Author's Note: Another hearty thank you to all reviewers. I have to had to restrain myself from responding to some of you as I do not want to give away anything in the upcoming chapters. Enjoy.
For several days, we did not communicate with each other, but merely co-existed. I spent countless hours in my bedroom (or should I say Christine's bedroom!), mulling over the situation. The thought of seeing Erik regress back to stalking Christine again was driving me mad. Using our opera to do it! And being trapped like a prisoner in this hideaway, there seemed to be nothing I could do.
Yet I was determined to take action. I had to stop Beauty and the Beast from becoming another sick spectacle. If I could only get to Mssrs. Andre and Firmin and convince them that they were making a serious mistake by casting Christine!
But how would I get there when I had no idea where the hell I even was?
I devised a plan. It was a risk, yet I had no choice.
Once the clock struck at six o'clock that evening, I doused my face with water as hot as I could stand it and frantically ran out of my room, searching for Erik.
He was sitting in the library, just staring into space, probably sulking.
"Erik!" I cried out, eyes widened with fear. "Erik! I fear I am ill, very ill...do I feel feverish to you?"
As Erik hurriedly rushed to my side and touched my forehead, his face paled with concern.
"Good Lord, Angelica, you're burning up and perspiring all over! Oh, my dear!"
"Oh...I feel so faint!...and dizzy!...and..." I collapsed into a fake faint on the floor, trying not to scream in pain as my arm bashed into the side of a nearby table.
"Oh, my God, Angelica!"
I kept my body limp as Erik picked me up off of the floor and held me in his arms. Quickly, he raced with me out to the carriage house. I could feel the cool night air against my skin.
"The infirmary, Erik..." I rasped. "Please...the infirmary..."
"Yes, my child, of course! Just give me a moment or two..."
After having distributed me into the carriage, he returned back to the house to don his coachman disguise. I took advantage of the time alone to peek outside of the coach windows. The house of which I'd been staying in for months was shrouded with trees all around it, almost hidden. There seemed to be a bit of forest yonder beyond what appeared to be Mephistofeles' stable.
At the sound of running footsteps, I collapsed back down onto the seat.
We rushed to Paris as fast as we could. Erik had been so upset that he had forgotten my blindfold. Surreptitiously, I would occasionally rise up and look out the window to discern where we were. Unfortunately, however, nothing looked very familiar to me. We were just on a deserted country road.
Everything was going according to plan as the infirmary was very near the Paris Opera House! And the managers would most certainly be in their office counting the box office money after eight o'clock.
"Let me carry you inside, my dear!" Erik started to lift me.
"No!" I pleaded. "It's too risky! You'll be found out!"
"Let me worry about that..."
"No! Erik, there still may be orders for the police to shoot to kill! What would I do if you were hurt or worse?"
"Very well, darling…very well… please don't distress yourself…if you're sure you will be all right…"
"I will certainly feel better knowing that you're safe. Come back for me in an hour. I will try to meet you back here if I can."
"Of course. At least let me get you to the front door."
I agreed, leaning on his arm, moaning with my eyes half-closed as if I were about to pass out any minute.
In a flash, he was gone.
I peeked out of the front window, waiting to see his carriage disappear out of sight.
A nurse hurriedly bustled up to me. "Madame, you look horribly ill. Allow me to fetch you a doctor!"
"Oh, no," I smiled, patting off my 'sweat' with a handkerchief. "I'm quite well, thank you."
"Mademoiselle DuBois, we are honored!" Monsieur Andre greeted me in his office, kissing my gloved hand. "Your opera is so unique and beautiful! I have never seen anything quite like it. And with the return of the Viscountess to the stage, this will undoubtedly become a great masterpiece!"
I curtsied, while observing how different this manager was from the other one. Monsieur Andre appeared quite debonair and charming with perfectly styled grey hair and a neat moustache, immaculately dressed. While Monsieur Firmin had seemed rather like a nervous little rat when I had delivered the script earlier. I was actually relieved that I would be conducting this particular business with Monsieur Andre.
"Thank you for your kind words, Monsieur, but, as a matter of fact, the Viscountess is my reason for being here."
"Indeed?"
"Quite," I stated, deciding there was no reason to procrastinate. "If you will pardon my interference, I must confess to you that I think she would be gravely wrong for Beauty and the Beast."
The manager goggled at me as if I had lost my mind. After a few moments, he recuperated from his shock.
"But, Mademoiselle, see reason! This will be a virtual windfall of money for all of us. Since that blasted Phantom scandal, Christine Daae...I mean, Christine de Chagny has never been more popular. For her to come out of retirement for this new opera…why, we may have packed houses during the entire run!"
While I was still determined to have my way, the starving artist in me reared her materialistic little head. That kind of fortune would certainly help me with my dire finances. And my mouth salivated as I thought of the kind of gowns that I could buy with that amount of money.
"Do you really think so?"
"Oh, without question! I was terrified that we would be ruined after all of the chaos and panic from that last incident. But in actuality, business has never been better! Sex and violence always sells, Mademoiselle. Take my word on it! All everyone wants to know is where is the Phantom? Where is Christine? Now granted, who knows where that depraved monster is, but to have Christine appear...why, all of the opera world has been clamoring for her! Mademoiselle, you must be so sheltered away with your writing that you have not seen how all of Paris is an uproar about this business. Why, people are writing novels and plays about the Horrid Affair of the Phantom of the Opera! Who would have dreamed that nuisance of a creature would put us in the history books!"
Were people really writing books about Erik?
"Nevertheless…" I persisted. "That is exactly my point. I don't think that all of this notoriety is good for the opera as a whole. We would be so much better off with an unknown in the part."
Before he could discourage me, I continued to make my point.
"Think on it, Monsieur. Why, after the Phantom's opera...well, to put Christine in the role of Beauty would be a..." I tried to call Erik's words. Oh, yes. "a...a sick joke! No one would be able to take the story seriously. They will all be comparing Beauty and the Beast to the Phantom of the Opera and Christine."
"You may be an artist, Mademoiselle, but you have no head for business," he lectured, haughtily. "You are asking me to turn a potential smash hit into a failure by removing Christine. And I refuse to do so, you and your mysterious partner be damned!"
I began to argue the point when we interrupted by a silken voice accompanied by the scent of gardenias.
"Perhaps I should speak with our talented author, Andre."
I whirled around.
In the doorway of the management office stood the Viscountess de Chagny, otherwise known as Christine Daae.
