The Perfect Solution
An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2007
DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.
useless titles
i worry you
i worry me
will i be
the best you see
mother
father
all around
useless titles
on the ground
you worry you
you worry me
will i run
far from thee
sweetheart
lover
under me
useless titles
i hope to be
Nyasia A. Maire – 2007
Chapter Forty-Seven – Useless Titles
"I think it is past time for us to retire to our bedchamber, mon amour." She whispered huskily.
Erik nodded shakily. The two rose from their places before the hearth. Christine gave out a giggle and dashed out the door. Stunned, Erik stood there for a moment until he heard Christine's voice call to him from out in the hall.
"Erik? The bed is awfully cold. I need you to come and help me warm it."
And, like Pavlov's dog, the man salivated and rushed to follow the sound of his wife's voice.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Hours later, Erik lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, his wife's sleeping body draped and cuddled atop his chest. The faint scent of their earlier lovemaking still hung in the air around them.
"I shall never know what I have done to deserve this, but merci, mon Seigneur, merci beaucoup."
He ran a gentle hand through his wife's wild mass of curls, brushing a few errant strands from her face. Smiling, he placed a soft kiss upon her forehead, which caused her to stir slightly.
"Erik?" She mumbled.
"Hmmm?"
"Erik?"
Her voice lowered an octave as her hand descended down his chest. She paused as she encountered the light dusting of coarse curls that began just below his navel before following it to the obvious object of her desire. His manhood lay nestled in the thick patch of hair at his groin. He moaned as her hands closed around his partially aroused member and firmly gripped it. She began to stroke him steadily and he gasped as his hips thrust involuntarily forward in excitement. He arched his eyebrow, narrowed his eyes and turned to look into her eyes with a smirk.
"Christine! Again?"
She gave him no response, but a throaty chuckle as she released him. He groaned, thinking that she meant to tease him. Instead, she firmly gripped his arms and pulled him atop her. She ran a string of wet kisses up the column of his neck until her hungry mouth met his. Eagerly, she joined their lips and ran a questing tongue over his lower lip seeking entrance. He happily deepened their kiss and allowed his hands to join hers in their renewed explorations of one another's bodies.
He paused only for a moment.
"Christine?"
"Oui, mon amour."
"Je t'aime, ma chéri. Je t'aime."
She smiled and pulled him back to press her swollen lips against his.
"I love it when she smiles while we kiss. It feels like a little bit of heaven."
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Now, tell me again … why do we need to go to this luncheon today? I mean … after all, Raoul is a grown man. He is going to get married for music's sake! They are his parents after all."
Erik walked to stand behind Christine as she sat before her vanity. He watched in awe as she twisted her hair and deftly secured it into a loose chignon. Then she smiled at her reflection as she pulled a few odd strands to hang free. She gave Erik a mock frown before rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
"Erik! He is your best friend and he is one of my oldest friends as well. He asked us to be there today, to stand with him and provide him with support. In light of his parents' disapproval of his decision to marry Meg, he needs all the friendly faces there he can muster. It is the least you can do, seeing as he asked you to be his best man. Meg asked me to be her matron of honor and she said that we make a most handsome couple. I do believe she is correct."
She inspected their image in the mirror before turning to face Erik. She caught him shaking his head.
"What? Do you not think we are a striking pair?"
Erik noticed a slightly dangerous glint in her eye and decided not to challenge his wife's opinion.
"Oui, ma chéri. Indeed. I am the most fortunate man in Paris to have such a radiantly beautiful creature as you on my arm."
He answered quite truthfully.
"Flatterer!" She muttered.
"Perhaps, but it is the truth."
He met her gaze with his own, his mouth wearing a soft smile and his eyes shining sincerely.
The perilous look in her eyes softened and receded. Erik almost thankfully noticed that she allowed the conversation to return to its previous topic.
"Oh, Erik! Come now! Raoul needs you. Surely, you do not mean to abandon him to that beast that masquerades as his mother and the block of ice known as his father. You could not possibly be that heartless, mon amour."
With an over exaggerated look of surprised and insulted innocence, he responded.
"Moi? Heartless? Hardly …."
"Hommes!" She said, shaking her head.
"Que veux-tu dire?" ¹
"You know perfectly well what I mean, but you are so sweet that I will let you get away with it … this time."
He sighed.
"Christine, it is just that I have been to more than a few of these luncheons and they can be quite uncomfortable. I find it difficult to feign enthusiasm when I can think of other ways I would rather spend the afternoon … ways that are much more enjoyable."
He leaned down and nuzzled her neck as he placed soft kisses behind her ear.
"Erik!"
He paused and raised his eyes to meet hers in the glass. After taking in her determination, he relented and looked away.
"Very well. I will attend, but I know that I shall not enjoy it."
"Oh, really, Erik. Just think of all of the things that you shall hear that you can use to tease Raoul. Besides, Phillipe shall attend as well, so that ought to detract some of their fury over Raoul's engagement. I hope …."
Shaking his head, he met his wife's beautiful amber eyes.
"You, ma chéri, are the eternal optimist if you believe that and that is one of the reasons why I love you so very much."
She smirked as she batted her eyelashes at him and then rose from her seat.
"I know, mon amour."
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Oh, Maman, I am so nervous I do believe I am going to be sick."
Silently counting to five, Antoinette smiled and spoke consolingly.
"Just breathe ma petite. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Slowly … that is it … watch me … yes … again … and, again … one more. Excellent. How do you feel now?"
The girl nodded and gave a tremulous smile.
"A little better. Merci, Maman."
"Good."
Antoinette smiled encouragingly.
"Because, we are here."
Her daughter gave a small shriek and proceeded to begin hyperventilating all over again. Antoinette sighed.
"Megan Giry! You stop this nonsense this instant. Just remember that these people are no better than you or me and just be you. Do not try to put on airs. Be proud of whom you are and you have absolutely no reason to feel anxious at all. You are my daughter and the next prima ballerina of the Opera Populaire. Stand tall and be proud!"
Meg dipped her head and bit her lip to hide her grin.
"Yes, Maman."
Antoinette gave her daughter one last appraising inspection. She allowed her lips to form the vaguest hint of a smile. She nodded.
"You will do. Come. Let us go."
As if on cue, a servant rushed to the carriage door and opened it. A second servant hurried to offer them a hand down from the carriage and a third escorted them up the stairs to the manor's imposing front doors.
Seeing Meg pale at the ostentatious signs of wealth around her, Antoinette hissed under her breath.
"Megan Marguerite Giry! Remember, green is gold! ²
With a slight nod of her head to acknowledge her mother's words, Meg cleared her throat and steadied her breathing. She relaxed her body and allowed her natural dancer's grace to flow through her. Her feet gracefully carried her to the front door, where another servant held it open for her. She inclined her head and without hesitation, stepped inside the de Chagny Manor.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"I cannot believe that woman is Mademoiselle Giry's mother. Is that the harridan of whom Sorelli spoke? Was she at the wedding? I do not remember seeing her there, but I was more than slightly distracted with Erik's nervous questions. She is formidable, but definitely intriguing. Such grace, beauty and intelligence! I have never before encountered this combination in a woman before now. I do believe I must get to know her better."
Phillipe quietly observed the statuesque woman sitting across the table from him. Her long, pale hands steepled before her, resting on the edge of the table. The woman radiated a poise and confidence that captivated the older de Chagny brother.
"I can imagine that in her time as the prima ballerina, she was an extraordinary sight to behold."
The man's fascination with Antoinette Giry had not gone unnoticed by several other persons in attendance. Erik, Christine and Meg, all noticed the man's unusual silence and had seen his furtive glances, only a distracted Raoul and his parents were unaware of the silent seduction taking hold of Phillipe. Antoinette had also noticed his eyes lingering on her, although she gave no outward sign as to her thoughts about his attention.
The meal passed and, later, if someone had asked Phillipe to relay the menu of that day, he would have found it impossible to remember, but he also would not have cared. The food was not what was foremost on his mind that day. Antoinette Giry was.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
As lunch concluded, all the guests retired to Phillipe's study where he informed them that they would dispense with the normal formalities and help themselves to whatever type of drink they wished. Some of the men helped themselves to a brandy. Erik decided to join his wife in a cup of espresso. Raoul and Meg chose to have tea. Madame shocked half of those assembled by accepting a brandy from Phillipe and then quietly walking to look out the window into the garden. Christine broke the awkward silence by voicing her decision to give an impromptu exhibition of magic, which surprised her friends and shocked the Marquis and Marques.
Looking at the curious faces around her, she inquired.
"Can someone bring me a deck of cards?"
She smiled sweetly as Phillipe went to a side table, opened a drawer and pulled out a deck, which he tossed to Christine whom deftly caught it.
"Merci, Phillipe."
She removed the deck from its package and began to shuffle the cards adroitly, causing Meg to gasp in delight at her spreads and fans of the cards. Christine stared at Meg for a moment, closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I have not done anything yet, Meg."
Meg giggled and blushed, but the sparkle in her eyes did not diminish.
"Oh, Christine! It has been such a long time since I have seen you perform. I simply adore watching you make magic. Do the pick a card …."
"Meg, there are hundreds of variations on the pick a card, any card trick, which one do you wish to see?" Christine inquired.
"The first trick you learned. That one. I still cannot figure out how you do it." Meg harrumphed.
Christine smiled.
"Very well. Since, this is your favorite trick you may choose the card, Meg. Please, Mademoiselle, pick a card, any card."
The young woman ceased shuffling the deck, fanned the cards and waited for the blonde to make her choice. As soon as the girl pulled a card from the deck, Christine spoke.
"You have made your choice, Mademoiselle! Please do not allow me to see your card, but please feel free to show it to everyone else in the room then place the card face down back into the deck."
Meg shielded the card from Christine, but made certain that everyone else in the room knew what card she held.
"I am ready, Christine."
"Oh, all right then, back into the deck it goes! Give the deck a couple of shuffles and now, I shall find your card."
The room went deathly quiet as Christine fanned the deck with both hands.
"Ah! Here it is! Is this your card, Meg? The four of clubs?"
The Marques gasped and the Marquis muttered. Phillipe and Raoul smirked and shook their heads as they had witnessed this trick many times. Meg squealed and Erik looked suitably impressed. Antoinette, however, looked surprised.
"In all the years she has lived with us, I have never seen her perform a single trick. She really is very good. I did not see her palm the card, or any other sleight of hand. I wonder. What else can she do?"
"Christine! Someday you must tell me how that is done."
"Well, Meg, you know what I always say … if I tell you, I will just have to kill you later."
Phillipe and Raoul echoed the second half of her sentence. The Marquis and Marques gasped and muttered their outrage at their son's mocking words. The men ignored their parents. Phillipe snorted and Raoul gave a short bark of laughter. When Erik looked to Phillipe with a raised brow, his friend replied.
"Christine has been saying that ever since she made up that trick she just showed you."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Erik cocked his head and asked.
"And, just how long ago was that?"
Raoul eagerly jumped into the conversation.
"I remember that summer clearly. She was seven years old." ³
"Seven?"
"Oui. Seven years old and I have never seen her fail to find the correct card. It is amazing. Although, the trick of hers that is my favorite is the disappearing/reappearing scarf, but then again, I have always been fond of tricks with a bit of flash."
Christine shook her head at Phillipe.
"Monsieur, you simply enjoy watching me startle people."
She turned to the Marquis.
"Monsieur le Marquis, may I be so bold as to beg the loan of your cravat? I promise no harm shall come to it and I shall return it to you at the conclusion of my trick."
The older man attempted to reply civilly, but it was clear that he found the request inappropriate. Erik stepped forward and offered the use of his cravat. With a shrug, Christine accepted the offered length of cloth. She walked to the center of the room where she held the cravat stretched between her two hands. Theatrically, she presented it to the assembly as she flourished it much as a matador waves his cape at a bull.
"An ordinary cravat worn by an extraordinary man, but still a simple silk cravat. I shall take this and cause it to disappear before your very eyes. Of course, that is not the difficult part. The difficulty lies in causing that which seemed destroyed to reappear, but I promise to do that as well. Observe!"
She released the cravat from her right hand and held up the empty hand for all to see, then passed the cravat to the right hand. She then held up her empty left hand for all to see.
"As you can see, I hold nothing but the cravat. I shall now stuff it into my closed fist and after saying the proper incantation, when I open my hand, the cravat shall be gone!"
The young woman proceeded to make a fist of her left hand and dramatically stuffed the silk into her closed hand. She brought her closed fist to her mouth and whispered. She then stretched out her arm, holding it level before her waist. She stared intently at her fist and then threw up her hand. As her hand opened, a flash of fire burst from her fingertips. Everyone blinked at the sudden intense light, but it was clear that the cravat was gone.
"With a flash of light and a puff of smoke, it is no more. However …."
Christine walked to her still startled husband, made a fist again and offered it to him.
"With a kiss, it shall be restored."
She nodded encouragingly, so Erik leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her knuckles. Smiling broadly, she placed her fingers into her fist and slowly drew out the cravat from her fist. After shaking the wrinkles from the silk, Christine handed the cravat back to her husband as her audience applauded. 4
"How on earth did you do that?" The Marquis sputtered.
With a grin, Christine, Raoul and Phillipe responded.
"I could tell you, but then I will just have to kill you later."
¹ "Que veux-tu dire?" – What do you mean?
² "Green is gold." – Le Femme Nikita – I interpret this saying as meaning that youth is wealth or power, but I may be incorrect. However, I use this quote in that context. --ny
³ Trystin created this magic trick when she was seven years old. I know the secret behind it and it works every time. I could tell you the secret, but then, I would just have to kill you later. Suffice it to say, it really does work.
4 An item called a "thumb tip" is the secret behind this trick. Also, a bit of flash paper. Both items were available during the 1890's.
Author's Note: This chapter just seemed to take on a life of its own and I decided to save the serious stuff for the next chapter. Although, the poor Marquis and Marques are more than slightly outnumbered. Please read and review! --ny