A/N: As always, my readers and reviewers are what keep me going. Sorry about the long absence last time! I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter muchly.
And as a sidenote, I was rereading Leroux last night and realized for the first time what an incredible fangirl Erik is.
"While I was at her feet...I heard her say, Poor, unhappy Erik!' ... AND SHE TOOK MY HAND!...I had become no more, you know, than a poor dog ready to die for her...I mean it, daroga!..." Leroux, Chapter XXVI The End of the Ghost's Love Story
I love Leroux.
Enjoy the chapter and hopefully I'll update soon!
Chapter 5My sleep proved fitful and fidgety that night. I slept in short bursts, waking frequently and watching always as the first tendrils of gray light heaved themselves through the fragile panes of my windows. The day would dawn fine and frosty, thoroughly blanched after the storm of the night before. Earlier, I had wished to go out and enjoy the landscape, yet now all I could think about was floundering about in my bed for the rest of the day.
I knew, however, that the prognosis for my condition was not favorable. Whether I stayed and wallowed or made an attempt to present my face to the others, I knew that my spirits would remain in the mud. On top of that, even if I faked a cheery attitude, I could lose control at any moment. I feared I would see Erik, and even if it were only a glimpse, it would be enough to set me off. True, the chances of another such meeting were small, as I knew he normally hated the daylight hours.
Then again, nothing about this had been normal so far. My life was falling apart into shards that were rapidly being sucked into quicksand, never to be recovered.
A thousand questions still afflicted my mind, all of which befuddled me. For the life of me, I still could not understand what had prompted Erik to be here, and nor did I comprehend why exactly he was tied to such an impudent child as Lucien. On top of everything, I had just realized that Lucien had only returned one of my stolen valuables to me. He had flung my wedding ring at Erik without its companion and I could not even divine whether I was furious or dejected.
I flung my arms over my head and pressed a pillow to my face. I wished my door had a lock that only I could open, for I knew that in all likelihood a maid would presently emerge to wake me. It could not have been more than several hours after sunrise, but already I heard the telltale buzz that always surrounded a waking household as it set about its business for the day.
What if Erik were passing by my room right now? What if my every step in England followed his own traces? It seemed that there was nowhere in the world that I could go to where he had not already been; where he had not already left the imprint of his existence.
How could he have been so cruel last night? How could he have spoken those words to me after all that we had been through? Once he would have done anything for me! Now, it seemed as if I were as inconsequential as a speck of dust upon a curtain.
Could I have truly driven him to this? Yet, none of it fit. He had been distant but also kind the night of Antissa! Why this sudden change in temper? Why this undeserved pain? Truly, my existence was a malediction upon even myself. I began to pray for death right here in the creamy white of the coverlets. I could face the judgment of God, but for the life of me I could not find it in me to face Erik's malicious hatred ever again.
God will not accept you…Then I would indulge in a merry trill with the Devil if I so had to! Perhaps I would find Erik there as well and we would dance away our hatred in Hades with Persephone and her stony king!
"Ma'am?"
"Am I dead yet?" I mumbled in reply to the sudden voice at my side.
"Uh…no, ma'am." The voice had a decided British lilt, obviously confused at the moment.
I blinked sleepily, retracting the pillow from my face. A petite girl bobbed at the foot of my bed, her youthful form fitted out in a maid's uniform. She seemed at most fifteen years old, her blue eyes large with the sparkle of youth, and her expression one of childlike curiosity.
"Who are you?" I asked dumbly.
"The…the maid, ma'am," she bubbled nervously, clearly under the impression that I was not one in complete possession of my mental faculties.
I sighed; perhaps I was not. I attempted to bestow a kind look as I slipped out of bed, "I suppose I am to be summoned to breakfast?"
"Yes, ma'am. Would you like to dress now?" It was more of a rhetorical question than a direct inquiry, for evidently she expected me to give her a nod of acquiescence.
I allowed her to help me into a corset and then I dismissed her. "I can do the rest myself, thank you. You may go now."
Her eyes widened, but like any well-behaved servant, she merely executed a curtsey and left the room.
Right now, the last thing I needed was a maid hanging on to my every move and stabbing my scalp with hairpins. I had had a horrid night, next to no sleep, and it would do me some good to spend some more time on my own before I had to face the inevitable horror that would be breakfast. Everyone else would be in jovial moods, I knew, and I would have to pretend I felt the same way.
I settled for a heavy gown of gray wool, the skirt elegantly stitched with silver thread that formed a floral pattern. After I buttoned myself into the warm garment, I swept up my hair into severe plaits and pinned them up at the base of my neck. I looked decidedly stern now with a cold expression to match my misery, and so I spent several minutes practicing false smiles before the mirror.
When I was finally satisfied, I rose and carried myself to the door. There I paused, one hand still on the doorknob. My wedding ring glittered ominously in the winter sunlight, its presence obvious and mocking. I had replaced it on my finger the night before, but now it looked as if it no longer belonged on my hand. It contrasted sharply with my dull mood, for now I felt an unpleasant numb feeling beginning to overtake all my senses. It was as if I had no more room for emotion, which was probably a lovely development in the long run; it would not do to break down once again before Madame Penous and her ladies.
As soon as I stepped outside my room, I realized that I had to idea where to go. I was forced to halt and ask directions of a maid as she scurried by. Instead, she merely indicated that I follow her, and soon she showed me into a large dining room on the first level of the mansion.
To my great relief, Erik was not there. In truth, the chances had been small, but by this point I had learned to expect the impossible.
Everyone else was already seated by the time I arrived. Adelle waved me over to an empty seat that she had been saving, and I gratefully sank down beside her. Instantly, a maid bustled up to me and inquired if I desired a cup of tea. I nodded and reached for a croissant, biting into it thoughtfully.
At the head of the table sat an elderly man that could only be Lord Barlow. His lady sat at the other end, engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with Madame Penous who sat across from her. Beside Lady Barlow was a well-dressed young boy, not yet a teenager. His clothes were impeccably pressed and his face utterly clean, yet clearly fatigued. I started when I realized it was Lucien, for I had never before seen him dirt free. Obviously the boy had gotten no sleep the night before, and now it was all he could do to keep the yawns from his mouth.
Adelle elbowed me, "Isn't this wonderful, Christine? This part of England is simply beautiful!"
I offered a small nod, "Yes, quite. I am eager to see more of it."
"Don't worry!" Adelle buttered a roll, "Lady Barlow is to show us the grounds after breakfast; everything is always superb after a snowfall!"
"I can't wait," I answered flatly. Adelle, however, seemed not to notice. Instead, she began to speak with a young man at her elbow who had attracted her attention with a polite inquiry. Much to my displeasure, Karine Renois sat to my left, stoic in her silence. She appeared to be deep in thought about something, imparting no information from her expression.
I noticed that Lucien kept shooting me hateful looks from the other end of the table. My mood was spoiled enough already and so I chose to ignore them. I would deal with the child's hatred later on; it was Erik's loathing that I could not accept.
No, I would never acknowledge the fact that he despised me. He had once sung and seduced me in my dreams with a voice that even an angel would be blessed to possess. His gift had been such almost as if God had been trying to compensate for everything else that He had taken from Erik. Once, Erik's voice had been for me and for me alone; now I feared that I would never hear it again.
He could have been a great man, I reflected despondently. If only he had not been cursed with a hideous blemish upon his face that had incited people to spurn him. I believed that if only his mother had shown him love, then he would have been able to face the world despite everything. Nadir had told me that Erik could survive in a society with people, if he wished to do so. Had he not performed in public at traveling fairs? Had he not indulged the khanum with lavish displays in the Persian court?
"Christine, you've been staring at that croissant for a good five minutes now." Adelle peered at me inquisitively as she munched on her oatmeal. "Are you sure you're recovered after your illness last night?"
My tone was false to my ears, but still I hoped Adelle would accept my reassurances that I was perfectly fine. "I'm just tired," I added in the end, hiding a yawn behind my hand.
She nodded, turning sparkling eyes toward the end of the table where Lady Barlow sat. "My, isn't that the most charming boy you've ever laid eyes on?" She put her hands together at her cheek and squealed, "He looks cuter than a teddy!"
I tried not to feel ill. I despised it when people went about cooing over idiotic children. Half the time the little brats did not even deserve to be worshipped, yet adored they were among females such as Adelle. Lucien was a prime example of those little imps who deceived the entire world into believing they were less harmless than a button and just as cute.
At this point, Lady Barlow rose and brought the table to her attention. Most of what she said were the customary courtesies bestowed upon guests by their hosts; the only thing that I really paid attention to was her brief sketch over the tour that she would give us after breakfast. After she was finished, she waved Lucien over to her side as the rest of the table rose to fetch clothes for the outdoors.
We gathered once more in the grand entrance hall, shifting comfortably in our cloaks and fur-lined muffs. Peers, looking even more sour than the day before, opened one of the paneled doors with a huff and allowed the party to exit. Although she had seen everything many times over, Tiffanie Penous was still the most enthusiastic as she exclaimed over various things that Lady Barlow introduced to us on the grounds.
Lucien skipped along behind us, aimlessly tossing snowballs at birds that huddled together on tree branches. I was quite sure, however, that I was the only one who took note of his behavior. Whenever one of the other women chanced to look in his direction, he would kneel in the snow and pretend to be constructing a miniature snowman. When I turned an eye on him, however, he would grin fiendishly and toss a snowball at yet another bird with all the strength he could muster, as if daring me to say anything about it.
I chose to attempt to ignore him. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he irritated me.
Soon, we emerged at the top of a hill dotted with twin sled tracks. Two maids were breathlessly pulling sleds up the hill, their cheeks rosy from the crisp winter day. They presented us with the contraptions, and Lady Barlow immediately seated her plump self in one of them, pulling Madame Penous down in front of her.
"I'll steer," she exclaimed happily, as the two set off zooming down the hill. The others followed suit, and soon everyone was taking turns in the sleds.
I, however, hovered on the fringe of the activity. Unexpectedly, I suddenly began to feel nervous at the prospect of going down a hill on a wooden box at speeds greater than I cared for.
Exasperatingly, Lucien chose that moment to clock me soundly with a snowball in the back of my head. I knew that it had been him, even without looking. When I finally did turn around, he was lying in the snow once again, forming snow angels. He blinked innocent eyes at me, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"Payback for earlier."
I gaped angrily; "You stole from me!"
"Well, that's beside the point, isn't it?" Lucien continued to swish his arms and legs through the snow.
I turned my back to him, fixing my attention upon the hill. I would not let the little devil get to me!
"You scared or something?" His voice cut through my determination once again.
I crossed my arms indignantly, "What are you talking about?"
"Never been on a sled, have you?"
"Shut up, Lucien," I muttered, still refusing to look at him. "I'm ill, that's all."
"Really?" The boy sauntered up by my side. "You were well enough to attack me last night, weren't you?"
"You deserved it," I spat, uneager to return to any aspect of last night whatsoever.
Lucien scuffed his foot through the snow, covering my boots in the spray. "You made him really mad last night, you know. I was up until the actual crack of dawn cutting stones in the quarry." He made a face, "And all because you put him in a bad mood."
"Quarrying?" I echoed, despite myself. He was the grandson of an extremely wealthy woman; why on earth would he have to spend time in a quarry? "Why would you have to quarry?"
"That's exactly what I asked him," Lucien muttered. "I'm supposed to be learning how to be an architect, not a mole."
"A mole?"
"A mole. Moles dig, you stupid woman."
"Why you !" I swept down and captured a handful of snow.
Lucien quickly danced away from me. "All I have to do is scream! The others understand that I'm an utterly innocent child."
"The others are all being fooled by your looks."
"Yes, they're idiots, but it's my advantage in the end."
I smiled sweetly, inspired at that moment. "All it takes is one word in the right ear, and you're back in that quarry."
Lucien scowled, "I hate you." He jumped up and threw another snowball at a crow, "I can't understand why Grandmamma listens to him anyway. I've complained endless times, but still she persists in letting him do whatever he wants."
I noticed that Lucien had yet to refer to Erik as anything other than him. It was as if he feared the man's very name, as in a way, I myself did.
There was a time of silence as we watched the others whiz down the hill. Finally, I commented, "I take it you're studying architecture?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?" Lucien sat himself back down in the snow, "I haven't actually built anything yet, though. He keeps telling me that I'm not ready, but that's what all adults say." He scowled, "Adults can be so unfair to children."
I smiled; at this one moment, Lucien sounded more like a normal child.
"What are you smiling about?" The boy scowled and turned away from me, "I don't know where Grandmamma found him anyway. Personally, I think he's unqualified to school a great talent like mine, but -."
Lucien broke off because I had started to laugh. I could not help it; the child was so foolish and did not even realize it. In a way, his overconfidence was rather endearing. Like many young people, he clearly thought that he was ready to take on the world.
"What makes you think you have such a great talent?" I asked, still smiling.
"I used to build things out of twigs when I was little," Lucien spat at me, his eyes narrowed. "Are you laughing at me, woman?"
"It's impolite to address an elder in such a way," I wagged a finger in his direction. "Just because you can put a few twigs together to resemble a door, does not mean that you are qualified to build Colosseums."
"That's almost exactly what he said to me," Lucien snarled, his hands curling into fists. "I'm beginning to think that he never built anything that amazing either."
"Mm," I stretched my arms above my head. "Next time you visit your Grandmamma's library, be sure to look up the Opera Populaire in one of her books."
Lucien echoed, "The Opera Populaire?"
I shrugged, "It doesn't look like much on the outside, but the interior is a pure artistic masterpiece."
The boy frowned, "I thought someone else designed that opera house. I asked him about it a few months ago after I saw a picture."
I nodded, "He didn't design the exterior, but every stone was directed there by his hand. You should ask him about it some time."
Lucien looked nervous; "He doesn't like it when I pry."
"He wouldn't, would he?"
"How come you know so much about him anyway?" Lucien looked heavily suspicious now, small fists planted on his hips. "Last night wasn't the first time you two met each other, was it?"
I looked away, flushing. I knew I had said too much to the boy. "I…I met him once in Paris," I said finally, unsure of what else to add.
"He hates talking about Paris," Lucien mused aloud. "He didn't seem to like you very much either, especially with the way he had me toil like an animal this morning."
"Yes, well…" I lazily left the sentence unfinished. Last night I had painfully felt enough of the dislike that Erik now held for me.
"Are you crying?"
I realized that tears had begun to brim beneath my lashes, threatening to escape to my cheeks. Hurriedly, I brushed at my eyes with a glove hand and shook my head, "No, I am not."
"Yes you are!" Lucien jumped around me and began to chant, "Ooh, the poor woman, she's crying! Have I made you upset?" He grinned again, obviously pleased with this latest development.
"Shut up," I snapped at him, anger once again coloring my temperament. I opted for a change in subject, suddenly remembering, "Where is it anyway?"
Lucien looked genuinely confused, "Where is what?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" I took a step toward him, eyebrows drawn together heavily in a V. "Where is the other thing that you took from me?"
"Oh, that…I lost it."
"Don't lie to me," I moved closer to him, although I knew that he could escape my reach easily at any moment.
This time, however, the boy chose to stand his ground. "If you're referring to that worthless gold band, then I am telling the truth. I thought I left it in my room, but when I returned later, it was gone. That other disgusting rock was all I had."
"You think I'm stupid enough to believe you?"
Lucien smirked, "In all honesty? Yes, I do."
The boy had absolutely no idea of how much that small ring was worth to me. At this moment, all I wanted to do was beat that little mop of insolent hair into the ground and bury him in the snow until the next ice age took over.
At that moment, a winded Adelle ran up to my side and caught my elbow. "Come on, Christine! The snow is marvelous and you said so yourself that you've never been sledding!"
Lucien instantly assumed the expression of an naïve child, engaged in forming yet another snowman.
Upon seeing him, Adelle exclaimed, "You're Lucien, aren't you!"
He smiled up at her hesitantly, as if nervous in the presence of an adult. Behind Adelle, I made a revolted face at him.
"Yes, Madame," he answered her in courteous French that he rarely employed in my presence.
Adelle giggled, "He's too charming!" She touched me shoulder, "Since you two seem to be such great friends already, you should go down together! Your Grandmamma tells me you're an expert at steering," she added this last phrase to Lucien.
I was certain a gleam entered Lucien's eyes, "I would be happy to take Madame de Chagny on her first sled ride."
Naturally, Adelle saw nothing but an obliging child. "What a perfect gentleman! Come on, Christine!"
When we settled into the sled with Lucien behind me, I began to tremble. "If you try anything, remember that we'll both be killed."
Lucien laughed terribly, "Don't worry, Madame. I am expert at this. I assure you that I'm just going to have a bit of fun, that's all."
The moment we were pushed off the hill, Lucien aimed our path in the direction of every tree he could find, swerving out of the way only just before we could actually hit. He was quite adept at this and skilled to the point where he had me screaming at every twist and turn. When we finally reached the bottom of the hill, I was a shaking mess and vowing vehemently that I would never find myself in a sled again.
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That first night Lady Barlow had arranged for a small dinner party that was attended by several local friends of hers. Among these were various male acquaintances, invited for the purpose of adding a flavor of entertainment to the overwhelming company of women. Most were wealthy lords of some type, while others professed themselves to be artists. One young man could not stop reciting poetry to Adelle for a good part of the night, although she did not exactly seem to mind much.
For my part, I was content to hover beside an array of greenery in one corner of Lady Barlow's drawing room. Our party was too small for the use of the cavernous ballroom, although this room had more than enough space to accommodate a piano, orchestra, and an array of twirling couples.
As I sipped at a drink, I watched the poetry man sweep Adelle about the carpeted room. She looked entirely happy in her surroundings and as if she did not have a care in the world. Here, it seemed, we were all eager to forget our husbands and lives at home.
When the dance was done, Adelle grabbed some refreshment of her own and elbowed me into a corner. "Well, what do you think?" She demanded of me, excitedly.
"Of what?" I slurred through sips of my alcohol.
"Of him, of course," she rolled her eyes and indicated the poetry man.
"Oh, he's fine," was all I could say.
"Isn't he?" Adelle sighed, swirling her glass thoughtfully.
"Adelle, you're married," I pointed out quietly, but feeling it necessary to do so.
She laughed nervously, "Yes, I know, Christine! Don't worry…" She abruptly found another subject, "Did you hear, by the way?"
"Hear what?" I repeated tiredly, in no mood for any more of her guessing games.
"You'll never believe it, but I heard the maids and Lady Barlow talking this morning." She peered into my face, grinning, "Monsieur D'Artois is here. Right here in this house! Isn't that exciting, Christine? I can't wait to meet him!"
"Who?" I demanded, my mind drawing a blank for a moment.
"Him!" Adelle giggled furiously, "Christine, you really must pay attention to what I say! D'Artois, the composer!"
Of course. That was Erik's pen name for the opera. I almost smiled, for it appeared that the self-loathing, anti-social Erik actually had admirers.
"I knew you'd be thrilled!" Adelle danced around me, "I would love to meet him!"
I raised an eyebrow, "And what exactly would you say?"
"I'd tell him how much I loved his operas, and how much I…I…" she trailed off, suddenly frowning. She regained herself quickly, however, "I wonder what he looks like! What if he's in this room right now?"
Alarmed, I twitched and made a quick survey of the room. What if he did indeed choose to put in an appearance among these people? I did not know if I could keep my composure with all these people around me. Then again, it was silly to fear such a thing. I knew that Erik did not usually mingle among so great a crowd unless absolutely necessary.
My inspection did not reveal his presence, but I did see that a thick crowd of mostly female enthusiasts surrounded Lucien. The little creature stood on an elegant mahogany chair, waving his hands about in the air with great animation.
Adelle noticed my interest and led me over to the crowd, "That adorable child is putting on a little magic show for everyone. It's quite impressive, especially for such a young child."
Indeed, Lucien appeared to be engaged in an extremely elaborate demonstration of transfiguration. I saw floating scarves that became hats in midair before settling into the form of glasses upon the very shocked noses of several men in the audience. Doves flitted above in the rafters, dropping as pearls into the boy's hands. There was a constant sound of applause for the boy, and I could not help but be awed myself. I was certain that Erik had been imparting more to this boy than his knowledge of architecture.
Several more hours passed before the thick of the crowd began to drift home. Most of the couples had departed by the time that the bachelors began lighting cigars in one corner of the room. Lady Barlow wrinkled her nose at this habit and continued to mingle among the other guests, most of whom consisted of the arts circle. Adelle's poet continued to court her, and I swore that I caught them sharing a cigar at one point.
Once again, I found myself alone in a corner of the room. Lady Barlow had dimmed some of the lights long ago until a sleepy glow settled over the atmosphere, coupled with the curling smoke. I was not alone in my solitude, for I noticed Lucien dozing in a corner, his hand curled around a tuft of scarves. The doves and hats had long ago disappeared, and I was surprised that no one had yet cajoled the boy up to bed.
It was only now that I realized I had never seen either of his parents. I recalled Erik referring to Lucien's mother, but I could not remember Lady Barlow ever having introduced me to the woman. In any case, whoever she was, the woman was neglecting her responsibilities. It was now well past midnight, and a boy hardly older than ten was snoozing in the company of drinking and smoking adults.
I went over to Lucien's corner of the room and knelt beside the boy who was curled up on the piano bench. I shook him gently by the shoulder until he blinked weary eyes at me.
"I think it's time you went to bed," I told him kindly. "You've had a very long day."
"You're ugly in that dress," was his response as he yawned widely.
I immediately regretted waking him up; after all, I had only had the best intentions in mind. I was the only adult in the room who seemed to have remembered the boy at all. Ungrateful child!
"Well, rot here for all I care," I snapped at him and rose to my feet. Immediately, I collided with a tall form and stumbled clumsily.
I did not even have to look up to see who it was.
"Are you following me?" Erik inquired pleasantly, catching me in my awkwardness yet again. "We seem to run into each other everywhere."
Gone was the vindictive anger of the night before. In place, however, was a calm neutrality that was equally unsettling. Although his words were playful, something in his manner still spoke of disinterest.
I did not reply for a time, and Erik instead turned his attention to Lucien. With a firm and quiet command, he ordered the boy to bed. Once again, the child obeyed unquestioningly without even a whine of dissatisfaction. I could only envy the unconditional obedience that Lucien offered to Erik.
I studied him casually, taking note that he was dressed like the other men in the room in their formal evening attire. The only thing that stood out was the white mask, but that too seemed to somehow melt into the atmosphere. None of the other occupants of the room were even staring, as I would have expected them to do. He had entered the scene so quietly that most people were probably still unaware of his presence.
He seemed entirely comfortable with the silence, although I was becoming steadily unsettled. The situation was odd at best, and I could only remark, "I thought you detested being out in boring culture like this."
He shrugged, "I know most of the people here. English society is so much more pleasant than the usual French snobbery."
"You're French yourself," I replied indignantly.
"Your point?"
Lady Barlow chose this moment to sweep herself over to us. "Erik!" She enthused, taking his arm intimately. "How nice of you to join us this evening!" Her quick glance darted between us, "Do you two know each other?"
Erik smiled disarmingly at the matron, the unmasked side of his face unbearably attractive in the dim light of the parlor. "I'm afraid I gave this lady a bit of a scare last night."
"Well, then let me introduce you formally!" Lady Barlow waved an eager hand in my direction, "This is the lovely Comtesse de Chagny, newly-arrived from Paris." She nodded then at Erik, "And this is Monsieur D'Artois, a very good friend of mine. I believe you have heard of him?"
I nodded, attempting to appear nonchalant, and hoping that I did not look as nervous as I felt. "The…the opera, yes," I managed at last, my smile half-hearted.
Erik, of course, was all charm as if nothing were out of the ordinary. It was as if he felt none of the turmoil that I did, and perhaps that was the case. Truly, his manner manifested a distant aloofness as he took my hand and graciously kissed it as custom dictated. "It is an honor, Madame," he purred, his eyes on mine the entire time.
"Your work is extraordinary," I continued, aware that Lady Barlow was regarding me expectantly. I knew that I had to keep up the façade so as not to arouse her suspicion.
He only seemed amused at my attempts to appear casual. "It is truly a joy to hear flattering words from such an exquisite woman," he murmured pleasantly, although I was sure he was laughing at me.
I really had nothing to say to that. I mumbled, flustered for a time, hating that he still possessed such power over me. He continued to toy with me, perhaps trying to see how long I could hold out before my defenses crumbled.
"A dance, Madame?"
I nearly jumped at those words. The orchestra had begun to play a soft waltz, barely on the edge of my perception in my consternation. Erik was holding his elegantly-gloved hand out to me, leaving me with no choice but to accept under Lady Barlow's watchful gaze. "Forgive me, Elizabeth," he gave the woman a teasing apologetic look, "I promise the next dance will be yours."
"Well!" But Lady Barlow was pouting falsely, a smile taking over her features at the banter.
Erik led me out among the other moving couples, confidently adjusting our movement to theirs. His arm quickly found its place about my waist, a gesture of habit and familiarity that spoke of the fact that we were well accustomed to each other. When I rested my hand on his shoulder, I almost gently rubbed my fingertips against the smooth contours of his chin, aching for the intimate touches of old. Yet, I refrained, knowing it would only anger him. I fit into his hold as if I had always belonged there, but still I was overtaken by tension and anxiety.
"Will you relax?" Erik demanded of me, easing his grip on my hand. "I swear I feel like I'm heaving a wooden plank about the parlor."
"What happened to all that charm you seemed so keen to display in front of Lady Barlow?" I threw the words back spitefully, wanting him to know that I was angry with him.
"Appearances, my dear," Erik returned smoothly. "She likes you a great deal, you know, and I can't go around insulting one of her favorites."
"Is that the reason you asked me to dance?" I asked the question softly, feeling a pang of hurt despite myself.
"I did only as common courtesy would dictate."
I bowed my head, "I see." Even through our gloves, his hands sent a warmth to my body that I found myself entirely unable to let go of. I was so close to him, yet no more near than customary for a dance. I knew that he held me at a distance deliberately, torturing me silently with every single step that we took. Even so, he regarded me passively the entire time, and I was sure that only I could discern the iciness upon his features.
Was this really the same man who had once allowed himself to weep and lay bare his entire soul before me? Was this the same man whom I had kissed just that once, so many years ago beneath the dungeons of the Opera Populaire? Was this the same man who had whispered that he loved me, even as I turned my back on him and fled with my young lover?
"I…Lucien…he told me you're instructing him in architecture." I decided to attempt to lighten the atmosphere with casual conversation as the silence between us was too peculiar for my liking.
"Yes."
I gritted my teeth, "What I don't understand is why you're here. I mean, you never struck me as the type to enjoy socializing in public all that much."
Erik smiled enigmatically, "Lady Barlow has done some favors for me in the past and I enjoy her company."
I snorted, "Really?"
"Yes, really." Erik then sighed, "As you have probably noticed this place is a genuine muddle of imagination and architectural ambition without the skill."
"Yes?"
"Simply put, Lady Barlow loves my talent and I love her money. She continually funds my work."
"Oh." Most of it made sense to me now.
As the dance ended, I let go of him reluctantly. When he moved away from me and executed a formal bow of farewell, I suddenly felt very cold and utterly alone. The room was warm, but I felt as if a part of me had been stripped away, and that I stood naked before the entire room.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Madame," he murmured, turning his back on me.
I almost started after him, but thought better of it when Adelle appeared behind me. "Christine…who was that?" Her voice held a certain tone of awe as she peered over my shoulder.
Numbly, I watched as Erik invited Lady Barlow on to the dance floor. It was as if every one of his gestures were deliberately aimed at punishing me, for I found impossible pain and envy in every single thing he did.
"You two looked absolutely perfect together," Adelle sighed, looking in Erik's direction dreamily. "Granted, it is a little odd to be wearing a mask – what for, I wonder – but he still seemed so…" her voice trailed off as she gazed after Erik with a certain curiosity in her eyes.
"So…?"
"The way he held you, it was like you were two halves of the same whole." Adelle suddenly blushed and looked away from me, hiding her flaming cheeks.
I laughed outright at this, "Adelle, you simply must stop reading all that romance novel trash."
She sighed loudly, "Still, who was he?"
I whisked another glass of alcohol off the tray of a waiter. "That, my lovely Adelle, was your dear Monsieur D'Artois."
"…No…"
"Oh, yes." I smirked over the rim of my wineglass.
"He's…different from what I imagined," Adelle remarked, chewing absently on her white glove. "He frightens me in a way. There's something dangerous about him. You looked like you were on the verge of tears for a moment, Christine."
"Did I?" I had cried so often in the past few days that I had almost ceased to notice.
Adelle shook her head, but let it stay at that. Instead, she nodded at the other end of the room where the bachelors were all huddled in a clump and smoking, "I had a lovely time tonight with Bert."
"Bert?"
"That one in the very corner," Adelle indicated a striking boy with her fan. "He spoke the loveliest words to me."
Ah, the poet. I laughed and pulled Adelle away from the crowd, "Yes, he's very handsome indeed. And now, it's off to bed for me."
Adelle yawned prettily, "I suppose I'll turn in as well." She began to lead me out of the parlor, "Christine, promise me that you'll introduce us tomorrow?"
"What?"
"To him!" She nodded at Erik, who was engaged in a conversation with several of the cigar-smoking bachelors. It was certainly odd to see him in such a sociable setting, although I was sure that he held every person in the room beneath his contempt.
I began to pull her away more forcefully, "I hardly know him, Adelle."
Luckily for me, Lady Barlow chose that moment to sweep down upon us.
"Retiring so soon, ladies?" Her perfume invaded the air as soon as she halted our steps.
I curtseyed prettily, "I fear that we are tired, my lady."
She swept her fan in a low arc, "Yes, yes, well…Tomorrow I hope I will get a chance to spend more time with you ladies. The first day is always just so busy! I do hope you will both honor me with a walk in the gardens tomorrow morning?"
Adelle curtseyed in her turn, "It would be our pleasure."
"Excellent!" Lady Barlow then turned a conspiratorial glance on me, "Tomorrow evening I am holding one of those soirees that I mentioned to you the other day. It will be quite small and only for my art-loving friends, I assure you. I do, however, recall that you promised to indulge us with a song."
"What?" I hissed quickly, my heart hammering in my chest. "I…I…" I remembered joking about singing a duet, but nothing…nothing!…Oh no.
With the way that Lady Barlow was looking at me, I knew I could not refuse. I dipped a final curtsey in her direction and murmured, "I would be honored to, my lady."
"Brilliant!" She exclaimed. "Good night, girls!"
I began to fervently pray for a cold.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! This chapter was a little dry, but next chap will be full of drama, angst, and all that fun stuff.
At least, I hope it will. Thanks again!