CHAPTER 33
Meg said her goodbyes to Raoul and made her way to the Opera Populaire to see if she could get more information on Marivaux's play. She wanted to be able to break away from chorus girl to actress. She hoped to learn more about the part of Silvia's servant Lisette, so she could try out for the role. She only prayed her mother would not be too upset with her decision to abandon being a future prima ballerina. She loved ballet, but it was more of her mother's dream than her own.
Meg made her way to the makeshift office that the managers used, but found it empty. She sighed, wrinkling her face in disappointment. "They are probably out front with the crewmen," she gathered.
Curious as always, she decided to check out Christine's old dressing room.
Watching Meg take leave of his wayward brother, Philippe took it upon himself to follow Meg to the opera house. "Time to put an end to this nonsense!" Philippe thought. There was no way that he would let his brother and his family fall victim to ridicule. Not after everything Christine had already done. As it were, it would be months before the gossip would settle among the upper class society. It may not have bothered Raoul, but to Philippe, who had spent the better part of his life building on the de Chagny name, it meant career suicide. He wouldn't let his brother's follies go lightly.
He followed Meg through the charred opera house and watched as she went from the makeshift office then down the long hall to the changing area. Meg disappeared into the last door, which used to be Christine's dressing room. He remembered it quite well from when Raoul courted, "that bitch!" He thought bitterly.
Making his way to the door, he cracked it open slightly and looked inside. Meg was seated at the vanity table, gesturing dramatically at her reflection in the mirror.
The carriage pulled up to the front of the opera house and as it came to a complete stop, Victor hopped down from his seat and came around to escort Christine into the building.
She insisted that she would not be long and assured him not to worry.
He hesitantly nodded as he looked up at the burned out shell of the once opulent Opera Populaire. He couldn't argue with her. She had the face of an angel and for that reason he could not deny her wishes. He kissed her hand and she took her leave, waving back at him from the top of the stairs before she entered the building.
Philippe pushed open the door and cleared his throat. "Well, it appears that you, Mademoiselle, are clearly losing control of your faculties."
Meg stood up and addressed Philippe, "Oh, Monsieur Comte, you startled me. I didn't think anyone was around."
Removing his gloves and tossing them onto the ashen settee, he walked towards Meg.
"I don't know what it is that makes my brother so compelled to seek refuge in dancing girls."
Philippe now stood before Meg and brought his hand up to her face, caressing her cheek.
Meg felt very uncomfortable at Philippe's forwardness.
"Pardon me, Monsieur, but I really must be going." Meg tried to move, but he grabbed her by the shoulders.
"No need to be in a hurry on my account. In fact, you should stay, so I can get to know you better," he said with a sneer.
"Please, Monsieur, you're hurting me," Meg said, her voice shaking.
"Come now… you are no different from any of the other common street whores that walk about these city streets. I should like to know what it is that makes my brother so smitten." Philippe forced his mouth over her neck.
Meg tried to push him away, but his strength was too overpowering. She bit down on his ear and he released his hold on her. She tried to run out of the door, but he caught her firmly by the arm.
"You will regret that, you little tease!" He said as he held onto his ear.
The warmth of his blood seeped between his fingers. As he inspected the blood within his hand, he became enraged. Without thought, he brought his bloodied hand across her face knocking her to the ground.
The force of the blow rendered her unconscious on the floor before him.
A noise beyond the dressing room door made him turn his attention to it.
Christine made her way through the opera house looking for the managers. "They must be out to lunch," she thought as she looked into their office. She decided to check the main stage to inspect the damage the fire had left behind.
Everything was burned beyond recognition and the only thing she could make out was the broken chandelier, embedded into the stage. She sighed as she thought back on the events that led to the opera's destruction. It seemed so long ago to her. Being with Erik seemed to make time nonexistent. She smiled at the thought of their first meeting as he came to her through the mirror of her dressing room.
Being drawn by her thoughts, she found herself down the hall from her old dressing room. She furrowed her brow as she heard a noise coming from the direction before her.
She walked down the hall with care and stopped before the door. She heard two muffled voices, as she cracked the door slightly to peer inside. What she saw frightened her beyond all comprehension. She saw Philippe strike Meg and she now lay on the floor, unmoving.
As Philippe turned, Christine could see a trail of blood smattered across the left side of his face, down his neck. She gasped suddenly and Philippe shifted his attention to the door.
Christine turned and tried to run, but a crazed Philippe quickly held her back.
"Leaving so soon?" Philippe said maniacally.
"Let goof me! You're not yourself, Philippe!" Christine insisted.
"Au contraire, mon cher! I am more myself than I have ever been! I am taking care of matters that should have been dealt with long ago. Now, if you would be so kind as to take your place alongside your whoring counterpart!" He said with disdain as he shoved her into the room.
Christine knelt by Meg, trying to wake her to no avail.
Philippe slammed the door behind him as he walked up to the two girls.
"Please, Philippe… she needs a doctor. Just let us go!" Christine pleaded.
"She will be tended to where she's going," Philippe chuckled wickedly.
Christine stood up facing him. "You're not well, Philippe. Let me get Raoul and we can discuss things rationally."
"You mean so you can cast your venomous charms upon him and bend him to your will, do you not? I will not have it!" Philippe grabbed onto Christine's neck firmly. "You and that conspiring wench there will do exactly as I say. We will leave for La Rochelle post haste, where I can be rid of the both of you!" Philippe spat out as he tossed her aside forcefully.
Christine hit her head against the vanity table and blackness consumed her as she came to rest on the floor beside Meg.
Victor sat reading the day's paper as he awaited his mistress. Looking up from his paper he noticed a man quickly running down the stairs motioning to his apparent driver. After exchanging a few words the driver maneuvered his carriage and Victor watched as it disappeared around the corner. Shifting his attention back to the man, he watched as he ran back up the steps and into the building.
As per Erik's request in the message he received, Nadir made his way towards the Opera Populaire to check on the progression of the reconstruction. He had also mentioned that Christine would be there and that he would be able to ride with her back to the estate for dinner.
Nadir noticed Erik's driver out front, confirming that Christine was indeed inside.
Walking up to the carriage, he addressed the driver. "Good afternoon, Victor!" Nadir smiled.
"Ah, Monsieur Khan! Good day to you!" Victor said extending his hand to the Persian.
Shaking the driver's hand, Nadir asked, "Has Madame Delacroix been inside long?"
Victor took out his pocket watch and rubbed at his beard. "She seems to be taking a bit longer than she specified."
Always the pessimist, Nadir tapped on his chin with his finger. "Perhaps I shall see what is keeping her."
"Do you wish for me to accompany you, Monsieur?" Victor asked.
"That's quite alright," Nadir answered as he made his way towards the steps.
Resigned to wait with the carriage, Victor shook his head and climbed back up to the driver's bench, picking up his paper once more.
Madame Giry made her way down the street toward Beauvais's Bakery. "That child is always losing track of time," she thought, shaking her head in disappointment. She had expected Meg to be home in time to prepare for tonight's dinner, but she had not arrived. She would surely pull her daughter by the ear, if she were indeed still at the bakery.
Raoul spent most of the afternoon chatting with the bakery owner after Meg had left him. He found it refreshing just to spend the day casually. He didn't want to deal with business matters or chat about politics. He found Adrien Beauvais very interesting, as the baker recalled his travels across several countries, learning different techniques from head pastry chefs. Raoul couldn't believe there was so much skill and discipline involved in the culinary field.
As they enjoyed their cup of tea outside of the bakery, Raoul spotted Madame Giry coming toward them.
"Messieurs," Madame Giry bowed.
Both men stood and addressed her, offering her a seat.
"Non, merci. I'm just looking for my daughter," Madame Giry said, looking to Raoul.
"Madame, she left me awhile ago, for the opera house. I have been here with Monsieur Beauvais since she took her leave. Has she not returned home by now?" Raoul questioned curiously.
"Non, I believed her to still be here with you, Monsieur Vicomte," Madame Giry said furrowing her brow.
"Allow me to escort you to the opera house, Madame," Raoul said with concern, offering his arm.
There was no time to argue. Madame Giry took Raoul's arm and they bid farewell to the baker.
Nadir made his way through the blackened foyer and to the manager's office. Realizing no one was present, he made his way to the stage area and saw nothing but a few ashen footprints, too small to be a gentleman's print.
Following them to the long hallway that lead to the changing area, he noticed the footprints became erratic and now several other prints blended within them.
Nadir called out, "Christine? Are you down here?"
There was no answer.
Checking several rooms, he came up empty handed. His nerves began to settle in as he came to the last door, which he knew to be Christine's old dressing room.
As he got to the door he saw several drops of crimson. He crouched down and touched his finger to it. "Blood," he noted as he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.
Nadir unsheathed his Jambiya dagger and carefully opened the door.
Making sure it was clear, he perused the room for any sign of Christine. He could make out more droplets of crimson and on the ashen settee was a pair of leather gloves. It was definitely out of place and something to go on.
He noticed more blood on the corner of the vanity table and on the floor was a string of light blue ribbon.
As perplexing as the scene was, Nadir was certain of the outcome that stood before him. His years of training in Persia and being the Daroga had served him well in calculating evidence. He let out a sigh as he thought, "Erik is not going to be pleased. Whoever did this will live a short life under the Punjab."
Collecting what he found, Nadir made his was out of the opera house. Making his way down the front steps, he saw Madame Giry and the Vicomte walking toward him.
"Madame, might I have a word with you in private?" Nadir asked bowing to her.
"Of course, pardon me, Monsieur," she said, patting Raoul's arm.
Nadir walked her over to Erik's carriage as Victor hopped down from his seat to join them in conversation.
Raoul stood watching the three and wondering who the strange foreigner was. "Could it be the same foreigner Philippe spoke of?" He thought. He noticed Madame Giry shaking her head, and then grabbing hold of the oddly dressed man, shaking him. She was noticeably distraught, before the two men scrambled to catch her as she fainted.
Raoul had seen enough. He made his way to them and demanded, "What is going on? What did you tell her to make her pass out like that?"
Nadir and Victor looked at each other then glanced back in Raoul's direction.
"Bring her into the carriage, Victor, and make sure she is comfortable. I will take us to the estate." Nadir ordered.
Victor nodded in compliance and carried Madame Giry into the carriage.
"Monsieur Vicomte, I am Nadir Khan, my apologies if I am being curt, but if you will join me, I can explain on the way," Nadir said as he climbed up into the driver's bench.
"On the way to where, Monsieur Khan?" Raoul questioned suspiciously.
"To his estate," Nadir said simply, knowing Raoul would understand.
With a quick nod, Raoul climbed into the seat next to Nadir and they made their way down the street, headed for The House of Roses.
Disclaimer
I do not own any rights to Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de Marivaux or his play, "The Game of Love and Chance."