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.
A/N: Christine will look like in the musical, and be nearly as young as in the film. I'm just so used to this description I have trouble imagining her otherwise.
THE BALL PART 1
Finally, the day of the ball had arrived. Everyone in Paris' upper class was talking about the big event. Since Raoul de Chagny had married his wife in a small ceremony before departing for their honeymoon, this was the first time that Christine was to be introduced into society as the new Vicomtesse.
People were curious to meet the woman who had conquered the heart of one of the most wanted bachelors in town and risen from dancer and singer in the opera to a member of aristocracy. Rumours made their way throughout the town, some farfetched, some close to the truth.
The disastrous obsession that the infamous opera ghost had had for the girl was mentioned only in some of the stories that were spread. The Phantom that only few had seen had simply become part of the urban legends of Paris.
Still, Erik was glad that he would not be alone when he saw Christine again. Since it was big event, where more than 100 people had been invited, a doorman would announce their arrivals and he, Joséphine and Clara would make their way together to greet the hosts and offer them their congratulations for their marriage.
Out of practicality, all three of them were going to share a carriage. Clara was not officially widowed yet and therefore unable to go in the company of a man other than a member of her family without raising rumours of having an affair. But since her brother had disappeared in Africa along with her husband, she was forced to go with her stepdaughter and son in law.
Saturday morning, Joséphine felt so sick that she had trouble getting up, nearly fainting when she tried to rise from the bed. But she quelled her unease down, telling herself that after the ball she would have enough time to wallow in pity, when Erik had left for good.
During the morning, the ladies' dresses arrived, and they spent the better part of the afternoon getting ready for the evening.
Since Erik was aware of Joséphine's choice of robes, he had paid special attention when choosing his wardrobe, and wore a dark blue vest, embroidered in a black and silver floral pattern, under his customary black suit.
He had also taken great care at rendering his mask as unobtrusive as possible. Ever since he had learned of the invitation, he had tried to find a colour that resembled even more his skin tone than the one before. Last night, he had finally applied the new layer to his mask, imitating the contours of his unblemished side by using a darker shade where necessary.
His disfigurement safely hidden behind mask and wig, he waited for the ladies downstairs.
Clara was the first one to arrive, and now Erik understood why his wife had almost burst into giggles when her stepmother had bragged about her robe. Her magenta dress had an enormous bustle, and was overloaded with silk frills in pale rose and reddish brown. Her deep décolleté was adorned with a ruby collier. When she came down the stairs, he thought that she would faint any minute her corset was bound so tightly.
Clara arrived in front of him, waiting for his comment, looking him up and down at the same time. Being polite, he raised her gloved hand to kiss her.
"I must say that I now understand the reputation your dressmaker has. This dress really is unique," he managed to say without breaking into a laugh, merely smiling slightly.
Clara of course was flattered by the 'compliment' and graced Erik with a rare smile. She then turned her head back to the stairs; for Joséphine had appeared on the upper level, slowly coming down to join the others.
Erik held his breath. He knew what colour her dress would be, and he had never seen his wife more beautiful. She wore a midnight blue dress made of finest silk, her medium sized bustle and décolleté were accentuated with black and silver Belgian lace. The deep blue of her robe let her auburn hair shimmer in a deeper red than usual, and her green eyes were like a stormy ocean. But still, something was missing.
Erik held out his hand for her when she arrived on the last step, and she gratefully took it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Clara watching them suspiciously, but everything that counted at the moment was the woman in front of him. He reached into the outer pocket of his jacket and conjured a black velvet box.
"You already are stunning," he whispered, "but with this, Joséphine, you will be perfect."
Joséphine opened the box with trembling hands, a small "Oh" escaping her lips when she saw what was inside. Her eyes darted from the box to Erik and back again, completely at a loss for words.
"Here, let me help you," Erik offered, taking the jewellery out. It was a white gold collier with four tear shaped amethysts surrounding a heart shaped sapphire. Each stone was adorned with three diamonds where it was linked with the chain. It was the most beautiful piece of jewellery Joséphine had ever seen, and it fit perfectly with her dress.
"This is beautiful," said Clara, who had come closer, curious about the content of the box.
"Yes, perfect," Erik said, looking Joséphine directly in the eyes, which had taken on a strange glint he could not really decipher. She seemed overwhelmed, but somehow sad as well.
'Well, she loves you, and she is sure you are going to leave her tonight for Christine, how would you feel?' an inner voice chided him. He felt guilty for putting her through this, so he vowed himself to make it up to her big time when this evening was over.
Joséphine turned, so that Erik could fasten the collier around her neck. When he was finished, she lightly touched the necklace with her fingertips, and looked at Erik again.
"Thank you," she whispered, then took his proffered hand and led him lead her to the carriage that already awaited them outside. Clara followed, her face stern.
She had hoped that Joséphine would not be able to go to the ball, but apparently the dose of arsenic she had mixed into the cassis on Monday had not been enough. Still, she could not help but notice with utter contempt that the poisoning was already showing some effect. Joséphine appeared pale, and seemed to constantly have trouble breathing. Clutching her reticule, where a small bottle containing a solution of the poison was safely hidden, she hoped to have a possibility at the ball to give Joséphine another dose.
The ride in the carriage passed in silence, each of the occupants in their own thoughts. After about 20 minutes, the carriage pulled through the gates of the Chagny Estate, situated at the northern outskirts of Paris. Curious, Joséphine looked out the window, taking in the park, lit with dozens of torches, and the big mansion ahead of them.
Clara was impressed too, jealousy flaring up in her though. Her husband, the Marquis, surely was rich, but they did not possess an estate such as this. It irked her that she, through marriage of higher social rank than the Vicomte, was not able to live that luxurious.
The carriage halted in front of the entrance, one of the liveried servants that awaited the guests' arrivals on the doorsteps hoping down to open the doors, offering a hand to help the ladies out. Once outside, Joséphine took Erik's arm again, and together they climbed the steps to the open door.
They walked through the entrance hall and a big corridor, which was adorned with portraits of the Chagny ancestors, towards the big doors of the ballroom in the back of the mansion, where they could already hear the music and the chatter of the crowd.
They waited until it was their turn to give the doorman their invitation, so he could announce their arrival, also telling him Erik's name. So when they stepped into the ballroom, they could hear his voice loud and clear behind them.
"Madame la Marquise Clara d'Escayrac de Lauture, and her daughter and son in law, Joséphine and Erik Perrault," his voice sounded through the room, and the nearest guests turned to eye the new arrivals, before returning to their conversations.
Erik's eyes immediately darted through the room, searching for Christine. He found her at the other end, together with her husband. She still was beautiful, wearing a moss coloured evening gown with golden applications. Her hair, as it was custom for women of the upper class, now was tied up in an elegant bun, only a few strands falling freely around her face. She seemed so elegant and at ease with her surroundings that Erik had trouble recognizing in her the little girl he had tutored so long ago.
It hurt him that she was willing to throw away her talent for a life in luxury. But she seemed happy; he could not help but notice.
Joséphine had followed Erik's glance and almost instantly felt jealousy rearing its ugly head. Christine de Chagny really was beautiful, but she had never thought her to be so young. She was still a girl, and the man at her side, who looked at her adoringly every few minutes, couldn't be much older than his wife.
She felt Erik tighten up next to her, and patted is hand in automatic attempt to calm him. 'I am a fool,' she chided herself instantly, 'for letting him break my heart and still console him.'
Erik turned his head to look at her, impressed by her supporting behaviour even though he was sure she hurt inside. Another bang of guilt exploded in his chest, and he spontaneously bent down to kiss her. Joséphine's knees almost gave way.
'Does he have to torture me even more by showing me affection one last time?' she thought desperately.
A clearing of the throat to her left made Erik stop and look up. His eyes immediately began to harden and narrow with deadly intent. Gilles Becault had just greeted Clara and now waited for them to acknowledge him. To his dismay, Joséphine nearly threw herself at the man.
"Gilles, it is a pleasure to meet you again," she said smiling, offering her hand.
Gilles bent down to kiss her hand, at the same time casting a glance towards Erik. When he rose again, he extended his hand to Erik, which he shook reluctantly.
"You look as beautiful as always, my dear Joséphine. Monsieur Perrault, how do you do?"
Erik's response wasn't much more than a grunt. He was not in the mood to talk to this person; honestly, he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone but Joséphine and Christine.
Gilles ignored Erik and continued making small talk with Joséphine. "My sister was already looking for you. Apparently, there is much gossip to spread tonight." Both Clara and Joséphine smiled at that, of course interested in the latest news. "Have you already met the newly-weds?"
"We just arrived and were on our way to them when you stopped us, Monsieur Becault," Erik replied dryly.
Gilles raised an eyebrow, slightly put out by Erik's icy behaviour. But then he remembered their last encounter and the improper questions he had bombarded Joséphine's husband with. Apprehensive, he made a step back. "Of course. I hope the ladies will save me a dance later that evening?" When they nodded, he turned and walked away.
Clara, who of course had noticed the tension between the two men, took the opportunity for a sneering remark. "You must know that Gilles and Joséphine were very close once. There even was talk of an impending marriage. If it had not been for the contract, she would not have had to take such a poor copy of a gentleman like you are for a husband."
"Clara!" Joséphine exclaimed, scandalised, her eyes immediately darting around, seeing if they had been overheard.
Erik's anger flared up instantly, his eyes blazing, but he showed no other outward sign. "If it had not been for you, she would have had more possibilities to choose from," he replied scathingly. He looked her up and down.
"But to be honest, I have to thank you, Clara." When Clara looked at him questioningly, not understanding, he continued. "If it had not been for your schemes, this wonderful woman would have never crossed my path."
Clara paled, then left them standing, continuing her way towards the Chagnys. Joséphine had to smile, even though she instantly chided Erik for talking about things like that in public. Then they followed Clara to greet Raoul and Christine.
When they arrived at the other end of the ballroom, Clara was still with them, so Joséphine stepped forward, joining their conversation.
"This reception is fantastic, Monsieur le Vicomte," she said in a light tone, ignoring Clara's scathing look. "Congratulations to you and your wife."
Both Raoul and Christine rewarded her with a warm smile. The fact that Christine was far from being aristocratic clearly disturbed some of the guests. No one had dared to offend her openly, but some remarks clearly contained underlying insults. But the daughter of the Marquise seemed genuinely happy for them.
This was of course true. Joséphine desperately wanted them to be happy, for that would mean Christine would not want to leave her husband for Erik. And if Erik could not have the woman he loved, maybe he would content himself with her. It was undignified, yes, but it was her last hope of having Erik stay with her.
"I have heard you got married as well," Raoul replied, "so may I offer our congratulations to you and your husband?" His eyes took in the man standing next to her, who gave the impression of not being too comfortable at events like these, and offered him his hand.
"Congratulations, Monsieur…"
Erik hesitated only a moment before shaking the proffered hand, but Joséphine thought that in that instant she saw a flash of recognition pass Christine's face.
"Perrault, Erik Perrault. Congratulations from my part," Erik said, his voice not betraying his inner turmoil. He too had seen that Christine had recognised him, and was worried that the moment of exposure had come too soon. But Christine did not say a word, only looked at both of them in a strange way.
"I hope that you will do me the favour of a dance later in the evening, Monsieur le Vicomte," Clara spoke up, smiling sweetly.
Raoul nodded dutifully. "Certainly, Madame la Marquise, I would be honoured. And I hope your daughter will save me a dance as well."
"With pleasure, Monsieur le Vicomte." Joséphine answered. "If you would excuse us for a while, I just saw some of our friends over there, and we would like to say hello."
Raoul bowed, and Christine smiled at her, though she looked somewhat irritated, clearly not knowing what to think of the couple she had just encountered.
As soon as they were at a safe distance, Erik addressed her. "I was not sure if you had felt my nudge."
Joséphine only nodded affirmatively. "She knows who you are, doesn't she?"
"Yes."
"And she did not tell her husband," she continued. "I guess that is a good sign."
"Hm."
They had no chance to continue their conversation, for Florence de Douville had finally found them and immediately began telling her friend the latest gossip. Erik only listened half-heartedly, his eyes roaming over the ballroom, reverting back to Christine. He sincerely hoped that he would get an opportunity to talk to her.
An hour or so had passed, and after the Vicomte and his wife had opened the floor with their dance, he saw his chance when Christine walked over to a chair near the doors that led to the terrace, resting for a moment, while Raoul was dancing with the Comtesse de Tolbiac. He bowed to the ladies, excusing him for a moment.
Joséphine stiffened; she knew where he was going. She had hoped to put this off for a while longer, but it was only logical that Erik would cease the first opportunity he had. Longingly, she looked after him, hoping against anything that he would return to her willingly, not because Christine had rejected him again.
Almost as soon as Erik had disappeared into the crowd, the Comtesse de Faubournet de Montferrand approached then, fanning herself rapidly.
"Have you heard the latest news?" she asked them excitedly.
Florence's eyes lit up. "What news are you talking about, my dear Comtesse?"
"You know that the Vicomte and his wife were not expected to return before next month?" Without waiting for their affirmation, she continued. "The reason they came back so early is that apparently, the girl already is expecting!"
"Oh, that was fast!" Florence exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.
"My words exactly. One cannot help but wonder if the child is his or if the 'Vicomtesse' had other acquaintances during her time at the opera, right? If you will excuse me, I have to talk to Madame Marinvilàs about this information." That said, the Comtesse continued her way through the guests, intent on telling everyone she knew, whether they were interested or not.
'What a vile woman', Joséphine thought. Of everything Erik had told her about Christine, she did not think it possible that she had been anything but innocent before marrying the Vicomte.
So Christine was pregnant? She was not sure how Erik would react to that. But still, this information allowed her to raise her hopes a bit. Surely, the girl would not leave the Vicomte now they were to have a child?
"You don't look too well, Joséphine. Here, I brought you some punch." Clara had arrived next to her, offering her a cup, which she took gratefully.
"She's right, Joséphine. You do look exhausted. Maybe you are having a relapse," Florence told her, concerned for her friend.
Joséphine shook her head, though she felt anything but well at the moment. She had developed a severe headache over the day, and the music and constant chatter of the crowd were not really helping
"It is a bit hot in here, that's all," she told the women.
"Why don't you take some fresh air on the terrace then?" Clara offered.
Florence nodded. "That is a good idea. Do you want one of us to join you?"
"No, I will be fine. Amuse yourselves, I will be back in few minutes." Finishing her punch, she handed the cup back to Clara with a nod, then made her way through the guests towards the open doors.
Clara looked after her thoughtfully. Only moments ago, she had seen Joséphine's husband go outside. Hopefully, the arsenic she had put into the punch would do its deed this time and Joséphine would die in the presence of her 'beloved' husband.
The fact that she had emptied the bottle into the whole punch bowl would clear her of any involvement, because everyone would think the servants to be responsible for it. She had drunk some of it too and like others would also show some signs of poisoning, but only Joséphine would die, since she had already been fed a dose of arsenic a few days back and therefore was in a poor condition.
Yes, her plan was flawless, she thought. She may not get a hold on the money, but at least, she would have her revenge.
A/N: Links to pictures that inspired me for Joséphine's dress can be found on my profile. I couldn't find a pic of a necklace that ressembled her collier though, but think of the Titanic Saphir and then add the other stones left and right to it.
Thanks for reading, reviews of course welcome!