Raoul
One of the fortunate things, the Vicomte reflected, about not bothering with dimwitted lackeys, was the time it saved. Today was the day that Christine would give him his answer, and he had taken every measure to assure it was the one he desired. He had left yet another note in her dressing room, with specific instructions as to where and when she was to meet him.
Another note, one the Vicomte had taken great pleasure in writing, awaited the damned Opera Ghost. Raoul's cards were neatly stacked, before the sun set, he would play his ace. The Angel of Music would go to the hell that awaited him. Christine would be his Little Lotte again. Everything would be as it should.
He would alter his destiny, weave the threads as they were meant to be woven. He would have the life he desired, with the girl he desired. And to hell with anything in his way. He smiled, a gesture completely without mirth or pity.
Life will be what I want of it.
"Vicomte?" His valet broke the thread of his thoughts. "Vicomte, a letter for you from the university." He took it absently, dismissing the man with a negligent wave of the hand. Recognizing the seal, he smiled. Ah, yes. My harvest bears fruit.
A few weeks ago, in a bout of apparent altruism, the Vicomte had donated a vast portion of his land "to support the genius of the best university in Europe." Vicomte deChagny was very much aware that appearances were everything- and that people seldom looked beyond them. He had been acutely aware that it had been quite a long time since he had patronized the influential professors and board of the university. And so, in one sweeping move, he had managed to simultaneously get himself into the favor of influential government and 'old-money' men and to give the students and professors of the university numerous reasons for gratitude.
And grateful people were so much easier to manipulate.
But those plans were for later. He skimmed the note briefly, a page of exquisite linen paper with a graceful note of thanks for his generous donation to their university. All in a graciously grateful tone, one subtly inviting a request for a favor in return. Perfect. He glanced out at the graying sky, clouds heavy with snow. The shadows of the trees almost reached his imposing gates.
Almost time to go. Just a few more hours.. After all, someone should be there to greet Christine at the cemetery.
Meg
She heard voices up ahead, one low, one higher. One male, one... female.
Female? Her fear began to recede under a wave of nervous curiosity.
Laughter. Meg froze, than sprinted around the corner. That voice had been Christine's, what was she doing here? Christine's blooming joy the last few days was prominent in her mind. But the last time she had discussed the Phantom with Christine, her friend had been white with fright. What in heaven is going on?
She stopped as suddenly as she had started. Two figures whirled to face her, the taller one moving instantly to shield the other. Two incredulous faces stared at her. Christine was looking at her as though she had never seen her before. "Meg?" Her voice faltered.
The Phantom had recovered more quickly. His pose was arrogant, arms crossed, chin up, voice somewhere between threat and genuine curiosity. "How did you get in here?" He was dressed with simple elegance. An unfamiliar black half-mask had replaced the white.
Meg was, for once, utterly speechless.
Erik
Hell and damnation. He knew that Madame Giry's daughter- Meg, that's her name- had a boundless curiosity that had led her this way once before. But he sure as hell had not left the mirror open this time.
And if she got in... surely that miserable fop can too. For the first time in a long time, Erik felt threatened. And he did not appreciate it.
Christine echoed his thoughts. "If Meg got in here, Raoul can too..." Her voice shook.
His stomach clenched at the thought. The Phantom did not enjoy the sensation of vulnerability.
"Actually," Meg's small, clear voice broke through their reverie. "I don't think he will. Not unless the Vicomte has taken to wearing hairpins."
Erik stared at her, torn between wanting to laugh and strangle her for her insufferable curiosity.
Laughter won. "A hairpin?" He asked incredulously. "You broke into my passage with a hairpin!" Somehow, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation kept him from flying into an overdramatized rage at her.
The girl looked rather wary. He couldn't blame her. Laughter was probably the last thing she had expected from him. It's the last thing I expected from myself. He thought, shaking his head.
Christine looked rather relieved that the situation hadn't gone out of hand. "I think you'll need to do something about the mirror, Erik." A small smile tugged at her lips.
"I think that you're right, Christine." He said absently. Than he redirected his attention to the Giry girl. "Well, mademoiselle, I cannot believe that you broke into my home without a reason. Why were you seeking me?" His estimation of her went up in the face of her courage.
Or insanity. It's surprising how often the two coincide.
She recovered her aplomb, still looking a bit disconcerted. "You probably know that the Opera is in danger of being shut down. What with the rumors of the Vicomte going bankrupt."
"Rumors?" Erik asked, rather sharply, for the girl paled. He thought he knew everything that went on in his Opera House. Apparently not.
She colored. "They say that the Vicomte is having money troubles. My Louis agrees with the rumors. So you see... sir," Once he got over his initial shock at the girls' audacity, Erik was mildly amused when she struggled with the question of how to address him. "If the Vicomte is going bankrupt, than the Opera will be shut down"
"I see." Erik raised an eloquent eyebrow, still feeling vindictive enough to make the girl squirm a bit. "And what did you expect me to do about this?"
"Erik, be nice." Christine remonstrated, lightly touching his arm. He sighed. Meg was fortunate that he found her break-in a cause for amusement rather than one for violence.
She met his eyes frankly. "I don't know. If I knew what to do, I wouldn't have needed to ask you."
"Sensible of you." Erik quipped. Christine elbowed him. Erik sighed.
She just didn't appreciate his sense of humor.
Christine
It was remarkable how well Erik was taking this. Christine was almost limp with relief that he did not seem angry at her friend. Instead, he seemed intrigued. Apparently the idea that someone could get past his locks was far more important to him at the moment.
Men. She would never understand them.
"There is no cause for concern, Mademoiselle. Your mother has the situation well in hand- did you not speak to her?" Erik gave the girl his full attention, another unexpected- and rather pleasant- surprise. Meg shifted. "She has been rather worried of late and- what do you mean 'she has the situation in hand'?" Her voice grew indignant at the implication that she was being left out of some secret.
"Nothing to worry about, Mademoiselle Giry. All will be revealed- perhaps sooner than you think..."
Christine sighed. Erik, it seemed, had not lost his fondness for tormenting the chorus girls. She took pity on Meg, who looked both irritated and relieved. "The Vicomte may not be patron for much longer, Meg. Your mother has found someone else. They are arriving- I believe that they are arriving today." She smiled at the gape on her friends face. "I believe we'll meet them sometime this evening."
"I'll show you out." Erik's voice was lowered in what she suspected was amusement. "It is the least I can do for an intruder of such remarkable talent." He appeared in good humor, a slight smile curving the sensuous lips. "It will be a challenge to create a lock that can baffle you, Mademoiselle."
"It will certainly keep you busy." Christine shook her head at the blatant and blank shock on Meg's face.
"Oh, not too busy, I hope." Erik murmured wickedly, words meant only for her ears as he walked them up the passage to her dressing room. His warm breath against her ear made her shiver.
Here--- I Have A Note
Christine
She left a light kiss on Erik's cheek when he left them in her dressing room. Meg sighed. "I thought I'd never see the day- you keeping a secret from me! You! You could never keep a secret to save your life!" Meg shook her head incredulously.
"And you could never leave one alone if your life depended on it." Christine replied teasingly.
Meg pouted. "Now, where would be the fun in that?"
Christine laughed. "No fun at all, I suppose."
Meg's face was the picture of satisfaction. "Exactly." Meg swept out of the door, "Now, I've a meeting with a certain someone, so if you'll excuse me, I'll go and wait for him." She flipped her fingers in mockery of a wave and disappeared around the corner. The insolent smirk on her face left Christine no doubt as to who that certain someone was.
Poor Louis. Christine reflected. Poor fellow hasn't got a chance. She glanced over at her vanity and was surprised to see another note in as many days. And not just any note. With a sinking feeling, she recognized the handwriting. Today she would have to give her answer to the Vicomte. She supposed this was just his little way of reminding her.
Christine,
You are fully aware that I expect your answer today. Meet me at your father's mausoleum. Come alone. My people will have your darling friend Meg, within their grasp. So, I would suggest that you come as soon as you can, and tell no one. My patience is waning, Little Lotte. If I do not see you before sundown in the cemetery... Well, let's just say I'll be forced to take some nasty and rather unfortunate actions concerning your friend.
But why worry? I will see you in the cemetery. And Christine- there is no need to inform your masked friend that you are going. Indeed, I'm sure little Meg would rather you didn't. Broken legs are, after all, rather painful. Until then, Little Lotte,
Vicomte Raoul deChagny