Toccata and Fugue
For a long moment, there was absolute silence in the study. Angelique hung over Erik's shoulder like the plague for a tense moment, holding her breath. Her tiny hands pressed against his arm, fingers curled in anticipation as she awaited his words. With a flourish, Erik placed the last fermata at the end of the page, completing the final orchestrations to Notre Dame de Paris.
Delighted, Angelique squeezed his arm as he wrote 'Fini' at the bottom of the page and smiled up at her. Leaning over, she threw her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as possible without cutting off his air.
"It's done! I can't believe it's finally done!" Laughing, she practically fell over the chair in an attempt to hug Erik tighter. Still unused to her impulsive acts of affection, Erik patted her back.
"Yes, it's finally done." Working together on the orchestrations, they had finished their opera in little more than six months. Erik was a little sad to see it finished, it felt almost as if it were their child. But now that it was done, all that was left was to show it to the managers and convince them to give it in their theatre. At the moment, though, Angelique seemed more interested in sitting next to Erik and smiling about the fact that they were finished.
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," she commented. Straightening the pages, he looked up at her with a smile that equaled hers.
"Either way, I believe it is time for a well deserved break." Tying the sheets of music together, he stood up. "What would you like to do tonight?" In the recent months, they had been working on the music day and night, unable to bear being apart for too long, even for sleep.
"Absolutely nothing at all!" Laughing, Angelique put her arms around him and kissed his forehead. "I just want to sit around here and enjoy having absolutely nothing to do for a few days!"
"Then nothing it shall be, my sweet angel. We shall sit tonight and do nothing but read poetry and think of what a success our opera shall be!"
And so it was. Following another dinner of truly epic proportions, this time a tour of Russia, Angelique and Erik moved back into the study in order to go about doing nothing. Sitting together by the fireside, they passed the time drinking wine, reading Voltaire and the fables of Jean de la Fontaine. Erik read these works aloud as Angelique sipped her wine, and his melodious voice wove these beautiful tales into perfect little worlds of their own where animals and plants spoke as clearly as humans. Leaning against him as he spoke these words, Angelique sighed pleasantly.
For six lovely months it had been this way, and the blessed release of tension in the house felt as if it had been centuries in coming. Empires had fallen in the time they had wasted dancing around one another, but now they seemed completely at ease with one another and both parties hoped that it wouldn't end.
Somehow, for Erik, Angelique's kiss had reawakened something within him. When Christine (whom he hardly thought of anymore) had kissed him, then left with Raoul, it had caused him to retreat further into his darkness. Although he had asked, nearly begged, for her to leave with Raoul, the fact that she would kiss him so tenderly then leave was devastating. But now there was a wonderful woman sitting beside him, one who showed no signs of ever wanting to leave.
Lately, however, he noticed what seemed to be a hidden sensuality in everything she did. It was almost as if he had become hypersensitive to this fact. Just now, as she raised the glass to her lips, he noticed the lazy way she brought it to her face and pressed her awaiting mouth to the rim in an urgent kiss. A flicker of light glinted off the chalice as she tipped it slowly upwards so that the burgundy liquid rolled down the walls and towards her slightly parted lips. The wine slipped down her throat in a culmination of the kiss, and as she brought the glass back to her side she turned to Erik.
"Why did you stop reading?" Angelique's voice was warm with the wine, but miraculously it seemed to be the only effect that the liquor was having on her, regardless of the fact that she had been keeping pace with Erik all night, glass for glass. Clearing his throat, he picked up the book.
"My mind was…elsewhere." Noticing that her glass was empty, he picked up the bottle. "Would you care for more wine?"
"Certainly." Smiling, Angelique picked up the book as Erik refilled their glasses. "Can't we read something a little more mysterious?" Her cheeks were growing pink with the wine, and Erik turned to look at her.
"You don't care for M. Fontaine's fables?" An amused tone crept into his voice as he poured the last of the dark red liquid into his glass. "It appears we have already finished this bottle."
"Oh, have we?" Angelique watched as Erik slowly pulled himself up from the floor. "Where are you going?"
"To fetch another bottle from the cellar. Would you like to select another book from the shelf while I'm gone?" Halfway out the door, he laughed softly. "Something a bit more mysterious?" As soon as his figure had passed from the doorway, Angelique got up and went over to the bookshelf. The whole thing was mostly filled with architectural books and poetry, and her face lit up as she found a book of Poe's short stories. Opening the book, she reclined before the fire again and picked up her last glass of wine. Swirling the drink about in the glass, she turned to her favorite story. Her eyes raced over the words of Masque of the Red Death, drinking in the irony as she drank the liquor, as she waited for Erik's return.
Before too long, he returned with a large bottle of wine in his hands. Angelique looked up from her story and smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling a little dizzy from the last glass of wine.
"Welcome back," she said, holding up the book. "I've found my favorite story, shall I read it to you?"
"You wish to read to me?" Erik sat back down next to her and promptly refilled her glass. "I would love to hear you read aloud." As she began the story, he closed his eyes to fully savor the sound of her voice.
The words tumbled forth from her lips, painting the vivid pictures into his mind and drawing him deeper into the story. Somewhere at the edges of his memory, the picture of his magnificent Red Death costume at a ball nearly a decade earlier lingered, causing a smile to play on his lips as he remembered the silence that had immediately overthrown the roomful of people. It truly had been a magnificent costume. In the background of this memory was Angelique's beautiful voice, turning Poe's story into a hypnotic song. All too soon it was over, and she turned to him.
"Shall I read another?"
"By all means, yes. I don't believe I could ever tire of listening to you read." With a smile, Angelique turned to the back of the book and began reading from 'Annabelle Lee.' The haunting words of the poem, about a man's loss of his beautiful young love stolen from him by the jealousy of the heavens, hit a little too close to home for Erik's comfort. Angelique felt him stiffen.
"You don't like this one?" There was no answer from the man sitting beside her, and she turned the page. "Let's see…'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary…'" Several times during the poem Angelique almost laughed out loud, but managed somehow to stifle the laughter. The wine continued to flow freely, and by the time the poem was finished, Erik was finishing his glass of wine. Angelique closed the book with a thump. "Goodness, what a dreadful little poem that was!"
"I'm afraid I'm inclined to agree with you," he said, picking up the bottle to pour himself another glass. Angelique set the book on the ground nearby.
"It certainly won't go down in any history books," she remarked sourly, finishing her own wine and holding the glass out to Erik for a refill. Nothing came forth from the mouth of the bottle, and Angelique cocked her head at it. "Hm. It appears that we've done it again."
"Yes. I'm quite surprised that neither of us are completely potted yet." As he watched, Angelique stood up and wobbled her way toward the cabinet where Erik kept the strong liquor.
"Speak for yourself," she said with a giggle as she opened the cabinet and surveyed the contents. "Those words were beginning to float around on the page for a moment back there."
"Then why are you in my liquor cabinet?" Laughing, Erik stood up from his place by the fire. Observing with some dismay that he was also beginning to feel a bit lightheaded, he went towards her.
"Because I can still walk straight." With a silly smile, Angelique attempted to demonstrate just how straight she was able to walk, and Erik intercepted her halfway. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her on the forehead.
"My dear, there was nothing straight about the way you walked." Motioning upwards, he smiled. "Would you like to go up and see the Jardin de Tuileries? You mentioned it the other day."
"Really?" A few weeks earlier, Angelique had read a book that mentioned the architecture of Paris and had seen a picture of Tuileries. After that, she had told Erik about the time when her parents took her to see the Jardin when she was younger. Ever since he had told her about her birth mother, she had taken to talking on and on about her adopted parents. That night, she had expressed a slight desire to see it again but had never made any time to go up and see it. "Are you sure?"
"Of course." Taking her hand, Erik pulled her downstairs. The more she moved, the dizzier Angelique felt, but when they emerged into the cool air outside his house, she felt a little steadier. Erik got into the boat first and arranged the pillows for her. Holding a hand out for Angelique, he smiled broadly. "Come along, my dear." She took his hand and stepped into the boat. The unsteadiness of the boat, coupled with her unsure legs caused her to trip as she stepped down into the craft. Falling into Erik's arms, she blushed a little as she felt her body pressing against his. For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn't.
"Sorry," Angelique said softly, biting her lip. "I think the wine is finally affecting me a little bit."
"Happens to the best of us," Erik responded easily, setting her onto the pillows. "I hear that the Tuileries are beautiful at night." The smoothness with which he changed the subject was amazing, and no mention was made of the way their bodies had touched. The boat slowly made its way towards the Rue Scribe.
* * *
"How beautiful the Jardin is at night!" Spreading her arms wide, Angelique threw her head back to look at the starry sky. Marred by a few drifting clouds, the heavens were wildly spattered with stars, reminding her of the belief that the sky was nothing but a bowl put over the earth with hundreds of tiny pinpricks in it. Still a bit dizzy with the wine, she twirled around in the moonlight while Erik sat on a nearby bench like a statue. "Erik, look up at the sky!"
"It is quite nice, isn't it?" Absently, he looked into the sky. Something was gnawing at the corners of his mind, but he wasn't exactly sure what it was. It felt important, but with the excitement over the completion of the opera and the wine that seemed to be having a delayed reaction on his mind, he couldn't figure out what it was. A moment later, Angelique plopped down beside him with a smile.
"What are you thinking?" She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder gently. Turning slowly to her, he returned her smile.
"I keep feeling as if I have forgotten something." To this, Angelique nodded slowly. The night was unseasonably cool for the beginning of summer and a breeze blew over the Jardin, rippling the black waters of the pond gently. The moon's light cast sparkling ghosts over the water, tiny spirits which shimmered and danced before Angelique's eyes. It wasn't exactly a wind, but it was strong enough to blow her hair back from her face with a surprising force. Her body felt warm with the influence of the liquor they had drank before leaving, and the breeze was a welcome visitor. Looking over at Erik, she wondered if he had ever felt the wind's gentle caress on his bare face.
"This breeze is wonderful, darling," she murmured softly, touching his hand. "You should feel it." He didn't answer, and Angelique reached over to gently remove his mask. Not a single word of protest escaped his lips as she did so, and as the wind arose once more, Erik closed his eyes to feel it. It was indeed one of the most comforting sensations he had ever felt, although he didn't know why. He couldn't remember one time in his life that he had ever been able to feel a soft breeze over his unmasked face. Angelique leaned over to place a tender kiss on his cheek, then smiled. "I'm so glad we came up here."
"Yes. I can think of nothing more beautiful than seeing your face in the moonlight. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't cruel of me to keep you down below the ground with me when you should be up here, seeing the moon as well as the stars and sun and rain." His musings caused Angelique to shake her head forcefully.
"Cruel? If it is cruel to allow a woman to stay with the man that she loves, then by all means, be as barbaric as possible!" Grabbing his hand, Angelique pulled him off the bench. The force of the wine in her system threatened to tip them both into the pool at the center of the Tuileries, but Erik's weight kept them upright.
"Where are we going now?" Reaching back to grab his mask, Erik followed her to the street which ran near the Jardin de Tuileries. As they approached the well-lit street, he pressed the mask back into place before they actually made it to the boulevard. Angelique pointed up at the horizon of the city.
"Look…the Arc de Triomphe is so beautiful from here!" Her slender finger was like a beacon towards the thing, and Erik nodded.
"Yes, it is one of the pieces of architecture in this city that…" Just as he was about to say something, a droplet of rain plopped unceremoniously onto his mask. Looking into the sky, Erik was the first to get hit full force by the downpour.
"Rain?" Uncomprehending, Angelique looked up into the falling rain. "Why did it have to go and rain now?" As if answering her question, it began to rain harder. Sobered up immediately by the needle-like spray of rain, Erik grabbed Angelique's hand and pulled her urgently towards the main street where several broughams were waiting for customers to come along.
"Come along, dear, before you catch cold."
"But it's warm!" Laughing, Angelique allowed him to pull her as the warm drops of rain soaked through her dress and wet her skin. "Why are we running from water?"
"Because I'm an old, impatient man and I don't wish to walk around in the rain like some moon-eyed dandy with his lady friend. We can take a cab to the Rue Scribe." There was a bit of a laugh in Erik's voice as they hurried, and Angelique sighed.
"What if I told you that you were a moon-eyed dandy?" They had reached the neatly lined broughams, and he pushed her into one with a snort of laughter. Erik slammed the cab's door behind her.
"If I were a dandy at any time in my life, I should think I would be the first to know it." Shaking some of the water from his jacket, Erik looked over at her with a shake of his head. "Isn't there an age limit for dandies?" It took him a moment to realize that there was another person in the cab with them, and he turned to ask them to vacate his brougham. As he did, Erik noticed that it wasn't just anyone in their cab. The man smiled a bit at the couple as he shook his head.
"Good evening, Erik."
"Nadir Khan! You do have a dreadful habit of popping up in other people's cabs, don't you?" Angelique looked confused as they began to speak to one another in an odd mixture of Persian and French, and Erik took her hand. "I would like you to meet my dear lady friend Angelique. We were having a lovely walk before this rain began."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle." Nadir bowed a little to her, then looked at Erik. "Have you been drinking?"
"A bit, daroga. We were celebrating the completion of our opera!" This was spoken quite grandly, and Angelique smiled. They had started talking in French again, to her happiness.
"An opera? Do you mean that she lives with you?" At once, a look of alarm came over Nadir's face, and Erik nodded complacently. "But--"
"Are we going somewhere or are we going to sit here all night and chat?" The driver turned and gave the three people a look, disregarding Erik's mask.
"Of course," Nadir said, regaining some composure. He gave the driver the address of his home, then sat back and watched what Erik was doing. At that moment, he seemed to be fussing over Angelique's wet hair and clothes.
"I shall not catch a cold," she was protesting noisily, and Erik reached up to push her dripping hair out of her face. "Erik, I am a grown woman…"
"Forgive me for worrying," the masked man replied, still fiddling with her hair. "But you do look a sight with that hair in your face." This went on until they reached Nadir's flat, and Erik helped Angelique out of the brougham while Nadir paid the fare. Walking another few meters in the rain only made her hair wetter than before, and they stepped into the flat, Angelique looked down at herself.
"Good heavens, haven't I gained weight!" The wet dress was clinging to her body, and she sighed. "Botticelli would have had fun with me."
"He would have done nothing of the sort," Erik said, as Nadir handed her a towel. "Why don't you dry yourself off while we talk?"
"Certainly. Then maybe I can make you both some tea," she said huffily as Darius, Nadir's manservant, showed her to the bath room. Once she was gone, Nadir and Erik sat in the study to talk.
"I waited several hours for you, Erik. Had you forgotten our appointment?" The smaller man looked over at Erik, who shrugged unaffectedly.
"Perhaps it was the wine. Besides, daroga, you have nothing to worry about. We've been so preoccupied with that opera that I haven't had time to break my promise to you." Darius brought them some warm tea, which Erik accepted.
"Tell me more about this opera," Nadir said, a little guardedly. Nodding, Erik set his teacup aside. "Is she truly helping you write it?"
"My dear friend, she is writing the music on her own. I am simply helping her with the lyrics and arrangements." Changing his mind, Erik picked up the teacup and sipped a bit of the warm liquid. "And before you even think to ask it, she is staying with me of her own free will. Her door is unbolted, her mind is clear. There is nothing keeping her with me, aside from her own…affection for me." It sounded as if even he didn't believe what he was saying, and Nadir gave him a close look.
"Are you certain, Erik?" Before they had a chance to say anything else, Angelique appeared in the doorway, braiding her long dark hair. Finishing the braid as she walked across the room, she lay the wet rope of hair over her shoulder and placed a gentle hand on Erik's shoulder.
"What a nice little flat you have here, M. Khan," Angelique remarked as she looked around. Smiling over at Nadir, she perched herself on the arm of the chair and put an arm protectively over Erik's shoulders. It was an odd little habit she had sometimes, but comforting, and Erik gave Nadir a pointed smile. "Do you suppose I could get a bit of that lovely tea?"
"Of course! Where are my manners!" Calling for Darius, he informed the man that their lady guest would like some tea. While he was talking to his retainer, Angelique noticed the smell of the apartment was very much like that of Erik's house. It was nice, and she closed her eyes for a moment as she noticed it. "So, Mademoiselle, Erik tells me that you two are working on an opera together?"
"Yes," Angelique said with a smile as Darius reappeared with her tea. She thanked him politely, then sipped at it. "Shall I tell you a bit about it?"
* * *
"What a nice time," Angelique remarked as they entered the house on the lake again. "I'm quite fond of your friend." She was dying to get out of her wet clothes, and Erik nodded.
"Yes, Nadir is the only person I believe I can safely consider a friend." They ascended the stairs together, lingering a moment near Angelique's doorway. "Are you going tomorrow to try and pitch the opera to those ridiculous managers?"
"Unfortunately, yes. And to be completely honest with you, I'm quite nervous about it. They've turned me down so many times before…" Not allowing her to finish the sentence, Erik kissed her forehead.
"Please try not to worry about it tonight, dearest. I shall be beside you tomorrow, if naught but in spirit." With a loving gaze at her delicate features, he smiled. "Now get out of those wet clothes before you really do catch cold. Especially down here." With that, he started down the hall to his room. "Good night, my dear."
"Good night, Erik." Disappearing into her room, Angelique took off the dress with some difficulty. It seemed to have molded itself to her body, and it took some wriggling before she was able to get it onto the floor. Hanging it over the edge of the bathtub, she hoped that it would dry properly as she put on her nightgown and robe. Nearly all of the wine's delicious dizziness had left her, and she lay back on the bed. Sometimes she half wished that Erik would sleep with her in the same room, but just as she did tonight, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. What kind of woman thought those sorts of things?
Slipping out of her clothes and into her nightgown, Angelique crawled into her bed and looked up at the ceiling. At least she knew where Erik went sometime during the month, and it was good to know that he had a friend.
Although she didn't want to tell him, Angelique was quite glad that the opera was finished. In the past months, she had wanted so much to spend more time with Erik, to talk to him about their lives before they had met one another. But they both were so obsessed with finishing the opera and making it just right that they both had almost forgotten that there was another person in the house.
While they were having dinner, Erik had agreed with her that it would probably be a good idea for her to take the opera up to the managers the next day, while all its best features were still fresh in her mind. As she lay in bed, Angelique planned out what she was going to wear the next day. Something pretty, but mature enough so that they would know she was completely serious about it. And of course she would fix her hair, it would be nicer that way.
With a sigh, she wished that Erik would join her. But she knew that he wouldn't go up to the surface unless it was nighttime or he had business with the managers. And as he had told her a few weeks earlier, she couldn't rely on him for everything. After all, he wasn't going to be around forever, and at his age he had to think of every possible direction life could go. Angelique had shushed him immediately, informing him firmly that it was bad luck to be so negative. This had caused Erik to laugh, and they had gone on with the second act of the opera. But it left a little worried place in Angelique's mind.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was so much older than she was, but since Angelique didn't really think age had anything to do with love, whenever she did think about it, she pushed it out of her mind. The very thought of being without Erik made her feel nervous, and she pulled the comforter over her head. She wasn't going to think about that right now. The most important thing was that to try and get some sleep. After all, nothing was going to happen to Erik and tomorrow was very important.
Hoping that the managers would see the opera as she and Erik did, Angelique closed her eyes. Everything would turn out all right, she knew it.
* * *
Stomach fluttering nervously as she clutched the nicely bound score of the opera to her chest, Angelique looked up at the grand staircase. It seemed to go on forever, steps coated with silky red carpet yawning into eternity before her, and she didn't remember the staircase being quite so long.
Looking around for a moment to delay the inevitable, she noticed that the ceramic ornaments around the great hall had been replaced since the night Erik threw his temper tantrum in the theatre. The memory was fading a little, but she still remembered the feeling of his hand across her face, as well as the kiss they had shared later that night. Smiling a little, she took a deep breath and started up the stairs.
Since the last time she had been in the theatre, the office had been moved upstairs. This was something she would have to inform Erik of. Of course, she thought, he probably already knew, he knew everything about the theatre. But he hadn't picked up his salary this month, and perhaps he didn't know.
Her whole train of thought felt like nothing more than a diversion to keep her mind off the unpleasantness she was certain was going to occur at the top of the stairs, and Angelique continued with it. Anything to keep her breakfast in place.
To the few people who actually were in the theatre, Angelique was showing no signs of nervousness. Her hair was arranged beautifully on the top of her head, in a regal and ladylike style that she and Erik had somehow managed to concoct that morning. Before she left Angelique had been unsure about how it would look, but after checking herself in the powder room, she decided she was rather pleased with the outcome. Her dress was a fashionable style in dark green, and the entire effect of this was to make her look about five years older than she was. They had both hoped that this would serve to make the managers more receptive to the opera. So far, so good, as no one around the opera house had recognized her. Several men had already tipped their hats at her, and as she approached the top of the stairs, she took a deep breath and hoped that the managers would be as kind.
The door to the managers' office loomed before her, and Angelique swallowed hard as she examined the sign on the door. Messieurs Montcharmin et Richard. Quite nervously, she reached toward the door. Reprimanding herself silently, Angelique wondered why she was being so nervous about this. The managers had always annoyed her to no end, but they had never made her so fidgety.
Clearing her mind of everything but Erik's words, Angelique reached out and knocked on the door. At first no one came, and she was afraid that they weren't inside. But a moment later, the heavy wooden door swung inward. Putting on her nicest smile, Angelique stepped inside and hoped for the best.
* * *
Only slightly perturbed at the silence that had overtaken the house with Angelique's departure, Erik sat at his organ playing around with the notes. His music echoed through the house, but having no one to hear it made the aria seem a bit empty. He hadn't realized just how used to having her around he had gotten, and now that she wasn't there he began to wonder just how he had gotten along without her.
Nadir's questions the night before made him wonder about just how much he trusted Angelique to stay with him of her own free will, and had immediately come to the decision that he trusted her. He loved her so much that he couldn't bear to think of losing her. Even though it was always a possibility, and even though it hurt to put so much trust in a woman who was…human. Although he tended to put her up on a pedestal, set standards for her that no normal person could even hope to achieve, she was still undeniably human. But she had proven more than once that she wasn't just going to leave him without a word, so he wasn't exactly sure why he was so worried about her leaving the house. After all, she was just going up to the opera house.
Before she had left, Erik had just about been able to see the tension radiating from her body. This opera meant so much to her, he didn't think she could stand hearing it being torn apart by those idiots who didn't know much more about music than a major scale. If that. He hoped, if nothing else, that they would be halfway civil to her.
Pulling out his sketches, Erik looked over the pictures. With the opera taking up almost all of their time, he hadn't had much opportunity to make any others. As far as he was concerned, though, his favorite was still the angel picture. Lately, when he had been looking at it, he wondered how it would look rendered in oils. He hadn't tried a painting before, at least not that he could remember, and thought that it might be a nice addition to his room. It had been much too long since he had put something new in his room, and a picture of Angelique would be perfect. That way she would be the first thing he saw in the morning and at night.
Taking another look at the shading in the picture, he decided that the more he looked at it, the more he liked the idea of a painting. Her face would look radiant with the color added to her cheeks, and there were several different shades of white that would make the feathers seem almost lifelike.
Erik was so lost in thought that he almost didn't hear the door slam downstairs, followed by Angelique's running footsteps. They passed his door and faded into her room, ending abruptly with the slamming of her own door. Frowning, Erik stood up and moved towards the door, the drawings still in his hands. A moment later, the sound of crying came to his sharp ears.
Completely forgetting that the drawings were in his hand, Erik hurried into the hallway and knocked on her door loudly. There was no answer, and he knocked again a little louder. This time, the crying just got louder, and Erik pushed open the door without another thought.
"Angelique, what's happened?" She had flung herself across the bed, facedown, and was crying as if her heart had broken in half. Sitting next to her and allowing the drawings to slip from between his fingers, Erik patted her back gently. "I can't do a thing about it if you won't talk to me."
"They were so mean…" Not looking up at him, she cried into her pillow, which was clutched tightly to her chest. "It's not like I was asking them to rebuild the theatre, just look at our opera. But they wouldn't even do that. They…" Starting to cry all over again, Angelique pressed her face into her pillow. Afraid that she would smother herself, Erik pulled the pillow away from her.
"My poor dear. I should have known they would do something like this. Forgive me for sending you up there by yourself." It was quite a job to get her into his lap, but somehow he managed it. Sniffling, Angelique lay her head on his shoulder and tried to stop crying for his sake. "Here, let me find you a handkerchief. That sniffling has to be the most irritating sound in the world."
"I don't care," she grumbled, curling herself into a little ball on his lap. "I'll sniffle if I want."
"Well I do care." Reaching into his pocket, Erik handed her a plain man's handkerchief. Resisting the urge to ask what he used them for, she accepted it and wiped her face. "And I shall go up there right away and tell them exactly what I think of them for treating a lady in such a way." Looking around, he frowned. "Where is the score?"
"On my dresser. Stupid Notre Dame. Whatever possessed us to write this piece of junk anyway?" No sooner had she spoken the words than Erik snatched her chin and forced her little red face up to look into his eyes. His usually gentle hands grasped her face firmly, and she wriggled around a little.
"If I ever hear you say anything like that about our opera again, I shall become quite unhappy with you. You know as well as I that the music in that booklet is the greatest opera known to man, and I won't allow you to berate it just because the managers have put you in a foul mood." His eyes were glittering with rage aimed at both her and the managers, and Angelique struggled to break free of his grasp. A moment later, he leaned down to kiss her rather roughly. The angry scowl on her face disappeared as soon as he pressed his lips to hers, and she smiled. "Now, we are going to march back up there and demand that they examine our opera just as carefully as if it were one of Verdi's own." Noticing the drawings that were on the floor, Erik leaned over to pick them up. Angelique frowned as she looked at him.
"What are those?"
"Just some sketches I have been working on," he replied nonchalantly. Interested, Angelique leaned over to look at them. "Come along, let's repair your hair before we go up to the opera house. It won't do to have you looking like you've been crying."
"I want to see the drawings," Angelique insisted, closing her hand around the edges of the pictures. Reluctantly, Erik relinquished them to her, awaiting her reaction. "These are…of me?" Sorting through them carefully, Angelique looked up at him in disbelief. "They're so beautiful! I can't believe it!"
"That I could draw such a lovely picture?" Sounding rather surprised, Erik looked over at her, but she was still focused on the drawings.
"No, that you spent so much time drawing pictures of me." Tipping her face up a little to kiss him on the cheek, Angelique shook her head. "You managed to make me look so beautiful."
"Although I would dearly love to take credit for that, I'm afraid I could never be responsible for such a thing. You are already much too beautiful." Pleased that she had stopped crying, Erik stood up. "Now come along. We have no time to waste." Setting the drawings aside, Angelique got up and went for her hairbrush. Once she was satisfied that she looked nice again, she straightened the wrinkles out of her dress and followed him out of the house to the dock.
* * *
Thirty minutes and rather a lot of yelling later, the managers were sitting together at the writing desk of the main office poring over the score of Notre Dame de Paris. Although they were not pleased to be doing so, MM Firmin and Andre sat before the score, waiting for the other to finish the page. However, it was not terribly easy to concentrate on a score when a large man dressed in black is looming behind you. Not to mention the fact that MM Andre and Firmin knew about as much about music as the bushmen of New Guinea. But still, they read it while Erik amused Angelique with several small feats of legerdemain.
After a pause, M Firmin turned to M Andre after checking that Erik was still in the middle of his parlor tricks.
"Andre, as much as I hate to admit it, I think this opera may actually be a winner." He flipped the page. "I don't know much about music, but perhaps we'd better let M Reyer look at it before we make any judgements."
"That is a splendid idea," Erik remarked, popping up behind them. Firmin looked as if he were about to have a heart attack at this sudden movement, and Erik smiled. "Why don't you take it to him right away?"
"But he is in the middle of…" Andre was interrupted by a voice that was all too familiar to him and his associate.
"RIGHT AWAY." Once that tone had come into Erik's voice there was no arguing, and the managers picked up the score and hurried downstairs to the rehearsal hall. With a smile, Erik turned to Angelique. "That's done, then."
"What do you mean?" Looking confused, she leaned against the desk. Erik motioned for her to come with him, and they walked down the grand staircase. No one was in sight, so he didn't seem bothered by the fact that they were wandering around the opera house in the middle of the day.
"How clever of them to move the office up to where they knew I didn't have a passageway. But really, if they think that's all it's going to take to stop me, they are seriously mistaken." Leading her into the old office, Erik kissed her forehead. "I believe this is up to you now."
"You're leaving?" Panic overtook Angelique's face at once, and he nodded as he opened the wall before her eyes.
"There is no other need for me to be here right now. I have perfect confidence in your abilities to handle the situation now. All they needed was a little prodding." The look on his face told Angelique that he did indeed trust her with this, and although she didn't want to see him go, she couldn't help but feel a little proud.
"That they do," she said, trying to keep the grin out of her voice. "Who is M Reyer, though?"
"M Reyer is the stage director. He has been with this opera company since it opened, and he knows perfectly well that all it takes to prevent a tragedy is compliance with my orders. I have no doubt, however, that being a reasonable and fair man, he will see the musical value of the work right away." Stepping into the passageway, Erik suddenly looked as if he remembered something.
"Something wrong?" Hoping that he had forgotten something so that he would stay with her, Angelique leaned closer to him.
"Tell them to have our box reserved without fail for the opening of our opera. I wouldn't want them to lose any more fine knick-knacks over such a trivial thing." With a small grin, the passage began to close. "I shall see you at home."
"Until then," she said absently. The wall closed tightly behind him, and Angelique slowly turned to walk back upstairs. There was quite a commotion coming from the rehearsal hall, and she started up the grand staircase slowly. If they wanted to talk to her, they could come to her.
And it wasn't too long before they did come to her. No sooner had she taken a seat before the managers' desk than the door burst open and spilled forth MM Firmin, Andre and Reyer. This time, Reyer was in front, waving the score.
"Where is he? I would know Erik's touch anywhere!" There was a huge grin on the face of the director, and MM Firmin and Andre looked around.
"He was in here a moment ago," M Firmin said, confused. Pointedly, he looked at the sitting Angelique. "Perhaps his lover knows?"
"Don't be vulgar," Angelique said, trying to keep the wishful tone out of her voice. "He had other matters to attend to that were more important than you." Turning her attention to M Reyer, she smiled. "However, Monsieur, I did write the music for that opera if you would like to talk to me about it."
"Certainly, my dear girl! Come downstairs to the rehearsal hall so we can put it into action right away! I would be doing the world quite a disservice to let this piece sit about on the desk any longer." At this, Angelique turned to toss a look at the managers who had turned her music down on more than one occasion. Leading her towards the door, M Reyer smiled. "You're quite lucky, Mademoiselle, not just anyone is lucky enough to be able to work alongside Erik." Their voices faded as they walked down the stairs, and MM Firmin and Andre looked at one another.
"We are getting much too old for this," M Firmin remarked wearily, and M Andre nodded his assent. A small, dark head popped in the door a moment later, smiling.
"By the way, Erik asks that you remember to keep our private box open for the opening night of our opera." Still smiling in a disgustingly sweet fashion, she waved. Just when they thought she was gone for good, she looked back into the office with a smirk. "Oh yes, and we're expecting his full salary this month again. Please try not to forget, or something terribly unpleasant may happen." Closing the door as she left, the managers could hear her voice calling to M Reyer and telling him that she was coming.
With a deep sigh, both men stared at the closed door. Complete silence filled the office, and it was a while before they spoke. M Andre was the first to speak again, his voice laden with exhaustion.
"Much too old."
* * *
Laughing like a child, Angelique ran down the stairs to go into the passage which Erik had showed her in the third cellar. Finding the proper stone to depress, she opened the passage and started down to the lake. Angelique was finding it terribly hard to control her happiness as she ran, and she wondered offhandedly why she hadn't just gone to see M Reyer in the first place.
The praise he had heaped onto her for her arrangements and music was almost too much to handle, and she was bursting with pride. No one besides Erik had ever complimented her music, making her feel as if he were the only one who even cared that she was writing any music at all. But now that someone else, someone who didn't live with her, liked her music. And as much as she loved him, Angelique always worried that Erik was just a tad bit biased.
Even the ride across the lake didn't seem so long, and she amused herself by singing a few happy arias from the opera. Though her voice wasn't professionally trained or anywhere near operatic, she still amused herself by trying to hum along with the music she had written in her head.
So excited about the opera that she couldn't quite fit the key into the lock, Angelique finally managed to get into the house with a happy smile. Running up the stairs, she was certain she sounded like an entire herd of elephants, but at that moment she could have cared less.
Erupting into Erik's room like a miniature volcano on the edge of ruining an entire city, she stood in the doorway as he turned to her.
"Can I assume from all the noise you made coming in that our opera has been picked up by the Opera Populaire?" There was a smile on his face that told her he had known all along, and she nodded.
"You'll never guess how much M Reyer offered me for it, either!" Proceeding to tell him all about it, Angelique was rather amused to see Erik's eyes widen slightly at the figure of money which they both knew was extravagant, even by the opera standards.
"The managers agreed to pay that much?"
"Yes, it was magnificent! M Reyer said he would walk out if they didn't pick it up at this price, and M Firmin said that the cheque would be in with your regular salary this month!" Throwing her arms around him, she laughed again. "Isn't this wonderful?"
"Indeed, my dear, it is. When will our opera be opening?" Making a point of emphasizing the word 'our,' Erik stood up and started towards the study. Angelique slipped her hand into his gently and followed him.
"Just over a month. They said that we could expect it to be finished by mid August, and that our box would be reserved as always." Still laughing, she looked at him. "This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me."
"I find that hard to believe, my angel." Pouring her a glass of wine, Erik held up his glass to hers. "I propose a small toast." To this, Angelique raised her glass. She couldn't believe that they weren't hung over from the night before, but they weren't.
"To what do you propose this toast?"
"To the opera. May it never fade from the memory and heart of the people of the world, and may it bring in a great deal of money for those mercenary bastards that run my theatre!" This made Angelique laugh out loud, nearly spilling her drink.
"To the opera!" With a smile, the two glasses clinked against one another, and Erik surreptitiously slipped his hand into his pocket. His long fingers brushed against a rather small object, and for a moment he thought about making a present of it at that very moment, but decided against it.
After all, good things come to those who wait.