Finally! Chapter 2! Thank you everyone who reviewed. Hope you like this chapter as much. This is where Susan Kay comes into it. Don't worry if you haven't read Phantom. It all has to be explained to Christine anyway.
Please R&R!
Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
Chapter 2 – A Marquis and a Man
"They are waiting for you in the drawing room, mademoiselle," The Chagny's old butler as she descended the grand staircase.
"Thank you, St Just," Christine replied, then she said quietly, "where exactly is that?"
The old man smiled kindly. "Just through there, Mademoiselle," he said, gesturing to a door leading out of the hall.
She thanked him again and made her way towards it. She put her hand around the cool metal of the knob and began to turn. She had never met a Marquis before. She had never really been present at a formal dinner before. She drew in breath and swung the door open.
Meg and Madame Giry sat together on a silk brocade upholstered chaise-long by the marble fireplace; Raoul was starring absentmindedly into the flames licking at the logs in the hearth, his blonde hair highlighted by their light and on the twin of the Girys' seat, sat two dark haired men. Christine stepped further into the room, making her presence known.
"Christine!" said Raoul smiling. "May I introduce the Marquis de Bourgélion."
"Mademoiselle," said the Marquis rising. "It is, indeed, a pleasure to meet you at last. I had, of course, seen you," he coughed uncomfortably, "on stage, and been entranced."
Christine smiled timidly at his compliment, conscious of the obvious trepidation he felt when conversing with a common actress.
"Chagny, here, has also spoken very warmly of you. I am pleased to finally meet you."
She noticed he did not mention the scandal. Perhaps it was not so well known as she had feared. Or perhaps he was simply too polite.
Meg was right: the Marquis was handsome. Yet there was something about his appearance she could not like. It was not that his hair or eyes or nose was not to her liking, lord knows she was above that now, but there was something of arrogance in his manner, a patronising quality to his voice. True, she saw no harm in him, but she could not like him.
"This is my friend and protégée, M. Charles Barye," he was saying as he gestured to the second man, who had also stood.
Christine's hand flew to her chest. Her breathing became fast and short. The room whirled around her. She felt herself spinning, falling. Coloured lights flashed, her ears buzzed. She was falling. Falling. She fell.
There you go! Did you like it?
