*Title: The Beat of a Heart (Part Five- I'm coming up (so you'd better get this party started))
*Author: Jania Jitsu
*Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Lurhmann, I suppose. It certainly doesn't belong to me! Although I wouldn't mind an Ewan, if you can spare . . .
*Feedback: jania_jitsu@yahoo.com
I finished this pretty late (like, 2 AM) so forgive me if there are mistakes here and there.
'Whoo . . .' Christian mentally shook himself. 'Come on, Stratton. You can do this. It's just a little party. You've been to lots of these before.'
'But all those other times you weren't trying to forget the love of your life so you could make an innocent girl (who's very angry at you for an unknown reason) fall in love with you so you could cash in on your dead father's estate,' another voice argued.
It sounded really bad when it was put that way, so Christian's first voice crossly told the other voice to shut up.
"Something wrong?" Tom asked in a low voice.
"No, why?"
"You were frowning."
Whoops. "Uh, just a little nervous."
Tom nodded understandingly. "Just be your charming self. Everything will go just right."
"Right," Christian said under his breath. He sat down at one of the round tables that were positioned around the perimeter of the ballroom. The main floor was left open for a little later, when everyone would start dancing.
Christian was dreading the dancing, especially now that he knew that dancing could be so different from the bland, emotionless stuff that went on in polite society. He would have contemplated this a little more, but then he saw the names on the place cards of the seats around his.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "What idiot planned this out?!"
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
Sophia grinned smugly. A little rearranging on her part had put Mr Christian Stratton and Miss Margaret at the same table. Of course, now Mr Christian Stratton was sitting at the same table as Mr Alphonse Stratton. Sophia couldn't remember- had Miss Margaret said that they liked each other?
Sophia put it out of her mind. It probably didn't matter. She had made sure to put Mr Christian Stratton's three friends at the table too, so they would all be in good company.
Sophia put a little sway in her walk as she made her way to the kitchen. There was a very good-looking chef in there tonight with the cutest French accent.
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
"Hello, Miss Lockwood," Christian said with a polite tilt of his head. He stood up to pull out her chair for her. "How are you this fine evening?"
"Well enough, Mr Stratton," she replied, not rudely but certainly not kindly. "I see you're finally getting out. You must be feeling better."
"'Well enough', Miss Lockwood."
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
Alphonse began to fume as one of the doormen led him to his seat. What idiot had put him by Christian?! It would be good for his cause, but one could only take so much idiocy in a day before breaking down into an unintelligible heap.
Alphonse sat down next to Miss Lockwood. On her other side was Christian. He looked around at the place cards to see what other poor fools would be stuck at their table and almost began cursing. Luckily, people come equipped with minds they can retreat into for that and other obscene things.
'It's okay,' Alphonse convinced himself, 'you can handle sitting by Richard Ellison. You can keep control.'
Rick, however . . .
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
After mingling around for a few minutes, Robert, Rick, and Tom were ready to sit down and eat.
Robert saw the problem as soon as they got to their table.
"Tom," he said, fake grin plastered on his face, "be a good sport and switch places with Rick. I need to talk to him for a minute. You understand."
Tom took one look at the arrangements and adopted the same fake attitude. "Sure thing, Robert. Rick?"
Tom and Robert both gave Rick looks that were both pleading and demanding. Rick, taking the all too obvious hints, got up with a wink that was directed at no one in general.
"Ah, I know what this is about," he said slyly as he sat down by Robert.
"Like that wasn't painfully obvious," Robert muttered in Rick's ear. "Jesus Christ, the things I go through for you three."
"Oh, tell me about it. Now we've got to pretend to talk about something important for a few minutes or so."
Robert nodded thoughtfully, already plotting ahead. "And after that, we should probably have a reprise of the whispering every now and then."
"Rob? Why the hell are we planning it out this much? It's not life or death, you know."
Robert sighed and rolled his eyes. "No," he muttered, "it's more than that: it's money."
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
The dinner conversation sounded as forced as it was, when it existed at all. Meg made sure that she looked carefully away from Christian, who tried to strike up conversation with her. Alphonse was the only person she didn't speak to tersely. Alphonse was ultra-polite to Rick, Robert, Tom, and Christian and positively saintly towards Meg, which irritated the four "Knights" because they simply could not figure out what Alphonse was up to.
The dreaded part, of course, was when dinner ended and the dancing began. Right away there were unforeseen problems:
"Miss Lockwood," Christian and Alphonse began at the same time. Alphonse, however, ended with "may I have the honor of the first dance?" while Christian simply said, "would you care for a dance?"
Meg looked from one to the other indecisively.
Robert kicked Christian under the table on the second try (on the first try he got the chair) and gave him a look that conveyed his meaning clearly: let Alphonse have her for now. It's polite, and you're only losing a small battle.
Christian nodded politely to Alphonse and Meg. "If it pleases you, Miss Lockwood," he said as eloquently as he could manage, "let my cousin have the first dance." He gave her a slightly mischievous smile. "Just you save one for me later!"
Meg couldn't answer; she was so taken aback by his sudden caring for her. (Or at least he seemed to care, but she'd never know. Damn that inheritance!) She settled for a quick nod.
Alphonse was seething, though he smiled genteelly as he stood up to take Meg's hand.
"Thank you for the favor, cousin," he said over his shoulder before leading her off. Okay, so it wasn't that great of a favor. But he would turn it into one. Alphonse was good at that.
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
"Damnit," Rick growled, glaring after Alphonse as if that would un-exist him.
"We can fix this," Robert said semi-confidently; a plan or eight already forming in his brain. He readjusted his glasses and tapped his fingers on his forehead. "We just need . . ." he trailed off and stopped the tapping, having obviously come to the revelation that none of his plans would work.
"It'll be all right," Tom said quietly, patting Christian on the shoulder. "You can still get the girl."
Christian said and did nothing. He didn't even bother to say that he still didn't want the girl and that it was all hopeless anyway.
"Right," Robert said, "you'll just have to dance with her next. Be nice, Christian. We all know you're the charming one."
But when the dance was over, a small herd of females (just enough to frighten Christian and get Rick on the hunt) came over and dragged Meg off, presumably to admire each other's dresses and make giggly comments about the other party-goers. The four men stared after them.
"Damnit."
"We can fix this . . ."
Christian, unable to take any more party "fun", got up from the table and walked away. Some kind of friendship instinct kept Robert, Rick, and Tom from following him.
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
Poor Meg was caught in a crowd of girls she hardly recognized. It was making her very confused and slightly dizzy.
"Margaret, darling," Martha kissed her lightly on each cheek, "we haven't seen you in so long! Why don't you write?"
"Ooh," Emily cooed, "what a lovely dress!"
Then Sarah said something, as did Alice and Mary and Florence . . . It seemed that they were all talking at once; their chirpy voices blending into a melody that wasn't harmonious so much as migraine-inducing.
Meg prayed that she would faint and have to be hauled off to a couch in a deserted room. Sure, it would be embarrassing, but it would also be a great escape.
From this thought Meg's mind wandered as Minnie began to dramatically repeat some scandalous piece of gossip, complete with elaborate hand motions.
If Meg were to faint she wouldn't want to just faint. That would never do! She would have to have someone there to catch her so she wouldn't injure herself falling to the floor. But who would be there? Well, only the girls were here now, and that was even worse than just falling to the ground. No, if Meg were going to faint, she would be caught properly- by a handsome young man who would fall madly in love with her, if he already wasn't.
But which young man? Richard Ellison, Robert Birch, and Thomas Riddle were out because they were . . . them. Mr Ellison seemed too vociferous. Mr Birch seemed too conservative. He was much too absorbed in his work. Mr Riddle seemed nice, but she had the same problem with him that she had with the other two: she didn't know him well enough.
Barring them, the only eligible bachelors around that Meg could deal with were Christian and Alphonse.
Meg and Christian had been good friends long ago when they were young, but now there was that whole inheritance thing. Was he truly being nice to her, or was he just trying to win her over for the money? If he were ever to be genuinely interested in her, she would never be able to tell because she would always be wondering about money.
Alphonse and Meg hadn't talked much as children because Meg liked to hang around "Christy", "Tommy", "Bobby", and "Ricky". Now he was very nice, if a little saccharine. As another plus, he knew nothing of the inheritance.
"Margaret, darling, what are you thinking about?" Alice asked with an irritation that snapped Meg back into reality.
"Better yet 'who'," Florence added slyly. "I know that look! Who's the lucky man and does he know it yet?"
Meg pressed her lips together and tried to come up with a good answer to that question. Or a good lie to get around it.
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
A little while later, Meg- having finally escaped the crowd of giggling girls- was looking for a deserted place she might be able to hide in for a while. There were as many people roaming the house as there were on the floor dancing and at the tables eating, so this didn't look too suspect; and she was pretty sure that no one had seen her leave the ball room, so she was safe for now if she could only find a safe room to hide away in.
Unfortunately, the first room she tried was already occupied.
"So are we making a habit out of running into each other in libraries?" Christian asked, an amused little smile on his face.
No matter how sweet and nice Alphonse was, there was just something about him that made him unable to smile like that. It was like the Christian that Meg remembered was back.
Meg couldn't help not being angry with him anymore.
'It's been a while since I first saw you.
It's been a while since I could stand on my own two feet.
It's been a while since I could say I loved myself as well.
'Why must I feel this way?
Just make this go away!
Just one more peaceful day . . .'
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
Alphonse could not find Miss Lockwood anywhere and it was beginning to frustrate him.
She wasn't on the dance floor, or he would have seen her. She wasn't at a table, because it was even easier to distinguish those people. She wasn't lingering around the edges of the dance floor, because he had checked there too.
Politely declining a dance with some good-looking, simpering little belle on the grounds that he simply had to find someone, Alphonse left the ball room. It was the only option: Miss Lockwood had to have gone somewhere else in the house.
As he was looking for Miss Lockwood, Alphonse began to seriously consider finding an evil manservant or something. It was quite a dilemma: having an evil manservant would have made things like this searching for Miss Lockwood business so much easier, but Alphonse had always prided himself on not needing assistance.
Alphonse sighed. He would have to do things the hard way.
It wasn't like this was the most difficult thing he had ever done.
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
They just silently sat- actually, Christian sat in his favorite chair and Meg stood near the door for about a minute, both of them looking as if the had something to say that they simply couldn't, for one reason or another.
Finally, Christian spoke. "You can sit down if you want to. Here- you can even have the good chair." He got up and made a silly little bow that caused Meg to giggle.
Christian was a little in awe as Meg sat down with equally silly daintiness. She didn't seem to be mad at him anymore! When had this happened?! And why was she mad at him in the first place? Had he unconsciously done something to fix it? What?
"So," Meg asked, "why aren't you with all the other party-goers?"
Christian shrugged. "I'm not really in much of a celebrating mood."
"It's the same with me."
"You never seemed like much of a party girl anyway."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't take offense!" Christian said quickly. "You just seem more sensible than that."
"Yes," Meg said thoughtfully, "I suppose I am. After I danced with Alphonse, I got dragged away by all those girls."
Christian made a derisive noise, but Meg ignored it and continued.
"They started talking about dresses and marriages and people and just gossip. I would be lying if I didn't say that some of it was interesting, but most of it was just silly and boring. After about thirty minutes I had to admit that my heart wasn't in it and I left.
"What about you, Christian? When did you leave?"
"When you were dragged off mercilessly by those bloodsucking fiends you call 'girls'. Which somehow reminds me- you still owe me a dance."
Christian flashed Meg a charming smile and she laughed.
"I suppose I do, but I don't want to go back in there!"
Christian grinned mischievously. "Who says we have to? Father has a phonograph in here and I have some music. Granted, it's not a waltz, but I guess we'll just have to make it up as we go."
Meg raised an eyebrow. "Sounds interesting. Start up the music."
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
'Where could she possibly be?' Alphonse wondered. Now he was more than just a little irritated. He was downright livid. Nothing was going as he had planned at all.
And now . . .
"Phonsie, old boy!" a falsely cheerful voice called.
"Richard," Alphonse said in his most chilling voice, "what could you possibly want with me?"
The voice- which usually made people stop, wide-eyed with fear- failed to even wipe the threatening smile off Rick's face. Neither did it stall Tom and Robert. And it certainly didn't stop brawny Rick from pushing Alphonse up against the wall . . . and up in the air about half a foot.
"You've been doing some strange things lately, Alphonse," Robert said, his voice and face unnaturally calm, "and we'd really like to know about them. Come with us peacefully and answer our questions, and we can settle this like gentlemen."
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
Christian gave Meg another happy smile and put on a fairly fast tune. When it first began to play he and Meg didn't really know what to do, but then they just started moving however they felt like moving. Meg quickly got frustrated with her skirts, but managed to work around them.
After only a little while, an idea came to him. He waited for an opportune time in the music and began to sing:
"Don't let me hear you say life's
taking you nowhere," here he tapped her nose, "angel!
Come, get up my baby!
"Look at that sky- life's begun.
Nights are warm and the days are young.
Come, get up my baby!"
He and Meg continued to dance as he made up words that went with a song he must have heard a thousand times to have known it this well.
"There's my baby: lost that's all.
Once, I'm begging you, save her little soul!
Golden years, gold, whop! whop! whop!
Come; get up my baby!
"Last night they loved you,
opening doors and pulling some strings . . . angel.
Come; get up my baby!
In walked luck and you looked in time.
Never look back, walk tall, act fine.
Come; get up my baby!
"Well, I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years.
Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years.
Gold, golden years, gold, whop whop whop
Come; get up my baby!
"Some of these days, and it won't be long,
gonna drive back down where you once belonged
in the back of a [carriage] twenty foot long.
Don't cry my sweet; don't break my heart.
Doing all right, but you gotta get smart.
Wish upon; wish upon, day upon day.
I believe, oh Lord, I believe all the way!
"Come; get up my baby!
Run for the shadows, run for the shadows,
run for the shadows in these golden years . . ."
After this highly spirited dance ended, Christian and Meg collapsed onto the couch, worn out but laughing harder than either of them had in a very long time. It wasn't until much later in the night (after he had bathed, replayed the night over in his head twice, gotten ready for bed, and was laying in bed for five minutes) that Christian realized with a sinking stomach that he had just completely broken his promise to Satine-Lark.
Wait- no he hadn't. He hadn't made that promise to Satine-Lark.
He had made it to Satine herself.
o - }---)---) ~*~ (---(---{ - o
Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You're all so sweet to me. It really makes a person want to write, knowing that people are actually reading what you produce. : ) Sorry this chapter took so long, but the finals were really bitchy to me and I've been busy ever since.
[Loveslyric999, re Toulouse's dad: I didn't know that! That's actually kind of cool. I was just looking for a good name for Christian's cousin. I really wasn't planning on actually using Alphonse at first; I just thought it was a kind of snobby-sounding name. I promise he's not Toulouse's father. : )]
*Notes: Hmm . . . Sophia's part got bigger than I thought it would. The minor characters will be taking over this fic before you know it! (Christian who?!) And Robert, what with his controlling EVERYTHING, is getting to be kind of a Prospero/God figure, isn't he? And, hang me all you want, but I couldn't help the "Fonzie/Phonsie" thing. I've actually been waiting to use it ever since I realized I was actually going to use Alphonse.
*Credit: Title from a good song by Pink. The song Meg sings in her head is a hacked-up "It's Been A While" by Staind. And, of course, the song Christian "makes up" is the fabulous "Golden Years" by David "I am Bizarrely Awesome" Bowie. Where it says "[carriage]" it's actually supposed to say "dream car"