To all of my reviewers: :o) I tried to email all of you but most of my emails were returned. I don't know why. Ella O'hara, I Love Gerry, SunnyKorin, Mysweetphantom, J. E. Hill, DragonheartRAB, evilteddybear408, CelestialGlowEquivalence, Kyrene once blood roses and Katherine: Thank you everyone for the great feedback. It means a lot to me, Shye Mareck
If Meg had any plans for her future, they had been postponed indefinitely. The studio was indeed in need of attention, but Meg could see what her mother had envisioned. It was large with a wooden floor. There was only minor damage to the floor and the walls boasted several cracks in the plaster. Several large windows faced the cobblestone street .
It was in an older part of town, but also in a well preserved neighborhood. The building had once been a boarding school for boys but the school had expanded its capacity and changed to a new location. It had a pleasant courtyard in the center of the three story building. The dormitories had been remodeled to accommodate tenants.
Every day the two women took a hired carriage to the studio. Meg was grateful that Madame Giry had hired a contractor to do the refurbishing. In a moment of panic, Meg thought that her mother just might expect her the drudge of doing it to save money. In just over two weeks, the room was finished. The walls were a pale, muted shade of gold. The trim around the windows and doors were freshly painted white. Royal blue draperies adorned the six arched widows facing the street. Six large mirrors had recently been mounted to the long wall opposite the windows and reflected the morning sun. In all, the place was beginning to look quite grand. The floor was polished to the highest sheen. A string quartet had been employed three days a week for an hour. Madame Giry explained that it was all they could afford for now. When their enrollment was increased, they would retain them longer. A list of potential students had began to grow steadily over the last two weeks as well. Madame Giry explained to Meg that she was to take the beginning class of five-to-eight-year-olds every Monday and Wednesday at two o'clock in the afternoon. Madame Giry would take the intermediate and advanced classes.
After the initial shock of being surrounded and out numbered by sixteen children between the ages of six and eight, Meg found that she rather enjoyed teaching. There were four boys and twelve girls in the class. Only one of the boys was enrolled in the class by choice. The other three were the sons of ambitious mothers. Meg felt sorry for them and tried to be pleasant and understanding. Several of the little girls were also there because their mothers had visions of grandeur. A few of the children showed real potential while most lacked the necessary coordination to become great. But one never knew what would happen in the next few years and surprises were ever present. Meg did not want the children to be short changed because she lacked confidence.
One particular little girl caught her attention instantly, six-year-old Julia Ilene Timpson. She was small for her age but nonetheless athletic and strong. She had curly brown hair with golden highlights and a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her disposition was always cheerful and unspoiled, in contrast to a couple of other girls, Caroline and Jacqueline, who were almost nine and considered themselves to know more than the teacher. They had been taking ballet lessons since they were five and were almost as dedicated to the art as their mothers. They were cousins. Meg had learned the on their first day. She soon found out that they announced this to every new acquaintance. They worked hard and yet still lacked the grace and fluidity to be more than average.
They particularly wanted to do the more advanced steps and exercises which Meg forbade them to do. Some teachers pushed the little ballerinas to stand on their toes. Madame Giry had been especially strict with Meg and not let her do it until she was eight and closer to nine. Caroline and Jacqueline's former teacher had allowed this and Meg feared they had damaged their bone structure which would cost them later.
After the children went home, Meg practiced her own routines, finding that the physical exertion did wonders to expel the frustration she felt in her personal life. She hadn't gone to the room under the laundry since she'd deserted her mother in the milliner's shop to see Erik. For the most part it was because she had been busy getting the ballet school started, but also, with the realization that she loved Erik, came the fear of more rejection. It was as if there were a magnet drawing her to him, but it was, in some respect, in spite of her rather than because of her. In many ways it would have been easier to love one of the eager dandies who approached her almost daily.
Her opportunity for social contact had broadened since no longer did she confine herself to the sanctuary of the Paris Opera House, however much she longed to. Instead, she found herself as an audience member at the less prestigious, but still popular, Théâtre du Châtelet. There seemed a certain smugness within its structure as though the building itself said, I told you so! Before Charles Garnier designed the Opera Populaire, as a gathering place for those wanting to see and be seen, Théâtre du Châtelet was the finest Opera Paris had to offer. Now, with the Opera Populaire in ruins, the older opera was enjoying renewed success. Madame Giry and her daughter were in regular attendance at least once a week, usually on a Friday or Saturday evening.
"In this business you have to see and be seen or people will forget you," Madame Giry explained to Meg on one such event, "and we need to be present at these performances if we expect our school to be a success. People aren't going to trust the future of ballet to people who do not care enough to attend." So, Meg attended faithfully.
She met many people who recognized her from her work at the Paris Opera and realized that she had a small group of admirers. Most were young men, who offered her everything from dainty baubles and horses to marriage proposals. Many were handsome, wealthy and charming. She should have been pleased by the attention. He mother even said so after Meg had politely tuned down a supper engagement from a gentleman. She had instantly forgotten the man's name so she didn't even know what her mother was talking about when she scolded her for her lack of interest.
"Monsieur Dublan is of outstanding reputation, Meg, and, if I may say so, a comely man. Why did you turn him down?" Madame Giry asked one Saturday morning after they had been to a performance of The Magic Flute.
"Who?" Meg asked absentmindedly.
"Monsieur Reginald Dublan. He is a fine catch for any girl."
"But I don't want him." Meg said flatly.
"Why not?" Madame Giry looked her daughter squarely in the eyes, trying to garner more information than Meg was willing to give.
"He is soft and pallid."
"I don't think we are talking about the same man, Meg." Madame Giry looked even closer in her daughter's eyes and face. She put a hand to Meg's brow. "Are you feeling well, dear? I assure you we are not talking about the same man."
"I am sorry, Mama. I don't remember him." Meg confessed.
"Well you are in luck. You have another chance to remember him. I have accepted an invitation from him to both of us to a party to honor his sister who is about to be married. I believe this will be the event of the season in Paris. It is a masked ball. Everyone who is anyone will be there. We don't want to miss it."
"Why is it so important that we be there, if no one will know who we are any way?" Meg asked stubbornly.
"At the end of the party, everyone will unmask. It will be an stimulating evening for a young person, such as yourself. You concern me with your lack of interest." Madame Giry spoke with genuine distress. Meg did not want to give her mother cause to worry, so she agreed that the party was a fine idea to lighten her spirit. Seeming satisfied, Madame Giry continued on about what they would wear and Meg detected some girlish delight in her mother's voice as she talked about the masquerade. It would have been extremely selfish of her to not go. Madame Giry was flattered that her daughter was receiving such attention from a worthy gentleman. Meg could not deny her mother the pleasure of such a prestigious event.
The night of the masked ball manifest itself all to quickly for Meg. She masked her reluctance with a white kitty cat mask she made herself. Bleached white ostrich feathers, carefully placed, almost had the appearance of real cat fur. The triangular nose was made of polished amethyst. The whiskers were made of the finest broom straws she could find. In all the effect was curiously attractive. Her dress was white with the exception of the lavender stomacher, gloves and hat she wore bearing the same shade as the amethyst. Her skirt was full with ruffles layered one above another. He hair was pinned up in an intricate twist with half a dozen ringlets falling over one shoulder. She felt pretty and credited the feeling for the flush in her cheeks.
Her mother wore a feline mask as well. It was an orange and black striped concoction representative of a tiger. Dyed fur gave the mask its distinctive colors. It blended well with Madame's choice of gown, an orange creation covered entirely with black lace. Wide, black ruffled lace graced the low neckline It was sleeveless and long black satin gloves covered her arms up past her elbows. Meg had never seen her mother in anything like it, and said so.
"And you never will again, darling." Her mother laughed gaily. "I plan to make an early escape before the unmasking."
"I thought you said–." Meg began before her mother cut her off.
"Never mind what I said. That was before I saw this delightful little piece at Madame Balmforth's." Madame Giry giggled. Meg stared.
Aunt Clair and Michelle beamed as the other two women seated themselves in the carriage that had been sent for them. The driver bowed and introduced himself as Edwin, Monsieur Dublan's personal driver.
"Monsieur Dublan awaits you at the house of his sister's betrothed, the Marques Stuart Fairmont." Edwin told them. Meg felt the excitement in spite of herself. It was hard to avoid. She had never been invited to a party outside of the opera before. There were days when she longed for it as a child, and she wanted to enjoy it.
They were taken to a grand house on a hill above the city of Paris. The formidable structure was alight and alive with party goers. The first thing that Meg noticed were the grounds. Blooms of every color and fragrance adorned the walk up to the white stone mansion with arched windows and carved ornamentations. A butler extended a white gloved hand to receive their written invitations. It made the Girys all the more pleased to be invited. Only those with an embossed invitation would be allowed though the great double doors.
Inside, gold chandeliers and candelabras made the place as bright as midday. Meg had never been inside a private residence so aristocratic. The furnishings were delicate works of art with white and gold paint. The settees and chairs were covered in crushed blue velvet. The ballroom had a marble tile floor with a large lily motif in the center. Other rooms boasted exquisite carpets. Heavy periwinkle draperies with gold fringe hung about large windows and vases containing lilies were every where. Meg was curious about the featured bloom until she learned the name of the bride-to-be. Lily Dublan was a golden haired child of seventeen, wearing a mask of glittering stones and silver. Meg was seized upon by the girl soon after walking through the door.
"I know who you are." She giggled, after excusing herself to Madame Giry and pulling Meg into a tiny area with a bay window shrouded with plants. "I insisted that Gordon, our butler signal to me when you arrived. I was such a fan of yours when you were at the Opera Populaire. I love the opera and I saw you the other night at the Théâtre du Châtelet with you mother, I believe. I wanted to meet you. I think we could be friends. I told Reggie to invite you here tonight. I hope you aren't disappointed that it was me instead of my handsome brother that invited you."
"Not at all. It is my pleasure to attend such a grand party and I shall enjoy myself all the same." Meg said.
"Oh, there is Reggie, now." Lily said. "He is probably wondering where you are. We should help the poor fellow out." Reggie, as it turned out, wore a very realistic mask of a wolf and formal clothing almost identical to every other man in the room. He bowed low, kissed the back of her hand and growled appreciatively. Meg smiled in spite of herself and began wishing that she had remembered what he looked like behind the mask. He smiled revealing dazzling white teeth. The mask did not cover his mouth or classical jaw line. His eyes were brown and twinkled from behind the mask. She could make out tiny laugh lines around his eyes. Lily made her apologies and went about greeting the other guests.
"I am honored that you accepted my invitation this time, Mademoiselle." Reggie said pleased with himself.
"Ah, but your sister claims to be the one who invited us." Meg countered.
"Yes, she did suggest it. After all, it is her engagement party. But I voluntarily invited you to supper with me, and you declined. Even now, I suspect that Madame Giry is the one to accept our invitation, not you, so we are even on that score." Reggie said grinning.
"Are you a clairvoyant?" Meg joked.
"I am reading your thoughts as we speak." He said gruffly into her ear.
"What am I thinking, right now?" Meg asked as her stomach rumbled and she laughed.
"Yes, I hear your thoughts and they say, 'Feed me, Monsieur.'" He said pretending seriously to consider his answer. Meg laughed. "Let us find the refreshment tables and I will satisfy you." He said, offering his arm. Meg took his arm and allowed him to guide her to a room was prepared with tables and chairs for dining. The food was laid out buffet style. Meg saw a woman who had a familiar look to her, near the buffet. On closer inspection, she recognized Christine behind the jeweled mask. When she heard the woman speak, Meg knew, without a doubt, that it was her friend.
"Oh, Christine, I thought it might be you!" Meg exclaimed joyously.
"Meg? Is it really you?" Christine reached out and clasped Meg's hands in hers. "How I have missed you. We must talk. Raoul, you remember Meg." Christine turned to the man beside her.
"Yes, How do you do, Mademoiselle" Raoul, wearing a mask identical to Christine's, bowed slightly in acknowledgment. It was then that Meg remembered Reggie.
"This is Monsieur Reginald Dublan, brother to the bride-to-be." Meg introduced him.
"I am pleased to meet you." Christine said genuinely. Raoul nodded his agreement.
"The viscount, Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae." Meg said.
"No longer, Christine Daae, but Viscountess de Chagny." Christine beamed and held up her hand to display a dazzling gem on her left ring finger.
"Oh, Christine. This is so wonderful!" Meg hugged her friend tightly.
"Congratulations." Reggie said shaking Raoul's hand.
"Thank you." Raoul said.
"There is so much I want to tell you." Christine said earnestly. The two young women sat down at one of the small tables to talk. Reggie excused himself on a reasonable note that his sister may need some assistance. Raoul drifted away after a few minutes, realizing that Christine wasn't going to pay him any attention for the time being.
"Meg, have you heard any more about...about the phantom? I worry about him. He scares me, and yet I cannot forget him." Christine lowered her voice and held Meg's gaze with her own.
"Christine, I have seen him and talked to him. His name is Erik." Meg admitted.
"Oh, Meg, be careful. You do not know what he is capable off." Christine warned.
"I know that he is capable of being hurt. I think that he is capable of loving someone more than himself." Meg knew her words sounded harsh and she tried to soften them. "He cares about you still."
"I am not strong enough to love him. I can't deal with his tempers and his possessiveness. He is so intense about everything. I can't bear it." Christine spoke in hush tones and her voice wavered as emotion choked her.
"Why not? He will not ever be free of you." Meg whispered harshly.
"I will never be free of him, either. I feel him when no one is there. His voice plays in my head and I think of him every day. I have to live each day knowing I that I betrayed one who loved me to the point that it made him mad."
"He is not mad!" Meg defended.
"Then how do you explain what he did?" Christine demanded.
"Maybe you brought out the worst in each other." Meg said.
"Exactly so!" Christine agreed.
Music began to play and Raoul quickly claimed his partner. Meg found herself alone and wondered where Reggie was at the moment. She decided that she liked him. He didn't make her heart race but he was good company. She went back to the ballroom to see if he were anywhere in sight. Madame Giry was dancing with a gentleman in a bear's head. His formal coat and white tie barely distinguished him otherwise. Then she saw Reggie in his wolf mask and went to chide him for deserting her.
"There you are, Reggie. I thought you had found someone you liked better. Are you going to ask me to dance?" Meg teased. He bowed politely, stepped out toward the dance floor and offered his hand. Meg placed her hand in his white gloved one and allowed him to pull her in to his arms. His arms held her firmly and she felt his muscular shoulder beneath her hand. It felt good to be held like and this and she allowed herself to lean in to him ever-so-slightly. She stifled a contented sigh and let her head rest on his chest.
"So, who the hell is Reggie?" He murmured in her ear. Meg jerked her head up and looked into the eyes of the man who held her. Blue eyes, not brown, regarded her. The voice, also, was all too familiar.
"Erik!"
"I see that you know who I am, but who is Reggie?" Erik demanded. "Come, don't act so startled, people will think that Reggie has offended you." He pulled her gently back into her arms and resumed their dance.
"Why are you here?" Meg asked, already knowing that he was here because of Christine.
"I enjoy a good waltz and the company of women when they don't know who I am. I have enjoyed several masquerades in my time. More so in my younger days, but this is a fine show if I may say so." Erik said. He was a good dancer and Meg had wondered where he'd learned how to dance so well.
"How did you get in? I mean– we had an invitation." Meg said inanely.
"Oh, yes, I am an uninvited guest. Are you going to call the police? Your little friend removed my mask. It might work for you, too." Erik challenged.
"Of course not! I would never do such and thing and besides, I am glad you're here. I came to this party dreading it and yet I have enjoyed myself immensely." Meg said, and on impulse, again, leaned into him. This time he held her there with the slightest pressure. The song concluded as a faster beat took its place, a bounding two-step. Erik swung her around and around pulling her with him. She never missed a beat though she had to work to keep up with him. He was smiling when the song came to an end and she realized that he was breathing as hard as she was. The next dance was a quadrille.
Erik led her out on the terrace and down a curved stairway into the heavily scented gardens. Night had arrived in style. The stars glittered above accompanied by a half moon. Strategically placed torches lit the stone path that winded through expertly groomed hedges and lawns. The patio below the terrace was lit in part by the light that emanated from the spectacularly lit ballroom and by gaslight lamps positioned on each corner.
"I do not wish to trade partners with rapscallions. Walk with me." Erik said. They wandered through the gardens without speaking, each absorbed with their own thoughts. Meg placed her hand in the crook of his arm and followed him. She wanted to asked him if he was here to see Christine and yet, in her heart, she knew the answer. If he didn't know she was here, Meg didn't want him to know. She really didn't want him thinking about Christine at all.
"Who's Reggie?" Erik asked suddenly.
"He is the brother to the bride-to-be. I just met him tonight." Meg answered.
"Do you know the bride?"
"I just met her tonight, as well."
"That seems curious."
"My mother accepted the invitation on our behalf." Meg explained.
"Christine is here." He said disengaging himself from her and looked out upon the city from where they stood.
"I know."
"She looks well. Don't you think?" He said, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
"Yes, I thought she looked very well." Meg said and removed her mask. She wanted him to see her for who she was. Her heart ached that he would be thinking of someone else when she was standing right beside him.
"You will be missed. Reggie will be looking for you."
"I don't care if he is. I would rather be here with you. Take of that ridiculous wolf's head. I don't like looking at it." Meg said, pouting a little as she'd seen other girls do when they were working their wiles on a gentleman. This was the first time Meg had ever done such a thing and she was shocked by her own action, but it worked. Erik removed the furry, grey headdress. He wore the white mask she had found in his lair the night of the 'famous disaster' or one very similar to it.
"Yes, milady." He said bowing deeply. "Are you practicing your coquetry upon me, Mademoiselle?" He teased lightly.
"I don't know what you are talking about." Meg lied.
"Oh, yes, you do, Margaret. It was a mistake for me to bring you here. Reggie will be expecting you. I will walk back with you, at least part of the way." He turned and held out his hand to her. "Come, now."
Meg hesitated, but slowly took his hand and placed it on her waist. Before she changed her mind, she raised up on her tiptoes and put her mouth to his. He stiffened but did not pull away. She touched the tip of her tongue to his bottom lip. Suddenly his grasp tightened and he pulled her to him, kissing her deeply, roughly, drawing from her the sweetness she offered him. She let her mask slip from her fingers onto the soft wet grass so they could glide over his shoulders, up the back of his neck, and trace the magnificent outline of his jaw. Then, without warning, he pulled away from her, gasping.
"What in Hell's name do you think you are doing?" He growled between gasps. Turning, he walked a short distance away with this back to her, leaning forward as though he was in pain.
"Erik!" Meg called out to him, startled and frightened. Had she hurt him?
"Go!" He shouted at her angrily and began walking away in great strides. She tried to follow him, but very soon she lost him in the darkness.
Meg ran back to the great stone mansion almost blinded by tears. He mother was the first to see her and hurried to meet her on the patio. It didn't take long for her mother to sum up the situation, escort her along the back of the house and out front to where a carriage waited. Madame Giry returned to the party just long enough to express their regret for cutting their evening short.
Once back in the carriage with her daughter, she demanded to know what had happened. Meg could only shake her head and sob. He mother grew more insistent that Meg tell her the source of her grief.
"Did anyone harm you?" Madame Giry demanded. Meg shook her head. "What on earth has happened to put you in this condition? Did this involve a man?" Meg didn't respond. "Just as I thought. Did Monsieur Dublan have anything to do with it?" Meg realized at the moment that she couldn't breath a word about Erik, let alone what had transpired that night. Reginald Dublan was the only possible way out, so she nodded. "Did he bother you, or behave inappropriately?"
"No, Mama, he didn't bother me, but I don't want to talk about it anymore. I will feel foolish if anyone ever found out what I did."
"What, pray tell, did you do?" Madame Giry was scandalized.
"I told you, I don't want to talk about it!" Meg cried out. She settled into corner of the carriage and let the tears fall.
By the time the carriage arrived at Aunt Clair's, Meg had stopped crying and achieved a measure of composure. Her mother was silent and Meg knew that she was imagining the worst. Meg was preparing herself for bed when Madame Giry brought her a cup of warm milk. Meg drank the milk, then crawled between cool crisp sheets. Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed looking at her solemnly.
"It is a hard thing to fall in love, Meg. We have never talked about what happens between a man and a woman, when they have feelings for each other. Perhaps I have waited too long to tell you these things. But if you have had feelings for Monsieur Dublan, I assure you that they are normal and you shouldn't be frightened." Madame Giry spoke gently.
"I don't want to talk about this." Meg said firmly.
"I understand, dearest, but you are a young woman now and things have changed. You cannot deny your self the joy of being married and having a family. This is what life is really about. We will talk in the morning, when you feel better." She brushed the bangs away from Meg's forehead, kissed it and pulled the coverlet up to her chin and tucking her in as she had often done when Meg was younger. "Goodnight, Darling Meg." She said blowing out the flame of the oil lamp.
Erik recovered from the shock of the kiss, some time after Meg had returned to the party crying. His senses reeled. He had no idea that she could do this to him. He'd actually been enjoying her company and the dance they shared, which was why he led her out to the garden. While he had attended the occasional masque and danced with many women over time, he'd never spoke with them outside the usually pleasantries one exchanged with strangers. Certainly he would have never done what he did tonight with Margaret Giry. But she'd expressed herself as wanting to be his friend and he was enjoying the companionship. After so many years of solitude, he was allowing himself to indulge a little.
The poor bloke who had left the party to answer a call of nature and foolishly left his wolf mask outside the door of the lavatory was probably the "Reggie" Meg spoke of. Erik replaced the mask with one of his own, a crow's face, made from real crow feathers. He liked the wolf mask and felt that it was an even trade.
In reality, he was there to see Christine. The Fairmont estate was known for lavish parties and masquerades. The Viscount de Chagny and the Marquis had been classmates and childhood friends. In the rumors surrounding the event, it was to be the event of the season. Servants gossiped and thieves, hiding themselves in the tunnels under the city, made it their business to know about such events. They probably didn't know that sound had a way of traveling in corridors and Erik was aware of what transpired above ground, often whether he liked it or not. This was above and beyond the detail that the upcoming engagement party had been published in the society column of Paris's most popular newspaper. Erik had no doubt that Christine would be there. He recognized her even though she was masked. The way she moved was all he needed. She looked as happy and vitally alive, as he remembered. It was with dismay, Erik realized that she was content with her choice. For weeks now, in his dreams, he imagined that Christine would return to him and yet he knew that she never would no matter how much he wanted her to.
In spite of himself, he returned to the spot where Meg had kissed him. Her white kitten mask was still there in the grass. The wolf mask lay facing it, a few feet away as though it too yearned for something. Erik kicked 'the wolf', sending it flying, and picked up the kitten mask. It smelled faintly of Meg's perfume. He buried his face in its feathery softness.