Chapter 53 Ghost
Erik awoke and tenderly focused on Jade. Then he saw her anguished stare fixed on the right side of his face.
His hand shot up to cover himself. With a lightening quick move, he rolled over and found the mask, which was lying next to his pillow. Frantically, he slid it on, and then looked up to see that she was gone.
With a pounding heart, he heaved himself out of bed and ran down the hall to her closed door. Flinging it open, he rushed inside. The bathroom door was ajar and from inside came the labored sounds of retching.
Dread engulfed him as he helplessly stood there. Seeing his reflection in the vanity mirror, he whirled around and savagely hit it. There was a dull thud of knuckles striking the cheval glass, and then pain ran up his arm, and dragged him back to reason.
Slumping onto the bench, he buried his head in his hands. How?
Had she removed it while he slept? He doubted it. She was too private for that. No, it was a simple accident.
Simple… nothing is simple in my life.
Cursing, he rose and faced the bathroom.
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Jade squatted with her nightgown hoisted up to her thighs as she cleaned up the foamy, yellow mess splattered across the floor. When she finished, she stared at the stains on the blue satin. Listlessly pulling the garment over her head, she stepped to the sink and tried to rub out the green blotches. Then laying it across a chair, she turned to the bathtub.
What she wouldn't give for a long soak and time to think!
He'll be upset if I don't go to him.
But she was stinking of vomit and sweat, and Erik would have to wait.
The sharp odor of the lavender soap cleared her head a little as she scrubbed hard, and tried to wash away the shock.
Standing on the soft rug next to the tub, Jade dried her glistening belly, and thought of the baby who had rested there only days before. Then suddenly, Erik's unmasked face returned and a wave of nausea hit her again. Abruptly, she hunched on the floor and shoved her fists into her stomach to quell the sickness.
When it receded, she stretched out her legs, and gazed at the golden sheen of candlelight reflected off the white tiled walls. It was soothing there in that pristine room. At that moment, she almost believed that the woes of her life could be held at bay.
It's Erik behind the mask. Nothing's changed.
Over the last month, she'd begun to believe that her husband, who was a passionate lover of beauty, was simply hiding ugliness or imperfection behind his mask. Before that, she'd tried to prepare herself for the unmasking by recalling facial disfigurements she'd seen over the years.
But his deformity was far worse than her imaginings! And the final irony was that amid the devastation of what should have been a face, was his intelligent, beautiful eye looking out from the nightmare.
Rising, Jade paced the room, as she wrestled with her growing shame. I had to leave him.It was my stomach that forced me to go. She argued with her inner voice which told her that she was a traitor and a coward.
Restlessly, she continued her pacing until she had enough courage to push open the bathroom door.
The bedroom was empty. Relieved, she went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a chemise, robe and slippers. Turning to the vanity stand, she nearly dropped the clothes when she saw the cracks in the mirror. In her mind's eye, she could see Erik's tall form emerging from the shadows as he rose up in fury over her betrayal.
Jade slowly dressed and contemplated her next move. The damage has been done. The longer I wait, the more difficult it will be for both of us. Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin and left the room.
The outside door was open, filling the room with cool, damp air. Erik stood in the doorway, looking out to the cavern beyond. The white linen shirt that draped his strong shoulders was crisscrossed with chaotic shadows that bled into his dark trousers.
He seemed lost in thought, and unaware of her.
Standing behind him, Jade stared at his slender hips for a few moments before tentatively touching his back. Muscles tightened beneath her fingers and he turned.
The mask was in place, frowning down at her—distant, untouchable. His icy gaze negated the warm caresses he'd showered on her the last three days. Guilt filled her, and she fought the urge to return to her room.
His mask was now useless. Her perfect memory could see the damage below—tainted flesh that spoke more of the grave than humanity. Opera Ghost, flashed through her mind as she nervously licked her lips.
Don't be a fool. This is Erik, the man you love.
Jade raised her eyes to his, and peered past his defenses. What she saw was disappointment, fear, and an inkling of hope. Those feelings waited for release, and the healing love of another.
I shouldn't have this power over him, she thought sadly. But that was what happened when two people gave each other their hearts. She had vowed to love him no matter what, and he was waiting for her to honor it.
Their honeymoon was over.
Standing on her toes, Jade wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. Erik stiffened for a moment. Then his mouth opened and he pulled her to him as he returned her kiss. There was no tongue, just a gliding of his lips across her face. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the couch where he kissed her neck as she lightly stroked the back of his head.
Leaning back into the crook of his arm, she felt his wet softness slowly caress her while the image of his devastated face exploded beneath her closed lids. Her stomach was calm now, and she was grateful for that.
After awhile, he stopped and rested his bare face against her neck. Gently, she lifted his chin so that she could gaze into his eyes.
"I am very sorry, Erik," she said softly.
He traced her lips with his fingers and gave her a long, penetrating look. "There is nothing to forgive, my dear," he replied.
The iciness had vanished, but doubt and pain remained.
Laying her head against his chest, Jade solemnly stared into the candlelight as she pondered their future.
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The following evening, Manette untied her white starched apron, and slowly walked to the stairs, where she called to Jean to come down for dinner. Sitting at the kitchen table, she pressed her hand to her aching back, and let out a deep sigh. She pulled a letter from her pocket that had been waiting for her when she'd come home from work. At last she had time to give it her full attention. It was her second letter from Jade since the accident, and she hoped that it would say more than the last.
My dearest Manette and Jean,
I pray that this finds you well.
Once again, please accept my heartfelt thanks for your assistance on Wednesday after the occurrence of my unfortunate accident. Your kind attentions greatly eased my discomfort.
With each passing day, I am getting stronger. I expect that we will soon be together again.
When I am fully recovered, I would like the two of you to be my guests for dinner at Le Grand Cafe.
I look forward to seeing you soon.
Jade Marsolais
Manette absently massaged her back as she analyzed the letter. Something was wrong. Jade would have visited them by now if she wasn't seriously injured.
She was reading the letter a second time when Jean entered the kitchen.
"What is that?" he asked as he looked over her shoulder.
Handing it to him, she watched him carefully while he read it. When he finished, he was scowling.
"It is I who should be giving something to her," he said gruffly.
Twisting her skirt in her hands, Manette waited for what would follow. Jean was staring at the yellow table cloth. Suddenly, he clenched his fist, and brought it down hard on the surface causing the glassware to tinkle.
"Damn that pig," he snarled. His angry eyes pierced Manette's. "I'm not wrong. I know what I saw!"
He jumped up and strode to the kitchen sink which he leaned on for a moment. Then with a rough shake of his head, he returned and sat down.
"It was Ferat in the flies when the batten fell," he stated. "The blow that Jade took was meant for me."
There was nothing new about this declaration. He had been saying it since the accident. After the batten fell, Jean had looked up and seen a figure moving easily amid the ropes and planks as if the man was well acquainted with them. The shadows hid his face but Jean recognized that tall, lanky figure. It was Adolphe Ferat. On the day before, he'd had a heated argument with him and two of the other set movers, at which time Ferat had threatened him with his fists.
After an anguished debate, Manette had finally convinced him not to confront Ferat but rather, to report the incident to DuChant. So far, nothing had come of it since the man had not been officially charged. Ferat had a witness who claimed that they'd been together at the time of the accident. Over the last several days, Jean had been nosing around the opera house, and trying to find evidence that would prove that Ferat was guilty.
While staring at her husband's flushed face, Manette suddenly remembered the blood stained rags that she had taken from Jade after the accident. She blanched. Had Jade been pregnant? If so, it would explained the tension that had been etched on her friend's face as she waited for M Marsolais.
With a heavy sigh, she rose and put the rest of the food on the table. No good would come of telling Jean her hunch. It would only fuel his anger, which might lead to something rash. Besides, it was possible that her guess was wrong.
Manette sincerely hoped that was the case.
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That night, the two men staggered down the poorly lit, narrow street in the tenth arrondissement as they headed towards their apartment house. Entering the dank courtyard of the building, they sloshed through puddles of standing water as they followed the dim gaslight that lit the second story landing. Gripping the iron rail of the wooden staircase, they hauled themselves up to the third floor. The small, windowless room that they stepped into was sparsely furnished with a bed, trunk, and a table with two chairs. After the candles were lit, the men sat down and began to argue.
"You owe me, Claude," the tall man groused. "You'd better not back out of this. If you do, it'll just take one word to the police and there'll be a knock on your door."
The other man snorted and gave him a twisted smile. "Don't threaten me. What you did is a lot worse than stealing someone's name and a little money." He was getting tired of Adolphe Ferat's endless haranguing on the matter.
Ferat pugnaciously continued while shoving his face closer to the other. "I saw you cringe when Dubois cornered you the other day. You'll be a piss poor witness if this goes any further. If you cave in to the police…" He stopped, and glowered at his companion.
"You're a fool," the other man replied indifferently. "You got lucky. Just a few inches off, and you could have killed Dubois. You'd better learn to control your temper."
Clenching his fist, Ferat looked down his long nose with contempt. "I knew what I was doing. It was just a trick to scare him. If that stupid, stable whore hadn't been in the way there wouldn't have been a problem."
They talked in the same vein for five minutes more, and then Claude left for his own room.
Extinguishing the candles, Ferat kicked off his heavy boots, and stretched out on the bed. As he pulled the dirt stained blankets around him, he heard a slight noise. Rats, he thought. In his drunken state he didn't care. The filthy beasts could eat the heel of old bread on the table and leave him be for the night.
In a few moments, he drifted off and began to snore.
Suddenly, his eyes were open and staring into the dark as he felt the stranglehold at his throat. He tried to scream, but there was something pressed hard against his mouth. Gagging, he groped the air and kicked wildly until he found a cloth covered, steely arm, which he tried to rip away. The crushing weight on his chest pinned him down, and thwarted his struggle to throw off his assailant.
After thrashing about uselessly for a half minute longer, he finally collapsed.
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Erik carefully removed the lasso from the dead man's throat. His gloved hands tenderly coiled the soft rope, which he deftly tucked into his cloak. Before slipping from the room, he paused a moment to stare at the faint outline of the corpse.
On the street below, the cool night air washed away the tension that had been plaguing him for the last two days. His long legs carried him down the street as he eagerly headed back to his home.
Jade was waiting for him there, possibly asleep by now. She had spent last night alone in her bed. Perhaps it would be best for her to do the same tonight. Hot blood was pulsing through him, and he wasn't sure he would be able to restrain himself if she lay next to him. She was still healing from the loss of their baby and coupling was out of the question. If he needed to be with her, he would have to sit by her bedside as he had done the night before.
But it might not be necessary. He felt very satisfied with tonight's work. It was likely that he would sleep well.