Marjorie sat politely with her hands folded in her lap. Her sister-in-laws gushed and gossiped about the latest scandals in the society while Marjorie just listened. She hadn't the slightest idea who they were talking about, nor did she even care; she was still thinking of her dream.

The room fell silent and she felt three sets of eyes looking at her. Her cheeks turned bright red when she realized she was asked a question. "I'm sorry, what was that? I must have been daydreaming."

Lucien's wife, Charlotte, leaned forward. "I asked if you would like to get to know the dashing Monsieur Charles LeBlanc. I hear he is looking for a wife, now that he's taken over his father's business."

Celine rolled her eyes and looked at Charlotte. "Did you not listen to anything I had just said? Marjorie's already in a courtship."

"Oh! Is he handsome? What's his name?" That was Henri's wife, Emilie. She was Swedish and the youngest of the wives. She was the quietest as well.

"What does he do? Is he of any nobility?" Charlotte looked just as intrigued as Emilie. Obviously neither of them had listened to Celine.

"His name is Erik. I think he is very handsome." A deep blush settled across her face.

Celine piped up then, begging for the attention of the girls. "He wears a mask. This horrid stark white thing. It's fascinating! He's very mysterious. He's a magician as well! And he was going to be executed by the Shah of Persia! Right, Marjorie?"

The girls gaped at Celine and were sent into a flurry of babble, asking about Erik. As much as Marjorie liked Celine, her attitude about Erik made her furious. She made him up into some sort of freak. Her cheeks grew even redder with anger.

"He's an architect and composer. Yes, he used to be a magician, but not any longer. those days are far behind him. The Shah only wanted to kill him because he wanted no one else to hav. e a palace as grand as the one Erik made. He has been judged and persecuted his entire life for soMething out of his command. Erik wears his mask for a reason, and I will not allow him to be judged for it, especially by you three." Marjorie stood from the sofa and walked out of the room. She was sick of their rancid gossip anyway.

She headed towards the front door and flung it open with a force she didn't quite expect. Standing with his hand ready to knock was a scrawny boy holding a piece of paper. He stared at Marjorie in surprise. "Telegram for Monsieur Marc Poirier?"

Marjorie took the paper from the boy and thanked him. She noticed it was from Paris. It was probably some business proposition or something equally boring. She unfolded the paper anyway. She was bored and had nothing better to do.

Monsieur-

I have changed my plans and will be visiting Nice as well STOP I hope you do not mind STOP I will be there by the 24th STOP I hope to go through with it as planned STOP Please keep it from your sister STOP

-E

She stared down at the letter. She couldn't possibly understand what some of it. But the letter talked about her, after all she was the only sister. Was her brother keeping something from her? And who was this E that was visiting?

Erik's POV

I kept dozing off every few minutes, my head falling against the window. It was very late, but I didn't want to sleep. I just wanted to see Marjorie. I wished it was Christmas already. I couldn't deny that I was completely giddy. I had everything planned perfectly, down to the tie I would wear. I was sure I had everything ready. I had even gone to the cemetery to "speak" with her father.

It wouldn't feel right any other way. I had taken Caesar and returned to the Poirier grave. It was quite cold, but I had left Marjorie wrapped in my cloak, so I made do with a thin old one. The snow crunched with each step as I walked towards the mausoleum. Carefully, I placed a rose between the two names. I obviously hadn't known them, but I felt it would be disrespectful if I had come empty handed.

The stone was cold, but I sat on the granite stairs anyway. I was ridiculously nervous for some reason. I wasn't sure if they were even listening. I didn't even know if that was possible. But still, I sat up and cleared my throat. "Monsieur Poirier. Madame Poirier." I stood from the spot restlessly. "I have come here to make...a proposition."

I slowly began to pace in front of the tomb, a terrible habit of mine. "I have spent the last few months with Marjorie, as I'm sure you know," Did they? "And she opened a side of me that I believed long forgotten, if even existent. She has helped me heal in nearly every way possible. My life is dedicated to her, even if she decides to turn away from me. She has taught me to love, and most of all, how to be loved. She accepted me when no one else ever has. She has kissed my face when not even my mother would." I wasn't sure if I was talking to her parents or myself anymore.

"She is like a candle burning in my darkness. She is my home, my friend, my mother, and my deepest love. She looked past a monster and found the angel trapped within me, if there ever was one. She is like an extension of myself. She filled the emptiness I've carried my whole life. She is my raison d'être. I love her. I would give her the whole world if I could. I would never let her go unhappy." I swallowed hard. "That is why I would like to request your blessing for her hand in marriage."

I stood there for a long time, just watching their grave. The huge weight had been lifted from my chest. I stood there as if I was waiting for an answer, although of course, one wouldn't come. But yet, I still waited as the snow fell upon my shoulders. Caesar had returned to my side and nudged my arm with his nose. I gave a final glance to the grave before returning to the opera house.