Chapter 2
Two and a Half Years Later:
Carlynda stepped out of the carriage and tilted her head upwards to see the building over the brim of her hat. The sun blinded her and she quickly brought up a gloved hand to her brow to block its heated rays. It looked different then she remembered, but, then again, she wasn't paying attention to the structure and it was quite dark.
"Mademoiselle Mcbeth!"
Carlynda turned to the side and saw a short, portly man with a top hat and a cane coming towards her. He kept his gaze fixed on her, as if trying to avoid looking at the Opera House.
"Monsieur Debree," she greeted cheerfully. "Did you bring all the paperwork?" she asked as she glanced at the abandoned structure.
M. Debree held up a folder. "Umm, yes I did, mademoiselle. Umm, I feel like I should warn you again. This place…" He shook his head as he finally gave it a glance, an anxious glance. "No one has been able to fix it up and make use of it since the fire four years ago. It's haunted. I hadn't believed the tales until after I bought it."
She smiled at him, cheerfully. "I heard all the tales, monsieur. I am not concerned."
M. Debree nodded, still looking unsure. "Right. Here are the papers." He handed the folder over to her. Then he reached into his pockets and pulled out a ring of keys. They jingled as he handed them to her as well. "Your fiancée is now the owner of the Palais Garnier."
She took the folder and gave her thanks. "And thank you for selling it at such a low cost."
"I wanted it off my hands, mademoiselle." He threw a wary glance at the opera house once again. "I'm sorry it is in such a sad state, but, as I said, no one has been able to fix it without the ghosts messing around. Maybe all they need is a women's touch to calm them. I hope to someday meet your fiancée. An odd man he must be, to have his mother and intended to do the work of purchasing the opera house."
She nodded at him. "Yes, he is a private man and he is on a business trip at the moment," she responded, remembering the cover story she and Madame Giry came up with to put the opera house into her savior's name. She glanced down at the folder, tempted to take a glance at the name on the deed. It was Madame Giry that had done that part, saying if he wanted her to know his name, he would have told her. She pulled her gaze away from the folder with difficulty to respect his privacy.
"Thank you, Monsieur Debree." She turned and started up the steps to the front door. Memories of the night she came here washed over her.
"You're going in alone! Mademoiselle, that is too dangerous!"
She stopped and faced him. She attempted to calm him with her smile. "I'll be fine, monsieur. There is no need to worry about me. Thank you," she repeated. "You may go now." She started back up the stairs, ignoring his protesting hitch of his breath before he sighed dejectedly. To her luck, he didn't follow her inside.
Inside the building looked different as well. No longer dark, the sunlight had managed to fight through the cracks and holes in the walls, ceiling and the boarded windows allowing her to see the interior for the first time. The entrance hall was huge and there were sculptures and paintings of beauty all around. A grand staircase with faded red frilling carpet and painted in gold was right across from the entrance. The windows had curtains of velvet covering them, dusty and torn from age. Shadows still clang to the edges, covering her view of anything else.
She closed the heavy doors behind her, blocking even more light from getting into the building. She tried remembering everything Madame Giry said about this mysterious figure as she walked towards the grand staircase. Madame Giry was confident that he would be there and he would know the moment she entered the building. She insisted that he would be watching her.
With that in mind, she slowly spun around, looking all around her as if trying to catch a glimpse of him. "Monsieur?" she called out. She stepped onto the first step of the grand staircase. "Monsieur? You might not remember me. You saved me over two years ago, here in this room. It was dark and a man tried to…" she swallowed down a lump in her throat. "…tried to force himself on me. You gave me money and sent me to Madame Giry." She paused and shook her head, feeling ridiculous. "You're not even here, are you? Why would you remember?" she murmured almost to herself.
"I remember, mademoiselle," a familiar voice whispered into her ear.
She jumped in surprise and looked around, but she couldn't see him. "I'm glad, monsieur." It did make this less awkward. "I wanted to pay you back for your kindness. I have something to give you."
There was a moment of silence. "Come," The voice came from the top of the staircase, where it was enclosed in darkness.
With her heart pounding nervously, she carefully made her way up the staircase, using her feet to find the next step. She was soon embraced in the darkness of the theater. She stopped once she made it to the top. She felt a presence standing by her side and she turned to face him. He had such an overpowering presence. It made her feel small and insignificant. She stood in front of him, her head lowered and her hands clinching the folder and keys.
"You need not give me anything," he said softly.
She nodded, her eyes flickering up to his silhouette figure. "I know, but I wanted to." She held out the folder. "Here," she said.
She felt the folder leave her hand. She saw his tall silhouette figure turn from her. He stood on the top of the staircase, back to her. He used the light from below to read through the folder. For several long minutes, he stared at the contents. Carlynda shifted her feet as she waited nervously for his reaction. She held tightly to the ring of keys in her hand, only then remembering she still had them. "Umm…" she said, trying to grab his attention.
"You know my name?" he questioned, interrupting her train of thought.
She blinked in surprise. "Um, no, no," she said shaking her head. "Madame Giry did that part." She waited for him to speak again, but he didn't. Another long minute passed.
Finally, the man sighed and looked away from the folder. "You did not have to do this. This must have cost more than I gave you and I do hope you didn't use the money I gave you to purchase this. I didn't give you that money to be used on me."
"I know, monsieur, and I didn't. With the money you gave me and Madame Giry's help, I was able to open a business."
He turned his head slightly towards her and she could, once again, see something white, but he had turned his head back to the folder before she could get a closer look. "A business?"
She nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "It's a small bakery." She smiled fondly. "I found out that I could make a delicious soufflé. Madame Giry also has a ballet studio and she has me helping her and her daughter. I was able to save up enough money to make an offer on the opera house. Monsieur Debree was nice enough to lower the price some as well." She held up the keys and they jingled. "It is yours now to do as you please."
"I am very touched, mademoiselle." He paused. "Thank you." For some reason, the words 'thank you' seemed foreign to her ears; as if it wasn't something he normally would say. It seemed hesitant and forced. He turned away from the staircase and walked farther into the shadows. She almost couldn't see him at all, but she knew he was now facing her. She could see a glint of white where his face would be. She couldn't quite figure out what it was.
She walked over to him, standing close enough to feel his body heat, and held up the keys again. "You'll need them. They open any door of the building."
She almost felt his amusement as he took the keys from her, but she didn't question him. "Thank you again, mademoiselle. You truly did not have to do this."
She shook her head in disagreement. "I'm the one who should thank you, monsieur. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for you." Before she could stop herself, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him briefly where she thought his cheek would be. To her outmost embarrassment, though, she managed to get the corner of his mouth. Heat flooded to her cheek and down to her loins. Her heart seemed to have skipped a beat as she froze with her lips still on at the corner of his thin, warm lips. He was tense. He felt like a cold statue. She slowly moved away from him and stepped away from him, meekly glancing down. "Thank you," she whispered before rushing down the steps.
She paused at the door and turned to glance back up the staircase. She couldn't see anyone there. She quickly turned and left the building.
Carlynda was in her bakery when the news came two weeks later. She was greeting one of her daily customers as she bagged his pastries when he brought it up. He was an elderly man who worked for an aristocratic family as their groundkeeper. She smiled brightly at him as he came up to the counter to order his usual. "Morning, Monsieur Manier," she greeted.
He glanced up from his newspaper briefly to greet her back. "Morning, Mademoislle McBeth. It would be my usual today," he stated before turning back to an interesting article in the paper.
"I have it right here, waiting for you," she announced as she turned to pick up the pastries she had prepared for him. She started to carefully place each pastry in a bag. "Anything interesting in the paper this morning?" she asked.
The elderly man snorted. "You could say so. Listen to this, 'Mysterious Owner Starts Opera House Renovations'," he read the headline.
Carlynda's hands froze and her head popped up in shock. "Pardon?"
M. Manier placed the paper down on the counter. "According to the paper, no one knows who the next owner is. No one has talked directly to him. He has his assistant make all the appointments. The assistant calls his employer, Monsieur Geroux. Nothing more, nothing less," he said.
She turned back to the pastries as she asked as casually as she could, "Is the new owner returning opera and music back to the building?"
M. Manier shrugged. "It doesn't say, but I do hope so. You were able to hear the music all the way down the main street of Paris. It was beautiful. I would like to hear that music again."
Carylnda nodded in agreement as she handed him his bag of pasties. "It would be lovely." She faintly remembered visiting an opera house several years before running away from home. She could still recall the graceful movements of the ballet dancers and the angelic voices of the chorus, the colors and lights. It was one of her top highlighted memories of her life. "Have a nice day, Monsieur Manier." She smiled at him as he handed her the money for the pasties.
"As should you, Mademoiselle Mcbeth." He tipped his hat, gathered the bag and his paper, and left the shop.
"Monsieur Geroux," Carlynda mouthed silently to herself. She wanted to see him and ask what he planned to do with the opera house. She was curious to see how it was coming long, but she restrained herself. She needed a better excuse to see him then asking him a bunch of questions. Besides, how would she find him? He would hardly be at the opera house with construction going on. And she wasn't ready to face him after she came so close to kissing him directly on the lips. Her face heated up in remembrance.
Carlynda was heading home from a day of window shopping with Meg Giry several months later.
She resisted the urge thus far from going to the opera house, but she kept track of its progress whenever it was mentioned in the daily paper. A week ago, it said that the exterior was completely finished and they only had a few more rooms to complete inside. They were proud of how fast the work was getting done. The tall tales of opera ghosts seemed to mellow after the ghost made no appearance during the reconstruction. Though, workers have been noted to saying how pieces were finishing themselves after they leave for home. Carlynda didn't pay much attention to such tales. She was never one to believe in ghosts, so why bother to listen about them?
The papers said that people have yet to see this mysterious M. Geroux. His lack of appearance was fascinating the public. Rumors and fantasies were starting to fly around M. Geroux, from a romantic street beggar with good luck to his name to him being related to the King. Carylnda believed none of the rumors, having had met M. Geroux, she could say he was no street beggar. As for being related to the King, she wouldn't put it too far from the truth because of his wealth and overwhelming presence, but she couldn't believe that rumor either. There was something wrong about it. She just couldn't picture him as being part of a royal court. She would have surely heard of him, being a former Countess.
Meg pulled her sleeve, stopping her in her tracks. "Beautiful!" she gasped, staring at a shop window.
Carlynda turned to the window and her eyes sparkled. "It is," she agreed staring at the necklace display. She eyed a particular simple necklace. It had a simple silver chain with a petite emerald pedant in the shape of a teardrop. It was a small chain; it would come close to her neck. She would never have enough money to buy it for herself, not after buying the opera house. She turned from it and shook her head at Meg with a grin, "We would never be able to afford any of those."
"But we can still look," Meg said with her usual optimism. She smiled and pulled Carlynda further down the street. "Come. Let's see the opera house!" she suggested with her eyes sparkling with delight. "It's been so long since I've seen it."
Carlynda shook her head. "No, Meg. It's getting late. It's almost dark. We best be getting back or your mother would worry so." She glanced at the pink sky, getting darker by the minute.
Meg didn't stop trying to pull her down the street. "Then we must hurry, Carlynda, or it'll be too dark to see."
Carlynda let Meg drag her to near the center of Paris, where the opera house was once again standing mystically in the setting sun. Carlynda's breath got caught in her throat at the beautiful sight as she stared it from across the street. "It's simply wonderful," she gasped.
"My word," Meg said with wonder. "It looks just like it never been burned." She grabbed Carlynda's arm again and began dragging her across the street. "Come. I want to see if the inside looks the same."
"Meg, no!" Carlynda gasped. "We shouldn't."
"Come, Carlynda. The workers would be home by now and I want to see it while there is still light."
Carlynda could do nothing but allow the excited younger girl to drag her to the front doors. "We shouldn't be here, Meg," she said from behind the blond.
Meg didn't appear to be listening. She reached for the handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. She pulled at it several times, more and more violently each time. She cursed. "It's locked," she said in disappointment.
Carlynda nodded. "It does make a bit of sense, Meg, that it would be locked. As you said, the workers would have returned home by now. May we go?"
Meg sighed. "I suppose. I really wanted to see the inside." She turned and started down the steps.
Carlynda shook her head in amusement at Meg disappointment, knowing the girl would bounce back real soon. She gave the door one last look before turning to follow her, but a soft click sound stopped her and she turned back to the door. Was that the lock? Curiously, she reached for the handle.
"Carlynda?" Meg called out from the pavement.
Carlynda pulled at the handle and, to her surprise, the door cracked opened. She heard Meg gasp before running up the steps to the front door. "You opened it! But…but it was locked!"
Both of them glanced at the darken room beyond the door. Meg suddenly grinned. "Let's check it out."
"No, Meg! Wait!"
But it was too late, Meg rushed in. Carlynda groaned. "Meg," she whispered. "We shouldn't!" There was no response. "Fine, but if we get in trouble, I will blame it all on you." Carlynda stepped in and the door shut behind her, trapping her in the dark. She froze, not wanting to move and hit something. "Meg!" she whispered loudly. "Meg, where are you? I can't see anything." She reached out to feel around her, but she felt nothing but air. "Meg!" she dared to call out a little louder. She turned slowly, keeping her hands out. "Meg?" Her hands hit something warm and big and she jumped away, but something grabbed her hand and pulled her towards it. She let out a squeak before she was spun around, her back hitting something flat and warm, and something snaked across her stomach and her mouth, stopping her squeak from turning into a scream. It all happened so fast.
She felt warm air brush her ear. "Quiet, mademoiselle," a voice command into her ear.
She felt herself relax at the familiar voice, leaning into the warmth of his body. She reached up and touched the gloved-covered hand on her mouth and pulled it gently away. "Monsieur?" she breathed out.
"It is I," he confirmed. He slowly moved his arm from around her, his hand sliding across her stomach, leaving a trail of tingles in her gut. Her heart began to race and she couldn't stop it, or understand why it was pounding. He stepped back, leaving her body cold from his sudden retreat.
She turned around to face him, but, of course, she couldn't see him at all in the darkness. "Why…" She paused to take a breath, trying to calm her heart. "…why are you here, monsieur?" she asked. Her heart began to calm, now that he wasn't so near her.
"Why am I here?" he said in obvious amusement. "I do own the opera house, do I not?"
Carlynda closed her eyes in embarrassment and she could feel her cheeks heat up. She was glad it was too dark for him to see. "Right," she muttered under her breath.
"I was checking on how well the men I hired were doing on my opera house. As I do every night after they leave." There was a pause and Carlynda could almost feel his intense eyes on her. "I believe the question should be, why are you here, mademoiselle?"
"Oh, um." She hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Meg worked here before. She just…just wanted to see it again." Her eyes widened in remembrance. "Meg! I lost her. She's here somewhere." She glanced around, as if to look her for, but the monsieur's voice took her attention again.
"Little Giry is fine, mademoiselle. I saw her enter the auditorium. I made very little changes to the original design. She knows this building very well and was able to find the auditorium easily enough in the dark."
Carlynda felt her body relax in relief before she blinked. "You saw her? How did you see her? I can't see anything."
"I had left some of the lights on in the auditorium. That was where I was when I heard you two trying the door."
"I see." Carlynda's eyes narrowed in thought. "You unlocked the door for us!" she accused. The silence she got from him was answer enough. "Why?" she asked.
"I was curious to know why you are here, at this late hour."
"It's not late," she protested.
"It will be soon."
Carlynda had nothing to say to that, for she knew he was right. "I am very sorry to impose upon you, monsieur. If you just lead me to the auditorium, I'll grab Meg and leave."
"Before you go, mademoiselle, I should warn you."
"About?"
"The man who sold you the opera house has been talking. He may have let your name slip to some infuriating reporters."
"Oh?" she asked.
She tensed when she felt his body heat by her side, she clinched her fingers together as her heart began pounding again…and it wasn't because of fear. Who was this man who seemed to have such power over her?
"I did not know we were engaged to be married," he said in a low tone by her ear.
She felt her face heat up again and her eyes widened. "I just…I told him that because…I…"
"My assistant informs me," he interrupted, "of the many questions he has been getting from reporters about our upcoming wedding. He does not know what to tell them. But your name will be in the post in connection with mine by the end of tomorrow."
"He can't do that." She turned to him. She was able to sense his tall form right in front of her, close enough to feel the brush of his clothes and the heat of his breath against her cheek. "He signed an agreement that he would not speak of what he knew." She took a step back, hoping space between them would help her face cool and calm her heart. Her mind struggle to stay on topic. "He…he went against the agreement by talking."
"Is that so?" he asked thoughtfully. "Hmm. We may be able to keep your name out of the papers after all. You just leave it to me, mademoiselle. I'll take care of it." There was a hint of a threat in his voice and Carlynda, for a moment, felt sorry for Monsieur Debree.
They stood there in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "Come. I'll lead you to the auditorium. It is quite late now. You and Little Giry should get going."
She felt him tentatively touch the back of her hand, an invitation to take his. She turned her hand without question and offered it to him. There was a moment, as if he hesitated, before he took her hand and carefully led her away from the main doors. Just like when they first met, she blindly and willingly followed him as he guided her down some dark corridor.
They stopped at a set of doors. Carlynda could see the light coming from underneath the cracks. "This is where I leave you, mademoiselle. Little Giry would be able to lead you back."
She squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you, again, monsieur." She let go of his hand and turned to the doors. She opened one of them, blinking at the sudden light. Once her eyes adjusted, she turned back, but was unsurprised to see he was already gone.
She turned back to the auditorium. It was a beautiful auditorium, so grand and majestic. Red velvet seating, golden carvings along the walls, the grandiose chandelier hanging from the ceiling, red velvet curtains pulled to the sides of the large stage, and the orchestra pit in front of the stage. "Oh my!" she gasped as she stepped on the soft carpeted aisle. Meg was on the stage dancing to music only she could hear. Carlynda walked down the aisle, watching her as she gracefully spun and dipped and twirled around on stage. By the time Carlynda reached the ledge of the orchestra pit, Meg was done. Carlynda clapped. "That was beautiful, Meg!"
Meg flushed as she received Carlynda's compliment. "Thank you, Carlynda." She glanced around the auditorium. "What do you think? It looks exactly like it did before the fire. Isn't it marvelous?"
Carlynda followed Meg's gaze around the room, noting the beautifully golden-décor of the boxes and the red cushions on the many rows of seats. She nodded. "It is very lovely. Monsieur Geroux must have really loved the opera house."
Meg nodded in agreement. "I do wonder how he was able to get the design so perfect to the original. The blueprints had gone missing many years ago. It was rumored that the Opera Ghost took them."
Carlynda shook her head. "Do not be ridiculous, Meg. There is no such things as ghosts. Now, get off the stage. We best be getting home. Your mother will have a fit. We are late as it is."
"Of course he wasn't a real ghost. He was a man, at the time, but they say he died in the fire. He must be a ghost now," Meg said as she hopped into the orchestra pit and climbed out on the other side. She stood next to Carlynda and leaned in. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was here right now. He must have opened the door for us."
"Why would he do that?" Carlynda asked, sounding doubtful.
Meg shrugged. "I don't know, but who else would have done it. No one else is here and the door was locked. You saw me try the door. It was locked."
Carlynda shook her head, but decided not to try and argue. "Let us leave now, Meg. It's late. If we wait any later, it would be unsafe to walk home alone."
It had gotten a lot darker by the time they stepped outside. "Oh," Carlynda said when she noticed how dark it had gotten. "I didn't realize so much time had passed."
Meg frowned in concerned. "Should we risk it, Carlynda? It gets quite dangerous after dark with unruly men and those women who stands out on the corners."
Carlynda bit her lip in thought. She knew from experience how dangerous it is for ladies and 'pretty boys' to be out after dark. She shook her head. "The sun only just gone down. They won't be out for another hour at least. We best hurry. Your mother would have a fit as it is, it's best not let her wait until morning for us."
Meg nodded in agreement and they began their hurried trip home. Carlynda found herself stopping at the jewelry window again, staring at the emerald tear drop pendant. She wished she had the money. The candles were still burning in the place. She could see someone moving around, packing the jewelry into the vault for the night, getting ready to close. Soon, she knew, the man would pack the jewelry in the display window.
"Carlynda, let's go!" Meg urged, her tensed body pressed against Carlynda.
Carlynda tore her eyes away from the pendant and nodded. "Yes. Sorry, Meg."
They began walking again, but Carlynda heard something behind them and she spun quickly around. She saw nothing but the empty street. Meg looked back, her innocent blue eyes wide with fear. "What is it, Carlynda?"
Carlynda forced a smile on her face to calm Meg and shook her head. "Nothing, Meg. I just thought I heard something. It's alright." She wrapped her arm around Meg's arm and began walking again. She kept her ears out for sounds behind them and she thought she heard fabric moving. She couldn't help but glance back, but there was nothing there. That didn't mean they weren't being followed. There were alleyways between each building that a stalker could have hidden in. It did not make Carlynda feel confidant or safe.
Meg clinched her arm tightly. "What do you hear? And don't lie to me. Is someone following us?" she asked in a fearful whisper.
Carlynda forced the smile back on her face and shook her head, not wanting Meg to worry. "If there is someone following us, Meg, it is our guardian angel."
Meg relaxed and smiled in return. "That is a nice thought to have, isn't it?"
Carlynda nodded. "Yes, Meg, it is." They picked up their pace, almost racing down the street to get home. Whoever was following them either didn't mean them any harm or waited to long for the opportunity to jump them because they made it safely home.
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