Wow, thank you so much for all of the reviews for the previous chapter!
Dona Lara: Thank you! Don't worry, I have something wonderful planned for the next chapters to come!
michellecariveau: I'm glad that you're so excited. If I had more time, I would have posted more for you. But I hope that your patience will be rewarded, soon!
Fairytailx15, Filhound, 1AmberSkye1: Aw, thanks!
TheCrimsonPen: I know, right? I want to dress all fancy and dance! My dream costume would be some elegant, poofy and sparkly dress, probably of silk and maybe red (my favorite color). I would want a glittery/jeweled mask with peacock feathers on it. Or maybe the dress that I described in this story. What about your dream costume?
A.B.P: I love your review!
***I know that you guys all think you have it pegged...they'll go to a Masquerade and bond, then something/someone will get in the way and drama will ensue...perhaps Christine or Jonathan...but wait until you see what surprise I have in store for you! As I said before, this story will not be predictable.
Ch. 46
Only the sounds of the crackling fire and the soft ticks of the clock filled the room, as Alinah passed the time by reading a book. Dinner was to be prepared soon, but she had finished everything early for the day, and time was going very slowly. She reasoned that it was because she was eager for the next day to begin, and her anticipation slowed the concept of time.
"Ms. Claude, a letter has arrived for you," Mr. Harris announced. He noticed the young woman, with her back turned to him, reading quietly beside the fireplace.
She glanced up from her page and saw him standing in the doorway, holding an envelope. She gingerly set down her book on the divan and rose to her feet. Once the letter was placed in her hands, he left her to her privacy.
She walked back to the divan and slowly took a seat, distracted by the thoughts of receiving a note. She worried that perhaps it was Jonathan, or maybe even worse. Would it be about Walter's death? Had someone noticed the Mistress' absence? Was someone after the Phantom of the Opera? Her breath caught in her throat when she read the sender's name and she opened it with trembling fingers.
"Dearest Alinah,
I have allowed some time to pass before writing to you, so that I should avoid raising suspicion. I fear that someone has broken into my home while I was away, and they have stolen your letters to me-I found the box that I kept them in shattered to bits on the floor. I am afraid that I do not know who could have done this, and I pray that they do not find you, although I know that they probably will.
I do hope that you are not in any danger because of what has happened. Please write to me as soon as you can, and assure me that you are safe. I cannot rest until I know. I have included my sister's address of residence so that your letter may be kept hidden from others.
Elinor."
Surprised, Alinah reread the words again, and then she sighed with relief. Her heart had been weighed down with thoughts of being betrayed by her trusted friend, but receiving the letter had eased her mind. After all, it was not beyond Vivienne to do such a heinous thing, and Elinor had been a sort of mother-figure to Alinah. She should have known better than to blame her dear friend.
She was eager to respond, and she went to fetch a few sheets of paper and set about to writing. How she longed to see the elderly woman once again, as her last visit had been cut short, but she knew that it was too much of a risk to do so anytime soon. This thought made her heart wilt within her chest.
Though she had not known Elinor for very long, in those few short moments, the woman had been more of a loving mother than her own flesh and blood.
Her thoughts wandered to her birth mother; a woman of four-and-forty years old, with graying brown hair and eyes hardened with fatigue. While Alinah had been a perfect mixture of her parents in her appearance, she found that she could never relate to them as a child and young adult.
Her father was much older than her mother, and all of his hair was a dark silver, accompanied by a thick mustache on his top lip. He wore round spectacles about the nose, and was often seen with a pipe of tobacco in his mouth. A man of very little wealth himself, he had married her mother with barely a penny to her name.
On the rare occasions that her father was home, he would have been seen in his study. It was a small room, but the little desk sitting in the corner of it had been enough to keep him occupied for hours. He was almost non-existent, for when he had joined them once-in-a-while for a meal, his conversation had always been lacking. Only a few grumbled words would escape his lips, if he should be obligated to answer a question by his wife.
She could never understand the reason for her parents' marriage, as the two were opposite in personalities and rarely even dined together, let alone were seen in public with each other. Often, her mother would be surrounded by her own friends, laughing and gossiping, but Alinah could see the sadness behind her eyes whenever she should gaze across the room at her husband.
As far as his daughter was concerned, he left the duties of raising her to her mother. As a little girl, she had often tried to impress her father with an interest of hers in order to gain his attention if she should catch a glimpse of him somewhere, but most times he would walk past her without so much as a word. At the tender age of five years old, she remembered crying once, as the urge for him to hold her had been overpowering, yet he hadn't even cast a glance at her. Eventually, she had hardened her heart and became indifferent to his cold behavior, though during certain moments, her feelings would resurface and she would withdraw into her own silent bouts of depression.
Her mother, on the other hand, always seemed to have something to say to her. It seemed as if everything that Alinah had done would displease her mother, and she knew that not a single day would pass by without a reprimanding of some sort. Whether it be that she had dirtied her dress from playing outside, or she hadn't folded her linen correctly, she was certain to hear an earful.
"You must act like a lady!" she would chide. "You will never find a husband at this rate!"
It had been the desire of both parents for her to marry well. A rich, handsome man for a husband would have been the greatest gift that her mother could receive, and when Walter had appeared in her life, her mother had been ecstatic. Even after they had been married and Walter had showed signs of agression, her mother would justify his behavior by blaming it on Alinah.
"If you would only be cooperative, you stubborn girl! It is no wonder that he should behave in such a way!" she reasoned. "And are you ever going to produce a grandchild? The man should not have to wait his entire life for you to produce an heir!"
She had grown up feeling unworthy and incapable of being loved. Her mother's ridiculously-high expectations were impossible for Alinah to meet. As cruel as her parents had been, she had still longed for their compassion and affection. When she began to court Walter, he had somewhat filled that void with his charm and romanticism, only to rip a deeper hole into her heart later.
She also had had no friends or companions to confide in. She was often the odd one in social circles, as most other girls her age were brought up as accomplished young ladies and basked in their family's wealth. She could not find anything in common with rude and sometimes mean-hearted girls, and the thought of competing with them for a suitor had intimidated her. To them, courting was a game, and one that would not be conquered by the poor and lanky girl that she had been.
Cooking had been her passion in life, and one occupation that had saved her. She found that she could will her sorrows away with a warm soup or ease her troubled mind with a chocolate trifle. When she was creating dishes, she was a different person; a woman of confidence, fearlessness and a bright smile. How quickly Walter had extinguised that within her, and even went so far as to banish her from her love of cooking for many years.
Alinah repressed her gloomy thoughts and focused on the blank pages before her. Then, she began to write.
"Dear Elinor,
I cannot deny that something awful has happened. The person who did this was my late husband's Mistress, and she was seeking revenge for his death. It is such an awful memory that I do not wish to recount it, but I feel that I should, for your sake.
When she arrived...I shiver to think of the callous glint in her eyes as she sought to end my life. A fellow servant noticed my absence, as I had taken a stroll in the wilderness and she had found me there, and he distracted her momentarily. He wished to save my life, but he was gravely injured by her. Do not worry, for he is safe now-and far away from here.
My employer, too, came to my rescue. He struggled with her and was injured, but it resulted in her death. This is the very same man of whom I was telling you about, and I owe my life to him.
I am safe for the present moment, but I fear that the future may not be the same. Because some time has passed, I am almost certain that no one else shall find me for a while, but I cannot say the same for my Master. Oh, Elinor, I cannot tell you of his secrets, but he is misunderstood. His past haunts him, and there are others out there who seek him out. He is not a wicked man, mind you, and I am safe with him. But I fear for him.
Please let me know if you have received this letter. I wish so very much that I could see you again, but I shall settle for your response.
With Regards,
Alinah."
She set the quill down and gently blew on the paper to dry the ink. Once she was certain that it was ready, she folded it and sealed it before she set off in search of Mr. Harris.
Alinah slowly crept up the stairs and toward her Master's bedroom. She could hear the sound of his music seemingly bringing to life everything around her, and she grew anxious about disturbing him. Still, the notes froze in mid-air once she had knocked on the door, and her nervousness increased in the silence.
The door was opened, and she could see the troubled lines on Erik's face. He seemed to be frustrated and stressed about something, but it didn't seem to be directed towards her.
"Will you dine with me, tonight?" she asked in a small voice.
He seemed rather distracted, and even though he was looking at her, he almost seemed to be looking past her.
"Forgive me, but now is not a good time."
She nodded and attempted to hide her disappointment. He noticed the saddened expression on her face and his features softened, not wishing to cause her grief.
"I am sorry to have bothered you," she said.
He sighed, frustrated with himself. He had spent the past two hours composing, and the music that he was working on was nearly complete, yet it was missing something. He had scribbled on it, scratched out certain notes, and rewritten it multiple times, the blotches of ink smearing on the papers, but to no avail.
Hoping to lighten her spirits in some way, he told her to wait patiently at the door while he retrieved a box from his desk. When he returned, her eyes roamed over the crimson velvet box that he held out to her.
"I had planned everything out in my mind as to how I wanted to give you this," he admitted. "But I am afraid that my patience has escaped me."
Her bright blue eyes widened and a smile formed on her lips once the box was opened. It sparkled with the slightest movement.
"Oh, Erik..." she breathed. It had been so unexpected that she was at a loss for words.
