Author's Note: It seems I'm developing a pattern here. A chapter every couple of days during the week, and one chapter a day Fri-Sun.
Anyway, there is a Leroux tribute in this chapter, brownies to anyone who can find it!
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Chapter 16: An Empress and a Chorus Girl
"Madame Giry, I insist."
She looked up at Erik, fresh tears welling up in her eyes all over again. How many tears could one person shed in such a short amount of time?
"Erik, I can't. It's too much."
"Antoinette Giry, look at me."
Madame Giry looked up at Erik, her heart effectively breaking at the tenderness she saw in his eyes. She sent up a silent prayer all over again for Christine to truly see and appreciate the man that she had chosen to spend her life with.
"Erik, your money should be used to build a new life for you and Christine. Monsieur Jules left an inheritance for Meg. It will be enough."
"As I recall, I once promised that little Meg would become an Empress. I fear my tongue may have run away with me, for I have no way of seeing her to that level. But with a generous dowry added to her loveliness, she will be able to catch a man of substance."
Madame Giry started to refuse again, but Erik stopped her.
"When I went to see Monsieur de Gaulle, he asked me for my mother's name to use as a surname. The name I gave him was yours. You are the closest I have ever had to a mother, Antoinette. And that makes my relations with Meg those of a brother. Monsieur Jules died a poor man. This is not charity I am offering. It is a gift, from someone who considers you his only family. I had hoped that the sentiment was mutual."
Madame Giry bit her lip. "It is, Erik. And I accept your gift, with much gratitude. I am sure that Meg will feel the same."
"You needn't tell her that the money is mine, unless you wish to. I leave that to your discretion."
"Thank you." Madame Giry smiled up at him.
"No thanks are necessary. Monsieur de Gaulle is setting up an account for me at a local bank. When it is in effect, I will draft you a cheque."
Madame Giry nodded, her eyes still disbelieving.
Erik took her hand and kissed it softly. "I am proud to bear your name, Antoinette Couturier."
She blushed slightly at his use of her maiden name. A dark thought flitted through her mind, and she did not voice it until he had left the room.
Then, she sank into a chair, and closed her eyes, fears and doubts assailing her, and making themselves known in that thought that she now spoke to the empty room.
"I only pray that Christine will feel the same."
"You are a fool, Raoul! A blot on the de Chagny name! As if it isn't bad enough that you were engaged to a chorus girl," Philippe de Chagny spit out the words distastefully "a dancing girl, you insist on continuing to pursue her? I for one am thanking God in Heaven that she abandoned you for the creature under the Opera Populaire! A chorus girl, Raoul! What on earth would you have told Mother? What would she have told her friends? That her little boy was going to gift an orphaned actress with the title of Viscomtess? She was wise to keep the engagement secret—I would have broken your neck myself had I heard of it before now!"
"Erik nearly did." Raoul muttered.
"A pity he didn't finish the job." Philippe turned to face his little brother. "When are you going to grow up, Raoul? Even when she was the daughter of Charles Daae, she wasn't suitable. But then she fell to being a chorus girl. It doesn't matter that she's to be a diva now, you might as well be chasing a prostitute!"
He was rewarded for his words with a strong slap across the face.
"Don't ever insult Christine like that again." Raoul's face was red with anger, his hand stinging from the mark he had delivered to his brother's cheek. "Don't ever speak of her in that manner again, or by God, it will be the last thing you ever say."
Philippe laughed, but it was an uneasy laugh. "Does she mean that much to you, little brother?"
"I love her." Raoul declared, lifting his chin defiantly. "You are the Comte, brother, it is your child that will inherit the de Chagny name and property. Whom I marry is of little consequence to the family, whatever you would have me believe. If I cannot have Christine, I will have no one."
Philippe smirked. "I fear you will spend many nights alone then, Raoul. I was in the theater last night. I saw your precious little prima donna then. She's quite taken with this Erik, it seems. I would wish you luck…but it looked to me as though you'll need a great deal more than luck."
Raoul spun angrily on his heel and headed for the door. The last thing he wanted was a reminder of the sensuality that had hung so heavy between Erik and Christine on the stage the night before. When his hand was on the knob, he heard Philippe call out one final stab.
"I always knew your tastes ran a little wild, Raoul. But do you really want to marry a woman who has bedded a monster?"
Raoul turned back from the door, his face murderous. "She has not!" he yelled, drawing out the words as he screamed them at his older brother. He drew his rapier from its sheath and took a menacing stride towards Philippe. "Damn you, Philippe, I told you never to speak of her like that again!" He made as if to strike at his brother with the sword, but Philippe unsheathed his own weapon and struck Raoul's from his hand.
"Careful, little brother." He calmly replaced the sword. "I've been indulgent with you thus far, since you obviously have become a fool for love's sake. I've been there myself, Raoul. But you must distinguish the difference between harmless love and foolish obsession. Don't forget, Raoul, I am the Comte, as you were so quick to remind me earlier. Since Father's death, I am the head of this household, and I will not hesitate to put you in your place if need be." He placed a heavy hand on Raoul's shoulder. "This affection you feel for Mademoiselle Daae is well and good, if relegated to the proper place. She is perfectly suitable for a mistress, Raoul. Should you consign her to such a place in your affections, I would smile and toast you and say bravo, brother! But she is entirely unsuitable as a wife or future Viscomtess, and this is what you must learn. Find a proper wife, little brother, and then turn your attentions to winning back the affections of Miss Daae. Or vice versa. But let me hear no more talk of engagements."
Raoul nodded, his blood still boiling, but his head level. Philippe was not one to grow angry or violent, but he could tell merely by looking at his brother that to push this issue further tonight was not in his best interests.
"Excellent." Philippe turned away from Raoul and poured himself a glass of wine. "A drink, little brother?"
"No, thank you, Philippe. I must be on my way."
Raoul left the room abruptly, mounted his horse, and rode into the busy nighttime streets of Paris. He needed something stronger than wine tonight.
Raoul de Chagny was a good man, but he was certainly no paragon of virtue. He had no qualms whatsoever about enjoying a good round of drinks in a tavern, taking his chances at the gaming table, and then using the money to buy the services of a woman in one of Paris's more reputable brothels.
He loved Christine dearly, and he had every intention of winning her back. But that certainly didn't stop him from riding to the nearest tavern and ordering a brandy.
Nor did it stop him from consuming several more, and then proceeding to win a hundred francs in a game of cards.
Nor did it stop him from leaving the tavern and crossing the street to his brothel of choice, where he followed a lovely, if heavily made-up, brunette to her room and drowned the remainder of his sorrows in the pleasures she offered.
And while he took what he had paid generously for, he imagined in his liquor-sodden mind that the woman beneath him was Christine.