A/N: Wow, I guess we can begin the countdown to the last chapter now! There are officially 10 more chapters left to this story! (I haven't finished writing them all yet, but I've planned them out.)
Nikki1991: Hehe I loved writing their reunion :D
Aria of Life: Gosh I loved your review! It made me laugh haha. And thank you very much indeed, I really appreciate all the support I've received for this story! Sadly, yes, it is coming to an end, but it was a fun journey indeed!
marial0789: I do love writing cliffies hahaha!
BroadwayHopeful23: I hope this new chapter was worth the wait, then! (; Sorry for making you all suffer through cliffies!
Dani: Hopefully you did survive til Monday to get to read this! Haha!
E-man-dy-S: Thank you! I hope you had a great Christmas (:
Masked Man 2: I thought maybe the idea of Belcourt was too good to be true... too accepting, friendly, etc, but I thought, ah heck, Erik's been through enough of hell, so I decided to make the happy ending as happy as possible! And yes, Erik and Reyer's relationship has been kept secret for quite some time, hasn't it! I expect it came as a little of a surprise for the readers.
loveforallpeaceforeveryone: I'm flattered! Thank you very much for the compliment; this is my first full piece of writing and it does mean a lot to me that you enjoy the story (:
And now, on to the story! Hope you all had a Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year in advance! (Thank you to all new favourites/followers!)
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Chapter 56: The New Employee
Paris, 1899
"That went well," Eustache remarked, once they were safely ensconced in a carriage and heading back to his house. "I daresay the manager was impressed. Why are you so quiet, Erik?"
"I thought I saw her," he admitted. "As I turned to leave… I thought I saw her standing amongst the ballet rats. And I wanted to… I wanted to walk over."
"You couldn't have," Eustache reminded him. "Erik, you're not even supposed to know who she is. This is your first time in the opera house."
"I know." Erik said quietly, his hands gripping the sides of the carriage tightly.
"Patience, Erik, patience." Reyer clucked his tongue at him. "For you will be able to see your precious Amélie soon enough. Do you not start work next week, after all?"
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"He's back," she said stubbornly. "Nadir, he's back."
"Amélie," he said gently, "it's been almost two months."
"Are you not the one who told me to have faith in him?" She scowled, pushing her cup of tea away. "Madame, you believe me, do you not?"
The trio were ensconced away in Madame Giry's apartments. Over the past month, Amélie had introduced Nadir to Madame Giry, and the three had often sat together, drinking tea and reminiscing about the past with Erik. Madame Giry had found Nadir's stories about Erik's life in Persia fascinating, and in turn, she had regaled Nadir with stories about Erik as a young child in the opera house. These stories had made Amélie's heart ache even harder, but she had smiled through them, for it was the only time she was able to talk about Erik, in the company of those who had known him.
Madame Giry looked pensive. "Reyer mentioned to me a couple of days ago that an old friend would be back to visit me soon. And I wonder…"
"It does not make sense—how could Reyer know Erik?" Nadir pointed out. "Surely he could not have discovered the Opera Ghost one day while walking through the place? Erik was always too careful about being discovered."
"And Monsieur Reyer is no sleuth," Madame Giry observed. "I had no idea they knew each other, if that was even Erik she saw."
"It was Erik." Amélie said firmly. "I would recognize that voice anywhere."
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The next Monday arrived far too quickly for Erik's liking. He felt unprepared. This was foreign territory. It was the first the Opera Ghost would be entering the Palais Garnier as a rightful employee. No, no longer the Opera Ghost. His fingers shook as he buttoned up his lawn shirt. He had to stop thinking of himself as the former spectre of the opera house. That ghost had been dead and buried the night he had fled the building after the spectacle of Don Juan. The Opera Ghost was no more.
He pulled on his gloves, picked up his briefcase filled with his manuscripts, and doffed his hat, pulling the brim low. Then he walked out of Reyer's house, blinking slightly in the bright sunlight. The composer had left earlier, saying that he had had business to sort out with the new manager over the opera that he had chosen.
Erik hailed down a hackney, and got in with trepidation. As the horse trotted its way toward the opera house, Erik watched the streets go by, with people hurrying by and going about their own affairs. There were women carrying grocery baskets and men dressed similarly to him walking by on their way to work. And he was one of them now. The thought struck him suddenly, for all his life he had wanted to be just another normal person, and all of a sudden, he had that chance.
This was it. The new life he had always been dreaming of.
The hackney stopped in front of the building he had been living in for much of his life. He alighted, and made his way to the employee's door, unlocking it with the key he had been given.
The moment he entered, the whispers started.
He took a deep breath. It was not as though he was a stranger to whispers. He had been gossiped about all his life.
"Why is he still wearing a hat indoors?"
"Doesn't he feel hot wearing those gloves?"
"Who is he?"
Erik stopped short as a figure stepped out in front of him. He followed the pair of feet upward to see a very familiar face, framed in blond curls.
"Good morning," he began to say, but was stopped short when she launched herself at him, taking his arm excitedly.
"Oh, cousin Erik!" She looked up at him excitedly. "You've arrived at last!"
Erik stared at her, aghast. "What?" He mouthed to her.
"Just play along," she hissed at him. "Maman warned me that you might be coming today, and thought you might have a little trouble getting past all the gossipmongers."
"Meg, is this your cousin?" Someone asked curiously. Meg beamed at the people standing around.
"Yes, indeed! Cousin Erik has come to work in the opera house. He was hired by the new manager just last week."
"Why have we never heard you talk about a cousin before?" One ballet rat asked suspiciously.
"Oh, cousin Erik was abroad for many years, and I haven't seen him in a long time!" The blond ballerina said airily, the lies rolling off her tongue easily. Erik raised his eyebrows under his hat, thinking that she could perhaps attempt a career in acting should ballet not work out for her.
"Good morn to you, mademoiselle," Erik tipped his hat and bowed slightly to her. The ballet rat stared, and curtseyed, giggling as she did so.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."
"Ah, there you are, Erik!" A voice boomed out from down the corridor, and Erik looked up to see the manager walking toward them with Reyer.
"Come on, come on, I need to make an announcement! Everybody is to gather in the theatre in five minutes!" The new manager roared, clapping his hands loudly, as the ballet rats and stagehands began filing in the direction of the theatre. Meg let go of Erik's arm with an apologetic look, and followed some of the chattering ballet rats who immediately pulled her over and began to whisper loudly.
"Ah, Erik, I must make some introductions. Of course you already know Reyer, but this is Madame Giry, our resident ballet mistress."
"We have met before," Antoinette said dryly, casting Erik a fierce glance. "Hello, cousin Erik."
"Oh?" Belcourt looked surprised and a little shocked. "You are… cousins?"
"Erik has been away for a long time," Antoinette sniffed haughtily, "and has not seen fit to inform his cousin of his whereabouts."
Erik coughed awkwardly as Belcourt laughed loudly. "Very well, very well! This is all very coincidental, is it not, Reyer? Come now, let us go to the theatre! I shall make the announcement of our new employee."
Reyer merely smiled a small smile.
As Belcourt led the way jovially, Erik lagged behind. "Antoinette, I…"
"It was for the best, Erik. I do think it would have been better than us behaving like strangers. But save the explanations for later," she hissed at him. "I have too many questions for now."
He winced as she glared daggers at him, then followed the group into the theatre.
The various employees of the opera house had scattered themselves through the theatre, leaning against pillars, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the stage, and looking around with anticipation. Belcourt stepped onto the stage and clapped his hands, gesturing for silence.
"Good morning to all, employees of the Palais Garnier. For those who do not know yet, I am Belcourt, the new owner of this opera house. This is a cue for some applause, by the way." He paused, and some employees laughed loudly, while others clapped.
"Very good, very good! We are off to a good start. Now, as you all know, I have taken over the previous owners, Andre and Firmin, and I assured them I would do a good job of managing this opera house. Some announcements must be made. Firstly, we begin preparations for a new production of Die Fledermaus, to celebrate our long two-month hiatus after the last opera was performed!"
Murmurs of excitement flew about the theatre as ballet rats giggled excitedly over costumes, and stagehands began to discuss props needed and the long trips needed to root through the storerooms for the required items.
Belcourt clapped his hands again. "And might I also announce our newest employee, Monsieur Erik Chevalier, who will joining us as my assistant! Erik, please."
Erik walked over to stand beside Belcourt, bowing deeply. He took a deep breath, and removed his hat.
Silence fell over the room.
Those who had worked in the Palais Garnier long enough had seen enough glimpses of the Opera Ghost to deduce that the ghost had worn a white mask over his face. They knew. Erik could see fingers being pointed, and people whispering behind their palms. Those who had no idea what the Opera Ghost looked like were merely gossiping about the white mask upon his face, and wondering what it was all about.
"Now, now," Belcourt began again. "Monsieur Chevalier will be helping Monsieur Reyer with his duties as the conductor as well as assisting me in making decisions about the opera house. I trust that all of you will cooperate with him."
He turned to Erik. "Would you like to say a few words?"
Erik stared at him, speechless. He turned slowly back to the audience. "My name is Erik Chevalier, and I… I hope to work well with all of you."
He winced at his awkward speech and made another bow, as a smattering of claps rang out from around the room.
"It is an outrage!" Carlotta burst in through the theatre doors, late as usual. "This is ridiculous!"
Belcourt sighed loudly. "Yes, my dear signora, what can I do for you now?"
Carlotta stomped ungracefully up to the stage, pointing an accusing finger decked with rings at Erik. "How dare you! How dare you hire this… this… murderer! You should have thrown him out immediately!"
Erik blanched. There was a loud gasp from the employees gathered, for Carlotta had dared to voice out the thought that had been present in some minds. Belcourt frowned.
"What do you mean, signora?"
"This man, monsieur," she said mockingly, "is the Opera Ghost! I am sure of it! He attempted to kill my Ubaldo, and I will see him tried and hanged for it!"
The murmur from the crowd was growing louder and louder, and Erik clenched his fists, trying to block out the snatches of conversations that he caught.
"That's the Opera Ghost?"
"A murderer in our midst!"
"He already killed Buquet and made an attempt on Piangi's life. What's to say he won't start on us?"
"Buquet's death was an accident!"
"I say it's a good thing, maybe the presence of the opera ghost will stop that ginger-haired witch from bossing us around."
"You won't be saying that once he starts making his murderous attempts on us."
"Enough!" Belcourt roared. "Monsieur Chevalier has just only returned from abroad, and he is a valuable resource to the opera house. There is to be no slight against him! And you, signora, you will quell your attempts to raise gossip! Opera Ghost, indeed. I've never heard such a ridiculous story in my life."
"You will regret this, I swear!" Carlotta shrieked, waving her fist at him. "When he begins to make his tyrannical demands… or worse, when you find his lasso looped around your neck, and it will be too late then! I will refuse to sing under his instruction!"
"Your threats do not frighten me, signora," Erik said suddenly, smoothly and softly. "There is many a good singer in Paris to replace you should you not wish to sing."
Carlotta stared at him and gave a loud shriek, before turning and running out of the theatre. There were a few amused laughs at her departure.
He turned to the opera house. "I will not tolerate any gossip about my identity as the Opera Ghost. The spectre was a thing of the past, before I arrived here in the opera house to work, and La Carlotta's words were a slight upon my reputation that I will take very personally. I intend to give my best in this opera house, and I expect all of you to cooperate with me accordingly. Respect works on a two-way basis."
He thought his voice shook a little, but he had made his point clear. To the newer employees who had not had much experience with the opera ghost, they were to work with him accordingly and stop spreading rumours. And to the older employees, they knew from his words that they were to drop the subject about the Opera Ghost, and to leave the spectre as a mere memory of the past, never to be mentioned again. His strong words had earned him a little more respect from some of the employee, but Erik himself knew he had a long way to go before he would be completely accepted by them.
Belcourt clapped him on the shoulder. "All dismissed, now! Instructions for Die Fledermaus will be passed onto the various heads of each department, who I believe will delegate the work accordingly!"
To Erik, he said, "now, why don't you familiarise yourself with the opera house, Erik? You can listen to the orchestra, talk to the staff, and let me know what you think about the opera house in general. We will have a meeting later in the afternoon about this."
Erik nodded dumbly as Belcourt walked off.
From behind him, Antoinette tapped her cane, and Erik whirled around.
"To my rooms, Erik? There is someone who is waiting to meet you. Reyer, if you please?"
Her steely tone brooked no argument, and Erik and Reyer found themselves walking silently toward her apartments.
Antoinette tapped gently on the door, and opened it. Erik stepped inside, removing his coat and hanging it on the hooks in the wall.
"Hello, Erik," a voice said softly.
He turned from the wall, and saw her. She had stood from her seat at the table, her hand clutching the edge of the table as if for support. She had changed; she looked more tired, sadder, and her mouth was not in one of her usual smiles. Her eyes swam with questions, and upon closer look, Erik saw that the hand at her side was clenched, but shaking slightly. Erik took one step forward, and another, until he was right before her. Up close, he saw that her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and that they were filled with relief, happiness, and fatigue. He reached out, and wordlessly, brought her to him, his arms curving around her slim body. She fit; she had always fit, like a correct puzzle piece.
"Amélie," he breathed. "Amélie. I'm so sorry."
And then he felt her hands clutching onto him desperately, as though she feared he would be taken away. He pulled her closer, smelling the floral soap smell of her hair, and feeling the familiarity of having her close.
When he pulled away, he saw that Antoinette was standing there, with a sad smile on her face.
"Erik," Amélie said shakily. "Where have you been? How have you been? How did you come back?"
He raised a hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen from her eyes. "I will explain everything."
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A/N: As usual, please read/review/fav/follow/let me know what you think! Here's to a happy start to 2015! xx hazel