Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Phantom of the Opera. (looks around) Erik, get back in the closet before someone finds you! (looks back at readers) Nope, don't own Erik at all…
AN: Sorry about trying to make Christine and Aria "friends." Don't worry, it won't happen. Please enjoy the chapter, and review! Thanks a bunch!
Chapter 23: Comfort:
Tears ran down my cheeks as I raced for the chapel. The moment I arrived at the sanctuary, I threw open the door, ran inside, then shut and locked the door behind me. I did not want any intrusions, and privately hoped that the calm, soothing quiet of the chapel would help calm my anger and nerves. Thankfully, the room was empty, as usual; considering the sinfully indulgent lives workers enjoyed in the Populaire, it was no wonder that this room was rarely used, though it was frequently cleaned.
Sighing, I stood and looked around. The walls held candleholders filled with their lit burdens, and there were clouds and angels painted on every available space. The stained glass window held elegantly-cut images of the Virgin Mary and her Son, Jesus, both of them with golden halos about their heads. Tiny winged cherubs flew about the holy figures, and I couldn't help but sigh at the sight.
Believe me when I say that you far outshine that fair image, my love, whispered a voice into my ear.
I gasped and whirled around, my eyes searching for the source of that voice. To me, it was Erik's voice speaking, but I knew it couldn't be…could it? "Erik?" I whispered aloud, walking around the room as I searched.
Yes, my dear Aria, it is me. I'm here.
"But where?" I demanded, feeling tears swell up as I continued to look for him. "Erik, please, are you really here, or am I losing my mind?"
He must have heard the pleading and desperation in my voice, because a moment later, I watched in awe as a section of the wall suddenly opened as though by magic. One moment it was a solid stone wall, the next minute, a section of an angel's wing and robe had vanished into darkness. Erik silently slipped through the doorway, a look of concern on his handsome face as he reached for me.
Without saying a word, I ran for his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around my body, and we both sighed at being so close once more. I could feel the warmth of his body through his fine clothes, and I smiled at the fact that he wore his wonderful evening attire: a black cloak, a black coat and pants, white shirt, and a deep red-black vest. The dark colors of his outfit made the white of his half-mask glow like the pale moon against the night sky. He was so handsome, it nearly made me faint. Thankfully, I remained conscious, as I felt his chest begin to rumble as he began to speak.
"I thought to comfort you after seeing you run from your rooms earlier. Are you alright?" he whispered into my ear as he pulled me even closer to him.
I sighed and let him hold me. "I'm alright," I quietly replied while nuzzling his coat, noting that he smelled like spice and a masculine cologne. "Father just wishes for me to do something I refuse to do, that's all. I am not usually disobedient to him, but in this I refuse to indulge him."
"What did he want you to do?"
Again I sighed, this time closing my eyes as I inhaled his scent. "He wanted me to become friends with the Countess," I said, my voice filled with disgust at the idea.
For a moment, Erik was silent as he held me. When he said nothing after several minutes, I instantly began to panic. Had I been wrong to mention the Countess, the woman that he had once loved? Would he think that I should not have insulted the woman he had once called an angel? Given his past with the beautiful young soprano, would Erik actually want me to become friends with Christine?
Suddenly, I felt his chest rumble. Looking up into his face, I saw his lips twitch and knew that he was trying hard not to laugh. Pouting, I reached out and gently slapped him on the chest. A low chuckle escaped Erik's wonderful mouth, and to quiet him, I stood on my tip-toes and pressed my lips to his. He froze, but immediately began to kiss me back, his arms pulling me possessively against him, his fingers digging into my back as he held me. We stood that way for several moments, kissing one another as the candles on the walls flickered and danced. For a moment, it was as though we were back in the home by the lake, and all was right in the world. I felt safe and happy, and I was right where I belonged: in Erik's arms. From the grip that Erik had on my body, I knew that he was pleased as to our situation as well.
Just then, the sound of footsteps outside the door reached my ears, and I panicked, pulling away from Erik's lips at the fear of getting caught. He, however, tightened his grip on me, pulling me so close to him that I felt the buttons on his vest through the front of my gown. The footsteps got louder, and soon came to a halt before the door of the chapel.
"I must go," Erik whispered in a hurry. "Continue using the hidden tile for our messages." He paused when I did not let go of him. "I cannot take you with me, not yet. I would rather have your family's approval of our love rather than their anger at my taking you from them once again."
Nodding, I gave him a kiss to tell him I understood. He ended the kiss far too soon for my liking, but gave me a reassuring smile before vanishing into the wall, shutting the hidden passageway behind him. Looking closer, one would never know that there was a door there.
"Mademoiselle, are you in there?" Madame Giry's voice ask through the front entrance of the chapel.
"Yes!" I said, straightening myself out before moving towards the locked door. "Yes, I am here!"
Straightening out her skirt, Antoinette attempted to look like the stern ballet mistress that so many feared and respected. That was rather difficult, though, since she had been listening at the chapel's doorway ever since Aria Craven had shut and locked the door behind her. Actually, Madame felt rather guilty about it, especially since she had resorted to the tricks her dancers used for invading another person's privacy.
On the other hand, it had to be done. She had been worrying about the young woman for days, and whenever Aria left her room, Madame Giry was close behind her. Madame had become suspicious after Aria had left her room and come to the chapel the first time, shutting the door behind her upon entering. Normally, Antoinette wouldn't have suspected anything odd about a young woman visiting a chapel, but she had been worried for the Aria, and had followed her to be sure she was safe.
That first visit to the chapel had proved uneventful. Even after peeking inside to see if Aria was well, Antoinette had seen nothing more than a young woman praying before the image of the Lord. Feeling rather relieved at the sight, Madame had quickly left Aria to her privacy and returned to her rooms to check on Meg and retire for the night.
Today, however, was different. There was anger and frustration in the way that Aria had left her room, and Madame found herself following close behind. Again, Aria led her straight to the chapel, and so, keeping her footsteps light and nearly undetectable to the listening ear, Madame Giry followed behind her young charge. Again, the door closed, but this time, there was the distinct 'click' of the lock being put into place, and with that sound, Madame instantly grew alarmed. Pressing her ear to the hole in the lock of the door, she listened for any suspicious sounds inside.
Within moments, Antoinette heard voices, one of them undoubtedly Aria's. The other, however, was most definitely male. The male voice was too low to understand, but it was clear that Aria Craven found her male visitor a comfort to her sorrows. Did the girl have a suitor that no one knew of, not even her father or uncle? It was highly unlikely, since the Cravens hadn't been in Paris long enough for Aria to have found a suitor in the first place. So who was it inside the chapel with the daughter of one of the Opera House's owners? Peering in through the little keyhole, Antoinette had to hold back a gasp of surprise.
There was Aria Craven, wrapped in the arms of the Phantom of the Opera!
Too shocked to move, Madame Giry sat before the keyhole and watched as the two kissed and whispered soft words to one another. If she were to look at it differently, it was a rather sweet and romantic sight, but at the present time, it was shocking. So, keeping a grip on her tongue, Madame had silently crept away from the door and down the hall a little ways. Once she was a safe distance away, she straightened herself up and walked loudly and purposely towards the chapel's door.
Reaching the closed and locked door, Madame took a deep breath and pressed her ear to the wood. There were a few hurried whispers, so faint that, if she hadn't been listening for them, they could have easily passed for a breeze flowing through the room.
"Mademoiselle, are you in there?" called the ballet mistress.
"Yes! Yes, I'm here!" was the rushed reply from within.
In a moment, the door opened, and there stood a slightly rumpled Aria Craven. Giving the young woman a closer look, Madame noticed a slight sparkle in those brown eyes, a glitter of happiness that Madame hadn't seen since before Aria's disappearance. It was quite the transformation from earlier that day, and quite a pretty one, too. Glancing discreetly over Aria's shoulder, Antoinette noted that there was no one else in the room, even though she had heard two distinct voices coming from within.
'There is only one person who can go to and from a room in the Opera House without leaving a trace of themselves,' Madame thought as she looked back towards Aria's face.
It had been the Ghost in that room, she had seen it with her own eyes. He was the only one who could have been inside the chapel, since he was the only one who knew all of the secret stairways and passages within the walls of the Populaire. Aria had been meeting the Phantom inside the chapel, and from the look in her eyes, Mademoiselle Craven was in love with the masked man.
'Well, if that is the case, I certainly have my work cut out for me!' Madame Giry thought as she hid a smile behind a mask of her very own.
The stern gaze of Madame Giry usually did not have any sort of effect on me. However, today I actually had something I did not wish for her to find out, so needless to say I became nervous when those gray eyes of hers focused on me and nothing else.
"I saw you rush from your rooms, Mademoiselle, and grew concerned," the ballet mistress said, her eyes not moving from my face. "Is there something wrong, something I could help you with?"
For a moment, I was almost willing to accept her offer. Then I remembered that this woman possibly betrayed Erik's secret lair to the Count and Countess de Chagny, and couldn't bring myself to do it. This matter of my return to his home would have to be between Erik and myself, and our trust would only be with each other. Trusting anyone else would surely get us found out.
"No, Madame, I am fine," I said, pulling my shoulders back in order to stand taller. "But I thank you for the offer."
The left eyebrow on Madame's face arched as she grew suspicious. "As you wish. However, if you need anything, you have but to ask."
Once again, I felt the need to ask her if there was a way she could help me escape to Erik, but knew it was impossible. She would no doubt sound an alarm if I suddenly vanished without a trace, and then my father would know exactly who had taken me. Raoul and Christine would probably rush back down to the caves to retrieve me, and then this would start all over again, though there would probably be an increase in protection around me wherever I went. The thought of being so restrained left a tightened feeling in my stomach, and I had to resist the urge to be sick.
"You look terribly pale, Aria, are you alright?" Madame asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Here, let me take you back to your room."
The weight of Madame Giry's arm lying across my shoulders was oddly comforting, so I did not refuse it. Instead, I let her return me to my room and watched her stoke the fire there while she sent a maid for tea and pastries. The thought of sugary frosting and cake chased away my fears for the moment, and as soon as the plate of tiny iced cakes arrived and was offered to me, I grabbed two while Madame poured tea for the both of us.
"There, now, isn't that better?" she asked, sounding so much like my grandmother that I had to look up to be sure it was truly Madame. "I was sure that the food and drink will do you good."
I didn't argue with her. When we had ourselves comfortably situated, I savored the refreshing warmth that flowed through me, thanks to the peppermint tea I had drunk. The tea cakes were gone, and a maid had been sent for more, returning with a plate of cakes and one of cucumber sandwiches this time. Madame and I both relished the taste of the food, and soon we were both so content and full that we felt obliged to exchange conversation. I began with an innocent question, asking how long Madame had been at the Populaire, and what operas she had participated in.
At first, it had been awkward talking with her, but I found myself eager to hear stories of the different operas that she had starred in during her youth, when she had been a ballerina in the Opera Populaire. The look on Madame's face as she reminisced of the costumes and stage decorations was beautiful, and I could easily see why she had become so liked and respected here that she had been asked to stay and become the dance instructor.
'She must have been incredible in order to be asked to stay and teach,' I thought while sipping my tea. 'How many other dancers had come and gone once their youth and liveliness had faded? How many others had been forced to leave when they were of no more use?'
Studying her closer, I saw that, even though Madame had grown older, she was still a beautiful woman. She had aged, of course, but she was strongly attractive and still possessed the ability to dance well enough to demonstrate each and every step she expected her corps de ballet to learn. Most teachers could not even bend their legs or arms into the proper positions at this point in their lives, and the fact that Madame Antoinette Giry still could made me respect her even more.
Just then, the clock on my desk chimed, and Madame turned to look at the time. "Ah, I must go," she said, though her tone was full of reluctance to do so. "I must have the girls down on the stage for rehearsals, or else they will get lazy and forget their steps."
I laughed. "Then you will simply have to knock it into their heads all over again," I said, my own voice light and teasing as I smiled at her.
Madame smiled in return as she set her cup on the tea tray. "As much as I enjoy doing just that, I am afraid that tactic only makes them cry like silly little children," she replied with an exaggerated sigh. "Therefore, I must be off now to prevent certain incidents like that later."
I quickly set my own cup on the table and escorted her to the doorway. "I very much enjoyed tea today," I told her truthfully. "Perhaps we should do this again. I would like to hear more of your stories about your youth here."
Madame's smile grew broader. "And I would be happy to tell them to you," she replied. "Meg has grown tired of all of my tales, and it would be a pleasure to tell them to a new set of ears."
With that, she turned and walked down the hall, leaving me alone in my room, rethinking my decision to not tell her about me and Erik.
As she entered the practice area where the dancers met, Madame Giry found herself in an unusually pleasant mood. Normally she found herself frowning as she met with her students, but today she felt quite good. However, her feelings must have been very noticeable, for her dancers began to take notice of their instructor's relaxed mood and began to be lax in their dance efforts.
Frowning, Madame tapped her rhythm staff on the floor in a hard and vicious manner, causing all the girls to jump fearfully to attention. "You lazy girls! Just because I do not frown at you does not mean you can become limp fish in dance shoes! Get back to your steps at once, and do them properly!"
Ever fearful of their instructor's wrath, the girls meekly and obediently fell into step with one another, just as they always did. For the first few minutes, Madame rapped her staff on the floor to keep time, just to be sure that the girls remembered that, at any moment, she could tap them on the leg or knock their foot into the proper position with the butt of her staff. With the threat of horrible bruises hanging over their heads, the dancers immediately began to improve.
Satisfied, Madame began to divide her attention, one half focusing on the girls, the other on the situation regarding Aria Craven. Antoinette now knew without a doubt that Aria was in love with the Ghost. She had seen the joyful sparkle in the young woman's eyes, and remembered that that exact same spark had been in her own eyes when she had been courted by her now-dead husband. However, Aria's love with Erik was a forbidden love, one that Roland Craven was sure to disapprove.
But the happiness of two people was in jeopardy, and Madame Giry felt obliged to help. She thought very highly of the Ghost who, she knew, protected Meg from the grabby fingers of the stagehands; too many of those violent men had gone missing after attempting to force themselves on Meg to be a coincidence. Now, in order to repay that kindness, Madame would help the Ghost be with the one woman who loved him for the man he was.
The trick, however, would be keeping it a secret, particularly from Aria's father.
AN: Review please!