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: This is it, the last chapter! I hope that everyone enjoyed the story, and will stick around for my next one! Thanks so much for the reviews and private messages; I really appreciate all of the feedback you've given me. You all make my day, and help me to write for your reading pleasure. Thanks again, and I hope to see you at the next story!
Epilogue: Ten Years Later:
"Adrianna, Edmund, don't run in the house!" I called to my children.
The pitter-patter of their little feet halted immediately, then picked up again, though a bit slower this time. Shaking my head with a sigh, I couldn't hold back the tiny laugh that escaped my mouth. Children are only young once, but if Eddy broke another vase, there would be hell to pay.
Looking at the book in my lap, I couldn't help but remember the day Erik had announced that he wanted to move to England. I had been thrilled, of course, and when I had told my grandmother the news, she had immediately come up with a plan for us. As an unexpected wedding gift to me and Erik, my grandparents decided to give us one of their homes out in the countryside.
Needless to say, Erik and I had been shocked, though me especially, since I recognized the property being offered. It was a large home of nearly three levels, though most of the third level space was to accommodate the ground floor ballroom. On the first floor, there were two parlors (one for private use and one for entertaining guests in), as well as two dining rooms (which had the same private and public purposes). There was also a kitchen, a library, and (to Erik's pleasure) a music room.
The second floor was, of course, made up of bedrooms, of which there were seven. The largest was for the master and mistress, and the others could be used for children or guests. There was also a section which held the servant's quarters, as well as a few tiny stairwells for the maids or butlers to use in order to quickly do their chores on the second floor.
However, what I remembered most about this house, called Rose Hall, were the rose gardens that it had behind the manor. Rose Hall had at least a dozen different varieties of roses, all carefully tended to by hardworking gardeners, and the entire property smelled like heaven during the spring and summer. There was even a small hothouse where a few bushes grew, just so the interior of the house could have roses decorating it all winter long.
The gift of Rose Hall to us was a shock, but once Erik managed to recover his senses, he was able to send a message to Nadir. In the note, Erik explained that we were going to remain in England, and that the Persian and his servant, Darius, were free to come and visit any time they wished, once we had settled in. My husband also explained the need to have the caves under the Populaire emptied of its contents, all of which was to be neatly and carefully packed and shipped to us here in England.
"After all, I highly doubt that your grandmother will let us keep the furniture that is in there," Erik muttered as he wrote.
As it so happened, Grandmamma did, in fact, allow us to keep the furniture, but made sure to state that there was still plenty of room left for our own personal pieces in the house. "Besides, your Grandfather and I hardly ever stayed at Rose Hall in the past, so it really isn't that well-furnished," she said with an imperial wave of her hand. "Feel free to decorate it as you will."
This relieved Erik, as it took one thing off of his mind. The need for more furniture, however, reminded him that all of his funds would have to be transferred to England, which would take time. Much paperwork had to be filled out and/or signed by Erik, so there was a mad trail of envelopes and letters being sent between England and France for several weeks.
As Erik and I waited for our possessions and money to arrive, we remained at my grandparents' home just outside London. Erik became close to my family, and, amazingly enough, was very popular with the children. All of the little ones wanted Cousin Erik to sing them songs, teach them ventriloquism, or to make shadow puppets on the walls with a lantern in the dark. It was sometimes hard to pry them from him at the end of the day, and I could see the longing for children in Erik's eyes each time the last child disappeared out the door.
Six months later, Erik and I moved all of our newly-arrived possessions into Rose Hall, the welcoming golden brown house embracing us like a warm hug the moment we entered it. The furniture from our bedroom in Paris was moved to the master suite, replacing the original bed and wardrobes. The couch was moved to the private parlor, and Erik's organ (which Nadir had somehow managed to ship here undamaged) was set up in the music room beside the piano.
The final touch of ours was the artwork. Since it had not often been lived in, Rose Hall severely lacked any artistic touch. Besides the warm color of the hallways, there were no real paintings or decorations anywhere. Erik quickly remedied that, putting the busts of famous composers in his music room and in the entry hall so that people knew a composer and music-lover dwelled here. Paintings of flowers, houses, and Greek or Roman gods and goddesses were hung about the walls, giving the house a feeling of artistic atmosphere.
Our home finally furnished and decorated with our own things, Erik and I were able to fully settle down into our new house. The timing was perfect, for it was during our third month of living in Rose Hall that I discovered that I was with child.
"Adrianna, give it back!" yelled Erik, his voice carrying into the library.
I chuckled. Our 9-year-old daughter loved to test her abilities at frustrating her father and five-year-old brother, though she knew better than to try anything with me. Erik sometimes claims that I can be as intimidating as my Grandmamma, when the need arises. This was one of those cases, so I set aside my book and went in search of my mischievous daughter. Fortunately, I did not have to look very far, as she was running past the library as I was coming out of it.
"Adrianna, you give your father back whatever it is you took," I said firmly, stopping her in her tracks. "You have caused enough trouble today as it is."
Addie nodded her head and turned back to the music room, her hands clutched tightly around the roll of paper she had taken. I heard Erik scold her, which was followed by her apology. A moment later, she was being scooted out of the room, the door closing and locking behind her.
"Addie, why don't you go play with your brother?" I said. "Papa's busy writing another opera, and I have some reading I would like to do."
Again she nodded, and then ran upstairs to the playroom she shared with Edmund. Erik and I had been forced to convert one of the guest rooms into a nursery, as the house didn't have one, but it was no loss. None of my family members stayed here for long when they visited, mostly because all of them lived only an hour's carriage ride away. In fact, some of the guest rooms were no longer bedrooms any longer; two of them had become Erik's craft rooms, which were his safe-havens away from the children. There he could craft sculptures or paint without the children interrupting him.
However, before I could return to the library, our butler, Thomas, intercepted me. "Mrs. Renault, you have visitors."
Thomas was a tall, dignified man with white hair, and had come with the house (as did all our other servants). Although he looked rather snobbish, Thomas was a kind man who was married to the round and cheerful Hilda, who was in charge of the cooking and the kitchen of Rose Hall.
"Who is it, Thomas?" I asked, puzzled, as we were not expecting any of our friends from London, nor any of my family members.
"A Mr. and Mrs. De Chagny," Thomas replied.
My heart sank. They had found the nerve to visit us at last, though I should not have been surprised.
Years ago, when Adrianna had turned five and when Edmund was a year old, Erik had decided to try and present some of his opera compositions to the London Opera House. There he had met with great success, and with that success came the need to purchase a London house, where we had been obliged to spend a social season or two a year, meeting and mingling with numerous people who all wanted to become friends with the up-and-coming composer, Erik Renault.
But Erik, thanks to his many years of watching the Populaire's employees' dirty dealings, could smell a false friend instantly, so a great deal of the snobbish aristocracy were merely kept as polite acquaintances. Anyone with true interest in music and/or art was let into the close circle of friends that Erik and I already had, most having been introduced to us through my family members. And since gossip is part of having friends, it shouldn't surprise me that word of a masked French composer in England drifted back to Paris, where most of our friends had their summer homes.
As it so happened, one of our friends was acquainted with Christine and Raoul de Chagny, and when the Count and Countess learned where Erik was, they immediately asked our friend to take a letter to England, a letter which bore my name on the front. I had received the message with a sense of annoyance, knowing what it said before I even opened it.
Inside was a plea from both Christine and Raoul, begging me to "leave that monster while I still could." I had written a carefully worded reply, keeping it as polite as I could while telling of my love and devotion to my husband. I then told the de Chagnys that, if they all they wished to discuss in every letter they sent to me was my marriage to Erik, then they could save their paper and ink. After that, the letters came a few more times, all of them through the friends I shared with the Count and Countess, but after two years, they stopped. Now, four years, later we had been without word from the de Chagnys, and it had been a peace that I'd hoped would never end.
'Apparently they now want to try the face-to-face approach.' I groaned inwardly while signaling Thomas to let our guests in. I quickly went into the parlor meant for entertaining guests, which overlooked the rose garden in the back of the house, and stood before one of the couches.
I had barely taken my place when my guests were shown in. Christine was lovely, as always, with her curls and fair skin set off nicely by the blue gown she wore. Raoul had his chin-length blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and wore a blue coat over a white shirt and black pants. I gave them a polite nod and rang the bell for tea and refreshments before taking a seat, the Count and Countess automatically taking the couch across from me.
Tea was served by one of the maids, and I poured and served it according to the desires of my guests. Several moments of silence and awkward glances passed between myself and the de Chagnys, and after most of my cup was emptied, I decided to be straightforward. Besides, I did not want Erik or the children to see them here.
"Please forgive my boldness, Monsieur and Madame, but I would like to know why you are here," I said while pouring more tea into my cup. "If you are here to warn me again about how my husband will murder me in my sleep, you have wasted your time and money coming here, for I will not listen to such nonsense from you again."
Christine answered before her husband did. "We are merely worried for you. Surely it is not so wrong of us to feel concern for you."
I sighed and set the tea pot down rather roughly. "Madame Countess, how many times must I tell you that I am not going to leave my husband for what he did in the past? Erik has been able to start his life over here in England, and you have no idea how long he has prayed for such a gift. We have a wonderful life together, and we are happy, so please just leave us be!"
"But-"
Whatever Christine had to say was cut off by the shouts of my children. The door, which had been left partially open by the maid, now flew completely open as my son and daughter raced in, Edmund chasing Adrianna in an obvious game of "chase". Silently thanking God for the interruption, I held my arms out to Addie, who immediately launched herself into the safe haven they provided. Edmund stopped in his tracks, a pout on his lower lip.
I smiled. "Shame on the two of you, interrupting Mummy as she's entertaining guests!" I scolded in a playful tone of voice. "Now, stand straight and say 'hello' to the Count and Countess de Changy, as they have come all the way from Paris to see us."
As Adrianna and Edmund remembered their manners and bowed/curtseyed to our guests, I could see the stunned looks written on Christine and Raoul's faces. They could see how much my children had taken after their father, sans his facial deformity. Both my son and daughter had their father's nearly-black hair, as well as his green eyes and facial shape. However, Adrianna's face was softer and more delicate, while Edmund would no doubt be the exact image of his father when he grew up.
"Very good," I said after my children had risen from their bow and curtsey. "Now, run along and finish your letters to Great-Grandmamma. You know how much she likes getting them."
Obedient as always, Adrianna grabbed Edmund by the hand and dragged him up to their nursery, the de Chagnys and I watching as they left and shut the door quietly behind them. Relieved at the unintended (but much welcomed) intrusion, I turned once more to face my guests. The shock on the de Changys' faces hadn't diminished, and if I had not already been so frustrated by their visit, the looks on their faces would have been amusing. As it was, I barely had my civil manners in hand, and no longer wished for them to be in my house.
"Will that be all, Monsieur and Madame de Chagny?" I asked, my voice still polite in tone. If it had not been for my grandmother's lessons in propriety, I would have rudely told them to leave right then and there.
Christine looked at the door with what appeared to longing and envy. "They are beautiful children," she whispered. "You are fortunate to have them so good and so well-behaved."
I barely managed to hide my surprise at her comments, though my pride in my children clearly showed. "Thank you, Countess," I said. "That is kind of you to say."
Raoul cleared his throat. "Well, it appears that we have made a wasted trip out here to the countryside," he declared; I could clearly hear the note of complaint in his voice. "Come, Christine, we still have much to do in London before we return to Paris."
The two quickly stood from the couch and Christine put her hand in her husband's as he swiftly led her out the door. Their cloaks were soon wrapped around their shoulders, but the moment that their carriage arrived, I realized that I had something to say to the Countess.
"Monsieur, I would like to speak privately with your wife, if I may. It will not take long."
He nodded to his wife, gave me a polite bow of farewell, then turned and walked out the front door towards the carriage. Left alone with the Countess, I gave her my full attention.
"Christine, I saw the look you gave my children," I said accusingly. "I also know what it meant." She paled, but I ignored that. "I think that you actually wish that you had accepted Erik fifteen years ago, when you were first down in the cellar with him!" My eyes narrowed. "It's true, isn't it? You envy me for marrying Erik and having his children!"
Her eyes darkened slightly. "I was foolish back then," she admitted with reluctance. "I was young and did not understand what he wanted or what he was offering me. It was only after I'd married Raoul that I realized that the love I shared with him was a pale golden love compared to the fiery, passionate one that I had been offered.
"The minute I saw your children, I realized the future I could have had with my Angel, one with a passion that I do not have with Raoul. Erik, as you call him, awakened something inside of me, something that frightened me, and so I chose the man who could give me a safe sort of love. It wasn't until it was too late that I recognized the burning emotions in my heart for what they really were."
The Countess sighed. "I cannot, and will not, name the emotions that still flare inside me, for if I do, I might do or say something I will regret. If I could go back, perhaps I would choose differently."
I shook my head. "Erik would not let you," I flatly replied. Christine glared at me, surprised and offended. She would have spoken, had I not stopped her. "Erik would not have kept you with him, or if he had, he would have seen you are you really are: naïve and slow to realize what you want and to act upon your choices."
I waved aside her protests. "The moment I realized that I loved Erik, I recognized it for what it was, even though I did not know if he felt the same way for me. If he had not acted on his emotions first, I would have done my best to gather my courage and admit my feelings for him. It would have taken time, but it certainly wouldn't take me fifteen years to admit what I felt. You missed your chance at being Erik's wife, Christine. He is mine now, and I will love him forever, just as you should have."
Without any remorse, I saw Christine's eyes fill with tears as she turned and fled for the carriage, climbing inside without bothering to let the coachman help her in. I heard Raoul's voice, possibly asking what was wrong, and Christine probably replying that she was well and to just go. I had never been so satisfied to watch someone leave in all my life.
"Pardon me, Madame," said Thomas's voice from behind me, causing me to turn and face him. "But your husband is calling for you."
"Thank you, Thomas. If you need either Mr. Renault or myself, we will be in the music room."
"Very good, Madame," he replied with a bow.
I hurried towards the music room, and once I was inside, I felt a pair of arms slide up from behind me, wrapping me in a tight, loving embrace. Warm lips pressed themselves beneath my right ear, causing me to shiver in delight. I was disappointed when they left, but when Erik spoke to me, I went cold.
"I heard what you said to Christine," he whispered.
My heart dropped. "Was I wrong?" I couldn't help asking. "If you had it to do all over again and she had chosen to stay with you, would you choose her?"
Erik's large hands gripped my shoulders and gently turned me around, the palms and fingertips slightly callused from working with crafting tools. I looked up into the loving green eyes and smiling face of my husband.
"If time spun backwards and I had the moment in the cavern to live over again, I would not choose her," he said, the honest gleam in his eyes convincing me of his truthfulness. "Although she might not know it, Christine was, and still is, naïve in her feelings for me. She truly loves her husband, but the feeling she has harbored these fifteen years is, in fact, the want for the 'forbidden.' In a word, Christine wants what she cannot have, and has mistaken it for a buried love she believes she has for me. That is false. I knew, even back then, that the love that Christine and Raoul share with each other is true, for that is what I longed to have with someone and have found with you. You need not fear me running to her at any point in the future."
"Good, because if that happened, I would run after you and hit you in the head with one of Hilda's frying pans so I could drag you back," I declared while wrapping my arms around his neck.
Erik chuckled, leaning down to press his lips to mine in a passionate kiss. A while later, we separated, breathing hard to catch our breaths. Erik's mouth hovered over mine as though to kiss me again, but he and I both knew that if he did, we would probably do something scandalous on the music room floor. To keep that from happening, Erik began a topic of conversation as he led me towards the door and then up the stairwell.
"I heard from your father today," he said as we began the ascent up to our bedroom. "Apparently he and your Uncle Gregory are retiring from the Populaire. They and Gregory's family are returning from Paris within the next few months and wish to visit."
"I'll be sure to have the guestrooms prepared by then," I said as we opened the door to our suite.
Hours later, we were in the parlor, wrapped in the beauty that was our family. Outside, an owl hooted in the tree as night descended, the darkness held at bay by the fire in the marble fireplace and the lamps on the walls. Sighing, I looked around the room in bliss. This was where I was meant to be: here, in the parlor with my husband while our children played on the rug by the fire. Christine had been a fool to run away from all of this, but if she hadn't, I would not be here in her stead. In the end, perhaps I owed her a debt of gratitude for letting both Erik and I have this chance at happiness.
As Erik looked over at me, green eyes dancing with joy and love, I felt my heart soar. One woman's choice had nearly ruined him. Mine was the one that saved him, bringing a lost soul out of loneliness and into a world of family and acceptance. We were happy, and that was all that mattered.
AN: The end! Please review!