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.
not so useless titles
i need you
i need me
to be the best
we can be
woman
wife
you surround
wondrous titles
run aground
i fear you
you fear me
and
all too soon
we
chase the sun
but
catch the moon
darling
beloved
i lose sight
of all the words
we speak each night
Nyasia A. Maire – 2007
Chapter Forty-Eight – Not So Useless Titles
"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."
The three friends erupted into hearty laughter as the Marquis muttered under his breath while shaking his head in disgust at the undignified behavior of his offspring.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Christine then surprised the brothers by suddenly changing the topic.
"I wish that my magic could help you both by changing what people think."
Her eyes slid in the direction of their father and mother. She spoke softly.
"But, I have a feeling that time is the only magic weapon you can wield in this battle. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps, love is the only other weapon in your arsenal that you may employ. Time and love may conquer all. I suggest the two of you Romeos need to make the opening move this afternoon. I have two truisms for you that apply. Tempus fugit and carpe diem."
She smiled gently and placed a hand on each of her friend's shoulders. Then, without warning, she gave the two of them a firm push in the direction of their parents.
Raoul looked to his older brother and sighed.
"I suppose since I have already asked for my lady's hand, I am the one that should begin."
He cleared his throat and began to state his case to his parents.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Well, that went better than I thought it would. Although, I suppose being confronted with the united front of the two brothers as well as the implied threat of never seeing their grandchildren provided all the impetus required to push them into approving Raoul and Meg's nuptials."
Erik nuzzled his lips against his wife's neck.
"Indeed. And, I think that poor Sorelli shall need to find another patron. Did you see the look on Phillipe's face? The man is completely smitten. The war was lost without a single shot fired. Today bachelors the world over mourned for their lost leader."
Erik smirked.
"If anyone mourns, they mourn the fact that he is completely unaware of his infatuation. When Madame accepted the brandy from him, I thought he would faint! She is perfect for him. I just hope that this relationship will not upset Meg. After all, if Madame and Phillipe marry, she and Meg shall be sisters-in-law. A more than slightly strange way of thinking about ones own mother. Do you not think so, Erik?"
The man mumbled his response as he nibbled his wife's earlobe and she let out a small squeal.
"Oh, Erik! Are you certain we need to go to the opera house now? Can this not wait for another day? I would really like to go home and well, I would like you to show me a few more breathing exercises. I really liked the ones we worked on last night …."
"Woman! You are insatiable!"
He enveloped her in a tight embrace and muttered.
"And, I love it that you are! Ma chéri, please know that I feel the same unquenchable desire for you."
They sat within the carriage, their bodies tangling, expressing their ever increasing ardor. Their hands roving and searching, squeezing and caressing, until the man and women felt themselves reduced to breathless, mindless husks. Erik thought that his mind would perish from lack of blood soon if Christine did not cease her ministrations to his body. In turn, Christine felt an exalted sense of freedom. To be able to love Erik completely and without the shadow of Lilith in her mind was an ecstasy previously unknown to her. She was completely free.
The carriage lurched and jerked to a stop. Erik groaned and attempted to bring his body under control.
"Well, Madame Rossignol¹, it appears that we have arrived at the opera house."
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"This feels so strange. I lived here twelve years. I know every hallway, every room, every hidden passage, but now that I am with you, now that I am here as your wife, I feel as if I am a complete stranger here. The opera house is the same, I suppose. Only I have changed."
She smiled shyly.
"I hope I have changed for the better, mon amour."
He returned her smile with a wicked one of his own.
"Oui, ma chéri. You become more wonderful with each passing day. Ah! Yes, here we are!"
He led the confused woman out onto the stage.
"And now, mon mari², will you tell me why we are here? Or must I resort to torturing you with my tiny fingers? Hmmm?"
She wriggled her delightfully dexterous digits in the direction of his waist and leered at him. Suddenly, she straightened and whirled about as she heard someone's throat clear. The speed of her movement startled Erik, causing him to take a step back from her.
"I suppose in a roundabout way I have Lilith to thank for Christine's unorthodox sense of humor, her boyish manners and her uncanny speed. I am most relieved that all of the peculiarities she exhibits are good ones for her to have. I am such a fortunate man."
"Oh, Erik! Why did you not tell me someone else is here?"
He chuckled and spoke in a low voice.
"And miss you turning that absolutely luscious shade of crimson? Never!"
The sound of the throat clearing returned the couple's attention to the man at the head of the orchestra pit. Erik inclined his head to the man.
"Monsieur Reyer."
The man returned the courtesy.
"Monsieur Destler. Madame Destler. The managers asked me to inform you that they should be here shortly."
Christine turned an upraised eyebrow to her husband.
"The managers? What are you plotting, monsieur?"
She huffed as she placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Well, I have it on very reliable sources that the opera house is in serious need of a lead soprano. It has been depending on visiting divas for the last four years and their patron thought it time that they find someone to fill the position permanently. As the patron happens to be my best friend, as well as a supporter of the candidate, he convinced the managers to allow a private audition today. An audition for you, ma chéri."
He squirmed slightly, blushed furiously and then added.
"And for me, as well."
Erik could have sworn he could hear the leftover rosin from the ballerina's slippers settling on the stage, the silence was so overwhelming. He was not sure if she would slap him or kiss him. He hoped for the latter, but feared the former. She surprised him with a serious question.
"And, monsieur, just what song are we to sing for this audition?"
He turned and felt his chest swell with happiness as it gave way into a huge sigh of relief. His wife was smiling at him. She walked close to him and whispered into his ear.
"Merci, Erik. Merci. The Angel of Music is well pleased that both of his pupils shall sing. So, I am most serious. What are we to sing for this audition? I would prefer to perform a duet. We have practiced several … I would prefer … hmmm …. Why are you smiling like that?"
"I have already provided Monsieur Reyer with the duet, "O Nuit Divine" from Act Two, Scene Two of Romeo et Juliette by Charles Gounod. We have practiced that often. Will that be acceptable, mon amour?"
Inwardly, Erik froze. In his exuberance to prepare for their audition, he had pushed from his mind the debacle and true tragedy that Romeo et Juliette might hold in Christine's mind. He mentally began to berate himself for his thoughtlessness. He relaxed as he saw Christine's reaction and he offered up silent thanks to Père Anton's counseling of his wife. She blushed prettily and gazed up at him from under her long lashes.
"It is perfect, mon mari. Well, then, I suppose I have no further protestations to make. Shall we?"
He raised his arm and she wrapped her hand around it.
"Indeed, ma femme³, let us show them the glory of the music taught to us by the Angel of Music?"
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Erik! Christine! You need to make another curtain call. The audience refuses to cease applauding!"
The happiness in Meg's voice was contagious and not to be denied.
"You need to get out there. Where is Erik?" The slender ballerina pouted.
Christine glanced about the wings and her eyes found the object of her heart's desire. He was standing next to a portly, dark man that wore a strange-looking black and white checkered cloth wrapped around his head. Christine nudged her friend and pointed.
"Look! Erik's speaking with the Persian. I wonder what they have to say to one another."
Meg shrugged and strode over to the two men, pulling Christine along with her.
"Erik! Do you hear that noise? It is for you and Christine."
She paused and when he did not react quickly enough, she shoved the couple towards the stage.
"Now, Romeo, take your Juliette and go out there and take your final curtain call! You have plenty of time for gossiping later."
The pair stumbled onto the stage, but rapidly regained their composure as Erik bowed and Christine dropped into a deep and graceful curtsey.
"Megan Marguerite Giry! Just you wait until I get my hands on you!"
Erik smirked as he heard his wife's comment, but marveled at her ability to cover her annoyance with an enchanting smile. It seemed that his wife still had the fierceness of the opera ghost within her as well.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Madame Destler? Are you Madame Destler?"
Surprised by the quiet inquiry, Christine turned to face the man with the dark complexion and unusual headdress. She tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow.
"Oui, Monsieur. I am …."
She allowed the unspoken question to hang in the air for a moment. The man smiled and Christine marveled at how it transformed his features.
"Before he smiled, he seemed menacing, but with that smile on his face, he seems like he could be almost … fatherly. How curious!"
"Oh! Madame, where are my manners! How rude of me! I do apologize! Allow me to introduce myself to you. My name is Nadir Khan."
He accepted Christine's extended hand and kissed the air above the back of her hand. Christine smiled shyly at him and responded.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Monsieur Khan. I have seen you around the opera house many times, but have never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. It is very nice to meet you at last."
He patted her hand and smiled.
"Yes, Madame. I, too, have seen you, but I had no idea that the little girl I saw scurrying about the opera house had the voice of an angel. Congratulations on your debut. I do believe opera has never before witnessed such divine sounds emanating from mortal lips. Truly, you and your husband sing as if your throats were blessed by the heavens."
"Oh, merci, Monsieur Khan. You are too kind."
"Ah, my words fail to adequately express the true brilliance of your voices, so I speak only the sadly lacking words I can find in your language. I eagerly await your next appearance on the stage. Might I inquire when that shall take place?"
Christine scanned the room for Erik and catching his eye beckoned to him.
"Unfortunately, after the opera house closes for the season, I am taking an extended leave."
"May I ask the reason for this misfortune?"
Christine shook her head and lowered her eyes.
"No, Monsieur. You may not. I apologize. I do not mean to offend, but it is for personal reasons."
The man held up his hands in front of him.
"Oh, dear! No offense taken."
Erik stepped next to Christine and placed his arm around her waist. She smiled up at him gratefully.
"Do you think we might go home? I am feeling quite tired. It has been a long day."
He bowed slightly to Monsieur Khan.
"If you would excuse us, Monsieur. As my wife said, it has indeed been a long and tiring day for both of us."
"Of course. Madame. Monsieur. It has been a pleasure to make both of your acquaintance. I hope we may speak again sometime soon."
And, with a bow, Nadir Khan wandered away and was soon lost in the crowd.
Erik murmured in Christine's ear.
"Are you quite all right, ma chéri? You look a bit pale."
She smiled and unconsciously brushed her hand across her abdomen.
"I am wonderful, mon amour. Just tired. Really."
"Well then, we cannot allow the greatest prima donna to ever grace the stage of an opera to become overtired. Here, ma femme, allow me to escort you home."
"Merci, Monsieur." She smirked then grew serious. "Erik, je t'aime."
¹ Madame Rossignol – Madam Nightingale
² mon mari – my husband
³ ma femme – my wife
Author's Note: We are nearing the conclusion of the story and I find each chapter more and more difficult to complete. Sorry that I'm slowing down, but knowing that the end is near is tearing me apart. I promised Trystin that the next story I write is the bedtime story I made up for her and have been telling her ever since her conception. Yes, I know I looked a tad strange telling a fairy tale to my tummy, but anything for my T! The name of the story is "The Plastic Rainbow" and I am wracking my brain to see if I can write a POTO version at the same time I write her version. We'll see.
Anyway, two chapters left . . . now is the time for all you lurkers (whom I appreciate too!) to chip in and write a review! --ny