Two days after the masque, Meg received a letter from Monsieur Dublan. She read it aloud to Madame Giry, Uncle Alec, Aunt Clair and Michelle over afternoon tea.
Dearest Meg,
With deep regrets that your evening was spoiled, I humbly beg your forgiveness. It was my error that caused your discomfort. If you aren't too vexed with me, please have dinner with me this Saturday evening. Write your response to 73 rue Charlot, Paris.
Your humble servant, Mr. R. Dublan.
"He is such a gentleman, Meg. You will write to him." Madame Giry observed.
"I'll think about it." Meg said.
"Don't take too long to think on it. He may think that you're not interested." Her mother warned. Meg didn't want to further Madame Giry's curiosity about what her mother referred to as "the incident." For now, Monsieur Dublan would have to bear the burden of her foolishness.
Meg motioned for Michelle to follow her out of the room. The two girls stood to leave.
"There is some writing paper in the secretary, right over there." Aunt Clair said motioning toward the polished desk. Meg collected the necessary ink, pen and paper, and started, again to leave.
"Write the note here, Meg. You might spill the ink." Madame Giry cautioned.
"Mother, I'm not five-years-old any more. Let me be!" Meg was shocked by her own impertinence. The room went silent. "I'm sorry, Mother. You are right." Meg sighed inwardly. When would she ever find it within herself to defy her mother without instantly backing down?
"No, you are right, Dear." Aunt Clair said and waved Meg away with her hand. "You are a good girl. You won't spill the ink."
"Thank you, Aunt Clair." Meg said genuinely grateful.
"Adele, you need to let up on the girl. She is not a child." Meg heard Aunt Clair saying as she and Michelle made their escape up the stairs to Meg's room.
Once inside, Meg closed the door and faced the other girl.
"Michelle, I have to talk to you. I have to talk to someone or I will go mad. The other night at the masque, I slipped away from the party with someone, who wasn't Monsieur Reginald." Meg looked at Michelle watching for some kind of reaction, shock, dismay, horror or relief. Michelle just stared at her blankly. "And I kissed him!" Meg confessed throwing her hands up in the air.
"You're going to spill the ink." Michelle said, taking the bottle from her.
"Is that all you can think about, right now?" Meg demanded, miffed at Michelle's lack of concern.
"A kiss isn't going to leave a permanent stain." Michelle answered evenly.
Meg stared at her. "I suppose that it is hard for you to understand. You've never been in love." She said in a superior tone. Michelle looked wounded and Meg felt like kicking herself.
"I'm sorry, Michelle. I am horrid! Please don't be angry with me. I need to talk to someone and I can't talk to mother about this. She would die of horror."
"You can talk to me, but you are right. I don't know how it feels to be in love. I may not ever know what it is like. Men frighten me." Michelle confessed in a half whisper, her eyes filling with moisture. Meg put her arms around the younger girl, rocking her gently as she let the tears fall. In time, the flow of tears subsided and the two girls faced each other, Meg sitting on a foot stool while Michelle occupied the only chair in the room.
"What am I going to do, Michelle? I can't lead Reginald on like this. It isn't fair to him."
"Talk to him. He'll understand." Michelle answered.
"How do you know this. I would be furious if someone did this to me!" Meg countered.
"I remember him from some years ago. I know his sister. We went to school together. She is only a year older than myself. He always seemed pleasant enough then, but I don't know him intimately.
"You do know him then!" Meg clapped her hands together, elated.
"I know who he is." Michelle corrected.
"Then you know more than I do. I've never seen his face." Meg said guiltily, her color rising.
"Oh! That is funny, Meg! He is very handsome." Michelle began to laugh and Meg joined in. Soon they were overcome by fits of laughter. This caused Madame Giry to investigate.
"Do control yourselves, Ladies." She said opening the door to Meg's bedroom and Meg sensed that her mother was still offended by their previous exchange. "Loud laughter is vulgar in women." She said, as a parting remark. Meg and Michelle stifled their mirth long enough for Madame Giry's footsteps to be heard going down stairs, then they were again reduced to bouts of hilarity.
Meg related the episode in the Marques's garden, with Erik and "the kiss", in great detail to Michelle. It felt good to share her secret and Michelle was a good audience. The younger girl's eyes lit up with wonder as Meg described the mansion, the gardens, the music, the dancing and the people in attendance.
"Lily is so fortunate to be marrying the Marques. Who would have know it when we were children. She was such a scamp. She was always up to something. One day, Lily was being punished, for something I can't remember. Her mother had her sentenced to stay in her room, not even allowed to go to school, and took away her shoes. Well, Lily took one of the family's horses and rode it bareback... and barefoot... to school. The headmistress sent her home, of course." Michelle laughed at the memory.
"How well did you know Lily?" Meg wanted to know.
"Just as acquaintances. I told you, she was a year older. She was always kind and polite, but we weren't confidants. I always admired her spirit though."
"You liked her well enough?"
"Yes, of course." Michelle answered, puzzled. "But I don't see what that has to do with anything. If you are in love with Erik, Monsieur Phantom, what do Reginald and Lily Dublan have to do with it?"
"That is where things get perplexing. Mother thinks that I love Reggie, because I let her believe. It would never do for her to know about Erik. I must tell Reggie that I love another. But how?" Meg lamented. "I was thinking that perhaps Lily could tell him, or I could write him a note." She joked.
"Accept his invitation and tell him. It's the only way." Michelle said.
"I was afraid of that." Meg moaned. "It was so much easier, living in the opera house. I didn't have to think about courting and men. Mother wouldn't allow it. She watched me like a hawk."
"You were lucky." The other girl said clearing her throat.
"Yes, I suppose I was." Meg agreed. "Help me write to Reggie. I can't spell worth a hoot and my handwriting is dreadful."
Michelle agreed to help. Between the two girls, it proved much harder to compose the reply than Meg thought. Each time she came up with something, Michelle would comment that she was too forward, too harsh or too vague. Finally, Meg relinquished the task to Michelle, and watched in wonder as she penned as follows:
Dear Monsieur,
I have only myself to blame for a spoiled evening. I wish for you to convey, to your sister Lily my deepest regret for leaving so abruptly. I really did enjoy myself in spite of my ill-timed departure. I will humbly accept your earnest invitation so that you will know that I wish, for us, to put this disagreeable event behind us. Sincerely Yours, Margaret Giry
"You represent me well, Michelle. Thank you." Meg sealed the letter with sealing wax, and carried it to the mailbox.
Throughout the week, Meg found very little time to think about the dinner engagement and, subsequently, she almost forgot about it. The one person she did think about was Erik. She felt sick at times remembering his reaction to her kiss. He wasn't entirely unaffected by passion and she was glad of it, but clearly he didn't want her and didn't want to be affected by her. It hurt and sometimes the sadness weighed upon her heavily.
If things weren't bad enough in her life the Prussian invasion that had begun earlier was taking its tole on her existence. Paris was no longer a carefree place to be. Soldiers in uniform, carrying weapons were seen everywhere, both Prussian and French.
The little girls in her ballet class were feeling it too. Little Julia cried one afternoon, because her father was a military officer and had to go away, because he was taken prisoner by the Prussian army. It proved to be too much for Meg. She broke down and cried with the little girl. Her inability to be a pillar of strength for her students shook her. By Thursday, the Giry School of Ballet closed its doors on orders of the French military. Schools all over the city closed their doors. Theaters closed. The cellars of the Paris Opera House were being used as holding cells for prisoners.
The Prussian occupation had created a tension that threatened to erupt in a civil war as well. The local militia and the workers of Paris had begun to unite, in protest of the French government's inability to crush the Prussian aggression. The were calling themselves the Paris Commune, and intended to seize control of the capital city.
Until now, Meg's life and been surrounded by illusion. Everything about the theater, Meg's world, was designed to distract from the cruelties of reality. Wars and fighting were choreographed like a dance, keeping in time with the music. Actors "died" just before curtain fall and by the next scene were having their make-up repaired for the curtain call.
Now the conversations all had turned to the war. No longer was it the subject of speculation and newspaper headlines but skirmishes and reported bloodshed were factual. It wasn't that they hadn't been real for a long time but for Meg it just hadn't been happening outside her front door until now.
By Saturday, Meg was so disheartened that she dreaded meeting with Reggie. He was a decent sort and deserved someone who cared about him the way she cared about Erik. She dressed for their dinner together with care. She would tell him tonight that she had feelings for another, but she wouldn't insult him by looking less than her best.
Her mother smiled her approval when she saw Meg in a pink and white satin gown with a low, off the shoulder neckline. The bodice was completely covered in columns of fine white lace that angled in toward the center of the waistline. The white overskirt was scalloped with fuchsia satin roses at each peak. Wide fuchsia ribbon was sewn in the middle of the lower pleated ruffle, giving the skirt a many-layered look. The train trailed behind her grandly. The dress had been a lucky find at Madame Balmforth's dress shop. A dainty reticule and hat completed the fashionable ensemble. A customer ordered it but could not pay for it and Madame Giry bought it for a modest price.
When Reggie arrived, Meg walked down the stairway to meet him. He was dressed in the French military uniform. He truly looked magnificent. Black wavy hair was thick beneath his hat. He was taller in his black polished boots that she remembered. She wanted to weep when she saw him. He was so young. Not a day over twenty-one. War was such a waste! His handsome face was serious. Dark, deep set eyes below dark brows regarded her openly. His mouth was chiseled and firm. Yes, he would be a fine catch for any girl. Any other girl. Meg still couldn't feel anything more than sisterly toward him. Guilt that he was fishing in a dry stream weighed heavy in her chest.
"Mademoiselle Giry, you take my breath away." He said bowing low over her hand.
"Thank you. You are a dear to pay me such a compliment, Monsieur. I must say that you honor any lady that finds herself in your company tonight." Meg said honestly.
"I only desire the company of one such lady, Mademoiselle." Meg privately wished that he was a cad, a lech, a thief or a liar, anything that would justify what she was going to do tonight.
Madame Giry beamed her pleasure as she witnessed the scene at the bottom of the stairs.
"Monsieur Dublan, it is so good to see you again. I hope you and Meg are safely entertained this evening." She made her presence known and glided down the stairs with a youthful grace that surprised her daughter. Madame Giry was the one taken with the young gentleman, Meg decided. Not that anything would ever come of it. Meg knew that it was simple feminine appreciation for an excellent representation of the opposite gender. She narrowed her eyes at her mother anyhow.
"Madame. I am privileged by your consent to court your daughter. I assure you that I have a safe and chaperoned evening planned. We will be dinning at the Mairie de Paris at the Hotel de Ville. Edwin, my driver, will be with us whenever we are not in public. He is the father of three daughters and is protective of all young women. Indeed, I don't know why I still employ him. He lives to keep me honest." Reggie teased with a glint of mischief in his dark eyes.
"I am not in the least bit worried. I know a gentleman when I see him." Madame Giry replied evenly.
"Shall we be going?" Meg interjected. If she remained there any longer she would scream. It was going to be bad enough to dissuade Reggie without having to disappoint her mother as well.
"Yes, go now and have a good time." Madame Giry almost pushed them out the door and Meg was again reminded that her mother was going to be mighty displeased.
The sun hovered on the horizon as Meg stepped into the carriage. Edwin, the promised chaperone, nodded and removed his hat to her. She smiled at him, sensing that Reggie was right about the driver. He looked to be in his early forties. His daughters were probably a handful contributing to the greying strands of hair at his temples.
The Mairie de Paris was a tribute to the gilded clientele that patronized the place. Meg felt strangely disqualified to be there, but putting on her best effort she remained in character. She carried herself with grace and dignity as Reggie escorted her through the great dinning hall to a small table for two. Eyes watched them. Meg felt them. It would have been rude for her to return the stares so she let her eyes remain on her companion. She was carrying the act a little too far perhaps, because Reggie seemed particularly pleased with the attention. She lowered her eyes and looked peaked at him from beneath her lashes and blushed when he looked into her eyes with open admiration. Things were just not going as she planned. She should have gotten a standing ovation for her role as the coquette, but instead she felt terrible.
"Reggie, I–." She began but couldn't bring herself to say the words. The evening was just getting started. There was no point in ruining it sooner than necessary. He looked at her expectantly. She shook her head and looked down at the white table cloth. A sadness came upon her and Reggie seemed to sense it too.
"You look worried, Mademoiselle. Is there something wrong?" He asked concerned. She looked at him letting her eyes say what she could not. Yes, she was sad. "Is it the uniform? I am a lieutenant now. I thought you would be pleased." He sounded hurt.
Meg shook her head not knowing what to say. "Yes...I mean no!" She tried to repair the damage by forcing a smile. It didn't work.
"You do not support the French government." He accused.
"I do. Of course, I do. But there is fighting..." She broke off.
"Of course there is fighting. There is a war on!" He looked indignant. She felt foolish. She knew there was a war on. Did he think she was stupid?
"I know there is a war on!" She retorted dropping the act of the coquette. "War means that people die. Do you think that I want you to get yourself killed?"
"Do you think of me as so inept that I can't take care of myself in battle?" She'd wounded his pride. She liked him but it was coming through that he was unseasoned in the art of life. How could she answer him without hurting his feelings again?
"I can only tell you that I would pray for your safety and survival. I can't bear the thought of you lying somewhere wounded and dying." She told him earnestly. That did it. He smiled at her, genuinely pleased with her response.
"You would pray for me then?" He asked.
"Of, course!" It was the least she could do.
"Then I shall fight bravely with the knowledge that with you and God on my side, I will remain undefeated!" He declared boldly. He was an idiot, Meg concluded silently.
A menu was brought to them by a waiter and Meg silently thanked the man with her eyes for saving her the effort of responding to Reggie's declaration. In spite of Meg desire to change the subject, Reggie had no such inclination.
"You must remain indoors until the revolt is suppressed and do not associate with revolutionaries. They are dangerous people. If the French government finds out that anyone is harboring political enemies, they will be tried for treason. I cannot tell you very much at this time, but I must warn you that things are heating up and there will be people arrested. I wouldn't want you to be caught up in this and put you and your family in danger." He said after the waiter left with their order.
"I don't know any revolutionaries." She replied honestly.
"It is just as well that you do not. I shall be better able to serve my country knowing that I do not have you for an enemy." He smiled at her, though Meg felt that she'd just been given an ultimatum.
She now knew why her mother had once said that one should never discuss religion or politics. It was a dead end. She still liked Reggie but she knew that they would never be able to agree on the war. In private she supported the people of Paris, the working class. She was one of them although she hovered between the two worlds of the gentry and the working social class. Wine was brought to their table and the waiter filled their glasses.
Meg had never been one to drink, with the exception of a single glass with dinner. In fact, her mother forbade it, citing the perils of addiction. Reggie evidently didn't feel the same. She wouldn't fault him for it, if he behaved himself, she decided.
The five course meal was served on gleaming china and silver. The food was well prepared. Meg enjoyed the braised lamb with dill sauce while Reggie attacked his steak with gusto. She couldn't fault the man for having an appetite, even though she was seeing more to find fault with, if she was so inclined.
When they had finished their meal, Reggie offered her his arm, and for once Meg was truly grateful for the support. Three glasses of wine had been all she had imbibed, but it affected her more than she'd realized when she stood up and began to walk. The floor had shifted or one leg and become longer than the other. Either way, Meg's perception was faintly disoriented. Reggie didn't seem to notice and Meg wasn't about to tell him that she was probably drunk.
Edwin didn't take them straight back to the House of Clureoux, as Meg expected. Instead she found herself exiting the carriage in front of a Russian tea house. Since she'd never been to one, it seemed like an interesting alternative to the dinning room at the Hotel de Ville. The tea house was almost dark in contrast to the dinning room at the hotel. A single candle illuminated each small table. A group of about four larger tables were on one end of the rectangular shaped room. These were lit by oil lamps placed in the center of each. A boisterous crowd hovered about the tables, mostly men. They were playing cards, Meg observed. The dim light was reflected in the haze of smoke spiraling from their cigars. Every chair in the room appeared occupied at first. But as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, she noticed that the farthest end from the larger tables, there were several tables vacant.
"This place is doing a jolly business tonight. We won't stay long. I just wanted some of the fellows to meet you." Reggie said pulling her along behind him. Meg wasn't sure how to take this latest development. He wanted to show her off like a prize he'd won. His friends were also young men in their twenties, but even the youngest of them had five years on Reggie. There were four of them and they too wore the uniform of the French military. Meg didn't want to make unfair judgements but they seemed unsavory sorts and she was disconcerted that Reggie considered himself one of them. He was an innocent, she surmised. He wasn't one of them, but perhaps aspired to be. It would be natural to seek approval of ones peers. His earnest manner, however, betrayed his idyllic values. Never once had he gazed upon her with the raw desire as they beheld her now.
Reggie introduced them calling them by name, although Meg couldn't remember their names even as he said them. They smiled at her and she returned their smiles. To rebuff them might provoke them and she didn't think that Reggie would be any match for them should they decide to make any overtures. Her fears were unnecessary. They cheered Reggie's good taste and Meg found a glass thrust in her hand. She smelled it find that it had no distinctive odor. She had no idea what it might be, but it was certainly not tea. She didn't know what exactly she expected to find in a Russian tea house, but tea was a high possibility. The tiniest taste warned of a high alcohol content. If three glasses of wine made the floor shrink away from her as she walked, this would probably have her in a stupor. She pretended to drink it and smiled weakly at the soldiers. They leered in return.
"Let's go sit over there." Meg said gesturing toward the unoccupied end the room. The soldiers seemed more inclined to stay where they were. Reggie obliged and Meg sat on the chair he held for her. He sat opposite her and she noticed his eyes flickered toward the men briefly. She wondered momentarily if he would have preferred their company to hers. There were no other patrons seated in the far end, save one. Meg didn't see him until she sat down. He sat in the corner. A hat and cloak shrouded his form. Seven tables were unoccupied in the far end, while the other was crowded. It seemed strange that more people didn't make use of that part of the room.
"Meg, I am so pleased that you came with me tonight. I will be joining my company tomorrow. I hope that you will write to me. If you write to the address that I gave you earlier, it will be forwarded to me where ever I am." He waited for her answer.
"Of course I will write to you, Reggie." She said after only waiting the tiniest bit too long. He looked taken aback when she didn't reply immediately. But what could she say? To tell him now that she loved another would be cruel. The poor boy was going to join his troupe in less than 24 hours. He might be killed before she saw him again. Wouldn't it be better that he died believing that someone tenderly mourned his death. She searched his face now for some hint of the future. He was young, boyishly handsome, strong and vibrantly alive. She would mourn if he were to die. Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away.
"Why do you cry?" He asked, taking her hand in his own.
"I was thinking..." She sniffed and took a handkerchief from her reticule. "I was thinking that war is such a waste. I do not want you to die."
"I will not die." He said solemnly. He was such a dear, foolish boy, she thought and dabbed her eyes. "Do not be sad, Meg. It is wrong for a soldier to ask a girl to wait for him, so I won't ask. Neither would I ask you to sacrifice your virtue for a night of passion. But I ask that you let me write to you. It means so much to a soldier that someone is there even though they are far away. When I am alone or frightened, I will think of you and you will give me courage."
"Yes." She said. To say more would have been to prolong the morbid conversation, and he'd successfully redeemed himself in her eyes. For a moment she thought that he would ask her to become his virginal sacrifice.
The thought instantly made her think of Erik. He'd asked if that was her intent in following him that night when she followed him into the dungeons of the city. If he were to ask it now, her answer would still be in the negative. But for different reasons. It would not be a sacrifice to love him, but would make her whole, if he would only let her.
The atmosphere of the tea house had changed suddenly and Meg dragged her thoughts away from Erik. The soldiers, whom she'd met earlier, were suddenly brandishing weapons and shouting at a group of men. Reggie leaped to his feet pulling her with him.
"Revolutionaries! Get out of here!" He shouted and half dragged her toward the door. Before they reached it, however, a barrel of a man blocked their path and put his fist in Reggie's face. Meg screamed as Reggie crumpled to the floor.
"Edwin!" She screamed, remembering the driver. Someone grabbed her from behind. The smell of liquor assaulted her nostrils. Her stomach threaten to retch. She tried to break free, but the grasp that held her was firm. She was lifted into the air and carried. Edwin came rushing in and saw her first. The stricken look on his face told her that her plight was hopeless. "Get Reggie! He's hurt!" Edwin looked to where her gaze lead and saw Reggie in heap on the floor. His gaze returned to her in confusion. "Get Reggie!" She ordered again and this time, he obeyed, lifting Reggie's limp form under the arms and dragging him out the door.
Swords clashed. Men swore. Women screamed. Grunts, groans and a few cheers sounded dimly through the blood pounding in her ears. She kicked at her assailant, but to no avail. She heard a sound that may have been just a whisper over her head, and suddenly the grip went slack. She was sliding to the floor. Her legs wouldn't hold her, though she tried to stand. Again she was being lifted. The room was suddenly still as though everyone was paralyzed as she. She cried out again.
"Don't fight me." The words were whispered in her ear. Arms cradled her. Relief washed through her and she wept, the tears blinding her.
"Erik!" Her fingers went to his face, searching for the mask. It was there. The leather was soft. She caressed it.
No one made a move to stop them as Erik carried her out the door and into the cool night air. She was only vaguely aware of Edwin as he held the carriage door open for Erik to put her inside. Erik hesitated after setting her inside.
"Please, don't leave." She whispered her plea, placing her hand on his chest. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm.
"To what end?" His eyes met hers with piercing intensity. Was he angry with her?
"Please, Monsieur. It would be safer for the lady." Edwin advised. They all looked at Reggie. He was lying on the seat of carriage, opposite Meg, pale and unconscious. It was clear that he would be useless for some time.
"If he wakes up too soon, I will have to knock him out again." Erik said grimly to Meg after climbing into the carriage. "I don't relish the idea that I might have to explain myself to the over-eager upstart." But he reached out and took hold of Reggie's wrist to check his pulse. "He'll live." The younger man grunted in reply, then sighed as though he was in a pleasant slumber. "He likes to drink, does he?" Erik commented scathingly.
Meg didn't feel like defending the younger man at the moment. On impulse, she rested her head on Erik's shoulder. He didn't resist, and neither spoke.
Meg wondered if this was all she and Erik would have together, impromptu encounters and nothing more. Why didn't he push her away now as he'd done before? Had something changed? As they neared the boarding house, she summoned all her courage to speak her thoughts.
"I don't want to go home."
"Where else would you go?" He asked softly.
"Anywhere."
"Why?"
"I just need some time to think. Mother will want to know what happened tonight. I don't know how much I can tell her. She may hear of it eventually from other sources. I don't want to face her right now." She said. Perhaps her logic was flimsy, but it was all she could manage for now.
"You might just tell her the truth." He suggested wryly.
"Even the part about you saving me from a fate worse than death?"
He chuckled. It was the first time she'd heard him laugh. "Is that what I did?"
"Well, because of you, we won't have to find out." She said defensively.
"You're flirting with me again. Didn't the last time you practiced your wiles on me teach you anything?" He said gruffly.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it did." She replied. He hesitated only slightly when she didn't elaborate.
"What did you learn?" He said as the carriage stopped in front of the boarding house.
"That I liked it when you kissed me."
"I should tell your mother to keep a better eye on you. You will have every man in the city going insane with jealousy."
"How can you say that?" Meg objected.
"I just sat through an evening where I had to listen to you and Reggie carrying on and now you want me to add myself to your list of lovers. How much do you think a man can take?" He sprung the door open and almost jumped out as though he was trying to be free of her. He held her hand as she stepped out, closed the door to the carriage and nodded to Edwin. The carriage drove away leaving them in the dimly lit street.
"I do not love Reggie." She said as Erik turned from her. "He's just a boy."
"And you're a girl. It should all work out for you." He said with his back to her.
"Did you hear me? I don't love Reggie and I'm not a child." Meg said as he walked away.
"I am very much aware of that. Go inside, before you start another riot." He called out as he disappeared in the thickening fog.