A/N:

Never fear, I have not abandoned this story! But writer's block is kicking in rather frequently. If/when you review, suggestions as to how you would like this story to go would be greatly appreciated.

Here is Ch. 3. Read, enjoy, and please review!

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Chapter 3: A Noble Marriage

Madame Giry laid down the last suitor's letter with a sigh. There were noblemen aplenty who sought after her Meg, rich and handsome men vying for her favors. But none offered marriage, none offered security.

Antoinette did not want to see her daughter end up like Sorelli. Such a promising dancer that girl had been! She had squandered her talent for money, favors, and bedplay with a handsome noble. Madame Giry had not heard from the former prima, and she thought that perhaps no news was good news. She was fairly certain that she did not want to know the true fate of the ballerina and her little daughter.

There came a tentative knock at the door.

"Come in." Antoinette replied tiredly, pushing the stack of letters to the side. Her daughter deserved the world! Why could she not give it to her?

Raoul stepped into the room. "I'm sorry to bother you, Madame. It's just that the nights grow lonely, and I thought perhaps a chat might do you good as well."

"I've not spoken to you in some time, Viscomte de Chagny. What is it?"

"Please, call me Raoul." He glanced at the stack of letters. "Suitors for little Meg?"

"She is not so little anymore." Madame handed him the topmost letter. "Read that, Raoul."

Marguerite,

You were enchanting upon the stage tonight. Your beauty is unsurpassed by any other dancer, and I would be grateful if you would allow me the courtesy of escorting you to a dinner one night…

You glowed like an angel—and I couldn't help but imagine how your skin might shimmer in candlelight, rather than the glare of the spotlights.

Perhaps I can show you my home, as well. I'm certain you would be most impressed.

Yours faithfully,

Baron von Declan

Raoul winced.

"Oh, some of them are much worse. Others are not so bad, but none offer marriage. And I want nothing less for Meg."

Raoul nodded, remembering his brother's unyielding expression when reading Sorelli's letter. No, Meg should not be forced to endure such a fate.

"How long has it been?"

"She has been receiving offers since just before…before Christine's departure. Once she became the prima, they have only doubled."

Antoinette could not miss the change in Raoul's expression when Christine was mentioned. She rattled on, her voice increasing in pitch. She hated to see the Viscomte so pained. He should be over her by now.

No man ensnared by Christine ever got over her.

She hated to think of Christine so. But the child had caused nothing but pain, and then had left them all to handle their demons alone. She wrote Meg, but nary a letter had Madame Giry received.

She could hypothesize a thousand reasons why Christine had not contacted her, but Antoinette knew it was better left alone. The girl had her lover and her freedom. The destruction left behind was better forgotten.

"I want better for Meg than what I had. I loved Monsieur Jules, but our life was simple and poor. When I ceased dancing and bore children, we struggled on what little he made as a blacksmith. I loved Meg dearly, but I missed dancing, the lights and the parties and the whirlwind of activity. I had nothing to replace it. If Meg marries well, she will have something to replace what she will lose when she leaves the stage."

"That is not too much to ask, methinks." Raoul replied.

"But it seems that it is. Nearly every wealthy man has asked for her, but none wish to marry her. A ballerina, even a prima, is beneath them. Just as…"

Antoinette cut off sharply, but Raoul knew what she had been about to say.

Just as Christine was beneath you.

Without thinking twice, he made a decision.

"Then what would you say, Madame, if I told you that I had come tonight to offer my suit to Marguerite?"

Antoinette's mouth dropped open. It was, indeed, the first time the distinguished Madame Giry had ever found herself in such an undignified position.

-

"Did you see who was watching the rehearsal tonight?" Lisette asked coyly, stealing a sideways glance at Meg.

"I most certainly did not." Meg replied, though she knew of whom Lisette spoke. She had felt the Viscomte's eyes on her all afternoon, though she had tried to ignore it. No doubt he came to be reminded of Christine.

Why does he torture himself so?

"The Viscomte de Chagny!" Lisette squealed, practically bouncing in excitement as she pulled pins loose from her hair. "And he was watching you, Meg, all the time! Perhaps he will ask for you!"

Marjory sneered. "I wouldn't go with him if he were the emperor himself! Do you not remember what happened with that chorus girl? No doubt he comes to find a replacement for her. Everyone knows he is mad."

Meg leapt up. "He is not mad! He was in love with Christine, true, but that does not mean he is crazy!"

The girls began to laugh. Jammes smiled. "So, our Meg is in love at last! We wondered how long it would be before you joined the rest of us."

"She could have already, if it were not for her maman." remarked Blanche. "Meg has received more offers than any of us, but Madame insists upon marriage."

"Perhaps the Viscomte will offer marriage." Lisette suggested. "After all, he was engaged to Christine. Is a ballerina so much worse?"

"They became engaged after Christine was the diva." Marjory snipped. "And his brother, remember, was responsible for La Sorelli's situation. I would not have him."

The girls all quieted at the thought of Sorelli. "But none of us ever liked Philippe." Lisette offered. "The Viscomte was so kind to Christine."

"That does not mean he will be kind to another. Noblemen are fickle."

Meg opened her mouth to reply when the doorknob turned suddenly and Madame Giry entered.

The chatter ceased instantly.

A small smile was quirking at the edges of Madame Giry's mouth. "Meg, come with me, please."

-

Raoul was still in the office when Meg entered, followed by her mother. Her face paled upon seeing him, but her eyes brightened noticeably. He took this as a favorable sign, and at a nod from Madame Giry, began.

"With your permission, Marguerite, I would like to offer my suit for your hand in marriage. Your mother has already agreed, but I did not wish to do anything without your assent. Your happiness is of the utmost importance to me."

Meg did not, could not miss the formality with which he addressed her. It unnerved her a little, but no more than the countless other, much less decent, proposals had.

Her mind reeled. The Viscomte de Chagny wanted her! He wanted her for his wife, to be the new Viscomtess! She looked at her mother, and saw how Madame Giry beamed. This was what her mother wanted. And it was what she wanted—had secretly wanted since Raoul had first arrived at the opera house.

"Yes, Viscomte de Chagny." she replied, feeling numb. "I accept your proposal."