Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Phantom of the Opera. Only original stuff is mine.
AN: Thanks for all the reviews! Here's chapter two. I hope that people will enjoy reading this and will continue to review! Thanks!
Chapter 2: Surprises All Around:
The night at the theater was precisely what I needed to relax. I had always been awed by the art, the people, and the performers at the theater, all of it coming together to form one perfect evening. The crystals on the chandeliers sparkled above us as Papa led me inside, me happily beaming in my new blue-and-white evening dress, a blue cloak around my shoulders to keep me warm. A doorman took my cloak and I was allowed to mingle with the crowd, alone, my eyes searching for anyone I knew.
"Aria!" a voice said to my left.
Turning around, I spotted the sister-in-law of my Aunt Chris. Her name was also Caroline, and she was a middle-aged, dark-haired beauty; however, unlike other women in her class, she was unmarried and had no desire to be. She came from a wealthy family, though, and they had left her a sizeable fortune after her brother (my Aunt Chris's husband) received his share of the wealth. Even though we weren't related by blood, Carol (as she asked me to call her) was always very friendly and always made me laugh.
"Oh, Carol!" I said, reaching out to grasp her hands. "It's so good to see you!"
She laughed. "Another night to relax yourself?" Carol asked, winking at me. "Did your family visit yesterday?" I nodded. "Well, how is your dear Aunt Chris?"
"She's very well," I replied. "She's working on another art piece with her daughters, and Grandmother wanted to know all about it."
Carol rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Of course she did; she always wants to know what everyone is doing and when."
"Well, she is the family matriarch," I replied with a smile just as my father approached.
"Forgive me, Carol, but my lovely daughter and I must get going," Papa said with a bow and a smile. "Box seats, you know, and they won't open them for us if we're late!"
I quickly exchanged kisses on the cheek with my friend before letting Papa lead me up to our box. I was quickly situated in the chair closest to the stage, and had just pulled out my fan when the lights dimmed. After that, I was immersed in the timeless tale of Romeo and Juliet.
Not long after seeing the play, I noticed that my father and Uncle Gregory were acting strangely. For several months, whenever the family got together, I saw them both go into Papa's office and shut the door, neither one emerging until it was time for Uncle Gregory, his wife, and his two children to go home. Also, they both looked extremely and unusually cheerful.
In all the chaos, no one else in the family saw anything suspicious, but since it was my home and my father's office, I suppose I was the exception. Still, it made me uneasy to think that the two of them were discussing something secretive behind my back. And the fact that they were always so smugly happy tended to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Today was one of those days that they cloistered together, but it was also one of the days where I was left alone to my devices. I was feeling rather tired today, and Grandmother said that she would preside over the entire gathering of relatives. Relieved, I had headed upstairs to my room and shut the door. Now, sitting at my desk with my notebook before me on the desk and a pen in hand, I tried to think of reasons why my father and uncle were meeting so secretly, and yet so openly, with all of the family gathering in just the next room.
'The last time Papa had a secret meeting in his office, it was over the possibility of arranging a marriage for me,' I thought with a shudder.
That had been a particularly trying time, creating a small rift between myself and my father. Four years ago, when I had turned twenty, Papa had decided that I was long overdue for a marriage. He had promised that I would be allowed to wed for love, but I suppose that he secretly longed for me to wed and give him giggling grandchildren (though why he wanted those when he had an existing gaggle of nieces and nephews was a puzzle to me).
Unfortunately, his selection was based on a recommendation made to him by a friend, and I was relieved when Papa met the potential groom before letting his plans move any further!
A general in the British Army, Brandon Fitzwilliam was an older man that was about the same age as my father. I had seen him at a distance, and he wasn't a horrible-looking man; with graying-blond hair, a Roman nose, and a broad smile, he was actually very kind and had a good sense of humor. He had a limp from a previous army battle, but was still in good shape. He was a self-made man, of sorts, and a (ahem) younger son, which left him without a large inheritance, but he was still well-off.
In the end, I probably wouldn't have minded marrying the general, but when Papa realized just how old, exactly, Mr. Fitzwilliam was, he halted the betrothal plans and sent the poor man on his way. Through the local gossip, I heard that Mr. Fitzwilliam had been disappointed, but two years later, he married an elderly widow who was completely smitten with him. I had sent a large bouquet of flowers and a bolt of silk as a wedding gift, since the widow was a friend of Grandmother's.
Sighing, I went over the information I had in my head, focusing on what I knew about my father. When Papa was planning something that involved me, a huge, pleased smile was on his face. There was no smile at the present, but there was a smirk constantly pulling at the corner of his lips, so I knew that whatever it was he was planning involved me somehow.
'And it has to be a very big, grandiose thing, too,' I thought, bringing the end of my pen up to my lips and nibbling at it in thought. 'Since Uncle Gregory looks as smug as Papa does, then it must be very important to the two of them!'
Whatever it was, though, mystified me and was presently giving me a headache. So, putting aside those thoughts, I focused on the newest story unfolding underneath the scribbles of my pen.
Towards the end of the year, just before Christmas, my father called me into his office. I sat down in the proffered chair while Papa put several sheets of paper onto the table before me. Puzzled, I leaned forward to take a better look.
"Feel free to pick them up and look at them, kitten," my father said, his lips pulled into a smile. "Your opinion on the matter is of great importance, and I'm afraid that I will desperately need it."
"My opinion on what?" I asked as I picked up the papers.
One was a lovely drawing of a building, the front standing proud and impressive Greek columns of stone. Graceful arches, tall statues, and intricate stonework decorated the entirety of the building; on the roof was a large dome that sported intricate metalwork and had a statue bearing a golden crown in its hands. The entire roof was covered with magnificent representations of muses, gods, goddesses and winged horses. It was one of the most beautiful buildings I'd ever seen.
"What is it?" I asked teasingly. "You aren't going to build a Grecian temple, are you? Lord knows that no one in the family will like that very much!"
Papa shook his head and laughed. "No, my Aria, it is far more than that." He shoved another sheet of paper at me, though this was an actual document. "It is the Opera Populaire in Paris."
I looked at him in amazement. "The one that burned down five years ago?" my voice asked in a whisper. "The one with the horrid scandal of the madman who fell in love with a singer?"
"The very one," my father said with relish. "Some investors have rebuilt the place at a tremendous cost, and they have sold it to us at less than face-value! Your uncle and I are its new owners!"
Collapsing back into my chair, I stared at him. "You what?" I gasped.
"Your uncle and I have purchased the Paris opera house," Papa said, beaming madly.
"But you don't have the money to buy such a thing!" I protested, my voice growing shrill. "It would cost everything we have to buy that!"
Papa shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "Well, not everything," he said, giving me a hesitant smile. "Your uncle has invested a large share of his fortune into the place, and since he and I have already received our shares of the Craven family inheritance, we decided to increase our wealth through buying the Populaire."
I felt faint. "But…do you have a patron for the Populaire?" I demanded. "A patron is needed to fund the performances! If you've already spent all of our money on the building, then how will we pay for the performances we are to put on?"
Rolling his eyes, my father looked at me as though I were the foolish one on the matter instead of him. "The money we've spent includes paying for the first performance," he said calmly…too calmly. "After the first show is a success, we will have dozens of people willing to patron the opera house!"
Groaning, I buried my face in my hands. How could my father do something as thoughtless as this? All of our money…what would we live on? I asked him this, and Papa assured me that most, but not all, of our funds were in the Populaire; we would still live quite comfortably and not go into debt.
'Not until the first show fails,' I thought bitterly as my father babbled on plans for the first show he was going to have performed there. 'I need to talk to Grandmother about this…surely she can talk some sense into him and Uncle!'
I would have to wait until the next family gathering at our home and hope that it wasn't too late to stop this madness.
"What were you two idiots thinking?" Grandmother yelled, her voice ricocheting off the walls, windows and doors. "Buying an opera house? In Paris? Did I raise two dunderheads who could do something so stupid, both intellectually and financially?"
Seated to her right, I winced and tried to melt both into my chair and into the floor, wishing that my father and uncle wouldn't look at me like that. I sincerely hoped that this confrontation would put some sense into their heads, but Grandmother was turning shriller by the moment, and I knew that the family was gathered outside the closed library's doors, listening in. I could hear skirts whisking back and forth along the floorboards, and the sounds of whispers, clacking shoes and coughs were obvious even through the thick wood of the doors.
Uncle Gregory shifted from one foot to the other as he hung his head and sighed. "Mother, it really isn't a bad investment," he said, his voice taking on a pleading tone.
"Not a bad investment?" Grandmother demanded, blue eyes narrowing. Both of her sons swallowed heavily. "How, exactly, is this not a bad investment?"
Papa spoke first. "I know a great deal about how to run an estate and a business, Mother," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I had taken many such courses at Oxford and had helped to run that shipping business in London before marrying Katherine, so I am not so inexperienced in that."
Grandmother merely glared at him. "And what, exactly, do the two of you know about opera?" she snapped. "Neither one of you so much as go to the theater more than once or twice every few months, much less know what goes on to put a production together!"
"Aria does," Papa stated, looking at me with a small smile. "She's been going to plays and such since she was a little girl, and she was always curious as to what went on behind the stage. I know that Christina's sister-in-law is friends with the theater manager in town, so she managed to get Aria backstage to see everything."
I shook my head. "That was well-over 10 years ago!" I said, looking to spare myself from my grandmother's wrath. "I remember some things, but not all of it!"
A small snort from Grandmother shut us all up. "I have to say that this has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of," she said, glaring from one man to the other. When she turned towards me, I saw affection glimmer in her eyes. "Aria, darling, if your father and uncle do manage to fall into financial ruin, feel free to come and stay with me and your grandfather; you will be most welcome." She leveled a glare at them from the corner of her eye as she rose from her seat.
"Thank you, Grandmother," I said, keeping my voice soft.
"As for you two!" she continued, her blue eyes now the temperature of the ice outside. "If the worst should happen, do not expect me or any of us to save you! It was your money that you wasted, and you will have only that and what you make or lose from your foolish investment! Opera house indeed!"
With that, she immediately turned and left the room, flinging open the doors and stalking off to the parlor, probably for something alcoholic to calm her temper. Meanwhile, Papa and Uncle looked disturbingly pleased, which only managed to worry me more. If Papa came to ruin, I had no doubts that Grandfather and Grandmother would welcome me with open arms; I had something to catch me if I fell. If Uncle failed, though, his wife and two children stood to loose face in society.
"Well, that went better than I thought," Papa commented happily. "I hope you'll be ready for when we leave for Paris in three months."
I sighed and shook my head.
Three Years Earlier in Paris:
Before him lay the ruins of his greatest joy, the one place where he had reigned supreme. Through fear and manipulation, through terrifying notes and actions, and through the invisible-visible presence only he could command did he manage to achieve whatever it was he wanted done. Now all that remained of his kingdom were broken bits of marble and the stench of rotting wood.
Ashes lay scattered at his feet as burned papers flew by in the bone-chilling wind. The sun was setting and winter drew nearer, the harsh, cold air somehow enhancing the smells of fire around him instead of diminishing them. How could such beauty, such glory, be turned into this? Had his heart, his soul, his endless need to be loved and accepted…had he done this to the one haven he'd had on this earth?
'It's gone,' he thought, one hand reaching down to pick up a small piece of flawless white marble, possibly the one thing that was untarnished by smoke. 'It's all gone…'
The sound of men approaching through what had been the front doors snapped his attention back to where he was. Retreating to the shadows of a pillar, he listened in on what was being said.
"Shame, really," a male voice, slightly shrill, said. "It was a lovely building, and the performances were something to be seen!"
"It will be lovely again," a different man commented. "We've got the funds to rebuild it, but that's all. Some rich fool who loves art, music and opera will have to buy it from us at a ridiculous price for us to make a profit."
The first man laughed. "Oh, I've no doubt that, if we bring these plans to the richest lovers of music, there will be someone foolish enough to buy this place. The nobleman will have to be from another country, of course, but no fear! All rich men love art; if they don't, then they surely have a wife, mother, or elderly aunt who certainly does and will persuade the man to buy it at our price!"
Interested in spite of himself, he edged closer to the men, listening to their chatter. One of them pulled out the architectural plans, but a strong gust of wind blew it out of his hands and behind the pillar he hid behind. A quick movement of his hand snatched it from the grasp of the wind, and his gold-flecked green eyes took in what was drawn there.
'How promising,' he thought, smirking just a little. 'Very promising…a few changes here and there, and it will be everything I need to take my place once more.'
The men had left, their voices claiming that their lost drawings were of no importance, merely a copy of the original laying in their offices. He shook his head and tucked the plans into his cloak, thankful that he had brought it with him to ward off the cold.
'I will make the changes and take them up to Antoinette. She will then give these back to the gentlemen with little difficulty and they will find my…improvements quite impressive,' he thought, stopping at the foot of one particular stairway.
A kick of his foot, and a trap door opened. Laughing to himself, he stepped forward and fell, the door closing and locking behind him.
AN: There's chapter two. Reviews keep me and my muses happy!