More Company

By KaitlynRose

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

I've received some complaints so let me take a minute to do a character round up.

Marquis Byron de Delancy: Raoul's friend from school. He's a pompous jerk. Same age as Raoul.
M. Jean Bourgogne: Raoul's school friend. Poor but nice. His older brother has the title in the family along with all the money. He's handsome and Meg likes him.
Lucien: Elderly man who was hired by Mme Giry to be a servant for Erik.
Bedelia: Elderly woman who was hired by Mme Giry to be the cook for Erik.
Roi: We haven't met this guy yet. He's the grounds keeper for Erik.
Comtesse Margot de Laroque: Introduced in this chapter. She is Raoul's aunt. She's going to be a real in your face kind of broad. She's old and she doesn't care what she says anymore or who she offends. She will end up being a big defender of Christine's.

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Christine sat in the sitting room listening to Raoul's and Byron's recount the antics they did when in boarding school. They were laughing so hard that tears fell from their eyes. Truthfully the story they told wasn't that funny, she thought, but Marquis Byron had obviously consumed too much wine.

"And then Professor Lowell opens the door and catches us red handed pouring his bottle of ink all over the tests everyone had just taken earlier in the day," Raoul said.

"Red handed," Byron said. "Don't you mean black handed. If I remember correctly my hands were stained black for a week."

"Which made pleading our innocence completely useless," Raoul added. "It's impossible to say you didn't do it when the evidence is all over you." Everyone burst into another fit of giggles.

"Lowell tried to have all of us expelled," Raoul continued.

"Luckily for us, our parents were able to make substantially large contributions to the library that year, which saved our collective hides," Byron said.

"Raoul, I'm shocked," Christine said. "You seemed like such a sweet boy when I knew you back then."

"All boys behave sweetly when they are with pretty little girls," Byron laughed. "It's not until you put a bunch of us together away from the females that our bravado truly surfaces," Byron explained.

"So what punishment did you finally end up receiving?" Christine asked.

"We had to muck out the school stables everyday for a month," Raoul said. "It got to the point that we smelled of manure so badly that it didn't even wash off anymore."

"Other kids in class wouldn't even sit next to us. We positively reeked!" Byron said, his nose crinkling as he recalled the memory.

"Which was probably a good thing since all the other boys wanted to beat us to a pulp," Raoul said. "The entire class had to retake the test because the originals were ruined beyond hope."

The room fell silent for a moment. Christine used the time to study the differences between Raoul and Byron. Their friendship seemed strange to her. They were very different. Both were handsome. Raoul, though strong and brave, was fair and delicate in appearance, where as Byron was broad shouldered with dark curly hair and a strong brow. Meg had described him as roguish. But the biggest difference was their personalities. Raoul was polite and always courteous, even when he was upset. Byron was sometimes a bit of a brute. He drank too much, smoked too much, and spoke too much, often asking things that were just slightly indecent.

On the other hand, she could see why Raoul would have been drawn to Byron as a child. Byron was rash, almost incorrigible. For someone like Raoul the excitement and daring must have been irresistible.

Christine suddenly realized she was staring at Byron, and that he was staring back at her. He winked his eye and gave her a small smirk. She blushed and turned her gaze.

Byron loved Christine's eyes. They were large and expressed so much. She couldn't tell a lie even if she wanted to. Her eyes would always betray her. His gaze dropped down to her bosom. Her breasts weren't very large, but her corset pushed them up nicely. She was so small and delicate, and her waist was one of the smallest he had ever seen. For a moment he fantasized what it would feel like to slip his hands around her waist and hold her close. Quickly he shook his head and forced the thought from his mind.

"What about you?" Byron asked, gaining control of his thoughts. "What was the most devilish deed you ever performed?"

"Oh, nothing as extravagant as you two. For me it was a bit different. If I had defied Mme Giry in such a way I would have been kicked out of the dance school and then sent to an orphanage," Christine told them.

"Surely you aren't saying that you have never done anything wrong," Byron asked. "No one is that innocent."

"No, I'm not saying that. At night I used to sneak out of my bed and go to the chapel to light a candle for my father. Then he would come and we would practice our music for hours." She smiled at the pleasant memory. "You would have thought that I would have been too tired for dancing the next day, but I never was. I don't even know how I would end up back in my bed every night since I would always fall asleep in the chapel, but in the morning when I awoke I would be tucked in snug and warm." There had been a time when her Angel had made her feel so special, so safe.

"Wait, who tucked you in to bed?" Byron asked, intrigued by the story.

Christine was spared from having to answer that question as just then Linus entered the room and announced the arrival of Comtesse Margot de Laroque. The three stood up to welcome the new person. Raoul hurried to the door to greet her. Byron stole a glance at Christine and imagined carrying her to her room and tucking her into bed.

"Aunt, how wonderful to see," Raoul said as she gave him a kiss on both cheeks.

"It is good to see you too," she replied.

"We weren't expecting you until tomorrow," Raoul stated. "I'm afraid father isn't even here right now. He is visiting the Travolds this evening." He escorted her over to the sofa and helped her to sit.

"It is no bother. Besides, I did not come to see your father. I came to meet this fiancé of yours."

Raoul turned to Christine and motioned for her to come forward. "This is my fiancé, Mlle Christine Daae. Christine, this is my aunt, Comtesse Margot de Laroque."

"How do you do, Comtesse?" Christine said and curtsied respectfully.

The comtesse studied Christine carefully. "You are very beautiful, child."

"Thank you, your grace."

"How old are you my dear?"

"Sixteen."

"So young," she said sadly. "Enjoy your youth. One ages so fast. One day you will blink your eyes and find yourself as old as I am and you will wonder where all the time went."

"You do mot look that old to me," Christine said.

"One shouldn't tell white lies, even when told out of politeness." She looked at Raoul and Byron. "Boys, leave us women alone to talk."

"Is there anything I can get for you before I go?" Raoul asked.

"A brandy would be wonderful. This old body feels the chill outside much more than it used to."

Raoul walked to the decanter and poured a small amount.

"Fill it up," the Comtesse ordered.

Christine smiled. This woman was a stranger to her and yet she already adored the woman. For being old she still wore clothing that was quite fashionable and intricate. Her powder blue dress was stunning with its low cut and white silk trimmings, and it hung nicely on her thin frame. Her snow white hair was pulled up into an elaborate twist with curls and ribbons.

Raoul handed her the glass and she polished it off in about three gulps. Christine was a bit shocked. She had never seen a woman of culture drink liquor in such a manner. The Comtesse handed the glass back to Raoul and shooed him away. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

"I have heard that you can sing quite well. Is this true?"

"Yes, madam," Christine answered.

"Excellent. After dinner I shall play the piano and you shall sing."

Christine almost laughed. She had never been commanded to sing by anyone other than her Angel before. "I would be happy to sing for you."

"What is this business I hear about you being a chorus girl?"

"My father died when I was seven years old. Instead of sending me to an orphanage, his executor arranged for me to come to the Opera Populaire where I lived with Mme Giry in the ballet school."

"Did you know how to dance before you came to Paris?"

"Yes, father played the violin. He was quite famous when alive. I was always surrounded by dancers and so I started to learn when I was but three years old."

"I take it you have no fortune to bring to this union?" It was a statement more than a question.

Christine felt her heart skip a beat. The treachery was already beginning. "No Comtesse. I have not. I only have my love to give, and I give it all to Raoul."

"I see. Why shouldn't I believe you to be a gold digger trying to climb the ranks of social status?"

"Truthfully, I can not make you believe anything you aren't already predisposed to believe. I can only say that I love Raoul for who he is. Honestly, I wish he didn't have so much money or even a title. I know I have much to learn still, but I am not so naïve. I know what the others will think of me tomorrow night. They will think the same thing you do, and they will be cold and ruthless in their treatment of me. But I love Raoul, and if I must endure contempt and scrutiny for his sake, then so be it."

The Comtesse was silent for a moment, absorbing the words Christine had said. "They will be ruthless. I, however, shall not. I am glad to see Raoul marry someone who truly loves him. I was not so lucky. I married a wealthy man. Of course, I was a wealthy woman, but the point of marriage is to strengthen the family's fortune and good name, at least, that's most people think. Alfredo had all the qualities that were supposed to guarantee a good match. He was handsome, young, strong, a Comte, and desired by many."

"You must have been very happy together," Christine said with a smile.

"Heaven's no. I was miserable. He was miserable. Truth was, he was in love with Violetta, who was as poor as a mouse, and I was in love with the stable boy who worked here all those years ago. We pretended to be happy. I gave him two sons, who both died before the age of ten, and then he finally died about a month before our fourteenth wedding anniversary. What a relief that was. I was finally free of my misery, but my youth was gone and I was no longer marriage material. Thank god for lovers or I surely would have gone mad!"

Christine was speechless. Never had anyone, especially a woman, spoken so boldly, so frankly, to her before.

"Left you speechless, did I?" the Comtesse laughed. "Hmm, what I wouldn't give to be as innocent as you once again. Unfortunately I lost my rose colored glasses a couple of decades ago."

"I am sorry," Christine said.

"Don't be," she replied. "Just love my nephew with all of your heart. Don't listen to those other old biddies who will try to wound you with their words. Just remember that most of those women are in marriages that are as miserable as mine was. They will tempt you to do or say something foolish. Don't! Always keep a smile on your face, thank them for their words of wisdom, and walk away with your head held high, and know that your best revenge is your continued happiness."

Christine was so touched that this woman was willing to share her kinds words and the wisdom gained from a lifetime of living that, before she even realized what she was doing, she threw her arms around the old woman and gave her a hug.

"Thank you," Christine said sincerely.

At first the Comtesse sat passively during the impromptu display of affection, but after a moment she smiled and patted the sweet girl on the back.

"You are quite welcome, my dear."

A loud bump and a thump from the hallway interrupted the tender moment. They both looked to see what the noise was, but then all was silent. The Comtesse dismissed the noise and continued with her talk.

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"What's happening?" Byron asked.

"Shhh!" Raoul whispered. He couldn't believe he had let Byron talk him into this, but then again, that was what Byron usually did, wasn't it. Talk him in to doing something ridiculous.

"They're just talking," Raoul said as he continued to peer through the keyhole.

"Yes, but talking about what?" Byron wanted to know. "Your aunt is a mean, old, shrew. I can only imagine what she is saying to Christine right now."

"My aunt is not that bad," Raoul defended. "Now be quiet so I can listen."

"Your aunt would intimidate the devil himself if he were standing here. She's probably grilling Christine on the fact that she has no family or fortune."

Raoul sighed. He hoped that wasn't what was happening in the sitting room. He had meant to warn Christine about his outspoken relative but she had arrived a day early. Actually, he rather liked the old woman. He admired her brashness and even her spunk, but still, god only knew what was being said between the two.

"Well, what's happening?"

"My aunt is talking about her late husband," Raoul said, having caught a word or two. He saw Christine's eyes open wide. Obviously his aunt said something disturbing. Should he go in there? He could make up some excuse to interrupt the conversation. He laughed at himself. How is it he was able to charge into danger and fight a phantom, but he coward behind a door looking through a keyhole when it came to his aunt? Maybe he should have had his aunt go to battle against the Phantom. Now that would have been a sight to see.

"Thank God," Raoul gasped when he saw Christine throw her arms around the old woman and hug her tightly.

"What's going on?"

Byron jumped and tripped over Raoul, falling onto the floor, which cause Raoul to bash his head into the door. Both men looked up to see a very confused Meg standing there. Quickly, they both put a finger over their mouths warning her to stay silent.

Byron stood up and rubbed at his bottom while Raoul gave a soft moan and rubbed at the sore spot on his head.

"Why do I listen to you?" Raoul asked, looking at Byron.

"Simple," Byron replied. "I make life more fun." He bent down to take a quick look through the keyhole himself while Raoul went to steer Meg away from the door.

Byron saw and heard Christine and the Comtesse laughing. He watched the way Christine's bare shoulders shook up and down. He admired the fine curve of her neck and the way her hair cascaded down her back. He hated to admit it to himself, but he was falling in love. He had felt something from the moment he had met her, but as the days went by the attraction was growing and growing. Still, he couldn't betray his best friend.

He pried himself away from the door and saw that he was alone. Raoul and Meg had walked off and left him. He took a deep breath, trying to push the desire he felt away. This was wrong, all wrong. Even if he could get Christine interested in him, he could never marry her. Raoul's father and aunt may have been fine with the idea of their son marry a chorus girl, but his family never would. That didn't stop him from wanting her, though.

He walked down the hallway sulking. He wasn't used to not being able to have what he wanted. Lord knows he had had many chorus girls. Usually all you had to do was wave a small trinket of some kind in front of them and they would be very accommodating, and if they chose to not be accommodating, well then he could always just take what he wanted. After all, who would people believe. A Marquis, or a chorus girl. Christine was different though. Besides, she was marrying a Vicomte who spoiled her endlessly. She didn't need to take a lover, and he would never be able to bribe his way in to her bed. For the moment, Christine was out of reach to him.