Unforgettable
"No."
"Just that…no. No explanation?" Raoul says, sitting back in the armchair across from the carved wooden desk in Darius' office. The room is dark with heavy bookcases filled with, from what Raoul can tell, books related primarily to the topic of the human mind. The tall window behind the desk is curtained with deep maroon velvet, adding to the gloom.
"She is my wife and I have no interest in a divorce – for her protection as much as anything else."
"You seldom speak."
"What do you know of our communications?"
"I live with her for one thing and we do talk – about you and your…situation…relationship…whatever you wish to call it."
"It is called a marriage." Darius rises from the desk, holding his prosthetic hand close to his body.
Raoul does not leave his chair despite the implied suggestion their meeting is over. "Why? You do not love her – you love Yasmin."
"You do not know what I feel, so stop pretending you understand the situation," Darius replies, moving to a bookcase holding a pitcher of water and several glasses. "Water?"
"No, thank you," Raoul answers. "I am serious. I want to marry her – to give our child a name."
"The child will have a name."
"He is not yours."
"He or she is most certainly mine, legally."
"Again I ask why?"
"Because you are a misanthrope, a malcontent, a man in name only. Is that clear enough?" Darius moves from behind his desk to circle the room – catlike in his movements.
After attempt to follow the Persian with his eyes, Raoul decides to simply stay put in the chair. The conversation has not gone in a directoin he expected. What seemed a simple solution to the problem as he saw it – he and Meg lived together and she was pregnant with his child – however, unlikely that condition might have seemed at one time. The issue of divorcing Darius sooner did not arise – he married both Meg and Yasmin under Islamic law.
"Meg is not part of their life – so why not let her have a divorce."
"Meg and I married so she would have a protector. Her life was a shambles and our marriage gave her stability and a safe place for the treatment of her spirit and mind."
"Meaning you lived as brother and sister."
"Meaning our marriage was a contract both of us agreed upon. She would never be without a safe place to live, her physical needs provided for. You are well aware of her financial interest in Phantasma – I suspect that is one of the reasons you are anxious to settle this."
"Give me some credit – I am pursuing a business situation with Erik that will more than provide for a family."
"And if that fails, Meg has her investment."
Raoul's face burns bright red. "I am a French noble and a man of property."
"With a brother who controls the purse strings – we are all aware of your financial situation."
"You cannot keep her from getting a divorce."
"No, I cannot. You are correct. Meg can divorce me anytime she wishes and she knows that very well." Darius returns to the desk standing behind the chair, gripping the heavy leather, staring at the man seated opposite him. So very different in appearance – one with the dark hair and skin of his Persian birth – full lips and deep emerald eyes shaded with thick curled lashes. The other blonde, fair skinned with eyes the color of ice. One a man of passion, faith and responsibility – the other bred to be served, but now adrift in the sea of finding his way later in life and as unsure as a child learning to walk in many ways.
Why on earth was he here, practically begging him for a divorce? Why was this not being addressed with Meg? Darius' annoyance came as much from that reality as Raoul insisting on this man-to-man discussion. He would be most pleased if Meg relieved him of his commitment to her, but this visit suggests she is still concerned about the vicomte and he would never betray her trust.
"I have no desire or need to divorce her – I am perfectly willing to support her and care for her child – to ensure her safety and comfort. That was my promise to her. I had no intention of pressing any more damage on her than she already suffered in her mental situation. I am perfectly content to maintain that role for her. I love her."
Raoul frowns. "She can divorce you?"
"At any time she wishes."
"But she will not?"
"I told you – we married for her safety," Darius says. "She obviously does not feel entirely safe with you. You should be having this discussion with Meg. I will abide by her wishes. You must understand, however, that Nadir and her mother, not to mention Erik, will be most cautious about how much control you will be given over her finances. They trusted I would not take advantage of her. That, sir, is the bridge you must cross."
Raoul rises, running a hand through his hair. "This has certainly been an education. I now understand some of the sideway looks I receive when I speak of marriage."
"Meg has little trust of men – the marriage to me was what she needed to heal from many years of abuse. Perhaps enough time has passed whereby she feels comfortable leaving our arrangement."
"I suppose I should find that out."
"If you are sincere she will know."
"So how is the pirate ship come boat ride attraction developing, if I might be so bold to ask?" Nadir asks, picking up a muffin from a plate sitting on the coffee table in the library of the Eyrie.
"I did not hear the bell," Erik says, looking down from the ladder, allowing him to search the top shelves of the bookcase taking up one wall of the large room.
"That is because I did not ring the bell – the door was unlocked, so I just came in - I assumed I was expected."
"Nevertheless, there are times when I sorely miss my dwelling beneath the Garnier – if someone tried to access the place without my knowing it, they would likely suffer an injury of some sort, if not their death."
"Erik!"
The former Phantom laughs. "It was part of my mystique – there were any number of traps – I sought privacy and did my best to ensure it."
"Buquet?"
"He would search the tunnels for me – almost a game between us. It was amusing to jump out from a passageway. Surprisingly, there was very little entertainment to be had at the opera house. Having such a willing foil was, dare I say it…fun?"
"But he died."
"That he did – fell on some broken steps and broke his neck."
"You were blamed for his death."
"I was."
"But…"
"But, what? He was a fool and deserved to die. He tormented the rats…the ballet girls."
"Christine?"
"Yes."
"Did you plan his death?"
"Getting personal, are you? Why the questions about Buquet," Erik says "It was an accident as I just explained. The stairs were not kept up as well as they might have been – especially in the lower levels. I found him twisted on a pile of crumbled rock.
"But you hung him from the flies for all to see – you had to know they would think you killed him."
"Your loving wife helped me get him up onto the stage, where we levered him up to be displayed."
"Adele?"
"Did I hear my name?" The woman who outside her immediate family, would forever be known as Madame Giry – the name describing a woman whose severe appearance and no nonsense manner often brought a shudder to anyone who was either taught by her or worked under her – walks the short passage from the door to the library. Carrying a basket over one arm, keeping balance with her ever present staff.
"You did," Nadir responds, rushing to her side, taking the basket to hold her elbow and assist her to the long sofa.
"In what regard might I ask? Would it be one of those things a person overhears about them they wish they had not?" Lifting her arm from Nadir's hand, she settles herself on the couch and begins to unpack the basket. A loaf of bread, a quiche wrapped in a linen cloth, and a bag of apples.
"We were talking about Joseph Buquet," Nadir calls over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen to gather plates and service for their luncheon.
Adele shivers at the name. "Why on earth would you be talking about him?"
"Your husband was wondering if I planned his death," Erik says, climbing down the ladder, balancing a folder of sketches. "Is Christine coming?" After placing the sheaf of paper on the piano, he walks to the armoire to prepare their tea.
"She will be here shortly – chef was preparing some pumpkin tarts and they were not quite ready."
"So what did you know about Buquet?" Nadir asks, placing the dishes on the table.
"I warned him to stop harassing the girls and spreading stories about the Opera Ghost. To mind his business. Neither of us was particularly upset about an evil creature dying."
"Do you have any traps set up here?"
Erik laughs. "That would be telling now – would it not?"
"Yes, I want you to tell me."
"After six years, why are you asking about alarms and traps and people who died from prying and sticking their noses where they did not belong?"
"Raoul has me concerned."
"You think I am planning to engineer an accident for him?"
"To be frank, I wish you would."
"Nadir!"
"Daroga, I am shocked."
"He is up to no good."
"You sound like Gustave."
"Gustave does not trust him?"
"None of us wants him here," Erik says. "He makes Christine uncomfortable. Gustave told her that the vicomte said he still loves her."
"I hope Meg does not find out about that," Adele says.
"She would be better off without him if what Gustave says is true," Nadir says, "Do you really want her to marry him?"
"Of course not – not if what Gustave says is true."
"How does that make you feel?" Nadir asks Erik, picking at the crust of the egg and spinach dish.
"Like I wish I had finished him off when I had the chance," he chuckles.
"What do you find funny about this?"
"What do you want from me, old friend? I am not going to kill him – however much we all want him gone. I have no idea why Meg took up with him, but she did and now we seem to be stuck with him here. His confession might help, but I fear it would only hurt Meg even more and would not be helpful to her relationship with Christine."
Adele gets up and walks to the window overlooking the main street. "I wonder where she is – she should have been here by now."
Erik and Nadir follow her. "There she is," Nadir says.
"Is that Raoul with her?" Adele asks.
"So it appears," Erik says, striding to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To help my wife carry her burden of pumpkin tarts, of course," he says, shrugging on his overcoat, as he closes the door behind him.
"I hope Raoul stops trying to put his hands on her in whatever way he can before Erik reaches the sidewalk." Nadir says, leaning forward as far as he can to watch the small drama being acted out on the street.
"He was always a rash fool," Adele comments, leaning against her husband's shoulder.
"Really, Raoul, I can manage, it is simply a plate of small pies," Christine says, pulling the platter from the vicomte's grasp.
"Dessert?"
"Yes, I am meeting Erik for luncheon," she says, taking full possession of her pastries with one swift tug while increasing her pace. "Do not let me keep you."
"You are not – I was going to have a meal before returning to my…our rooms," he says. "We have not seen each other since All Hallow's Eve."
"It is not as though we see one another on a regular basis," she replies. "I hope Meg's health is continuing to improve."
"She is fine." Taking her arm, he stops her progression. "I miss you. I miss seeing your face every day, talking to you, being with you…I shall never understand this..." Waving his arm at the expanse of acres of rides and attractions and seaside that is Phantasma.
Following the arc of his hand, she breathes deeply of the brisk ocean air while taking in the view of her world – the world of her family and friends – her home. Pulling her arm away, she says, "It has been six…almost seven years since our marriage ended, Raoul, and the years before are not filled with fond memories for either of us…I am not sure what you miss or what you do not understand."
"Him, I do not understand him – why you chose him."
"You do not have to understand him." A sharp edge cuts into her usual gentle speaking voice. "We are married and have five children. He is my husband and I am very happy with my life. That is all you need to understand."
"I am very well aware of your marital status and how many children you have – particularly those he fathered. You know I have been working with Gustave on the new business proposition?"
She nods.
"It brought back memories of Perros."
"I understand that – I recognized the boat he drew. My own memories were stirred," she says, pursing her lips, looking to the sky, before turning to face him directly to respond. "We were children when we first met there and, yes, my recollection of those times are happy – particularly remembering my father – the later visits were less than pleasant."
"I just miss those things – all of them – good or bad. When we found one another again – at the Garnier."
"Whatever you are seeking, you will not find by lingering in a time that no longer exists. You did not really know me then and you certainly do not know me now." Offering him a gentle smile, softening her words, she says, "You need to create other good times for yourself – with Meg – your child. This is a second chance for you…"
"Christine!" Erik calls, approaching them with long strides, contained enough so he could not be accused of running, merely happy to see his wife and wishing to be with her as quickly as possible. That she is with her former husband is of no consequence.
"Erik? What are you doing down here – I was on my way with our dessert."
"Adele was concerned – she believed you were following just behind her – yet here you are just arriving." Erik shifts his focus to the younger man. "Raoul."
"Erik."
The two men face one another – unable to engage in any conversation beyond speaking the other's given name.
Handing off the plate of pastry to her husband, Christine explains, "The tarts took longer to prepare than Chef anticipated. Raoul was in the restaurant and offered to accompany me to the theater."
"Well, I see things are under control – the lady being no longer in distress, I shall return to my own luncheon," Raoul says, tipping his hat, looking back at the couple just once as he retraces his steps.
"Were you looking out the window?" she says, looking up in time to see Nadir and Adele retreat from the window. "There was no need for you to rescue me."
"Interesting choice of words," he says. "Did you feel in need of rescue? Even the boy suggested you were in distress."
"If carrying a small platter a hundred meters is considered a task worthy of rescue, then I suppose I am such a maiden. Any visions of himself as a fair knight come to save me from the burden I bore…willingly, mind you…evaporated when your dashing figure came bounding toward us."
"Bounding? I assure you, I was not bounding," Erik snorts. "Ambling, perhaps."
"Your intent was clear, my husband," Christine laughs. "Raoul understood immediately and hit the road as the expression goes."
"So he was pressing you?" Erik says, stopping to turn to her. "You look pale. Did he upset you?"
"Just bringing up the past again…Perros...those first days at the opera house."
"I see."
"Do you?"
"Maybe not entirely – I am terrified every time I see you two together. When I hear about Perros, my fear deepens. You loved him then. I often wonder if those memories are strong enough to entice you to leave me and our life."
"Oh, my darling man," Christine says, taking his arm. "What concerns me is Raoul's determined focus on those times…the past…a past that is not what he remembers it to be. It is as though the years between then and now are irrelevant – that we are still companionable."
"Did he say or do anything?"
She shakes her head. "I just wish he would concentrate more on the here and now." Slipping her hand through his arm, she returns to walking toward the theater. "In keeping with that wish we ourselves have a fine meal awaiting us and I do not care for cold quiche."