whatever you do. He's had a hard enough time, lately."

Charles didn't say anything, but he did nod and back away. Arabelle was satisfied with that response.

"I promise, Charles, when you're old enough, you'll know."

Charles rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"I'm twelve years old, and no one tells me anything!" he grumbled. "I am old enough."

Arabelle stared at him for a moment, then got up from the sewing machine, and sat beside him on the couch.

"Oh, Charles," she sighed, gently touching the deformed half of his face. "It's not that I think you shouldn't know. Please, little brother, trust me when I say you'd wish I hadn't told you."

"But, 'Belle, I -"

"Don't, Charles!" Arabelle snapped. Then she took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes, there were tears and her voice was quiet and sad. "It's not something you want to know. It's Mamma and Papa's secret to tell, and I will not repeat it. I can't, Charles."

Charles was surprised by the intensity in his sister's soft voice. There was a certain desperation in her eyes that frightened him.

"I'm sorry, 'Belle," he whispered, looking away. Arabelle took his chin in her hand and brought his face up to look at her.

"It's alright, Charles," she said, smiling slightly. "It's just not a very pretty secret, that dress. I'm hoping I can make some better memories of it."

That was all that was said about the dress. Arabelle went back to sewing, and Christine sent Charles to play in his room. As she fed the fabric through the machine, all Arabelle could think of was what her mother had told her when she asked about the dress.

The truth - that their mother had once been so afraid of their father that she'd tried to kill herself to get away from him - had been heart-stopping. For one terrifying moment, Arabelle had been appalled by her mother - almost hated her. It sickened her that she'd felt that way about the woman who gave birth to her, but Christine's suicide attempt was also horrible. She understood that her father had been a very different person then, but had her mother been so different, too?

Looking at the dress, with its dim and faded bloodstain half-hidden by a layer of pale gold lace not entirely sewn on yet, she felt her insides clench, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she really ought to wear the dress. But Christine had assured her that Erik wanted her to wear it, so she would. And, once the lace was fully sewed on, the blood would be impossible to see. It would be like an entirely new dress.

Only now, in the silence of the room, did she remember that her mother was there. Arabelle looked up slowly, suddenly afraid that even the little she'd said was too much, but Christine was not looking at her; she was looking at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.

"Thank you," she said quietly, not looking up.


Arabelle giggled in quiet excitement.

"Yes, Jill!" she sighed. "Oh, it's going to be wonderful!"

Jillianna smiled.

"It is, ithn't it?" she agreed, poking through the clutter in a corner of the old curiosity shop. Arabelle was across the small space, looking at a display of fans. One fan was topped with fluffy golden feathers that shimmered in the sunlight. The wood they'd been tied and glued to was white with tiny, delicate gold designs painted on each stick, and Arabelle grinned at how perfect it was. She was just turning to show Jill when she saw the mask uncovered by the one the older girl held.

Arabelle hurried over and reached into the line of masks, coming up with a beautiful leather one. It was white, with flecks of gold paint here and there, and golden trim. On one side, it covered only the eye, but on the other, it sloped down into an elegant curl that would sit on the wearer's jawline. The corner that just went over the eye had a cluster of tasteful fake flowers, with a few gold feathers fanning out.

"What is it, 'Belle?" Charles asked, suddenly beside her. In her excitement over the mask, Arabelle had completely forgotten that her brother had come with them. She started, then laughed at herself.

"Look, Charles!" And she held the mask out for his inspection.

In the end, Jillianna and Charles also chose masks. Jill's was a soft, pale green, with silver trim and a sheer layer of shimmering silver glaze over the pistachio paper Mache. Charles's choice was a deep, regal blue, accented in gold, and hints of purple. Laughing brightly in excitement, Arabelle almost missed the black mask on a low shelf by the door.

At first glance, it appeared simple; it was made of stiffened cloth, and tied behind the head. On closer inspection, the eye holes were rimmed with almost-black red braiding, as was the whole shape of the mask. The fabric itself was some sort of brocade cloth, with embroidered swirls in in the same red-black silk. It covered the whole face, and it reminded Arabelle strongly of her father's black leather mask. She'd seen it several times, but never had she seen Erik wear it. This one was almost exactly like it in shape, and so very lovely. Arabelle could easily picture her father in the fabric mask, wearing some dashing costume of times long past, and the image was so handsome.

They'd bought their things already, but still, Arabelle turned back.

"How much is this mask?" she asked the store owner, walking to the counter.

The man looked at the mask for a long moment, then smiled at her.

"Fifty cents," he replied, and Arabelle smiled. Erik had given her five dollars to go with, and the other mask and the fan had only cost her thirty cents so far. Even with the second mask for Erik, she would not be spending quite a dollar.

All the way home, Arabelle thought about the mask she'd bought for her father. She'd thought of how he might take her buying the mask, and really couldn't see him reacting badly, because she knew how to present it, and how to behave and what to say while presenting it to him. Eighteen years, and a bond of blood had given her the advantage over someone not related to Erik, when it came to understanding him.

She couldn't wait to show him her lovely find, and she knew he would find it wonderful, as well.

"I think he's gonna love it," Charles said as the two siblings turned into their yard. Arabelle opened the gate, and held it while Charles walked through. Then she slipped by, and latched the wooden gate behind her.

"Oh, I know he will, Charles," Arabelle agreed, sharing a smile with her brother.


Erik was a bit taken aback by his daughter's gift. It was beautiful, truly. But the irony of her buying him a mask, for any reason, was bittersweet. It struck very close to home, and the memories of another woman, with the same face shape, but Christine's coloring, handing him another mask caused his throat to tighten.

Arabelle, who knew very little of Erik's childhood, did not quite pick up on the emotion, but Christine did, and she surreptitiously squeezed his hand.

Still, it was a pretty thing, and the innocent eagerness in his childrens' eyes reminded him of their intent. The look on Charles's face, especially, showed him there was no pretense - not that he didn't know that already, but it was always calming to have something he thought be confirmed as right.

Once they were alone, Christine took the mask and set it aside. The dance was the next evening, and Erik, sitting so heavily on the side of the bed, suddenly did not seem well enough at all to be going. He looked so much older, and more frail in that moment, and she was worried. She sat beside him, her beloved Erik, and lay a gentle hand on his arm.

"Are you alright, Erik?" Christine asked, her eyes dark with worry. Absently, the hand on his arm rubbed.

Erik let out a breath, and turned a tired smile to her. His sweet, good Christine.

"Of course, my love," he said quietly, wearily. "It's been a long day, is all..."

Christine thought back to how they'd spent the day; going through clothes to find something right for a pseudo-masquerade, and then Erik's refusal to let her go up into the hot attic alone to search a few trunks. They'd both found fitting costumes somewhere along the way, but the attic's heat, coupled with the two sets of stairs to come back down, had taken its toll on Erik, and when they'd first come downstairs again, he was gasping and shaking so that Christine was sure he was having another attack, but when she tried to get him to bed, he waved away her concern, and his strength had come back to him, slowly.

Now, Christine kissed his hollow cheek, and smiled gently at him.

"Then you ought to rest," she began, but even before she could think to continue that suggestion, Erik shook his head.

"No," he replied, standing stiffly. "It's only evening, Christine. Let's go sit with the children, hm? We won't have them borh around for very much longer."

Erik's words startled Christine. She stood, and clutched his arm, suddenly frightened by that final sentence.

"What do you mean, Erik?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light. Seeing the fear in her eyes, and realizing the misunderstanding, he chuckled.

"I'll tell you now, then," he laughed, "though it will spoil the surprise."

Christine's grip on his arm tightened.

"What surprise, Erik?" she asked. "What surprise?"

Again, Erik laughed, though not unkindly. He smiled, and patted the hand on his arm.

"Don't look so stricken, mon coeur," he sighed. Then he leaned in close, and whispered against Christine's ear; "Cody will ask Arabelle to marry him tomorrow night at the party."

"What?!" Christine clapped her hands over her mouth in excitement, then threw her arms around her husband. "Oh, this is wonderful!" she chirped, taking Erik's hand and following him to the door. There, Erik stopped, and put one long, boney finger to his lips.

"Remember," he whispered, golden eyes dancing. "Not a word." Christine nodded, giggling like a child, and Erik kissed her. Then he opened the door, and they went to join Arabelle and Charles in the front room.


Well, I'm not entirely happy with it, but every time I tried to rewrite a part, it came out worse. I guess this is the way the story wants to play out, so here it is. I hope you guys like it.

Arabelle; would someone please tell me what this 'surprise' is? Or at least, could you hurry up and get to it? I think Papa's going to have an aneurism, he's so worked up.

*chibi erik is bouncing up and down with a very excited look on his face*

Erik; my girl's growing up! Oddly, I'm not as angry at you as I should be.

that's because you love her and want her to be happy. now shh, and let the nice readers get on with their day. ;)

Review, please!