I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart. Luthien, my beta, you rock!

Dinner at the Douvilles Part Two

Seating Order:
Marguerite / Edouard / Jules J. / Genevieve / Alphonse / Joséphine / Gilles / Gustave
Christian - Florence
Comtesse / Etienne / Augustine / Jules M. / Bernadette / Erik / Zacharie / Marlene

Erik held the chair out for Bernadette to sit down and was glad to see that Monsieur Astruc was seated to his right and Joséphine with Alphonse across from him. He glanced towards the head of the table, where the Comtesse took her seat on the right side of the host. Joséphine may be the daughter of a Marquis and thus of higher descent, but she held no title, so the chair of honour was reserved for the Comtesse, who was also the eldest at the dinner.

Soup was served and Erik resumed his conversation with Monsieur Astruc on the various trends in arts, trying at the same time to catch some of the conversation at the top of the table, fearing his impending exposure. Joséphine was oblivious to his concerns and chatted amiably with Alphonse and Gilles, who sat to her left.

As the main course was served, the Comtesse spoke up, addressing Joséphine across the table. "I am content to see you finally married, Madame, even though your husband is not nobility."

Erik saw Joséphine stiffen, but remained calm. "But it seems, at your age and with what happened to you in the last year, you did not have that much of a choice," she went on in a disapproving tone.

"Why do you wear a mask Monsieur?" her daughter Marguerite de Montrichard inquired, who had inherited her blunt curiosity from her mother. "One could mistake you for the ghost that haunted the opera a few months back."

Now it was up to Erik to stiffen, but before he could answer, Florence jumped in the conversation. "That's preposterous. Monsieur Perrault is a well-known architect, and associating him with a criminal is simply ridiculous."

"Yes, my dear, Madame de Douville is right," the Comtesse chided her daughter. "I was at the opera at when that monster kidnapped Chagny's wife, and what I saw on stage was more like an animal than a man."

Erik relaxed, grateful that the woman had failed to make the connection, but boiling inwardly with rage at being referred to as a monster. He saw that Joséphine had gripped her glass very tightly and had trouble controlling her breathing.

"But still, do enlighten us Monsieur why it is you are wearing that mask," she addressed Erik again.

Erik exchanged a glance with his wife to reassure her that the situation was under control. "I fell ill while I was working in Persia years ago. My skin got infected and never healed properly. The mask serves as a protection for the destroyed part of my face."

He looked around the table, taking in the pitying looks on most of their faces. His eyes met Joséphine's, who gave him a reassuring smile. "I also prefer not to frighten people with the distortion the illness caused to me," he added nonchalantly.

An embarrassed silence followed his explanation. Florence, ever being a good hostess, immediately guided the conversation to another subject, receiving a grateful nod from both Erik and Joséphine.

Still, it did not last long before someone at the table approached another delicate subject. They had just gotten served their dessert, when Gustave de Villois spoke up. "When is the Chagny boy going to return with that wife of his from their voyage?" he inquired.

"Not before the end of the month," Genevieve Marinvilas informed them. Her family had always been close friends with the Chagnys, so of course she was informed about the latest news on the newly wed couple.

"I find it scandalous that the Vicomte went off to marry a girl, a dancer, so low under his class," the Comtesse said in a disapproving tone, letting everyone know what she thought about the union. "I am glad his parents aren't alive any more and have to suffer from his untactful behaviour."

Joséphine thought she could hear Erik gritting his teeth, but apparently she was the only one to be interested in his reaction. She only feared that all the talk about Christine would lead him to say something that would give him away. She tried to make eye contact, but he stared down at his plate, his eyes having taken on a pained and slightly haunted look.

"A dancer?" Augustine Jaluzot asked, interested. "I thought she was the new Prima Donna at the opera?"

"Yes, but she was a mere dancer, a ballet girl before her talent was discovered. It is said that they are very much in love," Bernadette added to the conversation.

"That may be the case, but still, a girl like her, you take on as a mistress and not as a wife," Jules Marinvilàs commented.

Erik's grip on the spoon tightened, nearly bending it between his fingers, his whole posture becoming tense. Joséphine slipped down slightly on her chair and kicked him with her foot to get his attention. When he raised his eyes to hers, she saw the murderous look in them. Unnoticeably, she shook her head, begging him to restrain himself.

"I do not consider it such a bad thing," Gustave de Villois said between bites of his cake. "I even find it heart warming that Raoul de Chagny did not care about etiquette and acted out of love." Florence, Bernadette and some others nodded to that, but the Comtesse was not so easily swayed.

"It's better to stick to your own circles, I believe. Too great a mingling of the classes is a danger for our society."

"But, my dear Comtesse," Édouard Pailleron spoke up, "society changes constantly these days. Old families run out of fortune and are forced to seek out advantageous unions, or they might lose their place in society."

Marguerite de Montrichard turned red, knowing very well that this could be said of her marriage.

"Commoners get rich through industrialisation and commerce, gaining importance in politics and upper class. The world changes and we have to deal with it."

"But I do not have to approve of it," the Comtesse replied icily.

Christian, sensing that the aggregation was treading a delicate subject, ended the conversation by asking the gentlemen to join him for a brandy and a cigar in his office. Florence guided the ladies to the salon, once more stirring the conversation to lighter matters.

The ladies talked about the latest fashion, who had recently become engaged, married or gotten pregnant. Joséphine only listened half-heartedly, her thoughts on Erik and how he fared among the men. That's why she didn't react immediately when Bernadette addressed her. Only when Florence gave her a slight nudge, she tuned back in.

"I just said that being married seems to become you," Bernadette repeated. "You look positively radiant."

Joséphine smiled, blushing. "Thank you."

"Have you seen behind your husband's mask, Madame?" Marguerite de Montrichard asked innocently, eager for more gossip. Joséphine nodded, trying to hide her unease at the new interrogation.

"What does he look like? Is it very bad?" she probed further. Her mother, the Comtesse, put her teacup down, giving Joséphine's answer her full attention.

"Yes, I have seen him without the mask. And yes, the scar tissue is bad. But you must understand that I am not willing to betray my husband's trust by describing it," she answered confidently, indicating that she was unwilling to talk further about this.

"Of course, that is understandable," Augustine Jaluzot said, ignoring the pouting look on Marguerite's face. "A woman should not gossip about her husband."

"Only about those of other women," Genevieve commented to the amusement of the other ladies.

Meanwhile, the men in Christian's office were mostly talking politics and business, enjoying a brandy, while some of them had lit a cigar, puffing thick clouds of smoke into the air.

Christian had introduced Erik as a very capable architect, and Jules Jaluzot was now asking Erik what he thought of the design of his department store Printemps. Erik was just explaining that he found the combination of functionality and art design quite intriguing, when Gilles Becault, Florence's brother approached him, asking him for a word in private. The men retreated to a far corner of the office, where they would be able to talk undisturbed.

"I know it may be inappropriate to ask you that but I am curious," Gilles began, then paused, searching for words. Erik looked at him, encouraging him to ask the question. "Are you really in love with Joséphine?" Gilles said finally, not looking Erik in the eyes.

Erik's eyes widened. How and why did this man dare ask him such a thing? "I beg your pardon?" he said in an intimidating tone.

Gilles clasped his hands together nervously. "I have known Joséphine for a very long time, and we always got along so well. So, one day, I asked for her hand in marriage, and I really thought she'd say yes."

"But she turned me down, saying I only wanted to marry her because everyone expected us to marry rather than because I loved her with all my heart. She said she would only marry someone who loved her and whom she loved in return," he explained. Erik felt a strange stirring at this revelation, but was unable to place it.

"Why are you telling me this, Monsieur Becault?" Erik said flatly.

"Because I care a lot for her," Gilles told him. "She said she would only marry for love, and seeing you two at dinner tonight, I can tell that she feels a lot for you, but I am not so sure about your intentions."

At the opera, Erik would have strangled a man with his Punjab lasso for talking to him like that. Impertinent as it was, he had to admit, that the man was a good observant, for it was true, he was not in love with Joséphine.

Still, he had come to care deeply for her, and he could not risk rumours about the stability and intentions of their marriage start spreading around. He scanned the room; so far none of the other men showed any interest in the topic of their conversation, and he'd rather keep it like that. Calming himself, he prepared his answer.

"This is the first time we meet, Monsieur, is it not?" Gilles Becault nodded. "Then what makes you think you are able to read me?" he said in a calm voice.

"I was only…" Gilles began, but Erik cut him off, not wanting to be interrupted.

"Stop right there, and do not talk any further about this matter to me, nor to Joséphine. Our marriage is exactly that, ours, and I won't have anyone, not even one of her friends," he said the word with an undertone that implicated clearly he did not count Gilles as one of those, "question or interfere with it."

With that said, he made his way back to Christian and Jules Marinvilàs to join in their conversation.

An hour later, the men rejoined the ladies in the salon and soon after the evening came to an end. Erik and Joséphine said their goodbyes, and promised to give a party on their own in the very near future.

Alphonse and Bernadette waited with them outside until the carriage arrived, then walked back to their own house. Once inside the carriage, Joséphine let herself fall back against the upholstery and released a deep breath.

"Good Lord, I thought the Comtesse would never stop prying into every subject. This woman is really unbelievable. And did you see her daughter? Her corset was so tightly bound that I feared she'd faint at any moment! While you were at the office, it was always fashion here, and scandal there, and the only people above all reproach were of course she and her mother. How I'd love to…"

She stopped when she saw Erik staring pensively out of the window. "Is everything all right, Erik?" When he didn't react, she tried again, this time reaching out with her hand. "Erik?"

His head turned abruptly. "What? Yes, I am just a bit tired, that's all." He gave her a small smile. "I am just not accustomed to being in society like this."

Joséphine felt that there was something he was not telling her, but she let him be and they finished the ride home in silence.

Erik was not tired at all; on the contrary, his mind was whirling.

His 'outing' in society had gone better than he had anticipated. True, there had been questions about his mask, but he and Joséphine had apparently been able to answer them sufficiently. Having money and good connections seemed to be enough for most of them to accept him.

He had seen that Joséphine had grown to like him, maybe even love him, even if he couldn't understand why. Their marriage seemed no longer to be one of convenience, at least on her part.

What would happen to Joséphine when he went away with Christine? She would be humiliated by all those gossip mongers, and it would probably break her heart when he left her for Christine. Christine…what if she didn't change her mind, what if she decided to stay with Raoul?

Was he able to love Joséphine, and if not, could he stay with her, dooming her to a life full of unrequited love? When Florence's brother had told him that he had once proposed to her, he had had the abrupt urge to hurt the man. Could he have felt jealousy?

When they arrived at home, Erik was still deeply in thought, and before he knew it, they came to a halt at his door. Joséphine stood before him, in that beautiful red dress, her cheeks a rosy pink, surely from the wine she had consumed tonight. She was looking up at him, searching his face to find out what was bothering him. He just stood there, staring back. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Good night, Erik." She turned to continue to her door, but his hand shot out, turning her so swiftly that she nearly stumbled back into him. His mouth came down on hers and sealed her lips with a resolute kiss. Joséphine nearly squealed out in surprise, but just as her eyes fluttered closed, he let go of her. She looked at him, at a loss for words.

"Good night, Joséphine," Erik said silently, and then entered his room, leaving her dumbstruck in the hall.