A/N: Ah, my faithful readers, surely you did not expect this! Raoul is still around! Blast that boy! Well, I had to change this chapter as well, since it no longer followed logically from the events in the previous chapter. The original Chapter 11 will return, but further on in the narrative. This means that our favorite couple will definitely consummate their passion! Stick around, folks!
Chapter 11: The Aristocrat's Proposition
Marguerite was polishing the silverware again, even though she had been explicitely instructed not to do so by Madame Blanche herself. The young girl knew that she was needed elsewhere in the kitchen, but the thought of being once again drenched in sweat as she toiled above a steaming pot of Guillaume's choice beef bourguigonne was so intolerable to her that she would do almost anything else...Of course, she thought to herself, she would be most interested in airing out the chamber at the top of the stairs, on the third floor. Its occupants were most peculiar. More peculiar still was the fact that the Vicomte himself came by every single week, to inquire as to the health of the very strange gentleman who had been wounded by robbers on the road. She became lost in her thoughts, remembering her recent, distinctly unpleasant encounter...
Marguerite had seen the young aristocrat once, as she peeked out from one of the windows of the inn's spacious dining room. She had gasped when she saw him, and was instantly smitten. If the stories she had been able to gather were true, this incredibly handsome man was courting the young woman who was presently attending the wounded gentleman. Antoinette, the chamber maid for the upper stories, had also whispered the most unbelievable piece of news into Marguerite's astonished ears: the young woman in question had spurned the Vicomte!
"You cannot be telling me the truth!" Marguerite, totally shocked, had her hands at her temples.
"I swear to you on my mother's grave that it's true, Margot!" Antoinette much preferred this name for the young scullery maid, and Marguerite had long ago tired of correcting her. They had nevertheless become fast friends.
"But...but...is she blind, or mad? How could she reject such a man?" She rolled her eyes dramatically, lifting her head to gaze upward as she clasped her hands together. Antoinette giggled, amused as well as pleased that her piece of news had had its desired effect on her friend.
"My dear, any of us would be more than glad to make a man like that happy! Mon Dieu!" She grinned wickedly as she turned to go up the stairs, straining under the weight of the basket she carried, which was full of clean, neatly-folded pillowcases and sheets. Marguerite remembered staring after her, mouth opened in disbelief, as Antoinette continued up the stairs. "Are you completely sure about her rejection?" she called up to her.
Antoinette turned as she reached the second-floor landing, and, groaning, set the heavy basket down. Then she leaned over the railing, and loudly whispered down, "Are you not aware that my gossip-gathering skills are the very best in this sleepy little town? Do you not remember who it was that first discovered the reason the baker's wife suddenly decided to learn how to fish? And now here we are, three years later...she has caught quite a batch for herself, hasn't she?" She giggled again, holding her hand over her mouth.
Marguerite grinned up at her friend. "Yes, she had twins right off, didn't she? It must have happened on one of those occasions he came in from one of his fishing trips!"
Antoinette leaned perilously further, holding on to the railing, and smiled knowingly. "My dear little Margot...I have it on the best authority that she is now expecting their third!"
Marguerite let out a yelp of laughter, while Antoinette abruptly pulled herself back up and, reaching down, hurriedly picked up the basket of laundry. Someone was walking down the passageway toward her. The scullery maid understood at once that someone was approaching, and now became quite busy polishing the balustrade, while the steps above came closer. She heard Antoinette mumble a reply to a male voice above, a voice which now stirred her own heart into a furious pounding. It was the scandalously handsome Vicomte...She could now hear his steps upon the stairs! Oh, if only she could run! It would, however, look rather strange to him if she were to do such a thing, so she sternly restrained herself. As he came closer, she bent even more to her self-assigned task, pretending to be totally absorbed in it. All too soon, she heard his pleasantly masculine voice at her side.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," he said.
She looked up sharply, wondering if he could hear the loud beating of her heart. She was met by his amused, deeply green eyes, and blushed, in spite of herself, looking away hastily.
"Bonjour, Monsieur," she responded, then quickly lowered her head again, as she leaned down to polish a section that already gleamed from her obsessive stroking. Unbelievably, she heard his low chuckle above her, as he again spoke.
"You are indeed a most excellent polisher, Mademoiselle!"
"Merci, Monsieur," she mumbled, without looking up. He chuckled more loudly, and stepped off the stairs. She did not hear him walk away, however. She wished he would go away. He could easily read her, and knew he had made quite an impression on her. What could he possibly want with her, unless it might be a simple roll in the hay? She was but a simple scullery maid. At last, she straightened, and met those impossibly green eyes. She was aghast at the realization that her cheeks were burning.
"Tell me, Mademoiselle," he began, while she, finding it quite difficult to meet his eyes, kept looking away from him, "have you seen the young lady who is attending the gentleman in the second suite on the third floor?"
A sudden anger, inexplicably mixed with relief, abruptly overtook her. So he was still interested in the woman who had rejected him! He was all kinds of a fool! She sighed, softly, as she looked away from him once more. Yes, he was a fool -- a fool for love...She understood. She herself had been such a fool, once.
Now she looked at him, making eye contact. "No, Monsieur, I have not," she replied, surprising herself by her calmness.
"She has not left the room this day?" he persisted.
"Well, I suppose she must have gone down to the kitchen to get some food for him. She will not allow any of the maids to enter his bedroom. She always takes the tray from them at the door."
"I see..." he answered. "And have you been one of those maids?"
"Yes, of course, Monsieur, from time to time," she answered, truthfully.
He appeared to mull this over, then spoke again. "Have you...been able to notice...ahem...whether there have been any amorous attentions between them?"
She blushed furiously now. "Why, Monsieur! I am not in the habit of intruding on the privacy of the inn's guests! Besides, I would instantly be dismissed, sir!" Her shock at having heard such a question from him must have shown plainly on her face, for he smiled reassuringly at her.
"Mademoiselle, I did not mean to imply any indiscretion on your part. It is just that...well, the staff at a hotel or inn usually...notices...many things, do they not?" He cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed now. After a brief pause, he went on. "I was just wondering whether you had happened to...notice anything, perhaps?" He smiled, rather uncertainly.
She roundly shook her head. "No, Monsieur, I have noticed nothing. I was not aware that there was any...interest of that sort between them. I had just...assumed that they were...relatives, perhaps..."
He smiled again, that beautiful smile she wished were for her alone...
"Well, then, Mademoiselle," he replied, smoothly, dipping a hand into one of his pockets, "I would be...most appreciative if you were to pass on to me any information that you were able to gather..." So saying, he pulled out a forty-franc note.
Eyes wide in dismay, she gasped. "Why, Monsieur! No! I would never accept any money, not from you, not from anyone, for spying on a guest!"
Gathering her skirts about her, she fled, leaving him with his angry disappointment, mixed with a grudging admiration for her adherence to her principles.
Well, he thought, determinedly, surely he would be able to find at least one servant at this inn who would be willing to accept his bribe! He must know exactly what was taking place between Christine and that confounded monster! That was but the first step in his plan to get her away from him. Surely she would come to her senses once she was not in his presence! It was clear that the fiend had her under a diabolical spell...so it was the scion of the House of Chagny who would ensure this spell was broken! He gritted his teeth at the thought that Erik might have already forced himself upon her innocent person, while he, Raoul, stood idly by, unable to protect her. He mentally brushed aside that little speech she had given him, when he had gone up to the suite to inquire as to Erik's welfare. It meant nothing -- nothing at all. It was simply another one of that damnable monster's ploys. He was a very skillful manipulator, and Christine did not have the strongest of wills. Yes, he would definitely tear her away from that murderer. He simply had to plan everything very, very carefully...