Those Who Wait
The Paris Opera House was alive with excitement that night, so much in fact that one might have thought that it could be attributed to the arrival of some royal personage. Carpets had been cleaned, the chandelier polished, even all the curtains freshly laundered and ironed for the occasion.
Messieurs Andre and Firmin were hurrying back and forth between the rehearsal hall and the main hall, making last minute checks of all the sets and costumes, fussing over the diva's voice. They were the reason for this bustle, for that night Notre Dame de Paris was to be given for the first time on any stage. But it wasn't the opera itself, nor Erik's threats of tragedy that excited them, it was the fact that there was a leak in the opera house's hierarchy.
Somehow someone in the press had gotten hold of the singular fact that the opera that was to be given that night was written in part by the Phantom of the Opera, a man rumored to be long since dead. As soon as this had hit the papers, rich patrons had scrambled to the Opera House, offering donations for the production. Tickets had been sold out for the premiere since the day it had been announced they were on sale, and to be in the boxes that night was a special honor reserved only for the richest of the rich in Paris. All except Box Five, that was.
While the managers were making sure that the chandelier was perfectly shined, one of the future inhabitants of Box Five was on the main street selecting a new evening dress. Angelique was so excited that she could hardy stand it. Everything in her body wanted to run down the street to the Opera Populaire as fast as she could to see how the preparations were coming. But somehow she managed to control herself and select a lovely new dress for that night.
Leaving the dress shop, Angelique ran down the street to look for some new shoes and a hat for that night. As she did, she ran headlong into a man she recognized at once from years back. Angelique grinned.
"Monsieur de Chagny! How long has it been since I've seen you?" Cheerily, she shifted the box from one arm to the other. The man looked at her oddly.
"Have we met?"
"I'm not surprised you don't remember me," Angelique said with a smile. "I haven't seen you in about eight years or so." Holding out a little hand, she shifted the packages again. "Mlle Angelique DuBain."
"The girl from the theatre?" M de Chagny laughed. "You look quite different these days, Mademoiselle! I hope I find you well."
"Yes, as a matter of fact our opera is opening tonight at the Populaire." Not realizing that she would have to explain her words, Angelique was smiling brightly as she tried to shift her packages one more time.
"Our opera?" M de Chagny looked a bit confused, and she nodded.
"Notre Dame de Paris. Have you heard about it?" The packages were starting to get heavier in her arms, and she sighed. M de Chagny looked interested, and she noticed that he was just as good-looking as ever.
"Why of course I have! Right now it's the talk of the town." Realizing that he was being rude to her by not offering his help, M de Chagny held out his hands. "Mlle DuBain, will you allow me the pleasure of giving you a ride to your destination? You look almost ready to fall over under the weight of those packages."
"Thank you so much, monsieur." Not wasting a moment, Angelique followed M de Chagny to his brougham and allowed him to place her things into the seat. Grateful for the ride, Angelique allowed M de Chagny to help her into the brougham. His hands were almost as strong as Erik's, and she sat down on the velvety seat. Climbing in after her, he made it a point to sit across from her in a truly gentlemanly fashion. Although she knew he couldn't be over thirty, he seemed so young somehow.
"So, where are you off to?" He seemed as if he wanted to ask her something else, and Angelique cocked her head. Not wanting to lead him to the Rue Scribe, she described to him a place near the Rue, yet not quite there. Nodding, he smiled. "Of course, I shall have my driver take you there right away."
"Thank you again," she said with a smile as he relayed this info to the driver up in the front. M de Chagny turned back to her.
"Now, please tell me a bit more about this opera! The papers all say that it was written by the Phantom of the Opera."
"Mm." Giving him a sort of non-committal murmur, Angelique looked rather unsure of what to say to him about the things in the paper. The man smiled at her a bit wider, but more gently than before.
"How is Erik, anyway?" The moment the words were spoken, Angelique's head popped up from where she was staring at her hands.
"M de Chagny! How do you know Erik? Eyes widening, she twisted the fabric of her dress between her fingers nervously. M de Chagny laughed gently and patted her hand with a smile.
"Please, call me Raoul. Erik was a rather...close friend of my wife. She speaks of him quite often when we are at home." There was a wistful tone in his voice that Angelique decided not to comment on as he stared out the window. "He is quite a man, is he not?"
"I...I most certainly wouldn't know what you're talking about!" Blushing brightly, she looked back down into her lap. Raoul smiled again.
"But you do care for him."
"A great deal, Monsieur!" She received an odd look, and smiled. "...Raoul." After another long moment, she began to fidget with her dress once more. "I do love him...so very much."
"He seems to have that power over women," Raoul remarked, still looking out the window. "Is that why you wrote the opera?"
"No, we wrote it together. I've always wanted to put together something with music, that was so grand and beautiful that only true lovers of music could understand it. It's a bit...a bit like a child, really. He understood my desire to create something, and fueled it with his own. And we've both loved it so much that an entire grand opera came from just a little idea for an aria." A gentle light was shining in her blue eyes, and Raoul smiled. There was no question in his mind why Erik loved her. "But I've loved him since the first night I heard his voice."
"That's wonderful," murmured Raoul, somewhat in awe of the love she displayed towards Erik. He reached over to take her hands gingerly. "And his face…it doesn't…"
"Frighten me? On the contrary, I prefer that he keep the mask off when we're at home alone. There's a wonderful man behind that mask, but everyone else is just too involved with looking at his outward appearance that they don't bother to look into his heart. His intentions are good…but sometimes he just get expresses them the wrong way." Now her eyes were staring into the distance. "I'm actually more afraid that he might one day ask me to go away from him." Remembering the night Erik had asked Christine to leave with Raoul, he felt his stomach do a somersault.
"Surely, mademoiselle, you must realize that he is a great deal older than yourself." Concerned for the best interests of the little girl he had 'rescued' from the managers so many years previous, Raoul couldn't help wondering if she understood the full ramifications of what she was doing.
"Of course. But I don't see what that has to do with anything at all." Biting back her words, she sighed. She hadn't meant to sound so defensive, but it was indeed a touchy bit of information with her. The thought that Erik might leave her life sooner than she wanted was more than a little worrying, and she tried not to think about it.
"Nothing at all, mademoiselle. After all, which of us can choose when or whom we will love? But what should you do if something were to happen to him?" The concern in his voice was apparent, and his voice was softer than before. "We're headed for the Rue Scribe, I suppose this means you live with him."
"Please, Raoul, don't get any strange ideas! It's not like that at all!" Once again, her body betrayed the emotions she was attempting to keep bottled inside, sending a fierce rush of color to her cheeks.
"I'm sure I wasn't implying anything. You seem to be a very nice girl, and Erik has, well, usually, been a gentleman…in the time I've known him anyway." A memory from years ago of Raoul's nice smile resurfaced as he directed it at her again, and Angelique tried to think of something to say to him.
"How did your wife meet Erik?" The question was nosier than she had meant, and Raoul laughed softly, wistfully.
"Years ago, I believe around the time I first met you, in fact, Erik was in love with the woman who is presently my wife. He did everything in his power to make her love him, and I believe in the end that she truly did love him. But he told her to go with me, because he knew she cared for me and I for her. Sometimes, though, I wonder if she left because Erik told her to, and not because she really wanted to." Fetching a deep sigh from the depths of his soul, Raoul looked out the window. Angelique cocked her head at him, trying to realize the full effect of what he was saying.
"Where is your wife now?" Her question seemed to brighten him up a bit, and he turned back to her from the mirror.
"Christine is at home at the moment. I didn't think it was proper for her to travel, in her condition…but she was so sad, she wanted to see the new opera." Shaking his head, Raoul looked at Angelique. "Also, I am still a patron of the theatre. I was there dropping off some…funds for the performance." He seemed happier now, and Angelique grinned brightly.
"Do you mean to say that you are expecting a child?" The nod was all she needed to make her squeal with delight. "How lucky for you!" The brougham approached Angelique's aforementioned drop point, but it passed by without a thought. Angelique noticed this, despite her happiness. "Where are we going?"
"To the entrance at the Rue Scribe. There's no need for you to carry all those heavy packages when I'm right here to help you out." Presently, the brougham stopped just at the Rue Scribe entrance, at which point Raoul helped Angelique down onto the street before taking her packages into his arms.
"You're quite kind, Raoul. Can I assume that you also know something about the lake and the house as well?" They walked together towards the entrance, and Raoul laughed rather loudly.
"Know something? My dear, I was a guest in the torture chamber for a bit!"
"My! Then I suppose you won't mind helping me put these packages in the boat? They really are quite dreadfully heavy." Smiling, she led Raoul into the darkness.
As they approached the dock, Angelique was surprised to see that her boat bore a passenger. Erik was sitting, waiting for her as if it was something he always did. Angelique grinned, then fumbled in her pocket for the key.
In the boat, Erik's heart sank for a moment. It couldn't be…why was his beloved Angelique walking with the Vicomte de Chagny? Where was Christine? And for the love of music, what were they both doing smiling so grandly? Erik's fists clenched unconsciously. If that boy took another woman from him, so help him, he wasn't responsible for the consequences. Silently as a statue, Erik watched her search for the key. Afraid to move or talk, he sat watching them.
It couldn't possibly be what he was thinking. Who knew better than he that his dear Angelique didn't like men like Raoul? She liked intelligent men, men who…who… Cursing silently, Erik looked at them, attempting to control the massive surge of jealousy that was flooding his body. Raoul was carrying her packages, but where was Christine? He professed to love her so much more than Erik did, where was she now? Was he afraid that she would run back to him the moment Raoul's back was turned?
"Erik, what are you doing here?" Having unlocked the gate at last, Angelique approached him with a smile. Putting her arms around him, she kissed his cheek with a tenderness that drove all thoughts of jealousy out of his mind. "I thought you were at home, darling." As she spoke, Raoul wordlessly placed her packages into the boat, keeping an eye on Erik as he did so. Looking up at him, Erik regarded the young man.
"Good evening, Monsieur le Vicomte," he spoke quite cordially to Raoul, who returned the smile with a small bow. "I take it you are well?"
"Quite, thank you. And yourself?"
"I cannot complain." This strained, polite dialogue went on for a moment, and Angelique found it increasingly tiresome.
"Although I did not expect to see you here, Erik." Standing just near the gate, Raoul smiled broadly at the masked man.
"Ah, well, life is full of pretty little surprises, is it not?" Finally rising from his seat, Erik extended a hand to Angelique, who took it eagerly and stepped into the boat. "You will give my regards to Christine, won't you?"
"I shall," Raoul said as the boat began to move slowly through the waters. "I'm sure she will be quite pleased."
"Yes," Erik murmured absently as they left Raoul standing behind on the dock. Blinking, Angelique looked at Erik.
"Aren't you going to lock the gate?"
"I trust that he will do it before he departs. I doubt he has any further desire to see the inside of our house." The addition of 'our' to his usual mention of the little house across the lake caused Angelique's heart to beat a little faster. "How did you happen to meet the Vicomte de Chagny?"
"Oh, is he a Vicomte?" Raising her eyebrow, Angelique smiled. "He must have thought me terribly rude. Oh well…I met him several years ago, when MM Firmin and Andre were being less than kind about my stumbling into the theatre. This afternoon, he just happened to be at the Opera Populaire, dropping off some fund for tonight's performance." Rifling through one of the packages as she spoke, Angelique looked up. "Quite a nice man, though he's much too pretty for my tastes."
"Yes, quite." Seemingly lost in thought, Erik looked out over the water as he spoke to her. Angelique turned to him, frowning.
"Why are you so quiet?" This earned her a shake of the head from Erik, and she placed her hands on her hips. "Erik," she said impatiently. Her reward was a cryptic look from him, and she began to get exasperated. "Erik!"
"You may remember yesterday when I went up to the Opera Populaire to collect my salary?" Taking a little tin of peppermints from his jacket, he offered it to Angelique. Wrinkling her nose, she took one to be polite. These were the oddest mints she had ever tasted, but she could never bring herself to tell Erik that she thought they were too strong. "The managers informed me that it was not ready. When I inquired as to what they meant, they further informed me that the theatre stopped paying my salary months ago, that it was now being funded by an outside source." Placing one of the chalky white mints into his mouth, Erik tucked the tin away. "Unless I do not receive my salary tonight, I believe I have unraveled the mystery of my new benefactor." At that moment, Angelique began coughing. "Are you quite well, my dear?"
"It's just the mint," she gasped as he patted her back gently. "It was a bit strong, and…" Stopping for a moment, her eyes widened considerably. "Good heavens…I think I've swallowed it whole." This elicited a roar of laughter from Erik's side of the boat, and she looked indignant. "I see you don't care a whit for my well-being."
"Of course I do, my dear. But I don't know why you continue eating the mints if you don't like them." The boat continued on its way to the house across the lake, and Angelique blushed as she tried to defend her eating of the mints.
Near the Rue Scribe, however, Raoul still stood on the dock. Slowly, with a sweeping gesture, he removed his hat and bowed to the emptiness.
Bravo, Erik. If anyone deserves it, it's you.
* * *
Although Angelique had been given the option of walking into the theatre in order to greet her patrons, she had chosen to take the long way through the walls in her fancy new dress. However, Erik made certain that not a single speck of dust fell onto her lovely gown. They emerged into Box Five from the pillar, and Erik carefully removed her cloak as she moved towards the armchair. Sitting lightly on the chair, Angelique laughed a little and he turned to her.
"What is it?"
"I was just thinking about the first time I was here. Were you watching me from within the walls?" Her gentle eyes were smiling, and Erik felt himself turn red beneath the mask. He had hoped she would never find out about it.
"Perhaps for a moment or two." Trying to avoid saying too much, he sat next to her in the chair and reached up to the shelf of the box. There was a rather large envelope laying there, addressed to the 'attention of O.G.' Smiling, he tucked it into his pocket. "Are you excited about tonight?"
"Very much so," she said, standing up and wandering over to the edge of the box. Looking out over the crowd of people, she once again found herself wondering what they were saying to each other. Perhaps they were talking about the weather, or maybe about the fact that the Opera Populaire didn't seem to be making as much money as it used to. Were they chatting about one another's clothing or about the quality of life? She supposed at least some of them were as excited as she about the opera as she and Erik, but she doubted that anyone was as nervous as she was. For some reason, Erik seemed to be calmer than her about the whole thing, and she paced back and forth. Noticing her discomfort, Erik stood up and pulled her closer to him.
"Relax, my dear. Everything will be perfect, I'm certain of it." The sensation of his arms folding around her seemed to set her world right again, and Angelique lay her head on his chest. She liked listening to his heart beating. The slow, regular thunder that emanated from within was soothing, and she closed her eyes. Erik laughed, sending a deep rumble through his chest. "I'm sure they're all down there wondering what sort of scene I shall cause tonight."
"And what sort of scene will you be causing?" With a tiny smile, Angelique looked up at him. Returning the smile, Erik led her over to her chair.
"Would you like me to cause a scene?" Glancing out over the audience, Erik could see some of the patrons stealing glances up at the chandelier. Did they really think he would destroy another one before the show had even started?
"Only if you must. I wouldn't want to ruin the premiere of our magnificent new opera. I can't believe it's actually happening. Ever since I was a child, I wanted to give people something that would make them feel the way I do about music. I keep hoping that this will be the music that makes them understand." Angelique's eyes traveled over the empty stage and up to the chandelier.
Below, someone came into the theatre and informed the patrons that the show would be starting momentarily. The crowd began to move towards their seats, and Angelique pressed her hands to her throat as the blood rushed up into her cheeks.
"Erik," she murmured softly, her voice sounding as if she were being strangled. "We can't go through with this…what if they hate it? What if everything we've gone through and done for this opera is for nothing?" Nearly jumping to her feet, Angelique reached for the bell pull. "We have to get Mme Giry to stop it!"
"Calm down, my dear. Everything will be fine." Reaching over, Erik grabbed her arm and sat her back into her chair. "I know that everyone will love our opera just as much as we do." His eyes bored into hers, and Angelique shook her head.
"I can't…I don't think…what if they…" Her breathing was ragged, and her blue eyes were darting back and forth nervously. Erik's hand was firm on her arm, not allowing her to move. For a moment he considered trying to hypnotize her with his voice as he usually did to people who were trying his patience, but he had found out once before that Angelique was one of the few people whose will was too strong for him to bend in any way.
"Sit down, please." The sound of his voice was enough to make her calm down a little, but her hands were shaking. Gently patting her hand, he directed her attention to the stage. "Look, the curtain is going up. It's too late to stop it now." Her face was still riddled with concern, and Erik reached up to touch her face. "Angelique, you of all people should know that I'm the worst critic you could possibly have. If I say that it's good, that's all you should need to give you confidence."
"Certainly aren't modest, are you?" A small tremor worked its way through her body, and Erik kept his hand in place on her cheek. Her eyes were focused on the stage, where a facade of Notre Dame Cathedral was standing watch over the singers. After a few moments, she relaxed back into her seat. The crowd below seemed to be giving their opera a favorable reaction, and she actually allowed herself a little smile.
On the stage, the tenor playing Quasimodo shuffled into the scene. Looking a little closer, Angelique nodded pleasantly. The costume designers had done a good job on the clothes and a truly decent job on the makeup. She couldn't wait to see what they had done with Esmeralda's outfits.
Next to her, Erik was only half-listening to the music and not looking at the stage at all. He was more occupied with watching her face as she examined the costumes and the settings. Nothing escaped her attention, not the flutist's tempo change, not the stumbling of the second row of the corps de ballet, not even the mezzo-soprano's single flat note. Each time something went even the slightest bit wrong, Angelique looked as if she were going to be ill. She was so involved with the music that Erik almost didn't dare to take her hand.
The moment his skin touched hers, she jumped about a foot into the air. Realizing that it was only Erik, she relaxed again and squeezed his hand. Their eyes made contact for an instant, and she blushed a little. Turning back to the stage, she scooted to the edge of her seat. It was time for the soprano's solo, and if that silly woman ruined the aria they had worked so hard on.
It was without a doubt one of the most difficult things they had ever written, and not just because of the triple-dotted eighth notes and constantly changing meter. Writing the beautiful, haunting song as the Gypsy woman sang to the saints of the church and asked them for sanctuary had been terribly painful, especially to Angelique. The last time she had set foot in a church was the day that her parents had been buried, and writing a song in which the soloist sang about trust and hope was quite difficult.
Most of both of their lives had been so devoid of both elements that for a while they had considered cutting the song completely. But one night, Angelique had awoken in the darkened house with a sudden feeling of terror wrapped around her as tightly as a spider's cocoon. Leaping from her bed, she started down the hall towards Erik's room. Before she even had a chance to get halfway down the hall, he had emerged from his room to see her running down the hall. Not even questioning her fear, he had led her into the study and began playing some soft, relaxing songs on the piano while she read some poetry or scribbled a few lines on the paper.
All of a sudden it had come to her. Ever since she had come to live with Erik, Angelique had been forced to put all her trust in him to keep her safe. From the trust that he inspired came the hope that had been missing in her life since her parents died, and that night she had written the entire aria. As she listened to the soprano's clear, pure voice singing the notes she had so carefully penned, she realized that she still placed all her trust in Erik. And he had never given her any reason not to trust him. Even if it was at a terrible cost to him, he never failed to keep her from harm. Sometimes it seemed as if he were too protective, but now she could see that it was just because he loved her.
Looking over at him, Angelique could see his eyes locked onto the stage from behind the mask. He was so intent on watching the opera that she wondered if he even remembered that she was there with him. Once again, however, Erik proved her wrong by immediately turning his full attention to her.
"Is something wrong? Would you like a drink or a cushion?" As always, he was eager to make her comfortable, and Angelique shook her head.
"No…no, I'm fine. Just…thinking…" Refocusing her attention on the soloist below, she smiled a little. He was always so kind to her, even when she was the most frightful brat. Although how he could possibly love a girl like her was still a complete mystery to Angelique. Then again, most of the things that Erik did were a mystery.
Beside her, Erik couldn't take his eyes from her. Wearing the new dress and shoes he had bought her, she looked spectacular. But even if she had been wearing one of her old, cotton dresses she would have been beautiful. He had offered to buy her some jewels, or let her wear some of the magnificent pieces he had acquired over the years, but she had refused as gently as she always did. Handing him back the diamond-encrusted bracelet, she had told him that she preferred to wear just the bracelet he had given her so many years previous.
Now, as she raised her hand to point out an inaccuracy in the jester's costume, the light from the chandelier glinted off the tiny gold heart that dangled from the chain that circled her slender wrist. When he was a boy, his mother had worn the same bracelet once in a while. It had been given to her by his father, before Erik had even been born. It was a bit strange though, that the bracelet which had once been so close to the hands that had beaten him was still intact and around the wrist of a woman who had never touched him with any intention except kindness and love. Even then, Angelique reached over unconsciously to touch his arm, her face touched with worry. Gently, he patted her hand to comfort her, but didn't say a word. She was still entranced by the opera that was being given down on the stage.
They really had done quite a good job on the costumes. And even those wretched little ballet dancers seemed to be holding their own tonight. Yes, he would most certainly have to send the managers a favorable letter about this performance. Glancing over at Angelique, he saw that her face had lit up with excitement as the soprano's high pianissimo rang through the theatre. A very favorable letter indeed.
* * *
Intermission came, and Angelique took this opportunity to hurry downstairs to the powder room. While she was gone, Erik opened the envelope that was marked for his attention. Carefully inspecting the contents, he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was not his usual twenty thousand francs, but that an extra five thousand was to be found inside the paper folds. Wondering whether this was the work of the illustrious Vicomte de Chagny, he stuffed the envelope into his cloak. Perhaps Angelique would have a nice new cloak. Her tastes weren't as fine as his, but maybe it was time to work on that. Personally, he thought she would look quite lovely in furs.
Most of the patrons had already gone out to get a glass of champagne or use the restroom, and Erik stood up to look over his theatre. It was beautiful. Always had been, since the day he first watched it being built. Even now, years after its construction, the Opera Populaire was like a child to him. Just as he had told Nadir, it was a labor of love, just as his nurturing of Christine's natural talent had been. Now that their opera was finished, what would he put all his energy into now…all his love?
"For heaven's sake! Those people down there are like animals!" Hurrying into Box Five, Angelique looked back worriedly, as if someone might have followed her. "I mentioned to a lady in the powder room that I was Mlle DuBain, and it was like a riot began! People were crowding me, asking for my autograph…I was just lucky that when I started up here they were all too scared to follow me." Although she was complaining, Erik could see just how pleased she was with the success of their opera.
"Did I not tell you that everything would be perfect?" Moving over to where she was, he held out his arms to her. Right away, Angelique hurried to embrace him. The slight weight of her little body hit him full in the chest, and he enfolded her in his arms. "My dear Angelique," he began slowly, trying to figure out what to tell her. "Ever since you came to me in this theatre, I knew there was something special about you. Now, I simply don't know how I could ever even consider living without you."
"Erik dear, I feel the same way." Though she was a great deal shorter than him, Angelique pulled herself onto her tiptoes and kissed Erik's cheek. "I do hope you aren't worried that I'm going to leave you now that the opera is finished."
"Only a bit," he confessed softly. Shaking her head, Angelique reached up to touch his face lovingly.
"You never need worry about that, dearest. As long as I live, we shall never be separated." As she gently stroked his chin, a head popped through the curtain at the back of Box Five. Startled, the couple in the box pulled away from one another, Angelique's face burning a bright pink. It was a moment before they realized it was Mme Giry.
"Forgive me for interrupting," she said, looking back and forth between them. "I was sent to ask Monsieur if he would be willing to speak to the managers for a moment regarding his salary." Her face was pale, and Angelique gave Erik a look as she reached out to grab his arm. Placing his hand onto hers, he met her worried gaze with a smile and started out of the box.
"I shall return momentarily," he said, disappearing into the hallway like a shadow. Mme Giry was left in the box with the younger woman. They regarded one another for a moment before Angelique moved to sit down. It seemed as if the tension would never end, and Mme Giry cleared her throat.
"My dear mademoiselle, I don't know what power you have over him, but it is truly amazing. I can't remember when I've ever known him to be in such good spirits when dealing with the managers." Smiling, the old woman started out of the box. "You must be an angel."
"What did you…" Turning towards the back of the box, she found that Mme Giry had made her getaway just as smoothly as Erik had. Shaking her head, she picked up her programme and turned the pages slowly. It was true, she knew it for a fact that whenever the words 'Firmin,' 'Andre,' or any combination of the two came up in a sentence, Erik immediately slipped into an absolutely vile humor. But tonight he had gone to the office without so much as an ill word. It couldn't possibly just be the fact that their opera was going so well. What on earth did that man have on his mind?
* * *
The second act had already begun by the time Erik made it back from the office, but Angelique didn't worry too much about it. Before too long, the curtains at the back of the box rustled a bit, and a familiar shape settled into the armchair beside her. Smiling, she turned toward him.
"Was something the matter? Why did they want to see you?" Her hushed tones still seemed a bit too loud, and Erik shook his head.
"It seems that someone has seen fit to give me a bit of a raise." Even in the low light, she could see that he was smiling broadly. As he looked at her, Angelique's face lit up in the dark. "Perhaps we could get a kitten. Would you like that, my dear?"
"A kitten! What on earth would we do with a kitten?" Grinning, Angelique reached over to place her hand on his. "Can't we talk about this later?"
"Of course, of course!" Settling back in his chair, Erik looked out over the stage. "I simply thought it a nice idea."
"It's a wonderful idea, Erik. I had no idea you liked animals." Breaking away from the opera that was still unfolding before them, Angelique looked over at him.
"As a matter of fact, I'm quite fond of them." A faraway look came into Erik's eyes, and he looked as if he were trying to remember and forget something at the same time. "When I was a boy, my mother had a little dog…she was my only true friend. Animals, you see, cannot tell the difference between beauty or ugliness. To them, any hand that reaches down in friendship or kindness is completely deserving of all their affection. Sincerest affection, you must understand, not the kind that is there one day and gone the next." His eyes turned back to her, and a smile spread over his face. "But of course, you're right. We shall talk about this later."
"A kitten," Angelique murmured softly. She had never had a pet before, never even mentioned one. What on earth had made him bring up buying a kitten? Before she could ask him anything else, she realized that Erik was fixated on the opera again. Deciding that this discussion could definitely wait until later, she turned back towards the stage. Esmeralda and Phoebus were singing their magnificent duet, and Erik reached over to take her hand once more. He had become so used to her touch that it was almost like a drug to him. A few moments without the precious warmth her hand afforded him, and he was already missing her terribly.
Somehow, she understood this without his having to say a thing, and gently tightened her grip on his fingers. Biting her lip with a smile, they shared a glance before turning their separate attentions back to the opera.
This was one of Erik's favorite things about her when they were together; Angelique was always sneaking little glances at him, whether she thought he could see her or not. It was as if she couldn't get enough of being with him, and to Erik this was a tremendous boost to the ego. And when you were his age, looking the way he did, there were precious few opportunities for his ego to be boosted.
Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, he toyed with the little object he had placed there earlier. It seemed as if there was going to be no right time to give it to her, and talking with those idiotic managers had taken away nearly all of their time at intermission. Wondering how they would react to a few harmless pranks, Erik smiled.
"I know what you're thinking, and it's terrible." Giving him a little nudge, Angelique shook her head. "But if you want to give those insufferable twits a little fright, I certainly wouldn't stop you." A small, impish grin spread over her face, and Erik laughed a bit too loudly. Some of the ballet girls looked pointedly up at Box Five, their little faces frightened and thrilled at the same time. In the front row, MM Firmin and Andre began to look a bit unsettled, but the opera went on as planned.
The third act approached with startling rapidity, and they had both decided that it was probably a good idea to leave the serious tricks for later. Although, of course, the matter of making M Firmin's seat cushion speak to him couldn't really be called a serious trick. But it had given him quite a delightful start when the red velvet lining of the seat began entreating him to take a lighter lunch every once in a while. Still, once the music was over, the managers were most certainly fair game.
Before either of them realized it, the final scene was upon them. The last notes were sung, the final bows taken, and the voices shouting praise from Box Five were more than enough encouragement for even the shyest of chorus girls to take another trip to the front of the stage. The ovations seemed to go on forever, and the shouted requests for an encore echoed long and loud through the rafters. Turning to Erik, Angelique pressed her hands together.
"We're a hit!" Laughing excitedly, she threw her arms around Erik, who was still clapping for the chorus girls. The force of her embrace nearly threw him off balance, and he laughed gently as he put his arms around her.
"It appears that we are at that. Perhaps these people actually do know what they're listening to." Together, they looked over the main theatre as the girls finished bowing. Arms wrapped protectively around her, Erik motioned to the stage. "Look, it appears we're going to have some entertainment."
"Entertainment?" Wondering a bit about what on earth he was talking about, she turned to look at the stage. Messieurs Firmin and Andre had gotten up onto the stage and were smiling broadly over the audience.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," M Andre began with a smile, "We would like to thank you all for coming tonight to see this magnificent opera." He was beaming so greatly that it looked as if his face would crack right in half.
"What exactly is that man on about?" A bit amused, Erik looked a little closer at the stage as M Firmin opened his mouth.
"As you know, we do absolutely everything we can to bring you the finest operas from all over the world, and we hope that you have enjoyed the one we have given you this evening. As a matter of fact, this particular composer was discovered by M Montcharmin and myself quite a few years ago."
"What?" The tone of Angelique's voice was nothing short of disbelief, and the managers continued.
"In fact, we firmly believe that if it weren't for our intervention, she couldn't possibly have been as successful as she is now." As they spoke, Erik sighed deeply. He should have known they would try to take credit for Angelique's great triumph. One look at the expression on her face, and he knew he had to do something.
"Will you excuse me for a moment, my dear?" There was no response from her, and Erik disappeared at once into the pillar. His voice, however, echoed from within the wall. "Keep an eye on the stage, won't you?"
Not sure what he meant, Angelique looked over at the managers. Tears of pure rage were welling up into her eyes, and she swiped at them with clenched fists. How dare they tell the patrons that they had intervened with her? For years, they had run her out of their theatre, been completely rude to her, thrown her music into the bin, and now they wanted to take credit for her? To even assume that she would allow them to take minimal commendation for her and Erik's triumph was beyond ludicrous, and she watched the managers taking bows with thinly veiled hatred.
In the rows and rows of seats below, the patrons were clapping…for the managers? Angelique wanted to cry, she was so angry. Of course the audience would believe the idiots, she and Erik weren't down there to defend themselves. How dare they take her bows? This had been her dream since she was a small child, and…
Before she could get any angrier, there was a loud crash onstage as the huge model of Notre Dame Cathedral fell forward onto the stage, landing just a few feet behind MM Firmin and Andre. Both men looked as if they were going to have heart attacks, and several gasps arose from the crowds of onlookers. M Andre raised his hands in an attempt to calm them down.
"Please, ladies and gentlemen, it was merely an accident. Perhaps the set wasn't properly tied…" Taking a few steps toward the stairs, Andre was stopped in his tracks as one of the sandbags used for ballast fell from the rafters with a thump just a few inches before his feet. "…down," he finished weakly. Erik's signature laughter began to ring through the theatre, causing the patrons to look about nervously and move slowly away from the giant chandelier, just in case history should repeat itself.
"J-just an a-accident…" M Firmin wiped his brow, his voice shaking. A second sandbag fell before his feet, and the managers exchanged glances. Backing away from the fallen weight, M Andre looked around.
"Perhaps…we weren't quite…accurate in our words." His face was already quite pale, and he looked into the rafters. "Some of our facts…" Another sandbag fell heavily, a few millimeters from his toes, causing the wooden floor beneath his feet to tremble a bit. "Quite a few of our facts…" Taking a moment to make sure that another sandbag wasn't going to fall on his head, M Andre paused. "…were erroneous."
While the managers babbled furiously on about their mistake and attempted to give their humblest apologies to thin air, Erik reappeared in Box Five. He was grinning like a madman, and Angelique nearly knocked him over as she leapt into his arms.
"I take it you were amused?"
"It was wonderful! Thank you so much, Erik dear!" Hugging him tightly, she listened to the managers gush about her talent. "Didn't you want any credit? After all, you did write the lyrics."
"Just seeing you smile is credit enough for me. Besides, I get all the acclaim I need and more by being the 'Phantom of the Opera,' as it were." A pleased smile crossed his lips as he heard the managers ask for an ovation in honor of Mademoiselle Angelique DuBain, and he gently pushed her towards the balcony. "Let them see you for a moment. It will make their night."
"Oh, I don't know…" Shaking her head, she tried to resist. "That's really not…"
"Go. They're clapping for you." It was true. Even though they couldn't see her, the people were clapping wildly for her. As she stepped to the front of Box Five to wave to the patrons, they turned to see her and began to clap even harder. Angelique was embarrassed by the attention and didn't exactly know what to do.
"Thank you," she said softly, realizing that no one was able to hear her. "Thank you so much." The clapping continued, even after her figure disappeared from their view. Finally, the applause died down and the patrons left the theatre buzzing about the opera. However, Angelique and Erik remained in Box Five for quite some time, silently appraising the theatre and the performance.
Presently Erik turned to Angelique, who was sitting beside him in the second armchair. She looked as if nothing could possibly make her happier, and Erik cleared his throat a bit too loudly.
"Is something wrong?" Immediately turning to him, she reached over to touch his hand gently. Erik shook his head, smiling.
"Not at all. I was just wondering if you had given any more thought to that kitten I mentioned earlier." Surreptitiously, he reached into his pocket as Angelique nodded.
"Yes. I think it's a wonderful idea. When I was little, I always wanted one but I never could have one. To be honest, I can't think of anything that could possibly make me happier than for us to get a kitten."
"Really?" With a flick of his wrist, Erik produced a small box covered in black velvet out of thin air. "Not even this?" Angelique looked at him, confused, as he placed the box into her hands and closed her fingers around it.
"What is this?" Frowning a little, she turned the box over and over in her hands. Beside her, Erik was practically glowing with pride.
"Open it." He leaned over to her as she opened the little box and got her first glimpse of the contents. Angelique gasped softly as she pressed a hand to her throat. "What do you think?"
"It's…it's a ring?" Unbelieving, she simply stared at the ring that was nestled into the black velvet of the box. "What is this?"
"A simple question." Taking the box from her hand again, he inspected the ring carefully. It was beautiful, a single flawless black pearl in a delicate setting complete with little strands of ivy curled around the base of the jewel. And it was tiny, sized perfectly to fit her finger. A certain finger. "When you said you didn't want to leave me…"
"I meant it with all my heart." Her heart was pounding harder than she ever thought possible, and Erik looked at the ring again.
"Then you wouldn't be…unhappy living with me?"
"I haven't so far, have I?" Gently smiling up at him, Angelique reached over to take his hand. "Why should I start now?" Her eyes were searching his for something, although she wasn't sure what. Erik had never been so nervous in his life.
"Angelique, you know that since the day I saw you sitting in my opera box, in my chair, I knew I had to see you again. And once I saw you again, I had to see you the day after and the day after until I couldn't imagine being separated from you. Now, I still can't imagine it." While he spoke, his eyes kept darting back and forth between her face and the ring in his hand. He could feel her eyes on his face, and pulled his head up so that he could look directly in to her eyes. "My darling, please tell me that you'll never make me have to experience that pain."
"Erik…"
"Please, Angelique…say you'll never leave me. That we shall always be together, just as we are now." Taking her shaking hand in his, Erik noticed once again just how tiny it was compared to his own. "Say that you'll be my wife, and that you will love me always as you love me now."
"Y-your wife?" Thousands of images flooded through her mind, of candles and white satin, roses and music boxes, music and laughter…warm, deep laughter… The images all began to spin into one another, the sound of his laughter standing out above all else. Tears began to fall over her cheeks as she nodded happily. "Of…of course I'll be your wife!" Nearly jumping over her chair, Angelique threw her arms around his neck. A wave of relief washed over him as he felt her warm tears falling onto his exposed cheek.
"My dearest…you don't know just how happy you've made me," he said softly. Angelique nodded slowly as she pulled away from him. Carefully, Erik reached down and brought her hand up to his lips before gently slipping the ring onto her finger. Her hand was shaking like a leaf in autumn as she held her hand out to look at the ring, then got up from her seat. Erik stood up as well, and as she went over to him she reached up to remove his mask. Setting it up on the shelf, Angelique pulled herself up to kiss his lips softly. As they parted slowly, Erik's voice was no more than a whisper. "I love you so much, my angel."
"And I love you, my darling." Gently kissing him again, Angelique smiled hopefully up at him. "We're still getting the kitten, aren't we?"
Once more, Erik's laughter rang through the theatre, but it wasn't the same wild laughter that the managers had become so accustomed to listening for. This was laughter of pure joy, and a few moments later her light laughter mingled with his and created a music that echo through the halls of the Opera Populaire for years and years to come.
The next day, under mysterious circumstances, Messieurs Firmin and Andre announced their joint retirement from the world of the Paris Opera.