Chapter 20

Philippe Georges Marie, Comte de Chagny.

His name rang through the brain repeatedly as time stood still around her. The empty shadow that had always served as her father took on a shape, a perfectly defined shape.

"How?" She gasped out, groping about her for a moment as she tumbled into a chair. While she had always known that her father had been a nobleman, she had never imagined one so close to her.

"Twenty years ago, Philippe and I were traveling through Spain on a world trip, enjoying our resent wealth and freedom. We passed through the Isla and met your mother." Candela stared at him, desperate to hear every word from the man before her, head bowed and seemingly lost in his memories.

"I am not ashamed to say I loved her and would have happily married her. But, I was a plain sort of gentleman and Philippe was a charmer. I am not surprised she fell for him. I know he didn't give her his real name, probably explaining why she never told you. We left after a month, their relationship lasting no more than a few weeks, and he never knew he left her with a child." He sighed and glanced towards her. "He would have at least cared for her had he known. He might have hidden you but he wouldn't have abandoned you."

Shock had settled into the maid as she sat in her seat, hands clasp in her lap. Honestly, she didn't know what to think.

"Did he take me in because I looked like my mother?" She asked, peering up at the Marquis who, at that moment, appeared far older than his forty years.

"It is possible, but I can't be sure. You have almost no resemblance to him. Except perhaps for the nose. You do have the de Chagny nose." Candela instantly covered her face with a hand and ducked her head. Should she be proud of that fact? Should she be proud of her noble blood? It wouldn't change her life at all. She would return to beneath the Opera House and continue her position as maid.

"Thank you." Rising to her feet, she fiddled with her mask before tying it back onto her face. "I really should be going." I need time. She thought to herself as she headed towards the door.

"Wait!" He called out for the second time that evening. "You're just leaving?"

"I don't see why not." She paused and turned to face him. "This news is welcome and I am glad to know that I have a name for my father but it won't affect my life at all."

"Why not?" Jules narrowed his eyes in confusion and reached a hand towards her. "You are the true heiress to the de Chagny fortune! Don't you want to claim it?" Pursing her lips for a moment in thought, Candela shook her head.

"No, I don't. The Comte and Christine deserve it. I won't take it away from them. What need have I of money? I earn a delightful little sum, working for Senor Erik. I don't need to take from my uncle and aunt."

"Senor Erik? Oh, you did mention you work at the Opera House?" Apparently, in his state of shock and surprise, he hadn't heard her clearly when she spoke of her employment with the Opera Ghost. Perhaps it was a good thing. He wouldn't have to worry about her.

"Yes, I do. He's the behind the scene's manager of the Opera House. I serve as his maid. He pays me well. Jules, I want you to forget me." He began to shake his head when she held up her hand. "Forget. I could never have married you, especially not after this." It felt inappropriate to marry a man who had loved her mother. The feeling didn't set well with her. "I want you to find a girl of decent breeding with a fine pedigree who loves you as much as you loved her. I shall be perfectly happy."

"Can't we at least stay in contact?" He begged, leaning forward and trying to grasp her hands in his. She pulled them away and shook her head.

"No. It is best we break all contact. I shall remain friends with Reine but I'm afraid we must never see each other again. How else will you forget me?"

"I don't want to forget you."

"You must." With final parting words, she breezed from the room, leaving him standing in the middle of it, dejected. "You will recover quickly enough, I can imagine." She whispered to herself as she escaped through the swirling group of partiers, in search of Nadir.

After some little searching, she found him and Reine, deep in conversation on something drowned out by the music and chatter about them. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched two people she cared for very much forging a bond.

"Apparently, the music did the trick." She murmured to herself before flitting towards the doors, intent on leaving the party. After gathering her things from the footman, she walked out into the cold of the night, turning towards the Opera House before stopping on the sidewalk.

As she looked up, she noted the snow had nearly stopped and the moon was shining brightly through the clouds.

"I suppose I should visit." She whispered, tugging her cloak tighter around her. "Yes, I will." Turning towards the street, she called out loudly, "Cab!" A hansom pulled to a stop next to her and she hopped inside,

"Père Lachaise Cemetery. As quickly as you can, please."

E-OC

How many months had it been since he had touched morphine?

He wasn't sure anymore as he turned the syringe over in his head, admiring the liquid in the glass tube. Liquid pleasure at his fingertips. When Christine had left him, he hadn't cared if his addiction killed him. The sudden detoxification almost had.

Then she had arrived. Stubborn, determined to save his life.

A little ball of fire that had burned her way into his life and remained there, keeping him warm and alive. Her spirit, her vitality had spilled over to him, leaving him without a need for the drug.

But, that had changed.

She was a courted lady. The Marquis was a fine man who would marry her as soon as he could. He loved her and would make sure she wanted for nothing. Despite her declaration of preference, he knew she would leave. She had a sensible head on her shoulders.

Erik loved her and would let her go.

Christine was smart! Oh, she was smart! He hadn't allowed himself to even think it until she had said it so bluntly. How could he not love her? Candela was so sweet, so kind to him. His hands hadn't scarred due to her kind treatment.

She'd let him cry on her lap. She had stroked his hair, what little there was, and treated him with such gentleness. His little Spanish fireball.

Setting the syringe aside, he picked up his violin and began to softly play. He would hide it. He wouldn't show that he loved her. She need never know that a monster wanted nothing more than for her to never leave him. It would be so simple.

The Marquis would be proposing soon.

Firing her wouldn't do any harm, not to her at least.

She would leave.

He would die.

Simple.

Smiling, he relaxed into the music. Yes, the simple answer was always the best.

E-OC

The mausoleum stood against the moon, dark and foreboding. A small covered porch had been built into the granite structure, providing a place for those who wished to sit and contemplate the dead, or the living. Stepping up the step, she paused before the doors and read the name over them.

"de Chagny." On the door posts the names of the members of the mausoleum were carved, the bottom of the list bearing the name of her father.

"Philippe Georges Marie, Comte de Chagny." Sitting down on a little bench, she laid her head against the cold stone, grateful for the break in the wind. "You never knew I existed, did you? I wonder how it might have been different if you had. I wonder if my mother might not have died. You could have paid for a good doctor."

Running her fingers over the etched letters, she frowned.

"I can't say I hate you. I should, but I don't. You took care of me, in a way. I appreciate the job you gave me. If it weren't for you, I'd have never met the Phantom." Curling her feet against her, she smoothed the satin over her knees and chuckled quietly. "He's completely insane, but, then again I am too. I stay with him willingly and turn down a perfectly good offer of marriage because I can't stomach the thought of it."

Closing her eyes, she brought both their faces to her mind, comparing the two.

"I can't leave him." She whispered. "I can't ever leave him." The wind whispered around her, changing direction and fluttering her dress. "What do you think…father?" She asked, unsure if she could refer to the dead man as such. It seemed so…improper.

The wind blew about her and she shivered, trembling in the cold.

The dead didn't answer the questions of the living and her mind reminded her of the fact repeatedly as she listened to the howling wind and the stone of the mausoleum.

"Of course, I know you're not going to talk. If you did, I'd know I was mad as Madre always told me I was. Perhaps worse…" Once more she laughed to herself. "After all, a year and a half beneath an Opera House with a man who thinks he's a ghost can mess with one's psyche.

"You probably wouldn't like him." She remarked casually. "He isn't your sort of person. You were always about money and women. He loves music…music and Christine de Chagny. I suppose I can't blame him for liking my…aunt? After all, she is pretty and her voice is nice enough but, what is there in her mind?

"The Comte loves her dearly, I'm sure you knew that, but what is there to love about her other than those looks? She's as flighty and empty-headed. What is the draw that she holds over men?" Candela fiddled with her dress before frowning deeply.

"Why does it matter to me?" The thought provoking question took away her casual air about the whole matter and replaced with insecurity.

Why did it matter to her?

Why did it matter if Christine still held a draw over the Phantom? Why did it matter so much?

"You've got be jesting, mind." Candela declared, looking upward at the sky. "Please tell me you are." The wind merely whistled around her.

"I can't be in love with him!" The wind kept howling and Candela dropped her head into her hands.

"I can't! It would never work. Not even a little. I'm a friend, if that. And, he's my employer. It would be terribly improper." Unsure of how to fix the quandary she found herself in, she tugged her cloak closer and stepped away from the mausoleum, determining to return later.

Talking to the dead appeared to be helpful.

Hailing another cab for herself, she ordered the driver to take her home to the Opera House.

E-OC

As her boat scraped on the gravel shore, she hopped out and moored it securely against a post. Soft piano music floated from the house down to the dark beach and left a smile dancing on her face. The door clicked open and she breezed into the living room, smiling at the dark man moving with the music he played.

"Good evening, Senor." He lowered the bow from the strings and turned to face her. She saw tension building in his tight shoulders.

"Ah, you're home early. The party wasn't to your liking?" He inquired, setting the violin aside on the cover of the piano.

"It was nice enough but I didn't see any reason to stay any longer." How would she confess to him whose daughter she was? She knew this man had inadvertently murdered her father, not something she held against him, but she also knew how much he hated that family.

How would he react to knowing his maid was a de Chagny?

"Erik is sorry to hear that." He remarked, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor.

"Did you find the meal I prepared?" Candela asked, setting aside her gloves, cloak and mask, before moving over to the fire and warming her hands. Until she had hit the warmth of the underground home, she hadn't realized how deep the cold had seeped.

"Yes, it was very good. Thank you." He shifted from one foot to another. Biting her tongue, Candela continued to warm herself.

"Candela…um…Erik wishes to speak with you for a moment. If that is not inconvenient?"

"Not at all." She replied, frowning at the tone of his voice. "I'll go change into something more comfortable and be right back." Rubbing her hands together one last time, she flittered off to her room and shed the red satin gown and donned a thick house coat to cover her modesty.

Before returning to the warmly lit living room, she prepared some tea, declaring to herself that talks always went better when both parties were sated with tea. As she breezed into the room, she noticed the Phantom's stiff posture as he braced himself against the mantel piece and stared into the fire.

"Tea, Senor." She announced as she set the tray down and poured two cups, one with sugar and cream and the other black. How he enduring the Russian concoction without sugar was a mystery to her.

"Thank you." He muttered as he turned towards her and absconded with the tea cup to his chair and curled himself into it as was he wont. For several minutes, only the fire disturbed the silences of the evening coupled with the occasional clicking of china.

"You wished to speak with me?" She initiated.

"Yes…" He trailed off for a moment. "Erik has been thinking, this evening, and concluded several things." He set his cup aside and frowned deeply, barely visible beneath the almost full-face mask he currently wore.

"What things?" She asked, clicking her cup against the saucer before pouring herself another cup.

"It is Erik's wish for you to find another position." The tea sloshed in the cup as she almost dropped the cup onto the fancy Persian rugs.

"Find another position?" She quickly set the cup of tea down and stared at him, incredulous. "Have I done something to displease you? Why are you releasing me?" Terror filled her. Would she be torn so quickly from the man she loved? What had she done?

"You've done nothing!" He snapped, hurling his empty tea cup against the wall. "Erik just wants you to leave. Now. Get out. Don't come back. He doesn't need or want you anymore."

"But…" She trailed off, unable to account for his sudden rejection.

"No 'buts', fool. Get out! Get out before I throw you out! You've been nothing but a nuisance to Erik from the moment you trespassed in his home. He won't endure your offending presence for another moment." His golden eyes burned fiercely, tension and power moving through his coiled body. The once calm gentleman had turned into his alias.

Bonding to her feet, Candela slammed her cup down against the tray and flicked her head over her shoulder.

"Well, if that's how you feel, I'll be glad to find another position. Enjoy life without me." She locked away the sting in her heart and glided from the room, returning to her bedroom and beginning to pack.

While muttering under her breath, she stuffed her few dresses, unmentionables, and odds and ends into a carpet bag. Dressing herself in her warmest dress, she tucked away all the jewelry and paused when she found the silver comb the Phantom had given her.

"I shouldn't keep it." She whispered and laid it on her dressing table. "It was never mine." Locking her jaw, she fought the tears that were threatening now that her anger had worn off. "I'm sure Nadir will take me in for a few days until I can find another position."

Brushing away a lone tear that dared to escape, she gathered her bags and stepped into the hall, noting the pipe organ's roar from inside the Phantom's room.

"Good luck and good riddance." She whispered, hoping her anger covered her hurt as she left his house for the last time.

E-OC

The slamming door echoed through the house and he heard it even above the pipe organ, the heart-rending sound drowning every other sound.

"You're better off hating me." He whispered, turning back to his music. "So much better off."

His sobs went unheard.

E-OC

"Darius, is Nadir home?" Candela asked as she gave the servant, dressed in nothing but his dressing gown, a watery smile.

"He's still at the party, Ms. Candela. Do come in though. What's going on?" THe Persian servant stepped back, allowing the girl with her carpet bag to walk into the house and shed her cloak.

"I don't know, Darius. But, the Phantom has released me from my position as his housekeeper and kicked me out of the house. Do you…do you think I might be able to stay here for the night? I don't think I can find any other place on so short a notice."

"Oh! Of course, you can. Follow me. I'll take you to the spare bedroom. I'm sure my master will be happy to let you stay here until you can find another place." Darius smiled at her and led her past the stairs to a small door and into a small, sparsely decorated room.

"I am sorry it isn't very much more than a warm bed. We don't usually have company to stay in it."

"Thinking nothing of it, Darius. I shall be comfortable." She tossed her bag onto the bed and nearly collapsed beside it. leaning down, she unlaced her shoes and massaged her feet, regretting her choice to walk all the way to Nadir's in shoes never meant for such exercise.

"Are you hungry? I can warm some soup and make some tea."

"I don't want to be an inconvenience –" Candela began but he waved her objections away.

"Not an inconvenience at all. If you wish to warm up in the parlor, I will fix you something to eat. You look pale and frozen." He disappeared from the doorway and after finding her slippers, Candela left her room and walked to the parlor, choosing the seat closest to the fire.

A little bit later, Darius entered, bearing a full tray, laden with tea, a bowl of steaming minestrone soup and plate of soup crackers.

"Here." He handed her the tray. "Eat something."

"Do you know when Nadir will be back?" She asked as she scooped some soup into the spoon and blew on it to cool it.

"No, though if I were to guess I would say well after midnight."

"And, it's only eleven." Sighing, Candela took a bite of the soup and closed her eyes for a moment, replaying the ruined evening in her mind.

"Forgive me if I am being too bold but what happened? You said something about Master Erik throwing you out?"

"Yes, he did. I went the party this evening where the Marquis proposed and I received some surprising news. I returned home and Senor Phantom wished to speak with me. I didn't think too much of it. He was tense but I never imagined it involved me. I changed out of my fancy dress so we could talk comfortably and returned to the living room with tea, ready for our discussion.

"I asked him what was wrong and he informed I was released from his services and when I questioned why, he lost his temper. I lost mine as well and we parted in a huff. I don't know what was going on. I really don't." Darius reached out and patted her shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You can stay here until your wedding with the Marquis. It'll work out."

"I'm not marrying him. I rejected him." Darius's eyes widened and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Forgive me jumping to conclusions. But, I was under the impression you would marry him if he had asked."

"I was prepared to until a few weeks ago when I decided I couldn't leave the Phantom. Oh, Darius, I'm in love with him and he never wants to see me again." Hanging her head, she set her soup aside, wrapping her arms about her torso.

"It'll look better in the morning." The servant declared and glanced towards the food. She isn't going to eat anything more. "Come on, why don't you get some sleep? We'll consider the problem in the morning. You are exhausted." Helping her to her feet, he guided the emotionally drained girl back to her bedroom and lit a fire while she changed behind a screen.

"Darius, please let Nadir know when he gets home." The exhausted Spaniard whispered from her place under the heavy covers.

"I'll be sure to." He patted her shoulder and blew out the lights, leaving the girl to rest.

E-OC

Nadir unlocked the door and stepped into the entryway, hanging up his coat before he noticed the presence of a cloak hanging suspiciously.

"Candela?" He called out, curious as to the presence of the girl. Both he and Reine had wondered at the absence of her and the Marquis but the footman had assured him that she left early. What had happened to drive her here?

He prayed that Erik hadn't been an idiot over her marrying the Marquis.

"Candela?" He called once more, poking his head into the parlor and finding it empty. Frowning, he descended into the kitchen and found Darius sitting alone at the kitchen table, frowning as well and sipping a cup of tea.

"Darius, what's going on? Why is Candela's cloak here?" The Persian servant sighed and looked up at his master.

"Master Erik has been a fool again." Nadir groaned and slapped his hand against his forehead.

"Not again?" He pealed of the plain black mask and tossed it onto the table. "What has he done now?" Nadir asked he poured himself a cup of tea.

"He has released Candela from his services and instructed her never to return." Nadir dropped his head and rubbed his temples in frustration.

"That ass…" He whispered. "How is she taking it?"

"Not particularly well, I'm afraid. I put her in the spare bedroom. She was exhausted when she arrived, emotionally and physically."

"She can stay here until the marriage." Nadir determined, more than happy to help the victim of Erik's pure stupidity.

"She's not marrying the Marquis." Darius declared, a smile creasing his face. "She told me herself." Nadir arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"She's not?"

"No, and, I think she didn't really mean to say this, she told me that she is in love with Master Erik." Nadir slammed his fist against the table and muttered something unrepeatable under his breath.

"The fool! He's getting choice words from me, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, sir?" Nadir nodded.

"Yes, tomorrow. We'll let her rest and give Erik a few hours to see the error of his ways. He'll change his mind soon enough and come dragging his ungrateful hide back to her. If he doesn't, I'll drag him back myself."

"An excellent idea, sir. If you need any assistance, I'm willing to help."

"You take care of Candela. We'll sort this mess out somehow."

.

.

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

I just wanted to say how sorry I am I didn't get this up sooner. I took a little break from writing much of anything serious until now. I just needed a week off to gather my thoughts. I wasn't sure where I was going to go after the big reveal but I think I do now. And, we'll be wrapping up soon with a neat little conclusion. I don't believe in dragging endings out too much.

Please review and let me know what you think! I read every one of them!

sarahandmarquis