All That I Can Do
The engagement of le Vicomte de Chagny to Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry had soon been announced in L'Epoque, and the wedding set to occur in three weeks time. The Comte and Comtess had both endeavored to persuade their son into a longer engagement, although for very different reasons. The Comtess had simply wished for more time to prepare for such a momentous occasion. The Comte, however, had hoped to forestall the inevitable in the tiny remaining hope that his son would see the folly of such a union. But on this, Raoul had not relented. A hasty marriage would leave Meg less time to reconsider the wisdom of her decision…as he feared his mother's fussing and his father's sulking would certainly overwhelm her.
Upon the couple's return to Paris, Meg had informed Francois LeCleur that she would not be returning to his theater. He had been quite expecting this news, and while not pleased to be losing such a fine performer, he was greatly consoled by the fact that he had not lost her to that scoundrel Ranier. Of equal consolation to him was the return of Antoinette Giry to Paris and le Soliel.
In the weeks before the wedding, Elise de Chagny did her best to ease Meg into the new role she would be undertaking. On Meg's part, the entire process was thankfully less painful than she had anticipated, as Raoul's mother proved to be a warm accepting woman and the two began a tentative friendship. The Comtess quickly discovered the rather lively sense of humor possessed by her son's fiancée, endearing Meg to her even more. My son is far too serious at times, she had said.
In truth, Raoul had greatly abandoned much of his serious nature, a transformation that he credited entirely to Meg. And if they were both forced to behave in public in a manner befitting their status, their time alone was far less restrained. Laughter and lively little conversations were always in abundance, though finding these moments to share grew increasingly difficult amidst the hectic schedule of wedding planning and introductions to society.
Meg made her first formal appearance into society as Raoul's fiancée at the engagement party that Elise de Chagny insisted upon holding at the family estate. She had spent the entire day a nervous wreck, being reassured by Elise and Raoul, and later primped and powdered by the de Chagny maids. Meg did not relish being paraded about so that all the Parisian aristocracy could find fault with her, but she was determined to prove herself a good match for Raoul.
He stood at the bottom of the staircase awaiting her, and when he saw her, his breath caught in his throat. She wore a gown of pale blue that made her eyes sparkle, and her hair was twisted in an upsweep, leaving only a few loose tendrils falling in wisps around her face. She was stunning. He held out his hand to her as she reached the bottom step, and she took it gratefully.
"My God, Meg. You are a vision. I shall have to keep you close to me tonight."
She managed a tremulous smile. "I hope you will, Raoul. Otherwise I might be tempted to run as far and as fast as I can."
He pulled her into the circle of his arms. "Do not even jest about such things, Meg."
Meg sighed. "I suppose you would only come chasing after me and drag me back again."
Raoul grinned. "To the ends of the earth, my love. Come now, you are far braver than this, sweet Meg. Let us make all of Paris jealous tonight."
"If we must…"
He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. "I am afraid we must."
They made their way out to their guests, and the careful dance of polite banter began. Much to Meg's chagrin, she and Raoul were soon parted. The Comtess was determined to introduce her to the upper crust, and the Comte pulled his son away to speak with a business associate. Meg struggled to take in all the names and titles that Elise de Chagny recited to her, inwardly cringing at all the raised eyebrows and fake smiles. She overheard more than one whispered comment about 'the little ballet rat,' but she held her head high just as her mother had urged her to. If she could never be thought entirely suitable for the company she was in, at least no one would ever think her a fragile thing.
Caught in a tedious conversation with a Baroness someone or other, Meg was only half paying attention, her eyes searching the room for Raoul. Finding him still being monopolized by his father and looking as desperate to get away as she felt, Meg sighed and resigned herself to answer yet another question about her meager beginnings.
Across the room, Raoul glanced towards Meg again, wishing he could whisk her away from here. He had been raised attending such intolerable affairs and could barely abide them...he could not imagine what Meg must be feeling. Yet she looked to be holding her own.
"Your Marguerite is a truly an exquisite creature, Raoul. You are a lucky man indeed."
Raoul's eyes jerked back to the Marquis de Proust, a jovial older gentleman with whom his father had a long-standing friendship. "Yes, yes I am. Thank you, Henri."
Good humor danced in the older man's eyes. "If I had the good fortune to be her escort, I certainly would not be standing here talking business when she is there looking lovely." The Marquis turned to Philippe de Chagny with raised brows. "Would you Philippe, old man?"
Philippe sighed. "Go on then, Raoul. You've a fiancée to attend to."
Raoul grinned. "Yes…thank you, Father. Henri, I would be most happy to introduce you." The Marquis smiled delightedly and Raoul led him over to Meg.
Her eyes flashed with gratitude at the interruption, and she happily made the acquaintance of the Marquis, who after several moments, quite skillfully monopolized the conversation with the other ladies, leaving Raoul the opportunity to quietly sweep Meg into the garden. Finding a secluded spot, he kissed her soundly and hugged her to him.
"Tell me you are not thinking of ways to escape, sweet Meg."
She sighed. "I could, but I am afraid it would be a lie."
He chuckled. "Then you had best be planning to take me with you."
Meg grinned. "I could be persuaded."
Raoul took that as a challenge, and captured her lips again. After a moment, he pulled back slightly and smiled down at Meg. "Has tonight been very dreadful, my love?"
"Not very dreadful." She snuggled closer into his arms. "It is certainly improving. In fact, I think I will be quite content if I can stay right here and not have to answer one more question about growing up at the Opera House."
Laughter rumbled in his chest. "I hope you have not told anyone the scandalous stories you have told me."
Meg toyed with one of his lapels absentmindedly, murmuring "Mmm. No, but Madame…d'Amboise…I think it was…wanted to know all about the Opera Ghost and if I had ever come face to face with him."
Raoul paused, knowing full well that the woman Meg spoke of was one of the cattiest in Paris. Surely such a line of questioning had been intended to embarrass Meg in some way. "What did you tell her?"
Meg lifted her face to his and raised an eyebrow. "I told her that I had attended his wedding."
Raoul stared at her a moment in surprise, having learned himself not very long ago that Meg had indeed attended that particular wedding. "You didn't?"
She grinned broadly. "I did. She thought it was a grand joke."
Raoul laughed, lifting her into his arms and spinning her around. "Meg…I simply adore you."
The lovers stayed lost in one another for several more moments before reluctantly admitting that they needed to return to the party. Raoul swiftly guided Meg past his mother, father and every other person who might have distracted him from his immediate mission, which was to dance with his fiancée.
He remembered once, many months ago, a conversation where Meg had cheekily told him she preferred dancing to romance…and he had told her he would be envious of whatever partner she chose. At the time, he could not have begun to hope that she would choose him, and now that she had, he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life dancing with her.
Sweeping her into his arms, he led her in a waltz, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to watch the couple move gracefully around the floor. Including one pair of emerald green eyes that watched from a corner in silence.
A/N: A little laughter...a little dancing...some reviews?