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. Thanks to Luthien Saralonde, my ever faithful beta. I wish her all the best and may she achieve great things in her life! Thanks also to my other beta Protochan, who always makes lots of suggestions to make mw story better. Thanks!
GIRL TALK 2
As soon as Erik and Nadir were outside, they saw Mathilde rounding the corner from the stairwell into the corridor with haste. She bolted towards them, concern written all over her face.
"What happened? I heard voices. Is Joséphine all right?" she panted. She had run up the stairs as soon as she had heard the commotion from her mistress' room.
Erik continued to look down at the floor, unwilling to voice what had happened. Mathilde took in his broken appearance, and turned to Nadir to fill her in.
"Joséphine woke up, right after you left," the Persian told the young maid. When he saw relief wash over Mathilde's face, he lifted a hand to signify her that he hadn't finished. "She sent Erik away, she doesn't want to see him."
"But why, Monsieur?" Mathilde questioned. "I don't understand..."
"She saw Christine kiss me at the ball," Erik murmured just loud enough for her to hear.
Mathilde's eyes widened. "But...oh..." She stopped, trying to process what he had just told her. Her eyes darted between the door to Joséphine's room and her Master, finally settling on him. "She thinks you don't love her, right?" she whispered, her heart going out to the masked man in front of her.
His continued silence and the desperate, broken look on his face, so contrary to the energetic man she had come to know in the past months, spurred Mathilde into action. She reached out and touched his arm in a sympathetic gesture. Erik's head shot up, his eyes meeting hers. She had never seen him so sad, not even when she saw him plead with Joséphine's unconscious form to come back to him.
"I will talk to her, explain everything," the young woman told him, a determined look on her face. When Erik looked at her dejectedly, she continued. "You do love her, I know it," she said resolutely, eliciting a sly smile from Nadir, "otherwise you wouldn't be here, but with Christine. And the Vicomte wouldn't have helped you either," she added as an afterthought. She patted his arm, as if appeasing a child. "Go get some rest, Master, and I will take care of Joséphine."
With that, she left the two men in the corridor to keep her mistress company and fully enlighten her as to the situation at hand. Erik looked after her, not daring to get his hopes up. He had hurt Joséphine more than once, and, given his less than stellar history with women, he feared to be rejected again, and it was entirely his fault.
He was torn from his thoughts by Nadir, who gently took him by the arm and nudged him towards his room. The Daroga started opening the door, but Erik's hand shot out to halt him. "It's too close, I cannot stay here."
Before Nadir could say anything, Erik had started walking again, and, he, not wanting to leave his friend alone, followed him as they headed downstairs. The Persian was not really surprised when Erik strode straight to the music room, sitting down in front of the piano in a fluid motion. Nadir stopped at the door, unsure if his friend would want his company. But Erik motioned for him to come in, and he quickly closed the door behind him, sitting on a wooden chair on the other side of the room. He listened silently as his friend began to pour his desperation into the music, ignoring when the sad tones Erik brought forth from the instrument moved him to tears.
Mathilde entered her friend's room, her heart almost breaking from seeing the look of despair on Joséphine's tear-stained face. Joséphine lay in the arms of Florence, who was rocking her gently, consoling her even if she did not know what exactly was going on.
The upper class lady looked up as the servant girl entered, motioning for her to come over. For a while, the two women simply could do nothing but watch their friend as emotion wrecked her. It was not until the sobs subsided somewhat and her tear canals had almost run dry that they could attempt to do anything to her. Florence rubbed her friend's back soothingly, hoping that she would soon calm down enough to tell her what had caused this heartbreaking display of emotion.
Finally, Joséphine fell back into Florence's arms, exhausted from her emotional turmoil and the after effects of the poisoning. Gently, the older woman lay her down on the bed, covering her with the sheet, then turned to address the maid.
"What was that all about?" she asked her quietly, a puzzled look on her face.
"What do you mean, Madame?" Mathilde replied evasively.
"Why did she send Erik away?" Florence continued impatiently. "Surely she does not think he is involved in all this, does she?"
Mathilde shook her head. "No Madame. And I don't think my mistress even knows that she has been poisoned," she told the lady in a hushed tone, hoping that Joséphine would not learn of Clara's betrayal in such a state. "All I know is that there was an incident at the ball between her and my master, and she is still upset about it."
"But what happened? I don't remember seeing them fight."
"That is not for me to tell, Madame, I am sorry," Mathilde told her. "But the master asked me to talk to her on his behalf," she said. When Florence made no movement, Mathilde quietly, but firmly added, "Alone."
"You can't just throw me out of my friend's room, girl," Florence reprimanded her, her offence at such a request clearly showing.
"Madame, I do not want to be disrespectful, believe me, I only wish to follow my master's orders on this," Mathilde argued, hoping that the lady would not make a scene.
A noise from the bed drew both their attentions to Joséphine. Seeing her with her eyes open, Mathilde moved over to her.
"Milady, I need to speak to you privately," she spoke softly. "About the Phantom," she added in a whisper barely loud enough for Joséphine to hear.
Joséphine's eyes widened, and she threw a worried glance towards the maid, then turned to address Florence.
"Please Florence, will you leave us alone for a few minutes?"
"As you wish, but I will be back soon, my dear," Florence replied indignantly as she walked towards the door. At Mathilde's "Thank you, Madame", she huffed and left the room.
Joséphine sat up and rested her upper body against the headboard. Still exhausted, it proved itself as quite the challenge, but when Mathilde sprang forward to assist her, she held up a hand and refused. Mathilde had to smile involuntarily at this display of stubbornness. She only hoped that she would yield faster on the subject they were soon to discuss.
"How do you feel, Joséphine?"
Tiredly, Joséphine rubbed her eyes, and tried to remember how she had come here from the ball. But she could remember nothing besides talking to the Vicomte de Chagny before she blacked out. "I...how did I get here?" she asked Mathilde, ignoring her question. Only then realising what the maid had whispered to her earlier, she grabbed her hand and pulled her close, eliciting a surprised cry from the girl.
"You...what do you..." Joséphine started, and stopped herself, thinking that maybe she was still dizzy from having been unconscious and misunderstood what her maid had said. Quickly, she rephrased her question. "What did you say about a phantom before, Mathilde?" she tried to sound casual, but, with her throat still dry and her body tired from whatever ailment she had suffered from, she was not sure she succeeded.
Mathilde moved to make herself comfortable at the edge of the bed and smiled at her reassuringly. "We both know whom I was referring to, Joséphine," she said, and continued quickly before Joséphine opened her mouth to object. "I have known for a while now." Taking in her friend's shocked expression, she elaborated. "Honestly, do you think I am stupid? A day after the Opera Garnier burns down, you bring home a man who hides half of his face first in bandages, then behind a mask. And everyone here in the house has heard him play the piano on more than one occasion, and the music he plays is...there is hardly a word to describe it." Mathilde paused, trying to find words, but Joséphine beat her to it.
"Heavenly," she breathed.
Mathilde smiled. "I would have said otherworldly, but yes, heavenly works just as well."
"But...all this time...and you never said anything to me?" Joséphine asked her friend, feeling somewhat betrayed that Mathilde had kept her knowledge secret from her.
Mathilde cast her eyes downwards. "In the beginning, I wanted to, but I never knew how to bring it up. I supposed you knew, and since you didn't talk to me about it, I saw no reason why I should breach this subject.
Joséphine nodded. "Still, I wish you would have said something. I could have..." she broke off, new tears forming in her eyes.
Mathilde reached for a handkerchief, which Joséphine took gratefully, trying to control herself before her tears overpowered her again.
"You could have what, my dear? Tell me," Mathilde probed, gently stroking her friend's hand.
"I...it would have been easier for me, if I had known that I could confide in you," Joséphine admitted finally.
"Then tell me now, I am here," her friend insisted, all the while holding her hand reassuringly.
"It is too late now, it is over, I..." and again, fresh tears made it impossible for Joséphine to continue.
Mathilde knew immediately what her friend was referring to, and knew it was her job to tell her what had happened, not only between the Master and the new Vicomtesse, but also Clara's attempt to murder her own stepdaughter.
"It is never too late for anything, my friend," she started, but was interrupted by Joséphine's wail.
"It is, I lost him," Joséphine interrupted with a wail. "I saw him...oh God, why ever did I agree to take him to the ball?" Joséphine cried, turning around to bury her head in the pillows.
"Now listen to me, Joséphine, and listen well," Mathilde said, her voice soothing, yet firm. "What you saw was not as it seemed, and the Master never betrayed you."
"But I saw him kiss the girl!" Joséphine cried, her voice muffled by the pillow.
"No, what you saw was Christine kissing him, not the other way around," Mathilde revealed.
"What is the difference in that?" Joséphine all but yelled at her friend.
"But there is, Joséphine," Mathilde berated her gently. "It is you the Master loves, not that girl."
"No, I saw them, they were..." new sobs hindered Joséphine to continue.
"If it is as you say, then why is the Master here and not with the Vicomtesse?" Mathilde asked her friend, trying to help her move past the pain she felt. "And why was the Vicomte himself here to help?"
That, at last, rose Joséphine from her lamentation. She raised her head from the pillow to cast a puzzled look at her friend, though her eyes were almost shut from having shed too many tears in such a short time.
"Chagny? What...I don't understand," Joséphine said.
"What is the last thing you remember, Joséphine?" Mathilde asked, moving closer and starting to rub her friend's back, trying to calm her before beginning to explain to her what had happened. Telling her mistress of the dreadful deed her stepmother had performed would be a difficult task in and of itself, and she needed Joséphine to be calm for when she finally revealed the truth.
"I wanted to leave, because I saw..." Joséphine began, but broke off. It hurt too much to talk about it right now, and she didn't want to have another uncontrolled sobbing fit. Mathilde only nodded and asked her silently to continue. "...and because I was not feeling very well, but then the Vicomte cornered me, and since I told him that I felt too nauseous to dance, he decided to accompany me to the door. He asked about Erik, and I was so dizzy, and..." Joséphine broke off, a troubled look on her face. "...I must have fallen sick and fainted, I can't even remember how I got home," she concluded.
"I do not know how best to tell you this, Joséphine, but you have been sick because you have been poisoned," Mathilde explained tentatively. She tried to think of a gentle way to break the news of Clara's betrayal and crime to Joséphine, but found none. She reasoned that being abrupt with the truth would be the best way to confess Clara's sins.
Joséphine looked at her, wondrous. "But I did not eat anything at the ball, I cannot have been...how could I have..." Suddenly, realisation dawned on her, and her eyes widened in shock. "No, you must be mistaken," she pleaded with her friend, who only nodded sadly, confirming her suspicion. "No, Mathilde, she wouldn't...she couldn't..." Joséphine broke off, the truth of it overwhelming her.
"You have been feeling sick all week, remember?" Mathilde probed quietly. Joséphine only nodded in confirmation. "The Master's friend, the dark-skinned man, he said that Clara used arsenic. She tried to kill you and almost succeeded, had it not been for the combined efforts of the Master, his friend, and the Vicomte," she told her.
"But why? I never did...oh...the heritage," Joséphine whispered. "She tried to kill me because I found a way to access my heritage?"
Mathilde nodded, knowing how hard this must be for her mistress. Despite all the differences and fights between the two women in the last year, Joséphine had always tried to get along with her stepmother, knowing that her father loved her.
"From what I know," Mathilde informed her, "she was beyond all reason, driven only by revenge. She poisoned the punch at the ball to cast suspicion on someone else.
"Oh my God, is..."
"As far as I know, you were the most affected, since she had been poisoning you all week. But some of the guests were transported to a hospital."
"And Clara, where is she now?" Joséphine asked, glad that all the other guests were all right.
"She drank some of the punch herself, and was transported to a hospital. She confessed being the culprit, so she is probably on her way to the prison Saint-Lazare."
"I never would have thought that she...I know that we did not get along very well in these last months, but still..." Joséphine murmured, still digesting the awful news, when Mathilde's last sentence suddenly dawned upon her. "She confessed?" she inquired, raising her voice quite a bit in the process. "Why? Why go through such lengths and try to not make me the sole victim, and then tell everything?"
"I do not know, Joséphine, but the Master and the Vicomte went to see her at the hospital, and when the Master came back, he told me that she had confessed," Mathilde explained.
"The Vicomte, why was he even here?" Joséphine asked, perplexed.
"Well, since the poisoning happened at his ball, he came to see how you were faring," Mathilde started. "And well, it seems that the Master and he have formed some sort of truce, and that would not have been the case if the Master had pried the Vicomtesse away from him, right?" she concluded.
"Maybe he just didn't succeed, and she refused him a second time..."
"But then the Vicomte would not have come here in peace and worked together with the Master these past hours," Mathilde countered.
Joséphine fell silent, pondering over what her friend had just said.
"You should talk to him," Mathilde advised her, referring to Erik. "Ask the Vicomte too, if you wish, but don't make the mistake of sending him away when you don't know the whole story."
Joséphine looked at Mathilde, fresh tears forming in her eyes, but she fought hard not to let them fall. "I don't know if I can face him yet. I feel so tired," she told her. "And seeing him only brings back the memory of what I saw."
"You will have to talk to him eventually, but of course, I will not force you to do it immediately," Mathilde replied, earning a small smile from her employer. "Still, I do not know how long I can hold him back from barging in here to see you," she continued. "He almost never left your side, and did everything possible to make you overcome the poison. He loves you, you know."
Joséphine looked at her doubtfully.
"I knew it before, but after this night I have no doubt of the depth of his feelings for you, Joséphine," Mathilde insisted. "He truly is..."
The sound of the piano being played downstairs interrupted her. The music was so breathtakingly beautiful, that both women were immediately enthralled by it and stopped their conversation.
The melody started powerful and aggressive, but soon changed into a more melancholic tune, which spoke of love and heartbreak. Then it changed again and became more hopeful, speaking of forgiveness and the hope to overcome all obstacles, and to win the heart of the loved one again.
Completely moved by the passion and emotion with which the music was played, both women had tears streaming down their faces without them even noticing. They were holding hands, finding comfort and solace in each other, staring down at the floor as if they could see through it.
Finally, Joséphine tore here gaze away from the planks and withdrew her hand from her friend's grasp to wipe her tears away. Erik's powerful music had her moved to the core. She knew she had to see him, now, to clear up everything between them once and for all.
"Help me get downstairs Mathilde, now," she said determinately, and pushed her body up from the bed, quelling the wave of dizziness she felt at the sudden motion. Mathilde tried to make her lie down again, but she shook her head forcefully. Grabbing her friend's hand again for support, she tried to stand. It took her a few tries, but she finally succeeded.
Slowly, they made their way to the door.
"I am coming Erik, and you had better be playing this music for me, or I swear, I will do everything in my power to make you suffer," she whispered under her breath.
A/N: Once again, it took me quite a while to finish the next chapter, but this time, I have a rather good excuse: I moved to Paris, France; to live with my boyfriend. So, after Christmas I really had no time to write, even if my muse would have inspired me to. I'll take some new pictures of the Opera next week for all you Phantom phans, all right?
Merci alors to all of you for sticking with me and patiently waiting for me to update!