Disclaimer: I do not own POTO…except on DVD.
A/N: I posted this yesterday, but as LaRoseDeSoleil pointed out, there was a mistake in Raoul's line during the poetry conversation, so I made some corrections. Also, in case you didn't know, the poetry conversation comes to us compliments of the ultimate Authoress: Miss Jane Austen. (bows to the ultimate Authoress). While I'm at it, I thought I might include some review replies.
Marianne Brandon: Hmm, I never would have guessed that you have a thing for the dear Colonel. I own both the book and the movie. The movie actually introduced me to the wonderful world of Jane Austen six years ago and made me an Alan Rickman fan.
PhantomLover05: His first name is indeed Fitzwilliam. I believe there may be two references to it in the book, definitely at the end of his letter to Lizzy in Chapter XXXV (35, I believe…I hate Roman numerals). If you are confused because of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy's cousin, remember that the Colonel's last name is Fitzwilliam, while the same name is Darcy's first. Obviously, the name runs in their family.
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A/N: The wardrobe door flew open and Misty came marching in, singing at the top of her lungs.
"ONE DAY MOOOOOOORE!"
It was not a pretty sound. The Gerry protested from his place on the couch.
"Would you shut up?"
"WHO AM I? 2 – 4 – 6 – 0—"
The rest was cut off by a thrown throw pillow.
"Please spare me the agony!" the Gerry growled.
Misty chucked the pillow back at him. She waltzed to her desk and turned on her computer.
"I can't help it," she chirped. "I just saw Les Misérables, and I want everyone to know about it."
"That's very nice…show off."
"It was incredible! I can't help it. I thought I would never get the chance to see it."
The Gerry scratched his belly and turned back to the television. "Well, you've had your fun, now get back to your phic."
Misty arched an eyebrow in the direction of her muse. "You're getting to be a regular couch potato, my dear. If you keep this up I shall be forced to seek a replacement."
"You can't replace me!" the Gerry howled, angered enough to actually jump up off the couch and whirl to face her. "You haven't been exercising me!"
"I'm sure the minions would be happy to help you lose a few pounds."
The Gerry blanched, but being a Phantom, his anger swiftly returned. "You. Can't. Replace. ME!"
Misty gave him another arch look. "Don't flatter yourself. I have plenty of obsessions that rank much higher than you."
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ONE DOWN, ONE TO GO
Cecily was so overjoyed with Erik and the girls' reconciliation that she invited everyone to her home for dinner. Unfortunately, Algy figured that the invitation was extended to him as well. Anna would have had no scruples in telling the pushy detective to talk a long walk off a short plank. However, Cecily's inbred sense of decorum would not allow her to be rude and, so, Algy was included in the party.
There they were, seated around the Cheney dinner table. Cecily sat at the head flanked by Algy and Brooke. Raoul was happily seated to Brooke's left, while poor Anna was stuck between Algy and Erik. It was a rather strange party. Dom and Jacques sat at the far end of the table. They hadn't waited even two seconds after their sister finished saying grace before they tucked in like starving wolves. Meanwhile, Erik didn't utter one syllable while Anna did her best to deflect Algy's attentions. Cecily feared that the evening was in danger of a very bad ending, when Raoul and Brooke saved the day…or night. Their lively conversation entertained and drew the others away from private thoughts.
Brooke regaled them with tales of romances from her past life. Raoul, having a playful, teasing nature, did not mind the stories. Anna joined them.
"Do you remember that one boy who wrote poems about you?" the red-head said.
"Poems?" Raoul declared, "He must have been in head-over-heels."
"Perhaps, but the poems ended his affection," Brooke said. "I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love."
Raoul looked surprised. "I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love."
"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
Anna added, "Besides, he was a horrid writer."
"No sense of rhythm."
"Or diction."
"It had a very limp tone, too."
Beneath his mask, Erik smirked as the cousins' banter befuddled everyone else at the table. Algy blinked at Brooke for a moment then turned back to Anna. He leaned in and draped an arm across the back of her chair. Erik shot the detective an icy glare. Algy didn't flinch.
"Then what do you recommend to encourage affection?" Algy asked.
Anna turned to Erik and said, "Singing."
Erik's sunken blue eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest.
The rest of the dinner passed in easy conversation between the cousins, Raoul, and Cecily. Though Erik said nothing he watched them all most attentively. He could hardly believe that he was actually sitting at a family dining table, with his once archrival seated across the table. He eyed Raoul for a time, watching as the young nobleman openly flirted with Brooke.
Well, I suppose I have no more worries coming from that quarter, he thought.
Erik bent his gaze toward Algy. The Englishman was roguishly handsome, enough to make any woman salivate with lust. Erik fingered the Punjab lasso in his coat pocket.
"If you Punjab anyone at this table, I shall never be able to show my face in public again," Anna whispered.
Erik started at her nearness. She gave him a wicked grin and turned back to her food.
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Cecily led her guests into a spacious parlor where a servant was laying out coffee and cakes. The room was magnificent, featuring a cavernous fireplace and a beautiful piano. To the north there was a great set of French doors, which open onto a garden.
Raoul spied the doors and, grabbing Brooke's hand, led her toward them. He called to others over his shoulder,
"We're going out for some fresh air."
No one protested and Erik only sent the Vicomte one look of warning before giving a nod of consent.
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The crisp night air spoke of the approaching winter. The light from the house filtered through the golden and burgundy leaves of the trees, glowing as though they were infused with fairy dust. Raoul offered Brooke an arm and led her down a small flight of stone steps, into a maze of rose bushes and apple trees. After several minutes' contented silence, Brooke spoke.
"Thank you for everything you've done for Anna and myself."
"Please think nothing of it. I felt responsible for your losing Erik's trust."
Brooke shook her head. They resumed their walking as she continued the conversation.
"We probably should have been more open with him. He's hard to gage sometimes, but I think he's developed a serious soft spot for us."
"Anna in particular, I should say."
Brooke glanced up eagerly at her companion. "Do you really think so?"
"I think it's a safe bet that he's in love with her. Just like—"
Raoul stopped walking. The darkness hid his blushing face from Brooke's eyes, but his agitated fidgeting gave him away. He stared at the stars over her head, composing his thoughts. At last he reached down and took her hands in his. Immediately, he felt the pulse in her palm increase.
"Brooke, I wish I were a poet so…wait, you don't like poets. Never mind that, then. I guess the only way to say this is the most straight forward. I love you."
Brooke gulped, her green eyes as big as saucers.
"You caught my fancy from the first moment I saw you in the stables at Perros. I wanted to know you better, but I thought I owed my loyalty to Christine. She was my friend in childhood…but…well, as Philipe said: I've grown up and she hasn't. No one has ever filled my heart the way you do."
Brooke blushed and averted her eyes. She stared at his fingers curled around hers. Raoul panicked.
"I'm not frightening you…am I?" he stammered. Silently, he prayed that she would say no.
"No, it's just...overwhelming…in a good way." Brooke stole a shy glance at his face. He was beaming with relief.
The Vicomte rushed on, afraid the words would escape him if he did not utter them soon enough. "When you came into my life, my world turned upside down. I've been chased by fireworks, shot by balls of paint, and discovered things about the future of the world."
The brunette groaned. "I'm so sorry about all that."
"I love it!" he cried.
Brooke looked up in surprise.
"My life was dull before I met you!" He took her face between his hands. "You bring me joy such as I have never known. Every lady I have ever met has demanded to be pleased and flattered, but until I met you, I never knew a woman who truly deserved to be pleased and praised."
Suddenly, both realized how close they were standing. Their faces were but a few inches apart. All at once, Brooke's breathing became shallow and the mirth in Raoul's eyes gave way to something more fiery. Slowly, he leaned closer. Brooke made no objections. He took that as encouragement and kissed her.
When he withdrew, both of them were trembling all over. Raoul flushed and backed away.
"Forgive me. I never should have taken that liberty."
"I didn't exactly put up a fight."
Raoul's eyes flew to Brooke's face. He stared at her intensely, as though trying to read fine print.
"What do you mean?"
Brooke blushed and stammered, "I've loved you for the longest time. Ever since I first saw you."
"When was that?" Raoul cried eagerly.
"At Christine's debut performance in Faust."
"I didn't see you there."
Brooke laughed. "Anna and I were in the room that houses the counter weights of the chandelier. I saw you in your box seat."
"I wish I had known of it."
"Would you be thrilled with the idea that one of the theatre's haunts had developed a crush on you?"
It was Raoul's turn to laugh. He chuckled and kissed Brooke's knuckles.
"So…what happens now?" she asked.
"Now…" Raoul gulped, "Now you marry me…if you wish to."
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Later…
The clocks chimed two in the morning before everyone decided it was time to be in bed. At first Erik insisted on returning home with the cousins, but they persuaded him to accept Cecily's offer to stay the night. Algy looked disappointed at this, but made no objections as Raoul steered him out the door. Brooke stood at the door, blushing and waving to the Vicomte until his carriage disappeared around a bend in the street. She sighed and shut the door. Anna glared at her cousin. The brunette had a rather stupid smile pasted on her face. Something was up and Anna was going to find out.
Unfortunately, Erik stood in her way.
"Why did you insist upon staying here?" he hissed. If he had been a dog, every hair on his back would have been bristling. Anna didn't budge.
"Because if we left, it would give Algernon a chance to follow us!"
"Good. Then I could have disposed of him all the more conveniently."
"Erik, please! It's better this way. He's a detective, for Pete's sake!"
Cecily snorted. "Apparently, he not enough of a detective to detect all those warning signals you threw at him all night."
"Every man is deficient in the field of correctly interpreting female signals," Anna spat, giving Erik a reproachful glance.
"What? I understood your signals. You wanted him to leave you alone."
Anna groaned and slapped a palm to her forehead. Will he never understand the signals I send to HIMSELF?
"Never mind, Erik. You're distracting me from my mission."
"What mission?"
"To find out why Brooke and Raoul came floating back into the house with goofy grins on their faces." Anna flew to her cousin's side. "Out with it."
Brooke glanced about cagily. "Out with what?"
Cecily closed in from the left. "Whatever happened between you and the Vicomte out in the garden?"
Erik stepped up from the right. "You were out there for awhile."
Brooke turned scarlet and chewed on her fingernails. "Um…well…we're…engaged."
Anna and Cecily shrieked with joy. Erik blinked. He knew this was definitely going to change things.
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A/N: Misty finished up and posted.
"Finished."
"Good," the Gerry snapped.
The tranquility of the den was interrupted by a tremendous noise coming from the hall. It sounded for all the world like a pack of minions giggling over a secret. Coincidentally, that's exactly what it turned out to be. The socks barred most of them from the door. Captain Marianne passed through unharmed.
"Yes, Captain?" asked the Authoress.
"Phantress is here and she has a present for you."
Misty squealed in delight as her friend swept past the snarling sock army and into the den.
"Darling!" they each exclaimed.
"I have something for you. Let him in, ladies."
The Gerry frowned. "Him?"
The sea of minions parted to reveal none other Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, looking as nettled as he could.
"Misty, may I introduce you to your new muse," Phantress declared.
Misty didn't answer, for she had fainted away.
Real A/N: Never fear for The Gerry. He'll be fine. Anywho. I hope you all enjoyed the fluff. The zaniness should return in the next installment.