Author's Note: Apologies for taking so long to update, writer's block and life kicked in simultaneously. :)
Okay, some of you are either going to applaud me, or hate me for this chapter. I'm scared. Really scared.
And the Susan Kay reference from the last chappie was Madame Giry's line: "I feared for so long that the greatness in him would never see the light of day." an reference to the line in Susan Kay's novel (which I would love to actually read but can't find!) "There was so much beauty in your soul Erik. So much beauty that I fear now, because of...folly, will never see the light of day."
Not really a close fit, but that's what I was thinking of when I wrote that line, and wondered if anyone else would catch it.
So enjoy, readers, and please review! I need feedback for this chapter!
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Chapter 19: Deception
The young prostitute's reaction to Raoul's words was entirely different from what he had expected.
She set the cosmetics that she had been applying to her face back onto the table, and turned to face Raoul, her face expressionless.
"So that is it. I must admit, I had wondered why you had visited only me for so many nights, when there are so many lovely girls at this establishment. It seems I have my answer. So I remind you of someone, this girl, Christine. Who was she? Your lover? Or perhaps she was your mistress. I've heard that the practice of taking mistresses is considered so much more acceptable among the nobility. But perhaps your tastes aren't so refined?"
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean…" Raoul stopped short. Why was he making such a production out of this? The girl was just a whore, nothing else, and he was making a fool out of himself. He had been to brothels many times before, taken women like this girl and never given them a second thought. What on earth had gotten into him?
She reminds you of Christine. That's why you are going to such lengths to protect her feelings. She's not Christine, Raoul. Or are you actually starting to believe your brother?
Raoul paused for a moment, his mind suddenly clearing. Philippe's biting comment came back to him sharply.
"It doesn't matter that she's to be a diva now, you might as well be chasing a prostitute!"
"Take the makeup off." Raoul instructed.
She blinked at him.
"Just do as I say!"
For a reason that she didn't understand, the girl turned to do as he asked. When she turned back from the washstand, Raoul took in a sharp breath.
With the heavy cosmetics gone from her face, the young woman looked even more like Christine. Raoul smiled, a plan forming in his mind.
"What would you say if I told you that I could take you away from all this?"
She laughed. "Is that a proposal of marriage, monsieur?"
"I told you to call me Raoul. And no. Hardly. What I am proposing is something much different, but equally as satisfying."
She tried to act uninterested, but a flicker of hope showed through in her eyes. "What are you talking about, mons…Raoul?"
"You were right. You do remind me of someone—my fiancée, to be precise. Her name is Christine, and you look enough like her to be her twin. She abandoned me for another man…"
-
Giselle Auteur had spent all her life in hardship. She could not remember a time when she had not been surrounded by poverty and despair. In all her seventeen years, her existence had been as bleak as she thought a life could be. But no amount of squalid living or penniless hunger could be worse than the horror of prostitution.
Now she sat here, listening to the sad tale of a man who said that he could rescue her from this hell, and she feared to believe him. She felt her heart begin to soften as he related how he had become engaged to this girl called Christine, only to have her leave him for a man that she had once believed to be an angel.
Giselle stifled a laugh. What innocence! The girl must be a complete fool to have believed such a wild tale.
She had once been that innocent, Giselle remembered. Once—it seemed a lifetime ago.
"I want you to pretend to be Christine."
Giselle's eyes snapped up to meet Raoul's. "What?"
"I will pay Madame Lavage enough to convince her to let you leave with me. I will find you proper attire, and you will be, from the moment you step out of those doors, Christine Daae, a chorus girl turned diva."
"I cannot sing…"
"It doesn't matter. You will be staying at my house, and singing is not necessary there. We will not be engaged, my brother has already opposed my engagement to Christine rather strongly. You will be my mistress. Philippe is more than amenable to Christine's being my lover, so long as she does not become a Viscomtess." Raoul laughed. "The façade of propriety means a great deal to my brother."
Giselle considered for a moment. She felt that there was something else to this, something that was escaping her. Surely he would not be content to play this game forever. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but then she looked ahead to the bleak days that awaited her.
She didn't want to spend the rest of her life like this. She wanted something better. The games wouldn't last forever, but it would be better than nothing. She could have the closest thing to happiness that would ever be granted her for a time. Didn't she deserve that much, at least?
It was a small deception. It would hurt no one.
"I will go with you, Raoul." Her mind was made up. "I will be Christine."
-
Madame Giry debated for several moments whether or not to tell Meg of their good fortune. Her decision was made for her when the petite blonde girl came rushing headlong into the room.
Meg stopped short when she saw the tear-tracks on her mother's face.
"Maman, whatever can be the matter?" she asked, her hands resting on her mother's arm. "Has something terrible happened?"
Madame Giry shook her head. "The exact opposite, my dear. I received a gift for you tonight."
Meg's eyes widened. "A gift? What sort of gift, Maman?"
Madame Giry reached into the drawer and handed Meg the cheque.
The girl's eyes widened comically at the amount. "Whoever has this kind of money, Maman? And why me? Whatever can I use this much money for?"
Madame Giry smiled and extracted the paper from her daughter's trembling hand. "A dear friend of mine gave this to you, because he wished to. I can give no other explanation for it than that. And as for what the money will be used for, I can tell you that it will be added to your dowry."
Meg's eyes widened further. "But with that much…why…I could marry a titled man!"
The astonishment in her voice told Madame Giry that her daughter had already resigned herself to a poor marriage, and she wondered how she would ever be able to thank Erik enough. She turned away to lock the drawer. "I do not know how great of a title he may have, or how wealthy he might be, but by the grace of God, we no longer need settle for less than you are worthy of, Meg. We will be able to find you a husband in a leisurely manner."
She turned back to see Meg staring down at the floor and blushing.
"Maman…" Meg ventured, her cheeks stained red.
"Yes, dear?"
"You don't think that perhaps…perhaps…"
"Perhaps what, Meg?"
Meg stammered nervously. "Perhaps…well…that I might attract the attention of someone like…"
Madame Giry sighed, but not impatiently. "Like whom?"
"The…the Viscomte de…de Chagny?"
-
"You must be joking, monsieur!" The portly, aged woman with stained teeth and an entirely artificial face that was Madame Lavage threw her hands into the air and shook her head at Raoul. "Giselle makes more money for me in a night than most of my other girls do in a month! I will not let her go!"
Raoul coolly laid a gold piece on the table. He smiled inwardly at the glint that suddenly appeared in the woman's eyes. "There is more where that comes from, Madame. Now, I ask you again. What price would you command for Giselle Auteur?"
The woman hemmed and hawed, a decided cackle behind her next words. "She's very valuable, monsieur. I couldn't let her go for nothing, you see, and you seem a wealthy man…"
Raoul gritted his teeth, unexplainably angry at the woman's haggling, as though the brunette upstairs were no more than a prize lamb to be sold for the butchering.
He remembered the glimpse of innocence in her eyes when she had refused to tell him her name.
Giselle.
He had seen the corps de ballet practice steps from that ballet. He had watched one particular brunette, her long, curly hair bound up out of her way, her brown eyes sparkling with delight in her work, dance the tragic role of the girl who had died from her madness.
Christine.
The young girl for whom he was bargaining tonight was no more than a reminder of Christine, and a pawn in his plan to win her back.
Madame Lavage finally named her price, and he winced. Philippe would have his head if he learned of this.
He began to try and lower the price, but the woman was firm. It was on the tip of his tongue to curse her and leave. The liquor was going to his head, and it had begun to ache terribly.
His thoughts wandered to Giselle. If he left her here, he wondered, would she go mad? That glimpse of the young woman behind the practiced seductress forced its way into his thoughts, her wide brown eyes taunting him. How long could such innocence, such delicacy survive in a place like this?
She is just a pawn. Only a pawn.
Raoul had every intention of returning her to this place, or perhaps one marginally better, when his plans were fulfilled and Christine returned to him. Heaven only knew that the real Christine Daae had caused him trouble enough. He hardly needed two of her. This girl would help him to win the woman that he loved back.
He loved Christine, and Christine alone.
But as he counted out the gold, Giselle's wide brown eyes danced mockingly before him, and his only thought was that the lamb would be saved, at least for a time, from the slaughter of what remained of her innocence.