Chapter 8: Paris, France, Opera Populaire, 1881
"Gentlemen?"
A stately young man in his mid-twenties smoothly approached the Opera Populaire's new owners. He stood erect at six feet or so and was lavishly dressed. He wore a black suit tailored fitted to his lean figure and his crisp white vest and opera scarf hung around his torso elegantly. An equally expensively dressed woman draped over his arm, completing the impression of an extremely wealthy couple.
The young man was none other than the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.
The entirety of the de Chagny line was by far one of the most affluent and esteemed in Paris, if not of all France. Consequently, anything Raoul de Chagny funded immediately became a hub for rich attendants and supporters. The opera house's reputation as the most valued aspect of the entertainment district already had it at the top of wealthy Parisian's lists. The Vicomte's investment had immediately made the place even more distinguished.
In fact, Raoul was himself was on the top of many a woman's list. He was charming, dashing, and a witty conversationalist. Not to mention devilishly handsome. His golden colored hair hung freely around his neck and shoulders. His light blue eyes constantly sparkled with youthfulness and mischievousness.
Raoul was known to have spent many a night with several different maids of prosperous families and he frequently flaunted a jeweled mademoiselle practically drooling and hanging on his every word and wish. Most were quite willing to give themselves away to make him stay with them but a moment longer.
Raoul, however, never committed to a singular relationship and therefore was always amongst the gossips of the city. His father, Count Philibert de Chagny, had resolved to change his youngest son's frivolous habits to make him a responsible heir to the expansive de Chagny estate. For this reason, the aging count had commissioned him to become the benefactor to the highly regarded Opera Populaire.
Presently, the plan hadn't worked.
"Ah! Monsieur le Vicomte there you are! Glad to see you here so early." Gilles André enthusiastically piped.
"Yes, well I suppose it is wise I did so. The foyer is already filling with patrons." Raoul replied cheerfully.
"No worries, my dear Vicomte," Richard Firmin spoke up now, "We planned ahead and reserved your own private box for you and your lady."
"Countess Raquel Lucia de la Cruz," Raoul introduced, "My good friends Gilles André nd Richard Firmin. Our fine lady is visiting from Madrid. Her father orchestrated a monumental business endeavor with the various mining guilds in northern France. You've read about it in the papers I'm sure."
"Of course!" Richard, always the ladies' man, bent to kiss the gloved hand of Raoul's female companion. "At your service, Countess. Anything to make your evening more comfortable will be done. We have servants on hand to attend you. "
"Gracias, senors." The countess purred, eyeing both men with dark, seductive eyes.
"You do plan on bringing the Countess to the gala tonight, Vicomte? You couldn't very well keep her all to yourself." André winked playfully.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Gilles." Raoul grinned, "But if you will excuse us, Raquel and I would like to be seated. Our box gentlemen?"
"Ah yes! Box Five on the Grand Tier, it has a vast view of the entire stage and it's quite private."
"Box Five it is then. Until the gala, gentlemen."
Raoul bowed graciously and escorted the Countess up the marble steps of the Grand Staircase, towards the Grand Tier and Box Five.
Decades before, the old soldier barracks that had served a regiment of France's large infantry had been rebuilt and expanded into the Opera Populaire. The architects of the original edifice had long since been laid to rest and the old passageways and dungeons were all unknown…unknown except to him.
It was one of these paths between the outer and inner walls of the opera house that the Phantom of the Opera noiselessly stalked through. He headed for his favorite seat on the Grand Tier and his impatience and unexplained excitement hadn't yet subsided.
"Box Five it is then…"
Erik skidded to an abrupt halt at the name of the infamous box. He peeked through a wide spy hole in the stone wall to catch a glimpse of his theatre's new managers and a couple ascending the staircase.
"André, you don't suppose the ghost will mind sharing his box do you?" Erik heard Firmin ask, obvious sarcasm lacing his tone.
"I don't think so. Invisible beings don't take up too much space so I'm told."
The two men laughed hysterically at their own jest. Unbeknownst to them, the subject of their amusement was not nearly so jovial.
'How dare they…'
Rage boiled in his veins and it hadn't been for the wall, Erik was sure he would have murdered the both of them on the spot.
"Ridiculous! Simply ridiculous!" Richard chuckled as they both sauntered gaily to attend to some final arrangements of the night.
'Ridiculous, messieurs?' Erik watched the men bounce away, his Punjab lasso calling to him from its customary spot on his belt. 'We'll see how ridiculous I am when I choke the life out of your worthless carcasses…'
Erik stood there with his fingers coiling and uncoiling the rope, his mind in a trance-like state of fury. A woman's giggle awakened him out of his deadly stupor and he realized the Grand Foyer had filled with people. He growled, thoroughly irate, wishing he had pursued his victims.
'Patience…wait until the opera is over…everyone will be gone…the gentlemen will stay late…' The hissing influence cooed, soothing his wrath in a sickening way.
"Enjoy your night, gentlemen," Erik muttered, "It may be your last."
His temper temporarily pacified, the Phantom whisked back down the dark corridor, his cloak billowing out behind him, and a crafty plan formulating in his mind. The architecture of the theatre would allow him to wander above the stage, the audience on the ground floor, and the private boxes on the Grand Tier. In a word, he could be everywhere. A mischievous, lopsided grin replaced Erik's gloomy expression.
Whoever it was that was ignorant enough to brave the renowned Box Five against his command, The Phantom was about to find out.
And they were about to find out that he didn't like to share…