Author's Note:
Dear Readers,
Well, here we go again! Another installment! I trust all of you are enjoying this! I would love to hear more reviews. Tell me what you like, what you hate, what you wish was different, anything really. Also, I'm really curious to see if any of you have any ideas where I'm going with this. You may give me an idea because honestly, other than for one thing I have been planning since the very beginning...I really don't know. This story has been just writing itself.
If you do give me a new idea that I end up using, I will be sure to recognize you if I can.
sarahandmarquis
Chapter 12:
Annoying as it was, Candela hardly believed the Ghost's final statement was just that, final. He would need something more than his music when the second woman in his life abandoned him for another. She would make sure he was set for life before she would even consider marrying the Marquis as that was no doubt his intention.
She would secure the Phantom and then herself.
Tugging lightly on her gloves, she twisted her fingers together and watched as a puff of air turned to fog in front of her mouth. That one though lingering in her mind, she boldly strolled up one of the two sprawling staircases of the Paris Opera House and in through one of the large doors.
Presented with her own lack of familiarity with the massive structure, she consulted the first person she found, a bubbly ballet rat.
"Pardon me, would you direct me to the managers' office, please?" In her false persona as a middle-class woman, Candela garnered respect from those of the lower classes, and the ballet girl was no exception.
"Of course, Mademoiselle. Follow me!" The girl's blond curls danced as she hopped her way down a hall, lighter on her feet than Candela could ever wish to be. The thought brought a touch of amusement to the Spaniard's face as she hurried after the light foot girl. After several passageways and even a set of stairs, the ballerina came to a stop before a simple door and softly knocked on the wood.
"Monsieur Firmin. Monsieur Andre. A lady to see you." At the quiet call of "come in", the girl opened the door and stepped back to allow Candela inside the plain offices of the managers. Two desks sat against opposite walls, one covered in papers, scores, and books while the other was nearly bare save for a pitcher of water and a glass. The whole room appeared to be in a state of packing as several boxes lay around and the walls were only half decorated, only those odds and ends which would remain when they left still hanging on the walls.
Two men stood near the solitary window and turned to face her when she walked through the door, holding her head high.
"Good afternoon, Señors." She addressed them politely, giving each of them a friendly smile. "I have come to ask you about your advertisement in the paper." Each of them looked confused and then surprised in turn and, before addressing her, spoke to the girl behind them,
"Thank you, Ms. Giry. You may go." The blond bobbed her head and pranced away, closing the door behind her.
"Now, Mademoiselle, I am Monsieur Firmin and this is my co-manager, Monsieur Andre and you have come about the position of manager?" Candela nodded.
"Yes, I have."
"You! A woman!" They joined together in a hearty laugh and the sound only hushed at her deep frown.
"Very comical." Candela remarked dryly, removing her gloves and tucking them into her reticule as the last chuckles slowly died away, leaving merely insulting smiles. When they were quiet enough for her to speak and not yell, she continued, "I have no come for myself but for a friend who is currently unavailable but might consider the position. Would you be willing to answer some of my questions?"
Apparently reconciled with talking some form of business with a woman, they showed her into the alcove with a seating area and nodded.
"Yes, please, Mademoiselle…?" Andre trailed off, hoping for her to fill in her name.
"Mademoiselle Candela de la Vega." For a scant moment, they glanced at each other and one of them tugged at his beard.
"Your name is familiar. Are you in the papers at all?"
"The Marquis de Bonnaire is my suitor." While it didn't set well with her to use her position to acquire respect, she well knew it wouldn't be the last time she would do this due to her chosen path. Her whole life she would use her title to further herself in the eyes of others. I might as well become accustomed to it now. This is my future.
"Ah! Yes, that's it. The papers are always talking about you and the Marquis. I haven't had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the gentleman but I had heard he is an affluent man. Relative of the Comte de Chagny, if I am not much mistaken.
"Not relative. He was a friend of the late Comte. They're families were quite close." Candela corrected before returning to the subject at hand. "About the management position, I was curious as to why the two of you were turning it over to someone else."
"Well, you see… um…uh…well…" Firmin muttered, looking down at the floor, faltering as he tried to answer her question.
"To be honest, it's all the Phantom's fault!" Candela's eyebrows visibly raised in shock.
"I thought the Phantom's leaving would have been a matter of rejoicing. Am I mistaken?"
"No, if you're referring to the first few months. We all thought it was wonderful." Firmin chimed in as he looked up at her through tired eyes. "It was the best thing ever, until the Opera began to fall apart. The ballet was awful. The cast wouldn't behave." She was fairly confident that she heard a muttered "artists" from Andre but chose to ignore it as Firmin continued on, "Apparently, the stage workers only had respect for the Phantom and not for the stage manager. Once he was gone, they started acting quite unruly. In short, the Paris Opera has become a laughing stock."
"I attended a performance here a month or so ago and I thought it was nice." Candela put in, trying to be kind.
"Pardon me, Mademoiselle, but you're not the critics." Andre added before saying, "We found as many of the notes as Monsieurs Poligny and Debienne had left us but even they fail when the company has no incentive to keep everything to the level of perfection that was before."
"In short, we had no other choice but the turn it over to someone new. The phantom is dead and we are regretting ever disobeying him."
After vacillating a few times between telling or not telling, Candela quietly spoke up with a suggestion,
"What if the Opera Ghost was still alive?" Both men stared at her for several moments before laughing again.
"He can't be! The Ghost lived to critique our work. He wouldn't disappear for a year without a single word. Not after watching his beloved Opera House fall into such a state."
"Even the most devoted of men can lose their will to continue. He lost the Comtesse de Chagny and that would be a blow to any man. But, let us be hypothetical for a moment. What if he were to be a live and still willing to bring the Opera back into proper shape? You would listen to him, gladly? You would give him his salary as he was used to and the proper respect a king should have in his kingdom?"
"More than gladly! Joyously! The Opera is a good living, far better than scrap metal. What is twenty thousand francs a month when we could make millions!" Firmin happily explained. "If only it were true!"
Licking her lips slowly, Candela decided to bring them into her confidence, believing these men were trustworthy and perhaps, had learned their lesson from a year's worth of troubles. If her theory worked, Erik would be more inclined to agree. She wouldn't have to worry about him when she left.
"Monsieurs, anything I say from now until the moment I leave, isn't to leave this room, let alone get out to the newspapers. Am I understood? Do you as gentleman promise on your mothers' souls that you won't betray me?"
Both hesitated for a split second before nodding simultaneously.
"Your words shall not be carried from this room in anyway at all."
"Excellent." Taking a deep breath, Candela plunged, "The Phantom of the Opera is quite alive. I have the pleasure of being acquainted with him for some time." Not stopping to pay any attention to their aghast facial expressions, she continued, "When I saw the notice in the paper, I tried to convince him to take over as manager but he refused, not doubt because of a lack of desire to show his face around Paris. And, for good reason. Now, if he could retake the mantel of his former persona and you two were to remain as faces to the Opera, perhaps it could be saved?"
For several moments, she worried that she might have given the two middle-aged gentleman heart attacks and they had passed away before her very eyes. Several minutes had passed before Andre spoke up,
"If you would speak to him, we would be forever in your debt, Mademoiselle. He will be welcomed back into the Opera House with open arms by us." Sincerity was plastered all over his face and written his eyes, leaving Candela with a comfortable feeling in the pits of her stomach.
"I shall speak with him." Gathering her reticule, she rose to her feet and stepped towards the door. "Remember, gentleman, not a word to anyone. We both has reputations to keep up." Leaving them with a cool smile and budding hope, she breezed from the room, retracing her steps back to the doors of the Opera and around the corner to the hidden door.
After sliding inside and clicking it closed, she lit the lantern and walked down into the bowels of the Opera cellars, a knot of nervousness growing slowly.
The Phantom wouldn't be too happy about her comments to the managers, men whom he still disliked. While she never feared his temper, she loathed to cause the fiery outbursts. A man of his age and health couldn't afford too many of them to her way of thinking and she didn't wish the Phantom to leave the world any time soon.
Arriving at the wharf, she untied the gondola and picked up the pole. Stepping into the boat, she watched the ripples flow away from the keel into her inky surroundings. Chuckling quietly to herself, she dipped the pole into the lake and pushed hard against the gravel bottom, propelling herself speedily across the lake.
Upon reaching the other side and tying up the gondola, she hurried into the house, shedding her cloak and reticule before knocking on Erik's door.
"Señor Phantom? Are you there? I need to speak with you." Listening carefully, she heard the light scrap of the organ bench scooting backwards and the almost silent tap of dress shoes against stone floors. The door opened and the Phantom peered down at her.
He appeared calm and relaxed, even, if she dared think such a thing, in a good mood!
What an excellent time to inform him of her errand.
Putting on her pleasantest smile, Candela stepped back and said,
"Good afternoon. Do you have a moment to talk, Señor?" The Phantom nodded and stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him.
"Yes, Erik does. His compositions aren't going well so a break would be agreeable." Following her into the sitting room, Erik took a seat in his chair and watched his little Spanish maid scuttling around, fixing a pot of Russian tea for them before their "talk". Perhaps he should have been more concerned about her desire for him to be comfortable before they had the conversation she had in mind, but the thought didn't cross his mind as he admired her.
She was a fascinating little thing.
When the last teacup was in place and the last drop of tea poured and properly flavored, Candela settled onto the settee and stirred her tea.
"Señor Phantom, remember yesterday when I asked if you would be willing to become the manager of the Opera House?" The distinct frown that immediately crossed his face was a sufficient answer so she continued, "Well, I spoke with Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin about the position and I learned why they are giving it up."
"Why?" Erik demanded, a touch curious as to their reasons for leaving. He would have thought that his absence would have encouraged them to stay for more than driving them away.
"As it turns out, the Opera House has been going down steadily since your departure last year. Apparently, an Opera House is nothing without its Phantom."
"Erik warned those fools what would happen if they didn't take his advice!" Erik snarled, tossing his free hand into the air with a groan. Those managers had never been the brightest parts of his Opera House.
"No! Señor, it isn't that they didn't take your advice." Candela quickly corrected. "It was that you weren't there to enforce it."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Candela."
"All the respect and fear in the Opera House was directed towards you, as the Phantom of the Opera, and none to the managers. When you left, there was no one there with any authority." After pausing for a sip of her tea and to gauge the Phantom's response to her statement, Candela decided to inform him of the steps she had taken.
"I inquired if they would give you the respect you demanded if you were to return, and they said they would. They even promised your salary back, all twenty thousand francs of it." Gold eyes peered out at her from behind the porcelain and she swallowed.
"I told them you were still alive and that I would ask if you would return. Will you, Señor? Wouldn't it be nice? You'd be everything you were back during your zenith." Hopefully, she glanced upward at him, reading only in his expression dull anger.
"You told them I was still alive?" He carefully kept his wrath under control and Candela relaxed. this she could handle.
"Yes, I did." A bold lilt entered her voice as she lifted her chin. "I did tell them. Now, will you accept their offer or continue to wallow here in self-pity and loneliness? This is no life for a genius like yourself. You should be up there, teaching those annoying mortals exactly what they're missing. What good is knowledge if it isn't shared?"
"You betrayed Erik." He muttered, appearing to ignore her comments.
"For you own good. You can't languish down here forever."
"What if Erik wants to?" He snapped, rising to his feet and trying to gain dominance with his sheer height. Candela brushed it off, now used to his tactics.
"You don't want to. You're just afraid of going back up there. You're the Phantom of the Opera; it is about time you got off your derriere and did something. A year long holiday is more than enough." Standing as well, she tossed a lock of black hair behind her shoulder and walked up to him, challenging him to defy her.
"You're a fool!" Erik snapped as he stormed from the room, the stings of betrayal still biting his heart. Retreating to his room, he banged away his emotions onto the organ, the monstrosity having never failed him before.
After several hours, he paused, glancing at his fingers, several cracked and one oozing blood.
Now with a clear head, he had to put some credence in his maid's comments. She was right. He was afraid to go back up, to return to the world of men and expose his ideas for all to see. But, then, he reasoned, he had lost his heart and nearly his life before. What could mortals throw at him that was any worse?
It would be so nice to return to the persona he had shed a year ago.
The more he thought about it, the more he warmed to it to the point where a hideous cackle came from him.
He would scare the ballet rats again.
He would reign in his kingdom once more.
The Phantom of the Opera would come back…to stay.