La Vie est Merveilleuse

by CJSeaborn1800

Erik tries to take his own life, but his plans don't go as he intended and he is shown his life was not worthless.Based on the Kay book. PLEASE RandR!

37. London Times

London Times

The picture appeared in the paper almost immediately. I supposed the story had been too good to wait for.

In truth I feared the whole thing. I never wanted fame, all I had ever asked for was indifference to my appearance and recognition of my talent where it was due. When Gemma handed me the paper I took it with slightly shaking hands.

There I was, my tall, dark form standing menacingly over Thomas Ford. Westwood was beside and a little behind me; a most respectable ally. I supposed it could have been worse; at least my face was not exposed.

Then I read the story. I was depicted as a self-made man who had amassed a sizable fortune over the years by being a wise businessman and an extremely skilful architect. I had to laugh at how the facts of my life had been glossed over; not that the writer of this semi fiction knew that. Still, it was amusing to see how my time serving the wicked Sultana of Persia and then soliciting money from opera managers had been turning into shrewd business and architectural skill.

The article also reported that by all accounts, Gemma and I were blissfully happy. Apparently, I was the kind of man smart women like Miss Chevalier would now attach themselves to because I did not rely on family money alone.

In a continued description of me, the paper stated that I was not given to fashions overmuch and hardly cared about the social scene accept as far as it would profit me in a business sense. I was not old, I was matured, and possibly that was just the kind of person Miss Chevalier would need hold her reins.

When I finished I decided that it was by far the most flattering, if not a bit ridiculous, thing I had ever read about myself.

"Well?" Gemma asked me, "What do you think?"

"It is not terrible I suppose," I said, "But there was nothing in here about Ford." I had thought that the whole point of this had been revenge against him.

"Look at the picture," Gemma pointed quickly, "You see what is written under it? 'Erik Bonheur tossed Tom Ford out of his hotel after he paid an unwanted visit to Gemma Chevalier'"

"Maybe you know better than I but I do not find that particularly awful," I looked doubtfully at it.

"Trust me Erik," Gemma put her arms around my waist, "He is on the ground rejected and you are the new social ideal."

That was certainly a twisted turn of events.

I supposed that this was largely a matter that Gemma had to deal with as she saw fit. She would probably do more to Ford than just this. I just had to trust her.

Christmas was now imminent. Nadir and Victoria were going to stay for the holiday. They could have left days ago, but as Gemma assured them it was no trouble to keep the room in the hotel for them, they seemed content to stay and enjoy their first weeks of married life.

Unfortunately, this was one of those times Gemma had warned me about when she would have to go to a party and I would have to attend. The Christmas Ball was something Gemma was almost contractually bound to go to as most of the people who used her in shows and in other adds would be there.

I was not excited about the prospect. I had been to a ball with her before and I had not enjoyed myself; I doubted very much that anything would have changed.

Still I would be going. Nadir and Victoria would be there as well so I would have some allies. In addition, The Westwood's along with Katharine and Daria were coming and I was growing more comfortable with them.

I repeated this to myself over and over again as I dressed on Christmas Eve; that it would not be so miserable. It was really the only way I could get through it.

Gemma had left the bedroom for a moment and I went to the hiding place where I had stored the box containing her necklace. I opened it and took out the chain, wondering when I should give it to her and hoping she would like it.

At that moment Gemma came into the room and I quickly stuffed the necklace into my pocket. She looked stunning as always in a red dress specially made for her just for this event.

"Erik, this letter just came for you," She handed me an envelop.

I did not know who sent it but I had the feeling that it would not be good news. I opened and read.

Dear Mr. Bonheur,

I apologize for the rush in which I write to you, so please forgive me if I forget some matters of decorum but time is of the essence. I am a priest in the town of Nottingham and have in my care a Marie Perrault. She claims to have known you, that you had been as a son to her. I know not if this is true but when she saw the picture of you in the paper recently she became adamant that she had cared for you as a child and that she had wished the duty of motherhood had fallen to her. I would not write you so, but poor Marie is in a weak state of health and may not live to see this New Year or even this Christmas. I know you are a man of importance and I am sorry for taking up some of your time but poor Marie had no other family and it does not seem right that the passing of such a lovely woman should go unnoticed by anyone that may have a connection to her. Please come and see her if you can,

Sincerely, Father MacFarlane

"What is the matter darling?" Gemma looked at my grave expression.

"I never told you about Marie?" I felt my throat tightening as I thought of the woman who had cared for me so in my wrenched childhood.

"No," Gemma looked at me suspiciously, "Who is she?"

"Oh no one you need to feel threatened by you stilly girl," I snapped at her a bit in my sorrow, "She was like a mother to me as a child, she was the only kindness I knew, and now she is dying and I…I must go and see her. She has no one else."

Gemma nodded and to my surprise, "Of course; where is she?"

"Nottingham,"

"Yes; that is outside of London. I shall ring the front desk; they will know if we can take a train. If not then we shall hire a carriage."

I stared at her, "You…you are coming?"

She looked at me in honest surprise, "I thought…I'm sorry. Do you want me to or would you rather be alone?"

"Mustn't you attend this ball tonight?"

"I was supposed to yes but Erik I do not want you to have to go alone. It will not matter if I do not go to the ball. I want to come with you."

"Then you shall come," I said, touched that she was willing to go.

She nodded, "I'll go see about the train."

Within the hour we were headed off to the train station. It was actually very well that Gemma was coming because I was too distracted to be of any used whatsoever. Gemma was the one who packed two small bags for her and for myself and who arraigned and paid for the train tickets and for the carriage that took us to the station. She also saw to it that we boarded the correct train.

My mind was consumed with worry and regret. I remembered the awful vision of Marie the angel had given me. After leaving Paris I should have tried to find her. I was the closest thing to a son she had ever had. She was older now and it was my turn to have taken care of her. We could have been each other's last chances. I was the son she did not have and she was the mother I had not known.

I should have tried to find her! After all she had done for me, after showing me such kindness always even when she had no need to I should have repaid her. I could have helped her, with money, with whatever ailed her.

I did not even know how she had come to be in England and not in France! I did not know if she was suffering from some evil sickness or if age was finally claiming her. I did not even know if she would be alive when I arrived.

As I berated myself Gemma sat silently beside me, her hand resting reassuringly on my knee. She did not say a word to disturb my thoughts but only looked out the window, leaving me be; which was exactly what I wanted of her.

It took two exhausting hours to reach Nottingham and when we did I realized I had no idea where to go. Gemma told me to wait for a moment on the platform with the bags. She went off into the crowd, asking perfect strangers of they knew where she could find a Father MacFarlane. Someone must have told her because she returned to me and picked up her bag.

"Come on darling," She said softly, "We need a carriage."

We were taken to a church, next to which was also built a large house. There was a red cross over the door and I assumed it was a kind of hospital run by the rectory.

Gemma and I knocked on the door and a few moments later we were answered by a middle aged woman dressed as a nun. She held a candle to in her hand to light the darkness around her as she surveyed her visitors.

"I…I am here to see Marie Perrault," I said shakily, speaking for the first time in hours.

The woman looked at me, "Oh! You are Erik Bonheur aren't you?"

"Yes,"

"Please come in!" She stepped aside so that we could enter, "Marie will be so happy you came. She is sleeping now of course and normally I would not wake her but I shall make an exception."

"May I ask how she came to be here?" I asked as the woman led us down a dark hall with only a candle to guide our progress. Gemma followed silently as we went.

"Oh," The nun spoke, "It is such a sad tale. From what we gathered, while she was living in France she took in a man who had nowhere to go. For a while, I think he worked for her around her house, but soon enough they stuck up a romantic affair. Then the wicked man said that he had gotten a job in England. He told her that he would go there first and take her money so that he could buy a house for them and then he would send for her. Of course, he left and never sent for her. Her money was all gone and she came to England to find him. The poor thing never did of course but we took her in. She is the most caring and loving creature, I think she still believes he will send for her, but no one has ever come to claim her."

This story did nothing to cheer me or change my guilty mood. I should have come and claimed her.

We were led into a small room and the nun placed the candle down on the table by the bed. The rays fell on Marie as the nun gently woke her.

She looked so much older than when I had seen her last! She face was so thin and lined, her hair only gray strands.

"Is it morning?" I heard her mutter in the most feeble of voices.

"No Marie, but someone is here to see you." The nun stepped aside and Marie looked at me in shock. For a moment I thought she would scream but instead her eyes grew bright.

"Erik! Erik I knew you would come and see me! I told Father you would."

"Yes," I sat down on the edge of her bed, "I came as soon as I received his letter."

Marie smiled at me, "I was so happy to see you in the paper! I was so proud! I always knew you were a bright child, that you would do well for yourself. Is that her?" She nodded to Gemma who was standing behind me.

Gemma came forward into the candle light but said nothing, waiting for me to respond.

"What do you mean Marie?" I asked.

"That is your wife is it not? Oh Erik I was overjoyed to hear you were finally in love; that you were happy. It was all I ever wanted for you. I prayed so hard that you would find someone to love you, someone that deserved you."

The poor woman; she had misread that damn article! She thought Gemma and I were married!

"Yes Marie, I am his wife," Gemma said quickly and without letting Marie see she switched one of the rings she had been wearing to the proper finger. She knelt down beside the bed and showed her hand to Marie.

"What a beautiful ring!" Marie stared at Gemma for a few moments, "And what a beautiful wife you make my dear; you know, Erik's mother was very beautiful as well."

"She would have to be, to have such a handsome son," She spoke soothingly and evenly, offering Marie a small smiled.

"She never treated him as she ought to have though," Marie said, and her eyes dulled a bit, "It was an awful thing to watch."

"I am sure," Gemma said softly.

"She was something of a socialite herself," Marie continued, staring at Gemma, "But you won't act like that will you child? You will love him won't you?"

"Yes Marie," Gemma assured her, "I love him very much."

Marie smiled and closed her eyes for a moment before speaking again, "You will care for him won't you? That is the proper job of a wife; to care for her husband. I would not feel right if I were gone, knowing there was no one to care for him."

I felt hot liquid pressing against the back of my eyes and when I looked at Gemma I saw a tear roll down her cheek as well.

"Yes Marie you need not worry; I am going to watch over him, love him, and protect him," She whispered.

"There is a good girl! And such a beauty! The face of an angel darling, and what lovely dark hair!"

I shook my head, "Marie, Gemma has blond hair."

Marie stared at her and laughed, "Ah! So she does! Erik…thank you for coming to see me,"

"You needn't thank me Marie," I took her hand in mine, "I should have tried to find you long ago. Forgive me."

"Do not fret about the past child," She said, and her voice grew very soft, "Tell me about how you are now; tell me what that brilliant mind of yours is doing! Will you be starting a family soon?"

I knew of course that it was better to lie to the poor woman and let her pass in peace.

"I…I have been building houses," I told her, and I did my best to not appear upset and angry that fate had brought me to her too late, "I was working for Gemma's father, that is how we met."

"That's lovely dear," Marie smiled serenely.

"We…we will be starting a family soon," I said a bit uncertainly, casting my eyes at Gemma momentarily. She smiled at me and nodded.

"Good good," Marie closed her eyes, "How many will you have?"

"I…I think that is up to my wife," I squeezed Marie's hand a little. I could not really believe that this was the last conversation I would have with my former protector and we were talking about such things. They were silly details and plans made even more ridiculous because they were not real. I felt as though I should be saying something more important.

"Lots, we plan on having lots of children," Gemma said, her hand on Marie's shoulder, "Erik is going to build a special house for us all to live in by the ocean."

"Oh!" Marie sighed, "That will be so nice for you Erik; to have a house full of children running around. I had always wished I had brothers and sisters…the ocean! What a lovely place to live…peaceful I would imagine." She looked blissfully peaceful herself, her eyes lightly closed and her lips tilted slightly upward. I wondered if she was thinking of the beach, I wondered if she could hear ocean waves…

"Yes, we are going to be a very happy family," I told her.

Marie laughed a little, "Oh Erik how perfect! That is what…what we always wanted for you…your mother and I. A good wife, and happy little children to make you proud…I am so proud of you Erik…my son…"

Her son; I could remember no one else calling me their son. I did not know how much longer I could remain composed.

"I wanted to see you child, one last time," Marie opened her eyes and looked at me once again. "Was I good enough to you Erik? Did you ever…think of me as a mother?"

"Yes," I swallowed hard and mustered the strength to speak without breaking down, "You raised me well please believe me I am a much better man for having you as a mother."

"So I was your mother then? I did do something worth while?" She asked in a heartbreakingly hopeful voice.

"Yes, yes you did."

Marie seemed to relax then, a sharp contrast to my own emotions which could not be held a bay. Tears rolled down my cheeks unchecked.

Through the watery haze of them, I saw Marie look over to Gemma.

"It is time now isn't it?" Marie asked and I saw Gemma nod ever so slightly.

"Do not be afraid Marie," I thought I heard Gemma whisper back to her though I may have been imagining it; I was crying so that I could not be sure.

I watched the life leave poor Marie. It was odd how one just knew when there was one less soul in the room. She had been fighting so hard to stay just to see me again, me of all people! I had been a son to her and I had repaid her wickedly. I should have come to her sooner! I could have taken her away from this foreign place and cared for her. We could have lived as mother and son.

I realized then why she asked me of family and of happy plans; she wanted to be proud of the son she had raised. It hurt most bitterly to know that it had been lies; I hoped that Marie would ascend to a place where she would never hear the truth.

Sliding off the bed so that my back was resting on it while I sat on the floor I wept for Marie, holding my face in my hands. It took me a moment to realize the Gemma was beside me, that her arms were around me and that my head was resting on her chest.

We stayed there until I felt I could cry no more. I have no idea how long that was, but by this time the candle had burned very low.

"I was a son to her and I failed her," I said bitterly, whipping my unmasked cheek dry.

"You did not fail her darling," Gemma said softly, "You made her proud, you made her happy…you gave her the peace she needed to move on."

"I lied to her!" I cried, angry with myself.

"You did not lie about being a better man because of her, and that was the important part."

I pulled away from Gemma so that I could look her in the eye. She appeared genuinely saddened over the death of Marie and over the pain I was suffering because of it. Her words had comforted me in a way that I had not expected.

"Thank you Gemma."

She shook her head and embraced me again, "I love you Erik."

I never tired of hearing those words and I believed Gemma knew that.

"What am I to do now?" I wondered aloud in despair.

"Shall I go and find that nun?" Gemma asked me softly, and for the first time I realized that she was no longer in the room. "She should know…" Gemma did not finish but I knew she was talking about what was to be done with the body and the funeral.

"Yes, I suppose you better." When I thought of burying Marie my heart broke.

Gemma kissed my forehead once before standing and leaving the room, leaving me alone with Marie. I stood as well and looked at her. At least her face was peaceful; she had not been in any great pain. In fact it seemed she had not been sick but rather that the years of her life had simply run out. It was the natural way of things, but still it seemed so cruel.

I was a better man because of Marie, I had not been lying about that. She had taught me the kindness without which I would have been lost long ago. Marie had taught me to be human, not monster.

Gemma returned a few moments later with the nun.

"So she has passed?" She looked at Marie sadly, "Well, we knew it was coming to that. At least you arrived here in time Mr. Bonheur."

I only nodded.

"You need not worry about burial; we can do that here."

"Yes," I sighed, "I think that would be best," It would have been difficult to transport her body back to France.

"I am sorry sister; we do not even know your name," Gemma said softly to the nun.

"Sister Constance," She said kindly, "Tell me, do you have a place to stay for the night?"

"No," I said somberly, "We came here without plans."

Sister Constance nodded, "I am afraid that we have no rooms open, but you are welcome to stay in the living room. There is no bed but we could make you comfortable enough. I fear that at this hour you have little choice; all the inns are closed."

"Thank you Sister," Gemma said, and once again I was glad she was there as she was able to attend to such things as proper manners and sleeping plans. I was far too shaken and depressed to think about any of it.

Sister Constance led us to a living room where we set down our bags. I sat on a sofa and let my head fall onto my hands. I could not get the thought poor Marie wondering England alone with nowhere to stay out of my head; it was all my fault.

While I brooded, Gemma and Sister Constance brought in a few blankets. When I looked I saw that a man was with them; Father MacFarlane.

He smiled at me, "I heard we had our very own Mary and Joseph tonight."

I raised my eyebrows. I was not sure what I was expecting from a priest, but a joke was certainly not it.

"We are glad to have you here," He said to me, "Marie has not stopped talking about you since the day she saw that paper."

"I only wish I could have come sooner," I muttered gravely.

"You came soon enough," He assured me, "I am only sorry that we cannot accommodate you and your wife better."

I stared at Gemma for a moment, she had lied to the priest. I regretted having to lie to Marie, and though I was not a religious man, I did not like the thought of lying to a priest either.

"We appreciate all you have done for us," I said.

"Not at all! This is a church after all isn't it?" MacFarlane seemed quite jolly considering the late hour and the passing of Marie. "I do have to warn the two of you; in the morning this is where we hold our Christmas celebration; mass is at ten and then the whole congregation will be back here."

"Father may I ask why the tree is not decorated?" Gemma was staring at the quite feeble looking tree in the middle of the room.

"Oh!" MacFarlane merely glanced at it, "We lost most of the decorations we had in a fire about a year ago; never seemed prudent to spend money on new ones."

"How awful," Gemma said in a very polite, respectful manner.

"Actually it was rather ironic; the fire was started by a Christmas tree in the first place!" He appeared genuinely amused by this.

Gemma laughed, "May I say you have a very well developed sense of humor for a priest."

He threw up his hands, "I'm Irish! It cannot be helped!" He laughed and shook his head, "You two sleep well now; Happy Christmas!"

With that he and Sister Constance left.

"You lied to a priest?" I asked Gemma immediately.

She shook her head.

"Well then why on earth does he think we are married?"

"Erik, I think he was just being kind to us. He knows we aren't married, it is just his way of telling us it is alright if we pass the night in the same room."

"Oh," I sighed and sat back on the sofa.

"I shan't be asking for an apology for accusing me of lying," Gemma smiled at me, coming to sit next to me, "Erik…maybe you should try to sleep."

I shook my head, "Impossible; but do not let me keep you if you are tired."

Gemma stood again, "That is such a sad little tree is it not?"

"I suppose," I hardly cared.

I was deep in depressing thoughts as I watched Gemma in the dim light provided by the several candles which had been left to us. She was still wearing her posh red party dress which would now never see the grand parties it had been made for.

Fascinated, my eyes followed her as she walked back to her bag and pulled out a dress.

"Gemma I really do not think this is the time for a costume change."

She just laughed. I looked on in amazement as the odd girl commenced in ripping the lace off the thing.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Erik this is the most depressing place I have ever been and I think I should change that if I can."

"Gemma this should be a depressing place! People die here! It…it is not right to feel happiness after someone you care for has passed away."

"Erik if that were true no one would be happy…ever." She continued to rip her dress to shreds, "Darling I understand that you are upset by all of this; I am to believe me! I hate to see you hurt," She set down her dress for a moment and came to me, kneeling in front of me, "Whatever you need to help you through this I am more than willing to do for you; you need only ask. But Erik my love," She laid her hand on my knee, "It will not dishonor the memory of Marie to be a little happy…or to decorate a tree…will it?"

I stared down at her, "Give me that dress will you? I think it would do me some good to rip something."

Gemma excitedly threw the thing and me and took up some of the lace, beginning to place it on the tree.

"This is going to look marvelous darling," She smiled broadly at me.

"No, it is going to look as though a tree fell into your closet."

Gemma laughed softly, "There is the dry man I love."

"You know we never had Christmas when I was young," I said suddenly.

"Really?" Gemma prompted me.

"No; my mother was not one for celebrating, not after I was born in any case. She hated me because of my face you know," I tore Gemma's dress in half, "Truly, the only present I ever received was from Marie."

Gemma stared at me, "How awful; Erik I am so sorry."

"Marie watched me once while my mother went out; I put a spider on her shoulder." I tore Gemma's dress again.

"You were only a boy Erik, that is what boys do," Gemma said, taking the sash from her dress and winding it around the tree.

"Do you know what she did to me?" I asked bitterly, "Nothing; she did not even tell my mother! And I never thanked her for that…for any of it."

"She knew Erik."

"Perhaps," I sighed. I just watched for a few moments as Gemma arraigned scraps of fabric in the most extraordinary way. She draped long, thin pieced like garlands and then formed little balls with others that she nestled in the branches of the tree. Still other scraps she tied in bows. The lace and beading of the dress hung from the boughs like snow.

"Erik do you want to…tell me…about you past?"

"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, ever suspicious of anyone prying into my affairs.

"I mean about your childhood…about Marie or your mother…you do not have to if you do not wish to I just thought you might…want to talk about it."

"There is little to tell," I said shortly, "My childhood was miserable, through no fault of Marie's. I left home when I was nine…or was I ten? I do not remember any more."

I felt a great shaking rising in my body as I thought back and a bitter loathing at the fact that now Marie was gone and I had allowed her to spend so much of her life here alone.

"Gemma," I grabbed her suddenly and she gasped a little in surprise, "Many, many times I feel I am finally at peace with my past and then…then something will happen that stirs my emotions once again and I fear that I will never be rid of the pain!"

How many times did I have to travel down the road of my past, stopping in the way stations of forgiveness and acceptance before I could finally get off this hellish highway? Seeing Marie again made me think of my mother by birth and of the first painful years of my life.

The truth was that though I forgave my mother for all she had done, I still carried some of the pain she had caused me and thinking of the past brought it back to me. To compound this I had failed Marie, the one alleviation from my suffering as a child.

"Erik," I had forgotten I had been gripping Gemma tightly and I relaxed my grasp, "No it is alright," She said quickly, "Hold me as tight as you need to."

I shook my head and moved away from her, "I need to be alone for awhile…I need to think."

"Erik you aren't thinking," Gemma said slowly and softly, "You are chastising yourself. I shall not tell you that you cannot change what has already happened; these words are meaningless to you now. Still, I hope you will remember them later."

She came toward me and laid her hand on my cheek in the most comforting way. "Erik of course the past still hurts you. It is one of the cruelties of time; you cannot go back and right the wrongs but they can still reach out to you in the present. I know that some days something sparks a hidden memory and a cloud will pass over your eyes. You are a prisoner to you mind; taken back against you will."

Without quite realizing what I was doing I put my arms around her wanting to feel the warmth of her body close to mine.

"Erik it is only a temporary abduction," Gemma continued softly, "Your present shall ransom you from the dark camp of your memory. You need not dwell there forever."

"You feel this way to then?" I asked her.

She nodded, "I cannot build a wall to keep in my mind any more than you can. I ran from home to once remember? I had no where to go…nothing to live on…sometimes I am paralyzed with the thought of that state of helplessness."

"I never see you that way," I told her.

She shook her head, "I hide it well…too well I think."

"When you feel this way, how to you forget the past again?" I asked, drawing her closer to me. It was impossible to deny the comfort of her embrace.

"Decorate trees."

I was forced to laugh a bit despite myself, "So that is why the plant in the hotel room has a necklace on it."

Gemma laughed as well, "I thought about giving in earrings but that would just be foolish don't you think?"

"Quite," I kissed her forehead, "Shall we then?" She nodded and we went back to the tree.

By the time we had finished it was growing light outside. Gemma had pulled out another of her dresses so in all we had adorned the tree with two of them.

Despite my earlier prediction I found that I was able to sleep. The sofa was hardly comfortable but I found emotional exhaustion sufficient to give me rest. Gemma lay there to, my arm wrapped around her waist…it was well that we were married.

Sunlight woke me the next morning and for one blissful moment I forgot where I was; then it all came back to me. I groaned in realization.

"Erik? Are you awake?" Gemma asked me.

"Yes why?"

"I have to sit up!" She cried, quickly sitting upright, "That was the most uncomfortable night I have ever spent! I would have moved hours ago but I did not want to wake you. You were so peaceful…snoring away…" She turned and smiled at me.

"I do not snore,"

"You do and you are adorable when you do it," She laughed, bending and pressing her lips quickly to mine.

"You had better not let Sister Constance see you do that," I teased her.

"It doesn't matter; we are married remember."

"Oh yes," I kissed her again, "How could I forget."

"Erik," Gemma smiled at me, "Merry Christmas,"

"Oh! That reminds me," I reached into my pocket, "I have something for you," I had never taken the necklace out and it had successfully made the trip to Nottingham with us, "I hope you like it," I opened my hand to show her.

"Oh Erik," She gasped, "It's beautiful!" She took it from my hand and inspected it.

"Here, let me," I sat up as well, feeling a thousand aches in my back as I did so. I took the necklace from her and put it around her neck.

Gemma looked down, "It is perfect Erik; thank you so much!"

"There is more," I told her, "But I left it back at the room in London."

"Erik you did not have to get me anything."

"I wanted to,"

"Is that where you went that day you disappeared on me?" She smiled as I nodded, "You are a sly one Erik Bonheur."

I stared at her for a moment.

"What is it Erik?" She asked.

"Gemma, Bonheur is not my last name," In the spirit of trusting her and opening myself to her I thought she might as well know.

"What do you mean?" She looked confused.

"I never knew my last name. My mother never told me…Bonheur is just something I invented."

"Erik I'm so sorry; I never knew you had such an awful mother," She said softly.

I shook my head, "She was not awful, she was just not ready for me."

"I am glad then…that you do not think ill of her memory. As for the name," She laughed, "Well darling, I do not care about a name. A rose by any other would smell as sweet would it not?"

I had to admit I was surprised by her understanding, surprised and also…touched. She was looking at me with a slight gleam in her eye.

"What?"

"Out of all the names in the world you chose Bonheur?" She teased me.

"It means good luck," I defended my choice, "I suppose you would have picked something different?"

"Of course, I would keep Gemma; I love that name. However Chevalier I could do without. Perhaps Hapsburg or Shakespeare."

"Gemma Shakespeare?" I laughed at her.

"You are right, Gemma Hapsburg is better."

"If it is royalty you seek you failed mistrably by 'marrying' me."

She smiled, "What do you think of Gemma Bonheur?"

I stared at her and she stared back at me. I wondered if she had thought about what she was saying before she said it. For a moment we simply gazed at each other in wonder and anticipation; who would speak first? What she was suggesting, that perhaps one day she could really become my wife, was more than I could have hoped for.

As fate would have it, neither of us got a chance to speak any more about marriage.

"Good! You two are awake! Come along, mass is going to begin soon!" Sister Constance was an amazingly cheery woman for it being so early in the morning.

"Well, I guess we should be going," Gemma stood, stretching her arms and legs.

"Going? Going where?" I asked.

"To mass!"

"No," I said firmly, "I do not attend mass,"

"Erik," Gemma spoke quietly in case a nun or God might overhear, "These people let us stay for the night, they have been very kind to us; it would be rude not to go!"

"Gemma I am not going,"

"Erik,"

It was frightening how simply by saying my name and giving me a stern look she could make me feel obligated to do whatever she said. I had only heard about such womanly powers before and quite frankly I was terrified of them. She seemed to have developed this skill remarkably fast; I had thought it would take at least another year before she could do that.

So, owing solely to Gemma's powers of persuasion we found ourselves in an interesting migration toward the church we had only glimpsed in the darkness the night before. We were by no means alone on our trek. Every inhabitant of the hospital that could walk was now on the move, not to mention the many residents of the town itself. Children ran past us and up to the steps of the stone cathedral and from behind I could hear their parent's voices, calling to them to slow down.

As we walked I heard a few whispers from the crowd around us. There were quite a few young women there and I was sure some of them recognized Gemma.

In no time we were passing under the old roof of the church. I felt a chill run up my spine; I knew I was being overdramatic. I was no devil, just a man…a man who had turned his back on religion long ago.

We took our place in a pew and waited for the service to begin. My mind was on other things; I thought of Marie and when we would hold her funeral, and I thought of Gemma Bonheur. I kept glancing at the woman next to me, at Gemma, and I wondered if it was possible that she would be beside me forever.

I was amazed at how crowded the church was, which I suppose was foolish; it was Christmas after all. I was seated at the end of the pew so that the only one who would be next to me would be Gemma. Next to her there was a large family with two older daughters, one young son and a little baby. Their parents seemed to be having quite a time controlling them. The girls were constantly looking at Gemma and whispering while the little boy was tugging on the hair of the little girl in the pew in front of him.

Every so often I would glance around at the people surrounding us and more and more I found that they looked away from me quickly, as though they did not want me to catch them staring. I did not need this! I had been through enough with the death of Marie; I did not have to put up with their stares, not today.

I made to leave and Gemma grabbed my arm.

"Erik! Where are you going?" She whispered forcefully.

"Everyone is staring at me," I growled back.

"I know,"

"Well unlike you, I do not enjoy being gawked at for me looks,"

"Erik!" She looked up at me, "They aren't looking at you because of that! It's because of your singing!"

It was only than that I realized I had even been singing. I had been in a trance, simply going though the motions of the mass. Of course, I had sung when everyone else had.

"Stay Erik, everything is fine," Gemma whispered soothingly, stroking my arm.

One man caught my eye. He was an elderly fellow, his wife stood next to him, totally engaged in the mass and ignoring me. He looked directly at me and smiled, lifting his book of hymns a little as if to say, bravo sir.

I looked back at Gemma, who was smiling almost proudly.

"Go on Erik," She whispered, "Keep singing,"

The organ at the front of the church begun to play; we had come to another song. I began to sing along with the rest of the congregation, reading the words out of the book that had been in the pew when we had sat down.

For the first time I noticed that around me, people were actually singing more quietly; presumably to hear me! It was certainly a strange place to have my first audience but still…I had never had that many people listen to me sing. I have to say, I rather enjoyed it.

After the endless choruses of amen and bless you, the mass concluded. I expected that everyone would file out rather quickly but I was mistaken. A widespread gossip ensued as the congregation members exchanged greetings, news, and wised each other happy Christmas.

"Are you Gemma Chevalier?" One of the young women who was sitting in our pew asked her excitedly, and I noticed her sister lean in to hear the answer.

"No, I'm sorry you are mistaken," Gemma said quickly. What the girls answered to this we were not destined to find out because Gemma quickly turned to me. "Perhaps we should go into the town and find somewhere to stay for the night. We can come back to make arrangements for the funeral later, when these people have all gone home."

I nodded and we started to leave.

"I am not sure," I said, looking around, "If there will be anyone there to let us a room; it seems as though the whole town is in this church at the moment."

"Agreed," Gemma threw her coat around her shoulders, "But I feel we must try, unless we want to sleep on that sofa again."

Merely entertaining this prospect sent aching pains through up and down my back.

Gemma and I left the church and for the first time I really looked at the town around me. The round was blanketed with crisp white snow; the think cover which hung on the roof tops and clung to the boughs of the trees sparkled in the sun. It was a quaint place; lots of little houses and shops lining the dirt roads.

We walked along, looking for an inn of some kind. I assumed that quite a bit of snow had fallen the night before because the streets and sidewalks were still pilled with it. The cuffs of my pants and the hem of Gemma's dress were already wet.

"Gemma why did you tell those girls in the church you weren't…you?" I asked as we walked away from the church and into the town.

"I did not want the attention," She explained plainly, hooking her arm through mine, "These days should be about burying Marie…and about you and I, about our first Christmas together." She smiled up at me, "Their complete and utter love for me, though touching," I laughed at this, "Would just get in the way."

"My my, I never thought I would see the day when Gemma Chevalier would not want the spotlight," I teased her.

Gemma swatted me with her other hand, "You wicked man! I'll never understand why I put up with you."

"Come now Gemma; I am irritable, unsociable, and stubborn…you are lucky to have me."

She laughed, "You are quite a catch; I do not know how I got along without you for so long."

"Not that long; how old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?" I asked mockingly.

"For your sake I should hope not," Gemma countered quickly, squeezing my arm, "How old are you? One hundred, three hundred?"

"A gentleman never tells," I gave her my best Mona Lisa's smile.

She shook her head, "Erik…you are not gentleman."

"Come now! That is not fair!" I spoke in faux anger, "I open doors and give you gifts…I do not objectify you as a marital prize as other gentleman do but I am doing my best to improve in that."

Gemma laughed so loudly that quite a few people on the street stared at her. It was surprising how much activity was going on around us on this Christmas morning. They were running in and out of shops, buying last minute ingredients for Christmas dinner, visiting neighbors, children were running around with brand new sleds, rounding up their friends. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, surrounded by a happy bustle. It made my sadness ebb a bit.

"There is an inn across the street," Gemma motioned and we crossed. There was a sign on the door saying that the keepers were at the church but would be back soon. It also said that there was a café down the street where anyone could wait.

"Oh Erik lets go!" Gemma quickly set off down the street, "I'm starving! You realize we haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon?"

I had not realized but the moment she brought it to my attention I could think of little else save my empty stomach.

This little café was, unlike the streets outside, completely deserted.

"I am not so sure this place is actually open for business," I muttered to Gemma as we walked in.

"Please do not say such a cruel thing to me," Gemma whispered back.

Our fears were allied however a moment later when a rotund middle aged man came out of the kitchen and motioned to us.

"Come in! Happy Christmas! Take a seat; you have your pick," He spoke jovially, especially for a man who was working on a holiday.

Gemma picked a seat close to the window, so we could watch the passersby on the streets; a favorite pastime of hers.

The man, who introduced himself as Henry, gave us menus and left us for a few moments as we pondered what to order.

"I think I will have eggs…or maybe a crêpe…I would love a crêpe! I do not think they have them though; I suppose that is more of a French dish," Gemma rambled on as she inspected the menu.

A few moments later Henry returned.

"What can I get for you sir?" He asked me, noticing that Gemma was still scanning her menu.

"I'll have the egg and ham sandwich,"

"Very good, and for your wife?" He turned to Gemma. I actually saw her blush a bit at being addressed in such a manner.

"Could I have the large order of pancakes, a side of toast and a few strips of bacon?"

Henry nodded, "Anything to drink?"

"Coffee," We spoke in one voice.

"Excellent; I'll start your order right away." He scurried off to the kitchen again.

"Oh I hope he hurries," Gemma looked anxiously after Henry.

"My lord! One would think you hadn't eaten in weeks!" I laughed at her.

She shrugged, "Being married to you works up an apatite in a girl,"

To Gemma's dismay, it did indeed take Henry a time to prepare our food but when it came the fare proved well worth the wait. I had to admit, there was something charming about the way Gemma hungrily devoured her food; completely devoid of all ladylike manners.

After breakfast we were lucky enough to obtain the last room in the small hotel. The room might have served as a closet in one of Gemma's usual rooms; even I was used to much better. However it was leaps and bounds ahead of the diminutive sofa we had experienced the night before.

One short nap later we were headed back for the church. We entered the hospital where we had slept, reasoning that this would be the best place to find Father MacFarlane.

However, the moment we stepped inside we noted a change. The quiet, depressing place we had entered the night before was gone. We heard music and laughter, the sounds of children playing and of adults singing Christmas Carols.

I looked at Gemma and she shrugged, "I suppose they are having a Christmas party."

"I did not think nuns and priests were celebratory."

"I believe they are simply celibate," Gemma spoke, a small smile of satisfaction at her own wit playing about her lips.

"You are just so clever aren't you?" I shook my head and could not help but smile.

We reached the center of the ruckus; it was none other than our makeshift bedroom from the night before. The moment we entered Sister Constance hurried up to us.

"Everyone just loves the tree!" She exclaimed, "However did you do it?"

"It was our pleasure," Gemma said quickly, "After you showed us so much kindness it was the least we could do."

"Nonsense," Father MacFarlane suddenly appeared at my elbow, "That was very kind of you and our whole congregation appreciates it. Now then, enough silly business, I know you want to make arrangements for Marie but that will have to wait for tomorrow. In the meantime I urge you; enjoy our little party! Christmas comes but once a year after all!"

I was ready to leave immediately but Gemma had other plans. A little girl pulled her away, asking if it would be alright for her to braid her hair, because she looked so much like her dolly.

As was my usual method, I headed for the corner and hoped to be left alone. Once again, Gemma had other plans. A gaggle of children had gathered around her and she kept sending them over to me, asking me questions Gemma had clearly taught them. It got to be such a damn nuisance that I was obliged to join Gemma in the middle of the room.

I sung to them, whatever they asked to hear. Gemma and others joined me sometimes but I became the main entertainment. None of this would have been possible had one of the parents, seeing my involvement with the children, not seen to it that I had a constant supply of drink; spiced rum I believed.

The party wore itself out and we eventually left.

"You are very good with children you know," Gemma said as we walked back to our tiny hotel.

"No…I am very drunk," I said slowly; suddenly walking in the snow was harder than I remembered. "I am a very good drunk."

Gemma laughed and took hold of my arm, trying to guide me, "I hope you are a good drunk because I am not going to be able to help you should you go bad and say, fall down."

"I won't…fall," I said, slipping and nearly falling even as I spoke.

Gemma laughed and tightened her grip on my arm, "Perhaps we should not talk until we reach the room; concentrate on walking darling."

I did make it to the room…but I did not stop talking.

"You know how long it has been since I have sung that much? Well, I guess I did sing when I was teaching you." I rambled on.

"Mmmhumm," Gemma nodded, removing my coat for me and motioning for me to sit down on the bed.

"But I haven't sung in so long! Christine nearly killed it for me!"

"Really?" Gemma said, humoring me drunken mood. She stooped and untied my shoes for me, removing them, bless her heart, so that I would not ruin the bed because it was obvious to us both that I would be lying down.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, "After the whole affair at the opera I never thought I would sing again!"

"The opera?"

"Yes! After being the phantom…"

Through my giddy haze I realized I had gone too far. I had let my guard down around Gemma because I loved her, I trusted her. I had been so delighted with how well the party had actually gone; sitting there in the middle of everything, signing; Gemma with a child on her lap…maybe someday our child…

I had wondered onto the thinnest of ice and had thought nothing of it. Now it was too late. Gemma had seen the papers, she knew the gossip…she knew!

Gemma looked up at me. I had been quickly sobered when I realized what I had done and I could clearly read a mix of surprise and pleasure in Gemma's eyes. I shook my head and blinked, assuming my vision must still be impaired by alcohol. Surprise and pleasure were not proper emotions to have after learning of my dark past.

"Erik," Gemma said calmly, placing her hand on my knee, "I know."

She could have knocked me over with one of her delicate fingers. Wonderfully

"What?" I stammered, "How could you possibly?"

Gemma smiled, "Erik you are forgetting who I am! Salacious gossip swirls around me like the winds of a tempest! I was in Paris when the story of Raoul de Chagny and his singer lover were all anyone would speak of. I attended the opera countless times; the dancers were always at the parties I went to. I knew the ledged of the Opera Ghost." Gemma laughed as she spoke, "When Gisele wrote to me of a masked man who had just moved out to the coast I reasoned the truth."

I knew my mouth was open as I listened to her story but I did not have the power to close it.

"Why…why didn't you ever say anything?" I asked in shock, "How could you possibly sustain from asking me about it?"

Gemma sighed and moved to sit next to me on the bed.

"There were a few reasons," She took my hand in hers, "When I met you I planned on asking you about it. I believed that you would be willing to make some sort of plan with me to ruin Raoul. You see, it annoyed me that for so long he was given so much attention in Paris just because he ran off with some soprano." She spoke with unmasked distain in her voice. The kind of petty revenge plot she was describing struck me as just the sort of thing the Gemma Chevalier I had once read about in the society columns would do.

"But…but you never mentioned anything," I said. Not seeking reprisal for weeks of agitating rumors that focused on an enemy did not seem like Gemma Chevalier.

Gemma nodded, "I know; I was planning on waiting awhile in any case, just to see if I could trust you or if you were an eccentric lunatic. Once I discovered your character I was planning on letting you know my intentions."

"So you discovered I was an eccentric lunatic and decided I would be of no use in your little game?" I did not know how to feel; shocked that Gemma had known the truth all along, or offended that she had not asked me to aid her in hurting Raoul…something I most likely would have done at the time in the wake of my anger over Gisele.

"No," Gemma squeezed my hand, "I discovered that you were…really quite amazing. I found your gruff manor and sarcasm irresistible." She smiled and kissed my cheek, "I realized that I would rather have you as a friend…and a lover, then mix you up in petty revenge." Gemma looked down at her lap and lowered her voice, "Besides, when I found out how…sensitive…you were to your face, I did not want to bring up that past. I did not want to anger you."

"Gemma," I said heavily, "I had no idea…you cared about my anger; I thought you just did as you pleased."

She hit my shoulder, almost knocking me off the bed.

"That was not the best choice of words," I said quickly.

"I should think not."

"Gemma, what I meant was," I paused. I did not know what I meant and in my current state I knew I would not be able to articulate it. Gemma knew my greatest secrets; she knew the look of my face and the nature of my past. She knew all of this, and she loved me anyway.

"Gemma what I mean is I love you," Funny though, these words were more accurate than any other response I could have invented, even sober.

She moved her hand to my back, moving it in gentle circles, something which felt quite relaxing, especially after spending the afternoon with screaming children.

"I know darling," Gemma said, "You see Erik; we are meant for each other; we are the two most infamous people in Paris."

I laughed a hardy, full kind of laugh. It was only something I had developed since I had met Gemma.

"You do have a point there," I fell back on the bed, taking Gemma with me, "We do make quite a pair."

"We do indeed,"

That was the last thing I remembered her saying before I finally fell asleep.

The funeral for Marie was held the next day. It was a very simple service in the grave yard behind the church. Gemma and I along with a few of the friends Marie had made while staying at the church were the only guests besides Father MacFarlane and Sister Constance.

For a funeral it was actually rather nice. The sky was clear blue and the sun shown a bright cold yellow. The fresh snow from the night before glittered in the fields and decorated the tomb stones, making even these grim markers appear picturesque.

Father MacFarlane said a few words as the wooden casket was lowered into the ground. Since her death I had already begun to heal from the guilt but the ceremony brought it all crashing back to me. The funeral had barely started when my eyes became heavy with tears.

I felt a new emotion welling up inside of me. It was such a waste that I had not found Marie sooner and I knew I would never stop regretting my actions. This deep regret twisted so painfully in the pit of my stomach I vowed never again to make this same mistake. There would be no more regrets in my life. Even if I got hurt along the way, that could not feel as bad as this remorse.

Gemma put her hand on my back. Through my winter coat it was difficult to feel the pressure of this little gesture but it was comforting none the less.

By that night we had said good bye to the Father and Sister Constance. We thanked them over and over again for their kindness and Gemma promised that she would donate money for the repairs that were needed in the hospital and the church. That night we took a train back to London.

The busy city was a sharp contrast to the quaint town of Nottingham. The moment we stepped onto the platform we were surrounded by crowds of swirling travelers.

"Quite a change isn't it?" I said to Gemma as we were jostled along by the flow of people, slowly making our way toward a carriage.

"Indeed," Gemma agreed, dodging out of the way as a large man wearing a giant Russian style fur hat rushed by, "I know it is difficult to believe, but I actually miss this hustle."

"I thought you were going to move out to Deauville with me and we were going to live there away from all of this."

"Oh…well…"

I laughed, "I am only teasing you Gemma; I discovered that Deauville is really quite depressing in the winter."

"Oh! Good then," Gemma smiled at me.

We found a carriage and at long last we arrived back at the hotel that had become our home in London.

"Miss Chevalier! I have quite a few messages for you…" The concierge tried to flag down Gemma as we entered.

"I shall take them tomorrow," She yawned. Truly we were exhausted; the past few days had been very taxing. Emotional stress, little sleep, church, children, and hours of train travel; I had never been more relieved to see that old familiar door at the end of the hall.

"Oh! It feels so good to be back here." Gemma dropped unceremoniously down on the sofa and removed her shoes, rubbing her feet.

"I have never agreed with you more darling," I seconded, throwing down our luggage and practically falling onto the sofa next to her. "We might have to sleep here Gemma; I do not think I can move."

"Come on Erik," Gemma patted my knee and stood in one quick motion, as though if she did not do it quickly she would not be able to do it at all, "Just a few more feet and we can sleep in our soft, warm, large bed."

"Damn you woman; when you put it that way our bed sounds so appealing," I resented having to move from the sofa but the prospect of the bed sounded too good.

Our bed however was well worth the extra yard. We stripped off our clothes, too tired to re dress in night clothes or to feel any kind of arousal. Gemma would be a beautiful, sensual woman in the morning when I was rested.

"Good night Erik; I love you," She whispered, and I watched her eyes close.

"Good night my love," I kissed the top of her head. I laid there for a moment but as much as I wanted to, I could not fall right to sleep. "Gemma?"

"Yes?" She muttered, her eyes still closed.

"Do you imagine that this is how our life will be if we are married?"

"What do you mean?"

"Going to bed without making love?"

Gemma laughed, moving closer to me and throwing her arm over my chest, "You have the strangest thoughts were you are sleep deprived."

"I am serious!" I laughed, knowing I had never been less serious in my life. It was a funny, almost drunk feeling; I was so tired I spoke without thinking, "We are going to become a boring old married couple."

"That shan't happen Erik," Gemma said, nestling against me.

"Why not?"

"I won't let it,"

"How do you intent on preventing it?"

"By dressing up as a ghost and haunting our house; seducing you with music."

"You are going to bring that up more now aren't you?"

"Of course."

"I suppose I had that coming,"

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I love you; but you must go to sleep."

I laughed softly, kissing the top of her head again, "As you wish my darling; good night."

We both slept well into the afternoon the next day but this was the end of our relaxation. Nadir came barging in not long after we had woken, asking where we had been and why I had not told him where I was going. He seemed rather put out that I had not told him or perhaps that I had not needed his help. In any case he required a detailed description of the last few days.

Gemma was in trouble for missing the Christmas party and had to run off to a show that afternoon. She left in a hurry; needing to arrive early to get in costume. I was still talking to Nadir when Gemma went out the door, leaving the address of the show with me in case I wanted to come by later.

"So she…she went with you to Nottingham then?" Nadir asked once Gemma had gone.

"That is what I told you is it not?" I was getting tired of Nadir's constant suspicion of Gemma.

"That was kind of her,"

"She is a kind woman," I poured myself some searing hot coffee, thankful for the hot drink, "She knows Nadir."

"She knows what?"

"She knows who I was; she knows about the opera."

Nadir's eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates, "What! You told her?"

"Well yes and no," I shrugged, sipping the coffee, "I told her, but she knew already; she reasoned it out before she even met me."

"And she is comfortable with that knowledge?" Nadir asked in shock.

"Yes," I said, rather offended, "Why shouldn't she be?"

"Erik," Nadir shook his head, "It was not exactly your finest moment! Do not misunderstand; I am happy for you that she has accepted your past. It is simply that…that information is a lot to handle. I wonder how it is that she can be so tolerant."

"Did you ever think Nadir," I began, leaning forward a bit angrily, "That it might just be because she loves me?"

Judging by the look on his face this idea had never occurred to him.

"Erik; do you trust her?" Nadir asked.

"Yes," I spoke with absolute certainty, "I didn't, not for a long time; but Nadir, especially after this trip to Nottingham…I do trust her. I love her."

Nadir sighed, "I am glad to see you happy Erik and Gemma does seem to be quite perfect, but I do want you to be careful Erik. I would hate to see you hurt."

I shook my head. Every day I worried about getting hurt, about the glares from the passersby on the street, about the animosity I faced from society. My heart was so tired of worrying. I did not believe that I had one more ounce of feeling left for other's opinions.

This was precisely why I found myself heading for the banquet hall in which Gemma was having her show. I walked there with Derek Westwood and I did not mind at all that it was broad daylight and people were staring or that I was in the company of Westwood.

"You two were missed at Christmas," Westwood was telling me, "What on earth possessed you to leave London?"

"My aunt," Explaining the real relationship between Marie and I was too complicated, "She died on Christmas Eve."

"Oh! Oh my," Westwood's expression immediately turned somber and understanding, "Of course; you had to go then. The party was not that important anyway."

"Well it was not for me," I said, "But Gemma was scolded for missing it."

"Oh that is nothing," Westwood shook his head dismissively, "The man who made her dress, the host of the party; they just want her to come so they can get more business of course. I am sure they would have paid Gemma considerably for her troubles but she does not need the money. These people need her; they will not stay angry at her for long."

"That is exactly what she said," I told him, "Tell me, what are these shows like? Have you been to one before?"

Westwood nodded, "They are completely ridiculous. The girls are all made up in the latest makeup and hair and dresses. They walk around and other women stare at them, deciding what they want to buy. I will not lie to you Erik, they can be quite boring. However, I did meet Lily for the first time when my mother begged my to accompany her to a show so I suppose they do have their uses."

I looked over at Westwood and saw that a wide grin had spread over his face while he was speaking of meeting Lily. I gathered from the way the Mr. and Mrs. Westwood acted, they had married for love, not money or social status.

We arrived in the hall before the show actually started. I was amazed at how many women had packed themselves into the banquet hall for the sake of fashion. There was hardly an inch left to move. With difficulty Westwood and I made it to the bar set up in the corner where a man served us complementary champagne.

At the far end of the room curtains and a small stage had been erected, presumably for the girls little fashion parade.

The show began shortly thereafter. A small assemblage of musicians began a lively tune and a woman that I did not recognize walked out onto the stage. She was dressed impeccably and very tall and beautiful. She walked gracefully across the stage, letting all the women see she dress, stopping at one end and turning just so as to let everyone see better. Then she disappeared behind the curtain.

More women followed her, all of whom I did not know. Then, the music began to pick up tempo and out walked Katharine Rocha. She moved agilely across the stage, appearing very confident. It was strange how even though I had seen her before she looked so different now, all made up in exaggerated make up and an exquisite gown. Daria Werbowy followed her and then came Lily Westwood. I heard Derek's breath catch in his throat at the sight of his wife.

"I never get used to how beautiful she is," I heard him mutter.

"Where is—"

"Just wait; here she comes," He knew I was asking about Gemma.

The last woman in the show, Gemma walked out onto the stage. I knew my heart stopped beating for one moment. I spent weeks in Gemma's company and I knew she was a gorgeous woman but like Westwood, I was not used to seeing her like this.

She was attired in an intricately crafted, form fitting gown made of golden and black fabric. Her hair was pulled out of her face and piled in flowing blond curls which started on top of her head and then cascaded down her back. Her green eye and blue eye were lined with black and narrowed at the corners. Between this and the way she walked, Gemma looked like a jungle cat; beautiful and powerful at the same time. I saw why she was so loved by this world; she was nothing short of captivating.

After Gemma left the stage all the women walked out in line again. This time they left the stage and walked out among the guests, allowing them a closer look at the dresses.

"Alright, that is our cue," Westwood said to me and we moved off, each of us heading toward the woman we loved.

I found Gemma in a crowd of people. I heard a man next to her offer her his villa in Tuscany.

"That is very kind but I have a—Erik!" She spotted me and broke away from the people surrounding her. "You came!"

"Yes," I said in a business like voice, "I am looking for a dress for my lover, I think she would look stunning in the one you are wearing but I would like to inspect it before I buy it."

"Of course," Gemma played along beautifully, "That is what I am here for."

I circled her, using the excuse of looking at the dress to stare at her body, taking in the curve of her waist as it turned into her hips along with the bulge of her bust.

"Very nice Mademoiselle," I reached out and put my hand on her torso, caressing her under the pretense of feeling the fabric, "Very nice indeed."

"Kiss me Erik," She whispered; we were standing close together so I was the only one who heard her.

"Not in front of your admirers my dear," I whispered back, keeping my lips inches from hers. I took her hand and kissed it instead.

Gemma shook her head and smiled, "Always a gentleman Erik," She took a glass of champagne off of a tray a waiter was passing around, "What do you think of the show darling?"

"It was not un enjoyable," I said casually, "I did think you would be wearing some sort of crown while your minions fanned you with palm leaves."

"My minions are taking their break," Gemma said, as always, never missing a beat.

"This! This is fabulous!" We were interrupted by a shrill woman's voice.

"Gemma Chevalier, I am Lady Catharine de Bourgh; this is my daughter Lydia," Lady Catharine was a tall woman with a large presence. Right away I judged her to believe that breeding and a title meant she could act as she pleased.

"I absolutely must have this," Lady Catharine continued, inspecting Gemma's dress.

"It is rather gorgeous is it not?" Gemma said, turning around so that Lady Catharine could see the back as well, "What do you think Lydia?" Gemma acted as those these people were her closest friends.

"Oh I love it," The girl blushed; she did not seem to share her mother's unabashed nature.

"Who made this dress?" Lady Catharine demanded, stepping closer to Gemma and feeling the fabric of the skirt between her thumb and forefinger.

"Mousier Jacques Doucet; he is right over there," Gemma pointed.

"Thank you Miss Chevalier; it was a pleasure meeting you. You are as beautiful as everyone says you are," Lady Catharine said bluntly, shaking Gemma's hand before heading off to find Mousier Doucet.

"Lovely woman," I said as she disappeared into the crowd, "Why ever didn't you introduce me?"

Gemma laughed, "These shows thrive on the Lady Catharine de Bourgh's of the world. I meet about ten women exactly like her at every one of these."

"That is truly depressing," I said, making Gemma laugh, "So you do not mind being on constant display for all of these people?" I noticed that as they passed by, most people looked at Gemma as though she were a mannequin in a shop window.

She shook her head, "Not at all; it's the business! The way I see it, all of the women in here want to be me…and all of the men wish they were you, and that is a motivating feeling."

"Men wish they were me?" I asked half teasing half skeptic.

"Of course they do; one because you are with me, and two because you are so handsome and enigmatic."

I laughed, "You always know how to flatter me don't you Gemma Chevalier?"

"I try," She came closer to me and I put my arm around her. "Erik," Her voice was suddenly more serious and a bit lower, "thank you for coming; I really wanted you here but to be honest I did not think you would come."

I leaned over and lightly kissed the top of her head, not caring that our affection was on display, "This is not my usual idea of a pleasant afternoon but for you Gemma…I think it is time for a change anyway."

A few moments later Gemma was called away to the stage again; she and her fellow models were to have their pictures taken. I had finished my glass of champagne while talking to Gemma and I headed back to the bar for another.

"She looks so much better now than she did in New York," Among the bits of conversation I caught on my way to the bar this sentence captured my attention. Two women roughly my age were speaking to each other. I was behind them; they did not know I was listening.

"I do not believe I saw her smile once during the tour of the city. Now it seems as though she cannot stop!"

"Yes I know; Madam D'Aubigne told me that she heard Gemma is seeing the man she courted this summer again and that is the reason behind her transformation."

"Oh! The man I saw her standing with earlier? Was that him?"

"I believe so; a Mousier Bonheur if my source is correct."

"Bonheur you say? Not a name I am familiar with…a rather odd looking fellow though don't you agree?"

"Most ardently," I saw one of the women nod, "But I always believed she would fall for a man of…unexpected character; a woman like her would never settle for someone normal."

I laughed as I walked away from the two women. For once I realized just how arbitrary gossip was.

"There you are!" Derek Westwood was standing by the bar, "I wondered where you had gotten to; get yourself a drink my friend, there are some people I want you to meet."

Derek pulled me over to a group of men that stood out like a sore thumb amid all of the eager women and board looking husbands and sons. These were the men of the models; the husbands and finances and lovers of the beautiful creatures everyone else had flocked there to see.

Among them I recognized Phillip Ferretti who greeted me kindly, stating his pleasure to see Gemma and I together again. Though I knew nothing of the rest of the men save for their names, it seemed that there was a common agreement between all of them. Each one was good enough for the most beautiful and prominent women out in society therefore they were all equal. It did not matter who had the most money or the most affluent family. The only factor in consideration was female counterparts. With Gemma Chevalier as my lover, I was more than accepted into this group of men.

Within moments Ferretti was proposing a business idea to me. With my skills as an architect and his money for backing he believed we could start a very successful firm. Though it was a vague plan and quite unexpected I considered it seriously. Years ago I had began a similar business and done quite well for myself. With Ferretti's money I knew I could do even better. I was not strapped financially but a large part of my fortune was gone; used up when I had partially financed the construction of the Paris Opera.

I felt someone tap my shoulder and turned.

"Gemma! You are done already?" I was very pleased to see her but at the same time I was pleased with myself. In her absence I had not slunk off to a corner and waited. That was what I considered growth.

She nodded, "Finished; we can leave now if you would like."

"Not at all," I shook my head, "I am enjoying myself. I would like to stay."

The shock on her face was visible from across the room.

"Really?" She asked skeptically.

I put my arm around her, lightly kissing the top of her head, "Of course. Come now; I was discussing some business with Monsieur Ferretti; I'd love to hear what you think of his idea." We turned back into the circle we had been congregated in before. Now there were even more people as the ladies had joined us. The lovely Daria Werbowy had appeared at Ferretti's elbow.

"Business?" Gemma asked.

"Erik and I may start a firm; I've already heard people clamoring to get the same architect that designed the Chevalier mansion," Ferretti gave Gemma an exaggerated bow and she pretended to be supremely flattered, "He is in demand right now; I could manage the business end and he can be the creative genius."

"Would you actually build things or just provide the design?" Gemma asked, and I could see the business wheels turning in her head. Truly I would value her opinion; you do not become one of the most powerful people in Paris by accident.

"Build them to I suppose," Farretti shrugged.

"No," I shook my head, "Once you get into financing projects like that you start to lose money. It would be better if we just supplied people with designs."

Farretti laughed, "I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful business partnership."

"Indeed," I said, raising my glass to him. I was seriously considering his offer, but I would ask Gemma's opinion of Farretti before I agreed to anything.

The show turned into a dinner in London which turned into a dance hall which led to our returning to the hotel at a very indecent hour. The moment we got away from the fast pace and free drinks that had fueled our night I realized had once again expended all the energy I had in reserve. It was with heavy feet indeed that I walked back to our room.

Gemma was less exhausted than I but tired none the less. She had not changed out of the dress she had worn at the show, I learned that the girls received the dresses for free as gifts. Earlier in the night I had gotten the impression that the tight frock was starting to hurt.

"Erik, help," Gemma turned to me balefully the moment we stepped inside. I laughed softly as I aided her in removing her dress.

"I knew you had designs to turn me into a ladies aid," I teased her as I helped her off with her dress. It was odd how it was done more in the sense of a favor than seduction. I did not need to seduce her; she was mine already.

"I swear they make these things to keep women from breathing," Gemma inhaled deeply once her body was free and I could see her lithe muscles relax. That night more than ever I had noticed her graceful manner; she truly had an allure.

"But you looked beautiful; that is the whole point is it not?" I smiled, leaning in and kissing her fully on her rosy lips. I had refrained from doing so all night; a difficult task but we both believed it was in bad taste to show too much affection in public. In any case, waiting until we were alone made the feel of her scantily clad body against mine all the more arousing.

"You were so perfect tonight Erik," Gemma told me blissfully as she circled her arms around my neck and I moved my lips to her hear.

"I am never perfect," I told her.

She laughed, "You were! Everyone thought so."

"How do you know?"

"I could tell! You were ever so nonchalant about everything; so charming! You seemed so much more mature than the younger man."

"Are you trying to tell me that I am old Gemma darling?" I laughed as I moved on to her neck.

"No! oh!" Gemma gasped a little as my lips grazed the most sensitive part of her neck. "I mean that you were a man among boys tonight."

"Thank you darling," I said, with my mind little on the events of the night or on what Gemma was saying, "Now, let me show you how I can be a man with a woman tonight."

Gemma laughed giddily as I scooped her up and carried her off to the bedroom.

It was amazing really the changes that had taken place in the bedroom since Gemma and I had first become intimate. The nerves, the inexperienced fumbling, the uncertainty; they had all gone. I knew what she wanted and she knew what I wanted. On the other hand, the kind of passionate need we had felt at the beginning of our relationship remained. This combine made our sex life the sort of thing I had always longed for.

This all occurred to me after the fact; the only thing that occurred to be during love making was the way Gemma's body moved so well with mine.

We lay there catching our breath, our bodies still glowing with a thin covering of sweat. That was when the change in our sex life occurred to me.

Gemma pressed her body flush with mine. Feeling her next to me like that, her naked body against mine, was almost as gratifying as sex itself. It certainly was not an inefficient way to arouse my desire a second time.

"I love you Erik," Gemma smiled up at me, running her hand up my back and over my side.

I laughed sharply as her hand grazed a particularly sensitive spot on my side, "I love you to darling."

She grinned wider and her hand brushed my side again, causing another involuntary spasm of laughter.

"Be nice," I warned her, trying to resist the urge to laugh.

The wicked woman did not stop her torture. I grabbed her wrist playfully and pinned it behind her head. After a brief struggle I managed to subdue the little tease.

"Erik! Let me go!" She laughed as she writhed and twisted to get away in the most intoxicating manner.

"Are you going to behave?" I asked her.

"No," She smiled devilishly at me.

"Then I am afraid I cannot let you go," I leaned over, kissing her lips. At first we were both laughed still but as our kiss continued we lost the urge. I moved over, trapping her body under mine and Gemma stopped struggling to escape my grasp. I felt her legs part beneath me and I let go of her wrists so I could caress the rest of her body. An encore performance was at hand.

An hour later, so completely spent we could hardly move another inch, we fell asleep next to each other. I kissed her forehead just before I closed my eyes and I felt Gemma nestle closer to me. Usually in this big bed we slept on our own sides but on this particularly cold night there would be none of that. It hardly mattered to me that my arm under her head was numb.

In the world of Gemma Chevalier and her friends, three in the morning was the equivalent to ten at night and noon was the equivalent of ten in the morning. That was why it was most usual to wake late in the afternoon and begin our day then.

However, this was not the schedule Nadir and Victoria were on. That afternoon I found a note slipped under my door telling me that Nadir and his new bride had finally left for their honeymoon. It occurred to me that Nadir had told me that they would be leaving the other day before I had left for the show. I had been preoccupied however and not paid much attention to him.

It was no matter; Nadir did not need me to mind him he had his wife.

"Nadir and Victoria have left," I told Gemma as she came out into the sitting room, tying her robe at the waste.

She came up behind me and kissed my temple, "I do like them Erik; they seem very sweet. Are you going to miss them terribly?"

"No," I said truthfully, "They need to start their lives together and I have you to occupy my time."

Gemma laughed, "I am quite time consuming. I suppose last night was the latest you have been awake in years."

"On the contrary; when I lived in the opera I would stay up all night," It was strange that now I could be completely open with her; no topic was off limits. I could tell her whatever I wished without fear.

"How long did you live in the opera Erik?" Gemma asked me, ringing in a breakfast request to the front desk.

I considered, "Years…at least ten." Looking back now I realized a strange dichotomy. It had been but a year ago that I had lived under the opera house, enveloped in a dark world of twisted dreams and disillusions, allowing anger and madness to rule me until my soul was as decayed as the old wood supporting my under ground home. However, though only a year had passed, I felt like I had become a very different person and could not imagine retreating back to the solitude of my old ways.

Gemma looked as horrified at the prospect of living under the opera house as I was.

"So you…you lived under the Paris Opera? How did you do it? Did you actually have a house down there?"

"Well," There was no harm in telling her, I mused as I sat down with a steaming cup of coffee in the sitting room, "I helped build the Paris Opera to begin with. During construction, after I was evicted from yet another mediocre apartment, I thought it would be best if I just took up residence under the opera itself. It was secluded so I would not have to come in contact with people, and I loved the opera; it was like a child to me and I did not want to part with it. I built a house in one of the cellars before the construction was finished and I lived in it up until last year."

Gemma joined me on the sofa, listening intently to my story.

"So you just lived alone down there?" She looked sadly at me.

"Nadir visited me from time to time…and in the end…in the end there was Christine…" I looked up at Gemma when I mentioned Christine's name; she eyes flashed.

"I met her once; she was ugly and boring," Gemma seemed unable to control herself. "I do not know what you ever saw in her."

"I know," I put my arm around her and she moved closer, resting her head on my shoulder. The truth was that of course Christine was not ugly or even boring, but I was not about to tell that to Gemma. I may not have had a lot of experience with women but I did know better than that.

Our breakfast cart was delivered and we sat down to eat.

"What shall we do today?" Gemma asked me.

"Whatever suits you."

"Well, I have another show tomorrow and then…there is a show I wanted you to see; an opera here in London. Will you go with me?"

"Of course," I was actually excited at the prospect of going to see an opera, "I would love to; but what shall we do today then?"

"I have an idea."

Gemma's idea turned out to be rather pleasant. After layering on our winter attire, we left the hotel for the snow covered streets of London. Arm and arm, we leisurely made our way to a small park. For a few minutes, as we walked down the small path, we left the many buildings of the city behind and we were surrounded by a forest of white. Every tree bough was decorated with a sparkling covering of snow. It was quieter in there as well and as we walked it began to snow again.

We stopped and Gemma put her arms around me, moving in front of me. We stood there in a tight embrace, enjoying the peaceful moment in the serine, almost enchanted scene. I looked down at Gemma. Snowflakes were catching in her long eyelashes.

"I am so happy you are here Erik," Gemma smiled up at me, "I would be miserable without you."

Gemma had an even larger show the next night that involved even more adoring onlookers and to my delight, even more liquor. It was much easier for me to handle the crowds of people and the forced conversation when my spirits were lifted by wine and champagne.

As previously discussed, after the show Gemma and I headed off to the London Opera. We were not alone; Lily and Derek Westwood had tickets as well and Katharine Rocha, Daria Werbowy, and their respective admirers decided to tag along. It was quite a merry bunch; after being around complementary drinks for hours, not to mention with no food in sight, it would have been difficult not to be merry.

Never in my life had I visited the opera in London and I was quite excited. I suppose that no matter what I did with myself or how much I changed, I would always love the opera. I realized more and more that there were two levels to evolution; you change what you love and also the way you do what you love. I did not care for darkness, loneliness; most importantly my feeling for Christine had died long ago. I would not stop loving the opera though; now I simply went in a different fashion; no more sneaking around and hiding in the rafters.

Gemma and I, along with the rest of our companions, strutted in through the front door. For one instant, the photographers capturing our arrival and the swirling thickets of people moving about us reminded me of the disaster with Bella. As soon as this image had formed however it dissolved. I trusted Gemma completely and I knew that with her there nothing would go awry. Nothing seemed ever to run astray in Gemma's world. She had that kind of power, or maybe she had that kind of luck. In any case, I knew that this evening would be enjoyable.

Gemma had a private box reserved for our use. Our view of the stage could not have been better. It was a most strange, but most pleasant feeling to sit in an opera house surrounded by friendly faces. Gemma put her hand over mine in a most casual way, her thumb moving in gentle little circles over my hand. I did not even think she noticed what she was doing but it meant the world to me.

The curtain parted and the first note of the opera rose up from the orchestra pit. A shiver of excitement ran up and down my spine. It was one thing to play a piano and listen to Gemma sing, it was another to hear a full orchestra and listen to the many voices of the chorus. This was a pleasure I had not indulged in for some time.

Gemma leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Is this alright Erik? I did not know about these seats…I thought you might prefer something less conspicuous…and this opera; I wasn't sure it was good—"

I stopped her by turning my head, catching her lips lightly with mine, "Everything is perfect Gemma." She smiled the most pleased grin and leaned back in her chair, keeping her hand over mine.

At intermission Gemma turned to me, "I need to go to the powder room; excuse me darling,"

I nodded, "Of course," And with that she scampered off, motioning for her friends to follow. I stared at her as she went; she seemed nervous or giddy or something. Why on earth going to a bathroom would evoke those kind of feelings was beyond me.

"Erik," Phillip Ferretti leaned forward to speak to me, "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

"I have," And I could not believe I was saying this, "I'd like to do it; I think it would prove quite profitable."

Ferretti nodded, "Excellent; because I have already lined up our first client, he is here tonight we can meet him after the show. He's interested in hotels…you can build a hotel can't you?" The idea that a project would be outside of my capacity as an architect seemed not to have occurred to Ferretti, which was fine with me; I rather felt that there was nothing I could not do.

Just then the lights flickered and I heard a few notes come out of the orchestra. An awfully short intermission I thought as I wondered if Gemma would make it back in time. However a moment later I realized Gemma would not be coming back…she was on stage!

I do not know why, but when I saw her walk out there my heart fell into my stomach and my jaw fell onto the ground. What was she up to?

She had gotten the attention of the crowd immediately and now the audience was silent, waiting for her to speak.

"Good evening," Gemma was practically yelling so that her voice would carry throughout the house, "Tonight it is my pleasure to treat you all to a special performance," I have to admit that as much as I trusted Gemma I was nervous as she spoke these words; what did she mean by special? What performance? I had been set up for the fall before…and this was usually how it started.

"Tonight I am going to sing a piece for you…written and composed by Erik Bonheur," I nearly fell out of my seat as she announced this. What piece had I composed and how had she gotten hold of it? Gemma looked right up at me from the stage, "Merry Christmas darling,"

The moment the music started I knew what it was; a song I had written specifically for Gemma during the summer. It was meant to complement the range and tone of her voice…it also reminded me of the strong, almost mad feelings of desire and love I had been feeling for her at the time. I still loved her quite fiercely, but that initial intensity had begun to calm down; staying in love like that would drive anyone mad! It is impossible.

Listening to her voice however, singing my words, brought all those feeling back into my mind and heart.

Gemma had a very good voice; perhaps not as perfect as Christine's had been but then Gemma possessed a different power. She was entrancing; her voice, her presence on the stage; it cast a spell and I did not mind for one moment being so drawn in.

The song was accompanied by the full orchestra. Though at home I had only a piano, I often wrote parts for other instruments, purely for my amusement and enjoyment. I never imagined that one day I would actually be hearing the notes I had written played in a grand opera house in front of countless people. The sense of pride and pleasure that came from hearing that song, from hearing Gemma sing it, was overwhelming.

The composition came to an end and was met with thunderous applause. Gemma, rather humbly, took a bow, blew a kiss off into the crowd, and then waltzed gracefully off the stage.

In a few minutes I heard rushing footsteps and the women burst into the box. Gemma looked breathless, her eyes immediately darting to meet mine.

"Well?" She stepped toward me, I had stood when I saw she arrive, "Was it alright? Did you like it?" I had never seen her more desperate to please, and I found this endlessly endearing.

I took her hands and kissed her cheek, "That was beautiful my love," I had not realized until I spoke but my throat was rather tight.

She smiled at me, "I hoped you would like it! I was worried I did not have enough time to practice; I think I sounded a little flat." Despite her worried her eyes looked round and bright with delight.

I shook my head, "No darling; you were perfect. How did you get that composition?"

Gemma looked rather pleased with herself, "I took it," Her face fell, "Well…I mean, I browed it, just so I could practice it more. I did not realized I had taken the full orchestra version. I did not think you would mind…I took it with me to New York…I sang it all the time…I did not think you would mind that I had it."

"Of course not," I said quickly, "I did not even miss it; this was very clever of you, to plan all of this. Thank you Gemma," I clasped her hands a little tighter and pulled her closer to me, "It meant the world to me to hear you perform that song."

She just smiled. I kissed her then.

"Aw!" we heard the voice of Daria Werbowy and we broke apart, still smiling wildly at each other, "How sweet!" She crooned, "Now sit; I can not see with you two in the way."

Gemma and I laughed. As we took our seats again I noticed that other people had been staring at us. I did not have a problem with that in the slightest. Let them stare; for once they had something favorable to look upon.

The rest of the opera was enjoyable, but it passed nearly unnoticed to me. I kept reliving Gemma's performance…her gift to me. Nothing could have been more perfect; there was nothing I wanted more. She had given me the thrill of hearing one of my own original pieces played. What was more, I was allowed to bask in the light of the success of my work…the success of Gemma's voice. I did not have to hide in shadow, listening to the labor of my love from afar. Gemma was right beside me, her hand over my knee, acknowledging me as the love in her life.

After the opera there was a rather grand party where the socialites mingled with the actors and singers and dancers. I realized that this was a world I had looked in on countless times but never been granted access to…until now.

People still wearing their costumes mixed in with the upper crust like Gemma and her friends; it was all a very loud, bright, inebriated atmosphere in which it was easy to feel slightly disoriented in a fantastically care free sort of way.

Ferretti introduced me to our first client as a business team. His name was Jon Rothschild; a name I immediately recognized as one of the most powerful and rich fixtures in England. These were the sort of people Gemma and her circle cavorted with; the very best of society. At the same time, lowly ballerinas stalked about, hunting for patrons.

Gemma stayed attached to my elbow the entire evening. She listened attentively during my conversation with Rothschild, offering charming and clever comments whenever she saw fit. By the end of our meeting, Gemma had him so wrapped around her little finger that he would have commissioned me to build an outhouse and given me a budget to match that of a small country.

The entire affair was rather, dare I say, fun. With Gemma at my side no one dared to give me a strange look because of my mask. What was more, I never lacked someone to talk to. Never once did I feel awkward or out of place.

After three hours however we were all exhausted. We had been on the go since the early afternoon and Gemma's show. As we made our way out to the streets, Gemma was blinking rapidly; hardly able to stay awake.

As we left I found myself having to bid adieu to quite a few people. Somehow, even people I had never met before knew me and wanted to wish me good night. It was in this way that I saw them.

I almost missed them actually. I had looked in that direction because another anonymous well wisher had spoken up. As my eyes looked over the crowd…there they were. Not just Raoul, but Christine as well.

For a moment my heart stopped, merely out of shock. Three pairs of eyes locked; no one knowing exactly how to react. I kept walking and they made no move to stop me; which was no surprise. It was an odd moment; they saw me, they knew I was there and who I was there with, and I knew they were there together. Yet that was all; our worlds were in different spheres, not to collide.

After that brief moment of shock, I settled back down into contented fatigue. When we reached the hotel we poured ourselves into bed. Gemma nestled close to me due to the frigid temperature of the night.

"I love you," She murmured.

"I love you to,"

With her two shows finished Gemma and the rest of her circle, which I was now a part of, would be heading for Paris. To arrive in time for New Years celebrations we would have to leave speedily. I was able to pack within moments but Gemma and her exorbitant wardrobe was taking longer. Maids from the hotel were helping, actually they were doing the packing themselves, while Gemma and I enjoyed one last cup of tea before we left.

A knock came at the door.

"That must be Daria; I told her to tell me when she was leaving," Gemma said, "Come in!"

It was not Daria. A concierge from the front desk stepped inside, "Someone here to see you Miss," The man stepped aside to reveal Raoul de Chagny standing behind him.

My heart started beating a bit faster as I wondered what on earth the boy was doing here. I looked at Gemma; her face showed no reaction.

"Of course," Gemma said calmly, "Ladies; would you excuse us?" She called to the maids packing her things and they quickly filed out of the room, "You may go as well." Gemma spoke to the concierge and he gave a short bow before he left and shut the door.

Now the three of us stood in a triangle. Raoul looked steadily but nervously back and Gemma and I.

"What is it that you want Raoul?" Gemma spoke first, her voice cold, "We do not have much time before we must leave so speak quickly."

The boy shot her something of a glare, "I debated coming here for weeks; I was not sure I should even bother. Then I decided that even a wicked girl like you should be warned against the kind of man she thinks she is in love with."

"Go to hell," I spat at him. I did not have to stand here and let the little fop insult me in front of Gemma. I took a few steps toward him, fully planning on ringing his neck. I was not a bad man; I had made some mistakes but that was in the past! I had done a lot to distance myself from the darkness in my soul and I would have appreciated some respect for that; the least the stupid boy could do was leave me alone.

Gemma, put her hand on my chest and shook her head, "Oh? And what do you know of my Erik?" She asked him.

Raoul looked over at me with contempt in his eyes, "I know he is mad; I know he is manipulating; I know he has the power to control you and make you do…whatever he wants. I know he was the man once known as the Phantom of the Opera; he used blackmail, violence, and anything else in his power to control his little world. I know he mistakes obsession for love but has no heart…no soul. I know that everything he touches is ruined; I know he turns all in his path to ashes."

Raoul talked faster and louder as his list of grievances against me went on.

"You idiot boy!" I bellowed at him, "How dare you come in here and denounce me! You do not know a thing about me!"

"I know you are a violent swilnderlar! You are probably after her money! Being a ghost not paying as well as it used to?" He shot back at me.

Gemma cocked her head to one side and stepped closer to Raoul. Her voice was low but full of venom. "Blackmail and violence you say? That sounds a lot like Parisian society," Raoul looked taken aback by this statement, "Raoul you have come to me uninvited and unwanted, insulted my intelligence along with the character of the man I love. That means that you have exactly five seconds to get out of here before I rip out your tongue; is that clear?"

"But—he!" Raoul sputtered and pointed at me.

"Bit your tongue boy," I snapped at him, "You are a spoiled, meddling creature, but I don't care anymore. I want nothing to do with you or your wife. You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of." That was not really true; he knew the wickedness I could concoct, but as for any sort of good I could do, he had no idea.

"I know exactly what you are capable of!"

"Raoul you will leave now," Gemma practically hissed, "And I swear to God if I catch wind of any of this information being spread around, and I will know if it is, I will find you in whatever country cottage you and that dancer have take up in and wipe you off the face of this earth; do you understand?"

Raoul shook his head, "I knew I should have known better than to think a devil like you would have the sense to listen."

I stepped toward him so that I was glaring down his nose; I was a good deal taller than him.

"Get out you meddling ass, before I wring your neck for talked to Gemma that way."

Frightened that I was perfectly serious, Raoul shot us both one final glare before he left.

Gemma turned to me immediately, "Erik, does he have any real proof that you were the opera ghost?"

Her question startled me for a moment. Gemma looked very serious and I realized that if Raoul exposed me, life would get ugly, even with Gemma at my side. I thought back to the opera.

"No," I said firmly, "It would be his word against mine."

Gemma let out a huge sigh of relief and came to me, putting her arms around me, "Thank God; he would not dare to report you to anyone unless he had irrefutable proof."

I snorted and shook my head. That damn boy; I was staying out of his life, why on earth could he not grant me the same courtesy? The nerve! To come into my hotel room and stir up my past for Gemma. I hated him for reminding her of what I once was.

"Gemma…it really does not bother you that I was…a ghost?"

She laughed, "Erik you were never a ghost; that would be impossible, even for you. Besides, everyone has something dark in their past…something they would rather keep…locked away."

I stared at her, "Gemma, you know all of my secrets…I know none of yours."

She looked away from me for a moment, staring at the doorway. The maids had appeared again and were bobbing nervously in the doorframe, waiting to see if Gemma was ready for them again.

"Yes, come in," Gemma motioned to them. Her eyes flicked back to me, "Now is not the time darling."

I did not argue with her. I knew Gemma would not have discussed private matters of mine in front of outsiders and I wanted to give her that same respect. However that did not stop me from wondering what exactly Gemma was hiding.

"Erik?" She spoke to me softly.

"Yes?"

"It was good to hear you defend yourself that way." I stared blankly at her and she continued, "I think for a time you did not like yourself very much; I was proud of you when you told that boy he had no idea who you were." She kissed my cheek, "You are worth a lot darling, and I'm happy you know that."

An hour later we left the hotel for good. I felt strange as I walked out of that opulent, mirrored lobby arm in arm with Gemma. I was almost sad to be going. I had come to think of the hotel as a home; a place I thought of very fondly because it was where my relationship with Gemma had been resurrected. Never before had I had such genuinely happy memories to associate with a place. Perhaps we would return the next season.