A/N: There is really not much more to say as I continue on with the story, just remember that as far as the Phantom goes, Mr. Butler will most definitely be the actor I use for a base vision as I mold Leroux!Erik, Webber!Erik, and Butler!Erik into one being. If you would like ideas as to who I would picture the others as, please visit my author's page and look in the bio for links. As for others (ie Christine, Raoul) please refer to movie visages. Château d'Esclimont is a real place, and is designed like Versailles. Sorry about the absence of Erik in the next few chapters… after these plot building chapters, you will be inundated with Erik, I promise. I warn you know that I make Christine Sueish in this, but in all forms of Phantom, I picture her to be the biggest Mary Sue in the world. (Phans, please don't flog me) It just goes to show that Sues can be written well.

Thank you reviewers! Your comments are always appreciated.

Words to know:

Oncle- uncle

Chapter 5- The Comte

"Alexandre, please sit still!"

Constance turned her head to the side, gazing out at the lush, green scenery as it passed by their carriage windows, trying to conceal her smile over the current situation. Since early that morning at the train station, Alexandre had been running about, higher than any kite in any sky bright blue sky. The child was so excited to see his uncles and aunts again, and meet his cousins for the first time. He was, fortunately, subdued for a short three hours, the train ride from Paris giving him quite a bit of an upset stomach, but as soon as their trip ended just outside of St. Symphorien-le-chateau, and he was within the small confines of the carriage, he sprang to life. More life than she had ever really seen him, as he fidgeted in his seat and asked a vast array of menial questions about nothing in particular. Joséphine had been so vexed by those questions that she almost called to the coach driver stop so that she could place him in the carriage behind them with his nanny. Olivier, in his usual fashion, stayed out of it and tried not to laugh, though it was in the greatest amount of vain as his wife was sending him dirty looks.

"Papa!" Alexandre shouted, pointing out his window. "There it is!"

Constance glanced out the window he was looking through, and saw the gigantic, blue-roofed château come into view from the tall green trees. It was truly a breathtaking estate with the turrets and watch towers. Even having seen it many times before in her life, each time held a new wonder. Of course, many years had passed since she saw it last, but it was still one of the most stunning pieces of land in France, modeled after the Versailles. The carriage turned down a small pebble-strewn path along the large lake, up to the front of the great mansion. It was hard to see anything from this vantage point now, Joséphine's bonnet blocking her view of the window, but she did not really need to worry about what she could not see in front of the mansion. She knew that the Comte would be outside, with or without his other family members, to greet their arrival.

Soon the carriage lurched to a stop, and Constance was thankful that formalities could be spared in the company of family and out in the middle of the rural countryside. She knew that anyone from the Chagny line would still hold true to their propriety, as it was a rather habit forming thing, but they would still be slightly more lax about it out here in this quiet, pastoral setting. At least she hoped, since this was a vacation, and she received enough discourse on etiquette while in metropolitan Paris.

As quickly as the door was opened, Alexandre was running out and toward the front of the house. He shouted excitedly, "Oncle Philippe!"

There was then the smooth, tenor laugh of the Comte, and one she had known a long time ago. "Welcome, my dear nephew."

"I know how to tie a rope like how you showed me the last time," Alexandre proclaimed proudly, not wasting one moment in his uncle's presence.

"Well then, you'll just have to show that to me later," Philippe said with another small chuckle. "Right now, I think I should welcome your parents."

Olivier moved slowly off of the carriage, stretching his legs and moving stiffly. He stretched his back and then turned to the carriage, offering his hand to Joséphine, "I cannot sit like that for so long anymore."

"You are turning into an old curmudgeon," Joséphine replied.

"You are not far off, my sweet," Olivier shot back with a laugh and helped her out of the carriage. Constance saw the flash of stylish male couture from the side of the door where she imagined that Philippe had just appeared. And her suspicions were correct when she heard the happy talking between brother and sister outside of the coach. She had forgotten how pleasant his voice was when he spoke to a woman, always taking on a certain decorous tone when addressing them. Yes, he had always been one of the favorite gentlemen of the women of France, and she was sure elsewhere, but his dealings with women could not even compare to his much younger brother's series of exploits, according to Olivier.

Olivier, in the meanwhile, reached his hand back inside of the carriage, beckoning her to take it. She had not noticed it until Olivier cleared his throat agitatedly to get her attention… she was thinking too deeply about the Comte. With a soft chuckle of embarrassment at herself, she took his hand carefully, stepped out of the carriage and down onto the pebbled path. Deeply breathing in the fresh air, she looked up at the huge mansion before them. It was a palace all on it's own, and a very lucky acquisition of the de Chagny's not long after Philippe's birth (or so she had heard the whole tedious story from Philippe's father one night while their families shared dinner).

"Constance?!" came the nearly stunned, questioning voice from her side.

She turned to glance at him, letting a small smile cross her lips. Truly, she was glad to see an old friend, if they were not anything more than that before she found William. And she was also glad to note that despite his older years, he had aged like a fine wine, even with his harsh-lined forehead and slight coolness in his eyes of blue-grey.

"Constance," he said again, more tenderly and welcoming, a large smile spreading across his own face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming quite evident. "I had wondered who the extra room was for."

"I was quite surprised by it all, as well," she replied. "My brother and his wife seem to like to keep secrets."

He chuckled and took two long strides to stand before her. As he passed, she could not help but notice the pleased, scheming looks on both Olivier's and Joséphine's faces; she knew that even though they had been thinking with the utmost care for her inviting her on this holiday to relieve her from her worries, they had always had a slightly ulterior motive- and that was to see if there was anything possible between her and the Comte. Philippe picked up her hand and bent over it, kissing the back of her fingers ever so lightly and then righting himself to look down at her. She had forgotten how tall he was.

"I was deeply saddened by the news of your husband, Constance," he said quietly. "I knew you loved him greatly."

"I did," she replied sadly, but she forced a smile to her lips, "but a few years have passed and I my heart is mending, and I am overjoyed to be here and to see you again, Monsieur le Comte."

Philippe grinned at her, "And you have absolutely no idea how happy I am to have you here. I thought I would be the only one present without someone on my arm."

"I am afraid you are without a lady to make blush on your arm, Philippe," she remarked. He gave her a quizzical look. She chuckled, "I fear that I already gave my card to the dashing Alexandre."

He raised a curious brow, and glanced back at the child who was now regaling a man she could not quite place, but held the obvious characteristics of a Chagny… handsome, impeccably dressed at the highest point of fashion, complete with sandy blonde hair and fair complexion. "I think even he will understand at his young age that a man must have his priorities, and his are certainly not women. I believe he will easily let me take your arm instead."

"You are cheekier than I recall, good Comte," she replied with another laugh.

"Your brother, on the other hand," he then said, and glanced back at Olivier and Joséphine with a sheepish smile, who were trying their best to hide their looks of delight that bringing them together was working so well.

Constance sighed disappointedly. She did not come on this holiday for being matched up with a man… it was the absolute last thing she desired at the moment, and she could only hope that they were not too pressing on the matter. Truthfully she would not mind in the future bringing the subject of marriage up if that was the only route left open to her, but he would only be a friend and nothing more even in that future setting (at least that was what she thought then). "I do not think he would mind in the least."

"You were not there when we were younger, Constance. He was so protective of you," Philippe replied. "But I am not doing my duties as your host. Shall I introduce you to the man you looked so strangely at just a moment ago?"

He offered his arm to her, and she took it politely, walking up the many steps to the huge wooden front doors. She could nearly hear Olivier and Joséphine talking merrily behind them, but she pushed that out of her mind. She was mistress of her fate right at the moment, and she knew that Olivier would not force her into anything she did not want, but would force her out of something she did want if he thought it inherently unsavory for her.

Philippe paused in front of the young man, who could not have been over twenty. There seemed to be a certain amount of age in his eyes, however, as though he had lived through something quite stressful that had taught him many things. While in the back of her mind she knew this was Raoul, she could not get over the fact that he had grown so much from his more impetuous days at the ripe old age of thirteen, running away from his governess to rescue a scarf from the sea. The Comte smiled proudly, "Constance, my brother Raoul. And, I am sure you recall Constance de Louvois from so long ago."

The young Chagny smiled and nodded his head politely, "How could I forget, Philippe? I was jealous of you."

Constance chuckled lightly, "Yes, he is a Chagny."

"Through and through," Philippe replied.

She smiled brightly and glanced back at Raoul, "I hear good news that the Vicomte is recently wed?"

Raoul then nodded, a look of happiness, mixed with a bit of painful memory in his clear blue eyes. "You have heard correct, Madame. She would be here to greet you, but she is, unfortunately, detained in the nursery with our daughter."

"You have been busy in the year since your marriage," she replied, without thinking, and noticed the look of shock on Raoul's face followed by a slight blush.

The Comte only laughed from beside her, "Raoul, you forget that Olivier and his sister both do not disguise their wording so it becomes such a riddle you cannot figure it out. But, yes, Constance, he has been busy. And as you said, he is a Chagny."

Constance nodded her head, glancing at Philippe. She truly had not remembered him being this lax in his distribution of off-color remarks. She turned back to look at Raoul then, but she noticed the movement coming down the huge staircase from inside the equally large receiving hall. Soon the movement metastasized into a beautiful young woman, curly, rich brown hair pinned up intricately on her head with porcelain skin and dressed immaculately in a rather cheery, dress of powder blue. It was obvious her body was still recovering from the shock of birthing, but her figure was close to it's normal shape again. She was the picture of beauty as she seemed to float down the steps and across the marbled front entrance to the door. Her posture was faultless, and Constance instantly pegged her as a performer of some sort, and with the economy for movement in which she moved, Constance guessed her to be a dancer.

Well, she could certainly see why Philippe was not thrilled when the marriage happened between her and Raoul if she was a dancer.

Raoul turned to glance at the approaching person, having heard the soft click of the woman's low heels on the ground. A rather large smile lit his face, and he placed his hand on the woman's waist, pulling her into the doorway. Constance smiled at her, and the woman ran her rather innocent doe eyes over her face before smiling. It was almost as though she were trying to discern if her visitor was friend or foe just by the look of her face. While that put Constance off quite a bit, she decided to think the best of this woman for now.

The Vicomte smiled, "May I present to you, Marchioness, my wife, Christine."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame la Vicomtess," Constance said.

Then the woman's face ignited into a bright smile (it was truly heart rendering, even for her), and she said in a soft, smooth voice that had obviously been a product of years of voice training, "The pleasure is all mine, Marchioness. Shall I call you Marchioness?"

"No, please do not!" Constance exclaimed emphatically. "Constance will do."

Christine nodded, "Then Constance it is."

The sound of the thunderous pounding of small feet on the floor interrupted the conversation then, and Alexandre went running by with two other boys with blonde hair, slightly older than himself. Philippe answered her question for her, without needed her to actually speak the words. "Those would be my sister, Thérèse's, twins. She and her husband are still settling in from their trip here."

Constance nodded and smiled, "I see."

"Which I should probably allow all of you Parisians to do now," Philippe added. "And once you are settled, we will meet for a brunch before we men head out hunting."

With that, they were shown about to their rooms, but only after the happy welcoming of Joséphine and Olivier by Raoul and Christine.

It had been a pleasant meal, everyone speaking politely and meshing well despite being apart from each other for so long. The food was delicious, the company good. It seemed that nothing would overshadow this short holiday to the countryside… that was, of course, up until the moment of Olivier's newest business venture was mentioned. Philippe had taken a sip from his cup of tea, and looked down the table at Olivier, in his usually haughty way. Constance knew almost instantly that conversation would now turn to business and the world, in a sort of way to excuse the women from the table so the men could go off for their short afternoon hunting trip.

"So, Olivier, the last I heard, you had a large property acquisition in the works," Philippe said.

Constance glanced at Olivier, wondering what he would say, especially after what he and Joséphine had been talking about the evening before in the parlor of Christine and the Opera Populaire. As she suspected, he shifted uneasily in his seat, and sighed, "We should not talk about business here at the table, Philippe. It would not concern the ladies here that much. Shall we wait till later?"

Philippe raised a questioning brow and guffawed at Olivier, "Since when does Olivier de Louvois hold so strictly to his manners? Come, tell us what you are working on."

Olivier exchanged quick, reluctant glances with Joséphine then, before looking back at Philippe. Constance paused and waited for the truth, and to see the reactions on their faces, to try to gain some knowledge as to what could have possibly happened to Christine at the Opera. Her brother sighed, knowing it was inevitable, "The Duchy de Louvois acquired a rather lucrative piece of property in the center of Paris…"

"Do not stall, Olivier," Philippe warned, slowly taking on an austere presence, obviously angry that Olivier was trying to side step the truth so blatantly. Both her brother and Philippe had known each other, and been very good friends for most of their lives. To do something like this was considered a large slight on Olivier's part when they had relied on each other for so long for sound business and real life advice. Constance glanced around at the table of people, now all looking expectantly at her brother. For an instant she felt bad for Olivier having such scrutiny on him, but she realized he deserved it if he intended to keep the Opera Populaire quiet when it supposedly held such a sour note for these people.

"I purchased the Opera Populaire from Messieurs André and Firmin," Olivier said, taking a shallow breath and holding it, waiting for some reaction to pass through the room. As the comment registered in everyone's respective minds, Constance glanced about, noting that the greatest looks of shock, and (somewhat) of anger, were on the faces of Raoul and Philippe. Christine held an expression as well, but it was one of regret and memory of a time past that was clearly painful for her to remember. Thérèse and her husband only remained quiet and glanced quickly between their host and Olivier, trying to decide if they should make a quick escape or try to smother an argument before it began.

Philippe, no longer in the cheerful disposition of a host, fell fully into an angered state. "The Opera, you say?"

She wondered then if there was supposedly some unspoken agreement between them that neither of the families would ever take part in the Opera again, after the tragedy that had occurred a few years ago. But this, she still did not understand. What had happened with Christine, that clearly involved the Chagny's?

"Will you run it as Patron, or as manager?" the Comte then asked.

Olivier glanced at the table, then back between the Comte and Vicomte, "I shall take part in it as a Patron."

"Then who is to be your manager?" Philippe questioned, narrowing his eyes. "Surely no one would want the task after all that has happened there."

Rather than let Olivier continue, she decided to answer for her brother, "He asked me to coordinate it now that I am back in France without a household to run."

All eyes shifted to her then, and she did not know how she should take the expressions now on her. Philippe's eyes softened as he gazed upon her, almost as though he were sorry that she was placed in such a position, and worried for her wellbeing. He said, while still looking at her, "Your brother did not speak to you about the Chagny's involvement in the disaster, did he?"

"No, he did not," Constance said. What could have possibly happened that caused such a disruption as this?

Philippe stood from his chair and let out a low sigh, glancing about the room. "Gentlemen, may I please see you in the parlor?"

Without any other words, all the men at the table stood and prepared to leave, though Thérèse's husband seemed to have no claim in the discussion that was obviously about to ensue. As the men left the room, Joséphine showed her discomfort by looking down at the table and shaking her head. Silence passed between all of them, until Constance moved her eyes over to Christine whom had become considerably distant in the past few moments.

"I am sorry Christine," Joséphine said quietly.

Christine sighed, "Please do not say that. That is over with now… it was over with nearly two years ago. All of it is only shocking that the Opera is suddenly thrust into the family again."

"And Constance, I am equally as sorry for not having Olivier tell you the entire story," Joséphine added.

"I still do not know what happened to cause a reaction like this. I am completely lost," Constance mentioned and glanced at her sister in law, from the corner of her eyes. Of course, she was not totally lost. She heard the stories from the people she had hired to work in the theatre, and also from her short correspondence with the Opera Ghost himself.

But they interrupted by an angry exclamation from the parlor. Raoul said, "You cannot let her stay there… not with that thing there!"

"Calm down, Raoul," Olivier said quietly, though his voice was still audible in the dining room. "There is no evidence that what haunted you and Christine is still there."

"Olivier… still… I cannot believe you placed Constance in that possible danger," Philippe said.

"That thing is not there… you may come to Paris to see for yourself," Olivier suggested.

"I trust you," Philippe said. "I only worry about Constance."

Olivier chuckled, "You are not the only one who worries for her, Philippe, do not forget that."

"I will not," said the Comte. "Come, let us leave for the hunt. We will discuss this some more where female ears cannot hear."

Constance rolled her eyes and sighed. Naturally they would leave like that, because they (the women) could not hear, or possibly understand the sordid details of the continuing discussion. She glance back at the women around her, and began to say something, but a piercing scream from the next level of the house alerted them to the fact that Christine's daughter was now awake and needing her mother.