With Starry Eyes

Raoul found himself lunching with Meg on many afternoons in the following weeks. And he was present at most of her performances. He wanted nothing more than to have the privilege of escorting her to dinner as well, but she would always refuse citing her previous commitment to her mother. And she would refuse him even on those evenings that the Theater Soliel was dark.

It only took a few repetitions of this cycle for Raoul to realize that Meg had yet to inform Madame Giry of the time she had been spending in his company. When he inquired as to why, Meg had blushed and stuttered and finally confessed that her mother would certainly not approve of their friendship. And though Raoul had hated to admit it, he knew that the older woman would certainly think him a cad for pursuing a relationship with Meg so soon after his previous closeness with Christine. Still, he could not help resenting that Meg did not even seem inclined to broach the subject with her mother at all.

Despite Meg's rather adept avoidance of her mother's prying eyes, Madame Giry did indeed stumble upon her daughter's secretive meetings with the vicomte. And she certainly was not pleased.

Raoul had been chastely bidding Meg adieu, kissing her hand and promising to attend her next performance just as he had each afternoon, when Madame Giry had unexpectedly entered the parlor. Meg had jumped guiltily away from Raoul, and he had felt the sting of that action acutely. Madame's curt greeting and dismissal of him had been no better, but Meg's eyes had begged him to just go, and so he had.

Stunned, Raoul had wandered away from the boarding house wondering why he should suddenly feel like some guilty lothario caught making love to an innocent. And then his thoughts had ground to a halt, focusing entirely on one thing…making love. To Meg. The wicked images that had come with that thought had Raoul nearly plowing into another gentleman on the sidewalk. He was highly ashamed of the path his traitorous mind had taken, still he could not force the thoughts from his head. Nor the desire from his heart. Dear God, was he…falling in love with Meg?

xXx

Meanwhile, Meg had been battling her own shame, yet hardly understanding why she should. Her mother had dismissed the Vicomte de Chagny from her presence as if he was a common thief.

"Just what do you think that you are doing, child?"

"Maman, please, it isn't what you are thinking?"

"No? Did I not just see you being made love to in broad daylight by le Vicomte?"

Meg turned red. Made love to?

"Maman! He was kissing my hand, as every gentleman does! It was merely a gesture of friendship."

"Friendship? Meg, are you truly so naïve as to ignore the blatant intent in a man's eyes?"

Intent? Was she serious?

"Raoul has no intent to misuse me, Maman. We are only friends, engaging in some pleasant conversation from time to time."

"On what subject?"

Meg cringed inwardly. "You know what subject, Maman." She shook her head and sighed. "He still loves Christine. He only needs to speak to someone who will understand."

Antoinette eyed her daughter carefully, wondering if Meg even realized the affection with which she spoke of le vicomte. "And do you understand, Meg?"

The meaning in her mother's tone was unmistakable. He will never care for you, child. Do not let him compromise all your hard work.

"Yes, Maman. I understand. Don't worry so. I am not some innocent little lamb in need of rescue."

Meg kissed her mother softly on the cheek, and made her way towards the upstairs. And Antoinette could not help but worry that her only daughter may be more in need of rescue than ever before.

xXx

When Raoul attended that evening's performance at le Soliel, his mind was still occupied with thoughts of Meg. He was suddenly questioning his every intention towards her. At first, she had merely been Christine's friend with whom he'd shared a few rather pleasant little talks. He had sought her out after Christine's departure for that very reason--their shared link to Christine. But it had not been long before he'd begun to think of Meg as his friend. And now he cared very deeply for her. But was it love?

Certainly, he'd realized from the start that she was a beautiful woman. Unlike Christine's quiet ethereal beauty, Meg radiated a vibrant loveliness both in appearance and spirit. Her blue eyes were always alit with good humor and intelligence, and Raoul had found himself drowning in them on more than one occasion. Had that ever happened with Christine?

No--he realized sourly--Christine's eyes had always been filled with sadness and secrets. Even when she'd looked upon him with love, there had been shadows in the dark depths of her eyes. The Phantom's shadow, Raoul was certain.

Meg's eyes held no secrets from him--indeed--he felt as though he could see into her very soul. And her soul called out to him on some mysterious level that he did not fully understand. He only knew that being near her seemed to ease something within him.

At least, he had been at ease. Until he had begun to engage in fantasies of holding her close to him, tasting her sweet lips with his own. Now his body was laced with tension and his heart dancing wildly. Seeing her upon the stage, dressed in a rather revealing costume cut a little too low at the top and a little to high at the bottom, did nothing to relieve his current state of unrest.

But finding Madame Giry standing guard outside Meg's dressing room after the performance certainly worked wonders at halting his improper thoughts.

Raoul politely smiled and made a little bow, but the woman just arched one eyebrow and looked down her nose at him. He cleared his throat a little. "Madame Giry. A pleasure to see you again."

"Monsieur le Vicomte. I trust you enjoyed tonight's performance."

"Yes, Madame, very much indeed."

"And may I assume that both your presence at this dressing room and the bouquet in your hand are intended to congratulate my daughter on her dancing this evening?"

Raoul felt his face color at her condescending tone. "You may, Madame."

"Then I am certain, Monsieur, that you must realize by now the great talent that she possesses. Her career is truly beginning to flourish, and I would hate for her to be…distracted."

Her pointed look left no misunderstanding her meaning.

Raoul's spine stiffened, and his voice grew a touch defensive. "Madame, I would never dream of interfering with Meg's career. I believe you must have misunderstood our friendship."

She glared at him slightly. "Have I, Monsieur?"

Raoul forced a calm he didn't feel. "I assure you my intentions are purely honorable, Madame."

"See that they remain so. Good evening, monsieur." And with that she walked away, leaving Raoul staring down dejectedly at the pink roses in his hand.

Madame Giry's warning had been obvious. Do not disrupt Meg's career.

Raoul growled, clenching his fist around the flower stems. His intentions with Meg were honorable! He would never do anything to harm her. And he knew how much she loved to dance.

Suddenly he felt all of his anger slip away. Of course, Meg loved to dance. Even Raoul's honorable intentions would be unwelcome. Christine had balked at the idea of giving up the stage, certainly Meg would be no more accepting of the notion. He shook his head sadly, thinking himself a fool to have become so quickly attached.

When the dressing room door opened just moments later, Meg found Raoul staring oddly at the roses in his hand, and her heart gave a little jump.

"Raoul?"

His eyes came up slowly, and the sadness there had her immediately concerned. But before she could comment, the melancholy cleared and was replaced by a warmth that robbed Meg of all thought.

"Meg. I…you were…quite exquisite tonight."

She blushed prettily. "Thank you."

Raoul continued to stare at her, taking in every delicate line of her face. Meg's smile quivered just a little under his scrutiny, and she laughed nervously. "The roses are lovely."

Raoul shook himself. The roses, idiot!

"For you, of course." He handed them to her, and as she took them, her fingers brushed his. A little spark of electricity shot the length of his arm.

Meg breathed in the sweet scent of the roses and a sensual delight passed over her features. Then she smiled cheekily at Raoul. "You really need not bring me flowers, Raoul. I am perfectly content with outrageous praise of my wondrous skill and grace."

Raoul laughed heartily, bowed grandly. "Then mademoiselle, let me shower you with compliments."

Their happy laughter carried through the hallways, turning a good number of heads. Madame Giry watched from a little distance, shaking her head and silently bidding adieu to all the dreams she had held for her daughter on the stage.

xXx

That evening marked a change in the couple's routine. Antoinette Giry's discovery of the growing bond between them provided an opportunity that Meg had not previously permitted. And Raoul finally had the pleasure of escorting her to dinner.

The only shadow over his happiness was her mother's obvious displeasure. Raoul could not help but feel the need to win Madame Giry's good favor, and so he sought Meg's advice in the carriage.

"Meg, you know how much I enjoy your company. But I do not like thinking that I might have caused some difficulty between you and your mother."

Meg smiled reassuringly. "You have caused nothing, Raoul. Maman is only a little overprotective of me. She…" Meg blushed a little, and looked away, seeming to struggle with some decision. Then she returned her liquid gaze to him. "I must tell you something, and you must promise you will not think less of me. Or of Maman."

Raoul was memorized by the urgent determination in Meg's eyes, and his protective instincts were immediately aroused. "On my honor, Meg. Nothing could make me think less of you."

Meg drew a breath, looking deeply into his clear blue eyes. She believed him. "Maman danced at the Opera when she was younger. She had a promising career, and could have gone far. But then she met my father. He…he was a musician. They were both very young and in love and…" Meg paused again, and blushed a little more before rushing on. "They had to be married, Raoul."

Meg looked to Raoul, seeing only understanding in his faithful gaze. "I suppose she transferred her dreams for herself onto me. And they are my dreams as well, so it hasn't been a hardship. But she sees herself in me, I think, and doesn't wish for me to make her mistakes again."

Raoul nodded slowly. If Madame Giry's words to him on this subject had not been message enough, Meg's confession was enough to dampen his overeager emotions. He must proceed carefully with this…friendship. He could never be responsible for taking away Meg's dreams.

xXx

Raoul had made a conscious effort put a little distance between himself and Meg in the following days. He had informed her of a need to return to his family's estate on business, and it had not been strictly a ruse. He had been neglecting his duties in order to spend time with Meg, and if she had been distressed by his announcement, she had not made her displeasure known to him. A fact that had disheartened the vicomte even more.

In fact, Meg had been upset by his withdrawal from her, convinced that her confession had driven him away. What had she been thinking, telling a nobleman about her own illicit beginnings? Of course he would not wish to continue their…what? It was not as if they were engaged in some grand romance. Raoul's heart, Meg was certain, still belonged solely to Christine...and if her own heart was wanting more, well, she had warned herself not fall in love with him. The problem, of course, was that she really hadn't had a choice in the matter.