September 17th 1892: Erik
I had but one moment to consider my options. Lying and saying I was someone else was out of the question. It would have been ridiculous, since my mask gave away who I was. I could have turned on my heel and run away, yet given the fact that I didn't have a coach, I wouldn't have come very far. Besides, why should I have fled? Not even the police was looking for me anymore. Policemen were too busy with their more recent cases to try and solve one that was more than ten years old. The lessons I had taught the chorus girls and other people at the opera in more recent years had never had legal consequences. The managers had learned their lesson as well.
Still a slight nervousness remained as I replied:
"Yes, Monsieur, I am the Opera Ghost.". I forced myself to look straight into his eyes and didn't let my gaze wander over to Meg. I was a little angry at her. Why didn't she do anything to help me? Moreover, why hadn't she told me sooner that her husband might recognise me? I could have stayed outside. It would have saved me all the trouble.
In the next moment, however, my hand was seized and shaken vigorously.
"It's such a pleasure to meet you," M.Tavoire exclaimed in a delighted voice, without a hint of sarcasm. "Meg has told me all about you. Unfortunately I never saw you in person, although it was one of my dearest wishes. I must have always been at the opera at the wrong time. And now you've come to my house. It's such a pleasure."
"The pleasure's mine," I muttered, feeling very confused. Few people were pleased to see me, and I couldn't recall that anyone, except for Philippe, had ever shown such enthusiasm. Now I had to throw Meg a brief glance, just to make sure her husband didn't have problems with his mental health that I didn't know of. Yet she merely grinned at me broadly.
"Jean is one of your biggest admirers," she said. "I don't know how often I've had to tell him the stories about you. He loves hearing them."
"Well, that's hardly surprising, is it?" he defended himself. He gave my hand a last shake, then let go of it. "You see, Monsieur, when I first came to the opera as a new patron, I didn't like it very much. The people there took themselves much too seriously for my taste. And then I heard of you, who told them how to behave if it was necessary, who didn't care whether somebody was a diva or a stagehand. I thought it was about time that someone did that, especially in such an amusing way. Yet when I met a certain little dancer, the opera got a completely new appeal…" He kissed Meg on the top of her head.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she remarked. "When we first met, our only topic of conversation was you, Erik. I don't think he'd have ever invited me to dinner if he hadn't heard that my mother knew more about the Opera Ghost than anyone else."
"If that was correct, I'd have invited your mother to dinner instead of bothering with her terribly spoilt daughter," Jean interjected in a teasing voice. "The next thing you'll tell our guest will probably be that I only married you because I wanted a story-teller in the house, which is far from true. I married you because… because…" He scratched his head pensively, earning a slap on the arm from his wife. "…oh yes, because I love you," he finished quickly, and they kissed again.
Listening to them was fascinating. I had never seen a husband and wife behave like that. Up to now, it had never occurred to me that, in addition to being a couple, they could also be good friends. I wondered how much closeness, how much affection it took to become such a couple. Maybe I'd be able to ask Meg about it one day.
"Why don't we take this conversation to the living room?" M.Tavoire suggested, when the kiss was over. "Surely you must be thirsty after the journey. What is your favourite drink, Monsieur? I'm sure we have it here. I have a very fine brandy, for example. Or would you care for a glass of wine? There's this lovely – "
"I'm sorry, M.Tavoire, but I should better go now," I interrupted his enumeration. It wasn't easy for me to refuse the invitation, for he was a very friendly man, but I couldn't help it. "They're waiting for me at home," I added as an explanation. It was the first time I had referred to the de Chagny house as ´home´, and it felt wonderfully right.
"Surely half an hour wouldn't make that much of a difference," he said. "Now that I've finally met you, I'm not going to let you leave that quickly. You've got to tell me about yourself and those amazing tricks of yours. How did you make the faces of the chorus girls blue?"
The temptation to stay and talk to this man, who seemed to adore me, was getting stronger by the second. I was almost convinced to give in when Meg told him:
"Oh Jean, stop it! Erik really doesn't have enough time now. Think about how worried about were when I didn't come back on time. Do you want to put Christine through the same?".
"No, no," he replied. "I'm sorry, Monsieur. I must have forgotten my manners. I was just a little over-excited about meeting you. Of course you can go whenever you want to. But you've got to promise me that you'll come back. Let's see…" He closed his eyes for a moment, apparently thinking hard. Opening them again he went on: "…yes, tomorrow. Meg has a performance in the evening, and I'm sure you'll be there as well, but what about noon? We could meet for lunch here.".
"That's a very generous offer, but I'm afraid I can't leave Christine and the children alone for such a long time," I muttered.
"Oh, you won't have to leave them alone," M.Tavoire assured me. "Of course I meant to invite all of you. Christine is such a pleasure to talk to, and I always enjoy seeing the children. It's a pity that…" His voice trailed off, and almost subconsciously he let his hand wander over Meg's flat stomach. I understood the meaning of the gesture: He regretted not having children of his own yet. For the first time on this evening, the sparkle in his eyes had vanished.
Meg, whose cheeks had grown pale, was staring at the floor, chewing on her bottom lip. It was exactly the way she had looked as a young girl when her mother had scolded her in front of the other dancers. Seeing that, her husband obviously realised his mistake. He leaned down to her.
"I'm so sorry, darling," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You know I don't blame you. It could be my fault as well as yours. We still have so much time…"
It didn't happen very often that I felt bad about invading someone's privacy by listening to their conversations, but now was one of those occasions. It was clear that he didn't want me to hear what he was saying, and a person with normal hearing surely wouldn't have heard it. I looked into the other direction, pretending to have gone temporarily deaf.
After a few moments, M.Tavoire seemed to recall the fact that they were not alone.
"Anyway," he said briskly. "I believe Raoul won't be able to join us tomorrow. He's in Sweden at the moment, isn't he?"
"Norway," Meg corrected him quietly. She forced herself to smile at me, even though she apparently didn't feel like it. "That's the reason why Erik is living with the de Chagnys."
"Of course," he muttered. "You've just told me about it. It must have slipped my mind… Well, since there doesn't seem to be anything that'll tempt you into staying here, all I can do now is offer you a coach, Monsieur, unless you'd rather walk." We all smiled about his feeble joke.
"Actually a horse would be quite enough," I told him. "I don't need a whole coach, just for myself. I could take the horse back to you when we come to lunch tomorrow. With a coach that would be more difficult." Meg and I exchanged a glance of deep understanding. I didn't feel the urge to repeat the chaos with the coaches and who should drive them that we had had this evening.
"A horse you shall get then," M.Tavoire decided. "If you go to the stable, you'll find one of the servants there. Tell him to give you one of our fastest horses; he'll know which ones you can choose from." He stretched out his hand, and I shook it.
"Goodbye, Monsieur," I said. "And thank you."
"I never thought I'd once give one of our horses to a legend…" he remarked fter he had said goodbye as well. He seemed to be just as cheerful as at the beginning of our conversation.
Meg and I bid each other farewell, too, and I walked over to the stable. As interesting as the meeting with Jean Tavoire had been, it had cost me a lot of time. I could practically hear Christine call for me. ´I'm on my way, love,´ I thought.