Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is the work of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. My characterizations are based on the 2004 film.
A/N: Starlightlita, sorry! Erik is an only child. In Chapter Eleven Erik discovered Collette trying to steal the evidence he and Christine are planning to take to the police, and he threw her out. Please read and review; many thanks to those who have commented. I appreciate you taking the time to respond.
NO ONE BUT HER
Chapter Twelve—The Devil's Children
Glancing nervously back over her shoulder, Collette questioned again the wisdom of coming here by herself. Then she remembered the scene with Erik and her spine stiffened. That—that . . . beast isn't going to get the best of me!
She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand, checking the names of the streets at the intersection where she stood in the gathering darkness. Yes, this is it—Rue du le Flambeau. She had been somewhat surprised when she'd realized that Robert lived in a less than prosperous part of the city.
She asked a gendarme for directions and received instead a stinging lecture about the foolishness of being alone in that part of the city. Her ears ringing and her lip swollen from where she'd bitten it to make tears come to her eyes in a bid for sympathy, she hurried down the street.
"Merde! Finally!" she muttered when she reached the run-down building with the number 66 hanging crookedly by the front door. Her sources had informed her that Robert rented an apartment on the third floor. Once inside, she glared at the steep, narrow staircase that led upward.
Grumbling under her breath about people who couldn't live on the ground floor, Collette lifted her skirts and began to trudge up the stairs. She had to stop on the second floor landing to catch her breath. After another stop between the second and third floors, she finally reached the top of the staircase and grasped the newel post to steady herself until her breathing returned to normal.
Robert's apartment was at the end of a rather dark hallway, and she felt a tingle of apprehension on the back of her neck. But the memory of Erik's sneering face made her march down the hall to knock loudly on Robert's door.
It opened so suddenly that she gave a squeak of surprise. The man who filled the doorway in no way fulfilled her expectations. Tall and thin, except for a paunch that strained his stained waistcoat, scraggly graying hair and a day's worth of whiskers on his cheeks, Guy Robert looked more like a struggling shopkeeper than the late Vicomte de Chagny's business manager.
"Mon—Monsieur Robert?" Cursing herself for the timid stutter, Collette squared her shoulders, knowing it would draw attention to the low décolletage of her gown.
His faded blue eyes dipped momentarily in that direction, but then he said, "Go away, mademoiselle. I have no interest in company of your kind tonight."
"My—my kind? Why, you . . . you . . ." Her rather extensive vocabulary of expletives deserted her and she could only stand there and glare at him. Finally the red mist of rage cleared and she spat, "I came here to make a legitimate business proposition to you regarding the Vicomtesse de Changy, but if you're not interested—"
Robert grabbed her arm and pulled her inside before she said another word. Slamming the door behind them, he demanded, "What kind of business proposition? The last one that bastard the Vicomte put me onto nearly ruined me!"
"And now the vicomte is dead, isn't he? How would you like to take your revenge on his widow and her new . . . 'protector'?" She saw an answering gleam of avarice in Robert's eyes and smiled wickedly.
"Please, mademoiselle, sit down. I believe we have much to discuss." Robert indicated an armchair with faded upholstery and she sank gingerly onto its cushion. "Now, mademoiselle, please tell me who you are and your ideas for our . . . collaboration."
She explained who she was, her 'relationship' to Erik and her determination to fleece him for every franc she could get.
"And just where do I fit into your plans, Mademoiselle Collette?" His tone edged on boredom, firing her temper anew.
"By the fact that the Vicomtesse and my cousin the beast intend to go to the authorities with proof that you've been embezzling from the vicomte for years." She saw fear in his eyes before he looked away.
"What kind of proof?" he asked quickly. When she didn't answer immediately he grasped her wrist, adding more bruises to the ones Erik had given her yesterday.
"You're hurting me!" she whined and Robert thrust her hand away in loathing. "I—I don't know what kind of proof they have," she went on. "I was going to steal it before they could take it to the police, but—the beast caught me." Robert's snort of disgust had her snapping at him, "But I do know they want to work with the police on a plan to trap you, and so then have you arrested on the spot."
He began to think through some of the possibilities. "How much do you know of what they want to do?" She told him all that she'd overheard about meeting him at a café and he slapped his knee. "Perfect!" he crowed. "All we have to do is find a way guaranteed to separate them, then we grab the woman and hide her somewhere away from the city."
Robert reached for her hand and she watched him warily as he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. "I believe, Mademoiselle Collette, we will indeed have a successful partnership."
Erik woke because someone kept pulling at his hair. He felt a puff of air on his face and realized it was his horse, Thunder. Gingerly he raised his head only to fall back gasping as razor-sharp pain shot through his skull.
Carefully he reached behind him and felt the lump growing on the back of his head. With sudden clarity he remembered what had happened. Struggling to his feet he swayed and nearly fell, but Thunder shoved his head under Erik's armpit and held him steady until Erik had regained his balance.
"Thank you, my friend." Erik patted the horse's neck. "That bastard has Christine—we have to get help and rescue her right away." It took him three attempts to pull himself into the saddle on the stallion's back, but finally he made it and grasped the reins. Kneeing the animal into motion they hurried to Christine's estate, every jolt of Thunder's hooves making Erik's head pound sickeningly.
He slid off the stallion when they arrived, his knees nearly buckling when he hit the ground. Hanging onto the saddle he managed to steady himself then made his way into the house. Meg Giry came out of the library at a run and slid an arm around his waist. "My God, Erik! What happened?"
"That— bastard Robert—knocked me out—and took Christine," he said through clenched teeth. "We—have to—find her."
Meg steered him into the library and pushed him down on the sofa. "You stay there and don't you dare move," she ordered him. "I'm going to fetch Maman."
He leaned forward and held his head between his hands like a vice. Jolting when someone laid a cold, wet cloth on the bump on the back of his head, he moaned, partly in pain and partly in relief.
"The inspector of police is here, waiting to speak to you," Marie said quietly. "Will you be able to tell him—and us—what happened without losing your temper?" The look he shot her made her chuckle softly. "Bien. I will tell Inspecteur Filbert you are ready to speak to him." She gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. "It will be all right, mon chèr. She will be fine."
From your lips to God's ear! thought Erik. Minutes later a short, frumpily dressed man entered the room and sat across from Erik. "Please, monsieur, start at the beginning of the evening. I believe you and the Vicomtesse had worked out a plan with some of my colleagues to trap M. Robert?"
"Yes, sergents Louis and Michele. The Vicomtesse and I had given them proof, gathered by the late vicomte, that Robert had been embezzling from him. Robert was to meet us at seven tonight at the Café Dupres on the pretext that I was interested in investing in a new scheme of his, but demanded to meet with him first.
"Robert had just completed explaining the 'opportunity' to me when I heard my horse, sounding . . . agitated. I excused myself to go outside and check on him. Someone had struck him several times, leaving scratches and welts on his flank. Just as I got him calmed down, I heard the Vicomtesse cry out and someone struck me on the back of the head. I'm not sure how long I was unconscious. As soon as I came to, I rode here."
"Hmmmm." The inspector made notes on a small pad that he pulled form an inside jacket pocket. "Besides the sergents, did anyone else know of your plans? Someone who would have a reason for telling Robert of your intentions?"
Erik's mouth turned down as he spat out a vile oath. "Yes," he hissed, "Collette Broussard. She is the daughter of a distant cousin of mine. Recently I came into a rather large sum of money. Collette . . . proposed that she and I . . . 'join forces', for want of a better phrase. I refused everything she was offering, if you take my meaning, monsieur, and she vowed revenge."
"Hmmmm. And no one else comes to mind?"
"No. Until recently, Inspecteur, I have been . . . somewhat of a recluse. The business investments I have made have been through a third party—I gave them the money and instructions for the person with whom the investment was being made." At Filbert's raised eyebrow, Erik shrugged. "They were simply told that I did not care to get out much in public. My money was as good as anyone else's—why would they not accept it? I made no unreasonable demands, merely expected the dividends that were due me at the appropriate time."
For a moment Filbert made no reply then asked, "Is it possible that M. Robert and Mlle. Broussard are acquainted?"
Erik grunted. "It has been my experience, Inspecteur, that people of that nature—greedy, amoral and stupid—tend to seek out each other. After I rejected her 'offer', it would not surprise me in the least if she had contacted him, in order to help him and to hurt myself and the Vicomtesse."
"Do you have any idea where he might have taken the Vicomtesse?"
Cursing softly, Erik rose and walked a few steps, holding one side of his head. "No, unfortunately. Perhaps Madame Giry might have an idea, or someone else who works for the Vicomtesse."
"Bien. We will be in close contact with you, monsieur, in case of ransom demands, etc." He cleared his throat and added tersely, "Be certain that you do not do anything foolish, monsieur. Leave the rescue of the Vicomtesse to us."
Erik gave him a curt nod but said nothing. After the inspector had departed, he gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. " 'Leave the rescue of the Vicomtesse to us,' " he mimicked Filbert. "Not bloody likely!"