Chapter 18: The Aftermath of Meg's Havoc
[featuring "Duty Calls" and "Erik Rethinks His Life Choices"]
The master of Mazandaran had spiraled into another bout of melancholy. Mournful violin music echoed through the empty halls of the manor and no one dared approach Erik's room. Among the servants, rumour had it that there'd been a falling out between him and Mademoiselle Giry, but no one who wanted to keep their job dared ask any questions.
"Meg, you have no one to blame but yourself," Madame Giry said when her daughter grumbled about Erik's absence from the breakfast table again. She'd heard all about Meg's little stunt with the letters, and she had very little sympathy for her devious daughter.
Meg pursed her lips at her mother's harsh words, and she pursed them tighter when she realized her mother was right. She'd squandered any chance she could've had with Erik if she'd just left well enough alone; and yet, she hadn't lost hope entirely. After all, Erik hadn't made any plans to return to Paris. Why wasn't he rushing off on an ocean liner to claim the woman he loved? Perhaps, Erik did love Meg and was just waiting for his anger to pass so he could forgive her.
Meg and Madame Giry looked up toward the sound of heaving footsteps plodding into the breakfast room. Erik roughly yanked his chair from the table and flopped into it. He scowled at the mother and daughter duo who continued to quietly eat their breakfast, feigning ignorance of the third member of their party.
"Madame Giry," Erik said sharply. "I trust you will have everything under control for the next few weeks. I leave for Paris tomorrow."
"Of course," Madame Giry answered obediently.
"Excellent."
Erik rose from his seat and shoved the chair under the table with a loud scraping din. After he stomped out of the breakfast room, Madame Giry rolled her eyes at his poor manners.
"I can't believe it!" Meg whispered when Erik was out of earshot. "He's going to find Christine! He's going to marry her and bring her back here!"
"What do you mean, 'you can't believe it'?" her mother scoffed. The root of all their problems was Erik's unshakable love for Christine. If it hadn't been for that damned woman, Madame Giry would still be the ballet-mistress of the world's greatest opera company, not the head housekeeper of a misanthrope's estate.
"I mean, I guess I can believe it…" Meg mumbled. "I just hoped he wouldn't..."
"Meg, you have no one to blame but yourself," Madame Giry repeated.
"That's all you have to say?" Meg wailed. "You're probably glad she's coming back, aren't you?"
"Why would I care?"
"You should care. Christine's going to be the lady of the house, and she's going to boss everyone around and be an absolute menace!" Meg complained. It'd been obvious that Christine had enjoyed playing the mistress of Mazandaran. Now that she'd be the actual lady of the house, the streets of New York City were looking like a preferable place for Meg to live.
"I'm sure she won't be that bad," Madame Giry said, though she did hope Christine didn't interfere with her job as head housekeeper.
"Hmph!" Meg grunted. She rose from the table and fled the room, leaving her mother to finish breakfast alone in a much enjoyed silence.
Madame Giry burst into Erik's while he was scrambling to pack his steamer trunk for his voyage to Paris.
"Get out! You're not allowed in here," Erik snapped, waving a pair of trousers at Madame Giry. The stern ex-ballet mistress yanked the pants out of his hand and tossed them aside.
"If you don't want people seeing your messy room, clean it once in a while," Madame Giry scoffed before giving Erik a well deserved slap across the face.
"Ow! What was that for?" he shrieked.
"That's for leading my daughter on, you scoundrel!"
"I did no such thing!" Erik folded his arms across his chest to mimic Madame Giry's intimidating stance.
"Yes you did! You were taking her for walks and spending time with her and treating her like Christine!"
"Precisely," Erik said. "Madame Giry, I think my feelings for Christine are quite obvious, but while she was a guest in my home, I made no romantic overtures to her whatsoever. I treated her as a lady and a friend, which is exactly how I've treated your daughter."
"Oh...well, I think Meg thought equal treatment represented equal attachment."
"Hmph," Erik grunted before letting out a long exhausted sigh. "Christine is the mother of my son. My own flesh and blood! I will not allow the two of them to wither away in genteel poverty because of my careless mistakes."
"Then this isn't about Christine at all, is it?" Madame Giry said snidely. "You're not doing this out of love, but out of duty."
"I never said that," Erik snapped, though he wondered whether it was the truth.
"What's she going to be? Madame X?"
"Hey! Stop mocking me! She'll be Madame Y, I suppose, because I don't have any other last name to give her."
While Madame Giry howled with laughter, Erik rolled his eyes and left the room. The woman's cackling, however, was cut short, when she caught sight of Erik's poorly packed trunk overflowing with unfolded clothes bundled on top of a stack of books he'd finish reading by the time he returned home. Madame Giry stared at the trunk, resisting the urge to fix another one of Erik's messes, but the meticulous woman could take it no longer.
"Useless men…" she muttered as she knelt down beside the trunk.
Erik wandered through the empty corridors of his manor and crossed the bifurcated staircase to the opposite wing of the house. He knocked on Meg's bedroom door, rehearsing the apology he'd planned for her during the walk from his chambers.
"Oh, it's you," Meg sneered when she opened her door.
"Yeah...can I come in?" Erik mumbled.
"Fine." Meg turned on her heels, and Erik followed her into the Rococo room.
Erik's dark figure stood out against the pastel decor of the boudoir. He gingerly sat beside Meg on a plush pink sofa and stared at his hands in his lap as he prepared to speak.
"Meg, I believe I owe you an apology," Erik said grimly. "I was not clear in my intentions, and I'm very sorry."
"I forgive you...I guess," Meg said stubbornly before letting out a long defeated sigh. "It was silly for me to get my hopes up. After all, you wrote Christine opera arias, and all I got was cheap vaudeville songs that probably took you ten minutes to write."
"Hey! I work hard on those songs. They're so different from my usual work," Erik teased warmly.
Meg blushed when he smiled at her. "And I'm so sorry again for what I did with the letters," she confessed sincerely. "I shouldn't have acted out of jealousy like that...and...and I hope Christine accepts your proposal."
"It's alright, Meg. All is forgiven," Erik said grimly, "and thank you. I hope she accepts my proposal as well." He averted his eyes towards his lap again. It'd been a mistake to send Christine back to Paris, but did she have it in her heart to forgive him one last time?
"Oh, she'll accept," Meg scoffed. "If you saw the kind of mushiness she was sending you, you'd have no doubt about that.
"Meg, please tell me. What did Christine say?" Erik grabbed Meg's hands. The sight of his hazy lovesick eyes made her heart sink; he was thinking of another woman when he looked at her like that.
"Well..." Meg forced herself to smile as she tried to remember what Christine wrote, but she couldn't recall anything specifically so she made up some generic romantic remarks. "She loves you madly. And she misses you and thinks of you always...and Gustave misses you too!"
"Gustave…" Erik whispered. He closed his eyes as he thought of his little boy waiting for him on the other side of the Atlantic. He couldn't wait to bring them home.
"Meg, thank you for telling me the truth," Erik said. "It means so much to me...you mean so much to me," he added shyly. He patted her hands and released them from his grasp before standing up from the sofa and exiting the room.
Meg watched him leave and wondered what she saw in Erik that made her care for him the way she did. She'd always been a tiny bit jealous of Christine for having an "Angel". Meg wanted to be saved too, and Erik did save her. Maybe he didn't love her, but he cared for her a great deal.