Chapter Twenty-Eight: Racing Against The Clock
Inside the castle, Erik was having similar thoughts.
Time was running out and he was not even remotely sure that things would be all right.
And clearly he wasn't the only one.
While he had hoped to get ready for that evening alone, an audience had gathered - an audience with an opinion.
"This is it, Your Grace!" Madame Giry spoke up as she entered the West Wing.
Erik was in the large bathroom, immersed in a huge tub of soapy hot water.
"Now or never."
"The clock is ticking," Firmin said gravely.
"The rose only has four petals left," André added seriously - for once.
"Which means tonight...you must tell her how you feel!"
Erik sighed.
He knew that his staff was just trying to help.
Nothing they were saying was a surprise.
He knew time was running out.
He knew that night was important.
He knew Christine was his only chance - the castle's only chance.
Hearing it out loud did nothing to ease his growing anxiety.
And he did not care to admit just how anxious he was about the upcoming evening.
He had made an offhanded comment to Christine about how beautiful the ballroom looked after all her hard work, and how they should celebrate it with a dance.
He'd never thought she would say yes!
Erik signaled the others to give him a moment of privacy and finished his bath.
A curtain had been drawn in front of the tub.
He stood and wrapped a towel around his waist.
Finally, he spoke.
"She will never love me, André."
"Don't worry, Master!" André reassured him cheerfully. "She is the one, I know it!"
"There is no one!" Erik ground out between clenched teeth.
He pulled back the curtain and stepped into the light provided by André's candles.
"Look at me!"
His golden eyes were filled with resignation and defeat.
"She deserves so much more..."
To the servants' credit, they didn't even cringe on seing Erik in all his skeletal glory.
Instead, Madame Giry spoke up.
"You care for her, don't you?"
Erik nodded.
He did care for Christine, more than he ever would have thought possible.
The past few days had only solidified those feelings.
But he was no fool.
While he might have come to care for her, and she might have started to enjoy his company, that did not mean she loved him.
He was still her captor, after all.
No matter how well they got along, he was still her captor and that wasn't going to change.
Unless, of course, she did, somehow, love him, but that was highly unlikely.
André saw the doubt and fear in his master's eyes, but forged ahead, propelled by his nod.
"Well then, woo her with beautiful music and romantic candlelight..."
"Yes," Fleurette chimed in, "and when the moment is right, just right..."
Erik frowned in confusion.
"But how will I know?"
Firmin, who until that point had been purposely keeping himself out of the conversation, cleared his throat.
"In my experience," he said, "you will feel slightly nauseous."
André shot him a glare, effectively silencing the clock.
"Don't fret, master," he soothed, turning back to Erik.
"You'll do fine. The problem was that until now, the girl could not see the real you."
"No," Madame Giry said harshly.
"The problem was...she could."
Instantly, the room grew silent.
Tension filled the air as the staff turned and looked at the teapot.
Some, like André, hoped to see a glint of humor in her eyes.
Others, like Firmin, were unsurprised by her sudden announcement.
Either way, everyone's attention finally turned to Erik, who they watched with wide eyes as Madame Giry went on.
"For fifteen years," she continued, "we have hoped against hope that this curse would make you a better man.
But you have remained angry and selfish and cruel, and we are all running out of time.
And there is one more thing that your servants have been too afraid to tell you."
"What?" Erik asked.
He was surprised to discover that he feared her answer.
Was she going to tell him exactly how hated he was?
Was she going to tell him just how miserable they had been, and for how long?
Was it possible that she was going to find a way to make him feel even worse than he already did?
"We love you," Madame Giry said simply, and Erik nearly staggered backwards in shock.
Of all the things he had imagined she might say...
The teapot went on.
"Until now, we have loved you in spite of how you were.
But ever since that girl arrived, we love you because of it."
Around her, the servants nodded in agreement.
"So stop being a coward and tell her how you feel!" she snapped.
"And if you don't, I can promise that you'll be drinking cold tea for the rest of your life..."
"In the dark..." André added.
"Covered in dust..." Fleurette chimed in.
"Dark as a moonless night and very, very dusty..." both André and Fleurette said together.
In silence, the staff looked up at Erik and waited for his response.
And then Erik smiled.
Slowly at first, it spread across his face until it took over.
And it wasn't the proud, arrogant smirk he had worn for so long, either.
It was the smile of a man who finally felt hope.
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