Chapter 56 Admonition

"Who the devil have you enraged now, little brother?"

Raoul awoke with a muffled "hmph?" as something hit him in the face.

"I've only been gone three days and you're already engaging in rivalry over some ballet strumpet's affections?" Philippe scoffed, walking over to Raoul's curtains to open them and flood the room with bright sunlight.

"Do you have to do that?" Raoul said, covering his sleep-filled eyes with his hand as he struggled to sit up in bed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half past get up and explain yourself, I'd say."

"Ha, ha," Raoul replied, rubbing his hands over his face, shaking off the last vestiges of his dreams. He looked across his bedroom with clear eyes at last to see Philippe lounging against his dresser. "What are you talking about?"

"You enjoyed the Opera last night then?" Philippe smiled insolently.

Raoul winced as he finally registered the monumental hangover pounding in his head. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"Feeling the pain, are we?" Philippe smirked, going to Raoul's nightstand and pouring him a glass of water. "Here. Start drinking. And for once make it water."

Scowling up at his brother, Raoul took the glass and sipped at the contents. "Thank you."

"And did you enjoy yourself after the opera?"

Fragments of memory started returning as Raoul woke more fully. Oh God. Now the hangover made sense. "Uh… yes."

"Oh, then it wasn't you who was running in and out of every soiree telling anybody who'd listen that a - now, how did you put it - 'a deplorable bastard' - had absconded with your dinner guest then? Bravo, little brother. Excellent choice of words. Especially in such refined company." Philippe couldn't wipe the smile off his face. It seemed his sibling had finally found some spirit at last.

Raoul rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, then winced at the sheer amount of pain that movement caused within his own head. "Who told you?"

"I like to keep my gossip sources private, actually."

"Does Mother know?" Raoul felt sure that although Philippe's various scandals were regularly ignored occurrences, his own would not be taken so lightly.

"Considering the parlour is full of twittering maidens who haven't come to commiserate, but to crow - I'd say that is a definite 'yes'," Philippe grinned. He really was enjoying this rather too much. "In fact," he continued, "I doubt it'll be long before your desperate search for your little soprano will cause her to either call for her smelling salts or take to her bed."

Raoul lay back down onto his pillows with a groan; closing his eyes and wishing everything would all just go away.

Philippe went over to the bed and sat down upon the edge. "I take it from this," he picked up the letter he'd thrown at Raoul earlier between two fingers. "That you've found the infamous Mlle. Daae at last?"

Opening one eye at the mention of Christine's name, Raoul finally noticed the letter his brother held out. "What's that?"

"Words of wisdom from the Deplorable Bastard," Philippe replied. "Not that you'll listen."

Snatching the letter from his brother's outstretched hand, Raoul frowned at the informal way it had been addressed. Who on earth in his acquaintance would be so rude? Turning the note over, he was further shocked to see the evil smile upon the red, skull-shaped seal. Which was broken… He looked up at his brother and grimaced. "You already opened it?"

"Sorry." Philippe at least had the grace to look guilty. "When I saw the seal, I couldn't resist. Besides, it looks like a bloody funeral notice - I wondered if somebody'd died."

Flipping the letter open, Raoul pulled out the short note from inside. His first thought was that the penmanship put his own, rather less elegant, scrawling to shame. His second was who on earth ever called him simply 'de Chagny'. His third was something that couldn't be uttered aloud in polite society. "What in the hell?" he thundered. "Have you read this?"

"Well - yes," Philippe said, "I thought we'd already established that little fact. Must say, I've never heard it called being under someone's wing before… "

Raoul shot him a look of complete disgust.

"What?" Philippe put up his hands up in mock defense. "I didn't write it."

Looking back at the note, Raoul read out the last line. "And I'm not to attempt to see her again?"

"Seems as if the Deplorable Bastard is as enchanted with Mlle. Daae as you are," Philippe said, rising from the bed to fetch Raoul's robe.

Raoul couldn't believe it. Was she already involved with another man? He remembered the deep male voice he'd heard the night before, in her room. For some unknown reason it had filled him with a sick dread and an overwhelming sense of panic – quite disproportionate to the situation at hand. And yet the room had been completely empty when he'd stormed in there.

Philippe sat down again upon the bed and put the robe across Raoul's lap. "So you found her too late. It's not the end of the world, you know."

"Yes, it is," Raoul said fervently. He stood up and snatched the robe from the bed, before angrily putting it on. "I won't stand for this."

"I don't think you've any choice," Philippe replied, watching as Raoul paced across the large room. "If she's already placed her affections elsewhere - "

"'The Angel of Music' indeed," Raoul scoffed, completely ignoring Philippe's annoyingly sensible protestations. He stopped pacing and struggled to remember the conversation he'd had with Christine the night before. The Angel of Music. That ridiculous fairytale her father used to tell her. She'd said that it had come true. He'd dismissed it for the nonsense that it was at the time. But now… "It's her damn tutor," he said, turning to Philippe with renewed fire in his eyes.

"Her what?"

"'She said he was very strict - last night when I asked her to dine with me," Raoul explained.

"And you didn't think it was odd that she called her singing teacher an 'Angel'?" Philippe replied, his eyebrows raising yet again.

"It means nothing, it's just a stupid thing her father used to say," Raoul dismissed the meaning behind Philippe's words with a wave of his hand.

"Well then," Philippe said, rising from the bed. "You'd better get down there and sort this fellow out."

"What?"

"Since when does an employee tell a Patron what he can and cannot do?" Philippe asked, spreading his hands wide in exasperation. "I think you might need to assert your scant authority there a little more emphatically." He turned Raoul by the shoulders and started to march him towards his bathroom. "Or else Messieurs Firmin and Andre might find our very charitable generosity will be cut off forthwith."

"Yes," said Raoul, allowing himself to be pushed across the room. "You're right."

"Of course, I'm right," Philippe said. "I'm always right."

"Well, that's highly debatable," Raoul said; then paused at the bathroom door. "Wait -"

"What?"

Raoul turned back to face his brother. "What are you doing back here? Have you managed to disgrace us again already? In three days?"

"Ah," Philippe grinned, biting into his bottom lip. "I was hoping you weren't going to notice that."

"God, we are a pair," Raoul said, his shoulders slumping with defeat. "What did you do?"

"Made rather an ass of myself, actually," Philippe said, ducking his head down and looking at the carpet.

Raoul had never seen his brother look humbled before. It was quite a new experience. "More so than usual?"

"I didn't expect to do it," Philippe said, snorting lightly with amazement. "But once I saw her again I just -

"What are you babbling about?" Raoul asked, unable to fathom the sense behind his brother's abrupt change of subject.

"Isabelle," Philippe said, looking back up with a fire burning in his eyes that Raoul recognised only too well. "I asked for her hand."

"You didn't?" Raoul grabbed hold of Philippe's arm.

"Damn well did," Philippe replied, smiling widely now.

"But that's marvelous," Raoul said, shaking Philippe's hand furiously, then pulling his older brother into a fierce hug. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Philippe smiled, quite proud of himself.

"What did mother say?" Raoul could well imagine her reaction to such news. Though the Dechanet's were well placed within society, they were nowhere near the standing of a Count. And this on top of his own indiscretion at the Opera last night, as well…

The light faded from Philippe's eyes slightly, though he recovered his usual joviality quickly. "I expect father will have to tie her up and drag her to the wedding."

"Could we sell tickets for that?" Raoul quirked one eyebrow.

"Don't tempt me," Philippe said. "Anyway, are you going to come with me tomorrow and meet her? I'll be going back to their estate as soon as it's light."

"I can't," Raoul sighed. "The damned Opera, there's another performance tonight and -"

"Oh, the performance? Not checking up on Mlle. Daae then?"

"Well, yes that as well."

"Bring her with you – invite her to stay. Get her away from her 'tutor' for a bit."

Raoul thought for a moment – it was actually a rather marvelous idea. Get Christine away from the Opera House - and the Deplorable Bastard, whoever the hell he was. Mme. Dechanet would be there to chaperone. Both he and Philippe could walk out with their beloveds. He could take Christine to balls, parties, have her with him daily, show her off as his own. "You might be onto something there. I'll do it," Raoul resolved to write her an invitation immediately.

"Excellent, that's settled then," Phillipe said, shoving Raoul into the bathroom. "Now get ready. I have an appointment with Cartier this morning and I do not intend to be late."

Raoul popped his head back around the doorframe as Philippe walked out of the room. "Can you get me - "

"Yes, I'll send up water for a bath," Philippe waved acknowledgement of the request without looking back.

"And then send - "

"Yes," he said exasperatedly, as he reached the door. "Then I'll send John up to help you get dressed."

"Thank you," Raoul smiled, ducking back into the bathroom.

"Now, don't forget," Philippe called out.

"What?" Raoul's half-naked body came around the doorframe yet again.

"Don't let those managers give you any bulldust. When it comes to that place," Philippe nodded, "You're the one who's in charge."