A/N: Thank you to my reviewers and readers! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, Raoul-free. This time, you will not be so lucky. (But it's good, I promise!) I know it took me a while to update. Sorry about that...this chapter is a nice, long one. Read on!

Chapter Sixty

Morning came too quickly for the Viscomte de Chagny. His eyelids were heavy and reluctant to open, and he wished that he could stay in bed all day, avoiding the outside world with its troubles. He knew that he must respond to the managers at the Populaire sometime soon, but what he was going to say to them, he had no idea. A dull headache had begun to build behind his eyes during the night, and the sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the heavy drapes only added to his misery.

With a growl, he threw back the sheets and stood to his feet, tossing a silk robe about his shoulders. By God, if I'm going to be awake, I'd best be doing something, hadn't I? Timed perfectly, there was a light rapping upon his bedroom door.

"Who is it?" He blinked, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

"Francois, Viscomte. Are you alright?"

Raoul sighed. "Yes, Francois. Come in, please."

The door opened with a slight wooden creak and Francois stepped inside, impeccably dressed and ready for his workday as usual, squinting into the relative darkness of the bedroom. "Allow me to open the drapes for you, Viscomte?"

Raoul stepped aside. "Of course. And there is something else that I need."

Francois nodded, pulling back the drapes.

Raoul immediately squinted and shielded his eyes. "I wish to take my morning coffee and paper here today...in the privacy of my bedroom. I am not to be disturbed until after I have dressed and come downstairs."

"Yes, Viscomte. Right away." He gave a polite smile and exited soundlessly. Raoul found himself suddenly aware of how excellent Francois had always been at his job. Is he happy here? Does this sort of work bring him joy? He rubbed his chin. Surely if a man can find joy in being a servant...I can find some sort of joy in my position. How selfish I have been! He frowned, plumping himself down on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees.

Suddenly, he remembered that he was expected at an event that evening. He groaned. "I am not at all in the mood for socializing." He put his face in his hands and rubbed his forehead lightly for a few moments, trying to ease the tension from his brow before covering his face with his hands. "I have to get over her," he said, his anguished voice muffled in his palms.

"Viscomte?"

Raoul jerked his head up. That was awfully fast. "Come in."

The butler untucked the folded newspaper from under his arm and handed it to his employer. "Your paper. And I'll set your coffee here on the nightstand."

"Thank you." Raoul paused as Francois turned and started out of the room. "Francois?"

He halted and turned. "Yes?"

"I am expected at the Robichauds' tonight...I sent my reply some time ago. I would appreciate it if my carriage was made ready by five o'clock."

"Of course, Viscomte. I will see to it myself."

Raoul nodded and smiled as his butler left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Now, he thought to himself, I suppose that an evening with acquaintances would be a welcome diversion for...all of this.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mmmfmm hmmm!"

"How am I supposed to hear you with your face stuffed in that pillow, you silly girl?"

Angelique lifted her head, taking in a quick breath. "I said, 'It's too early for this!'"

Her sister smiled crookedly, both amused and annoyed with the grumpy blond "child" in the bed. "No, it isn't too early. We have many things to do today to prepare. Come on, get up." She pulled the flowered spread back, angering her younger sister.

"Stop it!"

"I swear, if you don't get up, I'm going to douse you with cold water!"

"Try it, Justine, and you'll be wearing your breakfast today!"

They both burst into a fit of giggles and Angelique sat up, pushing her unruly ringlets out of her eyes. "Well," she said, clearing her throat, "I suppose that you won't mind wearing your breakfast as long as its color complements your skin tone."

"Oh, pooh!" Justine laughed, swatting her sister on the arm. "Stop being so difficult and put on your robe. It will be time for the party before you know it."

Grumbling to herself, Angelique dragged herself from the warm comfort of her bed and slipped into her pink, floor-length kimono acquired by her father on his last trip to the Orient. She had to admit that she was slightly excited for the anniversary party...but she would, of course, never reveal it to Justine nor her father. Still, the sensible side of her was reluctant to go to another social event, forced to smile like a porcelain doll, alone, while all of the girls her age were asked to dance. She knew that several of the young men had been interested in her at one time, but it seemed that word had traveled about her independent spirit and love of books and science...things that most young men believed were only appropriate for...other young men. Ah, well, I wouldn't choose them for myself in any case, she reminded herself. God made me this way, and therefore it is His responsibility to find me a proper husband, she laughed to herself. I won't settle for anything less.

She found herself pondering the mental picture of God in His glory, hunting high and low for a respectable young man secure enough in himself to choose a wife like her. Strangely enough, every time she imagined this, she could picture the Almighty shrugging with a baffled expression, coming up empty handed. If it weren't so painful to think about, perhaps I'd laugh, she thought with a grimace.

At the breakfast table, the list of errands seemed endless. "Justine, surely you don't expect me to rush about all day, primping myself like a peacock!"

Justine popped a red grape into her mouth and smiled sweetly, chewing all the while. "If you were a peacock, you wouldn't need primping," she teased. "We must find you some new shoes, of course, and have your hair washed and set, and..."

Angelique's mind began to drift in a fog as her sister prattled on and on. Studying her every expression while pretending to listen, she wondered how her relationship might have been with Justine had their mother lived to raise them properly. When she became ill, it was a terrible shock to the family...and as the cancer spread, their mother depended on Justine to help with household chores and the discipline of her barely younger sister. All in all, Angelique was amazed at the woman her sister had become, and had helped her to become. Justine had only been fourteen when their Mother died, and Angelique was preparing to enter her teen years. Their father had done his best to raise them during those crucial times, but he was no substitute for a mother--and they were too old for nursemaids. By the grace of God, they had become proper young women.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Hmmmm?" Angelique blinked, her glazed pupils once again focusing intently on her sister's face. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Ohhh! You know, you are infuriating sometimes!" Justine's face was red with frustration, and she pounded her dainty fist upon the table. "Like it or not, we are going to have a lovely day together, so just accept it!"

Angelique giggled. "Well, since you put it that way...how can I refuse?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Viscomte, this message just arrived for you."

Raoul stood and moved from behind his desk. "Thank you, Francois."

The butler hesitated. "It is nearly four o'clock...do you wish to have a bath drawn?"

Raoul nodded. "Please. I hadn't realized it was so late...I'll be up in a few moments...thank you."

As Francois left, he closed the door behind him, and Raoul looked down at the envelope in his hands. I know what this is, he thought sullenly. It's from the managers at the Opera...again. He sighed, tearing it open quickly with a bit of frustration.

Dear Monsieur le Viscomte,

We were paid a visit today by your brother, Comte Philippe de Chagny. He has informed us that he wishes to see no more of his family money being used toward the reconstruction of the Populaire. We were terribly disappointed to hear of this and wondered if your brother was in fact, speaking on your behalf as well. If so, we regret that we will have to indefinitely postpone the reconstruction and inform those in our employ that they must find work elsewhere.

It is urgent that we receive word directly from you on this matter. Please contact us at once. We anxiously await your response, along with perhaps a brief explanation.

Sincerely,

M. Richard Firmin

M. Gilles André

Raoul was fuming. He didn't even trust me to make my own decision in the matter! He pounded his fist against the desk with such force that he thought perhaps he might have made an indentation in the mahogany. Philippe, my brother, when will you realize that I am a man and not a child?

"I'll deal with this tomorrow," he said aloud, tossing the note angrily onto the desk. Purposefully, he strode from his study and up the grand staircase to ready himself for what he hoped would be an enjoyable evening with the Robichauds.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Darling, you look stunning!"

Angelique descended the stairs, following her sister. Her cheeks flushed when her father complimented her so, and she felt a small amount of pride. "Thank you, Father...but it was all Justine's doing."

"Nonsense," her sister chimed in, frowning. "I only helped you choose the dress and shoes...the rest just comes naturally to you." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I just know you're going to have a lovely time tonight, Angelique...I can feel it."

Angelique hated to see her sister cry. "Don't...please," she said, wiping a tear from Justine's cheek. "Don't get emotional now...and I'm really not expecting a lovely evening for myself, but I know that you will have a good time. And besides, the Robichauds have been married for...how many years is it?"

"Forty years," her father spoke up.

"Forty years. That seems like something worth celebrating. I can be happy for them tonight, if not for myself," Angelique said resolutely. "Well, when are we leaving?"

Her father smiled. "In a few minutes, ma cherie. We are apparently to be escorted to this party by Monsieur Maurice Pineau."

Angelique stared at her sister, who turned at least three shades of red. "I--I didn't tell you," Justine stammered. "He just sent word this afternoon, while you were reading in the library."

"Well," Angelique began after a moment of shocked silence, "that was...very kind of him to offer, I suppose. I just hope we aren't late."

Justine lowered her eyes to the floor and crossed the foyer to stand by the door. She began to nervously tap her foot as she stood there, watching for Maurice through the foggy glass. "He'll be on time."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Viscomte! So lovely to see you again! Thank you for coming," Monsieur and Madame Robichaud greeted Raoul as he entered from the foyer into the grand ballroom.

"Happy anniversary," he replied with a bright smile. "May you have many more joyous years together."

They all nodded politely to one another, and Raoul felt his tension ease a bit when he saw several of his friends in a corner of the room chatting. One of them, a dark-haired young man, a year or so younger, spotted him and waved him over.

"Raoul! How have you been, my friend?" the young man smiled, patting him on the back.

"Oh...fine. And you, Jean-Michel?"

"Splendid! Couldn't be better! Say, I thought of you the other day. Read in the Epoque that your engagement had been broken. I'm sorry," he frowned.

"Really?" Raoul's eyes widened in surprise. "It was in the Epoque? Is nothing kept private anymore?"

"Not in the gossip pages, I'm afraid. It is true, then?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so. But...I'm here to enjoy myself," he said, forcing a smile. "She has moved on with her life, and I intend to do the same."

"Good for you," Jean-Michel patted his back again, more emphatically this time. "Have some champagne and dance with a few ladies! You um...did notice that several here in this room are quite attuned to your presence?"

Raoul raised his eyebrows and scanned the room discreetly. Sure enough, he caught glimmers of coy smiles from across the room...the batting of eyelashes...the flitting of fans. It reminded him of a swarm of butterflies--beautiful, but somehow annoying as well. "Hmmm. Unfortunately, I know the reputations of most of these women. And I'm sure that they aren't what I'd be seeking in anything...long term."

"Who says you need anything 'long term'?" Jean-Michel grinned deviously. "Having a romance on the rebound can be very...rewarding. Don't you think?"

"I've never had a romance on the 'rebound,' as you say, before. And I don't intend to now. The very idea..." He shook his head in disgust. "I am not my brother, and I'll thank you to remember that."

Laughter erupted from the group nearby, as they had apparently been listening to the semi-private conversation. Raoul was angry, but he chose to remain the picture of composure. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Jean-Michel..." He paused and turned toward the group of mixed company behind him. "Ladies, gentlemen, so glad I could entertain you this evening," he said with a mocking smile. "Excuse me." He stepped his way across the room again, avoiding the dancing couples in the middle. Finding a server, he decided to drown his misery in champagne and hors d'oevres for the evening. He had just finished his first glass when a strange sensation gripped his chest--a sensation he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity...

His head swam. Is it the champagne, or is it...no. No...it can't be. What on earth is wrong with me? His senses were suddenly dulled...all except his vision. A sea of shimmering blue and white tulle seemed to drown him as he made a vain effort to drink in the sight of golden curls and rosy cheeks...a smile that lit up the entire room...graceful hands...

He swallowed and found that his mouth had gone completely dry. Time seemed to stand still as he watched this beautiful vision of young womanhood step into the ballroom, and the heads of nearly every young man present seemed to swivel in unison. Raoul caught himself before he laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. In a rush, his hearing returned to him, and he noticed murmuring from the surrounding groups of guests.

"Very beautiful, yes, but not very domestic..." said the voices. "Never make a good wife the way she thinks...far too independent."

Are they talking about her? Raoul wondered in surprise. He wanted to know more...he had to know more. He had never felt so utterly consumed by the presence of another woman before...not even Christine. The thought frightened him and excited him at the same time. Suddenly, there he was...just a few feet from her. When did I walk across this room? And just as he took a deep breath, the young woman turned toward him.

Tongue tied? Me? When have I ever been lacking in words? Say something, you fool! Raoul made a feeble attempt at a friendly smile. "M-Mademoiselle? Good evening to you."

The young blond woman looked surprised. She blushed immediately, and her dazzling blue eyes darted away from his. "H-hello, Monsieur. Good evening." A lovely brunette girl stood next to her, her arm in that of a tall young man whom he did not know. Raoul saw the brunette give the blond girl a slight shove, and the young woman nearly stumbled into him.

"Justine!" she cried, whirling around, embarrassed. "Stop it," she hissed through her teeth in a low voice.

Raoul grinned, finding his composure at last. "I wonder if I might ask you...for a dance."

The young blond spun around to face him, her eyes wide with shock. "Um...a--a dance? Oh...I—I don't know...I..."

"Forgive me, I haven't even properly introduced myself. My name is Raoul de Chagny..." Please help me not to frighten her away! "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

She fiddled with one of the ringlets dangling by her left cheek, which Raoul at once found rather endearing. "A-Angelique, Monsieur. Angelique Gaucher."

"Gaucher?" He recognized the name. "Your father wouldn't happen to be Auguste Gaucher, the owner of the carriage company?"

"Yes, he would be," a deep voice spoke from behind Angelique. "And your family, Viscomte, is one of our longtime customers, yes?" The slender, gray-haired man emerged with a smile to shake Raoul's hand.

Viscomte? Viscomte Raoul de Chagny? Angelique's mind couldn't quite process the information. Oh, no! He's just asked me to dance and I didn't even respond properly! She was mortified, and her face reflected her shame.

She wrung her hands nervously and stepped backward, nearly snagging the hem of her sister's gown. "Oh...Justine, I—I'm sorry. I...I have to..."

"So," came the silken voice again to her ears. "About that dance..."

Angelique looked up hesitantly again at Raoul, noticing that her father had gone to speak with some other business associates nearby. "Viscomte..." she began softly, "I—I'm afraid that you might be seen as...foolish...if you were to dance with me. You see, I...that is, I—I'm not..."

"Oh...forgive me," Raoul said, surprised. "You are already spoken for?"

"No, it—it's not that, it's just..."

He smiled as if he understood, and spoke to her with a gentleness that she could almost feel on her skin. "Mademoiselle, I have never been one to make my decisions based on the opinions of others. If that makes me foolish, then so be it. I ask you once again, will you dance with me?"

She felt her heart skip a beat. Here is this handsome man, who cares not for his own reputation at being seen with me. Well, at least...not yet. At last, she smiled slightly. "Alright. Yes, I'd be honored. Thank you for asking, Viscomte."

"Please, call me Raoul, Mademoiselle."

She laughed lightly. "Then you shall do the same. My name is Angelique...Raoul."

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A/N: Okay, don't throw rocks at me. I know, I know, no Erik in this chapter. But it was necessary. I hope that you enjoyed it anyway! Somewhere, deep inside me, I still like Raoul. (Oops, did I just say that out loud? Oh, my...). Review, but be nice, please! lol