Carlotta Choletti's madness had several advantages, Gerard reflected as he headed toward the small room that Ledoux had been given for his questioning of suspects in the chandelier disaster. For one thing, she wasn't singing the leads anymore. For another, Christine had been doing very well without Carlotta's poisonous interference.
It had made Gerard's blood boil, hearing Erik explain that Carlotta had given Christine a drink that made her unable to sing. He remembered the look of desperate, helpless apology on Christine's face when she couldn't even get out her first line. His heart had gone out to her even when he'd thought she was too nervous to sing, but knowing that Carlotta's jealousy was responsible for the whole thing filled him with a grim satisfaction whenever he thought of Erik's revenge. He couldn't even summon up much guilt for it, either--Christine so closely resembled Beladova that he'd had a soft spot for the girl from the moment he first laid eyes on her and heard her sing at the Bistro.
For another, Alain Choletti's time was much more taken up now with keeping his wife calm, and assuring her that there were no rats running around her—he was too busy to properly manage the opera, and apparently either did not mind or hadn't yet noticed that Gerard was still doing most of it…and not only still collecting his salary, but still paying Erik his. Thank heaven Gerard had always been good at bookkeeping, because heaven knew he couldn't manage the opera to save his life; Erik had always done most of it.
Ledoux pelted him with questions about the opera ghost, box five, the notes, and every suspicious thing that had happened in the opera for the last several months. Gerard gave him bland and vague answers, put him off at every turn, and left him looking sorrowful and shaking his head.
"Gerard, we've been friends for a long time. Please, you must tell me what you know."
"I have already told you why I did not have the same problems as Choletti. You already know there is a ghost here; I merely acceded to his requests and everything went well. Choletti has denied the ghost every single request, and look where it's gotten him. I have nothing else to tell," Gerard insisted. "I am sorry that I cannot be of more assistance, Ledoux. If I find out anything helpful, I promise you'll be the first to know."
That much, at least, was true; he just didn't think that betraying Erik to the police would be in the least bit helpful. If the Cholettis continued to leave Erik alone, then Erik would leave them alone as well. He had been keeping a fairly low profile ever since the chandelier incident; a lot of people thought he was gone for good. There hadn't been any notes, any pranks, anything… although, thinking about it, Gerard was forced to admit that it might be because Choletti was so concerned with his wife's newfound madness that he had tacitly allowed Gerard to take his old job back.
Ledoux sighed. "Very well, Gerard. Thank you for your time."
As he left Ledoux's office, Gerard was accosted by Philippe again. The young man had apparently had a chance to think, resulting in a change of attitude since their last conversation. Looking sorrowful, he said, "Gerard, I'm sorry for what I said earlier." He pressed a folded paper into Gerard's hand. "If you know where Christine is, please give her this. I swear to you I meant her no harm; those men were only supposed to bring her to my house, not…do anything to her. I just need to talk to her, that's all. Please, will you give her that?"
Gerard gave him a long, sharp look that had the young man fidgeting nervously.
"Please, Gerard."
Gerard hesitated, but finally tucked the note into his waistcoat pocket and nodded. "I'll make sure she gets it," he said. "But Philippe, if the lady isn't interested in your attentions, you have to promise me that you'll respect her choice."
Philippe glanced away. "She means everything to me, though, Gerard. We were children together, for God's sake. When I found her again at the fair, it was like I'd reclaimed a piece of my childhood. And now I'm supposed to just back off and pretend that none of that ever happened?" He glanced up, his blue eyes clearly showing his pain and bewilderment.
Gerard nodded. "If that is what she wishes. Yes. That's exactly what you're supposed to do—and what you must promise me you will do in such a case." He levelled a stern look at Philippe, who bowed his head as if ashamed, and nodded slowly.
"And one other thing." Gerard grabbed his arm as he turned to leave.
"What is it?"
"Don't ever, ever hire your dirty work done for you again! Honestly, how well did you know those two brutes you hired to kidnap her? Did you pay them in advance?"
Philippe nodded.
"Did you have any way to contact them, or did they say they'd be in touch with you?"
"They told me they'd be in touch. They said they wouldn't take her until after I'd paid in full, and then they'd bring her to my chateau and that would be the end of it."
Gerard shook his head in disbelief. "Foolish boy! They'd already taken your money and left you with no way to find them. What was to stop them from doing what they wanted with Christine as well?"
"I'm sorry," Philippe told him miserably. "I didn't think they'd…" he paused, swallowed, and continued with difficulty, "I just didn't think."
Gerard softened a little. The boy was so young! "Next time, do," he said, gentling his voice a little. He smiled. "If Christine sends a reply, I'll see that you get it.
"Thank you, Gerard. My old friend. Thank you." Philippe embraced the man briefly, and Gerard felt a slight pang of guilt.
Aw, what the hell. He was probably the closest thing to a father that Philippe had known for years. The boy'sfather had died and left him alone, titled and wealthy but with no guidance whatsoever, at a young age. He returned the brief hug, patted Philippe on the back, and gave him a smile. "All right, then. Off with you, now. I won't have you following me to try and find out where she is."
"Oh!" Philippe exclaimed with a mock innocence. "I would never dream of such a thing!" Laughing, he bowed and left Gerard alone.
Author's notes to reviewers:
Eariwen: Philippe had tried to 'go and talk with her' several times, but she had been avoiding him and not answering his notes. He finally decided to go for the direct approach... which he should have thought through a few more times first! Also, the language in the film this is based on tends to be rather modern. It was late Victorian, anyway; people were using contractions and some more modern speech patterns by then. It wasn't like a Jane Austen book by that late in the century. BTW, I liked your -cough- double meanings interpretation -cough- Sure hope that "cold" of yours gets better!
Ben: I do hope this chapter salvages Philippe for you at least a little. Mustn't judge his whole characterization on one chapter alone. -g-
Ripper de la Blackstaff: Oh, mon amie, j'espere que tu n'es pas folle a cause de mon histoire maintenant.
I promise the plotline won't ruin the fluff too badly.
