A/N: Just a short chapter... I am having issues with continuing but I will post chapter 25 ASAP. Thank you for all your continued faith and support.
Arabella was quiet during their eventual return home. Erik had been more somber since the quadrille – and it was not hard to guess why. It was not as though it had been possible to ignore seeing him out on the dance floor with Christine. He had cut one of the most imposing figures in the entire room – and had looked all too perfect as the dark and grim Erlking next to the beautiful but entirely fierce Queen of the Night. It was also obvious that they had not spoken a word. Compared to their strange and silent partnership, Arabella felt that she and Nadir had seemed outright obnoxious with their constant conversation as they tried to distract one another from the forbidden encounter occurring only a few yards away.
"Letting go has never been one of Erik's strong suits." Nadir had muttered to her. "That man can be more stubborn than a pack of mules… that includes his heart."
Arabella had smirked and turned away from the slightly painful vision.
"Is that your way of reassuring me that he will be just as stubborn when it comes to loving me?"
"I think it will be much worse with you, Bella. You love him in return… That is no small thing - and that will bind him to you as no other love ever could."
They had been promising words. But Arabella was still thoughtful as Erik found her a few minutes later and asked if she was ready to go home. He put on a good show about pretending absolutely nothing had happened during her dance with the Daroga – but they all knew better. There was a slightly guilty hunch to his shoulders and the way he could only look at her askance. Clearly he had not simply been standing on the sidelines and observing.
Nadir did not let Erik escape unscathed from his behavior. He gave Erik such a scowl that even Bella had trouble holding still and not squirming as the two men exchanged a fierce handshake of farewell. They glared into each other's eyes, staring each other down as though challenging each other for dominance. But, because Erik was already quiet and a little slouched, he soon broke eye contact and ripped his hand from Nadir's.
"You do not come over often enough." He admitted to Nadir in a low mumble, although he seemed to be attempting a tone of nonchalance and merriment. "You have an open invitation extended to you whenever you care to come and visit. Bella likes to see you from time to time."
This seemed to completely throw Nadir off track. He blinked at Erik hard several times, his mouth hanging just slightly agape. Arabella was a little surprised… but not entirely. She could tell Erik was only trying to deflect Nadir's outrage. She glanced briefly between the two men and suddenly felt the urge to smile. Quickly she put a gloved hand up to her mouth as though wiping something from the sides of her mouth.
"Good night, Daroga." Erik concluded, taking Arabella's hand and very gently folding it around the crook of his elbow.
"Good night…" Nadir replied almost weakly; glancing at Arabella and offering a polite little bow.
"You truly are welcome whenever you please." Arabella assured. "Good evening, Daroga."
She and Erik remained quiet as they moved through the crowded areas of the Opera House. Even once they had found their way through Christine's mirror – so they would not have to go out into the cold again – Erik changed from offering Arabella his elbow to clasping her hand.
"You are furious with me." He guessed quietly as he led the way through the darkness until he could find where he often left a light source.
Arabella glanced up at the back of his head; unsure how to respond.
"You have every right to be." He admitted quickly. "I promised that I would not insert myself into Christine's life again; and I gave in to the temptation at the earliest opportunity. But I did not mean to give in … in that particular way, ma belle. I did not dance with her due to … those feelings. She was my … pupil… and my friend… and I …"
"…and you love her." Arabella finished for him, swallowing a small lump in her throat. There was no judgement… just … regret.
"I saw her being talked over and ignored … and I wanted her to feel like she belonged in the Opera House where her career is about to launch her into the sky!" Erik explained desperately. "It isn't about romantic love … or lust. She was my pupil! I care about whether she lives happily or not while under the roof I built!"
"You did not build the Opera House." Arabella protested. "You helped build it. It was not even your design, Erik. And saying you want her to be happy while under this roof means that you want her to be happy outside of this masquerade. Not that I blame you … but you are offering yourself an excuse to insert yourself again."
"Bella – I assure you that –"
"-Don't, Erik." Arabella sighed. "I'm not angry with you. Just … don't promise me that you will have nothing more to do with her. Do not make me promises you cannot keep."
Erik whipped around to face her, bending forward as though to make sure she could see his eyes through the helm on his head. He put down the lantern he'd lot only moments or before and gripped both of her hands.
"Bella, I swear-"
"-Don't promise!" she insisted, pulling her hands free without raising her voice. She isn't absolutely furious with him, so the action is not hard or rough. She simply resists his grip until he allows her to slip out from his grasp. "Just… do it. Show me."
She edged past him slowly; not trying to avoid touching him but simply wanting to move on. She could not go far without leaving the light offered by his lantern, so it is not long before Erik has hurried to keep up.
"I'm sorry I hurt you." He whispered sincerely.
A pang wrenched her chest a little, and Arabella closed her eyes with a sigh before reaching behind her until his hand could take hers once more.
"I know that." she admitted. "Let's… let us just go home. That bit of drink has gone to my head and I could use a long sit down."
Erik squeezed her hand.
"May I sing for you?" he murmured.
Arabella paused, glancing at him over her shoulder with a tentative smile. She knew perfectly well he was attempting a peace offering. Although he sang often around her, that did not mean he offered to sing strictly for her pleasure. In fact ... he had not done that even for Christine. They were used to his voice simply being what it was ... when he was not using it as a manipulative tool. To be offered it as a gift was rather touching in it's meager way.
"I would like that." she admitted. "Do I get to select the music?"
"You say that as though I have terrible taste in music." Erik chortled.
"Honestly, Erik … you and I have rather different opinions on what makes good Opera."
"I never said you had to agree with me on what makes good Opera." Erik protested. "It is not your fault I am better informed and thus that makes me a better judge of it. You must be the only person I have ever known who is frightened by Don Giovanni!"
Arabella turned around and pushed lightly at his chest with a cry of feigned outrage. Again Erik chortled, catching one of her wrists with one hand. His thumb stroked across her skin in a brief feather-light caress that he seemed entirely unconscious of. She knew that he had been only teasing in his prideful way; but couldn't help her reaction. Sometimes his sense of musical superiority could annoy even her - and she knew he deserved to have that pride in himself.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You raise your hand to your husband?"
"My husband could use a good thrashing." She laughed back. "Don Giovanni is terrifying!"
"If you say so…" Erik quickly released her and motioned ahead of them. "We are almost home, mira kom. Shall we?"
"I should make you sing 'Madamina, il catalogo é questo' for that." Arabella grumbles, but cannot help the chuckle that underlies it as she lets Erik continue pressing her forward.
Since he was the one to have brought up Don Giovanni, she might as well use an aria from that particular Opera. She knew the name of the aria because Erik had been using libretto's as part of her advancing reading and piano playing lessons.
"Mira kom, you could order me to sing Meyerbeer and I would perform it if you truly wanted me to. I could not guarantee, however, that it would not turn into a comic performance."
"Well, I'll consider that as proper punishment next time you wound my pride."