Chapter 10: The Aristocrat's Search

The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny was not, as were most male aristocrats of his acquaintance, a man of shallow character, given to drink and the pleausures of the flesh. He had been in love briefly before, years before meeting Christine at the Opera House again. However, he had discovered, in a very painful fashion, that the object of his affections, although a member of the aristocracy, was not worthy of him. She had merely been interested in the size of his inheritance. When a slightly wealthier suitor had appeared, she had promptly broken off her relationship with Raoul, which had nearly, but not yet, become an engagement. The young Vicomte, heartbroken, had promised himself to stay away from women for the rest of his life. He had rashly made this promise while uncharacteristically downing glass after glass of the finest spirits his friends could obtain for him. Surrounded by them, at the fashionably decorated Salon des Belles-Fleurs, he had boisterously toasted their gaudily painted paramours, damning them to hell in the next breath, again and again. Then he had pitched forward, soundly asleep.

The pounding headache and horrible sickness of the very next day had made him swear more uncharacteristic oaths, to his friends' vast amusement.

Raoul now recalled these events with great chagrin, telling himself that he had been the world's greatest fool for letting Christine go so easily. However, he was a gentleman, and not, as he proudly reminded himself, in name only. He could not bring himself to coerce a woman to remain in a relationship with him, if she did not choose to do so. In the next instant, he told himself that Christine's case was different. She was the second woman he had ever fallen in love with, or perhaps the only one. After all, he had loved her as a child. He realized that he had been pretending to himself that he had loved that other woman, the one who had rejected him. As for the ones in between these two.....well, he did not often bed women for the mere pleasure of it. He knew he was the laughingstock of his circle of friends for this. He did not care. Sex, to him, meant much more than a roll in the hay. He actually had to feel something for the woman. So, he had frequently had to make do in other ways.......

Shaking his head of memories, Raoul brought his attention back to the present. Soon he would be receiving word from the second detective he had hired. He needed to know where Christine was. She had unexpectedly outsmarted him. She must have known, somehow, that he had had no intention of actually taking her to that beast of a man. No, he had pretended to go along with her wishes, planning to follow her coach as soon as he could, without arousing her suspicions. While he went into the hotel, she immediately hired another coach, however, and given him the slip. Still, he had been sure that she would go to the Opera House, so he had immediately gone there, on his borrowed steed.

Now he knew that she had never made it to the Populaire. Somehow, she had met Erik, or someone he knew, along the way, and disappeared. That was what the first detective had told him. Raoul had dismissed him when the man told him that he had been unable to learn anything else about the young diva's whereabouts.

On the recommendation of a friend who had sworn that he was completely satisfied with services rendered, the Vicomte had hired Monsieur Bonvivant. He had not liked the man's name, but had nevertheless decided not to hold that against him.

Now Raoul waited impatiently, pacing up and down the vast hotel lobby, to the consternation of several young, lovely aristocratic ladies, who had repeatedly tried, unsuccessfully, to get his attention.

The Vicomte looked once again at his pocket watch. He sighed rather dramatically, oblivious to the accompanying sighs of the aforementioned young ladies.

"Monsieur Le Vicomte!" Raoul looked up, and yet another sigh, this time of relief, escaped his lips. His demeanor brightened.

Bonvivant strode confidently toward him, a broad grin on his face. "Success, monsieur!" He was full of energy. As he reached Raoul, he thrust a three-page document into the young man's waiting hands.

Raoul glanced quickly over the pages, as the detective waited. Then he looked up, his expression one of great distress.

"Married? How could she be married? Where, you say?"

"It is there, in the document, sir. The name of the chapel, and that of the priest, as well."

"But......how......so soon?" Raoul felt as though he had been thrust into an airless tunnel.

"I am sorry, monsieur. Those are the facts. I have also discovered where they are going."

"There's........more?" Raoul stammered, momentarily confused.

"It's on page three, sir. They are heading into the country, on horseback."

Raoul took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. Well, if he could not have her, neither would that madman. For her own good, married or not, he had to get her away from him.

He looked up from his musings, to find the detective staring at him expectantly.

"Here, my good man," the Vicomte said, pulling a purse full of coins from one of his vest pockets. "You shall be receiving more, as I shall be needing your services for a longer time than I had expected. How soon can you leave with me?"

"I will be ready at your convenience, monsieur."

"Very good, then. We leave within the hour. Our goal is to catch the fugitives."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but would that be wise? Should we not contact the police, and give them this information? From experience, I can tell you what is bound to happen, when a jilted suitor finds the woman with the man she left him for."

Raoul thought it over briefly. "Perhaps you are right, monsieur. Let us go to the police, then."

Turning, Raoul walked back to his hotel room, the detective eagerly following him.

Behind them, one of the young loadies had swooned, and the others were fanning her with their elegant, custom-made hats.