Chapter Twenty One: A Disastrous Dinner

Once outside the hotel, I was grateful for the mysterious wrap that Holmes had handed me. I made a mental note to ask Watson about its origin later.

Holmes hailed a cab and gave the cabbie the address. Within seconds we were rattling down the cobblestone streets of Paris.

"Le Comte de Chagny," Holmes said, "has a very unusual temperament."

"How so?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

"He can be quite cold and calculating. He carries himself with the air of an aristocrat and has a great amount of influence in the French government, which he isn't afraid to let people know. He is very fond of his younger brother who is more tiresome than he. However, this is an important dinner reservation and I hope I can trust you to be on your best behavior," that last statement was directed at me.

I smiled sweetly. "I will be the perfect lady. If you find him so exasperating, then why accept his invitation?"

"For that you can thank my Boswell," he said fixing a stare at Watson. "He felt it would be good to meet with le Comte and inform him of any and all progress we are making in our investigation."

"Are you going to tell him of the connection between le Fâtome and Christine's Angel of Music?"

"Of course not. I am going to be extremely ambiguous with details. I also pray none of you will tell him that we are going to be following his brother on the morrow."

"You can count on our discretion Holmes," I said answering for all of us.

The rest of the drive to Le Villard was spent in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. There was something Sherlock Holmes was not telling me, of that I could be certain. He had some reason for accepting the dinner invitation with le Comte de Chagny, because no one could make Sherlock Holmes do anything he didn't want to do.

When the cab finally came to a halt, Sherlock Holmes helped me down and put my arm in his, the typical fashion for a gentleman to escort a lady. When we were several steps in front of Watson and Becky, he dropped his voice so only I could hear.

"We must speak later this evening," he said so softly I had difficulty hearing him. "We are going to be heading into very deep waters. As of the moment, you are my wife. The French are very particular about single men and women. Once we arrive at the table of the de Chagnys I will introduce properly."

He looked as though he wanted to say more but stopped when the door man bowed to us. "Monsieur et Madame?"

"Bonjour," Holmes said holding my hand. "Monsieur et Madame Holmes. Our friends are quickly approaching," the detective said waving his hand toward Watson and Becky.

"Very good sir, enjoy your evening."

Holmes bowed to him and led me into one of the most glorious restaurants I've ever seen. Before I could take in all the details, a tall man dressed in a black tuxedo approached us.

"Bonjour et welcome to Le Villard. May I have your names please?"

"Holmes, Monsieur et Madame Holmes. Our friends are Monsieur et Madame Watson and they will be joining us shortly."

The man looked at sheet of paper and then looked up at us once again. "Monsieur Holmes, do you have a reservation?"

Holmes chuckled softly. "How very foolish of me. We are dining with Philippe le Comte de Chagny."

The man's eyes widened. "You are dining with le Comte?"

"Oui," Holmes replied, squeezing my hand, which told me to note the matréde's expression.

"Le Comte did not tell me he was expecting…"

"Monsieur Holmes?" A man of medium height with a high forehead and rust colored hair said as he approached us. He was roughly twenty one years of age with pale blue eyes and a handsome face which held a light rust colored moustache. He had the bearing of a military man and was dressed in a well-tailored naval suit, marking him as an officer of some type. "Ah Monsieur Holmes it is you. I daresay I did not recognize you without your frock coat. And whom may I ask is this young lady?"

"Mackenzie, may I introduce you to Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny."

Raoul smiled at me and took my hand in his and kissed it cordially. "The pleasure is all mine Madame."

"Mademoiselle," I corrected, attempting to hide a school girl blush. I usually blushed whenever someone paid me a compliment, especially a good-looking guy, but I felt no attraction to the young de Chagny whatsoever.

"I beg your pardon Mademoiselle…"

"Sterling, Mackenzie Sterling."

He kissed my hand again and flashed me another smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you Mademoiselle Sterling, very pleased indeed."

Holmes cleared his throat, obviously bored or disgusted or both by the show of welcoming the viscount was giving me. "Monsieur de Chagny, if you would show us to your brother's table I would be forever obliged."

"My apologies Monsieur Holmes," Raoul de Chagny said, standing at attention and clicking his heels in a military fashion. "My manners seem to have deserted me in the presence of such beauty."

I blushed again and my color change seemed to please Raoul de Chagny. "You Frenchmen certainly have a way with words," I said shyly. "Especially the handsome ones like you."

Raoul smiled again and then caught something in Holmes's expression that made his smile fade. He turned to the Matréde. "Jean Claude, I will need extra menus brought to the table. I believe there are four additional people dining with us?"

Sherlock Holmes nodded. "Oui."

"Come this way please," Raoul said flashing me one more smile before striding away.

Sherlock Holmes moved me out of the way and motioned for Becky and Watson to go ahead of us. When they were out of ear shot Holmes looked down at me his face set like stone.

"What the devil are you doing?" He asked angrily.

"Acting like a perfect lady," I replied.

"If that is how you act like a perfect lady then act less like one," he growled.

"You wish me to stop flirting with Raoul de Chagny?" I asked with mock innocence.

"Yes," Holmes said, "it is very unladylike." I looked into his eyes at that moment and if I didn't know any better I would have sworn I saw hurt in those expressive grey orbs. Before I could ponder this, Holmes very gently pulled me, signaling this conversation was at an end.

When we reached the table, a man of medium height with a strong build stood and nodded to us. He had a high forehead, which was made more prominent by his brown hair (streaked with grey), which was slickered back from his face. His cold blue eyes looked from Holmes to me and back again.

"Monsieur Holmes," he said extending a hand to the detective. "I would like to thank you for accepting my dinner invitation."

Holmes shook the hand and nodded. "Monsieur Comte, it is my pleasure. This," he said motioning to me, "is my associate Mackenzie."

"Mademoiselle," the elder de Chagny said with a slight, stiff bow. He certainly had the bearing of an aristocrat. "Please be seated," he said indicating the empty chairs across from his own seat.

Holmes, acting the part of a gentleman, pulled out my chair and helped me sit. He then took the napkin from the table and draped it across my lap. He bowed his head and took his own seat.

Becky kicked me under the table and grinned wickedly at Holmes's chivalry. I chose to ignore her grin and focused my attention on Raoul who was smiling sweetly at me from across the table.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, I see that you serve in the French navy and are on leave for several weeks. How are you enjoying Paris?"

The viscount paled slightly at my deductions and then chuckled. "I thought Monsieur Holmes was the only one who could look at a person and tell their life history. I daresay I was quite incorrect in my assumptions."

"No," I said with a smile, "Holmes taught me everything I know about observation and deduction."

"Monsieur Holmes, you must be an excellent tutor," the elder de Chagny said.

"Oh he is," I piped in. "He is very good and usually very patient."

Holmes's face flushed at the compliment. Watson had stated elsewhere that Holmes was as vain as a girl when it came to his unique talents. Tonight was certainly no exception.

"Well, she exaggerates of course," Holmes said. "I am no better than my pupil and she is very bright, although a trifle stubborn."

Our verbal sparring was stopped when the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine. He poured a small amount into le Comte's glass. Philippe de Chagny tasted the wine and then spat in into the glass. "Terrible!" He shouted. "Appalling! Take that back and bring something fresh! Now!"

The now red-faced waiter grabbed the bottle and hurried away. It was at that moment I realized I didn't like the older de Changy. He was rude and obnoxious.

I opened my mouth to tell him that he should not treat the waiter like that, when Holmes squeezed my hand under the table warning me to keep my mouth shut on the subject.

"Monsieur de Chagny, what do you recommend for a meal? Everything looks so good." I said, swallowing my rude comment.

"Normally I'd recommend the lamb but if it tastes anything like that last bottle of wine I hesitate to recommend anything."

Arrogant bastard. I smiled at him tightly and continued to peruse the menu. Although I despised lamb, I figured it would be tactful to order it. "I'll take you recommendation Monsieur," I said with another tight smile.

The waiter returned with another bottle of wine and both he and the manager waited nervously as the count cautiously tried it.

"This will do," the count replied.

The waiter looked relieved and poured a decent helping of wine into our glasses and then he took our order.

I will refrain from giving all the details of that atrocious meal, filled with boring idle conversation mostly about Monsieur le Comte de Chagny. If it weren't for the wine I don't think I would have ever gotten through it.

As dinner was nearing an end, the topic of Holmes's investigation came up.

"Monsieur Holmes," Raoul de Chagny said as he swallowed a rather large piece of beef. "Have you heard anything about Christine?"

Before Holmes could answer, my promise to Christine entered my mind. "I have spoken with her Monsieur," I said quietly.

"You have? What did she say Mademoiselle?" The excitement in his voice was strained by years of strict social behavior. "Did she say anything about me?"

I smiled indulgently at Raoul and paraphrased what Christine had said. "She said that she does care for you, that she misses you and that she really enjoys your company--"

"Did she say anything else? Did she tell you the reason that she no longer wants anything to do with me?" His energy was such that his elder brother had to put an arm on his shoulder to restrain him from jumping out of his seat.

I nodded. "Yes, she did give me a reason and she said that you should understand. She said that she doesn't want to upset her angel and she is afraid that her angel will leave and never return if she disobeys him. She said that her angel does not want her to see you and she must follow those instructions."

The older de Chagny snorted in contempt. "Of all the ridiculous reasons! Undoubtedly this angel is her lover. Raoul, Christine Daaé is nothing but a chorus whore and I forbid you to see her again."

"Monsieur de Chagny!" Watson said nearly springing from his chair with indignation. "How dare you speak of the lady in that manner! You should be ashamed of yourself sir!"

"Watson," Holmes said, his tone was that of a warning.

The Count merely laughed at Watson's chivalry. "You Englishmen are all the same, defending anything with different sexual organs than yourselves. Look at you, defending the very chorus whore who tried to manipulate my brother. The only Englishman who had a decent head on his shoulders was that fellow in Whitechaple a few years ago who slaughtered whores and what does that brilliant police force do when a sensible man comes along? They attempt to arrest him," swallowing the remainder of the wine in his glass, le Comte de Chagny snorted with contempt. "But then again, what should I expect from such a barbaric country. I say Doctor Watson; I do not believe your wife would appreciate you defending a whore, now would she?"

Watson's face turned red with indignation and Holmes put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Philippe! I will not have you insult Christine in such a manner!" Raoul barked hotly.

"Raoul, your whining makes me weary. You are just as bad as the English, defending whores." The Count said with a wave of his hand. Suddenly his cold blue eyes rested on me. "You haven't said very much in the way of the defense. Is it possible that you are the same type girl as Christine Daaé?"

At that remark Holmes leapt to his feet. "Monsieur le Comte de Chagny! Your actions are unworthy of you! I can sit here as you insult my country and my heritage. I have held my tongue as you insulted my dearest friend, but I cannot and will not stand for you insulting the one decent woman I know! You have some nerve, le Comte to even speak to her like that! If she was some guttersnipe I could understand you jumping to those conclusions, but her heart as well as her outer appearance are pure and beautiful! Enough is enough Sir!"

Everyone grew silent at Holmes's outburst including the garrulous and arrogant Count. All eyes were fixed on the detective and it was then that he realized what he had said. His face turned a livid shade of crimson and he swallowed several times before he could seat himself. He motioned for the waiter to pour him another glass of wine which he gulped down as though it was a life-saving serum.

It was several minutes before Watson or I could speak and when the doctor finally got over the shock, his voice shook with surprise.

"Holmes? Are you all…?"

"Quiet Watson!" The detective hissed. He drank down another glass of wine and got shakily to his feet. "Monsieur de Chagny," he said turning to Raoul, "I wish you best of luck in your relationship with Christine Daaé."

"Monsieur Holmes, please!" Raoul said hurrying to the detective. "Monsieur I need your help!"

"There is nothing more that can be done here, good night," with that Holmes turned on his heel and left the table.

I looked at Watson and he at me, both of us unsure what we had just witnessed. I asked him with my eyes if I should follow Holmes and he answered silently. With a nod to the de Chagnys, I got up and hurried after the world's first consulting detective, leaving Becky and Watson to attempt to make the best out of a bad situation.

I swerved through tables as fast as I could, ignoring both the pain in my ankle and the indignant stares from the other patrons. I rushed outside as I saw Holmes cross the street.

"Holmes! Holmes wait up!" I shouted to him. If he heard me he gave no indication and continued to walk at a quick clip down the block.