Child of Freedom

Chapter 6- Discoveries

A/N: This chapter was especially thought through on behalf of TheBlackDove. I know how much you disliked the color of the dress in the last chapter, so I decided to make amendments for that in this chapter. Enjoy!

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I was frantic. I wanted to buy a nice dress for my date, but I couldn't one in any shop for the amount of money that I had, which was very little. It was early morning, and I had been up and about since about six in the morning. I returned home at about ten in the morning and went into my room to raid my closet.

As soon as I entered my room, I spotted something on my bed. I went over to the bed, and picked up the object. It was a dress and it was beautiful.

It was pale yellow, and had white lace that trimmed the cuffs and neckline. The bodice had just the right amount of lace so the dress would appear a somewhat fancy. The skirt went down to my feet, and would hug the hips for about an inch before flaring away from my legs.

I held the dress up to myself and looked in the floor-length mirror that was attached to my closet door. The dress looked like it would fit perfectly. I quickly got undressed and tried it on. It fit like a glove.

I turned to look at the bed to see if there was a note that had come with the dress. I spotted something. It was a pair of white gloves and a straw hat that sported a white ribbon and yellow rose.

The whole ensemble was incredible. It fit perfectly with my coloring, and yellow roses were my favorite. I assumed that it was Pierre who had put them in my room. I figured that he was trying to show how, even though he didn't agree with my decision, he supported me. There was only one thing missing. I didn't have any shoes to go with the dress.

I tried searching my closet, but couldn't find anything. Then I looked under the bed. I spotted some, and I pulled them out. They were like glass. I was positive that they weren't actually made of glass because then I wouldn't be able to walk in them, but they were beautiful.

They appeared to be made of glass-as I said earlier-but they weren't. I could tell that expert craftsmanship had gone into the making of the slippers. As I peered closer at them, I saw that there were gold filaments threaded through each slipper. This made the slippers sparkle, as though they had been sprinkled with fairy dust.

For a moment, I felt myself in a fairytale, and I expected to see Peter Pan fly through the window and take me to Neverland. But then I came to my senses. Even if Peter Pan did exist, he wouldn't fly through my window. I was too old.

I strode downstairs wearing the dress and headed for the kitchens to thank Pierre. He was making some sweet tarts, and the flour on his apron was accompanied with some lemon filling. He looked shocked when he saw me.

"You were able to afford that?" He asked, amazed.

"No," I said, startled that he was so surprised. "I thought you had bought it for me."

He shook his head. "I can barely afford my own clothes as it is. I could never afford a dress like that." He turned back to decorating the tarts.

"Oh," I said, embarrassed. Then a thought suddenly came to me. "Of course!" I exclaimed out loud.

"Of course what?" Pierre asked without turning from his work.

"Oh, never mind." I said, and left the room. I knew who it was. I knew that there was only one other person who could have bought me the dress. I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it sooner. Erik was the only person I knew of who would have enough money for a dress like this.

Even though Erik had decided to turn over a new leaf, he still hadn't returned any of the money that he had received from the owners of the Opera Populaire. The choice had been his, but it hadn't exactly made me comfortable. It told me that a part of him still wished that he were the Phantom, and that worried me.

I didn't have time to go and ask Erik about the dress, so I merely went downstairs and to the parlor. There I waited, reading a book, until I heard the bell. I pretended to not have heard the bell, and continued to read the book in my hands.

M. Didier came in and looked over my shoulder. I looked up and put down my book.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." I greeted him.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," He returned the greeting and kissed my hand. I couldn't help but blush. I had thought that this meeting would be more like those of the twenty-first century. I had forgotten that it was the year 1870.

M. Didier sat down across from me and accepted the cup of tea that the maid handed him. He took a gentlemanly sip and set the cup down on the saucer. We sat there in comfortable silence as we waited for the maid.

Suddenly, M. Rouleau came bustling in. He sat down in the chair that was to my left, and blew on his tea.

"So," he began, "What are we talking about?" He looked from me to M. Didier. Neither of us said anything for a long while.

"So where exactly do you come from?" M. Didier asked me.

"What makes you so sure that I'm not French?" I asked slyly. M. Rouleau smiled knowingly. I didn't understand why.

"Because," M. Didier remarked, "Your name is not French." M. Rouleau continued to smile knowingly. It was getting on my nerves. "As well," M. Didier continued. "Though you have a convincing accent, it is not as strong as that of a true Frenchman."

"You mean, Frenchwoman," I countered. M. Didier smiled.

"Of course," he said.

Suddenly, M. Didier's smile didn't seem all that friendly. It seemed fixed to his face. I glanced at M. Rouleau, and his smile no longer seemed knowing. Now it seemed as though he were taunting me with an answer to a question that I had yet to ask. I realized with growing apprehension that I had been extremely naïve to think that there would never again be someone who would want to hurt me. I had been fooled, and I had accepted what I had been given without question. I felt my cheeks grow a little warm with embarrassment.

"Why don't we go and sit outside?" M. Didier suggested, smiling that same plastic smile. His mouth showed a tightness to it, but otherwise it seemed happy. His eyes, however, gave away his true feelings. He was repulsed by me, and I did not understand why.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, grateful that we would be out in the open where there would be more room to maneuver, should a problem arise.

I followed M. Didier outside. M. Rouleau said he wasn't feeling well and would retire to his bedroom so he could rest.

I sat down on the grass outside the house and sighed in relief. I felt more at ease outside, but I wasn't going to let myself be caught unaware.

"So, Mademoiselle," M. Didier addressed me. "Where are you really from?"

What was I supposed to tell him? I suddenly came up with a wonderful idea. "I was born in England, Monsieur." I said.

"Really?" He asked, seemingly interested. I nodded. He seemed to think this through for a moment before reaching a conclusion.

"Have you ever heard of a group called, The Servants?" He asked me quietly. It wasn't a frightened quiet, or even a tender quiet. It was a menacing quiet.

I shook my head. "No," I whispered almost inaudibly.

"They are a group of people who serve God, just as you do," he began. I noticed that he said 'you' and not 'we'. "But there is one small difference between them and you." He smiled cruelly, and I was so afraid that my heart nearly stopped beating.

"The Servants are obedient to God's will, and the rest of you are not." M. Didier stood up from where he had been sitting on a bench and reached out a hand to help me up. I stood up without his help and took two steps back. I had a bad feeling about him.

A/N: Please review. I just had an idea for a new story that I will write & post while I'm writing and posting this one. I will call it: The Life and Times of Raoul, The Fop. It will become a timeless classic and everywhere around the world, phangirls will rejoice as the ultimate humiliation of the Fop is read aloud daily! (I'm done ranting now.)