Okay, so another chapter with major changes, including to the plot and the storyline. This really deviates from the original. This was the chapter at which I had begun to feel dissatisfied with the original and wondered if I wasn't writing myself into a corner.
The next update will probably not be for another week. I had a couple days after leaving my job and I'll start the new one Monday. But I've already started working on it, so please be confident that I will be updating!
Thank you so, so, so much for your reviews. And to Mominator, you are awesome. Your constructive critiques have been great and have REALLY helped! 3
And don't forget if you want updates, see my Tumblr. mandytheo is the handle.
Chapter 51
The door slammed shut behind me, and I started at the sound.
Any color that had remained in my cheeks drained completely away. As I stared at her in dull horror, my world suddenly spun and a wave of nausea and dizziness so acute hit me, and my knees buckled. I lurched toward a chair and sank into it with relief. I stared down at my hands, realizing that they were trembling violently. How could she know? It was impossible!
Christine gave a small cry and hurried to my side, taking my hands in hers. Her dark brown eyes were wide in her small face.
"Genevieve! Whatever is the matter? Are you well?" She knelt before me, and touched my face, which was cold and clammy.
I nodded, taking several deep breaths, pressing a hand to my restless stomach. I closed my eyes, clenching my left hand into my gown until I felt as if I was sufficiently calm.
"I'm well, thank you. Merely a bout of weakness. Perhaps I should have ate more." I straightened, and opened my eyes, looking into hers with a touch of resentment in my gaze. "Please explain yourself, Madame. What concern do you have of my...lover?" I felt offended that the younger woman would simply ask me about such a thing.
Christine had the good grace to blush, lowering her eyes.
"I'm terribly sorry for being so forward, Genevieve. I meant no offense. I thought to make you laugh." She looked up at me through her lashes, but I didn't smile, only deepened my frown. She cleared her throat and stood, stepping away then turning back with a chagrined smile. "Meg has an escort for our dinner tonight, and I did not want you to feel out of place without a supper companion. I wanted to extend an invitation to your suitor. Raoul and I would be pleased if you would bring him tonight. We look forward to making his acquaintance."
I lowered my eyes, feeling decidedly uncomfortable under her innocent smile. I shifted in my seat, and cast a guilty glance at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if Erik even now stood behind it, waiting for me to betray him as my lover. But there was a certain adage about cutting off one's nose to spite one's face, and I would do no such thing. But if he was listening in that insufferable arrogance of his, he would know how much he had hurt me. I looked back to Christine.
"I'm afraid that my...suitor...and I had a falling out. He is no longer interested in me. He's made it know that he wishes to pursue other liasons of a more...satisfying nature." It even hurt to say the words, even after Madame Giry's assurances that he would not do such a thing.
"Oh, that dreadful man!" Christine exclaimed, setting her hands on her hips, looking like a disgruntled porcelain doll. "What a horrible thing to tell you!" She crossed to me, and took my hands in hers. "Well, I daresay it's his loss. You strike me as a very intelligent and interesting woman. He should be ashamed of himself!"
If I hadn't been quite so uncomfortable with the situation, I would have laughed aloud at the expression that must be upon Erik's face. The longer I sat here, the more I felt his unseen presence, his brooding anger. It angered me sorely that he was even now keeping his vigil over my person. Why did he not simply leave me be and go on to these other activities that were apparently suffering from his lack of attention?
I looked up at Christine and squeezed her hand. "Yes, I daresay he should. He's absolutely insufferable. I shall be glad to be rid of him." But my voice broke, and I felt horrified at the rush of hot tears. I covered my brow, pressing my fingers into my forehead, fighting for composure.
I felt Christine slide a slender arm about my shoulders.
"Did he break your heart?" she asked quietly.
I swallowed, regaining my calm, and pressed my damp eyes with the back of my hand.
"I'm afraid he did," I whispered, looking at the floor. "I loved him very much. I would have waited for him, as long as he needed me to, until he felt he could love me back."
The room grew silent, the only sound Christine clearing her throat before she spoke again:
"How do you feel about him now?"
I sighed, and stood, shaking loose my skirts. I stepped over to the table and idly flipped through my sketchbook, until I came to the brief illustration I'd done of my idea for Christine's Bal Masque costume. It took me a moment to answer, knowing that anything I would say would be heard by him.
"I want to hate him."
"But you cannot?"
"No, I cannot. Though it would be very easy to."
I turned and walked over to a nearby chair, swirling my cloak off of my shoulders and draping it over. I picked up my measuring tape and unwound it from its coil.
Across from me, Christine sat gracefully, arranging the skirts of her robin egg blue carriage dress.
"What happened, if I may be so bold. You seemed so happy yesterday."
I lifted my brows, casting my eyes aside, then pulled a chair out and sank into it.
"He, my...paramour, had been hurt, very badly, by another woman. He couldn't seem to trust enough that I would not do the same. That I would not leave him for another. He distrusts me, he believes I want more from him than simply...him. He accused me of...such things, then left. He told me that he wished to entertain other ladies and had lost interest in me. He didn't give me a chance to speak, to make my thoughts known. He simply left."
Christine gave me a sympathetic smile, her eyes soft.
"Is the woman he once loved still in love with him?"
I shook my head.
"No. She cares for him, but doesn't want him or love him. She belongs to another."
"Does he know this?"
"He has been made aware of that fact, yes." I was unable to keep my voice from becoming bitter as I spoke again: "I believe it was not her lack of feeling that hurt him, but the way in which she left. She made him believe that there was hope for them, made a choice, but then when the decision was left open to her, she chose another and left him without a word." Not so unlike the way in which he left me. "She left him with only a small token to remember her by, but didn't even say goodbye." My words were cold and disdainful, my anger rising at her inability to not even give Erik that much. His inability to not even say it to my face.
The room fell into a hushed silence, neither of us speaking to the other, my resentment toward both her and Erik palpable. I hoped fervently that he knew how I felt, how used and small he had made me feel.
A small sob came from across the room and I looked up, startled to see Christine with her hand over her mouth, a tear sliding down her ivory cheek. I instantly felt horrible, ashamed of myself for speaking and acting so coldly. This young woman was a mere child, barely twenty, and had made the choice most girls of her age would have made. If I had been in her shoes as the nineteen year old me, I would have probably done the very same thing. It was cruel of me to expect more from this girl.
I stood, and came to her, kneeling in front of her skirts, and taking her trembling hands in my own.
"Are you well, Madame?" I asked softly.
She nodded and wiped her eyes, choking back another sob. It was a long moment before she spoke.
"Do you remember my telling you of the circumstances surrounding my leaving the Opera?"
I nodded, feeling very awkward.
"What you just spoke of...it reminded me so much of the awful way that I left Erik. I didn't even have the decency to speak to him! To tell him how I felt about him! To explain myself to him! I just placed my ring in his hand and left!" She bowed her head, sobbing once more and I only squeezed her small hand tighter, unsure of what to do.
"When I kissed him, it was only to save Raoul's life. I knew that if I didn't stay with Erik, he would kill my fiancee, and I couldn't bear the thought of watching him die at the hands of my maestro. After I kissed him I knew that he would let us go. He started crying. Oh, Genevieve! He cried so pitifully, and all I could think about was that I'd won. Raoul and I would go free." She took several deep breaths to steady herself, while I turned my face away. I was unable to bear the thought of Erik's tears. "I feel so horrid that I did not even say goodbye to him! That his first and last kiss should be one of pleading and guilt! Because of me, he'll never be kissed or touched with love. He'll never know a lover or any further compassion..."
She burst into tragic tears once more, and I simply stared at her, unable to believe that Christine would think that Erik would never find someone to love him because he would never be able to forget her. She expected him to wallow in grief all the days of his life, pining for her. I knew that she was a sweet, good-natured young woman with a kind heart. But I was coming to realize she was also very childish. And maybe even a bit selfish.
She lifted her head and looked into my eyes, her own swimming with tears.
"He'll die alone, never knowing what it is to be loved."
I could take no more, and I stood, walking away from her.
"I wish he could have met you."
I turned at her soft comment, my brow furrowing.
"Why is that?"
"Because you are so much more strong willed than I could ever be. You always appear so cool headed and confident, so sure of yourself. I think he would have enjoyed your company."
I smiled slightly, and looked down.
"I wish I could have known him as well."
We were quiet, her sitting in the chair, staring at her skirts, and me facing the mirrors.
Finally she broke the silence by sighing softly and standing.
"Please forgive me for burdening you with this, Genevieve, especially when you are hurting so badly yourself." She gave me a soft smile, and I softened towards her a bit. It was difficult to be angry at this young woman for very long. She could not help that streak of childish selfishness, a common enough trait among girls her age. Heaven knows I'd been the same way at the age of twenty. Perhaps the birth of her child would change that.
I assured her that she had not troubled me, and picked my measuring tape back up.
"I take it you are here for your measurements, Madame?"
She agreed and removed her pelisse, then came to stand before me. I drew the table about her abdomen and my fingers encountered the very slight knot of her lower belly.
"Perhaps we should leave a bit of extra room in the waistline?" I laughed softly in her ear. She giggled.
"It probably would not hurt. I am nearly three months with child. And I am thoroughly exasperated with this troublesome sickness I am afflicted with every morning, afternoon, and evening. It is such a bother!"
I smiled, the familiar pain of a lost child drawing tight in my throat. I had been consistently ill with my stomach and afflicted with sick nerves throughout the course of my marriage. It was no wonder that I had not recognized the signs of my pregnancy before I lost the babe. If only I had been able to feel, to know the difference, perhaps I would have been able to get away from Armand sooner, before the night he robbed me of my fertility. But hell is filled with what if's and if only's and sinners overflowing with regrets; I was of the living, and I needed to let go.
"When did you know you were expecting?" I asked as I held her arms out and measured her shoulders. I couldn't deny this girl her happiness, and I knew she wanted to be questioned over this joy.
"You will think I am quite silly, but I knew only a couple of weeks later. I immediately noticed differences in my...bosom...and I had bouts of dizziness right away. It was weeks before we could be certain, and I did not want to speak of it to Raoul until I was quite sure, but I knew right away."
She fell quiet, a dreamy look upon her face, and I continued my work as she dreamed of her future.
The rest of the afternoon flew by in a flurry of activity. I had no time to linger upon my hurt, which I was thankful for. I buried myself in my work and in my blessed numbness.
After Christine departed, the rest of the cast filed in one by one and I completed my measurements. The twins, who had returned from their lunch, copied them into our notes. I also made notations in my sketchbook for those who had given me commissions for their Bal Masque costumes.
We were completely finished with our lists of measurements within a few hours. Jeanette, Marie, and I then gathered at one of the tables and spread the previous lists we'd made of each separate garment, and created a new list of how much material we would need for each piece. Tomorrow would be spent shopping for the goods that we would need to create the costumes.
A glance at the clock revealed that it was time for the night's performance and the three of us hurried to gather our sewing kits, tucking them in the pockets of our skirts.
The evening's performance was uneventful and ran very smoothly. Only minor alterations and repairs had to be made throughout the night.
The only moment of the performance that was not idyllic was a brief outbreak of short, half terrified, half amused shrieks from the gaggle of ballet girls gathered backstage waiting for their cue. I rushed over to hush them and they grabbed onto me, their eyes wide with fear and excited horror.
"The Phantom of the Opera!" One squealed, and my face went white.
"...What?"
She pointed at the catwalk above, and I caught a swirl of black against black. My heart rose in my throat and I peered into the darkness, trying desperately to catch another glimpse, but I saw nothing. Don't do this, Erik.
I calmed the young dancers, convincing them they'd seen nothing, blaming the movement in the flies on trickster stagehands.
I left them giggling uneasily among themselves, but I was in no mood to laugh.
After the performance, I fought my way through the crowd of cast, staff, and patrons to my new room, the backstage area pandemonium. I struggled with my key as porters rushed past me, large arrangements of roses in their hands. I opened my door finally, stumbling in as I was nearly shoved through by a particularly large man carrying a massive bouquet nearly three feet wide. I shut the door firmly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, sighing with relief at the quiet of my small home. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and realized there was not much time before I was to meet Meg and the Chagnys. I hurried to the closet.
But before I could open the wardrobe, a knock came at the door and I groaned aloud, closing my eyes briefly before answering the summons. Meg stood on the other side, a smile on her face.
"I'm off to change into my dinner dress. Should I meet you here after I have changed?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Yes, allow me about fifteen minutes and I shall be dressed as well. Are we to meet the others in the Foyer?"
"Yes, Christine said that her and Raoul shall have their carriage waiting outside in the Plaza. My escort will meet us there as well." She gave me a coy smile, her expression practically begging me to ask her about her new beau.
"Alright, Meg. Who is it, since you are obviously frantic to tell me!"
She wiggled her brows, and gave me a cheeky grin.
"Monsieur Devre deLuc."
I paled, staring at her, but she did not notice, so preoccupied with her thoughts. I swallowed, and grasped her arm.
"Meg, do you know what sort of man Monsieur deLuc is?" I let my worry infuse my voice.
She rolled her eyes and sighed.
"I've heard all the tales, of course, but when he looks at me..." she sighed dreamily, her soft green eyes fluttering shut. "He's had many lovers, I know, but he loves me. And he says that he cannot imagine being with any other woman but me. Oh Genevieve, I do believe I love him!"
I stepped back from her, my hand straying to my throat.
"Meg, please do not tell me that you have..." I'll have that bastard's head on a platter if he has...
She blushed deeply and shook her head.
"No! Of course not! Maman raised me better than that, I assure you!"
I made no effort to stifle my sigh of relief, sagging against the doorway.
"Well, there's that at least.." I took her hands in mine, not wanting to hurt her or destroy her illusions, but relieved that she had not done such a stupid thing. But she didn't give me time to speak further.
"I must be going, and you must change! I'll be here as soon as I have dressed." She left in a flurry of aqua chiffon and I shut the door, but not before craning my head out the door and watching her go. The notion that the oily Devre was paying her court worried me deeply.
I turned with a sigh and moved to the closet once again, taking my hair out of the snood to redress it. I laid the netting upon the dresser and began shifting through my gowns.
"Whatever am I going to wear?" I murmured to myself, as I took out several gowns, but rehung them as unsuitable. I had never had the chance to create any evening gowns for myself, finding the notion a foolish one as I was asked out to formal occasions very rarely.
Finally I lifted out my amber taffeta and black lace gown, the only true dinner gown I owned, and laid it across the bed. I wriggled out of the scarlet wool dress as quickly as I could and draped it over a chair, then adjusted my corset and chemise. I reached for the amber gown.
I nearly shrieked as a pair of arms grabbed me roughly from behind and whirled me about. I was pressed to the wall, my arms pinned on either side of my body before I could even take a breath.
Erik stood before me, his mismatched eyes dark with rage, the right side of his face covered by the cold white mask, the left set in harsh lines of anger, his teeth bared. I opened my mouth, outraged by his audacity, ready to give him a verbal lashing.
"Did you enjoy that, Genevieve?! Talking to her about me? Asking your sly little questions, knowing I was listening?! Going on and on about how...happy!...she is with that boy!" He spat at me, his voice ugly with hatred. "And you! Pretending you're just so very distraught over the ending of our affair. I almost believed that grief in your voice was real, Madame. Have I told you what a fine actress you are!"
My jaw dropped in shock, then snapped shut. With a cry, I shoved him from me as hard as I could. He stumbled back and I pursued him farther into the room, furious that after all he'd put me through this morning, he would dare barge into my room and throw such words at me.
"How dare you, you arrogant bastard!" I whispered fiercely, poking him hard in his chest. "You left me! You left that letter, you dumped me in my room, changed the mechanism! Not the other way around. And if I choose to have a conversation with someone who has sought me out, I will do so!"
His visible brow lowered and he growled, lunging at me, his gloved hands capturing my bare arms in his. He opened his mouth, no doubt to roar at me, but I pressed a hand against his mouth, trying to ignore the familiar firmness of his lips against my palm.
"This room is not as private as my former one, Erik! If you wish to be caught and hung by the authorities, then that is your concern, but I refuse to argue with you here!" I freed myself from his hands and rushed to lock the door. My heart was pounding hard at the sight of him, here in this new environment, his form attired in his immaculate trousers and a white shirt, buttoned to his throat, his hands in black leather gloves. Just the feel of his body against mine, even in anger, made me want him.
He was behind me in an instant, turning me about. "As you wish!"
I had no time to react as he bent at the waist, and tossed me over his shoulder, one arm going iron tight across my back. He turned toward the darkened corner of my room and I gaped as the wall, the wall slid open to reveal a passageway. I hissed at him and began to pound my fists on his back, demanding he put me down.
A heavy hand came down hard across my bottom under the chemise and I fell silent in outrage, my shock lasting long enough for the paneling to slide shut behind us. He set me down roughly and I stumbled back. As soon as I righted myself, I flew at him, my palm striking him sharply across his left cheek.
"You have no right to order me about and cart me around like a damned sack of potatoes! You open that now and let me back in! You are ridiculous!"
"Why? Why would you speak to her about me? It is private between us, Genevieve! She has no right hearing about it! It is between us!" His voice was beginning to rise in volume, something more than outrage between the lines of his words as he crowded me against the stone wall with his body. I shoved at him, not able to move him so easily this time.
"What is between us? Nothing! Remember that letter, Erik! Remember it! It's over! You won't have me any longer!"
"It was ours! She has no right, no right to hear about it, to speak on it, to pretend that she cares if I spent the rest of my life alone! NO! RIGHT!"
All went silent between us, so that I could hear even the faint, echoing drip of water down the damper parts of the walls, the quiet hum of the electricity. I stared up at him, seeing beyond my own pain, my own outrage and to the cause of this outburst.
"Erik...she's so young...young enough that the world spins around her and she doesn't realize how very small her own little world is. Could I have told her what we had? Did I tell her what we had? No...how could I? You're angry at her for assuming you've never found anyone else and angry at me for talking with her about it, even though I said very little about it. She asked...I answered." I sagged against the wall, lifting one hand to shove the curls that had come loose from his hauling me around. "You can assume all you wish that I was playacting, but the simple truth is you broke my heart."
He hissed in a long breath and I watched his eyes narrow, then close as he turned away from me.
"You certainly move fast then, for having a broken heart, Genevieve! You were gone from that room and my presence with great haste!" His voice was mocking, all traces of beauty gone.
My fury returned almost immediately.
"You left me! You wrote that cruel letter and you left me, without even saying goodbye!" I covered my mouth, turning away as my voice broke. "You wished me gone from your life, and I obeyed your wishes. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? It was alright for me to suffer under the memory of you, while you were able to make good your escape!" I shut my eyes tightly as the tears burned in them.
He grasped my chin and turned me toward him.
"This shouldn't be so hard on you...you can move on. You will move on, Genn. I will not...but that is how it must be. I found some measure of peace in my solitude before...I can find it again."
I stared up at him through my tears. And the sight of his own eyes, glowing in the light of the torches in the passageway, a sheen of unshed emotion across them, made me suddenly realize that Madame Giry had been right. The letter had been nothing but lies. He left me because he didn't trust me not to do as Christine had done. Leave him alone and broken once again.
I reached up and stroked his left cheek.
"Do you know what would happen if I moved on with another man, Erik?" I whispered. "I would open my eyes and want to see your face above me. I would touch his back, and wish to feel your scars. I would kiss him and wish it was you I was tasting. I would pretend it was you." I moved until I could wrap my arms hesitantly about his waist, and laid my head upon his chest.
He was still against me until he lowered his head and kissed my temple. My eyes shut on the bittersweet pain of his lips brushing my skin. I knew that the matters that lay between us were far from resolved. He still did not trust me. But I couldn't deny myself this precious moment of contact between us.
"Genevieve..." he whispered thickly and I felt his long, gloved fingers sink into my hair, closing over my nape and the heat of his breath warmed my lips. I quickly pulled away, raising my head to look at him.
I stepped back from him slowly and raised my head and looked at him.
"I have to go," I said, my heart heavy. Meg would be at my door soon and if she didn't find me there...and matters between Erik were going nowhere. It hurt too much to even be standing here with him and feel so apart from him.
He straightened, his mismatched eyes shuttering till I could no longer see what he was feeling. "And so do I. Enjoy your dinner with...them." His eyes told me nothing, but his sneer was full of disdain as he lifted a hand towards the wall and the mechanism slid the panel open quietly. Before I could say anything more or try to touch him again and just make this that much harder, I stepped through quickly. The panel slid shut before I could even turn.
I moved woodenly to my bed and sat. Then simply dropped my head into my hands and let the tears coating my throat and churning in my stomach come.
I didn't indulge myself long. My tears spent as far as I would let them, I washed my face in the basin on my dresser and redressed my hair.
"Genevieve! Are you ready?"
Meg was knocking at my door.
"I'll meet you down there!" I shouted as I dropped my hands from my coiffure and picked up my gown wiggling into it.
She gave her assent, and I heard her retreating footsteps.
I blew the hair out of my eyes and struggled with the clasps on the front of my gown.
The numbness was gone and pain had replaced it, but it was a pain I could control, that I could push past and function with regardless. His own pain had driven his actions and that added a slight comfort.
I couldn't make him love me and I couldn't make him trust me. All I could do was go on and hope I could handle it each time our paths were destined to cross.
