Chapter Eight

There had been no time to speak with Sarah in the days between overhearing the conversation and opening night. Sarah had been away assisting with a health clinic and Erik himself had been drawn into helping Robert in a visit to a site where he was planning on building one of the new skyscraper-style buildings that were beginning to take hold. Erik was intrigued by the new architectural designs and promised Robert he would work on one for him that kept the traditional Greek architectural beauty they both favored.

His time spent with Robert helped to keep his mind occupied and also helped cement their friendship. This was the first time other than his limited experience with the daroga in Persia, where he felt able to speak man to man with someone who not only was intelligent but who also shared his experience in handling a disfigurement, even though Robert's was more easily hidden. The proverbial ice had already been broken for him here in New York. The upper class was not aristocrats; they were self-made like Erik and didn't harbor any disgust or disregard for those who had problems like he did. He had never been very good with social interactions because of his situation. Now he was getting quite the education and trial by fire. Robert had been invaluable in helping ease him into society. They ate lunch at the club with a small group of friends and no one batted an eye that Erik needed to take extremely minimal bites and take the entire lunch slowly because of his mask. He still preferred to be about more at night, but the looks he received while being out and about in the neighborhoods they frequented were few and generally only glancing. His temper improved. His conversational skills increased. And, dare he admit it? He found himself not only tolerating human companionship; he actually enjoyed it for the first time in his life.

Erik thought over all of this as he dressed for the gala opening of Faust. He was pleased with his tailor and the cut of the coat of his tuxedo. Apparently, a new style here in New York, was almost a cape-like coat tail that split up the middle. He approved and stood in front of the mirror in his chambers: something he did not generally do. He looked at his reflection and, for a moment, pictured her by his side: a portrait of sorts. He needed to speak to Sarah. He was sure she would have an idea for him.

As if on cue, there was a light knock at his door.

"Erik! You look positively dashing!" Sarah said by the way of greeting as he opened the door. She recognized the small lift of the corner of his lip as his smile and she continued, "May I?" He held his arm up and she felt the material, nodding her approval.

"You look exquisite. Amethyst is truly your color," Erik complemented her in return.

"Are you ready? I can hardly wait! Faust is one of my favorite operas," Sarah sighed. "It's so romantically tragic!"

"Indeed, it is." He looked over her shoulder. "Where is Robert?"

Sarah frowned in annoyance. "He can't joins us tonight. He had to travel to one of his refineries because there's an issue with the manager and the local mayor of the town. I hope you don't mind escorting me tonight."

Erik's eyebrow raised marginally. "Isn't that a bit scandalous?"

Sarah smiled, "I certainly hope so! I will be the envy of all the women there!"

Erik actually laughed. "You cannot be serious!"

Sarah put her arm through his as they began to leave. "You have no idea how much of a stir you've created, my dear Erik! Every one of the women in our circle has been talking about the dashing man in the mask. And after the example of your musical prowess, there are several who are hoping to introduce you to some of their unattached female friends."

Erik stopped abruptly. "What?!"

Sarah nodded. "Erik, I told you; it's very different here in New York. In these circles anyhow."

"I am not accustomed to socializing let alone socializing with ladies. This is supremely awkward for me: and something I'd like to speak with you about."

"Oh? Is there someone you're interested in?" Sarah's eyes sparkled. "I'd love to play matchmaker for you!"

"I do need a woman's view on this...desperately," Erik confessed.

"Then after the performance tonight, you'll tell me everything!"

The opera was completely sold out for opening night. The creme de la creme of society was there as well as many others who simply enjoyed and supported the arts. Sarah artfully steered Erik down darker corridors without appearing to be hiding. She knew he was still extremely uncomfortable in public and this was definitely an overwhelming situation. Her concern for his comfort touched him and he found the hard shell he had always kept around himself slowly cracking to allow her and her husband in.

As they made their way to the Brokaw's box, Erik couldn't help but feel anxious. Even though she wouldn't be singing the lead, he would get to openly watch Christine without fear of discovery. His mind was racing with thoughts of how to approach her, how to change what had happened between them. He'd heard so much the other night: so much that had given him hope. But he still doubted himself. How could he not after what had happened when he had thought he'd won her heart before?

"Here we go, Erik. We'll be joined by two of our friends. You met them: Theodore and Rebecca Turner. They're the ones…." Sara stopped because Erik had stopped at the entrance to the private box. "What's wrong?"

Erik smiled slightly. "This is box five."

Sarah frowned briefly. "Well, yes. Is there a problem?"

"No. Call it prophetic. Box five was my box in Paris."

Sarah smiled as Erik ushered her inside. "I will take that as a good sign! It's telling you you're home and you're meant to stay here in New York."

"Perhaps you are right."

The performance began shortly after the other couple joined them and, beginning to end, Erik was unable to keep his eyes off the stage. The performance was excellent and he enjoyed the leads in their parts, but each time the chorus came on stage, Erik had no time for anything else happening anywhere. It didn't go unnoticed.

Sarah was an incredibly astute observer. She had made a hobby of reading everything she could about the study of psychology. While other women worked on needlepoint, she worked on case studies by Freud and Watson. Robert was a doting husband and encouraged her to pursue her interests. Because of that, Erik's abrupt changes in posture and breathing each time the chorus came on stage were clear signals to Sarah that something was definitely affecting him. She surreptitiously scanned the stage each time his attitude changed and settled on the young soprano understudy they had heard earlier that week. She raised her eyebrow and made a few mental notes for later.

After the performance and a standing ovation, Sarah took Erik by the arm. "Come. There's a cocktail reception being held by the board of trustees. We'll be able to meet some of the cast."

Erik pulled back. "No. You should go. I will wait for you outside in order to see you home."

"Don't be ridiculous! There are only a few people you won't know, aside from the cast, and the rest of the trustees are good people as well. There won't be any issue. Besides," Sarah added, seeing Erik's unchanged reluctance, "I want the other women jealous, remember? And honestly, it's something you can use to your advantage as well."

"What do you mean?" Erik frowned.

As Sarah artfully steered him towards the private lounge where the party would be, she took a chance that she was right about the understudy. "The fastest way to a woman's heart is to make her see what she's missing. No doubt word will spread that the dashing new patron was at the party and reach other ears."

Erik turned quickly to look at her. "How-"

"Later, Erik. Remember? You're supposed to tell me everything, but I think I know some of the pieces of this puzzle already," Sarah smiled knowingly.

Upon entering the lounge, they were greeted by the managers and Erik was introduced to some of the trustees he'd yet to meet. Sarah was right. His quiet aloofness and defferential treatment of the women left him the target of many bashful looks. He was relieved when the managers presented the leading lady and gentleman of the show.

"Ah! The toast of New York! Welcome, Marie!" Mr. Schoeffel, one of the managers, introduced her with a raised glass he promptly gave to the soprano. "May I present Marie van Cauteren: our leading lady, Marguerite!"

Everyone applauded and soon she was engaged in conversation with the women. A few moments later, Mr. Gray introduced Faust. "And here is Eugene Dufriche: our amazing and tragic Faust!"

As the small reception continued, Sarah coaxed Erik to meet the performers. "Marie, I'd like to introduce you to Monsieur Leroux. We are both fans of yours!"

Marie smiled as she extended her hand to Erik. Taking it in his and raising it to his lips briefly, he lowered it and nodded. "You have a beautiful voice, Madame. Your vibrato in the register above high C was perfectly executed. And the emotion you poured into the Act III aria was entirely convincing. You have a clear and wonderful talent."

The woman blushed. "Thank you. You obviously know music. It's wonderful to hear praise from someone who is knowledgeable."

"Oh, he's quite knowledgeable," Sarah interjected. "He is an amazing and accomplished composer and pianist. You would swear he can pull your soul into his music."

Erik raised the corner of his lips in a small smile. "Sarah, you do me a great honor but I am not that good."

Sarah looked at Marie and winked conspiratorially. "And he's ridiculously modest!"

"Mr. Leroux, I would love to hear you play sometime. I'm guessing you are a singer as well. You have an amazing timbre."

Erik cleared his throat. "Ah, yes….but it's been some time since I've indulged. I'm afraid I would make a very poor substitute for Mr. Dufriche."

Marie smiled again and lightly placed her hand on his arm. "Still, I hope you humor me some evening." She smiled, leaving the invitation open as she was led away to speak to a few others.

"Clearly the leading soprano finds you attractive!" Sarah whispered, smiling.

"What on earth do you mean?" Erik countered, moving to stand once again towards the back of the room and the friendly shadows there.

"Just how sheltered a life have you lived?" Sarah questioned incredulously. "She was flirting with you."

Erik scoffed. "Indeed!"

"She was! She touched you and asked you to sing for her some evening. That was an invitation! I told you women would find you mysterious and attractive!" Sarah insisted.

"I find that incredibly difficult to believe. I have never once had any woman show anything but fear when confronted with my appearance."

Sarah leaned closer and whispered quietly so as not to be overheard. "You see Mrs. Martin there? The woman in blue? She can't keep her eyes off of you!" As if to prove her point, they both caught her glancing their way. "And Mrs. Fisk...there in black?" Sarah surreptitiously lifted her finger and pointed. "She has a daughter of about twenty-two who is still single. She's asked me a great deal about you and if you might be interested in meeting her."

Erik's eyes widened in alarm at that and Sarah laughed again. "Oh, don't worry. I told her you weren't sure if you were staying in New York or possibly leaving for New Orleans soon. But, as you can see, you've stirred up many a woman's pulse here."

"I find this all very disturbing," Erik replied. "I do not have the social skills necessary to play these games."

"That's why I'm here," Sarah replied. "Now that Marie has met you, when she leaves to go celebrate with the rest of the cast, word of the mysterious and alluring masked patron will spread and she'll know you're here."

Erik turned abruptly towards her. "Who will know?"

Sarah laid her hand on his arm in a calming gesture. As Robert said about betting at poker, she was "all in" now. "The young woman you can't take your eyes off of in the chorus. The understudy for Marie."

Erik swallowed hard, not sure if he could trust his voice, Sarah, or himself.

Sarah nodded. "I thought so. Let's leave and you can tell me everything...or nothing...or a little something...on our way back to the club. Shall we?"

Erik nodded and they said their good nights to the rest of the trustees.

"Marie! It's about damn time!" A sandy-haired man shouted from a table in the back of the pub she'd just entered.

Cheers went up as she and Eugene made their way to the back where the cast and crew were celebrating a terrific opening night. She deftly snatched a mug from someone's outstretched hand and sat at the table next to Meg and Christine.

"What do you want from me? You know Maurice and I have to schmooze with the trustees when they want us! We got out as soon as we could," Marie said, taking a sip of her ale.

"So what's it like, hobnobbing with the rich?" Another man asked.

"It's not so bad. They're actually nice enough."

"Sure...they're probably all, 'What a pretty voice!' No one ever knows or really appreciates what goes into making the production so good," scoffed a young chorus girl.

"Actually, one of the patrons knows music," Marie countered. "He complimented me on my vibrato technique. Apparently he's a bit of a composer, too, according to Mrs. Brokaw." Marie sighed. "He was quite dashing: actually kissed my hand! I invited him to play for me some evening. I certainly hope he takes me up on it!"

Several of the girls at Christine and Meg's table giggled. One asked, "Is he young and handsome?"

Marie turned their way to answer the girl. "Well, I think he's probably a bit older...maybe in his forties..and from what I could see, he was handsome."

"What do you mean, 'from what you could see'?" Meg asked, laughing.

"Well, the poor man was wearing a partial mask. He must have been injured in the war as a young boy," Marie conjectured.

Meg looked at Christine who had gone white as a ghost and was clutching the table as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling from her seat. "Mask?" Meg managed to squeak out over the sudden pounding of her heart.

"Yes. He must have suffered a terrible wound. But that hardly matters. He had such a commanding presence! He hardly spoke but there was just something about him that drew me in. Oh, and when he speaks!" Here, Marie sighed. "I'm sure if he ever sang, women would melt at his feet!"

Christine swallowed hard and Meg took hold of her hand. The girl at their table who had spoken before asked, "But a mask? What if he's horrible looking?"

Marie frowned at her. "Don't be so shallow, Joanna! He has the voice and presence of some kind of dark angel and the half of his face he reveals matches that perfectly. His eyes are amazing, too! One is ice blue and the other is green." Marie closed her eyes again and smiled. "I certainly don't care what he looks like...not with that voice!" She opened her eyes. "And neither do the trustees' wives, let me tell you! None of them could keep their eyes off of him! And he seemed to be escorting Mrs. Brokaw! I hope her husband knows the danger of allowing that!" She laughed.

Conversation continued about other things, but Christine felt as if the entire pub had disappeared around her. She was caught in a whirlwind of emotions that left her struggling to focus. She felt Meg gently tugging at her to stand up and she allowed her to lead them out of the pub and down the street to a quieter spot. She felt Meg tugging harder on her hand and heard her speaking and, with great effort, she finally turned her attention to her friend.

"Christine! Are you alright? You're starting to scare me!" Meg was frantic to get through to her friend.

She blinked several times and focused on Meg. "No. I'm not alright. Did you hear what Marie said?"

"It could be anyone, Christine. I'm sure the Phantom isn't the only man who wears a mask. Besides, what's the likelihood he would have come to New York of all places?"

"No, Meg. It's him. It's Erik. I know it. But what Marie said… Did you hear how she spoke of him?"

"Yes. It sounds like he's made quite an impression: and not the same kind as in Paris. I mean, if he isn't sneaking around and haunting a place, I suppose it stands to reason no one would be afraid of him," Meg replied thoughtfully.

"She said women were taken with him, regardless of his looks." Christine stopped and felt a lump begin to form in her throat. "Marie called Joanna 'shallow'. What does that make me? Not only did I strip him of his mask twice, I shunned him for the way he looks. How horrible of a person am I….truly?"

"Oh, Christine! Don't! You weren't under the same circumstances. He lied to you and tried to force you to stay with him! You've changed since then and, apparently, so has he. You're not shallow!" Meg argued.

Christine shook her head, "Look at who I picked instead: a young, rich, and handsome Raoul. He swept me up all because of those things. That's the very definition of shallow."

Meg remained quiet, not sure what to say. She hated to see Christine hurt so much. "Well, if it is the Phan-I mean Erik-the only reason he's here is for you. Somehow, he knew you were here. That means he still wants you. What do you want, Christine?"

"How could he still want me after I completely destroyed his life?!" Christine asked angrily. And she was angry: at herself.

Meg was quiet again. Instead of answering her friend, she hugged her. When they pulled apart, there were tears in both of their eyes.