Author's Note: Actually, with the exception of Poligny's brief appearance in the chapter, I think everyone here belongs to me for once!!
WARNING, there will be graphic thoughts of suicide in this chapter so for those who may be bothered by this, please do not read the third passage of this chapter.
The Patron of the Opera – Chapter Ten
For the first time in over four years, Enoch Ardenson held his love in his arms as he spun her about in a reel. He prayed that his leg would not fail him and that she would not notice the fingers of his gloves that were filled with cotton where flesh and bone had once been. Each time she turned and faced away from him, he checked that his mask was securely in place.
'She must not see...I must not let her know...'
But having her again in his arms laughing and smiling as she walked through the steps with him, for she had allowed him to lead and had danced slowly so that he could keep up with her without effort, was an experience that he had longed for for nearly five years. In what seemed like both seconds and a lifetime, the dance came to an end. Although his leg ached from his slight exertions, he was pained much more by the knowledge that this reel would be his last dance with the woman he loved more than life itself.
He bowed to her curtsy, willing away the tears that had begun to burn at the corners of his eyes. She raised herself in front of him, still smiling behind the veil. "As I said before, Mr. Simmons, it takes a true Southerner to dance the reel properly. I thank you for the dance."
He couldn't bear to look at her. To look at her and see her smiling at him brought back memories of happier times which were more painful to him now than any other injury that he had ever suffered.
He kept his gaze upon the ground as he offered her his arm to escort her from the dance floor and felt a shiver of pleasure rush through him as she accepted it without hesitation and wound her small, warm arm through his.
"I don't know about you, Mr. Simmons, but I would love a drink. Would you perhaps care for some champagne?"
"Not particularly, my lady, but I shall fetch you a glass should you desire one."
They walked over to the refreshment table where she took a glass of champagne and accepted one of the small cakes offered by a waiter. She lifted her veil and for the first time in over five years, he had the opportunity to study her face closely. She looked as beautiful as she had years before, although time and sorrow had left their mark upon her countenance in the paleness of her cheeks and the faint lines appearing at the corners of her lips and eyes. But despite this, he still found her to be the most beautiful woman in attendance that evening.
"So, Mr. Simmons, you said that you were from Charleston. How on earth did you find your way to Paris?" she asked, her green eyes smiling and her expression open, welcoming, and interested.
"I…I had come here to work, my lady. I travel to where I can find employment."
"But surely you could have found better work in the United States. Do you enjoy traveling, Mr. Simmons?"
"I once did. And you, my lady, do you enjoy your travels?"
"I adore them. It always was a dream of mine to travel and I never believed that I would be able to do so."
"Why did you believe that?"
"I am an orphan, Mr. Simmons. I lived off of charity for the majority of my life; there was no way that I could have afforded to travel."
'And you would never have been able to afford it had you married me…' Enoch thought bitterly. Wishing to change the subject to a happier one, he asked "Which city was your favorite, my lady?"
"St. Malo, that is for certain. Even though it is cold and gray, I adored the city. It was truly beautiful, a romantic's paradise. How far have you traveled?"
The two fell into a comfortable conversation by the refreshment table as another reel played. They laughed at each other's stories and before either had realized it, the two were conversing as freely and as pleasantly as they had in the years before; each unconsciously baiting the other for amusement. Rose took another glass of champagne and, deciding that a better conversation could be held out in the foyer of the opera, the two went outside to one of the balconies surrounding the grand staircase and continued their talk.
Enoch had completely forgotten how it had felt to be around Rose; for five years he had adored her from afar but he had truly forgotten that how in a few minutes, she could make him feel more alive than he had for ages. Their teasing and bantering continued and neither was aware that they truly had fallen into their routine of the past; both felt alive and rejuvenated and it felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted off of both of their souls by the laughter of the moment.
After twenty minutes of such behavior, Enoch had forgotten the matter of his hands and face. He had forgotten about his misery, about his self-imposed sacrifice and instead preferred to live for the moment with the woman he loved. He loved watching her perfect lips part with laughter, felt empowered by knowing that it was he who caused her emerald eyes to sparkle with merriment. However, his guard was let down and he became incautious. After one of her jokes, he replied with a comment that he had often teased her with in their better days.
"Mr. Simmons, I've often been told that sarcasm is quite unbecoming in a lady. Surely you wouldn't be inclining me to such unladylike behavior!"
"My dear Rose, I must commend myself for your amazing progress."
And with that said, he stroked the line of her chin with his gloved hand. Those words and his touch completely broke the spell that had fallen over the two and Rose's laughing, sparkling eyes froze. In less than a second, her entire expression went from one of happiness and amusement to a severe, calculating glare. Meanwhile, Enoch stared with horror at his gloved hand as he pulled it away from her cheek; he had forgotten about it. He had forgotten everything and looked to Rose, praying to all deities that she would not catch his mistake.
One of the gods was on his side as the orchestra started to play the next waltz in those few seconds of horrible silence. As the opening chords sounded, Rose's exacting gaze lifted off of him and looked up to the mosaic ceilings. Her lips parted with a sigh and she whispered brokenly "Oh, dear God..." Enoch stared at her as she turned as white as a ghost and her eyes filled with tears.
Not able to bear her tears, he risked questioning her. "My lady...are you well? What is the matter?"
A violin solo began in the ballroom and immediately, Enoch knew the cause of her pain. The song was the waltz that they had planned to be their first dance as husband and wife; a simple melody accentuated by the violin solo that Enoch had once adored playing. Recalling this as he beheld her in her bridal attire, a wave of pain nearly overcame him and he pulled away from her. She looked to him questioningly and then sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I apologize, Mr. Simmons...this waltz, you see, was to be my wedding waltz a long time ago; the first waltz to be played at my wedding with my American soldier. He didn't come home."
She replaced her veil and turned to leave. Unthinkingly, Enoch reached out to her and brushed his gloved hand over her shoulder.
"Lady O'Connor...please wait."
She turned to him and looked up into his mask. He gently took her hands in his and looked into the tearful eyes behind the veil and continued to whisper.
"Your soldier...you loved him, did you not?"
"What? What business of it is yours if I did?"
"Your soldier would've…he would have wanted you to be happy. He would not have wanted you to remember him only with sadness and regret."
"I know he would've wished me happiness."
"You are not happy then? You are not happy with the baron?"
"That is none of your concern, Mr. Simmons." She answered coldly, pulling her hands from his.
"Please," he begged, his voice increasingly becoming more inarticulate as he became more flustered. "I did not mean to offend you. Please forgive me…"
She turned back to him and with eyes overflowing with tears answered him in a voice half broken with pain. "You wish to know the truth? Yes, I loved him. I love him still. He was everything to me; my life and my soul. I do not desire to live without him and yet I must so that we can be together someday."
Again she made to leave but Enoch called out to her. "Would you still have loved your soldier if he had been changed by the battles, my lady?"
She turned toward him, her eyes swimming with tears as pain and anguish were reflected in her gaze. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"If he had been changed. If he had been forced to do horrible things in order to serve his country. If he had been wounded as a result of these things…would you still have loved him?"
"I would have loved him regardless of anything."
"Even if he were wounded…mangled and disfigured. If he were a ruined man, would you have loved him still?"
"I loved him. I love him. None of that would have mattered."
Heartened by the sign that she still cared enough to remember him, he decided to take a chance. He walked toward her and stiffly bowing before her, asked in a low tone "May I have this dance, my lady?"
She froze before him, her tearing eyes wide with surprise. However, she accepted his hand and let him draw her close into a waltz position. Time seemed to stop as the two slowly danced to the haunting melody in the grand foyer.
'If I told her, would she ever forgive me?' Enoch thought to himself as she rested in his arms. 'Would we ever be able to be as we were before? Is there any way that I can spare her this pain?'
The song ended, yet the two remained entwined in their dancing position. Staring down into Rose's eyes, Enoch swallowed and willed himself to utter the words that would tell her, the words that would reunite them and bind them together.
"Rose…"
"Excuse me, monsieur." Came a strong voice from the ballroom. William Harrington walked out of the salon and onto the balcony where the two dancers had quickly separated, the moment of before lost forever.
"Rose, are you well? I am so sorry about the waltz. I had spoken with the conductor and he had promised that he would not play that piece. I know how it affects you." He took Rose's hands in his own and Enoch's heart twisted as she gave William a smile.
"I am fine, William. You needn't worry; Mr. Simmons kept me from getting too emotional."
William's head snapped up to stare at Enoch, the color flowing rapidly from his face as he took in the other's appearance. Rose took no notice of this however, and letting go of one of William's hands she stretched out her arm to the other.
"You both must forgive me, I've been horribly rude all evening with these introductions! William, may I present Mr. Simmons from Charleston. Mr. Simmons, this is my patron, Baron William Harrington." The two stared at each other and shook hands. Just to confirm his suspicions, William ran his fingers over those of Enoch, taking note of those that were missing. When he stepped back, William had gotten a grasp on the situation and left Enoch shaking and humiliated. Upon seeing this, William laughed and tried his best to alleviate Enoch's anxiety by means of small-talk.
"My dear Rose, I do hope that I am more than you than just a patron! And Mr. Simmons is a Charleston man? I dare say, it's a long way from home for you, sir. What brings you to France?"
"Work, sir."
"And here I thought that the United States was known as a place of riches. It's good to know that Europe hasn't completely been surpassed. What do you do here in Paris?"
Enoch was spared the embarrassment of answering when Poligny and Cusset came out of the ballroom and intercepted Rose. "The Minister of Fine Arts is here and we simply must introduce you to him, my lady." Cusset chimed. Smiling at the two men, completely oblivious to the tension between them, Rose curtseyed and left with a flippant "I'll be right back, gentlemen."
When she had left, William stared long and hard at Enoch and asked in a low tone "I trust that you are better than the last time I saw you?"
"I'm much better than the last time, sir."
"What are you really doing in Paris?"
"Work, as I told you."
"What do you do? You were a soldier in the states."
"That is my concern, sir."
Sighing, William spread his arms in supplication. "I did not mean to offend you. I did not expect to see you here; you caught me off guard. How are you doing?"
"Better than I was before, sir."
"I'm sure you've heard of how precious the opera is. I am indebted to you for saving it."
"I would think that you would've hated me for giving it to her. It has kept her from you."
William looked at him sharply and in a low voice said "While that is none of your concern, it has saved her. It has given her a purpose in her life until she can move on from her past. Did you tell her about it?"
"Tell me about what, William?" Rose approached them again as the white satin and laces surrounded her like a cloud. "I'm surprised you're both out here. I didn't realize that either of you would wish to become so acquainted with the other." She said with a smile.
William looked to Rose and his face clearly showed that at that moment, he had made a resolution. "There is something that you must know, Rose. Mr. Simmons and I were acquaintances before this evening. You know that he was an American soldier?"
Looking at the two men before her, Rose's smile left her face almost immediately as the calculating expression took its place. "Yes, I know that he was a soldier. Where would the two of you have met?"
"In Montana, Rose."
"Montana?" the word was a disbelieving whisper. "What on earth were you doing in Montana, William?"
"Looking for Ardenson." Rose's face lost its color and in a low, broken voice she asked "What? You went there for him? Why?"
William took her hands in his and stared down into her face as his expression softened. "Need you ask? For you, of course. You wouldn't see anyone, wouldn't eat, wouldn't talk…what was I to do? It was the only thing I could do. I went to make sure, to ascertain that he was dead and to bring back to you what I could. It wouldn't have been the first time Americans made a mistake. All I could think of was you in your room and what if he was alive and hurt and unable to reach you; you both would've died. I had to make sure, so I left and went to his regiment. And this man knew him." He gestured toward Enoch wearily.
"What?" Rose asked, her lips quivering in her pale face as she struggled to deal with the emotions that were tearing her apart.
"Mr. Simmons was the other scout with Ardenson. He's the one who had the opera and knew that Enoch was dead. He gave me the opera to give to you. And I arranged for a soldier to give it to you rather than me."
"William…" she broke off, her voice thick with tears. She turned her face away from his in order to hide her tears but William took her face between his hands and looked down into it lovingly.
"Rose, I love you. I'll always love you and I always have. I'd go to the ends of the earth to make you happy, even if it meant giving you over to another. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier; I don't know why. Perhaps I didn't want your gratitude, I don't know. Please forgive me."
Her eyes widened with this declaration and her face changed as if a sudden realization came to her. She threw her arms around William's neck and brought his shocked face down to hers and embraced him with a passionate kiss. Tears streamed down her face and his as they pressed their bodies closer together. When they ended their kiss, they stood holding each other for a moment, each looking into the other's face with love and desire.
Rose was the first to come out of her trance and pulling away from William, approached Enoch. She wiped the tears from her face and with a sad smile she said "And you, I thank you. Thank you so much for keeping these things for me. Thank you for being a friend to him." In one of the most unladylike gestures she ever did, she reached out and embraced Enoch's shaking form and held him close.
She parted from him and was quickly whisked away by William back to the ballroom, leaving Enoch standing alone in the balcony as the tears began to fall.
(ATTENTION!!!! If suicide contemplation or self-mutilation bothers or offends you, please do not read this section! Please don't say that I didn't warn you…)
Limping blindly through the opera house, Enoch found himself in an obscure dressing room near the end of a darkened corridor. Everywhere he turned, he was haunted by the ghosts of what he had lost. The sounds from the lovers embracing in the boxes, the laughter echoing throughout the building, even the sound of the orchestra playing tormented his soul. He had lost his last chance. He had lost her.
He had seen it in her face when William made his passionate declaration. He knew that Rose had cared for William, but it had taken proof of the depth of his love before she could come to love him as she had once loved the other. Once she had gotten that proof, it was a matter of seconds before her heart was closed to him forever.
His mask was suffocating him. The tears that had begun to fall back in the foyer had saturated the leather of his mask but showed no signs of stopping. Closing the door to the room, he turned up the gas lamp slightly so that he could find a place to sit down. Removing the glove of his right hand, he slowly undid the ties to his mask and lifted his wig from his head. Lifting the wet leather from his face, he held it in his mangled hand and stared at it in the dim light.
Looking up briefly, he caught his reflection in the mirror above the dressing table. He stood and walked over to it slowly, staring at himself with fascination rather than the horror of before.
'This is what you are…' Enoch told himself. 'This is why you cannot have her. This is what you are; a hideous, disfigured monster unable to live in the sunlight. Even someone with her heart could not come to love you; you are repulsive. Nobody as beautiful as her deserves to be tied to such a creature.'
He touched his mangled fingers to the reflective glass as if to confirm that it was his reflection. 'You are a monster of her nightmares. She will never come to love you. Despite her goodness, she could never forgive you. She will loathe you…"
His broken jaw clenched painfully as he contemplated these thoughts and his fingers came together in a twisted parody of a fist. Seeing his hand reflected back at him was the final straw; he swung his fist into the glass.
It shattered immediately on contact and pieces of glass embedded themselves in the already scarred flesh. He roared with agony as he continued to beat his hands into the mirror, some pieces cutting into his face as they flew and others cutting through the leather on his left hand. When the mirror was completely shattered, he fell to his knees amid the sea of glass. He rocked back and forth like a madman as he sobbed, digging his bleeding hands into his face as if to claw the horrible visage from his head.
When his sobs had quieted, he opened his eyes to see the destruction around him. The millions of glass pieces reflected his tortured gaze in the dim light and his stomach heaved.
Suddenly, one of the larger glass shards caught his attention. Instead of reflecting his face, it reflected the light from the lamp. To him, it looked as if it were glowing. He reached for it, ignoring the sharp pains as his clumsy hands were cut. He was careful to keep its surface averted from his face as he brought it closer to him. The edges seemed to glow with a beautiful, radiant light; in the back of his mind he realized what he had to do to end the pain. He wanted to be surrounded by this warm light, the darkness was cold and he wanted peace. It seemed as though the entire room was bathed with a calming presence as he slowly brought the glowing edge of the glass to his wrist.
A/N: Wow…two truly depressing chapters in one row. I think we need to bring Carlotta in here for the comic relief. :-D
I hope that nobody was truly offended by the third section of this chapter and I hope that it wasn't too graphic. I had promised frequent updates up to this point, but after this there won't be some until at some point in the holidays. So, to help relieve the anxiety over the cliff-hanger, please keep in mind that it really wouldn't be completely tragic if Enoch died now; I can't let my trio off that easy.
Lil Shady, thanks for your review! I also enjoyed when Erik was the one to bring up stalking; when I think of Erik, I think that he would've been much more reasonable in the days before Christine popped up. Maybe we'll get to see how he changes when she does… Oh, and I could kiss you for bringing up the selfishness issue on Enoch's part! Sometimes, my reviewers say things that I completely agree with; that was definitely one of them. I applaud you for agreeing with me on this part! Thanks again!
Olethros, I don't think there are too many clues hidden in the story other than a chin-stroke. When I go back to rewrite this, I will include more. I hope that you like this twist of events and thank you for your review.
Wandering Child and Phtmangl1013, thank you for your reviews. I hope that you don't mind the twist on this story.
Kinelea, thanks for your reviews. I hope that you are enjoying the story thus far and hope that William's performance in this chapter wasn't too unpleasant for your tastes. As always, I encourage you to read the books, they are wonderful works of art, but I do cringe at the thought of the movie. I was always one who never thought that Erik should be brought back to Hollywood and I have extremely mixed feelings about that they are going to do to his character. Then again, I've mutilated his character in all of my pieces, so I suppose that I have no room to talk. But one thing I can say is that the disfigurement of my Erik's and even Enoch is going to be worse than the one on Gerard Butler given that I try to keep Erik's facial description as close to that in the original novel as possible…I'm afraid that I do have a problem with an attractive phantom, as odd as that sounds! Regardless, thank you for your support!