"Mama!" Aveline embraced her mother, while her father beamed at her and waited his turn. "Papa!" she exclaimed and turned to her father for another enveloping hug. "Oh, I've missed you so much!"
They pulled away from each other, but not before Raoul grabbed hold of his daughter's hands.
"My darling girl, what a sight you are! I could hardly believe that was my little girl, from across the room!" He smiled tenderly at Aveline, but then a hesitant look flashed upon his face. "May I see you without your mask?" He went to reach for the accessory on his daughter's face, but she leaned away from his hand.
Aveline smiled. "Papa, is this not a masquerade?"
"Yes," he conceded, seemingly wrapped up in distracting thoughts. "I just thought…well, never mind! I am happy to have my family reunited, again."
"You look lovely, mon précieux," Christine chimed in. "Such a…wonderfully ornate gown. You look so mature!"
Aveline heard Madam Durand clear her throat loudly. It cannot be avoided forever, she supposed. She stepped back to the side of her false mentor.
"Madam et Monsieur, permit me to introduce to you the distinguished Madam Francine Durand."
Raoul took the pianist matron's hand in his own and bowed as he kissed her gloved knuckles. Christine gave a ladylike nod of acknowledgement.
"My wife and I are pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Madam-"
"Please, call me Francine, I insist."
"Very well," he nodded.
"Aveline has written to us about you, and she is always most complimentary," Christine spoke up. "Reading her words of how you challenge her and bring her to a level of talent that she never thought she could achieve…it warms this mother's heart immensely, to know that you have been caring for and tutoring our little girl with such faithful attention."
"Yes! And nurturing her ankle after she sprained it! However can we thank you for such a kindness?" Raoul stepped closer to the famed pianist, in genuine gratitude.
"Oh, nonsense," the older woman shooed away the praise, "I did nothing more than my duty. Your daughter is such an…intriguing find. I never believed I would have the opportunity to help sculpt such a remarkable young talent!"
Christine smiled at the lavished compliments. "And now we hear that you are composing together? How marvelous! We cannot wait to hear how Aveline's playing has evolved in only three months!"
Madam Durand shot Aveline a smug smile, but Aveline felt her face flush with embarrassment. Another piece of information she apparently did not know…
"Oh, Mama, it's nothing, really."
Raoul held out a hand to his daughter. "May I have this dance, mademoiselle?"
Aveline looked to Francine, unsure if leaving her mother alone with the vengeful woman was wise, even in a public venue. The hardened woman nodded for her to go, and her father led her away.
They danced smoothly around the floor, with her father making light conversation. Most of Aveline's answers were short and on more than one occasion, she had to have Raoul repeat the question he had asked of her. She blamed it on the loudness of the music, which seemed to satisfy her father's confusion. He smiled at her instead, enjoying their time together.
Her thoughts raced with the options laid out in front of her: leaving with her parents and returning to Toulouse, insisting that she needed to stay in Paris to continue her tutelage, or figuring out some happy solution to bring about compromise for everyone involved.
She watched Madam Durand and her mother in animated conversation. Someone studying their conversation would be able to tell that the older woman was scrutinizing her mother. At times, Christine looked mildly uncomfortable at something that was said, but in the next moment, the two women looked like old friends. Aveline could only speculate about what their conversation entailed.
Out of the corner of her eye, as her father spun her toward the opposite corner of the room, she saw Erik watching her from a shadowy doorway. A group of ladies chatted in front of him, most likely unaware of his proximity. His arms were crossed over his chest, and, when their eyes locked, he motioned for Aveline to meet him where he was. Before Aveline could send a silent answer, her father spun her around to complete the musical number with flair.
The orchestra played the final notes, and Aveline and her father bowed to each other before clapping politely for the musicians. He pulled her back toward her mother, and Aveline looked over her shoulder to see Erik, again. But he had vanished from his last position. What do I do? The words repeated in her mind, as she worried her lip.
When they returned to the two ladies, Madam Durand was the first to speak.
"Your daughter is a younger version of her beautiful mother, is she not?"
"Indeed, she is," Raoul confirmed proudly.
"I have some of my handsome father's features, too," Aveline contested, grinning up at the man she loved so dearly.
Madam Durand leaned into her, then, searching for differences between her and her mother.
"I suppose so…his eyes, and your hair is a few shades lighter than your mother's," she murmured mostly to herself. Aveline shrunk away from her gaze and stood next to her mother.
"We had planned on staying at the same hotel as we did months ago," Christine interjected, seeking to change the subject that made her daughter inexplicably uncomfortable. "But Madam Durand," a throat-clearing noise from the nearby namesake was heard, "oh, I'm sorry – Francine so graciously offered us one of her guest rooms."
"But, the madam lives in Paris," Aveline reminded her, placing a hand on her mother's arm.
"One night, and we'll be on the train tomorrow afternoon," her father answered for her mother, seeing the tension in his wife's expression.
"It will be worth it," her mother added bravely, "to stay longer with you, discuss your vacationing with us in Cadiz, and perhaps," she looked to Madam Durand. "Perhaps we can hear you play?" She smiled at her daughter, again. "I've missed hearing the piano ring out through the house."
"Your mother has missed it so much that she has been playing our phonograph nonstop!"
"It doesn't hold a candle to listening to you, though," her mother admitted sadly.
"When Francine wrote to us of this masquerade, we thought it was the perfect way to be reunited with you, and for us to finally meet your famed instructor!" He nodded appreciatively to Madam Durand. "Thank you, again, for coordinating everything for us."
"I'm just pleased everything went according to plan," she slyly answered, shooting another glance at Aveline.
"Excusez-moi, mademoiselle," a handsome young man with a white half mask approached Aveline. "May I have this dance?" He held out his hand.
"I-" Aveline hesitated, remembering the Phantom's instruction not to accept any dance invitations besides his own. She looked to the three other people in her party, who all looked at her expectantly.
"Go," her mother insisted.
Aveline smiled politely at her dance partner and followed him to the dance floor. They began waltzing, moving in an easy rhythm. So easy, that Aveline didn't notice how he had maneuvered them across the room. He hadn't said another word to her, and she didn't feel obligated to initiate any conversation, either. Her parents were speaking with Madam Durand, who was looking over their shoulders to watch her faux protégé.
In the next instant, her oddly silent partner spun and let go of her, which disoriented her enough to allow another man to take his place, effortlessly picking up where her original partner had left off.
"You will come with me this instant, Aveline," the Phantom hissed. His jaw was clenched in anger and his eyes stared across the room, most likely at the woman who had betrayed him…one or both of them.
"I can't!" she protested. "Erik," her voice soothed, and he looked down at her. "I cannot just disappear. Madam Durand knows about you, and they will come after us."
"We won't return to the Opera Populaire, I will take you-"
"Erik, stop! Please," she pleaded. "That would ruin all of our plans, and you know it." He frowned but did not disagree with her directly. "How am I to become the performer you want me to be, while in hiding?"
The dance continued, with a tense silence. Erik held her tightly, as if he was afraid she might vanish before his eyes.
"Do you trust me? At all?" she asked, worry laced within her words.
He did not answer, as he had been so apt to do.
"You will leave with Francine, and I will retrieve you at her home, is that clear?"
"My parents are staying the night with her…"
"In Paris?" His tone was acidic. Disbelieving.
"Yes. Again, I cannot disappear while under their supervision. They leave tomorrow afternoon. They'll expect me to stay with Madam Durand…Francine," she corrected herself, derisively. "I will return to the opera house tomorrow night."
"Will you?" Under the sarcasm was a note of hopefulness.
The song ended and couples pulled away from each other to bow and applaud. Aveline did the same, bowing and nodding to Erik, before turning to walk away. Erik grabbed her wrist and looked into her eyes with apprehension and silent supplication.
"I have to return," she whispered. He let her go and she wove back through the crowds to the waiting party.
Aveline lost track of Erik completely, after that. She looked for him in the corners of the room, in the shadows. She scoured the masked faces, looking for the mask resembling the one she had seen every day for the past three months…but there was nothing. No sign. No trace.
At the end of the night, Aveline rode in a large carriage with her parents and Madam Durand. Her mother's head leaned against her father, but her eyes watched Aveline with a sleepy happiness. The ride back to Paris was filled with light conversation, mostly commenting on the innocuous events of the masquerade.
Arriving to the strange residence, Aveline was again bombarded with worry about maintaining the illusion that this had been her dwelling for the past few months. Looking around, she took in the details presented to her.
It's a well-situated property, she realized. It shared a street with several large, beautiful homes. Aveline was surprised that it wasn't larger, but, then again, Francine did not have family. She guessed that she wasn't much for entertaining, either. The home was a moderate, two-story petite mansion with grey slate on the roof and white brick on the exterior. The front garden was pretty, if a little over-worked. She and her parents followed the curved walkway to the front, where a middle-aged woman opened the door to greet them.
"So, shall we see your room, before retiring for the night?" Christine asked.
"Of course!" Madam Durand excitedly responded, leading Aveline to stare at the woman in wonder. What on earth is she going to show them? Some random guestroom?
The madam led them from the entryway through a hallway leading to the right. The room at the end of the hall was spacious, with its own en suite bath. There were large curtains draped artistically in the corners of the room and everything was tidy. Aveline imagined having spent her time in this smaller, but elegant bedroom. It did not look lived in, though. There was no way her parents would-
"Oh, what a sweet room! How perfect!" Christine exclaimed. She crossed to the wardrobe, opening the doors. Inside, the long-lost garments Aveline assumed she would never see again, were hung neatly. "Where is your favorite dress? That beautiful yellow and grey dress we had made before your trip here?"
"I-" It was destroyed while I searched the opera house for the Phantom's black roses… She needed to think of a better reason. "Remember how I told you of my spraining my ankle? I stupidly tripped on the hemline of the dress, which also resulted in a large tear. I'm afraid it wasn't fixable, was it, Madam?"
"Completely beyond reasonable repair, so sad," Francine confirmed, nodding sorrowfully.
"We will replace it then," Raoul spoke up. "I will leave you with enough money to have another made. Or you can order another design, whatever suits you, dear."
All four of them left to follow the housekeeper to a room on the second story, where Aveline's parents would stay the night. Everyone said their good nights, and Aveline went back down to her fictional home away from home.
The housekeeper or another maid had turned down the covers of the bed, and there was only one candle lit at the end of a silver candlestick. It flickered on the nightstand, illuminating only the brilliant white sheets of the bed. The room looked more foreboding, now, with the corner curtains shrouding much of the room in complete darkness.
"Your mother was a better actress, by far," she heard Madam Durand call out behind her. Aveline turned to face her, wringing her hands nervously. "You'll have to do better than that, if you are to be associated with him."
"Why did you do this?" she asked quietly. "What did I ever do to you, to deserve your ire?"
"My ire?" the older woman repeated, looking shocked. She shook her head in disbelief. "I have done everything to help you, you ungrateful brat."
Aveline prickled at the insult, but something the Phantom had told her popped into her mind. Despite her lack of social graces…elegance… She had thought it to be a cruel representation, at the time, but now it seemed like an apt description.
"You have the world at your feet, little girl," Madam Durand continued. "I did not have your connections, your breeding…your money." She spat the last word out.
"I know," Aveline whispered almost imperceptively. Almost.
"You know? What do you mean you know?"
"I read your biography. And…Erik filled in some of the more secretive elements to your rise to fame."
"Of course, Erik did." She rolled her eyes. "You have parents, nobility, beauty…why are you with him?"
"Because I wanted to be like you!" Aveline shot out. Her teeth clenched inside her mouth and she forced them open with deep breath. "I was eleven, when I first saw you. You were amazing. I was utterly inspired. Last year, when I wrote to you, to ask you-"
"You mean your father wrote to me," she interrupted, to point out the mistaken credit.
"No, actually, that was me," Aveline bit back. "I wrote to you, as my father, to see if you would possibly condescend to tutor me. I wanted so desperately to learn from you, the most successful female pianist in the world."
"Oh, my," Francine leaned against the door frame, placing a hand on her heaving chest. "I am so sorry…"
"Yes, I know what happened next," she confirmed, cutting off the apology. "I think both of our plans were twisted into Erik's will. You only meant to rub my parents' happiness in his face, and I only sought to be your pupil."
Madam Durand did not respond, unable to look Aveline in the eye.
"However," Aveline pressed on. "I have been his pupil. He has taught me more than I ever imagined..."
Francine's head snapped up, then. "I know all about that, Aveline. I learned from him, too. He taught me so much…too much." She walked up to the young woman and grabbed her shoulders. "This is your one chance. You can leave tomorrow with your parents. I will explain that I have taught you all I know, and that I am retiring for my health. You can continue to compose on your own…make your own success. You have the resources to do so!"
Aveline took a step back, pulling away from her, and the madam dropped her arms.
"I thank you, for your consideration of my situation," Aveline said seriously. "But I will be returning to the Opera Populaire tomorrow night, after my parents have gone."
Madam Durand sighed. "You are so young…so naïve."
"I need him, and I think he needs me, too." Aveline looked toward the window, wondering where Erik was and what he was doing. "I have never been so passionate, so inspired…not since I was eleven. When I watched you." She looked back to Francine, again. "I had my parents procure copies of all of Octave Genereux's compositions. How on earth am I supposed to walk away from working with the man, himself?"
"He will break your heart." Francine spoke each word slowly, forcefully.
"I am sorry he broke yours," Aveline conceded. She took the woman's hands in her own. She held the talented, hard-working hands with reverence. "I think he regrets it, as well." Francine looked at her quizzically, making sure her words held sincerity.
There was one thing left to say, so Aveline took another deep breath, still holding her idol's hands, and spoke her last truth.
"My mother broke Erik's heart, but she didn't mean to. She loved my father, and she could not be devoted to another. Erik broke your heart. He respected you, but he should not have led you on. I am sorry for you, that you had to bear his bitterness from my mother's rejection. You taught him, as well. You made him understand that he went too far. He realizes that, now. He will not hurt me or use me, as he did with you. Thank you for making him a better man."
Tears were running down the proud woman's cheeks. She pulled a hand from Aveline's grip and used it to wipe the trails of indignation away.
Aveline dropped the remaining hand and folded her hands together.
Francine looked past her, then, to the space behind her.
"Now you know. You're welcome…Erik."
She turned and exited, as Aveline spun around to see Erik emerge from the corner of her room.