Erik took a moment to let his heart rate return to normal. He knew Meg was getting married, but he thought that in time he would get used to the idea. If he kept his mind busy, he wouldn't have to think about her. The invitation was probably an accident. There was no way for Meg to know of his title. More likely than not, it was an automatic courtesy to invite the nobility to these functions if it was being hosted by another of the aristocracy. He knew that the absence of an invitation was considered an insult in some circles.
It was ironic, however that Lily Fairmont would be inviting him to Meg's engagement party when he'd once been an uninvited guest to her own. Another strange coincidence was that it was to be a masque. An inkling of a thought presented itself to him. Meg wanted him to be there. Why would she think that he would be interested in seeing her with another man? Didn't she know that he'd want to kill the man that touched her? Of course, she knew. She was baiting him again. Meg had no intention of marrying the disgraceful Biagio Delvoix. She had better sense. It was a plot to force him to declare his feelings for her. Damn her! He would not be manipulated! It angered him that she would think he was so gullible.
Erik buried himself in the library working on the accounts. They were a mess. Mostly they were out of date and had been for the last five years. He was beginning to understand why his grandmother was so willing to let him take on the duties of the Marquis de Leon. Not another living soul would have done it. Fulmeroix had tried to keep up with them but it was clear that it had gotten to be too much for him alone. But why hadn't Grandmére Eustacia hired someone else? It was late afternoon when Erik discovered the answer. She had hired someone, someone who had misrepresented the accounts and stolen a sizable sum of money.
Again, the piano beckoned to Erik to release the tension building in him. The works of Beethoven fit his mood at the moment. He could play the tunes by memory and by ear. It was rare that he needed to see a piece of music more than twice. The music seemed to imprint itself if it was worth keeping. It wasn't uncommon for him to play his own original material, though he'd written little of it down. Sometimes he couldn't remember it past the first time he played a piece through.
A musical phrase had begun to reiterate itself in his head. Eventually he started playing it on the piano. Follow up phrases and variations presented themselves on cue. It was a rather passionate composition with varied dynamics and an almost heartbreaking sweetness. He played it twice through enjoying the feel of the responsive instrument beneath his fingers. When he finished, Erik sat with his elbows leaning against the piano and his hands brought together, almost as if her were in the act of prayer. In was a contemplative gesture, though at the moment his mind was rejecting conscious thought. The feeling that he was being watched came over him.
Patsy stood behind him. At first, he didn't even recognize her. She wore a white cap to cover her baldness. The dove gray dress she wore fit her badly. Her eyes were prominent on her thin, pale face. Erik stood, unsure of how to respond to her. The extent of her condition was a mystery to him in spite of his good intentions, she scared him a little with her vacant look.
"Patsy." Erik greeted her kindly. She'd never shown any repulsion of the mask but neither had she seen him in broad daylight. She barely looked at him. Instead, she stared at the piano. Erik stepped away from it to allow her access. She sat down on the bench and began to play a little ditty Erik recognized from Bach's very famous The Well-Tempered Clavier. He let her continue. She had been taught to play somewhere by someone. It opened up more questions to her background.
"Patsy, who taught you to play?" Erik asked, hunched down to her level so that he could see her eyes. She wasn't inclined to raise them to look at him and she always kept them down cast.
"Papa." She said, but still didn't look at him.
"What happened to your Papa?"
"Small pox. Everybody died, Mama, Papa, Nana..."
"How old were you when they died?" Erik probed. It was better that he learn as much as possible while she was willing to share information.
"Seven...seventeen."
"How old are you now?"
"Seventeen." She said, frowning. She didn't look a day under thirty. Pock marks on her neck and forehead indicated that she was a survivor of the disease that claimed her family.
"Did you go to school and learn to read and write?" Erik asked, softly.
"Yes. I can do sums, too." She smiled now and looked at him for the first time. "I was the best in my class." She announced proudly. There a was a childish element in her declaration.
"What else can you do?"
Patsy furrowed her brow in puzzlement. "I don't know."
"Do you want to stay here with Milton and Stella? They will look after you. I may have to leave." It would ease his mind if she were content to stay at the mansion for now. If she decided to leave, he wouldn't stop her. He didn't want to be her jailor.
"They shaved my head!" She said, indignant.
"It was because of the lice. You don't want lice, do you?"
"No!" She wrinkled her nose at the thought.
"Your hair will grow back and be as lovely as ever," Erik reassured her, though he'd never seen it other than a ratty, tangled mess.
Garrick and Milton returned from their shopping with packages weighing them down. Their efforts yielded three morning dresses and two pretty frocks for Patsy, one yellow and one blue. Patsy was delighted with the new dresses and Erik could see a change in her when she took the first dress out of its box.
Garrick was wearing his new suit and shoes proudly. Erik found a deeply satisfying joy in witnessing their pleasure. He couldn't resist smiling. At Erik's direction, Milton had purchased something for everyone in the house hold. There were useful and necessary items such as shoes and boots, bonnets and hand lotions, and some pretty trinkets for the girls.
"This is like Christmas in August. Thank you, Monsieur!" Wendy exclaimed. The others agreed. Erik was completely taken off guard when Wendy threw her arms around his waist and embraced him tightly. She released him before he could visibly react. The shock of the contact passed quickly. But, the emotion that swept over him choked him and he turned away so that the others wouldn't see his reaction. No one was fooled, however, and Stella and Milton exchanged glances. Wendy knew that she had bridged some unspoken boundary instantly when everyone became suddenly silent. Stella put her hand on Wendy's shoulder to reassure the girl that she had not committed an inexcusable error with her behavior.
Erik excused himself and went to his room. He didn't want to weep and fought the lump in his throat. Young Wendy had no way of knowing how her innocent heart had affected him. He'd actually planned on being somewhere else when Milton handed out the gifts. He didn't want to be in the awkward situation he'd found himself in just now. It was a failure on his part to mention that little detail to Milton.
Even now, he wasn't sure what exactly had prompted him to tell Milton to buy the gifts except that he felt extremely uncomfortable bestowing gifts upon one or two people and ignoring everyone else. Something had changed in that moment when Wendy embraced him. It was acceptance that was shared by everyone. Erik had felt it when they waited for his reaction to Wendy's demonstration of appreciation. They cared and feared to offend him. No one could chastise her for her genuine act. It was undoubtedly a rare exchange that would not be repeated. Erik hoped as much. He just wasn't very good at this kind of thing.
Erik didn't sleep well that night. Eventually, he dressed and left the house to find some peace on the banks of the Seine. He rode the stallion through the streets of Paris. It was strange how once the earth beneath those streets had been his home. Now it was as though it had all been a dream or a nightmare, depending on how he chose to look at it.
The cellars of the opera, the productions that were so important to him and Christine were also like another life. There were months when not a day went by that he didn't lament the loss of his lovely Christine. He still thought of her as his. At least the image he still held on to in his mind was his creation. Perhaps the fatal error of their relationship was the impossibly high pedestal he'd placed her on. And, on her part, how could he measure up to her expectations when she believed that he was an angel?
His thoughts inevitably sought Meg. He was still angry with her. Her plan of entrapment was an easy puzzle to put together. He'd almost fallen for it. She had to have known that he had feelings for her. It was all he could do to resist her those days and nights she'd helped him with Garrick. He'd betrayed himself more than once by kissing her. Surely, she'd felt his heart race with her own. She'd accused him of using her affections against her when he'd climbed up to her balcony. Now she used his emotions against him. Was she really that desperate to devise a plot to force his hand? His own thought surprised him. How could she force him into declaring his love? Only he could do such a thing. She was simply sending him a message that he was being an idiot.
How many times in his lifetime had he been offered the kind of love Meg symbolized. Not even once. She scared him. He was afraid that at some time for some reason, she would regret being his. It would be too much for him to lose her as he'd lost Christine. He'd really placed so much faith in Christine that when she betrayed him, he'd lost more than the woman he loved. He lost hope in ever being loved. Though it would have been easy enough, he could hardly blame Christine. She had never professed to love him, never deceived him with promises she did not keep. He had done that to himself.
Now, Erik struggled with his demons of self-doubt. If he did not go to Meg and profess his desire for her, she may never know that she was loved as she was. For many months, Erik believed that Meg would find a good and worthy husband who would cherish her as she deserved. If such a man existed for her, where was he? Why did he let her become engaged to a swine like Delvoix? Not for the first time, the thought occurred to Erik that he was the one who let her sink so low as to put herself in such a dangerous plan. He was the man who loved her as she deserved to be loved, and he would be the man who let her down if he did not find the courage within himself to reach out to her.
Erik did not return to the mansion that night, but spread his cloak on the grassy bank of the Seine and dosed restfully. At the crack of dawn, Erik mounted his horse and rode back to the mansion. He took care of his horse and tack. There was no point in waking William; Erik actually enjoyed the time spent with his horses. The household was still asleep. Erik found his role as Lord of the Manor easier to manage in empty rooms. He was slowly getting used to people, but he was a long way from being able to relax in the company of very many people at once. Erik explored the gardens, the barn and the odd nooks and corners of the grounds. It was a beautiful place. It would have been a great place to be a child. High brick walls protected the grounds on all sides. A gravel drive led to the stables the back of the property. The grounds took in a little over two acres. The house wasn't in the heart of Paris. But, it was close enough to have most of the advantages without the disadvantages of being so close to one's neighbors that one couldn't piss in a pot without everybody else knowing about it.
When Erik returned to the house, Milton was busy with the daily routines. The butler greeted Erik cheerfully and asked if he would like a cup of tea or coffee before breakfast.
"Coffee for now and tea for breakfast, thank you. Where is Garrick?"
"In the kitchen, I believe. I will tell him you require his presence immediately."
"He can find me in the library." Erik was surveying the portrait of his father with interest when Garrick found him.
"M'sir." Erik turned at the sound of Garrick's voice.
"Good morning. Do you think you can hire a carriage and go back to the Chateau by yourself?"
"Of course, M'sir."
"Do you think you can take a blind man with you? Francois is blind. I want you to offer him a job as our cook at the Chateau. If he refuses, we will have to eat your cooking. Tell him that he can name his wage."
"I think I could manage it. What about a housekeeper? You said we needed a housekeeper too."
"I don't think we'll have time to interview anyone. You will be leaving today, soon. Unless you know someone we can trust, you'll have to do the housework yourself."
"I know somebody!" Garrick said quickly.
"Don't be too hasty. The mask may frighten them."
"I won't be careless, M'sir. May I ask why the urgent departure?"
"My grandmother is due to arrive sometime this week. I want to be gone when she gets here. But, I can't leave as of yet. I will most likely follow you this evening or early tomorrow. I may be bringing a guest to the chateau. Try to put it in some order before I arrive. We left it in a bit of disarray, as I recall." Erik told the boy where he would find Francois. "Don't hesitate to tell him Erik is the Marquis de Leon. Even at that, he may have some difficulty believing it."
"Are you bringing Patsy with you?" Garrick asked.
"No. It may not be such a good idea to leave her here. Take her with you. I don't think she'll give you any trouble."
Garrick left after breakfast to take Erik's offer to Francois. He returned shortly before lunch with a hired carriage and the message that Francois would gladly take his offer. Patsy was like a reluctant child, but Erik was able to coax her into going with Garrick.
Erik was relieved that they were gone when his grandmother turned up at the mansion late that afternoon with her entourage of servants. He didn't know why, but he disliked explaining himself to the woman. It was even more irritating that she could read him as easily as she did. He didn't dine with her that evening and he knew it bothered her. If he could have avoided her entirely, he would have. He almost managed to get out the front door, when she saw him.
"All dressed up? Where are you off to that you can't even greet your grandmother?" Eustacia's voice crackled from the doorway of the library. Erik stopped, but did not turn and kept his hand on the door nob.
"I had hoped that I could avoid you altogether. But, since I failed at that... How are you, Grandmére? I trust you traveled well." He turned to look at her, but not enough to reveal the mask.
"You're looking dapper." She approached him, using her cane for support and stopped just a few feet away. The instinct to run battled weakly with the strict lessons his mother had taught him about respecting one's elders. Erik blushed from her bold inspection. "I know that look. You're going courting. I don't suppose I should be surprised, but I am." She said with a laugh that implied her approval. "Are you going to marry her?" Eustacia demanded, her eyes shining triumphantly through cloudy cataracts.
"Only if you have a priest here when I return." Erik replied, and left after dropping a generous bow to his stupefied grandmére.
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Meg fiddled nervously with her fan. The gold spines and purple lace of her delicate fan matched perfectly with her dress. It was full skirted with eight tiers of purple lace ruffles trimmed on the edges with flat gold ribbon. The bodice was solid gold silk forming deep vees in the back and front, accentuating her flat stomach. Rows of narrow, purple velvet ribbon created a striped effect on the gold bodice. The lace sleeves were short and full with a wide ruffle reaching just below her elbows. The neckline was low and square with a draw-string, fashioning a ruffled affect with a purple lace inset. Her mask was small and gold with purple glitter framing the edge. It really did little to disguise her, barely covering the upper portion of her face. On her feet were dainty gold leather dancing shoes. Her hair was pinned up high and a purple beaded barrette.
Her fiancé was never far from her side. Delvoix was a short, stocky man with red hair so tightly curled, it bordered on frizzy. Meg avoided looking at him as much as possible. His face was even redder than his hair. He seemed all one color. Even his eyes had a bloodshot quality that seemed to go appropriately with the rest of him. He was inclined to want to put his hands on her, holding her hand or putting his arm about her waist. Meg tried not to shrink away and even let him kiss her on the cheek for appearance sake. He appeared to be enjoying himself immensely.
The party was a gala event. Almost everyone with an invitation turned out. Meg had never met most of the people there, but she smiled and greeted each one of them dutifully. Raoul and Christine were there, mingling sociably with the other guests. Privately, she wished Christine had found some other pressing engagement that would have interfered with her coming to Paris. Meg really didn't want her friend seeing her in the degraded position of being engaged to Delvoix. It was after ten o'clock when she escaped the crowd and found Lily introducing some guests to one another.
"How much longer are we going to keep up this charade?" Meg whispered low in Lily's ear.
"Don't give up yet. The night is young." Lily answered, cheerfully. The two women found a quiet corner to talk.
"That is what bothers me. How can I take another hour of Biagio trying to kiss me? He makes my skin crawl." Meg complained.
"Remember, it is for a greater cause. Smile and think of something else." Lily suggested.
Biagio interrupted their discussion, whining that Meg should meet his cousin. Meg rolled her eyes at Lily in a silent plea as he pulled her away. The cousin wanted a dance and Biagio seemed pleased with the prospect. The cousin was taller than Biagio and had black hair, but the reddened complection seemed to run in the family. Meg didn't bother to remember his name. She wanted to forget about her phony engagement as quickly as possible.
A glance in Lily's direction told her that Lily had found a charming partner. Meg could not see his face, because his back was toward her. Lily was smiling and blushing prettily. There was something familiar about him, but Meg was whirled away before she got a good look at him. The dance ended and Biagio claimed her for the next one... and the next one. When she looked again, Lily and the stranger were no longer in sight. Biagio was holding Meg too close and his face was almost pressed against her breasts. She tried to keep him at arms length. Each time she relaxed, he moved closer.
Meg was almost to the point of screaming when the bright lights went off, suddenly. With the exception of a few candelabras, the house was dark. Biagio tried to take advantage of the moment and pull her even closer. She pushed him away in disgust, gasping with revulsion.
She screamed when she was grabbed and hauled off her feet. She was lifted high and carried over a large shoulder. There was something familiar and safe about the arms that supported her. She almost cried with relief. Aside from the detail that she was half upside down and blood was rushing to her head, she had never felt so alive!
Erik carried her through the door without delay to the gardens where she had first kissed him those months ago. His horse was waiting for them. Meg was set up on the horse's back. Erik pulled himself up behind her and kicked the horse into action. Neither spoke as the horse carried them into the night.
There was so much Meg wanted to say. Her mind was a muddle of questions. But, she dared not speak for fear breaking the silent communication she shared with him now. It was a moonless, starless night and the street of Paris were dark with the exception of a few street lamps and the occasional lantern hanging near a doorway. The wind was stirring and getting stronger by the minute. Erik wrapped his cloak about her wordlessly. A flash of lightening and a clap of thunder announced the arrival of the down pour that followed. It was a warm rain that washed down upon them. The horse slowed, carefully finding its way through the puddles and the pouring rain toward the mansion where a dry stable and sweet hay rewarded his journey.
The horse stopped before the iron gates of the grand house. Erik dismounted, opened the gates and led the horse, with Meg still on its back, up the stone drive. The house was alight with every window pouring out a warm and welcoming glow. Meg stared. Once again, she was rendered speechless. Not two words had been exchanged between Erik and herself. She feared that if she spoke now, the spell would be broken and she would find that it was all a dream. Erik lifted her off the horse and carried her up the steps to the great double doors. It was a perfect and glorious dream!
She was carried into the foyer. No sooner had they come through the door, when a flurry of people surrounded them, some gasping in surprise. An elderly woman with a cane approached them saying something about not believing her eyes. A clergyman appeared out of nowhere and tittered something politely about the happy couple. It was surreal. Someone said something about letting the girl get into some dry clothes...
"No." It was Erik, who spoke. "Marry us now and be done with it." There was calm and matter of fact tone to his voice that brought Meg out of her trance. Erik placed her gently on her feet. He looked deeply into her eyes, searching expectantly for her refusal or acceptance.
"I am Father Ramon. Do you want the long version or the short one?" The priest cleared his throat. He was an older man, possibly in his late sixties, who possessed a kind twinkle in his eyes.
"The short one!" Erik declared emphatically.
"May I have the name of the bride?" Father Ramon looked expectantly at Meg. This was the point of no return, Meg thought. If she allowed her pride or fears to interfere, it would be to her eternal sorrow. She forced herself to ignore that her hair was ruined, plastered against her face and neck in dark and dripping strands and her dress clung flattened and damp against her legs. She removed the mask for the first time that evening. She wanted Erik to know beyond a shadow of doubt who stood before him.
"Margaret Adele Giry." She supplied.
The shortened ceremony was still too long by Meg's standards and she was shivering with cold before she gave her consent to be Erik's wife til death did they part. As part of their vows, they kissed but in the presence of so many strangers it was an uncomfortable moment for Meg. Erik, too, didn't seem inclined to prolong it longer than necessary.
"My dear, I am Erik's grandmother, Eustacia." The old woman approached Meg, beaming her approval. "I worried this day would never happen. Be patient with him, dear. It will be hard at times, but nothing worth having ever comes easy. You'll need a warm bath immediately, so you don't get a chill, dear." Eustacia clasped Meg's hands in her own and the tears puddled in the old woman's eyes.
"It is late and we are all very tired." Eutsatcia addressed the small crowd gathered in the foyer. "Thank you Father Ramon. You can expect my donation to the church on Sunday. I will be attending the early service. Now, it is my bedtime, and I expect that everyone will do likewise and let me get some sleep. Alice, find my liniment and bring me a brandy, Milton. My knees get stiffer by the day." The old woman departed followed by Alice, who hovered over her attentively. Father Ramon blessed Meg and Erik and left quickly. Erik introduced Meg to the servants who remained. They seemed warm and eager to please her.
"I must apologize for the inconvenience, Madame. The marquis did not warn us that we would be having a wedding this evening." The butler said, bowing deeply and giving Erik a cool look.
"I was a little surprised, myself, Miton." Erik said reprovingly. "Honestly, I did not think Eustacia would take me serious about the priest. I really had no idea that I would be married this night any more than you did. I confess I underestimated the old girl. But, for the life of me, I can't say that I'm sorry."
Erik turned to Meg. "I, also, apologize for my clumsy ways. If you will forgive me for neglecting you for so long, I will make it up to you for the rest of my life."
Meg did not trust herself yet to speak. There was so much to take in. The butler had called Erik 'The Marquis.' The house and servants seemed to know him. He had a grandmother, for pity sake. When did all this come about? There was so much she didn't know. Erik had another life that she knew nothing about. All the time, he lived in the Paris Opera House and in the room under the laundry, he was a marquis. She had pitied him, believing him to be a misunderstood genius. By his own admission, he did not plan to marry her until his grandmother interfered. Suddenly, she felt foolish and small.
"Your bath is ready, Madame." A young woman around her own age told her. The girl called her Madame. Meg was a married woman. For some reason, she didn't feel it. She was a part of the ceremony, but there was something missing. Erik was still looking at her expectantly. Oh yes, he wanted her forgiveness. She stared at him. Even if she tried, she could not be angry with him, but for now she was cold and her teeth chattered uncontrollably. He seemed to sense that she was beyond coping with the details of their marriage for the moment.
"Darcy, take Madame de Leon to her bath." He said turning away.
The girl nodded. Meg followed Darcy up the grand staircase to her room.
The rich mahogany furniture formed a mellow contrast to the wine colored draperies and pink roses embroidered on the cream bedspread. Clusters of pink roses twined with blue ribbon formed a showy pattern on the thick, plush carpet. Fresh cut roses in perfect pink, open blooms filled a crystal vase on the low table next to the roomy bed. Their sweet fragrance filled the room. The bathroom connected her's and Erik's room. Darcy gave her that piece of information.
Darcy helped Meg remove her dress and left her to her bath. The steaming water felt too hot until Meg adjusted to the stinging sensation on her cool skin. She washed her hair and sank down into the deep, soothing heat. The water covered everything except her head. She'd about decided that she never wanted to leave when Darcy appeared with a large soft towel and offered to help brush her hair. Meg found a delicate white night gown and robe laid out on her bed. It was a beautiful silk and satin creation. Meg almost cried with the loveliness of the piece.
"Where did it come from?" She asked Darcy.
"It arrived from Madame Fairmont just moments ago. There is a note for you." Darcy handed Meg a envelope. Meg read the message inside: 'Dear Meg, I have been saving this for you as a wedding gift. I don't know when I will see you again and I wanted you to have it now. I met Erik and wish both of you every happiness. Also, I have sent some of your clothing and will send the rest of your things tomorrow. Love Always, Lily. P.S. I told you he would come.'
Meg smiled though eyes, moistened by unshed tears. She was fortunate to have Lily as a friend.
Darcy brushed Meg's hair til it was dry, then left. Meg put on Lily's gift. Never had she worn such a fine and beautiful gown. In the vanity mirror, Meg saw her reflection. Her skin and hair stood out in golden contrast to the angelic white of the gown.
The mirror revealed a motion behind her. She froze and watched as Erik approached. His gaze met her's in the mirror. He wore a white shirt and black trousers. The mask was white and reflected softly in the candlelight. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but changed his mind and stared at her reflection along side his own. Breaking the spell, his eyes left hers and he touched her hair, lifted a strand and let it slide through his fingers. His lips touched the exposed skin of her shoulder. The new growth of his beard was course against her skin. Meg closed her eyes and stifled a gasp of delight, not wanting him to misinterpret her action. Leaning against him she let him know that she was a willing participant, but still she was unsure of her boundaries.
He was her husband, yet there so much about him that was a mystery. She would let him initiate each new step of their lovemaking and trust him as she'd trusted no other. Already, she sensed that he would not hurt her or expect anything that would make her uncomfortable.
Reaching past her, Erik blew out the flames of each of the candles on the vanity. Only one candle remained lit next the bed. Erik drew her with him and extinguished it also. Meg knew that, for now, he would only feel safe in the dark. In the darkness, she gave him her soul and body without holding back the gifts and passion he required of her.