Disclaimer: Of course I own nothing except my own imaginary musings about one tortured, masked musical genius...
Chapter 13: Desperate Measures...
Christine
The beautiful afternoon was coming to a slow, languorous end as my hopes began to plummet once more. I wondered, sadly, whether my little ploy had worked. It now occurred to me that Erik might have entirely missed my slipper, lying there in the road. After all, it was only a small, inconsequential slipper...
I had no way of knowing whether he had decided to wait for the morning coach, instead of setting off in pursuit immediately. However, my heart told me that his great love for me would have made it impossible for him to wait until then. He must have, I reasoned, found a speedy means to enable him to come after me. My hopes soared once more.
My thoughts were suddenly and most ungraciously interrupted by the snickering voice of the ridiculous Dupres.
"Well, my sweet, we have arrived! Look out of your window, if you please. All that you see is the property of the Dupres family. I trust you will be suitably impressed. Your future spouse, my dear, will certainly keep you in style!"
I did not move to do as he asked. His remarks onlly served to increase my disgust for the man. Did he think to buy my love with his riches? Indeed, I was not entirely sure that he really meant to make me his bride. I was wary of his true motives. Everything pointed to his intending to set me up as his mistress. There probably was no mother at his chateau, I thought scornfully. I turned my head away, my stomach churning with fearful apprehension.
"Come, come, Mademoiselle!" the insufferable buffoon continued. "Surely you would be most anxious to survey all that you will have as your own when we marry! Most women would envy your position, do you not agree?"
I glanced up at his stupidly smug face.
"No, I do not agree, Monsieur," I said quietly, vehemently. "Only an unscrupulous woman would envy me now! You seem to hold a very low opinion of our gender. Dare I hope that your unwanted attentions have been spurned before?" I laughed mockingly as I said this.
He smiled, and leaned back expansively in his seat. "My dear, sweet thing," he drawled, "it is quite impossible for you to irritate me, you know. I am endlessly delighted by you. So you may cease to attempt to bait me."
I glared at him, but his smile did not waver.
"Indeed," he continued, "I do not believe you could ever truly infuriate me. And if you did, you may rest assured that I would immediately leave your presence until I had calmed down sufficiently. So you see, you cannot cast me in the rather melodramatic role of abusive kidnapper."
"Very well, then," I rejoined, "if such is the case, then why do you not do the decent thing, and take me to Paris, as I requested?"
"Tsk, my dear!" His smile broadened. "Have I not already made it plain to you that I fully intend to woo you properly? I am going to make you fall madly, hopelessly, in love with me!"
"But why? Why do you want me, when there are any number of women out there who would gladly fall at your feet?"
"Because, my sweet, dear little Christine Daae, I have been wanting you for a very long time. Yes, a very long time indeed..."
To say that my heart stopped, and I was frozen in shock, would be an incredible understatement. I looked at him, and he laughed at my dismayed expression.
"How long have you known who I really am?" I managed to ask him, my throat tight.
"Well, not right away, of course. You were nearly unrecognizable in those clothes. It was when you first spoke to me. Your voice is unmistakable...I have seen you once or twice, on the stage of the Populaire. Your singing is nothing short of divine! Sad, isn't it, how the building has been damaged?"
"Yes, it is..." I whispered, feeling a stab of guilt. It was my betrothed, after all, who had unwittingly set the Opera House on fire.
At this point, the coachman rapped on the top of the coach. I felt our conveyance slow down, and then stop.
"Ah, here we are at last!" He laughed heartily, and bounded out of his seat, throwing open the coach door, and holding out his hand to me.
"Do not be coy, Miss Daae! Kindly take my hand. I do not wish you to take a spill."
Sighing, I reluctantly permitted him to assist me down from the coach. As I straightened, looking up, I noticed someone standing behind him, in the threshold of the massive chateau doors.
She was a formidable-looking woman, rather tall, with a haughty bearing, silver-hued strands pulled into a severe chignon. Her lavish, lilac-colored gown was in the height of fashion. This immediately made me feel self-conscious, dressed as I was in what to her must have seemed exceedingly strange attire. Her eyes gazed sternly upon my person, and her arms were crossed in front of her. She said nothing, apparently seeking to intimidate me with her glowering face.
Dupres followed the direction of my stare, and laughed uneasily when his eyes met the woman's.
"Madame, I trust that you have been well in my absence."
She shifted her eyes to look at him, but said nothing. Then she brought her eyes back to me, and continued to glare at me. Needless to say, this made me extremely uncomfortable, but I would not look down or away. I refused to be intimidated.
Dupres took a deep breath, and went on. "Maman, this is..." He was not allowed to proceed, however.
"I know very well who she is, Gerard. I would like to know why you would dare to bring such a person to my house! If you wish to initiate a liaison with her, why do you not set her up discreetly at your own chateau?"
I felt as if she had slapped me. Here was concrete proof that the members of the aristocracy were arrogant, unfeeling... She had already categorized me as a woman of questionable morals.
"Maman!" He chided her, as he attempted to put one arm around my waist. I pushed him away, and he did not pursue the matter.
"Maman," he said, in a pleading, conciliatory tone, "this woman is to be my bride! I will ask you not to speak of her in such a manner!"
"You will ask me nothing, Gerard! I will not receive her under my roof! How dare you insult your father's memory by bringing such a woman here so openly?"
"My father, you say?" He laughed harshly. "Are you not aware that my dearly departed father sired a number of half-brothers of mine upon his several mistresses?"
"Gerard! How dare you! You will leave at once, do you hear me? And you will take your...your doxy with you!" She whirled around as she said this, entering the foyer in a huff. A servant immediately shut the huge doors behind her.
Dupres sighed, and turned to me. "I was afraid of this. Far be it from me to change the ways of the aristocracy in one day...Come, let us leave. This is her home, after all. I cannot very well force my entry, even though I am her son..."
I was instantly alarmed. "Where...where shall we go, then?"
He smiled rather unsteadily, and dared to caress my cheek with one hand. I flinched away at once.
"Why, to my chateau, of course, my little dove! Do you see any other option?"
"Yes, I do!" I screamed, furious. "You can take me to Paris, as I thought you were! That is, if you were truly a gentleman"
He smiled slowly. "Why do you insist on that, my sweet little diva? I wish to keep you all to myself, after all."
"Oh, you are insufferable!" I screamed, beyond myself. And then...I gathered all my courage, and dared to do something I never thought I would do. No respectable lady would do what I did then. It was completely beneath me, but I had heard from servants at the Populaire that it was extremely effective.
I kicked him as hard as I could, in the groin.
To my perverse satisfaction, he immediately doubled over in pain. I did feel a pang of guilt, however. He had so far done nothing to harm me. However, I was desperate.
As he groveled on the ground, I swiftly turned, and, hitching up the Persian attire with one hand, grasped the handlebar on the side of the coach, and sprang up. Where I got the courage to do such a thing, I will never know. I scrambled up onto the coachman's seat, which, thankfully, was empty at the moment. I had not known that, naturally. I simply did everything instinctively, desperately. The coachman was standing by the horses' heads, and was greatly startled by my actions. Before he could recuperate from his surprise, I swiftly grabbed the reins, and screamed at the horses. Their heads went up, jerking away from the coachman, and they immediately sprang into a trot. I spurred them on, directing them toward the gates of the property.
Behind me, Dupres howled in outraged pain. "Stop her, you fool!" He screamed at the coachman.
The horses were now at full gallop. We would soon be approaching the gates. Then I realized that these would have been closed after we had gone through. How could I have been so stupid?
My heart thundered in my chest as the horses sped toward the gates. As we neared them, I saw that they were indeed shut. What if I could not control the horses, and we ran headlongl into the gates?
Desperate circumstances called for desperate measures. I was, at the very least, pleased not to be wearing a corset, as that would have hampered my movements.
Just before we reached the gates, I pulled on the reins, as hard as I could, forcing the horses to swerve to the right. And then, incredibly enough even to myself, I jumped from the coach, grasping for the iron bars. Both hands closed around one of the bars, and I clung to it, panting, my breath nearly knocked out of me. I felt a pain in my left thigh, and knew that I had probably seriously bruised it. Then I hauled myself up. It was my intention to climb over, to the other side...
My resolve suddenly faltered, as I turned my head to look down. How would I be able to get to the ground? It was a long drop, after all. I wondered if I would be able to climb down, or if I should simply let myself drop. Sudden fear paralyzed me, and I could not move. I clung to the bars fiercely, knowing it would not be long before I tired of that. I would fall a good six feet or more...