I am back! Thank you all for your patience with me and my irregular updates. Thank you all for reading, for putting on alert, adding to favorites, but most of all for reviewing! I know it is hard to keep following a story when it is updated only once in a while. You guys truly rock for sticking with me! And it is your continued support that keeps me going.
Anyway, let's get on with the next chapter. I hope you won't be too mad at me! And keep in mind that I do not own these characters...sadly.
Chapter 18 – It's Over Now The Music Of The Night
Erik was in a bad mood. Or rather, in a terrible mood. To call it bad would have been the understatement of the century. He did not know anymore what to do, what to think, or even how to survive. He had not received one single letter from either his beloved Christine or his good friend Antoinette in months. At first he had tried to convince himself that the ladies were simply busy. After all, the Opéra Populaire would probably be preparing a new production and there might be strenuous rehearsals. One letter, maybe even two, could also have been lost in the mail somehow. But too much time had passed to explain away the ladies' continued silence in a logical way. Therefore it was obvious to Erik that something terrible must have happened that prevented the two of them from writing.
But what? Were they ill? But surely not both or them would be sick at the same time? At least one of them should be able to write and explain the situation. Could the Vicomte have something to do with the absence of letters? Had Christine succumbed to his advances and now was reluctant to tell Erik that she had chosen another? Was Antoinette maybe hesitant to inform him of this changed situation because she did not want to hurt him? Or was it not the Vicomte but some other handsome man, closer to Christine in age than he himself was? Or... Erik did not even dare think about that last possibility, but was it truly impossible that they both had died? An accident maybe?
More than once Erik came very close to packing his things and returning to Paris to find out himself what had happened, why Christine and Antoinette had stopped writing. But there was Nadir to consider as well. His good old friend, who was only slowly recovering from pneumonia, and who needed him, since Darius spoke next to no English and therefore would have been pretty lost without Erik. There was also the fact that even if his two companions had not needed him, Erik could not risk returning to France, where he was a wanted criminal, no to mention Erik's obligations towards Mr. Stanton. He could not really leave his boss during the last stages of preparation for the reopening of his theater.
Nadir had promised to go to Paris once he would be well enough to travel, but the Persian's recovery took longer than anticipated. The daroga was a creature of a hot and dry climate and thus ill equipped for the humid, foggy London weather. It might have been possible for Darius to travel to Paris, but even assuming that he could be convinced to leave his master if only for a few days, what good would that have done? Darius had never been to the Opéra Populaire before, he did not even know what either Christine or Antoinette looked like. So how would he be able to contact them? And even if he managed to talk to either one of them – would they believe he was truly sent by Erik? Wouldn't they suspect that a stranger approaching them was a trap, intent on making them give away the Phantom's whereabouts?
Erik groaned. Right now he could not even bury himself in his work, trying to take his mind off the constantly growing fear that something terrible must have happened to Christine and Antoinette. The reopening of "The Music House" had been a huge success, the performances of "L'Elisir d'Amore" were sold out every night, and it seemed as if they might have to prolong the run of this production. Therefore there was no need to start working on the next play yet. All he had to do was to see that the performances went smoothly, that any tiny damage to a costume or set piece was repaired immediately. Erik felt frustrated. He had a feeling as if he needed to do something, but at the same time he knew there was nothing he could do. He also had the nagging impression that he was running out of time, that whatever it was he should have done, should have been done weeks ago, that he was wasting valuable time, that he was somehow losing a battle.
Nadir's sudden gasp interrupted Erik's thoughts and reminded him of the situation that needed his immediate attention: his sick friend.
"What is it, Nadir?" Erik asked, trying not to betray his anxiety and fear, to sound cheerful for his friend's sake.
"Nothing," Nadir replied, closing the newspaper he had been reading a bit too quickly and trying a bit too obviously to hide it from Erik.
Erik sighed. "Don't lie, daroga," he told the older man. "It is obvious that you are hiding something. I know you too well. I can see that there is something troubling you. Is it something you read in that paper that you are trying to make disappear?"
"No, no," Nadir was quick to reply. "It is nothing, as I said. Really, Erik. Nothing at all." He was fidgeting so nervously while talking, though, that Erik knew he was not speaking the truth.
"You are lying again," Erik stated. "That is a fact, not speculation. So why are you keeping things from me? What is it that you try to prevent me from learning? It must have something to do with this paper. Hiding it from me will not keep me from learning the truth. All I need to do is go out and purchase another copy of this same newspaper. So will you show it to me now or not?"
"Please Erik," Nadir begged. "Do not ask me about it. Just forget it. For your own sake!"
"My own sake?" Erik roared. "What are you talking about, man? Now will you hand me that paper or not?"
"Here," Nadir gingerly held the page he had been reading out to Erik. "But do not say that I did not warn you!"
Erik grabbed the piece of paper and unfolded it. Then his eyes grew wide. He could not believe what he saw. He was staring at the society page of the publication, and there, almost over half the page was a huge ad, announcing that the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny and the up and coming opera diva Christine Daaé, both of Paris, but with the intention of starting a cooperation with one or more London theaters soon, had been joined in holy matrimony in a private ceremony at the Vicomte's mansion the previous week.
A savage growl escaped Erik, as he finally understood the meaning of the printed words in front of him. "That unfaithful, perfidious bitch!" he exclaimed. "That shameless whore! Marrying a man who is well-known for his voracious sexual appetite and that will betray her with half of Paris, maybe even in her own home! Heck, he will probably make her watch or even participate in his orgies! But why would she care. He has a handsome face, money, a title and a position in society. He even is the Populaire's patron and thus able to provide her with starring roles. All she has to do in return is let him fondle her naked body and spread her legs for him! I wonder how she got him to marry her. He would certainly have promoted her career even if she had just shed her clothes for him and let him use her body."
He laughed. How bizarre! The woman he had been worried sick about was probably right now cavorting naked for a lascivious nobleman, seductively spreading her legs for a debauched womanizer, begging him to take her, satisfying his manly needs with hands and mouth as well.
"Idiot that I am!" he bellowed. "Thinking that she could love me! Me, the ugly, deformed, hunted down, wanted criminal! She wanted a man! She wanted lust! She must have been desperate since even I seemed acceptable to her! If only I had known what it was she wanted! But I did not give her the thrill she was looking for. I respected her as if she were a saint! And the moment I am out of the picture she starts looking for a man again. The Vicomte has always lusted for her. With me gone, she must have sold herself to him as the highest bidder. Heck, she probably would have left me for him even if I had stayed, for he is such a great catch. Except for his debauchery, but apparently she does not mind being a man's sex-toy."
He went on ranting, imagining the Vicomte and Christine engaging in the most perverted activities together and enjoying them. He did not even hear Nadir's weak attempts to calm him down. He paced up and down, raging, shaking his fists in agony, threatening the unfaithful woman one moment and the luckier rival the next.
Finally Erik broke down, collapsing to the floor, sobbing. Nadir, who had helplessly watched the scene of his friend's madness finally dared approaching Erik again.
He sat down on the floor next to Erik and put his arm around his friend. "You do not know what happened," he said soothingly. "He may have tricked her somehow. But be that as it may, keep in mind that even if you lost her, you are not alone. I will always be your friend, and Darius has grown quite fond of you since you have joined us in London. Also, for the first time in many years you have a job that you are good at and that you enjoy, a boss that respects you..."
Erik was numb. He did not listen. Not for a long while. Everything within him felt raw. He could not remember the last time he had felt so betrayed, had been in so much pain.
Nadir did not give up, though. He sat with Erik for hours, talking to him, comforting him, making him realize that life still had a lot to offer and that it would help nobody if he gave up on himself and life in general now.
Erik finally calmed down. He realized that Nadir was right, that he had to forget Christine and go on with his life. "Only if you let this development destroy you, will the Vicomte truly have won," Nadir had said, and Erik knew that this was true. He would not be defeated that easily. The Vicomte may have taken Christine away from him, but he would never ever be able to destroy Erik!
Xxxx
Erik excused himself from work for a few days, pretending to have caught a slight cold, in order to compose himself fully before returning to "The Music House" and face his employer and the various ensemble members again.
When he went back to work about a week later, he was surprised to find Mr. Stanton at the theater. "Are you staying for the evening performance?" Erik asked, trying to sound as relaxed as usual. "Will Miss Amanda-Ann be joining you?"
Mr. Stanton shook his head. "I need to talk to you, Givenould," he said, nervously fumbling with some sheet music. "In private. May we go to your office, please?"
Erik wondered what this was about. What was it his boss could possibly want to discuss with him in private? Was he maybe not happy with his work anymore? He began to feel nervous as well. But he just nodded politely and followed Mr. Stanton to his office.
Once there, Mr. Stanton seemed to grow even more embarrassed. He fell into a seat, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and began wiping his forehead.
"I hope you will forgive my behavior, Givenould," he finally mumbled. "My intrusion into your private life."
Erik cocked his visible eyebrow. He had absolutely no idea what Mr. Stanton might be talking about.
"This is very... mortifying … awkward... for me," Stanton continued. "And I would not even dream about doing this if it were not for my daughter..."
"Is something the matter with Miss Amanda-Ann?" Erik asked, slightly worried. He did care for the sick girl, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had not seen her in a while. Was she maybe unwell? Was that the cause of Mr. Stanton's odd behavior?
Mr. Stanton shook his head. "No, not at all. That is..." He looked at Erik. "Before I continue, I have to ask you something, Givenould, and please forgive me, for this is a very private question and I have absolutely no right to ask you such a thing. But, please, for Heaven's sake, tell me, is there a woman in your life? Somebody you are seeing and maybe hoping for a future with her?"
Erik stared at the wall behind Mr. Stanton's head. His eyes suddenly held so much pain it tore at the older man's heart. Mr. Stanron bit his lip. Of course! How could he have been so stupid! He had forgotten about Erik's mask! Not every girly was like his daughter, seeing the mask as something that made him more her equal. Most other girls would not want anything to do with this man.
"I am sorry, forgive me," Stanton mumbled, trying to cover up his faux-pas. "I was not thinking, I did not mean to remind you..."
Erik did not even listen. "There was one once," he told the wall. "Back in France. We were planning to get married once I'd have made enough money that I could support a wife." He shook his head, trying to shake off the painful memory of Christine's betrayal at the same time. "She did not wait," he added matter-of-factly. "She married a handsome man with a face that does not need to be hidden underneath a mask."
Mr. Stanton took a deep breath. "I am sorry," he told Erik. Then he summoned all his courage and continued. "In that case, I have to tell you something." He took another deep breath. "Amanda-Ann is missing you a lot," he informed Erik. "She keeps asking when you will pay us a visit again. She... has fallen in love with you."
Erik's eyes widened in shock. "I cannot see her again," he declared. "I am sorry, I did not want to bring disturbance to your home and pain to Miss Amanda-Ann. I will stay away from now on. Surely her feelings cannot be that deep yet that she cannot overcome her infatuation with me... After all, she is still a child."
Mr. Stanton shook his head. "No, Givenould – Erik - it is too late for that. She is no child, I know she looks younger than she is, but she is seventeen and she has lost her heart to you, and she is suffering from your absence. Please, stop by more regularly again and see her, and …. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but since your heart is free, and it won't be for long anyway, since she has only a few more years left, ..." His voice trailed, suddenly aware of the enormity of what he was asking of Erik.
Erik gasped. "You cannot mean what I think you are saying," he whispered. "You cannot possibly be asking me to... to..."
"To marry my daughter, yes," Mr. Stanton confirmed. "I know that you do not love her, but I think you like her and care for her enough that you can make her happy. It will only be a fake happiness, true, but she need not know. She has grown weaker over the past couple of weeks, pining for you. If you stay away now or tell her that you do not return her feelings, she will probably get worse, die prematurely of a broken heart. But if you could find it in you to propose to her, marry her and give her a short period of happiness, even if it's only a fake one, then I will bless you as my daughter's savior."
Erik stared ahead, speechless. Should he accept this offer? Could he? Was it right to lie to Amanda-Ann, to pretend loving her? Would that not be a betrayal similar to what Christine had done to him?
"I would give her "The Music House" as part of her dowry," Mr. Stanton continued. "That way, the theater would be yours. As her husband you could run it for her, and later on..." He could not make himself talk about the fact that his daughter would not live much longer. "Then the theater would be yours," he simply stated.
Erik sighed. "The theater does not enter into this," he said firmly. "If I do it, I won't do it because of the theater. I cannot deny that I care for Miss Amanda-Ann, and I have a feeling as if it could be very satisfying to be there for her, protect her, and try my best to make her happy. But... is it right to make her believe in my love, when all I feel for her is the love for a young child or a little sister? And..." He blushed furiously. "I do not... fancy her in that way." What he was trying to express in such a delicate way was that he did not desire Amanda-Ann. But he could not talk about her in a sexual context to her father, or could he?
"I understand," Mr. Stanton said, turning a similar shade of red. "But there cannot be any children anyway, because of her condition, and also because she would most likely pass it on to a child as well. So maybe if you told her that you have to wait till she gets a bit stronger?" He hesitated. "You would not have any problems holding her, kissing her?"
Erik looked down. It would not be the same as it had been with Christine, but holding Amanda-Ann in his arms, keeping her safe, protecting her, did not sound too bad to him. And if she did not expect too passionate a kiss, he might be able to give her that as well. "I think I can do that," he mumbled. Then he looked Mr. Stanton straight in the eyes. "Thank you, Monsieur," he said, "for your trust. For considering me worthy of your precious daughter and laying her future into my hands."
He swore to himself that he would do his best to make Amanda-Ann happy. After all, he knew from proper experience how much it hurt to have your heart broken by the person you love most in the world. He would make sure that sweet, little Amanda-Ann would not have to go through a similar experience. And... that way his life would have a new meaning, a new purpose again. There was somebody out there that needed him, somebody that ached for his presence. Maybe there was a reason for his wretched existence after all. Maybe he was meant to bring happiness to a weak, dying girl.
"If you have no objection I will come for lunch next Sunday, as I used to," Erik told Mr. Stanton. "And then I will... ask Miss Amanda-Ann..."
Mr. Stanton smiled. "Don't wait that long, Erik," he said. "Let me call you by your first name from now on, since you will soon be my son-in-law. Don't wait that long. Come tomorrow. We do not know how much time my child still has. Let us work together to make whatever time is left to her as happy and full of light as possible!"
