The next morning, Antoinette woke from pleasant dreams. Even a scandalous one involving a certain masked gentleman down the hall. Shaking off her silly fancies, she dressed in a crisp white blouse and black skirt with a bustle in the back. Her mother's golden locket peeked out from under her collar as she exited the room patting her hair done up in a neat braid. That was when she noticed Jean Claude huffing and puffing in agitation in the hallway just outside Erik's room.
"Jean Claude? Is something amiss?"
"Oui Mademoiselle. I woke your guest this morning, but he barked at me to get out. I refused him politely telling him of your orders to draw him a bath. He permitted me this, but when I went to his bags to help him choose some attire for today, he shoved me out the room saying my duty had been fulfilled! Really Miss, before you came up to me, I had half a mind to go in there again and show him what I learned in the French Army!"
"I understand your frustration, Jean Claude, but you must be patient with our guest. He is used to living alone and doing everything for himself. Having a valet is not even a thought he entertains." said Antoinette folding her hands before her. Jean Claude gave a grunt of indignation and told her,
"If it is not to bold to say Miss, the way he was eyeing you last night, I suspect he shall be more reasonable under your influence!" Surprised at this observations by the old man, Antoinette smiled and nodded,
"I shall talk to him. See to your other duties, Jean Claude." Before he could bow, take his leave or say, 'Oui Mademoiselle', Antoinette knocked on Erik's door and called out,
"Mousier? May I come in?" There was silence a moment. She wasn't sure he had heard her until his soft baritone called out almost in surrender,
"Come in." Upon opening the door, she was surprised at her feet kicking at a discarded pair of pants. The rest of his room looked quite the same with strewn about shirts, waistcoats, vests and pants all over. But it was the sight of him coming from the private bath, clad only in a towel around his broad shoulders and breeches did she gasp and blush. Propriety demanded she turn her face from him, but her own nature of mischief crept in as a smile danced on her lips as she said,
"Sir, you should not have called me to enter if you were not descent."
"Why not?" he asked her. Knowing her sainted mother and grandmother were turning in their graves, she dared to look aside at him, but she saw only general confusion in his eyes. He had been more sheltered from society than she thought.
"A woman should not see a man in any state of undress less they be married." she told him.
"Why?" he asked again shaking his head.
"Surely you know what it would imply?" she asked.
"That we are two lovers used to seeing each other in states of undress? Why would it imply that if we are not in love?" he asked with a shrug. It struck her just then that the masked man who stood before her was caught somewhere between an ignorant boy who knew nothing of the demands of proper society, and a deliciously full grown man who knew a little too well what could happen between a man and a woman given the opportunity.
Rather than try to explain to him proper etiquette, she searched for something else to say, but she became distracted at the sight of him waiting for her to say something. He held the towel around his neck in both hands, his biceps bulging. His broad shoulders tapered into a well-defined chest covered with just a line of hair in the center that led down to a flat stomach the maid could wash clothes on. Upon noticing how much she was staring at him, Erik grew uncomfortable and prompted,
"Well?" But she had seen the blush in the half of his face not covered. She smiled and shook her head. The boy in him was confused and not understanding why she was admiring the man in him. He had no clue how attractive he was. Perhaps it had something to do with whatever lay beneath that curious mask he always wore? Before she had merely concluded it was merely to cover up a scar or something. Now she wondered if it prevented Erik from seeing anything else about himself except for what was under the mask. She decided to give him a hint of her musings by saying with a wicked grin,
"Whenever a young lady is with a well-cut chap like yourself, rumors are born. And rumors can ruin a young lady. Now, we are sitting down to breakfast. I understand there should be a razor in the bathroom. I suppose you want to shave?"
"I do, but I can't." he said looking to the floor.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I used to go out every night and have a private barber shave me. But he died." said Erik.
"Well if you are more comfortable with someone else shaving you, I can send Jean Claude in to..."
"The barber shaved me in dim candlelight. He barely saw my face...NO ONE can ever see my face, Mademoiselle." Erik stressed to her. Now more curious than ever to what lay underneath that white leather, she asked softly having an idea of the answer,
"And why can't you just shave yourself?" The boy in him returned and he kicked his toes into the carpet as he admitted embarrassingly,
"I don't know how..." She nodded, her mouth forming an 'O' as she said,
"I'll see what I can do..." Giving his Adonis form the once over just once more, she left and went down the stairs to join her employers in the dining room for breakfast. Andre was practically attacking his eggs as he chopped them up on his plate, while Firmin only nibbled on his toast occasionally while scouring the morning papers. Andre stood at her entrance, only to poke Firmin to do the same a second later as he said cheerfully,
"Bon jour Mademoiselle. Did you sleep any?"
"Very well Mousier." she said going to her seat as Andre pulled out her chair for her and Firmin sat down taking up the newspaper again saying,
"I can imagine so after such a late night!" Andre leaned towards her as if sharing a bit of gossip,
"I for one, could hardly close my eyes. The excitement of having the infamous Phantom in the same house, discovering a few of his secrets; I find it all very thrilling!" She furrowed her brow,
"The infamous Phantom? Is that the only name you knew him by?"
"There was also "Opera Ghost" or "O.G." And once or twice as "the Angel of Music"!" answered Firmin with sarcasm lacing his tone.
"Mousiers, I must know. What is this man, who you claim to be brilliant beyond understanding, doing living under the Opera House pretending to be a specter?" she asked. The two men exchanged dubious glances before Andre answered,
"Since we know him a bit now, I say you must ask him. I will say those involved came to realize that he was in a way a victim of society."
"Does the answer lie beneath his mask?" asked Antoinette.
"It does." admitted Andre.
"You've both seen his face then?" she asked.
"I warn you Antoinette. Don't ask about it." said Andre with seriousness. Antoinette nodded and allowed herself to be served by Jean Claude, who asked,
"Will Mousier Erik be coming down for breakfast soon, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, where is our old friend? Building another booby trap?" asked Firmin dryly shuffling the papers.
"Actually sir, he is still dressing. And he is having problems with his morning toilet." she said tactfully.
"Oh? Such as?" asked Andre.
"He won't permit anyone to shave him, Mousier." she told him.
"Well, can't he do it himself?" laughed Andre.
"He doesn't know how, sir." said Antoinette. Firmin looked at her,
"That's ridiculous! How can a thirty-year-old man not know how to shave?" She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward,
"Mousier, who taught you how to shave?"
"Well my father of..." Then Firmin looked to his secretary and then his partner catching on to what she was implying.
"Oh..." he said sheepishly. Then he made a decision and folded the paper on the table before standing and exiting saying,
"Well, this changes now." A few minutes later, Erik opened the door that someone had knocked on to find Firmin on the other side.
"What do you want?" he asked suspiciously.
"Mlle. Carone tells me you were never taught how to shave?" asked Firmin. Erik sighed and stepped aside gesturing for him to come in.
"Thank you. Hmm...having difficulty finding something to wear?" asked Firmin looking to the mess around him. Erik closed the door,
"Mlle. Carone tells me we are to go to your office this morning. Can't hardly expect to make such an open appearance in public looking like a pauper, can I?" Firmin took a guess,
"Or perhaps impress a certain young secretary...?" Erik eyed him,
"What are you suggesting Mousier?" Firmin shook his head,
"Nothing, not a thing. It just seems curious to me that a man who claimed to only love one woman for the rest of his days wouldn't try to take such pride in his appearance around another...that's all."
"I'm taking pride in my appearance so I won't be recognized by any policeman on their patrol. Not to impress any beautiful assistants!" snapped Erik glaring at the older man. Firmin only smiled at Erik's unknown slip and said,
"In that case you'd better shave before you are picked up for being a vagabond. But first, you'll have to take off that mask..." Erik hesitated and then raised his hand to slip the mask off. Firmin stiffened but said,
"Come. Time to teach you something every man should know." M. Firmin took Erik into the bath and helped him lather up his face. He showed Erik how to sharpen the blade, and the proper way to hold it. Then he stood by his side showing him how to take cautious strokes first against his Adam's apple, then along his neck, around the chin, on the upper lip and finally on the sides. Erik only nicked himself twice and stood in amazement at his familiar features as he wiped his face off with a towel. Firmin was picking up clothes in the other room and throwing them off the bed when he asked,
"So why couldn't you use all that money you got out of the managers to buy a new wardrobe?"
"I never used that money for clothes. I would take extra fabric from the seamstresses and make my own clothes." answered Erik.
"I wondered why their budget was so huge..." muttered Firmin in his dry tone as he put a chair in the center of the room. Erik came out wiping his hands,
"After the fire, I had to make due with what I had. Couldn't risk going out just then. And even when I could take the risk, the banker I dealt with froze my account demanding I wait until the Opera Ghost was mere legend. So I wore my clothes to rags. I guess I also fell out of step with the current fashions."
"Sit down. How did you keep up before?" asked Firmin as Erik sat.
"Mostly copied the regular Opera goers, the patrons...the stuff shirt managers..." said Erik with a sly half smirk as Firmin bristled. He went on to say,
"I blended those styles with what the costumer thought up for each production and I found my taste. What are you doing?"
"I come from a poor family of six brothers. We had to learn how to cut each other's hair. You could stand a trim yourself. If I may?" said Firmin holding up the scissors. Erik sighed looking ahead,
"You've already meddled enough this morning...so why not?" Firmin began to cut the long locks and silence fell between them before Firmin asked unsurely,
"So...do you mind if I ask how you came to...look the way you do?"
"If you are expecting some grand tale, you'll be disappointed. I was born this way. A mask was my first piece of clothing." said Erik bitterly.
"Speaking of clothing, I'd thought we'd stop by a tailor and pick up some new clothes for you. And do you want to go to a wig maker as well?" asked Firmin putting the scissors aside and brushing some stray hair off Erik's neck with the towel.
"You want to spend money on me?" asked Erik looking at the hair that now fell past his ears in the mirror.
"Just consider it part of your reward for helping us." said Firmin preparing to leave.
"I still get an equal cut, Firmin!" warned Erik picking up his mask. Firmin twitched his mustache and then snapped his fingers and dug through his pockets.
"Oh! Almost forgot. Found this in the attic for you." he said taking out a small black patch of cloth tied on a string. Erik took it and asked,
"An eye patch?"
"My ex-wife went as a pirate wench to a masque once. I'd thought that be less conspicuous than your mask." said Firmin. Erik asked as if Firmin was a fool,
"Why should you hang on to old costumes from a masque?" Firmin took one remaining outfit from Erik's trunk and threw it on the bed. It was the last suit next to the one Erik wore that still looked new. It was a blood red velvet with a long cape.
"Why indeed." said Firmin before making his exit. Erik picked up the old costume and was instantly reminded of a glittering night where he appeared as Red Death. An image of a beautiful innocent creature with wild chestnut locks and large brown eyes in a vision of pink came before him. He had yanked the ring she wore on a chain off and hissed at her,
"Your chains are still mine! You belong to me!" Looking back, he remembered her look of curious longing was quickly replaced with fear as he had towered over her. Of all the sins he had committed, that one thing he regretted most. It hit him with an amazing clarity that he had suspected was beginning to build up after five years. He had never truly loved Christine. He had been in love with the idea of love. Even when she had kissed him, he felt he didn't enjoy it as much as he should have. He had cried and let go as a reaction purely out of realizing she could never love him. Now he wondered if he was even meant to love. His mind told him that with his face it'd never happen, but his heart kept asking why he kept wanting it to happen if he wasn't meant to? He threw on his jacket and sighed, then put on the eye patch Firmin gave him. It looked alright on him. It was a little large, so it covered almost all of his deformity anyway. He sighed again and went downstairs. Time to join humanity.
Although Antoinette was quite put out with having to stop at a tailor shop for a few hours, she did relish the experience of helping refurbish the mysterious Erik's wardrobe. The place they went to, was not a traditional tailor. M. Pontiblu had the novel idea that clothes should be made in a certain size before hand, so they are ready for the customer to wear. No one of Parisian society expected it to really catch on, but it was convenient and novel to go to his shop. Although he tried not to show it, Erik was lost when it came to dealing with people he didn't know. Antoinette had seen it the moment M. Pontiblu greeted them at the door. When Firmin explained the situation, M. Pontiblu took a reluctant Erik by the arm and eagerly pulled him into the dressing room saying,
"My oh my! Darling what an absolute joy! We don't often fit such well proportioned and tall fellows like yourself! You are every tailor's dream, Darling!"
The three of them sat in the salon waiting for Erik to come out. M. Pontiblu came out and asked excitingly,
"My oh My! What a shy young man! Tell me, do the ladies just love him during the Season?" Antoinette stiffed a giggle with her hand, as Andre answered carefully,
"Uh...actually...he's never had a proper debut..." M. Pontiblu gasped in exaggeration, putting a hand to his chest,
"Horrors! You must let me take him to Madame Jacquard's high tea next week! I dare say none of the young debutantes have had a decent looking suitor available to them in ages!"
"I'm sorry M. Pontiblu, but Mousier Erik is to accompany us to England for a case." apologized Antoinette.
"You think him handsome, Pontiblu?" asked Firmin.
"Well, he's a little rough around the edges, but overall he's a very appealing figure of a man. Tell me, the scarring peeking out on his fore head, was that from a war or something? Because a war hero would make him all the more dashing to willing young ladies." asked Pontiblu. Firmin and Andre quickly said at once,
"HuntingaccidentRapiddog" Then they looked at each other as Andre cleared his throat and said to cover up,
"Yes... a tragedy really. One of the hounds turned rapid and attacked him during a fox hunt!"
"Horrors! Well at least he still looks handsome. And that eye patch! It makes him look so...acceptingly dangerous!" said Pontiblu. Antoinette smiled to herself. She had to admit when Erik finally arrived just in time to make a quick breakfast of toast and bacon, she had found the eye patch enticing on him. And when they stopped at the wig makers earlier, and he had chosen a simple black wig to cover his hair and receding hairline on the right; she found herself entertaining devilish fantasies that would make a Lady of the Night blush.
"Acceptingly dangerous, Mousier?" she asked with an amused grin. He looked at her and said,
"You know my dear. Just honorable to be accepted into society but sinfully good looking enough to make him dangerous to all Dowager mothers who wish their daughters to marry men who would never attract a mistress or two!" Antoinette joined in his feminine laughter, when Erik stepped out dressed in a dark chocolate suit and deep cream shirt. Antoinette smiled at his obvious blushing, and the thought that he looked good enough to eat, while Firmin acknowledged,
"Not bad, Ol'boy."
"Very handsome." she said seeing him take on a confused look. Pontiblu smiled slowly at Antoinette,
"My oh my! Those ladies of society may have to get in line behind Mlle. Toni Carone!"
"Go on Erik, change into something else!" said Andre as Erik unsurely went back into the dressing rooms. Seven day suits, two tuxedos, three cloaks and twenty jewel tone shirts later, Erik finally came out in a smart violet waistcoat over a white shirt, a plum cravat and brown pants with a dark brown leather overcoat over that. He handed the old clothes he came in with to Antoinette as Firmin wrote out a check. Erik whispered,
"That was an experience I'd rather forget!" Amused she asked,
"Why? Don't you feel better having new clothes?"
"It was that Pontiblu! If he weren't a man, I'd swear he was flirting with me!" hissed Erik. She laughed softly,
"He WAS flirting with you. I'm surprised that a man who lived in a theater of all places never heard or saw two men shall we say, becoming more than friends?" Erik furrowed his brow in thought,
"Now that I think of it, I did see more than my share of ballet rats share the same bed in compromising positions."
"Erik! How scandalous to watch young ladies while sleeping!" she scolded. But he heard the teasing lilt to her voice.
"I was simply making sure they were in their beds and not snooping about my opera late at night so that I could roam freely." he said with a betraying smile.
"Yeah right!" she said dryly before giving her instructions to M. Pontiblu to have the rest of the clothes delivered to their house and give a note of her instructions to Jean Claude. They left Pontiblu's and decided to walk the remaining three blocks. That was when Erik began to catch passing young women giving him, not Firmin, not Andre, but HIM, lingering glances followed or accompanied by a smile and a giggle. He asked Andre,
"What are they staring at?" Andre chuckled,
"You Mousier. It would appear in your current state of dress, you are quite pleasant to the female eye!"
"M. Pontiblu certainly thought so. I recall him calling you decent looking, handsome, appealing and acceptingly dangerous! And he thought you'd be the catch of the year for young debutants." said Firmin with a grin.
"Me?" asked Erik skeptically.
"Well of course Erik! And speaking as a female, I must admit I agree with him. You do present a dashing figure any girl would swoon over." said Antoinette on his arm. The muscles in his neck twitched and he said forcefully,
"If they knew what was under this silly eye patch they wouldn't."
"Actually, Pontiblu has an idea. He thinks you were mauled by hunting hounds." said Firmin.
"And where did he assume such a thing I wonder?" asked Erik dryly looking over the two of them.
"We had to tell him something!" said Andre. Erik sighed,
"I'm just not used to the attention I suppose."
"Well get use to it. For I have a feeling we may have to fight off dowagers and their wedding minded daughters with sticks for the next few weeks!" said Firmin leading them inside a large limestone office building. Erik stopped Antoinette on the stairs and asked,
"Mlle. Carone, I heard M. Pontiblu call you 'Toni'. Why did he do that?"
"Ever since I started working for M. Andre and M. Firmin, he's tried to groom me to be a proper debutant. He likes to do that. That's the other reason he was so exited about dressing you today. He has a mind to take you under his wing as well! Anyway, I've grown familiar enough with him to count him as a casual friend. And I allow all my friends call me 'Toni'. A simple matter." she told him.
"But Andre and Firmin don't and you live in their house."
"Well I work for them, Mousier. It's hardly proper for them to call me by my Christian name less my nickname." she said as if it were obvious. He looked at his feet and said,
"I don't know why, but I feel as if I want to call you 'Toni'. " For the first time in her short acquaintance with the man, she truly allowed a blush to crept into her smiling cheeks. She turned to walk inside saying,
"We shall see Mousier. We shall see."
Andre and Firmin were waiting for them inside and that was when Erik was introduced to the invention called the elevator. A clever piece of engineering that took people up a few flights in a steel chamber worked by pulleys and levers. When they came to their floor, Antoinette had to pull Erik out of the elevator he was trying to inspect. Antoinette was instantly charmed at how quickly he went back and forth from the ignorant boy overflowing with curiosity and shyness to the rakish man who knew his way around flattery. They came to a door painted with 'Andre and Firmin Investigations' on it. Erik quirked a brow as Firmin unlocked the door and lead them into the simple pair of rooms. One with a small desk for Antoinette and a couch for waiting clients, and then the office with two sets of desks facing each other. Some newspapers were strew about with old headlines in the society column describing the pair's exposure of such public scandals as blackmail, adultery and embezzling. Erik would never admit it but he was impressed they had done this well. But as they went about their morning routine, the partners reading their mail and Antoinette sending out messengers to arrange their trip to England, Erik read how their methods consisted mainly of party gossip sewn together until they formed the facts. Not true detective work as of yet. However, he was certain that would change with his influence. Finally, they finished their tasks and Firmin rubbed his hands together saying,
"Right then! Let's review the case once more, so we can start putting our heads together aye?"
"Right! Mlle. Carone! The Lord's letter please!" said Andre getting up and calling Antoinette from the other room.
"Oui Mousier!" she said pulling the items out of her purse. She entered and laid them on the table to which the three men bent over. Firmin picked up the letter and said,
"First the Lord's letter. He writes,
'Mousiers,
On the sixteenth day of June of this current year, my head gardener, John Canter died while tending to the flower beds on the east side of my family manor. He was eighty years old, so to die of natural causes is no great surprise. But what puzzled me and scared the wits out of my staff and wife, was the fact he was found enclosed in a circle of flames. The local constable did investigate the matter, but dropped the case as soon as the coroner determined John's heart just stopped. I am lost without any light Mousiers. I have heard of your recent successes in Paris and I wish to commission you to come to my home, Dogwood Grove and find whoever is responsible for this tomfoolery. Money is no object.
Sincerely,
Lord Charles Wittingham Bowler the III
P.S. I have enclosed the photographs the local constable had taken during the investigation.
When Firmin finished reading, Erik looked at the photographs and said,
"Curious."
"What is?" asked Andre.
"Why would the local authorities give crime scene photographs to the victim? Wouldn't they keep it as part of their records?" asked Erik.
"This came from a small village in county Sussex. Small towns are bound to be a little more loose as far as legalities. You heard how the constable didn't even try to find any hint of foul play!" said Firmin.
"True, but still something is not right about that. First thing we want to do is make a list of which we wish to interview. Who found the body? Was this fire ring there when they found it? Did Canter have any enemies?" rattled off Erik.
"Mlle. Carone, start your shorthand!" ordered Firmin paying close attention.
"And you might also wish to ask where they got kerosene from. Can't be too many uses for it in the country." said Antoinette.
"What about what we see in these?" asked Andre holding up the photographs of multiple angles of the dead body. Erik shook his head,
"The flame wasn't burning when this was taken so we can't determine that much just by looking at this. And this letter was written over a month ago so the scorch marks may not even be there!"
"What about looking at the clothes he was wearing at the time of his death? Surely they would have some kerosene splashes or smoke residue on them." said Antoinette. Erik looked her in the eye,
"You do love a good mystery don't you?" She smiled as Firmin said,
"But what was the motive? Why make a natural death, look like a murder?"
"As a warning to his Lordship perhaps. Someone who wants the household to leave so they could get a hold of the house or something on the land. We won't know anything until we get there." said Erik. Then came a knock on the door, which Antoinette went to answer saying,
"It must be the tickets arriving!" But she was disappointed to see a short, plump old woman with amber hair and black mourning clothes barge in and say,
"Are the detectives in, Mam'selle?"
"Oh God in heaven!" said Firmin throwing his hands up in the air.
"Hide!" whispered Andre scrambling under his desk.
"Madame Richard, please. The gentlemen can't take your case!" said Antoinette pleading after the matron as she burst into the office.
"I'm telling you all, my late husband Roland is alive! I've seen him and I wish for you to find him!" she demanded. Firmin stepped forward,
"And we have told you, Madame. We looked into the matter and the county medical examiner, the police, and the priest who gave him his last rites all swore up and down that he was dead! Now, good day Madame. We are terribly busy!"
"I saw what I saw! Now you...hullo, who's this?' asked the widow upon seeing Erik. Firmin stammered,
"This? Oh this is Erik...our new...um...our new..."
"Assistant!" offered Antoinette.
"Yes, he assists us in our cases." said Firmin.
"Does he have a last name? It is not proper to address a man by his Christian name upon just meeting him!" said Madame Richard suspiciously.
"Certainly...it's uh..." said Firmin begging for help with his eyes to Antoinette over the widow's head. Erik spoke up,
"DuL'Soir." Antoinette smiled at his cleaver thinking,
"Yes...this is Mousier Erik DuL'Soir. Mousier DuL'Soir, this is Madame Josephine Richard."
"M. DuL'Soir. When I was a girl, it was considered very rude for a gentleman to sit on the furniture while ladies were standing!" Erik looked to Firmin who motioned for him to get off the desk. He did but not without replying,
"My apologies Madame. I suppose times have just changed since Cleopatra was in power!" A distinct thump was heard under Andre's desk, which raised off the ground two inches. Firmin and Antoinette just stared at Erik with their jaws to the floor as Madame Richard glared at the young man and said,
"Of all the impertinence! Good day M. Firmin!" Then she turned on her heel and stomped out of the office.
"And good riddens!" said Firmin still in shock.
"Bravo Erik! Well done!" said Antoinette crossing over to pat his forearm.
"Is it safe to come out?" called Andre still under the desk.
"Yes, you stupid fool!" said Firmin with a roll of his eyes and Antoinette laughed. As the morning progressed into making a list of questions to ask and of everything they could see in the photographs, Erik got this distinct feeling that so long as he was associated with these three, his life would very interesting.
That night, Erik's new clothes were packed in his bags, and the old ones were being used for kindling. All except the suit he had worn that morning, his old cape, and the Red Death costume. He never thought he was one for sentiment. But they were tucked into the trunk just the same. He couldn't sleep, so he went downstairs, hoping to find a book. What he found was Antoinette, in her dressing gown, looking out at the night sky on the living room terrace.
"Mam'selle?" asked Erik softly. She jumped a little, but smiled at him and wrapped her robe tighter about herself and whispered,
"Goodness Mousier. You certainly know how to creep in the shadows don't you?"
"You have no idea. What are you doing?" he said coming to join her. As he sat on the railing, she said,
"I love looking at the night sky. As a child I would make a wish on every star." He looked up and said,
"I would too when I could see it outside my cage."
"Cage? Erik, exactly what did those gypsies do to you?" she said in concern. He tensed and said,
"Nothing that matters now."
"It matters to you." she said. He got up and left saying,
"Goodnight Mlle. Carone." Antoinette sighed and resolved to find out what in Erik's past haunted him still.
The next day they got on the ship bound for England after a long morning on the roads to the coastline. M. Andre was seasick for most of the voyage and M. Firmin spent most of his time flirting with a young American widow. Antoinette spent most of her time trying to convince Erik to come out of his cabin. Why he preferred dark, damp places was beyond her. Finally, in the next few days, they found themselves bouncing along in a carriage set out for Sussex.
"If I never sail again, it should be too soon!" said Andre wiping his brow with his handkerchief. Firmin meanwhile, inhaled the perfumed calling card the American gave him and said,
"I found the trip quite pleasant! What about you Mam'selle?" Antoinette eyed Erik and said,
"It could have been better if I had more company!" Erik kept looking out of the window. Ever since the night she had asked him about his past, Erik was determined to keep their relationship professional. And when the case was solved, he'd part their company. At least that was what he was trying to tell himself while glancing out of the corner of his eye at the curves under her blue traveling dress. Soon the carriage slowed and turned a corner into a long drive. Out the window, Erik saw a stately stone manor, five stories high. When they pulled to a stop, a middle aged butler came from the house and greeted them upon getting stepping down from the carriage.
"Mousiers Firmin and Andre, I presume?" he asked.
"Yes, I am Firmin and this is my partner M. Andre. And these are our assistants, Mlle. Carone and M. DuL'Soir. Is his Lordship at home?" said Firmin whisking off his hat. The butler took on a sour expression and said,
"I'm not sure how to tell you this, Mousier...but his Lordship was murdered last night."