Chapter 33
Surfacing and A Surprise
As Meg was straightening up the Louis-Philippe room even an hour later, she couldn't make her hands stop trembling. She hardly dared to even think about the room she had found, and how close to death she had been in it. She couldn't forget that it would only have taken one quick act of violence, and her body could have been hidden down here forever. Maybe it was safest that Erik was forcing her to leave immediately.
She just hoped she hadn't messed up her own plans too much. There was one bright side, though – even though she had probably taken a huge step backwards in the trust department by snooping again, the fact that Erik had not hit her, shaken her, yelled at her, or even threatened her was quite encouraging. If he wasn't as angry this time, or was at least able to control himself enough not to kill her, perhaps it meant he was at least a little more comfortable with the thought of her being around.
Once the room had been straightened, the bathroom cleaned, and the bed made, Meg took one last look around the room and sighed. It was really such a beautiful room – a beautiful house, really – that she was very reluctant to return to the surface. Even if she had been sick while down here, Meg felt better after the period of rest and wasn't very excited to return to the daily grind of endless rehearsals that was the life of a ballet rat.
A quiet but firm knock on the door told her that Erik thought it was time for her to leave. Holding the nightgown she had been wearing when brought down here, Meg reluctantly opened the large oak door to face her host.
"Do you mind if I borrow this dress?" she asked, not wanting to have to return in her nightshift unless absolutely necessary.
Erik considered the question for a minute. He didn't honestly mind lending the dress; he could get it back from her room at any time. The only question was if Christine would recognize it as one he had given her. He decided that she wouldn't; he had stocked the wardrobe with several new dresses and Christine had not worn them all. And as much as he adored her, he had to admit that sometimes observation was not her strong suit.
"You may wear it for today," he conceded, and then turned from Meg to lead her from his house. Meg was taken aback at the suddenness with which he wanted her to leave, but she supposed that lengthy goodbyes with unwanted houseguests or pawns in his games were not high on Erik's list of priorities. So, clutching her music folder and nightdress to her chest, she quietly followed Erik out of his little house on the lake to where his midnight-black gondola rested on the gravelly shores of the underground waters. At Erik's motion, Meg stepped into the small boat, easily stepping along the center line so that she did not rock the craft. She sat in the curving, gilded prow as Erik stepped softly in behind her and raised his ferrying pole.
A short while later, Erik was leading Meg through the twisting series of passages and trapdoors in the Opera's sublevels. This was the first time Meg had been conscious for the trip, and she spent the whole passage trying to memorize their progress while seeming like she was absorbed in her thoughts. She wasn't sure how well it would work, but she wanted to be able to get a hold of Erik in case she needed to. After what she guessed was about twenty minutes of walking, Erik came to a halt in a corridor where thick beams of light cut through the gloom. They stopped in one of the light patches, and, as Meg's eyes slowly adjusted after the long trip through the darkness, she recognized her own bedroom. She was obviously looking from the point of view of the full-length mirror. Well, at least this settled how Erik had been able to sneak into her room, to threaten her or leave her thorny flowers. She was almost disappointed. Knowing took some of the magic out of Erik's mystery.
Erik reached out with one bony, gloved hand, and though Meg couldn't see precisely what he touched, the mirror pane gave a soft hiss and slid a fraction of an inch into one side of its thick oak frame. Erik moved to open the mirror passage fully, but Meg placed a hand lightly on the two-way glass to stop him.
"Could we go to my mother's room first?" she asked softly. "I want her to see me first."
After a brief moment of consideration, Erik's softly glowing mask inclined in a nod. He had developed a fondness for Antoinette Giry, after accidentally hearing what she had done to protect her daughter during Meg's fevered nightmares. He placed his palm flat on the glass and slid the mirror until it locked back into its frame with a soft click.
Without bothering to indicate for Meg to follow him, Erik headed back down the barely lit hallway the way they had come. Now Meg could follow where these hidden corridors lay, since she was so familiar with the route from her own room to her mother's.
After walking through the darkness for a few more minutes, they came to a small side hall with another faint shaft of light cutting the shadows. They approached the beam of light, and Meg could see her mother's room beyond.
Antoinette Giry sat on her small makeup stool, brushing her hair, a tired, empty look in her eyes. Her face looked paler and more heavily lined than Meg had last seen it, and she looked thinner as well. Meg was filled with sorrow and guilt, but as Erik reached out to open the mirror, she again reached out to stop him.
She turned to face him and looked him square in his softly glowing eyes. Very solemnly, she said, "Thank you. For everything."
Erik considered her for several long seconds. Finally he answered, "I'll see you around," and without another word he depressed the button that opened the mirror.
At the sound of a faint rushing of air, Antoinette Giry was pulled out of her depressing thoughts, her eyes refocusing onto the mirror in front of her. In the reflection of her bedroom, in front of her mirror, stood her dear lost Megara! Could this be real?
"Bonjour, Maman," said the apparition, in a soft voice.
At the sound, Madame Giry spun to face the room. It was her daughter, returned to her at last! She leapt up, and the two women embraced tearfully.
After several minutes, when emotions had subsided, Meg uncertainly took a deep breath. She wasn't sure how to explain where she'd been for the past eight days. She also wasn't sure how much Erik would want her to tell. But before she could begin, her mother stepped back, smoothed her skirts, and picked up her hairbrush.
"Well, rehearsals have already begun for Il Muto, but I managed to convince them to not give away your role. You won the part of the Maid, you know?" Meg nodded, still slightly confused at her mother's attitude, and Antoinette continued. "Anyway, rehearsals for the Masquerade Ball will begin next week, since we have to get the dance routine ready for New Years's. But first, we have another Il Muto rehearsal late tonight, and I should get you caught up on a few of the steps and where you've been for the past week. We can't expect Monsieur DuGaulle to assign someone a named role and then accept that person simply not showing up for rehearsal without some sort of explanation."
Meg nodded knowingly. It would be just like they had done for Christine – covered for her time with Erik. A small wave of annoyance crossed her mind. What made Erik think that he could just kidnap whomever he chose, and she and her mother would cover for him?
Probably the fact that we do, Meg thought resignedly, and returned her attention to her mother.
"Since no one asked for more details when we said Christine was with a friend in the city, I haven't given any more details than that. So you can make up details as you need to – just make sure you're consistent." As she spoke, Mme Giry twisted her hair up into a tight bun, and once she was finished she stood briskly. "Now, for the routines. How much to you know?"
It appeared that her mother was not going to ask where she had actually been. Meg was grateful, but she suspected that the gesture was actually born out of some misguided reverence of the mystical Opera Ghost. In any case, Antoinette did not comment when Meg told her that she had already practiced the music but only had heard the associated dance steps.
Madame Giry nodded, and for the next hour or so, the two women ran through the series of moves in the Maid and Chorus scenes that had already been covered during rehearsals. It wasn't enough to truly learn them by any means, but it would be enough to keep Meg from being incredibly behind once rehearsal started. Most important to go over were Meg's scenes as the Maid, when her movement was a key facet of the story. Also, those were the scenes involving the show's principles, and Meg couldn't afford to cause a redo in a scene with the truly important performers, especially after being absent for so many rehearsals.
From somewhere within the corridors of the Opera House, a clock chimed the supper hour as Meg was adding a final scribbled dance note to one of the pages in Erik's thick leatherbound notebook. Reluctantly, she set aside her mother's quill and sighed.
"I guess that's my cue," she said. "I guess I should go make my excuses." After a quick glance in the mirror to affirm that she did still look like she was recovering from an illness (without any makeup, she did), Meg kissed her mother on both cheeks, hugged her again, then headed off alone towards the Opera Populaire's dining room.
Overall, Meg's reappearance didn't go as badly as she thought it would. True, when she entered, the high-ceilinged room went strangely quiet, and the men and women seated on benches beside the long tables all turned their heads in her direction, and, yeah, when she flushed with embarrassment she did become a little lightheaded, but she was able to find her friends fairly quickly. Christine, Marie, and Julie sat on either side of the table to the far right of the hall, their expressions a mixture of relief and concern as Meg walked quickly over to join them. While Christine just eyed her strangely, Julie and Marie began pouring questions and exclamations of joy and snippets of Opera gossip so quickly that their identical voices tumbled over one another and meshed into one high-pitched stream of nonsense. Slowly, Meg began to smile. After what seemed like so long in Erik's dark world, she'd forgotten how much she missed her silly friends.
Finally, Christine interrupted the twins' stream of chatter. "I'm sure Meg needs to build her strength back up, so could one of you go get her some dinner?"
Julie leapt up with a "Mais, oui! Be right back!" and rushed off to where the kitchen staff had set platters and bowls of food on a long oak table.
Now that the barrage of talk had ceased, Meg quickly and quietly explained to Christine and Marie that she had been in the city, with a friend of her mother's so that she could recover in peace without the risk of contaminating anyone. Marie accepted the story without the need of supporting details, but Christine's large doe eyes narrowed. It suddenly occurred to Meg that if Erik had been too preoccupied with her to visit Christine, then the sudden silence would likely seem suspicious.
When Julie returned bearing a tray with a bowl of chicken soup and a few slices of bread, Marie quickly repeated Meg's explanation. As Julie nodded in understanding, Meg smiled again. Sometimes it was good to have friends who would believe you without question.
After dinner, the twins hurried in front of Meg to clear a path to rehearsal through the questioning crowd, while Christine hung back with a suspicious look on her face. She grabbed Meg's arm a little too tightly, and Meg thought she could see a slightly wild look in those big brown eyes.
"Where were you, really?" Christine demanded, her whisper harsh. "That was the same story you gave when I was gone, and—"
Meg cut her off. "How do you think we were able to come up with the story when you went missing?" she answered in her own hiss. "Because Maman has a friend from church that lives in the city, and she's offered to let someone stay with her in the past." She carefully removed Christine's iron grip from her arm. "Because we knew it was a possibility, we were able to use it as an excuse when you were gone. And now that I was actually sick, we were able to use the offer for real."
Christine visibly relaxed as Meg spoke. The wild light faded from her eyes, replaced by her normal kind, soft glow. She smiled. "Well, I'm sorry that you had to take your mother's friend up on her offer for real, but I am glad that you're back now." She gave Meg a swift hug, and then the two girls followed in Marie and Julie's wake towards the costume shoppe.
Rehearsal went much better than Meg had anticipated. After a temporary costume alteration to compensate for her recent weight loss from her illness, Meg joined the other chorus girls in a run-through of the Forest Dance. It was a scene near the end of the first act, largely intended to represent the change of seasons and the blooming love of the Countess and her new lover. It was one of the scenes that Meg had been able to listen to during her stay in Erik's home, so she was able to follow along fairly well, and the biggest problem was that none of the props for the scene were finished. After a brief run of the dance, a call went out to assemble the cast for the opening scene. This would be the scene that always got the most rehearsal time, as everyone knew that it was the most important scene of the play. After all, sometimes the opening scene was the only one that the majority of the audience would be awake for!
This was one moment that Meg had been dreading. As soon as Carlotta Guidichelli was called in to the auditorium, Meg knew that she would have a barrage of snide things to say about her absence.
Unfortunately, she was correct. Carlotta's presence in the auditorium was announced by a strident "Well, well, well." All heads turned watch the diva striding across the stage, a flurry of pink fur and feathers. "I see that little miss slug-a-bed has finally decided to join us." She turned to Piangi, who was huffing and puffing along slightly behind her. "What was it that was so special about this skinny rat that made us hold her spot for her, while the truly talented performers were forced to attend these dreary and unnecessary rehearsals?" Piangi gave a wheezy smile and nodded. Carlotta didn't seem to notice and continued. "Now we shall have to start all over, it seems."
Meg didn't see what all of the fuss was about. They hadn't even been rehearsing for a full week yet. She was about to say so, when a soft cough from behind interrupted both her and Carlotta's next words.
"My daughter's return is not the only change that seems in store for this cast today," came her mother's voice with barely suppressed anger.
"Ahem, yes," Monsieur Giles Andre added, stepping forward to join the ballet mistress. "It seems there have been some… casting changes."
A puzzled silence swept over the stage. Carlotta put her pink-gloved hands on her hips and shifted her weight indignantly, the clear picture of someone who was fixing to unleash a lot of anger on someone.
Monsieur Firmin suddenly broke in in a loud voice, "Madame Guidichelli, you have been recast to the role of the Pageboy. Mademoiselle Daae, you have been recast as the Countess."
There was absolute quiet on the stage. The two new managers hurriedly scurried off the stage, leaving Antoinette Giry standing alone in front of a stunned and silent cast.