This morning was marginally more tolerable than yesterday. Yet I was still warm. If only I had something cold…

Then I recalled that there was ice at the opera house. For we had some there to serve chilled wine and champagne to guests during intermission. All I wanted was a small cup full. Just enough to take a cold rinse with.

As I started to rise, Erik stirred beside me, placing an arm across me as he nuzzled his face into my shoulder.

He would be so cross with me if I left. But wasn't he cross with me more often than not anyway?

And besides, I would simply sneak over there, get the ice and come back. He would not even notice I had left as asleep as he was.

And I still had my keys to the dormitory. Erik had not taken them from me much to my surprise. He must have grown tired and made a mistake for once.

Gingerly, I moved his arm from my body and rose up.

I slipped into a simple floral gingham which was suitable for the weather and pulled my hair back into a bun.

Softly, I locked the door behind me. And I grinned with anticipation at the thought of my ice.

It was still too early for anyone to be up and about so I was not worried about being noticed.

I crossed the street, entered the theater and made my way to the small storeroom where the ice was kept.

To my dismay, there was a bucket there but all of the ice had melted. Damn! Still, I splashed the cold water on my face and nearly swooned from the relief.

"Angelica!"

I screamed out from surprise at the voice.

Turning, I saw Brett Watling at the entranceway of the storeroom.

"Oh, thank God you are alright!" he reached for me and gave me a big hug. "I was so worried!"

"I should think you would be…after what you've done," I replied coldly, pulling from his arms. "Really, Brett, how could you have done such a thing to me! Erik and I are not at all like Rhett and Scarlett Butler! I know you had good intentions, but…"

"Do not scold me, please! I was so sure that I had been responsible for your death with my interfering!"

"Well, as you see, I am still very much alive."

"Yes, and you look better than ever actually. You're practically glowing."

I was?

"Come. Let's retire to your office." Brett took my arm as he escorted me down the hall. "When I told Erik of your whereabouts, I thought he would arrange a meeting with you, maybe talk with you over dinner, but…I hardly expected him to abduct you right there from the opera house."

"Well, delicacy was never Erik's strong suit."

"I told all of the people at the opera that you were still recovering from your fainting spell, but I was just praying that you were not hurt. So how did things progress?"

"We are married now."

Brett looked confused.

"I thought you were already married."

"Oh," I stammered. "Well, let us say that we were engaged, more or less…but last night, we married for real."

Brett's face beamed with a smile.

"Angelica, that is marvelous!" But when he saw my lack of enthusiasm, his grin faltered. "Isn't it?"

"Not really," I admitted. "Erik forced me into the marriage, and he is still furious with me. He is angry because I believed him responsible of all the crimes that night when most of it was the doings of Firmin and Madame Giry. And I still can't forgive him for Christine, although I have yet to get up the nerve to speak to him about her."

"He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"No."

"Yet I expect he has…asserted his husbandly rights?"

"Well, yes, but …oh, I can't talk about this to you! It's so embarrassing!"

"Do not forget that I'm a son of a whore, Angelica," Brett said. "I don't think that there's anything you can say that would shock me."

"Well, as for the intimate nature of our marriage, we are very well suited for each other that way. We always have been. But I am afraid that is all we have left now. And it wasn't always like that…back in the days when I first knew Erik, we wrote our opera and played card games and read together in the library. We had been companions to each other and I miss that side of him. He was more than just a lover. He was a friend to me. Rather how my father used to be with me before he turned to drink. That companion was very dear to me. And I miss my friend so much…"

As I expressed my thoughts, my eyes stung with grief at just how much we had lost.

"Can you not tell Erik you feel that way?"

"Oh, but he was so hateful to me, Brett…He blamed me for so much that was not my fault…and I have never known him to be so cold and horrible…"

Sitting down in my chair, I began to sob from the stress of the last two days.

"For a woman brilliant enough to write the lyrics to an opera and to run a theater, you can be incredibly dense, Angelica," Brett quipped.

"Thank you," I snapped between sobs. "Thank you so much. It is so nice to have a friend that one can count on."

"Why don't you just tell the poor bastard how you feel about him…that you love him?"

I was taken aback by his bluntness.

"It's not that easy."

"Why isn't it?"

"If I were to do that, if I were to give him that much power over me…I don't know…"

"How could he have any more power over you than he already has, Angelica? Don't forget who you're speaking with. I've seen you sobbing in hysteria and raving his name in your sleep. I've seen you throw tantrums at the very mention of his name. Would confessing your love to him make you any more vulnerable to him than you already are? Perhaps it would heal your wounds…and his."

"I don't know if it would do any good."

"You'll never know unless you try. And I think it would be better to do it now while you are newly married than later. I still think that the man does not know any better because of the sort of life he has led. He is angry and lashing out at you because he is like a hurt animal. I am sure that he must realize how you were misled by the actions of Firmin. But how many times do you think he has ever been in a situation where he has had to forgive anyone for a mistake? You could probably count the times on one hand."

"But what about that night with Christine?"

"He didn't marry Christine, did he? He did not travel all of the way to Georgia for Christine, did he?"

"No. Only because he must know that she is out of his life forever now. And he's here because he had to leave Paris and go somewhere else with such a price on his head. And because I have interfered that night, he is determined to keep me as his wife and make me suffer."

"Well, that is to your advantage, isn't it? Isn't he right where you want him? Married to you and in your bed? You should forget about that night with Christine, Angelica. That was all in the past. If it had meant anything, he would not be here with you. Tell him you love him!"

"But…"

"Tell him!"

I shook my head.

"Tell him, Angelica, before it's too late for both of you! You tell him!"

Brett escorted me out of the office.

"Now I am to meet Ella soon and cannot remain here for much longer. Go home and tell him now!"

"Alright, but I'm not leaving without my ice bucket, damn it!"


On my way home, lugging the bucket of cold water along with me, I thought on Brett's words.

Erik was not simple like Ella Kennedy. I imagined that if Brett confessed love to Ella, she would melt into his arms and be his loving wife forever if he wished it. But with Erik, I never knew if I was going to be kissed or trod upon.

And I was so afraid. Afraid of hearing him say that he could only love one other woman for the rest of his days. That I was a wife to him, but I should never have his heart.

And could I ever forgive him for that night with Christine? Brett was right. Christine was far away in Paris with child. She was no longer an interference. But what had happened? Had they made love for the first and only time? Had she rejected him for Raoul yet again? I knew that I would know no piece of mind until I brought the subject up with Erik. And yet I was afraid of that too.

As I opened the door to my room, Erik was awake and glowering at me.

"I should have known that I could not let my guard down around you! So I suppose you've sent for the police?"

I sighed with frustration. That was what Brett did not understand. How could I talk of love with Erik when he was constantly so difficult?