Chapter Four – The Fate of le Vicomtesse

Paris 1874

Christine

Meg is sitting idly by the window when I walk into the room. It has been nearly two months since Raoul's death and the Giry's have finally returned from their long holiday in Spain. "Meg?"

"Christine!" she exclaims, jumping up from her seat in excitement. Meg runs over to me and hugs me fiercely, crushing some air out of my lungs. "Oh, Christine, I nearly dropped in a dead faint when I heard about Raoul! How are you faring?"

"I'm taking it one day at a time, I suppose," I reply, kissing Meg's cheek. "Meg?" I ask, knowing that no time will be a good time.

"Yes, Christine?"

"Do you know the Marquis of Luxembourg?" Meg's pale blue eyes go wide.

"You mean that handsome devil whose mother called on us in Spain?" I nod, worried that Lady Samantha will have told Madame and Meg all about our marriage plans. "I know him, of course! Why do you ask?" I swallow hard and tuck a loose bit of curly hair behind my ear.

"Well, see, um…" I stumble across my words, wondering how to say this to her, my best friend.

"Spit it out!" Meg reprimands me, a little smile on her face.

"Before Raoul died, I was with the Baron and Baroness von Oldenburg as well as the Marquis and his mother and we were discussing his marriage."

"And?" Meg looks at me inquisitively. "Go on."

"Lady Samantha, that's his mother, said that she'd spoken with your mother about possibly marrying him off to you, but then the Baroness said that you weren't good enough because you had no noble title." I feel terrible lying to Meg like I am, but some things just must be done. Meg motions to me, encouraging me on. "So then the Baron said that maybe, since I'm young and Raoul was deathly ill, I should marry him, and now it's set in stone! I'm marrying him in just over a month."

Meg sits there before me in complete and utter shock. "That's wicked, that is! The nerve of them to do that to you, mere months after your husband's death! Mama's going to have something to say about this, you can be sure. Maybe Gaston can step in and act the father." Madame Giry remarried within a year after the events at the Opera Populaire to a man named Gaston van Ellsworth, and he has grown very close to Meg and me in the last few years.

"It'd do us no good now getting your mother and Gaston involved," I reply sadly. "I suppose I'd have ended up in a situation like this anyway if I didn't have Raoul, may God protect his soul."

"So you don't love him then?" Meg asks me, her face scrunched up in confusion. I shake my head. "God, I hate Adrianne von Oldenburg! First she nearly destroyed my mother's wedding," she says, and I remember well the Baroness's angry display of disapproval with the food at Madame Giry's wedding reception, "and now she's insulted our family as well, not to mention gotten you into a most unneeded predicament involving the Marquis." Meg sighs. "You can't just ask Lydia to request that you remain with her family as an aunt nurse to Amanda? I mean, it's logical. The little girl loves you so!"

"They've already sent out invitations to the wedding anyway. Do you think that Gaston would give me away?" I suppose that there's no point in fighting it any longer.

"I suppose, but there's got to be a way around this! You shouldn't have to marry the Marquis if you don't want to."

Struck with a sudden but wicked idea, I question Meg, "Would you want to marry him? If you were me, of course?" Meg looks at me skeptically for a minute, and then responds.

"I guess I would. I mean, he's a Marquis and he's amazingly good-looking. Not as good as Raoul or Samuel, of course, but most definitely a sight for sore eyes. And he's only ever been kind, from what I know. You may have reasons for not liking him, but I have no reserves as such." Eyeing my devilish grin, Meg asks, "Christine, what're you thinking? You have that look in your eye…"

"You may well get to marry your Marquis, Marguerite Giry." I smirk at her.

"Okay, I know something's wrong when you start calling me Marguerite. That's what my mother calls me!" Meg pauses and then seems to come around to what I'm hinting at. "Oh, Christine. You wouldn't dare!"

"I wouldn't," I start, "but you would." Out of the bag I brought with me, I take a pile of papers Lady Samantha gave me regarding family history, relatives, and places I'd need to know as the new Marchioness of Luxembourg.

"I couldn't possibly! Christine, you wicked thing! You expect me to…" I stand up and start playing with her loose locks of blonde hair. "What're you doing?"

As I pile it atop her head and hold it in place, I say, "You know, you could pass for me with your hair covered."

"Pass for you? Christine, this isn't some stupid dance rehearsal where we listen to La Carlotta for hours! This is marriage, Christine, a noble marriage! Lady Samantha would see through it in a minute! And you know that the Baroness von Oldenburg would!"

"But if Gaston and your mother give me away, what's to stop them from switching brides at the last minute?" Meg looks unconvinced. "And besides, I'm sure that the Marquis would prefer you anyway. You're not already widowed and he doesn't have to worry about you comparing him to a handsome vicomte."

"True enough," Meg replies, "but I'm not doing it!"

I know it's time to drop the card that all Giry women hate. "What, you'd rather end up a spinster like your mother was? She was damn lucky she found a man who'd even look at her!"

"Enough!" she shouts back. "I'll do it. Are you happy now?" My smile spreads across my face. It never ceases to amaze me how the same words can have such an effect on a family no matter how many times they're used.

Erik

"Erik? Erik, I'd like to speak with you, if you don't mind." Antoinette's voice comes from the dock by the shore of my lair.

"Yes, Antoinette? What news have we today from the sane world?" I reply sardonically.

"Get over yourself," the former dance instructor replies sharply, reprimanding me like a child, which I am not. "It's about Christine." My eyes widen, but I bow my head so she can't see. "Don't hide it, Erik. I know you're interested."

"All right, then, tell me," I answer dryly, throwing a dressing gown over my shoulders and walking out to greet Antoinette, who looks away a little. "It's okay, I'm decent. And I do believe I see the infamous Madame Giry blushing," I say sarcastically, poking fun at her.

"Let's stop arguing, shall we?" I nod. "This arrived this morning," she says, handing an official-looking paper, gold seal broken, to me. "It's an invitation to the wedding of the Marquis of Luxembourg."

"What's this got to do with…" but then I see it. In the center of the paper, where the bride's name would go, is written in flowing script, The Lady Christine Emmanuelle Daaè. "No. No!"

"You're not still set on her, are you?" Antoinette asks inquisitively. "Because she's spoken with me about it on many occasions whenever I try to bring you up. She won't talk about you."

"I'm not set on her, Antoinette!" I lie. "She's a naïve little girl who is looking for someone who can protect her from the world. That's why she married de Chagny in the first place."

"That is not true, Erik, and you know it!" Antoinette snaps back.

"Antoinette, I do not need you telling me what I know and don't! I'm a grown man, damn it!" I scream back, angrier than ever with her.

"And Christine is an adult too! Sometimes I think that you still consider her the defenseless little girl you tutored in the chapel." That strikes a nerve within me, and Antoinette clearly knows it.

"How?" I stutter. "How did they get this accomplished? Her husband died mere months ago?" Antoinette shakes her head.

"Lady Samantha Luxembourg is a true demon when it comes to these things. Apparently her son, the Marquis, was supposed to be wed to Marguerite but she was talked out of it by the Baroness von Oldenburg." I chuckle.

"I always knew the Baron made a mistake marrying her. You told me about, do you remember?" Antoinette nods. "One of the worst weddings you ever attended, if I am not mistaken?"

"Certainly," she responds, a little more upbeat than before. "But more pressing matters come before this conversation, Erik. I spoke with Christine as soon as I received this," she says, motioning at the invitation. "She's informed me that under no circumstances does she want to marry this Marquis, so stop holding it against her. It's noble marriage, Erik. These things happen."

Feeling a little cynical, I respond, "Maybe I'll come up to the real world for a little while and be normal. You know, marry someone by force, win friends by money, that whole bit."

"Erik, please stop it. I don't have much time and you are truly starting to get on my very last nerve. With Christine getting married I'm not going to have much more of a head to visit you when you're like this." I shrug it off.

"You never had much of a head for me anyway," I respond a little too coolly. "I need time alone. Get out before I bring out that Punjab lasso." Antoinette sighs angrily.

"Erik, I am ashamed of you! After all of these years you threaten me, of all people, with that lasso?" I watch as she walks briskly over to my desk and draws out my unused Punjab lasso. "I'll be taking this." I lunge for it like a small child would, but Antoinette is much quicker. "I'm not taking any chances when you're like this. You've been clean for four years and you are not screwing it up now. Have a good day." She curtsies lightly and departs, taking with her my gondola.

"You'll be returning that!"

"I've not returned it to you for years, Erik. What makes you think I'll change now?" I sigh as I watch her sail out across the lake into the darkness of the catacombs.

"You could just use the other entrance!" Antoinette doesn't listen to my comment, and I withdraw into my chambers in silence. Maybe I shall write another letter to Christine to ease my mind…