Chapter 12

Antoinette had never been a patient person, except when circumstances left her no choice. Such was the case today. Once a week she would meet with her employer to review the current status of the show; discussing every aspect of the dancer's performance from costumes to choreography. The master demanded better than perfection, and she felt more than obligated to deliver. She sat quietly in the front hall of the man's home, waiting for his return. He was more than an hour overdue, but she would not move until attended.

Although her anxiety and frustration were peaked to an all-time high, to anyone watching her she seemed the epitome of calm. After all, she could never be sure that he wasn't watching. There was a time when knowing that gave her an electric thrill, but now it just added to the constant disquiet that had settled into the pit of her stomach.

She still expected at any moment to be banished like her daughter had been. The thought sent a shiver through her body. It was a notion that swept her thoughts daily. Considering the circumstances, things could have turned out much worse. If only Meg hadn't lost control and threatened to kill the boy. If only she hadn't antagonized the situation by pushing the young woman. If only Christine had stayed away.

They all had blame and guilt to shoulder about what had happened. And now, they all lived with the consequences. Christine Daae was dead. Her accidental killer, Meg Giry had been sent away to Chicago to dance in nightclubs for foul gangsters and other criminals. Perhaps it was iniquitous of her to feel some justice in seeing HIM suffer as well.

Every time Antoinette saw the man who'd directed their destinies, he was less and less the enigmatic genius she had once worshipped. He'd endured a lifetime of torture, torment and rejection, but it was Christine's passing that had finally broken him. That was his penance; hers was the end to all she'd dreamed for herself and her child, and Megs… she shivered again to imagine it.

In letters and during very short phone calls she'd insist that everything was going swimmingly, but a mother could tell that it was a lie. Antoinette hadn't seen her daughter for nearly 3 years, except for a grainy photo from the local gazette that showed the company of entertainers. Meg stood unsmiling in the back among the chorus of dancers. Not a lead or with any promise to ever be again. She looked too thin and aged more than a decade than she should have been.

Antoinette tried to remind herself that it could have been much worse. After the incident on the pier she'd intended to run away with Meg before the master could turn his attention to them, but Meg insisted she needed to face what she'd done for the sake of her friend and the child. Reluctantly she'd agreed. To her immense relief HE had moved quick to halt any police investigation, wanting neither his professional or personal life exposed.

He was still a wanted man in Paris, and there was the boy to think about now. The Vicomte had also surprisingly agreed, being in a bad position himself by the death of his wife and financial hardships. But the boy, he shouldn't have to shoulder the sins of his parents. He was the only casualty in this mess that she resented. It was her belief that he should have been sent away from all those involved; if not to live with the Vicomte, then to a boarding school or as a ward to another wealthy family.

Instead the master had snatched him up like the boy was some kind of reparation. She considered it the greatest folly. The father could only destroy the lives he touched. He was simply incapable of living a normal life, regardless of how much he longed for it. It wasn't just his face that was mangled beyond repair; it was his soul as well.

Antoinette no longer played a leading role in the master's dealings. She'd been demoted to managing only the show in Phantasma's concert hall. Powerless and purposefully kept at a distance, but always watched carefully. Maybe he only kept her around because of how much she knew, or because she alone had been the true companion of his life from the moment she'd hidden him from the gypsies under the Opera house. She wasn't sure he was even capable of gratitude, but she was grateful that Meg hadn't ended up in prison or at the end of a hangman's noose.

The ticking of a nearby clock caught her attention. She pulled out a small watch from her pocket and saw that he was now 2 hours late. The house was silent, so the boy must be with them. Could they be at the park? No, she would have encountered them at some point. That fool tutor had been the one to answer the door when she arrived, but he'd had no information of his employer's whereabouts and had run back upstairs to his room mumbling incoherently about being allowed peace to wright.

She stood slowly, hesitant to overstep her boundaries and suffer the master's wrath, but needing to know what had caused this break in normality with him. Moving carefully Antoinette headed to the back of the home to find the only other person in residence. She entered the kitchen with slow small steps till she found her quarry. A short squat woman sat in the corner by the large brick oven reading a book. She didn't look up when the woman entered, but perked up noticeably.

"They are out for the evening, having supper in the city." said the cook flatly.

"Where?" asked Madam Giry authoritatively. The cook only raised her eyes for a moment to inspect her visitor before returning to her novel.

"It's not my business. I only just received a call that I had the night off and that was enough for me. Said they wouldn't be back till late too, so I suggest you reschedule." She concluded.

Antoinette huffed out her displeasure before turning and exiting the room. Everyone seemed to take advantage of her situation and treated her with so little of the respect she deserved. It unnerved her at the best of times and she had to work hard to keep her temper in check, but right now she was more curious than concerned. Where would a masked man go to dine with his illegitimate son? Whatever was happening, it could only end badly she was sure.

She wrote a quick note, put it on a table in the front hall and left the house. She'd have to keep her eyes and ears open to find out what was going on. Rumors had begun to spread around the park that the masters waning interest in Phantasma was a sign that he'd be giving it up. What if he were meeting with a buyer, or his lawyer to arrange closing the facility? What else could it be? Her mind was a jumble of all the horrible possibilities as the carriage rattled down the lane.

She knew he was more than capable of disappearing, damning all he left behind on a whim if the desire struck him, but what of the boy? This was his inheritance. What if he'd finally decided to give up fatherhood and gone to relocate the child. She had to find out, and she would.