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Ch. 4
Erik turned to her, shocked. Not only was she going to obey him, but a gentleness had graced her voice that he most certainly did not anticipate. Was he in a dream? Had she acquiesced to his wishes-was she to give him the hope of experiencing even one day of a normal life by the work of her hands?
"Please, sit," she gestured to the emptiness beside her. He noticed that she had an emotionless countenance on her face and a numbness to her that he could only assume was her way of coping with the terror that he had inflicted upon her. He was ashamed of himself for showing her such a sight, but it was too late.
She certainly was good at pretending that it had not affected her-a master of the true art of disguise. Perhaps if he could just endure the situation a little longer, just enough to accomplish his purpose, the benefits would far outweigh the consequences.
He obliged and sat beside her. He watched her decide on which item she would use first, hoping to catch a glimpse of her thoughts written on her features. But she concealed them well. What true deceipt she could accomplish, for not even Christine could hide her fear in this way!
Cora opened a small jar of salve that she sometimes used beneath the disguise to prevent irritation of the skin, especially if she knew that she would have to wear the many layers of substances for a long duration. She scooped out a small amount and touched it to his face.
Erik flinched at the contact and she pulled away quickly, her brows furrowed.
This will be the moment in which she cannot hide her disgust!
"Forgive me, does it hurt?" she asked.
As simple as those words sounded, they made Erik crumble inside. He had never heard those words spoken to him, and he wished so badly to believe that she meant them. But he knew better-she was only acting out of self-preservation; she was afraid of his anger. She wanted to be quick to finish her business with him and be done.
"If you can endure it a bit longer, this will greatly reduce the inflammation," she explained.
He nodded silently and closed his eyes, both enjoying the attention to his skin and wishing he could be anywhere else but in the presence of yet another woman who feared and was disgusted by him.
Erik was impatient; it seemed as if an eternity had passed before Cora had concentrated on another area of his face, her slender fingers painting on various creams and mixtures. How wonderful it felt to have the touch of another human-how he wished that he could give into the sensation and savor the gentleness that was exercised by her fingertips!
But he knew better-he was not ignorant of the fact that she did not touch him out of love or tender affections, rather; she was forced to do so because he had threatened her. Was that not always how he had ever experienced a sliver of normalcy or a small glimmer of hope-through extortion and bribery?
Pathetic man that he was! Was he not the most repulsive monstrosity that her light-green eyes had ever seen and her hands ever touched? He was certain that he would be the substance to her nightmares that night.
And yet, it had surprised him that after her initial shock and fright, after spending a great length of time on his disguise, no longer did the horror grace her features; instead replaced by a look of great concentration.
He watched the color of her green eyes, how light freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and apples of her cheeks, and how her unruly auburn hair protested the tight manipulation of a twist by releasing a few curly strands in her face. She was not the most beautiful woman that he had seen, but his opinion of her appearance had improved upon closer inspection.
Cora was nearly finished, and it could not have been soon enough, for the intensity of Mr. Destler's hazel-colored eyes on her had made her uneasy. She was so anxious that she could not let down her guard, afraid that if she failed him there would be severe consequences to suffer, let alone the disappointment that she would cause him. She imagined that this was the most hope that he had felt in a long while.
She had used various techniques that she had read about from a theatre-pulling of the eyes in an upward fashion so as not to show how it sagged and securing it with a special adhesive, covering the majority of his cheek with a moldable substance that she had smoothed to mask the marred skin beneath it. She had painted on fleshtone colors in order to blend the coverings together with the normal edges of his skin and to create shadows and dimensions of the skin that would naturally occur had it been unafflicted.
She even took the liberty of applying a patch of false hair and drawing in small strands over the patch of his thinning hair before she camouflaged it with the dark wig that she had seen him wear.
Once she had finished filling in the nearly missing eyebrow, she released a long exhale. How time-consuming and tedious the task was-she had realized that, if she herself would be attending the ball that night, then she would need to return home quickly in order to prepare her own appearance. But she could not help but to examine her efforts at disguising him as she drew back from his face.
Creating a distance between the two of them had already helped to ease her anxiety. How different he had looked as well! One could not determine, even under scrutinization, that the right side of his face was deformed at all; instead, it mirrored his flawless skin of the untouched side.
How truly handsome he was, even despite his threats and behavior, so much that Cora knew that he would catch the eye of every woman who saw him. Even though she knew how awful his conduct could be, she hated to admit that her poor opinion of him had somewhat improved, for she could not find it in herself to hate him entirely after she had seen his affliction. After all, how else would a man behave who had been forced to hide himself and live in the shadows and deceipt with the fear of being seen and rejected?
She imagined that she would be bitter and lacking in manners as well, had she lived his life.
Her fear had subsided, for she knew that she could not have done better. If he was displeased by it then she would assure him that there was nothing more that could be done.
Erik inhaled sharply and prepared himself for the worst when she had notified him that her work was complete. He searched her face for any sign of what he might expect, but she did well to hide her emotions.
"Wait here," he instructed as she began to pack her belongings.
His heart raced as he left the room and sought out the only mirror in the house that he owned, located in the humble water closet in the servants' quarters. He quickly closed the door behind him and prepared for the worst.
His pulse nearly stopped when he looked. A different man stared back at him-one of whom he was not acquainted with. Could this be? Could this truly be him? Had he finally awakened from a terrible nightmare and his face had been flawless all along? His hand instinctively rose to feel its smooth texture for a brief moment.
He knew that it was probably best not to tamper with it too much, and so he just stared. He turned his head from left to right, carefully examining how natural it appeared. When he could see no error, he could contain himself no longer.
Tears sprung from his eyes and he buried his face in his hands. How he had longed for this, how he never thought that he would experience this! He was both elated and fearful of the possibilities that were now open to him.
How much pain and anguish would have been spared him, had he learned of this earlier in his life! He would have had no need to hide himself as a Ghost in the Parisian Opera House, for he could have shown his face as an architect and composer. He would never have had to hold Christine against her will, for perhaps she would have loved him if she had seen him this way.
Perhaps she would have loved him!
The thought made him cold and resentful, and he straightened himself up and wiped away the tears. He faced the reality that his former life was behind him, and he vowed to focus on the new life ahead.
He cursed himself when he noticed that his tears had smeared a certain spot enough to look unnatural. He hoped that Cora had obeyed him and would still be found in the library, though he expected that she would have taken advantage of the opportunity to escape.
He was pleasantly surprised when he found her sitting quietly on the divan.
Cora noticed how his eyes now had puffed a little and she knew that he had cried. All of the ill feelings that she had held for his previous behavior had been excused and replaced with compassion and a feeling of accomplishment for helping him.
"It seems in your eagerness you have accidentally touched it," she said, pretending that she was unaware that he had shed tears. "I would avoid touching it, if at all possible, next time. The color may transfer to your fingers."
Erik nodded and watched her pull out a familiar jar and proceed to fix the spot.
"There! Now, if you will excuse me, I have but three hours until I must arrive at the ball, and I have yet to prepare myself," she stood, clutching the bag.
"You did well," Erik stated as he pulled out something from the pocket of his black waistcoat.
Cora pretended not to notice the money that he offered to her as she cleaned up the supplies and prepared to leave.
"I do not want your money," she said as she finished tying the cloth sack.
Erik was slightly taken aback by her response, for he had imagined that she would take it without hesitation. Or perhaps she was still cross with him because of his threats? Maybe she had been excellent at concealing her disgust and wished to get far away from him, as quickly as possible, he thought.
"You cannot expect not to be compensated for your work," he said.
"I state again; I do not want your money."
"Ms. Levour," Erik walked over to the fireplace and traced the marble edge with a gloved finger. "I do hope you have enough whit about you to realize that this will not be a seldom occasion. I shall require your services often, and you should be compensated for your time."
Cora grew annoyed in the way in which his tone was commanding, yet again. She understood his lack of social skills, but could he not treat her as an equal? There was nothing that could ignite her temper hastier than a man looking down upon her and reminding her that she was under his control.
"I am aware that your strictest confidence of my secret means that I must oblige you," she stated. It was a fact that she was most disappointed in, for now she knew that he would continue his intimidating behavior, and to think of being forced to deal with his unpleasantness many hours each week when she had other things to attend to was most exhausting.
"Then you must take it," he stretched his hand out with the money in it.
"I will not. Good day, Mr. Destler!" she half-curtsied and saw her way out.
Cora dismissed herself before another word could be spoken and Erik did not pursue her. Now he had to finish preparing himself to attend the ball. And this would be the first in which he would not need to hide behind a mask. A glorious prospect, indeed!