"Ze diva is busy, Monsieur, and will see no one." The look of disdain the pudgy man passed towards Erik made it clear that Erik was not suitable to ever entertain such a lady as it were. Erik ran his fingers through his dark hair in a gesture of frustration, turning away from the man to leave. In a last attempt he turned again.
"Tell her it is Erik. She will see me."
The pudgy caretaker huffed and disappeared through the gilded doors leading to Annabel's chamber. He was inside only a moment before he ducked back out again, a smug expression on his round face.
"Ze lady has expressed that she doesn't wish to see you Monsieur. Now, or ever."
The thick accent the man carried was beginning to grate on Erik's nerves, and he grumbled in distrust.
"Anna would never say such a thing, you little..."
Just as he would his fists within the man's collar to give him a sound shaking, a sweet voice from the door interrupted the scuffle.
"Monsieur Mauer, I insist that you release him at once! What gives you the right to accost this man?"
Annabel was standing within her doorway now, and Erik brushed the man aside to step towards her.
"Anna, please forgive me for my absence. It was unforeseen and - ..."
The words trailed off as Erik neared her, one glance into her pretty features causing him worry.
"Have you been crying?"
Annabel felt as though his concern would be her undoing. When he lifted his hand to wipe at the damp trails still upon her cheeks, her first inclination was to allow her eyes to close and tilt her head into his palm. After a moment too brief of this fascinating comfort, she retreated. Her head snapped up as though he had burned her and she stepped back.
"That, Monsieur, is none of your concern." Even if it was your doing. Her voice betrayed her, and trembled.
Confusion clouded Erik's features.
"What is this about, Anna? Why are you being so formal and aloof? Have I slighted you in some way? If you are upset over my absence, please understand..."
Annabel silenced him by lifting her hand.
"It is entirely improper for a lady of my status to be seen with a man of yours," Anna muttered a bit too harshly. The barb had its effect and she could see Erik blanch at her words. Disbelief then filled his gaze. Before he could speak to argue, she continued.
"I do not wish to see you. Now, nor ever. Leave, Monsieur."
Erik stood, mouth agape, staring at the incensed woman as she turned to retreat again into her decadent lodging. How could things have changed so much in the time he was gone. It had only been a matter of hours. Or perhaps days? He was not sure. At any rate, if Annabel had been trying to hurt him she had managed to do so. Her words baited him to anger and he found himself scowling at her closed door.
"So be it," he spat, and then stalked away himself.
Michel was not the most astute person in the world, and often the bubble of euphoria that followed him everywhere clouded his vision to the troubles of others. Tonight was different, however. A blind man could see the anger and frustration that exuded from Erik. From the way he practically slammed his plate onto the table, or roughly tore at his meat with knife and fork, it was clear something was amiss.
"Did something terrible happen, Erik? Where were you for so long, anyway? Everyone was worried!"
Erik snorted in reply. "Who would care?"
"The new diva, for one!" Michel retorted with a grin, thinking it would please Erik to hear of Annabel Lafeyer's interest in him. Erik glanced up quickly.
"You must be jesting."
"Why would I make a joke out of such a thing! She was convinced you were injured and would have had all of Paris in an uproar if she hadn't calmed down when she did. Although, I don't know if she calmed down at all. With the way she stormed out of your room and all..." Michel babbled, pushing his food around on his plate.
"What did you say?" Erik asked quickly, his knife and fork clattering against the table as he dropped them in surprise. "You took her to my room? Are you mad?"
Erik felt humiliated. Surely Annabel had seen where he lived and realized just how low he had fallen. Now she was truly embarrassed to associate with him. Hurt flared within his heart as it had not done in months. Not since his angel...
Michel's voice interrupted his introspection.
"We were so worried. You must understand. We did not stay long, either. Really she glanced at your bedside table and then stormed out. She would not speak to me again and I have not seen her since. I do not know what spooked her so."
The importance of the words Michel uttered was lost upon Erik as he struggled within himself. All of the emotional turmoil that had threatened to consume him had been eased, taken away in gentle song. He had found his life balancing delicately upon the edge of happiness. No, contentment. And then Anna had returned, and now insulted and hurt him deeply. He found himself ill-prepared to deal with the strength of the emotions churning within him. He muttered a hasty excuse and exited the table without a glance back.
Madame Giry rapped impatiently upon the floor of the chapel with the end of her stick. It echoed, and then again.
"Christine!" She snapped, stalking from one side of the room to another. Only a single burning candle lit the dreary room.
"You dare speak to me in such a way, Madame? I am not your precious little pup, Michel."
The cool voice came from everywhere and nowhere, mocking her in her title and baiting her with reference to her beloved son. Madame Giry would not fall to that level, however, and chose to ignore the jaded words.
"I trust that your foul mood has nothing to do with Erik," she countered hastily.
"Oh, Madame, when will you ever learn that the best way to find something out is to simply ask."
"Do not mock me!" The older woman replied with a bit of venom, whirling about in the direction of the voice. "And for Christ's sake end the foolish voice tricks. Show yourself in the flesh."
As if on cue, Christine lifted her cool fingers to Madame's shoulder from behind.
"Boo." She whispered, causing Madame Giry to jump. She turned to scowl at the Lady.
"Did you take him?" Madame demanded, nostrils flaring in anger. Christine laughed, madness overriding emotion.
"Have we been through this before? Ah, yes. It is none of your concern what I do with him, Madame..." Madness overruled emotion for control and the taunting in Christine's tone was unnerving.
"Christine, please. Leave him be. He is a handsome man who deserves to find a wife, happiness..." Madame began to plead.
A misspoken word, or a reference that cut too close to the truth, caused something within Christine to snap. In a breath she had pushed the older woman against the cruel stone wall and was all but snarling in her face. With a crude gesture she motioned toward her mask.
"Something that this will always prevent me from being, yes Madame? Someone suited to be docile and perfectly pretty. To bear perfect children and make his dinner on time. That is what he deserves, isn't it? Something I'd never be fit to give! Those are your implications, are they not Madame."
Madame Giry's eyes widened. Not in fright or fear, but in realization.
"God save us all, you're in love with him!"