Epilogue One - I Knew This Place Well

A small burgundy automobile stopped in front of the ruined Opera Populaire.

The chauffeur open the door and a petite woman in deep mourning stepped from the elegant vehicle. She paused for a moment, glancing at the crest on another automobile that waited nearby.

A heavy-set man in a gray checked suit came down the cracked steps to meet her.

"Madame, I am Jean Herbert," he said, tipping his hat, "and you are the Baroness de Castelot-Barbezac?"

"I am," she said, nodding and offering the man her gloved hand. In her other hand, she held an object wrapped in black silk.

Beneath her heavy lace veil, Monsieur Herbert could see that her hair was gold turned to ivory. Fine lines traced the skin around her eyes. However, the Baroness was still an attractive woman and Monsieur Herbert glanced at her with polite admiration as he held open the door for her.

"You see, Madame, we are holding an auction here today. There are things to be sold before the theatre is torn down."

"Yes, I saw the notice in the paper when I arrived in Paris yesterday. However, I have not come here for the sale."

She paused, looking at the small group assembled for the auction. At one end of the stage, she saw a frail man in a wheeled chair, attended by a nun. On the other side, she saw an elderly woman dressed…as she was…in black.

She turned her attention back to Hebert.

"Are you sure, Madame, you will not permit me to escort you through the theatre? This place is a crumbling maze. It may not be safe."

She smiled at the man who now owned and would soon destroy the old Opera House.

"That will not be necessary. I knew this place well. And I will not be long at all."

Meg held up the hem of her black skirt to keep it from snagging on the splintered wood of floor.

She pushed open the door of Box Five, hearing it groan before it gave way.

She had never been in Box Five before. As a girl, it had been a haunted place shunned by even the boldest tarts of the ballet. It had belonged to the Opera Ghost until a certain young Vicomte had the audacity to use it.

She lifted her veil and looked down onto the stage.

A pigeon fluttered up through a shaft of autumn sunlight that shone through the damaged roof as the auctioneer took bids on a music box.

It was a monkey…a whimsical little creature with a turban and cymbals.

As she watched, the woman in black raised her hand to signal her bid. A second later, the invalid nodded to indicate his interest in the same lot.

Beneath a massive tarpaulin, she discerned the outline of the great chandelier.

Turning her back on the auction, she opened the silk pouch and drew out a white mask.

A single tear shimmered on her cheek as she pressed a farewell kiss on the cool white kid features.

She laid it on the ledge of the box.

"Goodbye, Erik."


Author's Note: There will be a second epilogue posted soon.