Disclaimer: I do not own "Think of Me".
A/N: Here's the chapter that I'm sure you're all are waiting for! Thank you Halley for a great job and please don't forget to review!
Chapter 27: The Masquerade Ball Part 1
Waiting.
Standing in the center of the standing stones, she stood and waited.
Waiting… for him.
"Stephanie it's time!" Maddy called, shaking the young woman out of her daze. "We mustn't be late!"
Stephanie blinked, the remnants of her daydream fading as the present came marching down on her. The ball!
Both women lost track of time, having too much fun putting the finishing touches of their costumes and masks together. It was funny how close the two became from a short amount of time. Stephanie did like Lizzie and Charles fine, but Maddy was different. She knew who she was, refusing to let anyone dictate the correct decorum that Etienne was determined to follow. Her husband encouraged her to speak freely and he held no power over her like most men of the time. In fact, Stephanie noticed that in all of the Destler siblings and spouses. There was no resentment in the marriages. Only love and adoration.
What I wouldn't give for that, she thought sadly as she and Maddy hurried down the stairs to the awaiting hansom. The rest of their party already left, leaving them, Erik, and Maddy's husband.
Stephanie allowed her eyes to sweep over Erik as they reached the bottom. Age made no difference—he was smokin'. He was incredibly handsome in his black ensemble and ivory face mask, which revealed his strong chin and mouth. She grinned in an impish manner; she couldn't help but poke a little fun.
"I see you're reliving the old glory days," she said.
Erik, dramatically, twirled his cape, a smirk playing. "Guilty as charge." He made his own look over towards her and chuckled. "And you, my dear, are ravishing."
Stephanie was dressed to be a Spanish maiden. The mask she wore, she called it her "Zorro's mask" and all she needed was a sword, whip, and horse. Madeleine had laughed, picturing Stephanie riding on a black steed, wielding a rapier as she headed to the opera house.
"But she can't compare to meine Taube," Johannes exclaimed, taking his wife into his embrace.
Maddy was going as Cleopatra. Her outfit was a fine cream silk tied by a matching sash around her waist; kohl was layered underneath her indigo irises, lips painted a deep scarlet. She wore a necklace of rubies, ruby teardrop earrings, and a multitude of rings on her fingers. Her mask was that of a feline, covering half of her face. Johannes was her Marc Anthony, looking very strapping in his armor and cape.
Erik turned to Stephanie, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
"Your public awaits."
xxXXxx
So far the party was tedious… to Etienne that is.
He was one of the first to leave the house, avoiding any temptations that might result him traveling with the mismatched-eyed beauty. He had acted like a buffoon that night, a few days ago, and only allowed himself the privilege to see her during their final lessons.
Etienne had no doubt she would do wondrously tonight.
Draining down another glass of punch for the umpteenth time, Etienne filled his glass once more and went to stand behind the pillar. He watched the guests enter; he heard the usual chatter of politics, gossip, the opera, and general nonsense.
He already conversed with several of the Populaire's backers about the new season, in hope to take his mind off of Stephanie.
Yet that was an endeavor that was destined to fail, hence the multiple drinks. And to his slight put-off mind, too early for such indulges.
"What are you doing sulking behind the pillars?" a young voice inquired.
Startled, Etienne peered down at his cousin, the Vicomtess Annette de Chagny. "Annette. It's you."
She frowned, her head tilted towards him. "Is that the proper way to greet your favorite cousin?"
"And only," he reminded her with a wry grin.
"Exactly!" she declared, her blue eyes glittering in mirth. Annette was a beauty, Etienne was shocked to admit, and she would make any man proud as his wife. But to him, she would always be the playful little brat constantly getting into trouble.
Annette was like her mother in every way possible. She inherited her delicate, porcelain features, baby blue eyes, and doll-like pink lips. Only her champagne curls were handed down by her father. However, she had the body of a dancer and the fondness for it; an interest Raoul clearly frowned upon. As a Vicomtess, she couldn't be on the stage. But that didn't stop her mother from teaching her and her dreaming to be a dancer one day.
How fitting for her to come as a ballerina. Etienne was sure his uncle wasn't pleased about it.
"Is Uncle Erik here? Father wanted to introduce him to some future investors," Annette told him, as her eyes searched for her tall relative.
"No, no. He will be here shortly," Etienne answered.
"Hmmm." Glancing upwards at her cousin, her countenance became coy. "My parents told me you have a pupil singing in my uncle's honor. How come you didn't tell me?"
"It was short notice." Etienne sighed.
"I can't wait. Do you think your father will hire her? A new singer might brighten things up. I don't mean any disrespect to my aunt, of course."
Stephanie hired? God, I hope not for my sake. He feigned a smile. "That would be nice."
Taking the cup in his hands, he gulped the rest of the contents and breezed past Annette for more.
"Etienne!" she cried, dashing after him. "Are you all right? You seem agitated."
"I? I'm good," he replied as he practically drowned the glass into the punch bowl. "Shouldn't you be welcoming the guests with your parents?"
"How delightfully droll," Annette scoffed. "I was until I saw you. I wanted to be around someone I can tolerate longer than a few minutes."
"True but you have to get use to it," he reprimanded her gently.
"I know." Annette sighed. "I wish I was as tenacious as Maddy, but I must remain obedient and loyal towards my family. And I suppose it's not all so bad. I do meet interesting people; even though the ones here are dutiful dull."
Etienne smirked and shook his head. At that very moment, Raoul de Chagny was announcing the honoree and his family. Etienne couldn't bring himself to look while everyone turned to cheer for the owner.
Annette eagerly grabbed his hand, overcome with excitement. "Oh I see them! My uncle has come as the Phantom!"
Etienne did look as Erik Destler took off his fedora to bow. Christine had come over to stand beside her husband, her beaming façade gazing proudly up at him. She was breathtaking, an angel in disguise, in her pristine gown of white and a pair of wired wings in a white gauze and silvery splendor. Her chocolate tresses were wound up and held by a glittering tiara of diamonds, and a golden white mask covered around the eyes and nose.
Annette gasped in awe. "She's beautiful! And that girl… is that your student Etienne? She's lovely."
He bit his lip, silently cursing his sweet, innocent cousin. Once she mentioned Stephanie, he had no choice but to look himself. His eyes shifted to the left of his parents, the air in his lungs suddenly vanished.
Heart pounding, he stared at the most handsomest of goddess' he ever beheld.
Her three-layered dress was a sunset on a summer's night—a mix of reds, oranges, and a pinch of golden yellow. Her auburn locks were curled and left to hang loose over her pale shoulders, a silk of ebony tied across her eyes to finish her visage.
He couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away, his breathing becoming short and quick as an enchanted smile bloomed on her full crimson lips. A surge of warmth went through his limbs, stirring his blood.
It didn't help Etienne's predicament at all as his eyes drooped down to the swell of her chest, cushioned comfortably by her bodice. The heat flowing in his veins was burning, his mind flooded of forbidden thoughts and fantasies. Desire, so strong, nearly physical engulfed his senses.
He had to look away. He had to calm himself, lest his cousin should find him in such a state. But… the object of his love somehow found his eyes among the rest of the crowd, locked by the intensity of his smothering stare. A dab of pink touched her flushed cheeks.
Annette paid close attention to her cousin. Seeing his reaction to the woman next to her aunt, her question was answered.
"Excuse me Annette," Etienne said his timbre deeper and huskier. He reached for his glass and downed it.
It's going to be a long night…
xxXXxx
Stephanie couldn't believe how grand and beautiful the Populaire was. The movie gave the impression but didn't do it justice as she looked up and around the foyer. Like in the film, the orchestra was in the balcony above the stairs, overlooking the platform where a grand piano stood. That was where she and Etienne would perform.
Taking a deep breath, she couldn't believe the ocean of masks and gaudy costumes. There was a good five hundred, give or take, and she would have to sing in front of them.
Please, God, don't let me make a fool of myself, she prayed.
"Mlle Larson is that you?"
Behind her, Stephanie recognized it to be none other than the Comte. His attire wasn't at all surprising—an officer of some kind. Still playing the hero, she thought as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing outright in his face.
"Comte." She gave a tiny curtsy.
"How marvelous you are! I trust you will be careful with all the young men around," he teased. "They're all rogues, even the honest ones."
His head was tossed back as he laughed, like what he said was a joke. To be polite, Stephanie laughed along with him, albeit quietly. "I'll make sure to remember that. You and the Comtess did a gorgeous job putting everything together for Erik. This means a lot to him, even if he doesn't act it."
"Don't I know it. And thank you. But the evening won't be complete until you and my nephew have sung for these good people."
Stephanie nodded, her nervousness rising in her belly. "I'm looking forward to it Comte."
"Please call me Raoul," he insisted, patting her shoulder. "We're all friends now."
"Yeah." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "So, um, Raoul when will I perform?"
"Quite soon. But first I must make my speech. Good luck."
"Thanks," Stephanie mumbled as Raoul walked past her to head up the stairs.
"Hmm. Fancy running into you." A snide voice mocked her.
Oh no. It can't be… Stephanie rolled her head to the right and her worst fears were confirmed. It was Jeanette but any retort was erased as she gaped at the girl's outfit. Never in her whole life had she seen anything so… hideous.
The gown was an off white color with large gray-speckled feathers sticking out from behind. Even the mask, which was gray, had feathers sprouting off the top!
Smirking haughtily, Jeanette laughed. "Dazzling isn't it? I always figured myself to be a swan."
"A swan?" Stephanie choked. "Believe me. That wasn't what I had in mind."
The blonde sneered but she had no chance to rebuke for Raoul was gathering attention to the "stage".
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Raoul announced in a boisterous tone. "Welcome patrons and music-lovers for attending this wonderful event in honor of Paris's finest musicians—Erik Destler!"
Cheers and applause ensued as Raoul clapped loudly for Erik, who stood nearby with Christine holding his hand.
"M. Destler has given his energy and dedication to make this theatre come alive. His works along with the talents of his wife and son have been the solid structures to make this effort possible. Without them, there could not be an Opera Populaire or any theatre like this! Let's raise our glasses and toast to the finest composer in this lifetime ever to exist. To Erik Destler!"
Tears of joy sprung in Erik's eyes as a wild ovation broke out. Stephanie whooped for him, her love and admiration for this man glowing. He did it! By God, he did it!
Christine kissed her husband and nudged him to say something. Clearing his throat, Erik gazed out to the now hushed people.
"Thank you Comte and thank you all for being here and for your support." If it could be possible, his mask was beaming by the second. "I'm virtually at a loss for words. Many of you cannot know how much this means and I wouldn't be here were it not for my wife, my family, and a dear friend who never stopped believing in me. Not even once. The credit goes to them as much as it does for me."
More applause came. "And I would like to introduce my son, Etienne Destler, and his student, Stephanie Larson, performing 'Think of Me'."
Hearing her cue, Stephanie swallowed the lump in her throat and climbed up the steps towards Erik. Shaking his hand, she whispered. "Thank you Erik."
He grinned and pushed her gently over to the piano where Etienne was already waiting. She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time and felt her control melting away. He was wearing a black suit and his mask was also black, but covering only the right side of his face. His darkened orbs stared back at her, making her feel faint just like she did when she first arrived. Stephanie had some strange feeling that Etienne was watching her, and somehow she knew he was.
"Etienne," she murmured, her voice the barest of whispers.
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and directed her to turn around instead. There would be time later to talk and this he communicated by his gaze.
Stephanie nodded understandingly and turned to face the numbers. Seeing all those masks meant all the eyes were on her, a thousand pair of scrutinizing and judgmental pupils.
Oh my God! Her mind screamed. Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god!
Breathing hard, Stephanie glanced over to Etienne, panic flashing across her features. He saw this and smiled reassuringly, silently telling her she can do this. His confidence and the sincerity of his expression helped her a little. She gave a tiny nod of her head, instructing him she was ready.
Flexing his fingers, Etienne started the start measures, his eyes glued to her, not once faltering in the beat.
Exhaling, Stephanie opened her mouth—
"Think of me
Think of me fondly
When we've said good-bye
Remember me once in a while
Please promise me you'll try
When you find that once again you long
To take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a moment…
Stop and think of me…"
Astonishment swept over the seas of painted visages as her lilting soprano filled the air. Even Erik and Christine were stunned by the vast improvement Stephanie made all those months ago. Erik couldn't have been even prouder.
"We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember
Stop and think of me…
"think of all the things
We've shared and seen
Don't think about the way
Things might have been.
"Think of me,
Think of me waking
Silent and resigned
Imagine me, trying too hard
To put you from my mind
Recall those days
Look back on all those times
Think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day
When I won't think of you…!"
Etienne's ears tingled with pleasure as Stephanie held out the note, her voice all in rapture. It was at that moment he made a decision.
"Flowers fade
The fruits of summer fade
They have their season
So do we
But please promise me
That sometimes
You will think…
"Ahahaahaa…of me!"
Stephanie's voice echoed with the final words and all at once the clapping exploded everywhere throughout the theatre.
She stood, shellshock, by the surrealism. Was that me? Are they applauding me?
It was too good to be true…
Looking for confirmation, she found it through Erik, through Etienne, and even through Raoul, whose mouth was hanging open in surprise. She blushed for that was the only natural reaction she could have. Christine mouthed "bravo" and winked at her as Stephanie spotted her.
She was startled by her hand wrapped securely by another and Etienne stared down upon her, his eyes blazing with something she couldn't recognize in her haze of happiness.
Grasping her wrist, he led her in a bow.
Coming up, his grip wasn't ready to let her go just yet as he tugged for her to come.
Still caught in the moment, Stephanie blindly followed, not even realizing he was taking her away from the party.
Reality crashed into her as her back was suddenly pressed against the wall. It was then she noticed the darkness and the taut chest pinning her so intimately.
"Etienne!" she gasped, the air being pushed out of her lungs.
His placed his finger over her lips, shushing her as his warm breath washed over her skin.
"Consequences be damned!" Etienne growled, ripping off his mask and letting it clank on the floor.
Before she could respond, his hot mouth came crashing down on hers.
TBC…
Meine Taube—my dove in German.