Getting close to the end now. Hope you all are ready! Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews! (I promise I will get to replying to them!) And of course a huge thanks to Terpsichore! She is the best! Silver Lady7 has made a UG fan art site on deviantart. How cool is that! SO if you want your pics included I suppose give her a shout out! The site is at the following address.
http //ww w. unseengeniousclub. deviantart. com
Oh and Silvan did another fantastic pic! (This one of Erik being all Phantomy in the flames from the last chapter!) It is seriously awsome!
ht tp // ww w. deviantart. com/ view/ 37139539 / (Take out the spaces as usual)
Oh and I promised I would mention that Mlle. Fox is having a fan art contest. So if you are interested let her know!
Chapter 67: The Coming Day
Pale fingers of moonlight filtered brightly through the bars of the jailhouse window, casting stark black and white patterns against the grey stone floor. A moth fluttered into the moonbeams, its ghostly wings set aglow by the backlight. Attracted to the distant glow of the moon, the tiny bug flung itself desperately against the distorted glass, beating its wings with such a frantic energy that puffs of powder floated free of its body.
Listening to the pat patting sound of the moth's body ramming insistently against its clear barrier, Brielle turned her face away from the sight of the poor creature's struggle, fixing her eyes vacantly upon the floor instead. Huddled in the corner of the cramped cell, she clamped her arms more tightly around her knees, trying to conserve what heat she could even though she secretly wondered if freezing to death would be a kinder fate than what she now faced.
She had been imprisoned now for over a week, kept isolated from all other prisoners and in uncomfortable conditions in the hope of loosening her tongue. When the police had taken custody of her they had immediately made it clear that she was a suspect in the explosion of the Donovan warehouse and the ultimate death of two men. They had taken her to an interrogation room on one of the upper floors of the jailhouse, grilling her for the rest of the night in order to force a signed confession from her. To their utter annoyance she had kept her mouth firmly shut, admitting nothing, not even her own name. In normal circumstances she would have been happy to cooperate, after all she had committed no crime. But these were not normal circumstances.
Erik was dead, she was sure of that now. Though the detectives had sought to conceal their findings from her, Brielle had been able to glean a few tidbits from their whispered conversations. Only two bodies had been discovered in the Seine, one with a broken neck and one too badly burned to recognize, but no other survivors had been picked up either. It did not take a genius to figure out Erik must either be the burnt body found or lost to the currents of the river.
And now Brielle couldn't quite force herself to care much about her own fate. The grief curling within her belly was almost a living thing in its ferocious consumption of every last shred of her sense of self preservation, of her heart, mind and soul. It fogged her mind and dulled her senses until the world appeared as nothing more than a graveyard, gray, and washed of all color. And though she tried with all her might she couldn't remember how she had functioned without Erik at her side, couldn't remember what it felt like to be so utterly alone.
Shifting upon the rough wooden plank that served as her bunk Brielle rested her chin upon her bent knees, her eyes stark and staring off into nothing. Fatigue began to wrap its falsely soothing fingers about her mind causing her head to nod forward slightly, but she was ready to fight it off this time. Stiffening her body, Brielle reached up and pinched her cheeks in an attempt to wake herself up. Over the last week she had come to dread the setting of the sun, and the need for sleep, to fear it and the nightmares it could bring. She had already dreamt of Erik every time she allowed herself to doze off, dreamt of him in the water, unconscious and drowning, and she had no desire to repeat the experience. The reality of what she had seen firsthand was bad enough without the added details her dreams offered.
Think of something else. There are plenty of other things to think about… just… just think of something else. Forcing her thoughts away from the gruesome images of his pale face floating in the dark water, Brielle instead wondered of Aria and Conner's well-being. Despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to get any of the detectives to tell her how they were, or even where they were. I know Meg will see to Conner's health… She knew because she had dreamed of their wedding day. There was something mockingly ironic about how clear her visions appeared to her now, now that it was too late to do any good. It was almost enough to make her curse God's name, to question the flaws in His plan for her.
Is this to be what my whole life has been leading up to? Was it always supposed to end like this? If it was meant for him to die saving me then I almost wish I had never met him. Almost. Shaking her head at the lie in her own thoughts, Brielle reluctantly brought her eyes back up to the moth's continued struggle against the glass. A sharp pang of pity for the creature, and its useless fight for freedom, impelled her to her feet. As if in a dream she drifted towards the window, stepping into the shafts of moonlight, her eyes shifting beyond the moth to the starry sky beyond.
"Brielle..."
A voice whispered to her through the darkness of the night. It was Erik's voice, the French in his accent tilting her name in the same way that had once thrilled her, but now only reminded that he was gone. She would never hear her name said exactly the same way again. The reality of this realization weighed so heavily upon her mind that she was sure her body would break apart under the pressure. The rough cotton of her prison uniform chafed her skin as she wrapped both arms about her abdomen, pressing against the almost physical pain collecting there. Closing her eyes against the bittersweet agony burning through her blood, Brielle tried to force the voice out of her head even though she secretly prayed for its return. It hurts so much to hear him in the air, as if he were standing beside me… but I don't know if I have the strength to let him go yet. I feel as if I will lose my mind if even this small part of him disappears… If I begin to forget what he sounds… sounded like.
Pushing away the pain, Brielle slowly dropped her arms to her sides and glanced back up at the window. Clenching her jaw against the tears she felt burning in her eyes, she reached up and unlatched the window, nudging the glass as far forward as the bars on the other side would allow. The moth fluttered about confusedly for several seconds but then shot out the small opening she had created and into the night. Rising up onto her tiptoes, Brielle strained until she managed to see out to the moon-washed city street far below, and watching the glow of the moth's small wings fading off into the distance, a small sense of satisfaction, if not happiness, eased through her system.
Sighing, Brielle lowered herself down until the nightscape outside the window was replaced by the cold stone of her cell's walls. "At least one of us can leave this place," she mumbled to herself as she turned and reclaimed her seat in the corner. Feeling the darkness hovering within her mind threatening to overtake her once again, Brielle covered her face in despair. She knew that in time the grief would fade, but at the moment it seemed as if there would never be an end to it.
The unexpected click of a light footfall sounded from down the hallway, bringing Brielle's head up. Frowning, she listened as the sounds drew closer. In the week she had been incarcerated no one had ever been allowed to come down this hallway, except for the detectives, and by the softness of the tread she highly doubted a policeman was approaching. A hooded figure appeared outside her cell, causing Brielle to stare warily at the unusual sight.
Pulling her hood down, Madame Giry stepped close to the bars, her entire demeanor purposely subdued and stealthy. "Brielle, I do not have much time, but I must speak to you."
"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Brielle wondered aloud.
"I paid off the guards," Madame Giry replied hastily. "There is something you should know…"
Brightening slightly, Brielle's expression lightened somewhat. "Is Conner all right? The last I heard of him was back at the Opera House. And what of Aria? Who is seeing to her while I am locked in here?"
Shaking her head in frustration, Madame Giry waved a dismissive hand, obviously not considering these subjects of the greatest importance. "Conner is doing well in the hospital. The bullet did not hit anything vital. He is recovering from blood loss now. And Aria is staying with me at the moment."
"Good… that is good." A sweet sense of relief washed through her at the good news. Their well-being had been circling about her mind for days, fighting for her attention along with thought of Erik.
"Yes, but that is not what I came here to speak with you about!"
Sitting up a little straighter, Brielle tried to paste an expression of interest upon her face. Though she was dimly glad to see the older woman, nothing Madame Giry had to say to her could possibly pull her out of the well of despair she now lived in. "All right… go ahead and tell me then," she said dispassionately.
Wrapping both hands about the bars that separated them, the dance mistress's face pinched into deep lines of concern. "You are in a great deal of trouble, Brielle. They are charging you with two counts of murder. From interviewing some witnesses the police know that Lord Donovan was on that boat when it caught fire. They are assuming you started the blaze and are dead set on seeing you pay for being the cause of a noble's death."
Feeling strangely numb despite the horrific news, Brielle merely stared at Madame Giry in silence. "Then they mean to jail me for the rest of my life?" Slowly concern for what would happen to her daughter should she become a permanent prisoner ate away at the bitter ice surrounding her heart. "They cannot do that! There is no proof!"
"No… you don't understand! It is much worse than that! This is a hanging case! They mean to hang you!"
Stunned by this revelation, Brielle slumped back against the wall behind her. "Hang me?" she breathed, her mind already racing ahead to imagine what such an outcome would do to her remaining family members. "They cannot do that! What of Aria? I have to see to her!"
"They mean to set an example by you, Brielle. It doesn't matter that they do not have enough proof. You do not have a lawyer to represent your case. We are trying to gather the money in order to hire one, but they are moving extremely fast in this case, and there are very few who wish to go against the high-ranking law officials. Everyone is in everyone else's pocket. Carlotta has been practically tearing this place apart every day, trying to get to see you, but the lead detectives can tell that this sort of case could make a career. They are not letting up."
"Carlotta should not concern herself so…" Brielle began guiltily. "I have kept many secrets from her. She doesn't know that…"
Cutting Brielle off, Madame Giry frowned through the bars at her. "She knows more than you think. So does Meg. Conner ended up telling us exactly what has been going on these last few months. Carlotta did take it hard at first… she has been harboring a terrible hatred for poor Erik for so long now… but her anger cooled a bit when she found out the good he tried to do for you." After a short pause the dance mistress continued. "Meg even sent a telegram to Christine, asking her to use her title in order to help."
"Christine Daae!"
"Yes, she wrote to the mayor, but apparently the concern of a mere vicomtesse is not enough." Falling silent then, Madame Giry carefully studied Brielle's sorry state. "You must put aside your grief for a time, Brielle, if there is going to be any hope of setting you free. You must concern yourself with your own cause for now."
"That is more easily said than done, Madame," Brielle flared, finally able to throw off her gloomy attitude. "I lost the man I loved more than life itself. My brother was seriously injured. My daughter, at the moment, is parentless. And now I must face the gallows! It is too much! I cannot take another blow! And I cannot set aside my grief as if it were a piece of porcelain, placed upon a shelf and forgotten. I cannot do it! Don't you see? All this is my fault! It all links back to me! Had it not been for me, Conner would be fine… and… Erik would still be alive!" Her voice broke upon his name and the temper melted out of her, replaced quickly with agonizing guilt.
Pursing her lips at Brielle through the bars, Madame Giry fixed her with a quelling glare. "Despite what you think, you have helped a great deal of people at the Opera…"
"Oh really?" Brielle snapped bitterly.
"Yes. It is almost strange to think what we were all like before your little family came to us. Meg grew strong with you as her friend. Strong enough to take hold of her dreams. Carlotta grew up. And Erik… Erik learned what love really is. He was willing to risk his life for it. Perhaps that is why all of this happened… you saved his eternal soul, child. The road that brought you to us surely was lit by God's will. Can you not see that?"
"I hardly think all that is because of me."
"Well as you said before… it all links back to you."
Despite her firm resolve to remain unconvinced, Brielle felt a slight warmth soothe the ache in her heart. "You are kind for saying such things. In case I do not see you again… please know that I am grateful for everything everyone has been doing for me."
Narrowing her eyes, Madame Giry shook her head. "That sounds suspiciously like a good-bye to me."
"No… not a good-bye."
"Good, because we are not giving up on you… so I forbid you to give up on yourself," Madame Giry huffed, turning her head toward a slight sound from down the hallway.
Buoyed by the faith of her friends, Brielle managed to smile brokenly up at Madame Giry. "I suppose I do not have a choice then…"
"Good," Madame Giry stated as she raised her hood up over her graying hair. "I think I am close to the limit of my visit now. A bribe can only buy so much time. Try to keep up your spirits."
"Aye, aye," Brielle said with a little bit of her usual sarcasm, her more lively manner drawing a quick smile from Madame Giry as the older woman turned and hurried down the hallway. As soon as the dance mistress was out of sight, Brielle's smile waned, then disappeared. She felt strangely drained by the lighthearted expression, as if it had taken all her energy to wipe the sorrow from her face. Sighing heavily, Brielle leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes turning to the bars of moonlight shimmering upon the floor.
"Brielle…Brielle…" The voice whispered insistently in the silence following Madame Giry's visit.
Making a choked sound in the back of her throat, Brielle climbed shakily to her feet and stumbled across the floor. God… I feel him within me. Calling to me from beyond the grave… like a Siren's call. Sinking to her knees underneath the barred window, Brielle clasped her hands before her. Bowing her head, the moonlight glinting in her loose hair, she desperately began to pray for release from the connection she had long felt tying herself to Erik. She simply could not withstand the deathly pull; it would drag her further down the chasm of her grief.
"Please God, release me. If there is something more I must do in this life… please help dull the feeling of him. Please…"
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Awaking the next morning to the sound of heavy footsteps outside her cell, Brielle sat up with a start, her heart leaping up into her throat. Madame Giry said they were trying to move the case along, but surely the day has not come already. They haven't even told me I have been charged with anything… they can't hang a person without telling them why… Clenching her hands at her sides in fear, Brielle waited stoically for the people marching down the hallways to appear before her cell. In the back of her mind she felt Erik's presence grow stronger, soothing the fear choking her now. Despite what she had prayed for the night before, she was glad to feel him so near to her, as if there were a piece of him resting just beside her beating heart.
Two guards appeared at the door of her cell followed by a stout older man in business attire. The older gentleman took one look at her pale face and dirty clothing before turning to rail furiously at the guards next to him, his entire face turning a dangerous shade of purple. Startled by the outburst, Brielle could only gape as the guards hung their heads at the man's admonition.
Rubbing a hand nervously over his carefully curled mustache, the strange gentleman finally turned back to Brielle, the anger still flashing in his eyes. "Madame," he began, his tone almost overly respectful. "If you would please come with me? I have much to discuss with you." Motioning to one of the guards, the man impatiently waited for the door to be opened.
Is this truly it? Do they plan to execute me today? Is this gentleman here to formally charge me with the crimes? she wondered as a wave of panic pounded through her body. Staying stubbornly where she was, Brielle looked back and forth between the guards and the stranger. "Who are you, Monsieur? What do you mean to do to me?"
His expression softening slightly the older man cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Madame. I am Jacques Leclerc. I am an attorney here in Paris and I have come to discuss some very important matters with you."
Her mouth forming an 'o' of understanding, Brielle rose to her feet, the fear evaporating from her mind as she crossed the floor to him. Madame Giry and everyone must have worked quickly to have already secured me representation, she thought with relief. Maybe her situation was not as hopeless as it had seemed last night. Not quite able to rustle up a smile for this stranger, Brielle did her best to at least appear pleasant.
"I am glad to meet you then, Monsieur Leclerc."
Nodding, the attorney turned and fixed the two guards with a steely glare before stepping between them and out into the hallway. "Follow me please. We will speak in more suitable surroundings."
Hesitating on the threshold of her cell, Brielle glanced up and down the hallway. "Where are we going? Am I allowed to… to leave?"
Blinking back at her, Leclerc nodded. "But of course, Madame Donovan. Have no fear and just come with me."
Moving to follow the man as he asked, Brielle stepped out into the hall, the ragged hem of her prison uniform dragging across the floor. The attorney led her from the cellblock and down a long hallway to a slightly more comfortable area where interrogations were usually held. Opening a nearby door, he went into one of the questioning rooms and sat down at the table within. Following suit Brielle did the same, wondering what this man planned to do to help her out of the mess she was in.
Pulling a small sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket, Leclerc smiled across the table at her. "I must apologize for the conditions you have endured over the last week, but I only just this morning discovered the full extent of your plight. Do you need anything before we begin our discussion? Should I call for more comfortable clothing? Or something to eat perhaps?"
Surprised by the man's kindness, Brielle studied him for several moments in silence. "No, I am fine. Thank you for asking though."
Clearing his throat Leclerc nodded, laying the papers out onto the table between them. "All right then. I am sure you are anxious to begin."
"Yes. Forgive me, but I am wondering what you plan to do in order to help my situation. From what I have been told it is rather grave."
Frowning in confusion, the man tilted his head to the side. "Excuse me?"
"I have heard from a friend that they plan to convict me of crimes I did not commit… of murder." Gulping slightly, she continued. "They plan to hang me to make an example."
Paling at her words, Leclerc raised both hands up to run through his graying hair. "I had hoped you hadn't heard of that outrageous example of stupidity. Do not worry, Madame. Nothing of the sort will happen to you. You are perfectly safe."
Sitting up straighter, Brielle felt hope begin to take root within her heart. "Do you have a plan for the trial, then?"
"No, no, no…" Leclerc said, waving both hands before him. "You misunderstand… the charges have been dropped, Madame Donovan. You will never have to endure anything so demeaning as a trial."
Her brow crinkled in confusion as she tried to understand what he was telling her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, considering who you are, Madame, it would be foolish indeed for any Parisian public official to follow through on such ridiculous charges. That and they would be doubly foolish to try and bring such a weak case before a judge when I am your defense lawyer. I mean really there wasn't enough evidence… for all we know Lord Andrew accidentally set that fire himself and just wasn't able to make it off the boat in time. And of course there is the fact that and the Donovan name owns half this town. His death most certainly is not your fault."
"Considering who I am?" Brielle repeated, her confusion growing by the moment as she latched onto those words.
"Yes," the attorney said slowly, obviously seeing the befuddled expression upon her face. "You are Brielle Donovan the widow of young Lord Jonathan Donovan."
"Yes, but I do not see how that has anything to do with this. I have no influence, Monsieur. And when my husband married me he was disinherited."
Leaning forward, with the intent air of one who was about to reveal a great secret, Leclerc flashed her a charming smile. "But do you not see what that means? You are the mother of the last member of the Donovan bloodline. Arianna Donovan is the sole heir of the Donovan title."
"But…but… but she is a girl child… she cannot inherit the title…" Brielle sputtered.
"Yes, that is normally the case. Usually only the male members can come into a title; however, this is not the usual case." Ruffling through the papers on the table, he pulled out an aged piece of parchment and laid it out before her. "This is a copy of a very old document that details the inheritance of the Donovan title. It is a very ancient text, and follows equally ancient rules. The founders of the family, the very first Lord and Lady Donovans, were more concerned with keeping the bloodline pure than if the title should go to a male heir. Since Arianna is the last of the bloodline she is the automatic default heir."
Staring across the table at the man as if he had grown two heads, Brielle glanced momentarily down at the papers before her, her mind going completely blank. Of all the things she had expected to hear today, this was not it. "Monsieur, I do not know what to say…"
Nodding his head in understanding, Leclerc again shuffled through the papers. "Yes, I suppose this must be very shocking to you. However, I do have one other point to discuss with you."
"What else?" Brielle breathed, hardly able to find her voice over the shock clouding her mind. Underneath the table her hands began to shake within her lap.
Pulling out a newer-looking packet of papers, Leclerc set these on top of the pile. "Yes, and now we must discuss Lord Andrew's last will and testament."
A chill shivered down her spine at the mention of Andrew's name, but Brielle ignored the sensation, keeping her expression impassive. "All right…"
"Lord Andrew worked for most of his life to increase his family's holdings. He was very successful in this endeavor. Now the wealth of the Donovan family extends well beyond what was originally included under the original title…"
Finding the discussion of Andrew's success distasteful Brielle turned her face away, staring at the floor to hide the flash of heat she knew was burning in her eyes. "Why does that have anything to do with me?"
Looking up at her with a smile Leclerc brushed his fingers over his mustache. "Well, Lord Andrew left the entirety of his estate to you, Madame. I suppose he felt guilty that his father disinherited his brother and left you with nothing… so he wished to see to your comfort."
Pursing her lips into a frown, Brielle stopped herself from correcting this man. There weren't enough hours in the day to detail just how wrong he was about Andrew's intentions. No doubt he had included her in his will because he had be certain all along that she would one day be his wife, willing or otherwise. "I do not want Andrew's money…" she ground out through clenched teeth. "What of his mother? Should it not go to her?"
Surprised by her statement Leclerc merely blinked at her. "Madame, Lady Donovan died not two weeks ago… and it isn't a matter of wanting the money or not. He also made sure to reinstate your late husband's position in the family as well. So technically the money is being passed down to you through your husband. The money and all his holdings are yours."
Loosing some of her icy exterior Brielle turned and slapped a hand against the tabletop. "I do not want that man's money! No doubt it is as dark as was his soul!"
His smile dimming slightly, Leclerc cleared his throat. "You are a very wealthy woman now, Madame. Think of all the doors that position will open for you. One of which is being released from jail this very day. It is the influence Andrew built within this city more than their lack of evidence that saw to your freedom. Consider this first before you cast it away. Perhaps you were not on the best of terms with Lord Andrew… but why not use what was left behind for your own purposes?"
Ready to blurt out another rebellious statement, Brielle found her mouth slowly closing. Something about the logic in the attorney's reasoning had reached her through the fury she still harbored for the man who had taken away the love of her life. Sitting up a little straighter in her chair, Brielle forced the frown upon her face to relax.
"You make a good point, Monsieur. But can we please continue this discussion at another time? I haven't seen my family in a week and am very eager to do so," she asked coolly, her mind struggling to comprehend all that had been revealed to her today. She had gone from looking execution in the face to being free and the inheritor of a huge sum of money. Life was so strange sometimes. I suppose this is my sign… Apparently I am not done yet.
Gathering up his papers, Leclerc jumped to his feet. "Of course, Madame. I am at your beck and call. I can arrange for a change of clothing to arrive for you and then transportation so that you can be reunited with your family. It should take less than half an hour."
Is this what being wealthy can get you? Perhaps I can get used to this… there are many ways I could put Andrew's money to good use. "All right… that sounds fine." Walking to the doorway with Leclerc, Brielle caught sight of the chief inspector hovering nervously out in the hallway.
Upon seeing her, the man pasted a wide, friendly smile upon his face. "Madame Donovan… let me just say that the police force is…"
Raising a hand, Brielle cut the man off. "Tell me, is it your policy to convict people without any form of evidence?"
"Um…. well…"
Though the correct thing to do in this situation would be to allow the matter to drop, to forgive, Brielle found that she simply didn't want to. Perhaps a year ago she would have simply walked away, but now, after taking lessons from the Phantom of the Opera himself, she felt her dander begin to rise.
Narrowing her eyes, Brielle raised her chin. "Do not think I will forget what you were planning on doing to me…" she snapped, her tone foreboding. Turning abruptly, she set off down the hallway, her expression a cool mask for her true feelings. Behind her she could practically feel the police chief shaking in panic, obviously the threat in her words hitting home with him. Somehow standing up to the man who had been tormenting her all week made her feel just a little bit steadier, a little bit closer to Erik. That is right… I will have to stand up for myself from now on. Until we meet again…
Hurrying to catch up with her, Leclerc couldn't hide the smile spreading across his face. "I think you will do just fine, Madame. You have spirit… and it is going to be a pleasure to work for you."
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Six Months Later
Standing alone in her bedroom of her London townhouse, Brielle watched the rain run down the window panes with vacant eyes. The world outside was a wash of fog and gray stone, giving the view from her window all the cheer of a graveyard. In a way she was glad for the closeness of the rain and fog. The weather was a perfect backdrop for her dark mood. Raising a hand, she traced the trail of the rain down the window, thinking of Erik for the hundredth time that day. What would he have said if he could have seen me now? she wondered with a sigh.
A lone figure rushed down the street, the only person daring enough to brave the rain on foot. Save for him the entire street was deserted. Though really, that wasn't a surprise at all. London in the early autumn months was a trial for even the most seasoned veterans. Most of the ton elected to remove themselves from the city during the summer and fall months in order to escape the sweltering heat, but Brielle had decided to stay. Having stepped into her new role as Lady Donovan, she had wasted no time in becoming heavily involved in the running of the estate.
Within a month of being released from jail she had donated a heavy portion of her new wealth to a wide variety of charities. Politics soon came into play as well; surprisingly enough many very important men were extremely interested in becoming her friend. At first the power her new coin held astonished her, but she soon became accustomed to the games the rich played against one another. She had become a terror to all the corrupted officials in Paris who had treated her, and countless others, without a shred of human decency. It was petty, perhaps, to take so much joy in seeing those men sweat but Brielle never once considered allowing them to go without punishment.
When she had first stepped into her new role, Brielle had instantly made it her personal project to search for Erik's body in the river. Hiring a couple dozen men to carry out the search she had hoped to at least be able to put a body in the grave she had purchased to lay Erik to rest. However, the search yielded disappointing results. I should have looked harder. We gave up after only three weeks… perhaps that was too soon.
The door behind her opened with a click, drawing her out of her brooding thoughts. Aria came rushing into the room, her dark hair practically bristling with a wide variety of bows and ribbons. Taking a deep breath, Brielle pulled her gloom deeper inside herself, her expression clearing with a wide smile. For her daughter's sake she would not allow herself to be a grieving shadow the rest of her life.
"What in the world have you done to your hair?" Brielle asked lightly.
Fingering the dozen bows, Aria flashed a coy smile. "I g-got ready so that I c-could go with you tonight!"
Shaking her head, Brielle patted the excited child on the head. "Sorry, love, but tonight is only for grown-ups. But I promise to take you out some other time."
Pouting now Aria looked to the floor. "B-But I want to see Aunt M-Meg dance t-tonight too!"
"Now you know perfectly well that Conner has already taken you to see her perform at the London Opera House. This is by no means the first time she has danced as the prima ballerina. Conner told me that while I was in Paris he took you to see the play she was working in two months ago."
"I know b-but I wanted to g-go tonight. Uncle C-Conner says this is a n-new play! It is r-really important!"
Wondering at the child's unexpected fervor Brielle hesitated. She has never been so excited about the Opera before, even with Meg in the production. I wonder what has put a bee in her bonnet this time around…
"Another time…" Brielle soothed, as she smiled down at her daughter. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly the child had recovered from all the terrible things she had seen. The worry that the horrors they had endured would somehow scar the poor child had been one of Brielle's chief concerns. But apparently she need not have worried. Aria was perfectly fine.
Getting over her disappointment quickly Aria danced away from her mother's touch. "All right… c-can I go play the piano n-now then?" she asked gaily, a secretive light blinking brazenly within her gray eyes.
Shaking her head at her daughter's odd behavior Brielle sighed. "Of course you can," she allowed as she ushered Aria out of the bedroom and down the hallway. In the last week Aria had begun practicing her music with a newfound fervor. It was almost like the child were preparing for a concert, considering the focused way she practiced. Just so long as she isn't tormenting her poor tutors…
Coming to the stairs leading down to the front door, Brielle caught sight of her brother's bright head down below. Conner stood leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs, his left arm kept carefully at his side. When he heard them start down the staircase, he turned his head to grin rakishly up at them. Apparently married life suited him, for there was something truly brilliant in his every movement since Meg and he had exchanged their vows. His happiness was almost a tangible thing, lighting up every room he strolled into.
"There you are! I was worried you were going to make us late!" he chided, the twinkle in his fairy green eyes diminishing the force of his words.
Raising an eyebrow, Brielle smiled sweetly at him. "Of course not. I am never late!"
Rolling his eyes, the redhead strode quickly to the front door. "No… that is right; I forgot. Arriving an hour after we are supposed to is a woman's duty."
"Absolutely! And I take my duties very seriously," Brielle replied breezily as a footman opened an umbrella out on the stoop, intending to walk her and Conner to the coach waiting outside. "Are you really so impatient to see your dear wife again? The poor girl hardly gets a moment's rest with the likes of you hanging about her every waking second. Soon enough I am sure she will come to her senses and run away."
Raising a hand to his heart in mock pain, Conner casually reached out and relieved the footman of his umbrella. "Oh… the things you say to your poor brother. They are scandalous! No wonder all of the other London snots hightailed it out of here when they heard you were coming back to town."
Ignoring his teasing, Brielle turned back to Aria and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "When I come home later I will tell you all about the play."
Clapping her hands in delight, Aria nodded her head. "Yay! Tell me h-how g-good Meg does!" she squealed.
"That is a deal then." Turning, Brielle moved to the open doorway, lifting the hem of her royal blue skirts above the gathering puddles outside. With Conner holding the umbrella over her head, the pair hurried to the coach and jumped inside. Sitting back against the cool leather of the seats, Brielle let out a small laugh. "Conner, you really must stop telling the poor servants not to do their jobs… it really stirs them up. I think they think you want to fire them all."
Rubbing absently at the stiffness in his left shoulder, the old wound still bothering him on rainy days, Conner wrinkled his nose at her. "Lord, Bri… don't you feel strange with all of them hanging around all of the time? I just don't like other people doing all the work for me."
"Yes, it is rather odd to think that the daughter of an Irish doctor has come so far. We are a long way from playing in the fields of county Cork," Brielle sighed a little whimsically. "But really you must at least tell them that you don't mean to get them fired. They have yet to get used to our strangeness."
Leaning back with his legs stretched lazily out before him, Conner stuck out his tongue. "Blah! Who would have thought the servants would be so stuffy?"
"They will come around. They are good people."
Studying his sister carefully, Conner's good cheer dimmed slightly. "Why is it that when you smile I still get the feeling that you would rather cry?"
Sobering quickly, Brielle shrugged her shoulders. "It is the rain… it makes me remember."
Nodding in understanding Conner sat forward and took her hand in his. "Well… I am glad you decided to come with me tonight, Bri. It is good for you to get out and have some fun. And it is good for me to spend some of your money."
Swatting away his hands, Brielle felt some of her gloom lift; Conner always knew exactly how to make her smile. "What is this play about anyway?"
"Actually I have no idea. I am only going because Meg is in it. I do know it is all the buzz around town though, new composure and all that rubbish. Though Meg joining the cast was all very last minute. We were off touring about Rome when we got the news of it. Evidently they were very insistent of her being in it… I guess the casting manager had seen some of her other work or something."
"I am glad the two of you are so happy."
"Thanks, Bri…" Looking at the floor in thought for a moment, Conner raised a hand to ruffle through his hair. "I never did thank you… If it weren't for you and Erik I would never have met her."
Smiling a little sadly, Brielle looked out the window, watching as the London Opera House loomed into her field of vision. Glad to not have to delve further into their current conversation, she sat up a little straighter. "Well, we are here!"
Waiting for the coach to come to a complete stop, Conner jumped out ahead of her, opening the umbrella once more to keep her satin gown dry. "After the play I think I should take you out for a couple dozen pints of ale."
"Oh, yes, that would go over wonderfully in the gossip papers. But it would be awfully fun!" Hurrying up the steps together they managed to avoid getting wet. An usher met them at the front door to lead them to their box. Noticing that no one else stood in the foyer, Brielle made a point of hurrying Conner along. Despite her first reservations she now found herself actually looking forward to her night out, and she was anxious to get seated before the overture.
Smiling at Conner's antics all the way up the stairs, Brielle thanked the usher and entered their box. Quickly taking her seat, she looked down upon the people seated below with unveiled interest. It always amused her to see the fluff and silliness of the rest of the London crowd. Flopping down in the chair next to her, Conner pulled out a pair of opera glasses and set about people-watching as well.
Handing the glasses to his sister, Conner openly pointed at an old dowager sitting across the theater. "Do you think that is a dog she is holding or a rat," he asked with a laugh as Brielle looked through the glasses.
"A rat definitely…"
Slapping his knee in mirth, Conner opened his mouth to say something else when the theater lights began to dim. Quieting, the redhead sat back in his chair, settling for merely giving Brielle a wink. Likewise turning her attention to the stage, Brielle folded her hands in her lap, a flutter of anticipation quickening her blood. Prepared to lose herself in the upcoming story, Brielle was startled when she became distinctly aware of a strange heated sensation washing over her skin. Raising a hand to fan at her now flushed face, she felt her heart skip a beat within her chest. Wondering at this unexplainable reaction, she purposely turned her attention to the people signing on stage. Lord a-mighty… it feels like I am a nervous schoolgirl. I think I am even blushing… and for no reason too!
Shaking her head at her own silliness, she concentrated on the play, not wanting to miss any of the storyline. It didn't take long for her to forget her own odd feelings and become engrossed in the action upon the stage. The music was a daring, almost sensual, ensnaring the mind and wooing the senses until Brielle felt herself leaning instinctually forward. Raising a hand to press against her quickly beating heart, she was aware of the music wrapping about the dark shards of her broken heart, easing the almost constant sting to a dull murmur.
Stunned by how deeply the notes moved her, Brielle smiled softly. Perhaps I have kept away from music for too long… for my first opera since Paris to cause such a reaction… but these melodies almost remind me of what Erik used to write. In fact, the entire play was beginning to remind her more and more of Erik. Set unusually in Ireland, the basic storyline revolved around a young woman who became lost in a dark forest. When the woman stumbled upon the prone form of an injured man Brielle felt herself stiffen in her chair. Reaching out she clasped a hand over the railing in front of her. I am imagining the connection… no one knows our story except outside of the family… and Erik… Erik is dead. This is impossible!
She felt Conner turn his head to the side to look over at her, but Brielle couldn't tear her eyes away from the stage. Minutes ticked by and the heroine helped the mysterious man only to discover that he harbored a dark secret: whenever the sun went down he turned into a terrifying monster. Through a series of misadventures and moments of enlightenment the man and the young woman fell in love, slowly overcoming the black magic holding him a prisoner within his own body.
Watching with a white-knuckled intensity Brielle felt her heart practically stop within her chest. This story… who wrote this story? Like a person in a trance she slowly rose to her feet, the opera glasses in her lap falling to the floor with a thud. Distantly she felt Conner's hand upon her arm but she ignored the concerned pressure. The warm sensation she had felt earlier in the evening grew, warming all the cold, dark places in her soul. This story… they said it was done by a new composer.
Tearing her eyes away from the stage with a half strangled cry, she turned and bolted out of the box. Not knowing where she was going or even what she was running toward, Brielle raced down the stairs to the ground floor. A powerful tide of tense anticipation, like a string being pulled ever tighter deep within her, forced her onward; making her dare to hope for something impossible, something miraculous. Hearing Conner clamoring down the stairs after her, Brielle picked up her skirts and dashed down a side hallway. Following the feelings roaring through her body, she pushed her way into the backstage area, feeling the expectation grow with every step. She was getting close.
Feverishly searching every face in the immediate surroundings, she wove her way around the cast members with a practiced ease. "Brielle, what in the world are you doing!" Conner called from behind her.
Ignoring her brother with an intense single mindedness, Brielle edged around a large set piece, stumbling out into a more open area. Breathing a little raggedly from her mad dash, she immediately raised her eyes to the small group of people standing about twenty feet in front of her. A tall, dark haired man with powerful sloping shoulders stood staring down at a sheaf of music scores in his hands. Absently following along with the music, the man seemed far more interested in stealing glances out at the audience whenever there was a set change.
Stopping in mid-step; Brielle felt all the blood rush out of her face. She knew those shoulders; she knew that dark head and slowly she felt life return to the shattered remains of her heart. "Erik?" she breathed, her shocked voice barely making it above a whisper. She knew she should call louder, but in a cruel twist of luck the emotion clogging her throat made it impossible to do so.
Jolting into stillness the man straightened his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as if listening for something though Brielle was certain her voice had not carried to his ears. Turning with a jerk the man whirled about, his windswept blue eyes immediately colliding with Brielle's across the room. The papers Erik was holding in his hands slipped free of his grip and scattered at his feet. Time seemed to come to a screeching halt as they stared at each other, both breathing unevenly from the force of their raw emotions, then came clashing back into motion. He took a hasty step toward her and then broke out into a run. Tripping over the hem of her skirts Brielle started forward, desperate to be nearer, fearful that the man she saw before her was a spirit and nothing more.
Without slowing they fell into each other, their arms coming up to embrace the other with an almost bone-crushing force. The small crowd of onlookers was left to stare as Brielle clung with an almost panicked fervor to Erik's strong body. A fine tremor began deep in her soul as she ran her hands over his back, assuring herself that he was real. The warmth of his breath rushing over the back of her neck set her blood on fire as the tremor within her turned into a violent shaking. Her traitorous legs turned to water beneath her and she slumped limply against him.
"I thought you were dead! Everyone thought you were dead… where were you!" she mumbled against his chest, feeling dangerously faint as his hands came up to weave into her hair.
He was silent for what seemed like an eternity, burrowing his face into hallow of her neck she could feel him struggling to gain enough composure to speak. "I lost consciousness from blood loss and washed up on the shore several miles downstream," he managed to force out, his voice sounding unusually gruff. "I thought I would die without my mask and injured as I was but a passing elderly couple spotted me and took me in on their farm in the countryside. It was a long time before I was strong enough to leave them but every night I thought of nothing but you; saying your name over and over in my mind, hoping that you and Aria were alright."
Feeling a jolt of shock spear through the chaotic whirlwind inside her head Brielle opened her eyes, staring blurrily at the close up view of his jacket. "I heard you… at night I heard your voice in the wind," she murmured in awe, wondering at the otherworldly happenings. I thought I was going mad… but it truly was him. And what I saw… I must have dreamt of him before he was found… he wasn't drowning… I was wrong.
Tears of anger, of joy, and relief burned her eyes as she pulled herself even tighter against him. "But why didn't you find me?"
"You had left Paris and I did not know where to look for you. I traveled all over the continent but there was no sign of you," he said hurriedly, hints of the desperation he must have felt leaking into his tone.
"I then tried to track down Conner but the blasted man apparently visited every blasted country in Europe on his honeymoon and I always seemed to be two steps behind him. I even heard a rumor in Paris that the woman caught at the scene of lord Donovan's death was thought to be hanged. I didn't know what else to do… and without funds it was nearly impossible to continue my search. I wrote this play to prove that I could move in the world of normal men…and to find you. I knew I would find you… if you just heard the music."
"What about Meg… she is in this production didn't you think to ask her about me?"
Pulling back slightly, a sheepish expression pulling at the corners of his mouth, Erik shook his head. "Strangely enough I didn't know she was in the cast until tonight. I have been standing here cooling my heels just waiting for her to come out of the ladies' dressing rooms so that I could accost her and ask her of you. She is the first solid clue I have found as to your where-a-bouts."
There was a slight pause as Erik's muscles stiffened around her. "My God… you must have been in London for some time now…"
"Well yes but…"
A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat, the sound sending delicious vibrations to her through their close contact. "I have heard many rumors about a Lady Donovan but I simply thought it was the older Lady Donovan… your mother-in-law. Damn I am such an idiot! I was so busy trying to find you that I overlooked the obvious!" Raising a hand to run over the new flesh colored mask he now wore he let out a frustrated huff.
Seeing the agonized tension deepening the lines about his eyes Brielle knew exactly the torture he must have felt during his long search, but something about the irony in the entire situation nearly brought her to laughter. "Gah! I should be furious at all the time that was wasted… but I can't be… I am too happy." Feeling a warm wash of tears splash down her face she took a deep breath, breathing in the familiar scent of him in a desperate need to immerse herself in his very essence.
Raising a finger to wipe away the tears falling down her cheeks, Erik leaned his head forward and pressed his forehead against hers, forgetting his irritation and frustration for a time. "Good… because I have something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago but was too stupid to blurt it out. But now that I have found you again… and now that I know I can take care of you and that I can leave the Phantom behind me…there is no reason not to say it. I love you… marry me Brielle."
Smiling through her tears, Brielle tilted her head to the side and brushed her lips against his, knowing that those simple words were the sweetest she would ever hear in her entire life. "Yes… I will marry you," she whispered without a moment's hesitation, feeling the last shadows of grief within her heart brighten and disappear.
Cupping her cheek with one hand, Erik grinned against her mouth. "I am glad you said that… I didn't want to have to revert to my old ways and kidnap you," he teased.
Smacking him lightly, Brielle tilted her head back and laughed, the joy of the sound for the first time in six months reaching all the way down to her heart. "Silly man! Don't you know you can kidnap me any day!" Laughing along with her, Erik looked up and waved at where Conner stood a few paces away, a stunned expression marring his freckled face. "There is one thing I have to ask you though…" Brielle murmured, a wicked light burning bright in her eyes.
"And what is that?"
"Are you ready to live happily ever after?"
His smile dimming to more intense expression, Erik traced the outline of her lips with the pad of his thumb, sending thrills of pleasure shooting straight down her spine. "Happily ever after with you? But of course."
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Not the end just yet. So keep tuned in!