Hey everyone! Happy Fourth of July to all of my American readers. (Ok so the fourth was like a couple days ago but still. ) Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter. I love, love, love hearing from you all. And you always manage to make good suggestions and to give me a good laugh. Oh, and I noticed that there were several new readers. So Welcome to the story.
Once again a huge thanks to Terpsichore! She managed to get this chapter done even though she was very busy. (It being a holiday and all.) Yay for Terpsichore! She is officially a super editor!
Oh and explodingBrain-musik did a fan art of Brielle for me! (Claps hands) When I read the email I was just tickled pink! Yay! But if you all want to check it out here is the link… hopefully it will work.
http // img . photobucket. com /albums /v32 /SockPoppet /briellecolor- 1. jpg
Chapter 64: Opening Night II
Clasping his hands calmly behind his back, Conner's smile returned full force. "Why… Meg Giry, of course. Meg could do it with her eyes closed."
The relieved expression on Meg's face fell flat, morphing instantly into astonished disbelief. Blinking stupidly at Conner, with her mouth hanging open in shock, the dancer shook her head slowly. "What did you just say? I think I heard you wrong."
Nodding in agreement, Firmin reached up and rubbed at one ear. "Yes, I am not sure that I heard you either." Gaping openly in Meg's direction, Andre could only work his mouth silently, despair once again draining his face to a sickly pallor as he waited with everyone else to hear Conner's reply.
Without missing a beat, Conner walked to Meg's side and flung an arm about her shoulders. "Meg could do it," he repeated, seemingly oblivious to the effects of his stunning statement. "And I daresay she would do a better job of it than that redheaded idiot ever could. I mean really… whoever heard of a dancer who is clumsy enough to break her own leg?"
When Firmin simply continued to stare at Conner blankly Brielle hurriedly stepped forward. "Absolutely, Meg could do it. I have seen her practicing late almost every night. She has a natural talent to be sure but because she isn't as demanding and arrogant as people like Maryann you haven't noticed yet. Just think… having a headliner who is not a pain in your ass. Wouldn't that be a nice change?"
Firmin closed his mouth with a click, finally appearing as if he were considering Conner's suggestion. His expression calmed somewhat as he pursed his lips in thought. Andre, far from being placated, was working himself up into a distressed lather. Raising both hands up to pull at his hair, Andre finally found his voice. Turning to his partner, he let out a hysterical laugh. "We are ruined, Firmin! This is a disaster! That stupid girl has just gone and ruined us all!"
Waving a quieting hand in Andre's face, Firmin's dark eyes turned to where Meg stood in shock next to Conner. Frowning at Meg for a moment, he then addressed Conner. "You said she knows the part?"
Smoothing a casual hand down Meg's bare arm, Conner grinned, looking very much the imp as he waited for the managers to see his logic. "Absolutely," he stated easily, noting the sudden stiffening of the woman under his arm. Evidently having them talk over her head was not sitting well with her, which is exactly what Conner had hoped would happen. He knew the only thing strong enough to overcome her naturally quiet personality was anger.
"You cannot even be considering this, Firmin! Meg has never had a major part! She is untried. What if she freezes upon the stage! Just look at what happened last time we put an unknown upon the stage!" Andre practically shrieked at the top of his lungs.
Ignoring Andre, Firmin slowly began to nod his head. "And you are sure she knows the part?" he asked Conner.
Opening his mouth to reply, Conner was interrupted when Meg hurriedly cut him off. "Excuse me. I am standing right here. You are all talking as if I cannot hear you!" she blurted out, drawing everyone's attention quickly to her as she took a combative step forward. A secret smile stole across Conner's features as he winked at Firmin.
Not liking his own rudeness being pointed out to him, Firmin let out an irritated growl. Turning his address toward Meg, Firmin fixed her with his dark gaze. "Fine… Then tell me yourself. Are you sure you know Maryann's part?"
Caught in the center of attention Meg's bravado deflated slightly. Looking less sure of herself now, Meg moved just a little bit closer to Conner's side, seeking the comfort of his embrace as her heart pounded frantically within her chest. "Yes," she murmured quietly, then clearing her throat she restated her affirmation in a louder tone.
"Yes, I know her part." With a quick look up at Conner's face she took a steadying breath; buoyed by his encouraging smile, she barreled on. "And I know every other part too!" she added for good measure, the spark of her ambition finally beginning to burn brighter within her tawny eyes, dispelling the shadows of her doubt as she met Firmin stare for stare.
Pale-faced, Andre looked to Firmin as the taller man thought over Meg's words. Seeing the growing intensity within the blonde's expression, Firmin lost a little of his incredulity. Anyone who looked as Meg did now, he knew, could do anything they set their minds to. "All right, you have the part tonight." When Meg let out an excited gasp and clasped her hands in front of her chest, Firmin shot her a quelling glare. "But do not expect this to be permanent. This is a trial run because we have no other choice."
Not listening to a word the manager was saying, Meg turned with a happy squeal and leapt into Conner's arms, wrapping the redhead in a vise-like hug, and not caring for the moment how forward her actions were. "I cannot believe this is happening! I get to dance for everyone! I have worked so hard but now I finally get to do what I have been wanting all along!"
Rolling his eyes at the scene before him, Firmin scrubbed a hand down his face. "Just be ready by curtain call!" he snapped, as he turned on his heel and stalked off, Andre following quickly upon his heels.
The wicked I-am-causing-trouble smirk on playing across Conner's face slowly faded away as he brought his arms up to return Meg's heartfelt embrace. Closing his eyes, he turned his cheek into her bright hair, something deep and tender pulling his features into serious lines. He had purposely kept his demeanor light up until this moment, thinking to put the managers at ease, but now, in the face of Meg's unfettered delight, he couldn't keep the smile on his face. He wanted this woman, more than he had wanted anything in his life, and he couldn't make a joke of that.
Pulling back to look up at Conner's face, her smile bright enough to light the room, Meg wrapped one hand unconsciously in the lapel of his jacket. "Conner, you are a rat for surprising me like that! But… but thank you. No one has ever done anything like that for me before…" Looking surprised at her own statement, Meg lowered her gaze to his chest, a new sort of shock stealing over her features as her grip tightened on his clothing. "I… I…"
Fearing he would do something rash and completely inappropriate if he didn't put a little distance between them, Conner cleared his throat and carefully stepped back. "You are welcome, lass," he murmured gruffly.
Having hung back after the managers left, Brielle now stepped forward, her pale eyes flickering back and forth between Conner and Meg with a great amount of interest. "Meg, this is such wonderful news. Didn't I say that you were wonderful and that everyone would know it someday!"
As if hearing her friend from a far-off place, Meg nodded her head absently, too busy now sneaking peeks up at the man before her to notice much of anything, a new discovery shining in her face as she reluctantly dropped her hands from Conner's clothing. Trying to gather her wits, Meg finally looked at Brielle with a distracted smile. "Yes, you did say that, but I really never believed you."
A slow knowing smile began to pull at Brielle's mouth as she watched her friend struggle to find her words. "I hate to break the two of you apart right now, but shouldn't you be getting to the costume department? Being the lead means you need to change your costume and I assume fitting Maryann's dress to you may take a bit of time…"
Coming out of her dreamlike state, Meg raised both hands up to her mouth in a gasp, her soft eyes widening in panic. "Damn it! You are right! I have a million things to do and I only have a little while to do it! GOD!" Turning on her heel, she raced off with hardly a backward glance, fully caught up in the pre-performance panic brought on by Brielle's statement.
Shooting Brielle a dirty look, Conner raised a hand to rub over his eyes, his freckles standing out darkly in his flushed face. "Bri, you know I love you, but Lord if your big mouth doesn't annoy the fire right out of me!" he declared.
Raising her chin defiantly, Brielle raised one kohl-darkened eyebrow in his direction. "I felt it was my duty to interrupt the both of you. By the look on your face I feared that you were going to grab her by the hair and drag her off to your cave. And that would have ruined all of your grand plans."
Knowing his sister was right, but hating to admit it, Conner merely scowled. "Where did Erik run off to? As soon as the managers ran up he sort of disappeared."
Looking around her, Brielle frowned at her brother. "Well, that is a stupid question if I ever did hear one. You know very well why he would want to disappear with all of the noise and excitement. I am actually surprised he came out at all," she finished happily.
"Hm, what was it that had him out in the first place?"
"Oh, he saw Mr. Turner grab my arm so he charged out to knock the idiotic man off his feet. Actually, now that I think about it I am sort of glad he didn't break the man's face."
Interested now, Conner stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What was James Turner doing grabbing hold of you?"
Her face flushing at the memory, Brielle looked at the ground. "God if I know. He asked me where I would be tonight. I think he was trying to ask me to the dance, though he was going by it in a very odd way."
More cheerful now that he could see Brielle's embarrassment, Conner flashed a grin. "Well I suppose he will know better next time."
Pursing her lips in irritation, Brielle folded her arms in front of her chest. "Perish the thought. I would hate to have Erik kill him."
Laughing at the half truth in her annoyed statement, Conner reached out and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, sweeping off toward his dressing room where he had left Aria taking her afternoon nap. "Well, if you are not going to run off after Erik and leave me all on my own, I think it is high time you come along with me and begin wishing me luck. No one has yet to worship me today and I decree that you will fit the bill."
"Maybe I should ask Erik to knock you down a peg or two as well," Brielle muttered under her breath while flashing a sickeningly sweet smile up at him. "No need for me to run after him. He is still watching us after all. And shame on you for saying you are alone. Did I not leave Aria with you to keep you company out of the goodness of my heart?"
Snorting, Conner slowly swept their surrounding area with an incredulous air. "How can you tell? That he is still around that is?"
Likewise raising her eyes, a subtle smile softening her expression, Brielle leaned against her brother's arm. "He is always watching here. Always…"
More out of instinct than anything else her gaze traveled along the far wall, coming to rest upon a shadowed corner in the back of the room. Something deep and elemental shifted behind her eyes, tempering them to the color of tarnished silver as she stared fixedly into the darkness beyond the reach of the gas lights. Following her gaze, Conner could pick out nothing special about that spot. Feeling as if he were missing something, he merely smiled and patted her hand, moving off through the crowd with the shivering sensation of being watched slithering up his spine.
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Leaning against an out-of-the-way corner Erik peered around the edge, his eyes sharp and focused on one single person within the crowd. People passed in and out of his line of sight, momentarily blocking her from his view, but his eyes never blinked, never wavered, staying singly fixed upon her with a burning intensity it would put the sun to shame. She turned then, as if feeling the touch of his gaze, her eyes coming around to knowingly collide with his. As always a shock of awed disbelief swept through him as her full mouth slowly tilted up into a smile. Smiling at him.
Letting out a deep sigh, he leaned his forehead against the wall, the tension seemingly melting away under the warmth of her gaze. When had it become so easy for this woman to soothe him with just one look? Even the seething fury at James Turner for having dared to touch her slowly began to dissolve, and the suffocating panic he had felt when faced with conversing with Meg Giry likewise faded into a memory.
Smiling at the thought, Erik paid no mind to a group of ballerinas that fluttered past him, sure that none would recognize him even if they did happen to notice him. When one figure broke away from the group and stood immobile just at the corner of his vision, he finally tore his eyes away from Brielle to glance toward that still person. Recognizing the black clad woman with a silent curse, Erik turned his face away from her, thinking that if he just moved away slowly she might not take notice of him.
He had no such luck. As he hunched his shoulders and stepped backward, Madame Giry turned her head toward him, her razor sharp gaze quick to land upon his looming form. She frowned for a moment, studying him with the same intense concentration she used to study her students, then her mouth fell open on a wave of startled recognition. Freezing in mid-step, Erik bit out several curses, not knowing what to do now that he had been caught.
The dance mistress, shaking off her initial shock, hurriedly raced up to him, a slightly strained expression tightening the skin about her vivid eyes. She stopped just short of where he stood, her hand shooting out as if to grab his arm, but she pulled back before actually touching him. "I did not think I would ever see you again!"
Quickly flashing a worried look over the top of her head, he took hold of her hand and dragged her back into a side hallway, safely away from prying eyes. "I did not intend for you to see me now," he finally snapped, his irritation at being caught making his voice harsher than he had intended. This is a disaster! I am an idiot! Where did all of my discipline go? A year ago I would never have been caught off guard. I was so busy watching Brielle that I hardly noticed anything else. And she is counting on me… what with her dreams lately. It has me worried. Damn! Damn! Damn!
Her face pinched into stern lines at his tone. Throwing back her dainty shoulders, she squared off against him, taking on the exact stance she used on her most troublesome students. "Do not snap at me!" she exclaimed, shaking an admonishing finger under his nose.
Startled by her bravado, Erik dropped her hand and jerked back a step. It had been so long since the last time they had spoken, and he had forgotten how forceful she could be. He had forgotten how childish she could make him feel, and strangely enough he found he had missed her no-nonsense manner. Fighting the amusement he felt bubbling up within him, Erik deepened his scowl. He didn't have time to reconnect with an old… sort of friend. Deciding he needed to be free from Giry as quickly as possible, Erik raked one gloved hand through his hair, searching for a plan of action.
"I have wanted to speak to you for some time and I think now is the perfect time, now that I have you in front of me," Madame Giry fired at him.
"I do not think so. I do not have the time," he stated dismissively.
Sniffing at that, she merely crossed her arms across her chest. "You will speak with me now!"
Opening his mouth to snap back at her, Erik quickly shut it again, reining in his temper. Feeling his face heat furiously behind his mask, he fisted his hands at his sides. "Fine! Speak!" he ground out between clenched teeth.
Having stiffened in preparation for the usual temperamental explosion, Madame Giry blinked at his controlled reaction. Her brows coming down in careful consideration she was a little slow to respond. "I do not like what I have been seeing around the Opera. I know you have been focusing a great deal of attention on Madame Donner. She is a nice girl who does not need…"
Her words struck him as brutally as white hot pokers shoved through his gut, finally snapping the tenuous control he had on his temper. Baring his teeth in a sign of true fury, Erik turned to slam a fist into the wall next to him. Hearing Brielle's disapproving voice in his head 'tsk, tsking' his actions, he froze in mid action, settling his fists stiffly at his sides. "What? Does not need a man like me lurking in her shadow? Is that what you are saying?"
Looking distinctly puzzled now, Madame Giry shook her head. "I did not say that, Erik. You know I would never suggest such a thing," she said with a certain air of affronted hurt. Softening her strict stance slightly, she looked him straight in the eye. "If I shared such a view I would never have risked helping a small boy hide here all those years ago."
Relaxing slowly, Erik sighed. "Your concern does you justice. Considering everything… what else is to be expected?" Allowing the shadow of a smile to soften his fierce expression, he raised one hand in a placating motion. "You do not have to worry about Madame Donner. I have no ill-conceived designs upon her. I would cut off my own hands before harming her."
A weighted silence stretched out between them then, thrumming with years of words unspoken and misunderstandings. "You have changed," Madame Giry finally breathed. "Truly you are not the same man that I once knew."
Caught off guard by the gentleness in her tone, Erik cleared his throat uncomfortably and edged further away from her, wondering at her strange statement. "I am mostly the same I think…"
"No, something has altered you greatly. Twice now you have been on the edge of losing your temper but twice you have pulled yourself back from falling into a rage. Once you would not have exercised such control. Once you could not have found such control."
Staring at the older woman, Erik mulled over the truth in her words with a satisfied smile. She is right, of course, but it is not, was not, a 'thing' that changed me… it was a 'who.' Thinking of Brielle only made him wonder where she was at that moment, and what trouble she surely had gotten herself into since he last saw her. "Well it has been a year…" he dodged.
Narrowing her eyes at his vague reply, Madame Giry frowned up at him. "There is something you are not saying. What is it? I demand to know what it is."
Knowing perfectly well that she would hound him until he told her something, Erik caved in. "After the fire last year I was taken in by a woman and her family. She was a terrifying sort of female, so as a matter of survival I learned to be a little more diplomatic in my dealings with other people."
"It was Madame Donner, wasn't it?" the dance mistress instantly burst out, a glittering happiness Erik had never seen in her before shining in her eyes. "You already knew her when she came here. That is why you gave Aria that music box…and why you have been giving them special attention." Clapping her hands, a disturbing wet sheen filled her eyes. She waited a beat and then continued. "I am so glad for you. All these years my heart has ached for what your life had become… that I could not do more for you. To hear that someone finally treated you kindly…" Breaking off, she reached up to wipe at her face where two tears had tracked down her cheeks.
Grimacing at the sight of her tears, Erik felt his gut clench in response; he hated seeing a woman cry. Desperate to get her to stop her weeping, he reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Do not do that. Get a hold of yourself."
Sniffing slightly, Madame Giry looked down at the hand on her shoulder only to have more tears leak from her eyes. Then suddenly her expression lightened and she clasped her hands over her mouth. The tears disappeared and a sly gleam sharpened her gaze. "I should have known… she is a very singular individual. I knew it the moment I saw her come into the theater… I knew I had to get her to stay. She befriended my daughter and puts up with Carlotta… I should have known she could navigate your dreadful personality. You know… Brielle is a very pretty young lady."
Blinking at Madame Giry blankly for a moment; Erik's mouth dropped open when he finally realized the line of her thoughts. "No!...Er… rather, yes she is, but…" Letting out a frustrated growl he clamped his mouth shut. "I do not have time for this. You do not understand… There may be trouble underfoot."
Sobering quickly, Madame Giry's brow wrinkled in concern. "What? What trouble?"
"Our new patron is not who he seems to be. He used to be Brie… er… Madame Donner's fiancée. She fled from him in fear of her life. I wait every day for him to come looking for her here… it is just a matter of time. I was…um… watching over her when you noticed me."
Raising a hand to worry over his jaw, he looked over Madame Giry's head, his mind once again wondering where Brielle might be. "I am… glad to speak with you again, madame… but I must go." Turning sharply on his heel, he began to stalk off down the hall. Pausing, he looked back at her. "If you should see Lord Donovan… please, will you warn her?" he asked slowly, unused to asking for help from anyone.
Pursing her lips into a tight line, the dance mistress nodded. "You do not even have to ask, Erik. You know I will always help you. We do not like trouble here… and if there is a danger from outside to one of our own it will not be tolerated," she said vehemently. "But go now… go, go. I see I have kept you too long. And I have found out everything I wanted to anyway."
Inclining his head slightly in farewell Erik turned and swept off down the hallway, his black cape billowing out behind him as he went. A dark leer tightened the angles of his face as his winter blue eyes scanned ahead. Buoyed by Madame Giry's pledge, his mind raced with plans of defense. It was impossible to know where or when Lord Donovan would strike, but at least now he had a sense of control. And at that moment he dared Andrew to come, for he longed to break every bone in the man's body.
"Danger from the outside will not be tolerated, indeed," he murmured aloud on a dark chuckle.
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Standing safely out of the way in one of the wings, Brielle watched the Opera Populaire prepare to raise its curtain for the first time in over a year. Beside her, plopped unceremoniously upon the floor, Aria beamed at the stage, her pale rain-colored eyes reflecting the glow of the gas lights. A finicky round of applause rolled out of the darkened theater as the performers took their places, and everyone backstage crossed themselves for good luck. It seemed that the patrons tonight would not easily be entertained.
Worrying her bottom lip with both apprehension and excitement, Brielle clasped her hands to her chest and waited for the orchestra to strike their first note. Over the buzz of the still conversing crowd, Conner's violin suddenly wailed to life, the first few notes echoing mournfully throughout the theater, silencing the audience with an almost brutal effectiveness. The rest of the musicians soon followed suit, blending together in a mathematical precision that hinted at the endless hours of practice the men had endured. Clapping her hands excitedly, Aria bounced her bottom upon the floor as the stagehands pulled up the curtain a few feet away from them.
With her heart pounding like a frightened bird in her chest, Brielle could hardly bear the tension as she watched Mephistopheles, played by the resident bass, cause a stir outside of the inn in the opening act. The entire scene played out to perfection, slowly garnering more and more appreciation from the reluctant audience as each song went by.
Knowing the ins and outs behind every effect and set did nothing to retract from the play; in a way it enhanced it because she knew exactly just how hard everyone had worked for this night. Standing utterly still, Brielle felt herself pulled into the storyline, her mind and its worries soothed by the fantasy and the music that Gounod had created decades ago. The only thing that could have made the moment any better was if Erik had been standing beside her.
Carlotta pranced through her parts with all her normal overblown dramatics, but amazingly enough her voice was able to convey the youth and exuberance of Marguerite, the main female part, even if her acting did not. When her feet grew tired of standing, Brielle settled herself upon the floor next to Aria, bringing the child into her lap as they both sat with eyes fixed upon the stage. This is fun… I never thought it would be this much fun. I have always thought of it as work up until now. Lord, I almost wish I could sing to be able to do what they are doing… almost. Thinking on how terrifying performing in front of a crowd would be, Brielle wrinkled her nose.
A slow, cool prickling of the flesh at the base of her neck had Brielle turning her eyes from the stage just as the fourth act began. She knew someone was watching her, but as she scanned the others in the nearby area she could see no one looking at her. Shrugging off the sensation, Brielle turned back to the stage. It is probably just Erik again. I have felt his eyes upon me throughout the entire evening, she reasoned, though deep down she knew it had not been him. Erik's gaze was always like the summer sun upon her skin, heating, and comforting.
Not allowing herself to become so fully engrossed in the play again, Brielle watched with one ear always craned to her surroundings. Even when Meg took the stage in her big solo, Brielle was distantly conscious of the movements of every person nearby. Meg left the stage to thunderous applause, passing by Brielle with a giant grin upon her face. She paused momentarily at Brielle's side and bent to wrap her in an ecstatic hug before rushing off to prepare for the next scene.
When the curtain finally dropped for the last time Brielle climbed to her feet and swung Aria up onto her hip, the roar of the audience echoing through the backstage all around her. Making her way towards Carlotta's dressing room, knowing that the diva would expect a compliment or two, Brielle listened to Aria's excited chatter with a smile. Faust had been a success, and it was sure to bring the Opera House back to the forefront of Parisian culture. Perhaps, things would work out after all. Maybe her dreams had been nightmares after all.
Practically skipping the rest of the way, Brielle was surprised to find Carlotta already getting undressed within her dressing room. Looking up at her arrival, with her face flushed in excitement, Carlotta flashed her a toothy grin. "Dey love me! Did you hear dem clapping?" Not waiting for an answer, the diva threw her costume upon the couch and stepped into the dress she had bought for the masque.
Putting Aria down, Brielle helped her employer do up the buttons of her dress and to arrange the mask upon her face. "You did do wonderfully."
"Yes, I did," Carlotta heartily agreed, her dark eyes sparkling like a schoolgirl's from behind her gold, dragon-inspired mask. "And I look good! De dragon is nice, yes? Everyone else will be someting boring. Come as de most wild and exotic animals… it is fun!"
Dazzled by the rich, glittering silk of Carlotta's dress, Aria stood wide-eyed in the middle of the floor, her thumb firmly stuck into her mouth. "M-Momma, can I g-go to the p-party?" she finally asked, holding the hem of her dress out in the same grand manner she had just seen Carlotta execute.
"I am sorry, Love, but only adults get to go to the dance tonight."
"Are you g-going to go with Erik?" Aria wheedled with a slight pout upon her face, her question drawing Carlotta's attention.
"Erik? I tink you should go. 'E is de man we were talking about, yes?"
"Y-Yes!" Aria quickly agreed.
Feeling slightly ganged up upon, Brielle shook her head sternly. "No, absolutely not. I am sure it would be entertaining, but I have nothing to wear and I know for a fact that Erik would not wish to go," she said, hoping that was the end of the conversation.
Pouting her lips just as Aria was, Carlotta fisted her hands upon her hips. "Ah! 'E is shy, den? Well, I will tell 'im to go wit you!"
Laughing slightly at that, Brielle continued to shake her head. "No, I am going to put Aria to bed and then go to sleep myself." Before Carlotta could protest further, Brielle ushered Aria toward the door. "Have fun tonight, Carlotta! I will see you in the morning!" Hurrying out the door, Brielle cut off anything else the diva may have wanted to say.
Swinging their clasped hands between them, Brielle walked the short distance to her own room. Finding the door already open she went inside. Seeing a large white box sitting upon her small table she paused in the doorway. Seeing nothing else out of the ordinary she went to the table, confusion wrinkling her brow as she picked up the piece of paper sitting on top of it. Typed on the outside of the paper was the address of a local dressmaker. Even more curious now she opened the letter and quickly read it.
Madame, would you do me the honor of attending the ball with me tonight? It read simply in the same type as the outside of the letter.
Flipping the paper over curiously, Brielle looked to her daughter with a frown. "What in the world?"
"O-Open it! Open it!" Aria shouted, dancing about the table in excitement.
Reaching out, Brielle lifted the lid off the box. "All right… all right, settle down and I…"
Stopping in mid-sentence Brielle found herself staring down at the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. Made of soft white satin, the bodice shimmered enticingly, the pure color at odds with the fashionably low neckline. Lace so fine it appeared to be made of spun silver coiled into seductive patterns from bust to hips, accentuating the curves of the small waist. It was a dress seemingly made for Winter herself, pure and tempting but remotely beautiful all the same.
Gasping out loud, Brielle lifted it from the box and shook the full skirts out, the fabric whispering in the quiet of the room. Not quite believing what was before her eyes, she checked the note again, utterly flabbergasted. Then slowly a smile pulled her mouth open into a laugh. That sneak! Erik must have sent this. Had he planned this all along or did he somehow sense that I would love to go to this party? Lord, I would never have asked to go because I know how he hates being out in the open…but…Grinning from ear to ear, a wave of pure delight washed through her body. There was something secret and exciting about thinking of dancing with Erik in a crowd. It was just so alluring, so dangerous that she could not help but feel her heart skitter within her chest and a flush burn up her cheeks.
"Are you g-going to the p-party now?" Aria asked with an I-told-you-so smile.
Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth Brielle weighed her choices. Now she really had no excuse not to go, she had something splendid to wear, had a man to meet her there. If it were not for my stupid dreams…though really I have no idea when the dreams are warning me of. It could be tomorrow… or next week. I have no reason to suspect that anything will happen tonight. And really because there are so many people here what could happen? Letting out a throaty breath, Brielle laid the gown on the table and began unbuttoning her own dress, deciding to go, for a little while anyway. In her undergarments she stepped into the billowing satin, pulling the dress up and threading her arms through the sleeves.
A light knock sounded upon her door just as she began struggling to do up the buttons running up her back. Marie's wizened face appeared before Brielle could even invite her in. "I thought you would be here… but I see you are going to go and waste your time at that idiotic party as well. I had hoped you would not be so foolish. God almighty, there is nowhere in this place that can escape the racket of the blasted band they hired."
Not allowing the old woman's dreary outlook to dampen her own happiness, Brielle smiled brightly at the ancient cleaning woman. "Will you help me with the buttons? If you do you can stay in here with Aria. This room is the furthest from the front and is very quiet."
Rolling her eyes, Marie stepped further into the room. "Fine, but I am only doing this because I like you." Grabbing Brielle by the shoulders, she spun the Irishwoman around and went to work upon the buttons. "Really, you should be doing something more useful with your time… like practicing those cards that I gave you."
"Yes, I am sure," Brielle agreed easily. When the last button was done she whirled around and planted a kiss upon the old woman's cheek. "I have to go. I won't stay long… maybe an hour."
Dazed by the blatant show of affection, Marie waved her off. "Well, at least do not forget your mask," Marie reminded her as she plucked a delicate feathered half mask out of the box. "It appears you are going as a dove…hmm… it suits you. Except for the dark hair. If you had a pale wig it would be perfect."
Blinking at the irony in that suggestion, Brielle couldn't suppress a laugh. Running behind a changing screen she pulled her black wig from her head and hid it in her boudoir. Uncoiling the long white braids she wore underneath she hurriedly brushed out her hair and came out from behind the screen. "Would this one work? Funny that I had one just lying around."
Staring at her oddly for several moments, Marie nodded. "But you must let me do it up right for you," she commanded, grabbing a jar of hairpins from the dresser top.
Half an hour later Brielle stepped from her room, a vision all in white. Gazing out from behind the safety of her mask, she took off toward the grand entrance where she knew the party was already underway and where she knew Erik must be waiting for her. She heard the sounds of revelry long before she met up with anyone else. When she did begin to pass other partygoers, she found herself stopping to stare at the wondrous costumes of birds, reptiles, and even fish that the others were wearing. Busy studying everything around her, she missed the stir she herself was causing. Men of all shapes and sizes stopped whatever they were doing as she passed them, frozen in mid action, their eyes following her with acute interest, wondering who the lady in white could be.
I wonder who is who… Spotting a woman strut by, peacock feathers fluttering in the breeze, Brielle began laughing out loud, thinking of a dozen snotty ballerinas who could be behind the purple mask. Oh this is too much fun! Moving into the main party area, Brielle craned her neck, attempting to see over the gathered crowd, looking for the familiar broad shoulders and elegant figure of a very particular masked man. Unable to see anyone she knew, Brielle skirted along the edge of the room, coming out breathlessly near the refreshment table. Accepting a cup of punch she watched the crowd, worrying how she would ever find Erik in the sea of people cavorting out upon the marble floor and staircases.
A redheaded gentleman, wearing a fox-inspired mask, burst out of the crowd then, dragging with him a petite blonde wearing a set of delicate set of antlers and the mask of a deer. Turning to look furiously behind, the man shook his fist and shouted. "Next time you try dancing with a lady without her permission you will be losing some of your teeth! God, Meg, when I told the managers about your dancing I had no idea so many drunken louts would try to paw at you!"
The young lady laughed at that and rose up on her toes to plant a kiss upon his cheek. "But I have you to protect my honor, sir. So it should not be a problem!" Meg teased. Something in her manner and posture distinctly altered from before the opera, gone was the wariness, the caution. She looked at him the same way Brielle had seen herself looking at Erik.
"Conner? Meg?" Brielle asked uncertainly as the pair came up next to her.
Startled, Conner turned his head toward her. His green eyes narrowing behind his mask, he studied her for a moment. "Who are…" Then suddenly recognition flickered across his expression. "God, Bri! I didn't know you were coming! Where the hell did you get that dress? You look like something heaven would spit out."
"I wasn't going to come but when I got back to my room I found this with a note from Erik to meet him here."
Clasping her hands together in delight, Meg sighed. "Oh, that is sooo romantic!"
"Yes, but I have not found him yet and I have been looking for at least twenty minutes."
"Hmm, well, if we see him we will let you know," Conner offered cheerfully, already tugging on Meg's arm to return to the dance floor, his eyes hungrily fixated upon her smiling face.
Slapping at Conner's hands, Meg turned to Brielle. "Do you want us to stay with you until you find him?"
"No, that is all right. Go and have fun!" she said with a wave, watching them both disappear back into the crowd. Setting her now empty cup onto a nearby table, Brielle continuously scanned the room, becoming just a little impatient to find Erik.
Tapping her feet to the beat of the waltz that was playing, Brielle heard a slight murmur spread through the people in front of her. Following the gazes of several nearby partygoers, she spotted a handsomely dressed gentleman appear at the top of the grand staircase. There was nothing remarkable about his clothing, being merely a regular set of dress clothes, but the way that he held himself, so predatorily still, hinted at the strength of the man behind the simple eagle-inspired mask. The man stood immobile for several moments, his eyes sweeping carefully across the people below as his mouth turned down at the corners in concentration.
Even before he moved to gracefully descend the first step, Brielle knew whose face lay behind the fierce beaked mask. Her heart leapt into her throat as she darted forward into the crowd, making a beeline for the base of the stairs. She reached the bottom step when Erik was halfway down the staircase. His eyes locked upon her instantly, burning bright and blue through the eye holes of his mask, and he hurried the rest of the way down the stairwell. Coming to a stop one step above her, he towered over her, looking mouthwateringly regal and just a little dangerous.
His gaze raked over her form, drinking her in as if his life depended upon it. "I look away from you one moment and then I cannot find you again for the next hour. Have you been out here all this time?" he asked, his tone slightly edgy as he moved to avoid contact with several women passing by him.
"Yes, I was looking for you."
His lips pressed together slightly, the only indication of his confusion visible from behind the mask. "Why did you think I would be her…" Interrupted by several partygoers that were passing by, he did not get to finish his question.
When he opened his mouth to ask again, Brielle reached out and took his hand in hers. "You seem to always be reading my mind. I did not want to tell you how much I wanted to come here tonight because I did not want to make you feel as if you should come… but here you are anyway!" she gushed, slowly drawing him down from his step to her level.
"Wherever you go, Bri, you know I will always follow," he muttered roughly, using the shortened version of her name. She had never heard a sweeter endearment than the way this man simply used her name. Leaning forward, he bent his head to press his lips intimately against her ear. "You look breathtaking. When I first saw you at the bottom of the stairs I was sure I was granted a momentary glimpse of heaven. But even with that mask on I knew it was you as surely as I know myself. And blast it, if that white dress doesn't just make me want to rip it off of you."
Flushing with delight as his warm breath bathed the sensitive skin along her neck Brielle sighed deeply, her bones practically melting with his every word. "Keep talking like that and I am afraid I will be merely a puddle at your feet."
Smiling wickedly he pulled back, the worry seemingly disappearing from his gaze as he planted chaste kiss upon her forehead. "Maybe that is precisely what I want. Bri, what do you think about leaving all this noise and finding a nice quiet spot somewhere. A nice quiet, dark, secluded spot…" he asked, his voice practically purring out the last words.
Feeling the magical pull of his voice, Brielle barely found the strength to shake her head. "That would be lovely, but first I want to share one dance with you… out here in front of everyone. I got all dressed up for you and I want to enjoy this fantastic dress just a little bit longer."
Pouting, actually pouting, Erik let out a deeply bereaved sigh. "One dance… I will suffer through one dance."
"That is all I ask," Brielle said on a laugh, pulling the former Phantom of the Opera out onto the dance floor to join the hundred other couples already in motion.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Watching Aria playing happily upon the floor with an odd music box, Marie felt her eyes begin to grow heavy with fatigue. She knew she would soon begin to doze off if she didn't have something to occupy her mind with. I really should stay awake so long as the child is. It just wouldn't do for her to be running about while I nod off in this chair.
"Hey you," she began gruffly. "I think it is high time that you went to bed."
"I am not v-very tired," Aria replied calmly. "But if y-you are you c-can go to sleep. I w-won't go anywhere."
"You are sort of missing the point," Marie grumbled as she creakily got to her feet. Preparing to chase the child into her bed the old cleaning lady jumped when a knock sounded upon the door. Changing directions, she stomped to the entrance and flung the door open. "What is it?" she snapped before even bothering to see who was there.
James Turner visibly winced at her sharp tone, but soon regained his composure enough to flash her a smile. "I was wondering if Madame Donner might be in. She mentioned before that she would not be going to the party and I had hoped to ask her something and…"
"She is not here right now. And if she were she would not need you to be sniffing around anyway!" Marie snapped crankily, her joints aching as she moved to shut the door in the man's face.
"Wait a moment. No need to get huffy. I only wanted to ask her if she knew where…"
Taking offence from his patronizing tone, Marie reached behind the door and grabbed the broom that was resting there. Brandishing it like a weapon, she poked the startled tenor in the chest. "I am a tired old woman but I will not be having you calling me huffy right to my face!" Smacking him with the broom again, she managed to fright the man so badly that he stumbled back several feet.
"Wait! I didn't mean…"
Not really wanting to hear any excuses, and secretly having a great deal of fun at his expense, Marie charged out of the doorway, broom still in hand. Seeing that she meant to hit him again, James turned and took off down the hallway, cursing colorfully over his shoulder as the old cleaning lady chased after him. Watching the pair with wide laughing eyes, Aria stood in the doorway with her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth.
"G-Grown ups are f-funny…" she muttered with a shake of her head.
Coming around a nearby corner, Father Thomas gazed curiously down the hall after the retreating figures. Turning to blink at Aria owlishly from behind his glasses, the young priest offered her a smile. "What in the world was that about?"
Shrugging, Aria took her thumb out of her mouth with a loud pop. "T-That man c-called Marie h-huffy. So she c-chased him."
Making a dramatic face for Aria's benefit, Father Thomas reached up to adjust his glasses. "Goodness, I guess that is what he gets for calling names."
Glad to have found someone who shared her mindset, Aria giggled. "Yes! T-That is w-what I think!"
His smile dimming slightly, the priest looked over her head and into the room behind her. "Is there no one else watching you then?"
Shaking her head, completely unconcerned, Aria bunched her hands into the long skirt of her night dress. "No, it w-was only M-Marie. M-Momma went to the d-dance. I w-would have g-gone with M-Momma, but I am too little."
Nodding his head thoughtfully, a nervous wrinkle marring his brow, Father Thomas took a step forward. "Ah, well, I wasn't invited to go to the party either."
"You w-weren't!"
Dabbing at the beaded sweat upon his forehead, he shook his head. "Oh no, people never like to have a priest at their parties. You see, most people think priests are no fun."
Coming out of the doorway, Aria reached out and took the blond man's hand. "I t-think you are a l-lot of fun!" she intoned enthusiastically.
"Well thank you," he said slowly, his large blue eyes darkening as his sandy eyebrows drew down into a grim frown. "Um…I…uh…" Seeming rather befuddled, he couldn't quite get any words past his lips for several moments. Taking a deep breath, he was able to gather up some control. "I have an idea…" he croaked, a thick layer of guilt crackling in his voice. "How about I look after you until Marie gets back from beating that man? We can take a short walk around… maybe peek in on the dance for a little while?"
"Yeah! T-That sounds l-like fun!" Aria agreed happily, skipping along with the priest as he turned and led her down the hall. Chattering the whole way about how pretty her mother had looked in her new dress, she didn't even notice that with each step they took, the more white-faced Father Thomas became.
Coming to a vacant area of the backstage, the priest looked almost ready to faint. Finally picking up on his distress, Aria looked up at him with large worried eyes. "Are y-you all right?"
A figure silently stepped out from behind a curtain then, the material of his dress clothes hissing through the darkness, causing Aria to jump and latch onto Father Thomas' leg. "Oh, he will be fine, Arianna," Andrew's richly cultured voice offered from the darkness. "Thank you, Father. You have served your purpose well. My associate and I will take charge of the child from now on."