Welcome new reviewers and readers. Thanks for the entertaining revenge ideas; Erik throwing his voice to sound like Cartman from SP, pot-brownies, nekkid on stage, etc. I've got some real psycho's for readers ; )
-Leesainthesky
Ch 79 Act I
The stage was set, let the play begin.
Tonight Erik would pay a visit to Christine Comtess de Chagny. He would profess his unyielding love for her and beg forgiveness for his boorish behavior during his previous visit to her Paris home the prior fall.
I eyed my candle-lit reflection in the mirror of my bedroom vanity. A drab olive dress, just a tad too tight in the middle, a pair of scuffed slippers and no make-up to hide the spring allergy induced dark circles beneath my eyes created a pitiable image.
"Perfect," I chirped and patted my stomach.
"Perfectly dreadful. Wherever did you dredge up that unflattering frock, Gabrielle?" Erik asked.
"Charity from Madame Bodichon's maternity collection. My girth grew so fast when I arrived at the cottage that I could not sew new clothes fast enough, so Barbara lent me a few of things from her last pregnancy, which I believe was a good twenty years ago."
Behind me stood Erik, elegant in his dark evening tails, white shirt and black cravat. He was clean shaven and smelled of spices, his only adornment, a diamond pin securing his cravat and the white mask. Even though I preferred seeing him without the mask, I had to admit that there was something mysteriously alluring in seeing him with that slash of gleaming leather over the right side of his face. The whole Phantom of the Opera fantasy I supposed.
I leaned back against him and closed my eyes. He responded by slipping his warm hands over mine.
"You smell divine, Erik—way too enticing for a visit to the other woman. I'm not sure I like it very well," I teased.
"If it causes you discomfort, we do not have to see this through," he offered.
Even now, Erik had trouble discerning my jests.
"Oh, I trust you implicitly—and I insist this be done."
"You're certain our contrivance will not cause you undue duress, Gabrielle? I'll not have you taxing yourself. You're condition is delicate."
I could not help but smile at Erik's tender, if not overwrought concern.
"Dear Erik, at this moment women are birthing babies while they work in the fields. They nurse their newborn, place him in a basket and promptly resume working. A smidgen of dramatic folly is like a walk in the park to a healthy woman like me," I reassured him.
"Do promise me you'll take no chances," he said gravely.
"I promise, cross my heart."
"And Erik?"
"Yes, my dove," he said toying with a lock of hair that had escaped from my loose bun.
"I've come to a conclusion."
"A conclusion pertaining to what my dear?" Erik peered over my head into the vanity mirror and adjusted the tasteful diamond pin securing his cravat.
"To your latest proposal of marriage."
The room became very quiet. Erik continued to fuss with his cravat until it lay in just the right fold to please his immaculate taste.
"And your conclusion, will it have a positive affect or a negative on my countenance?"
"After an agonizing internal struggle and monumental soul searching, I believe that my decision will be to the benefit of us all." I slid my hands from beneath his and turned, wrapping my arms about his slender waist.
"You make it sound as if I offered you a business proposal rather than one for marriage, Gabrielle." Erik's eyes traveled from his mirrored image to my upturned face.
"Erik, marriage is about more than mere sexual passion and love, it is a partnership. Would you wish to make a lifetime pledge with someone who you were not certain would make a suitable partner? I think not and neither would you. Stop frowning will you, I haven't given my answer."
"Well then, out with it." His face grew stoic and he appeared to be holding his breath.
"So serious my strong, silent man," I said, laying my right hand against his chest.
"Erik, marriage is difficult, people are difficult, but in all my years on this earth, in both centuries, I've not met anyone like you."
"Most people are scarcely tolerable at best," he grumbled. "Present company excluded, naturally." Erik captured my hand in his, kissed it and brought it up to rest against his heart.
"As far as men go, you are a prince--one of few who haven't tried to change me. Oh my reasons for loving you could fill the Vatican, what I'm getting to is, yes, Erik, I want to marry you."
Erik smiled. The one corner of his eye crinkled in a show of genuine happiness. His hands drifted back down to my barely discernible waist, holding me as if I was made of blown glass.
Unshed tears glistened in his eyes.
"You want to marry me," he whispered.
"Absolutely."
"I fear I am not prepared, your ring, I—it's in the breast pocket of my day coat, upstairs in the guest room. I had it last night, but you made me wait—"
I placed two fingers across his lips. "It's okay; my love does not hinge on whether or not I have a fancy rock on my finger, but I must tell you, my ring finger has felt awfully naked these past few months."
"As has my heart. Gabrielle, marry me and I swear on my very soul that I shall learn what it is to be a good man and the best of husbands—and of fathers."
"I know you will. And Erik, I am sorry about your having to chase me about Europe. Forgive me?"
"Only if you forgive me."
"Obviously I already have, why else would I agree to be your wife, silly?" I chided.
He blinked at me before realizing that I was trying to lighten the mood. "Silly indeed Madame. I am of the opinion that we should celebrate our reunion with a bit of silliness between the sheets of your bed. I'm nearly bursting from the abstinence." His jade eyes turned a dark, smoky green, indicating the sincerity of his suggestion.
"Good heavens man, what did you do while I was away, or do I want to know?"
"I shall have you know I pined for you like a lovesick moose, although I never once taking my flesh into my own hands."
I can't say the same; I thought issuing a brief un-lady like snort and slapping my hand over my mouth.
"Lovesick moose, you? That I'd like to have seen."
"I daresay I find no humor in my admittance, Gabrielle."
"I missed you too. Your melodious voice, your droll wit, your friendship, your persuasive jade eyes."
"That is all?"
"Let's see, I also missed the touch of your fine hands and those passionate kisses from your lips. Oh yes, I nearly forgot, the inner caress of your most talented phallus."
His only eyebrow rose in a questionable 'oh' at the same moment an impish grin curled at the corner of his lips.
Our re-dedication ignited within me a fresh burst of affection. Brazenly, I leaned my hips into his hardened groin and brushed my lips against his warm cheek.
"I so love you, Erik," my happiness now marred only by the appearance of tears blurring the edge of my vision.
"I know."
Normally I had an aversion to cheesy romantic cliché, but when Erik gathered me into his arms and swept me over to the bed, I became willing putty in his masterful hands.
"Do you believe in fate or coincidence, Erik?"
"I suppose some occurrences are orchestrated by forces of nature," He mussed thoughtfully. "Why do you ask darling?"
"Think on it; Christine is in London for a special performance at the exact time you are only miles up the road in Hastings. Perfect timing I'd say." I patted my matronly up do back into place then assisted Erik in re-affixing his diamond pin to his the cravat that I'd nearly ripped from his neck during our quick romp on the bed.
"Perhaps your God is finally smiling his good fortune on us," replied Erik.
"Perhaps."
He swatted playfully at my rump, missing by a hand as I swung out of his way.
"We'd best make haste, my dear. The train leaves Hastings in twenty minutes. This is an opportunity not to miss," he said.
We made our way down the back stairwell leading to the small driveway on the southern side of the cottage where Bastion waited for us in the Bodichon's Brougham. Erik helped me with my cloak before heading out into the night for a visit to the dressing room of a certain diva.
The train to London flew, by nineteenth century standards, into the city in just under three hours. From Victoria Station we hired a driver to take us to Her Majesty's Opera House, in the heart of the theatre district.
Conversation was sparse within the dark confines of our coach. Erik and I sat nestled together. In a show of protectiveness, Erik draped an arm around my shoulders and I burrowed my head into his cashmere clad chest as we jostled and bounced over the cobblestone streets.
"Remember when you taught me a lesson concerning jealousy from the confines of my Brougham, Gabrielle?" Erik said with warm amusement.
"You were very naughty that day, Erik. Thinking I was toying with that little fellow in the dressmaker's shop. I like men a bit more…virile." I squeezed his hand.
"Virile. I quite like your flattered classification of my person, darling," growled Erik, nuzzling my neck in that way that said, I want you.
"No way, buster, I'm way too big to reenact such acrobatics now. Besides, we just—"
"We certainly did. You're a lusty woman, Gabrielle; I cannot help but to desire you."
"You only love me for the booty, Erik," I sniffed playfully.
"I love you for everything that you are and everything that we are, all of it."
"Remember your words after we've been married for a while." I said.
"Pardon moi?"
Conversation ceased when we'd noticed that the coachman had slowed his horse to an easy trot, a sure signal that the theatre was near by. I peeked from behind the velvet curtain. Scores of lavishly dressed Londoner's were busy disembarking from their fine coaches for a night of levity and music. Many came to see the beautiful and elusive Christine dazzle them with a sublime musical selection during a special intermission.
"Okey dokey," I said to Erik, letting the curtain flutter close, "I think we're here."
"Nervous, darling?" he asked.
"Slight performance anxiety—I'll be fine once your cue sends my adrenaline pumping," I said reassuring him.
"And you?"
"I relish the opportunity to look the little tart in the eyes and betray her with a smile."
"Erik, you're into this way too much."
"Nonsense. The first time I let Christine ruin my life, I was the primary culprit, this time it is she who nearly ruined my one happiness. I'll not allow her thoughtful deed go unnoticed this time around."
Erik's jaw was set into a steely smirk. I watched him work his leather clad hands into anxious fists. I snatched up one of his hands and stuck it on my belly.
"There, feel your son playing kick ball with my spleen," I said in an attempt to take the edge off of his vengeful mood.
Joyful enthusiasm swiftly replaced scorn when Erik spread his palm against my side, feeling the movement of our child.
"Ah, the little one is most active tonight. Could that be a foot there or a hand? Yes, a hand, why I believe he's composing his first aria right in your womb, Gabrielle."
"You wish, daddy. He's very dependable. Our tiny man starts grooving at about the same time every night."
"I've noticed your insistence upon calling the babe a 'he', how can you know?"
"Well, the usual way in my century of origin is by ultrasound, the method I detailed for you yesterday. Since we've none of that technology at our disposal here, I use my feminine intuition." I flashed him my most mysterious Mona Lisa smile.
In truth, I did not know how I knew, I just knew. Somewhere within my subconscious mind, errant pieces of information gleaned from my freshman music history class floated around in the gray matter. I did recall reading that the composer, Erik DuPuis, had a wife who'd given him at least two children, a boy and a girl. I saw no need in telling Erik that I knew these facts, it was no stretch to believe that if I did, he'd drive me nuts prying at my brain for additional details about his future.
Our driver freed the latch and the door opened, exposing us to the misty London evening.
"Ready, my sweet?" Erik asked.
"Ready!" I replied confidently.
Erik hopped off of the bench and into the street; he pivoted and extended his arm up to me. The entire move was considerably graceful and I giggled when he brought my gloved hand to his lips for a dramatic kiss.
"Madame, until I see you again."
Erik made a hasty exit into the night while I remained hidden in the interior shadows of the carriage.
The plan was for me to allow Erik ten minutes headway before I entered the opera house. And boy did the time creep by. Deep breathing exercise and pondering baby names kept me occupied. I'd become so engrossed in my thoughts that the coachman scared the living hell out of me when he rapped on the door.
"Ten minutes has passed, Madame. Would you be ready now?" he inquired.
I allowed the man to help me out of the conveyance. Picking up my skirts, I made my way up the theatre steps and into the brightly lit red interior of one of England's most historic opera houses.
As the trap door lover, Erik, always made it his business to discover the layout of any place he visited. Thus, I already knew I would find the main dressing rooms the left side of the building, accessible via a hallway off of the main corridor.
Once inside the theatre, I disappeared into the rush of patrons hurrying to their seats and plush boxes. I'd been a reporter so long that, for me, sneaking and snooping had become an art form. Slipping around the ushers and into the cloistered environment of the performers was easy. Within five minutes of entering the building, I'd located the main dressing rooms.
The trick now was finding the one containing Christine.
I interrupted a dancer on her way backstage. " 'Cuse me Miss, I'm Madame Chagny's personal seamstress and I've a last minute adjustment for 'er gown. These dressing rooms all look alike to me and I'm afraid that I can't remember which one belongs to me mistress." I said in my best cockney accent.
Irritated by my interruption she replied tersely, "There, that one," and pointed to the door at the head of the hall.
"Thank ye, kindly." The dancer was off before I'd completed my curtsy.
I sucked in a calming breath and put my ear against the door.
From within I could hear Erik's rich tenor addressing Christine; "Oh, my angel, my darling Christine, when I returned to DuPuis Manor and found that Gabrielle had deserted me, my heart became filled not with regret, but with relief at the discovery. I realized then that you are my true and only love. And what good fortune to find you in London when I am also in the Queen's city for a business matter! It is undoubtedly fate, do you not agree?"
"Undoubtedly," I heard Christine gush in lilting French. "Oh Erik, how I grieved for you when you left. I feared we'd be parted forever."
Grrr.
The baby made an impressive aerobic move and I patted my bump. Patience love, it won't be long now before we play our little trick on the mean noblewoman.
"How blind I was to spurn you. Never again will we be parted, but spend an eternity soaring to the heavens on the wings of my musical genius and your magnificent voice. If only you'll say yes to my proposal," Erik said. A ruse or not, hearing my lover speaking such words to her made me wince.
Blah, blah, blah, Erik, get on with it would ya? I whispered to the thick dressing room door.
"I sent you a letter. Meg had informed me of Gabrielle's flight and how distraught you'd become. I-I only thought of your happiness, Erik," Christine said.
Yarf.
"Yes, about the possibility of Gabrielle being here, in London. Your concern for my well-being warmed my heart. But I no longer care about that coarse American woman. It is you, my gentle lady, who stirs me," Erik continued.
At the sound of my cue, I counted to ten and burst into Christine's dressing room sending the door cracking loudly against the wall.
"You evil woman!" I spat. "The Times said you'd be here, so naturally I assumed Erik would follow like a love-sick cur."
Erik had Christine in his arms and was dipping her back for a kiss. She whipped her head toward me. Her eyes were wide with fright.
"G-Gabrielle?"
"Shut-up you little pop-tart," I snarled.
"What in God's name are you doing here? I thought I told you to never again cast your shadow upon me. I do not want you." Erik's voice dripped with contempt.
I revealed the small derringer I'd been hiding behind my back and waved it at the two of them. Christine blanched so badly that a ghost's complexion would have paled in comparison.
Erik released Christine; pushing her out of the bullet's path should I decide to shoot her.
"And you, duplicitous demon, you had your way with me then dumped me to fend for myself," I hissed at him and addressed Christine once more.
"Why so surprised, Madame? Have you never seen a pregnant woman before?"
At the utterance of a word not spoken in polite society, Christine's eyes grew even larger. She gawked at my twenty four week old baby bump, gasped, and then cast a quick glance at Erik.
"Make no mistake, it's definitely his child."
I quickly changed my tone from enraged to pleadingly pitiful. "Erik, why, oh, why did you put me out? I did everything for you. I fed you, cleaned your house, cooked your meals, why I-I even gave you my body any time you required the use of it. Then you left me. You said you loved me, you lied!" I sobbed and pointed the pistol at him.
"Insane twit, you could be carrying anyone's child for all I know. I do not want you, Gabrielle. Leave us this instant!"
"Cruel, evil man," I sniffled back mock tears then eyed Christine.
"Madame, in spite of the filth he spews, I've been with no man other than him. Erik and I, we were to be married until he found you again. You, with your beauty and your voice, so talented, so wealthy—a woman with such grand attributes could have anyone in all of Europe. Please, please, I beg you, kind lady, leave my Erik alone." I implored her, this time real tears streamed down my face.
She switched her attention from me to Erik. "Could this be true? Are you the father of her unborn child Erik?"
"I suppose it is possible," he said nonchalantly. "But how do I know you've not spent your nights warming the beds of other men, Gabrielle?"
"How could you say something so-so, awful? Erik, you are the only man to touch me since my dear departed husband. It is your baby that I carry, I swear it!"
Christine cast him an accusatory look and he shrugged, "It is of no consequence to me. I do not love the woman."
"If I cannot have you, than you both shall die for your dereliction." I was back to being crazy Gabrielle now. It took a great deal of discipline not to break out laughing when a terrified
Christine grabbed onto Erik and clung to him for dear life.
Erik glared down his nose at me with an arctic stare.
"I loved you, Erik; I would never have deserted you the way she deserted you." I scowled at Christine hoping to rub salt into an old wound.
"What do you want, money? I'll give you all you want if you leave us alone forever."
"What I want, I cannot have; therefore, no one shall have you." I aimed the small pistol at Erik.
Erik lurched forward in a fruitless attempt to subdue me. I fired. A pop and a puff of smoke sent Christine shrieking to her knees. A red stain blossomed from beneath Erik's dark tail coat and spread across his cream colored waist coat. He clutched at his chest and fell to the floor.
Hovering over Erik's limp body, Christine gaped at me in horror and struggled to lift him into her arms. "I fear you've killed him you mad woman!"
"Erik, Erik, darling, speak please—my God! Help us."
The Comtess was frantic. Tears wet her pale cheeks and she looked down at Erik mournfully.
"Shut yer yap, bitch. You stole my man and now you are gonna pay for it. Say your prayers, Comtess." I aimed the gun at her.
"Please, do not harm me. I could not help myself, when I heard that Erik had found a love and I was alone, well, I recalled the mystical bond we once shared and I imagined that I could rekindle the fire which once consumed our souls. I did not know you were with child, Gabrielle, honestly, I would never endeavor to separate a child from its parents. I love Erik too much to do such a thing."
"Whatever," I brushed off her fervent appeal and cocked the trigger.
"Have mercy, sweet mercy, dear woman," she continued to wail. "I beg your forgiveness for my behavior if only you will spare me my life."
While groveling, Christine crawled toward me on hands and knees. I smiled wickedly and laughed. "You'd appreciate my compassion now would you not? Where was your compassion when you campaigned for my fiancée?"
"I—I'm grievously sorry, truly, truly sorry for the pain and heartache I have caused you, Gabrielle. Do not kill me, a mother spending life imprisoned for murder is not a burden one's child should live with."
"I do see your point, Madame, but I fear that at this very moment, my anguish prevents me from engaging compassion for the likes of you. Harlot, whore, man stealer."
I pulled the trigger.
Like a marionette with severed strings, Christine crumpled into a heap on the dressing room floor.
- () -
I urge everyone to review for me, event a few words are appreciated.
Thanks Amy for the beta work. Barb, I hope you get your power back soon (yarf!).
-Leesa