Hey everyone! Boy, that's quick right? Well, I did tell you my muses have returned from their tropical island, and all your lovely welcome back-reviews have surely helped as well, so there you go. This one's nice and long and, oh yeh, VERY evil. Don't worry, we will deal with that later on. I've also been getting some hints from the We love Luca-fanclub as to his relations with a certain young ballerina...Only time will tell ladies! Boys will be boys after all, and this particular prototype doesn't seem too interested in wooing the ladies..yet! Ha! Enjoy and stay tuned for more to come... -x- Lotte.

A bleak stroke of sunlight penetrated the misty skies as a carriage made its way down the dreamy lanes towards the grand estate of Chagny. The two young people inside had hardly exchanged a word during the half hour ride their journey had taken them. Roger had been too busy preparing his meeting with the Vicomte, while Céline had stared out the window in nervous anticipation of seeing her childhood home again. Would she remember it? Would it have altered much? How would her family react to their visit? As the carriage came to a hold and the groundsmen hurried to meet them, Céline could only admire the blooming parks around her while Roger came straight to business.

"Monsieur and Madame Roger DuChamps to see Monsieur Vicomte."

Francois and Stéphane de Chagny de Bonneville were only just finishing their lunch as they were notified of the arrival of their visitors. Francois, drunk at midday as usual, yawned in agony before eying his son. "Not some of your tedious townsfolk friends I hope? I have no appetite to entertain them again boy."

Stéphane shook his head in surprise. "The name is not familiar to me father. Indeed I do not know to what we would have the pleasure of…"

The servant cleared his throat before quietly continuing. "Monsieur mentioned should you enquire after a reference, his wife was formerly known as Céline Juliette Marguerite de Chagny, daughter to Raoul Guillaume, Vicomte de Chagny."

At that, Francois snorted. "Well well, my niece comes to visit. If she is as pretty as her mother this could be very interesting indeed."

The large doors to the salon swung open as even Francois made a civil attempt to rise from his seat. As she closed her eyes Céline had a vague remembrance of her mother playing the piano in here while she sat playing with her dolls. So long ago it seemed. Now the house was no longer hers and its new inhabitants stood eying her curiously as she curtsied before them.

"Monsieur, Madame, a pleasure to make your acquaintance I'm sure. My darling niece…I was right, you see Stéphane? A spitting image of her mother. Too bad you're already wed dear, my son could do with a pretty wife like you."

A shiver of fear and disgust went down her spine as she sat, before feeling Roger squeezing her hand in reassurance and catching an apologetic look from her younger cousin.

After tea and all polite comments of health and decorum had been exchanged, Stéphane decided to come to the point before his father had a chance to bully their young relation any further. Setting down his teacup he cautiously enquired as to the purpose of their visit, to which Roger sprang to life with his well studied monologue.

"The circumstances of my late father-in-law's all too early demise have been very sad indeed, as you will be well aware of. My poor mother-in-law could hardly stand to live and breathe, let alone remain in a place that held so many haunted memories to her. In her haste to depart the country to seek a new and brighter future however, it is my understanding that the issue of her husband's inheritance has never fully been dealt with correctly, a matter we have come to remedy now that my wife is a respectably married woman come of age. We were hoping to be granted access to her father's final will and testament to learn of her rights with regards to his possessions and noble lineage."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as Stéphane glanced over at his father, unsure of how to proceed. As delicate and flattering as their purpose had been formed, it was quite clear they meant to find only one thing: money. And whether or no they would be entitled to it, it was the one thing he knew Francois was very loathe to part from. As suspected, it did not take long for his father to wake up from his stoic slumbers and stare from one to the other, before bursting out in a hysterical fit of laughter.

"Possessions? Lineage? Whatever are you talking of man? If your woman had been of such importance to this house, would you think I would have allowed that harlot of a mother of hers to simply run off with the first suitor who came for her? Ha! I must say you have quite the sense of humor my boy, for that alone I should compensate you."

Roger straightened his back, not sure he liked the direction the conversation was steering in. "Monsieur Vicomte, I must beg you to refrain from such harsh and insulting words on the name of my wife and her relatives. Being among men of good breeding I am sure we may find a solution to this situation without any further embarrassment to any party."

Francois' red face had by now taken on a darker gloom, and his son knew better than to counterset him in a mood like this. And so he sat silent once more, stealing nervous glances at the young girl before him who had by now turned awfully pale.

"Very well Monsieur DuChamps, let me then put this in words you commoners can relate to better: Her father left her nothing. No money, no titles, no houses, not even a daisy in the lawn around this very house! My dear cousin, in his youthful innocence, had no doubt intended to have many more a child than the mere one daughter his wife had managed to pop out in their early years of marriage. Boys, sons, heirs to his lineage. A daughter was all well and good to keep his wife and mother company, yet what would he do with her besides marrying her off at a good price? Name her the Vicomtesse the Chagny? No Monsieur, marrying a common Opera singer was one blow to the crest, but another novelty in the family would no longer be accepted. And so he pranced about town on his fancy horse, boasting of his girl's angelic smiles while shagging her mother day and night for a proper heir. I cannot say which gave out sooner, his weak seed or his rotten lungs, but before the Vicomtesse could get fat again her husband died of that typhoid fever in the winter of '75 and our branch of the family finally received the honours that were their due."

Céline took in blow after blow, forcing herself to stay calm. Her mother had been right then, in her assumptions her father did not care. In loving memory of his deceased spirit Christine Alighieri had never bothered to acquaint her child with all the painful details, thinking they would not matter now that they had started a new and happy life.

Yet now she knew the truth, spat out to her by this hateful man calling himself family, and worse he seemed to enjoy their astonishment over it. Suddenly this little voice inside of her started scolding her for coming here, for leaving Venice at all. Why had she run from her family so rashly? Because you were so very convinced you knew how to manage your own life, you weakling! her spirit shouted at her. And now there was nowhere to run from the truth: Raoul de Chagny had found her a pretty filler for his household, yet had not bothered to even settle the smallest sum of money on her to ensure her health and security in life.

Roger sat equally shocked, were it for different reasons. No money. None. Not even a few thousand Francs. How was this possible? Did not the French law instruct children should be equally bestowed upon by their parents? Yes, you fool, it does now. But where was that rule twenty years back? And how would that rule have applied if the idiot calling himself Céline's father never even bothered to draw up a will in the first place?

Francois seemed satisfied with the effect of his words and took his leave with a pitiful bow, murmuring about the nerve of scavengers these days before retreating to his private chambers. Stéphane still sat beholding his guests, before offering a quiet apology.

"My father has not long ago lost his own partner in life. My mother has been sick for a long time before finally being called upon by our dear Lord. His grief over her loss causes him to overindulge in alcohol I'm afraid, I must therefore beg you to forgive his rudeness. The…other matter I cannot assist you with any further, I'm afraid. Unless perhaps…"

He quickly rose, his guests following his example in anticipation.

"I believe some possessions of your mother and father are still in storage in the East Wing of the Estate. I would be happy to accompany you there. Perhaps you will find something of value amongst them, something you hold dear. The memories of your youth one could say. I would be happy to let you take anything you wish, cousin."

Roger was eager to protest at the young man's dismissal of him, yet upon seeing Céline's radiant smile he knew he could not in good conscience drag her away from this place before allowing her to ransack through the no doubt scarce belongings the Vicomte was willing to offer her. If you deny her now God knows she will start denying you on much more delicate grounds old boy! Keep her happy for now! And so her offered her his warmest smile, squeezed her hand once more and followed her to her hidden treasures.

"Trinkets, a box of bloody trinkets. Is that all we are to receive after being scolded like common beggars from the street? It's an abomination, I tell you. After I'm done with them no member of the Opera cast shall want them as patron no more. And those are the people who dare call themselves your family! May God strike them for their insolence!"

Céline sat by, too tired to counterset Roger in his angry ramblings. This whole trip had been one big mistake. It was quite clear her parent's marriage, which she had so often romaticised in her head, was hardly as accepted as she had believed it to be. Her "branch" of the family, as Francois had so bluntly put it, had no doubt been the laughing stock of Paris. Would her mother have felt equally embarrassed and put down as she did now?

Would her family and so-called friends have degraded her and looked down upon her? Would they have blamed her for not baring a son? Would her father have?

"I beg your pardon, what did you just say?" Something he had just said had filtered through into her brain and it surely wasn't something she would accept from him.

"I said it is clear your mother had no feel for financial matters at all, or she would have demanded early on you would be given your proper share. But seeing her gentle character she probably swooned to your father's every word and never bothered to break her pretty head over what might happen should he decease before herself."

A sudden anger overtook Céline, no longer would she stand by idly while her dear family was dragged through the mud. Least of all her dear mother.

"What gives you the right to speak of maman like that! She gave up everything she knew to be with my father, and after he died she gave up everything again to see us through hard times! She had to start from scratch in a foreign country as no one in Paris was willing to look out for the 'Opera singer turned Vicomtesse'. If not for my f…" she suddenly cut herself off, realising what she was going to say. If not her father had been there to take care of them, to take them in…and how had she repaid his unwavering care and devotion?

"Your father, is that what you were going to say? That deluded masked man who has done nothing but drive us apart from the moment we arrived to his house? Don't tell me you're suddenly having a change of heart Céline dearest, that our sacrifices have been in vain. For I would be more than happy to relieve you of this burden and send you back to them, if they will still have you after your last glorious fit that is!"

A sudden terror gripped Céline's heart, as she realised the gravity of his words. Would he truly leave her? Divorce her? Send her back to Venice? No, it would be impossible. She knew she would no longer be welcome there. She would truly have no one left!

"Roger no…you cannot be serious. I love you, and I believed you loved me, I mean…Oh dear God, why is this happening? Why are we having this conversation? Oh dearest why did we ever go to that dreaded place?"

He sighed in relief as she sank into his arms sobbing. There. Her rebellion had been dealt with. He had seen the fear in his eyes as he threatened to leave her, and knew she would do anything to stay in his favour. After all, who else was there?

As he possessed her body that night, Céline gasping at him in admiration, he had already started working on his new plan. He would contact Signore Alighieri's attorney at law by post, requesting the old man to relinquish his daughter's share of his inheritance, as was common upon marriage. He knew beyond a doubt her mother would not see her without means, and all would be alright again as soon as the money was within his reach.

He also made a solemn vow to seek out Sophie before the week was out. Much as he enjoyed his power over the pretty brunette, he felt himself longing for a screaming banshee straddling him, rather than the quiet obedient girl shattering beneath him now…

Hey! What are you people glaring at? I warned you it was strait and plain EVIL right? -x- LM