September 18th 1892: Jacqueline
"What do you mean – M.Erik isn't here?" I repeated faintly, looking at Larisse in confusion.
We were sitting in the kitchen with cups of tea in front of us, filling each other in on what had happened today. Antoinette was upstairs with Philippe, who had been very happy that his sister had come home to play with him. The cook had told me that he had been alone with her since before noon, growing more bored by the minute. Even seeing his sister seemed to have been a nice change.
"He left in the morning," Larisse replied. "A while later, Madame's friend Mme.Tavoire arrived, and they left together. Madame said she'd be back before noon to fetch Philippe, for they were invited to lunch at Mme.Tavoire's house. Yet neither she nor M.Erik have shown up. Do you think something happened to them?" She peered anxiously over the egde of her cup as she brought it to her lips.
I watched her as she drank, finding the signs of distress in her slightly alarming. It was clear that she had desperately tried to disguise her feelings in front of the child, lest she made him worried as well, yet now they were more obvious than ever. I didn't blame her. If I had known before that Madame and M.Erik were missing for hours, I'd have been in the same state. I was almost a little glad that I hadn't known it.
"Something is definitely wrong," I said slowly. "M.Erik wouldn't leave the house unprotected for such a long time, and Madame wouldn't leave Philippe alone if she had promised him to be back soon. Do you know where they wanted to go or what they were planning to do?"
"M.Erik didn't say anything to me," she answered. "Yet since Madame told me that she had to go to the opera to help him look for something, he must have gone to the opera as well. But I… I don't think…" Her voice trailed off as she looked down into her cup.
"You don't think what?" I prompted gently.
"I think that might not have been the truth," Larisse all but whispered. Then she bit her lip, apparently mortified by what she had dared say. "I know it's wrong to assume such things about the person I'm working for," she went on hastily. "Please don't tell Madame!"
"Of course I won't tell her," I assured the cook. "What makes you think she might have been ly- not telling the truth?" I finished quickly as I saw the expression on her face.
"Well, Madame seemed to be a little upset," she said. "It was as if she knew there was something wrong, but didn't know what exactly it was. Besides, don't you think it's a little peculiar that Mme.Tavoire comes to fetch Madame, just because M.Erik lost something? Why couldn't he ask her about it later, when he'd see her anyway?"
"Those are good questions," I muttered. "The whole story just doesn't make sense. If they only wanted to search for something, why couldn't Philippe come with them?"
"What do you think has happened?" Larisse asked me.
I didn't give an immediate reply. I couldn't tell her into which direction my thoughts had just been straying. There was a certain activity that children shouldn't be present at. But then, that would have hardly taken several hours, not when they knew Philippe was waiting at home. Neither Madame nor M.Erik were that thoughtless.
"Oh, I don't know," I answered in a would-be casual voice. "It was just a silly thought."
"Maybe we should alert the police," the cook said pensively. "We could send them a message."
"And what would you tell them?" I wanted to know. "Two grown-up people, missing for a couple of hours, in broad daylight… it hardly sounds alarming, does it?"
"Yes, but if we explained the special circumstances as well – " she argued, but I interrupted her.
"We can't explain the circumstances. We all agreed on not going to the police. So we can't do it now, without even asking for permission. It could cause a catastrophe, and it would be our fault."
"A catastrophe?" she murmured. "But how? What would the police do, except looking for them?"
I was about to answer when I stopped myself. I had recalled just in time that Larisse didn't know who M.Erik had once been. I certainly wasn't the right person to tell her about it. I didn't even know whether it was still important. But if it was, I didn't want to be the one to tell the police who the Opera Ghost was with at the moment.
"I'm not sure what they'd do," I admitted. "Probably nothing. I'm just worried about… about the rumours that could be created if the wrong people hear that the Countess de Chagny vanished with a man who is not her husband." ´Especially if that man happens to be the Phantom of the Opera,´ I added in my head.
"But surely the people working for the police have enough integrity not to talk about such things to anyone," Larisse said.
"Perhaps you're right," I gave back. "But can we really afford to find out? There has to be just one policeman who tells his wife about it. She tells her sister, who tells her neightbour, who…"
"All right," she agreed. "I've understood it. What else can we do, though? I'm tired of waiting. I've been doing nothing else all afternoon. The kitchen has never been this clean before."
Looking around I saw that she was right. Every surface in the room was shining like a highly polished silver plate. The dishes were done, and the food for dinner was standing on the stove. It just had to be heated. Larisse had once told me that cleaning was her way of fighting nervousness, and now I believed it.
"I don't know whether there's something we can do," I muttered. "Even if they're still at the opera… You've never been there. The place is like a maze, with hundreds of rooms in which they could be. And if they're not together, our chances of finding them dwindle further. Besides, I don't think we should leave the house. M.Erik has always been very strict about it. He wouldn't like to have us wander around in the opera."
The cook nodded.
"I don't think it would be good to leave the children alone either," she agreed. "Philippe is already anxious because his mother hasn't come back yet. It wouldn't be right if we frightened him further by leaving as well. But maybe… maybe we could send a message to the opera, saying that Madame and M.Erik should come home."
"That's a good idea," I said slowly. "But what if the messenger can't find them either? Do you want him to search the opera instead of us?"
"Of course not," she replied. "Madame left with Mme.Tavoire, didn't she? So Mme.Tavoire will know where she has gone. Perhaps she has seen M.Erik as well."
"So we'll send the message to Mme.Tavoire, who shouldn't be that hard to find," I finished her thought. I began to like her idea more and more by the minute, especially since there was no risk for us involved. "Very good. Who can we use as a messenger? Jacques?"
"No. He has gone to bed after lunch, and I haven't seen him since," Larisse told me. "He'd never say so, but I think all the driving yesterday was too much for him. It wouldn't be nice to wake him up now, just to send him to the opera. And he'd have to walk there, too, because we don't have a coach at the moment. Gabriel would surely be a better choice."
I agreed with that assessment. Moreover, Jacques was another one of the people who shouldn't know that Madame and M.Erik were missing together. I didn't want him to get the wrong kind of ideas.
"Gabriel should be here soon," the cook informed me. "He's in the stable, grooming the horses, but knowing him, I'd say he'll come inside for a glass of water before long."
And, sure enough, she had hardly finished her sentence when the back door was opened and Gabriel came in, sweaty, his shirt and trousers covered in hair… and still a disturbingly attractive sight. Throwing that inappropriate thought out of my head quickly, I filled him in on what we'd like him to do, while he emptied a glass of water.
"That shouldn't be a problem," he said. "I wanted to give Etoile the chance to stretch her legs anyway. It'll do her good, and I'll be back before dinner." He threw a hopeful glance in the direction of the stove. He either wasn't too worried about Madame and M.Erik or managed to hide it well.
Hastily I wrote a few lines on a piece of paper, and a minute later Gabriel had left again. Personally, I didn't care whether it was his worry or his appetite that urged him on, as long as it made him ride quickly.
Larisse offered me another cup of tea, but I shook my head.
"I'll better go and see what the children are doing," I told her. "Antoinette sometimes has dangerous ideas when she's bored."
"I'll come with you," the cook decided. "I don't want to sit here all alone."
We made our way through the corridor quickly and had just reached the staircase, when there was a knock on the entrance door. We exchanged anxious glances.
"Madame and M.Erik have a key," I whispered. "But maybe Gabriel forgot something. We locked the back door behind him."
"I'll just open the door a little," Larisse murmured.
We appraoched it on tiptoe, and she pushed down the handle, opening the door a mere inch or two. I craned my neck to see something, yet since we were about the same height, I couldn't look over her. But there was no mistaking the blood-curling scream she let out.
"Madame!" she cried." Oh my God!"
She sank to her knees, and I had a clear view on the body lying on the steps. My stomach turned.