Chapter Nineteen - Triumphant Indeed
Erik scribbled on, consumed with excitement and glee. He had been working on this since he returned from watching the new prima donna enter the opera, and eavesdropped on the managers. He hadn't eaten, scarcely blinked. He'd lost sense of time and being when at last he splattered the last note onto the parchment. He gave a great gasp, realizing how tense he had become as he had finished his work. Holding it delicately in his fingers, he trembled, a smile on his unmasked face. "…I did it," he breathed.
"Erik? Are you home?" Angelique's voice rang through the air, making him spin around and rush out towards her. "Oh, there you are-! Oof!" she gasped as he tackled her with an embrace, picking her up and spinning her around, his monstrous face beaming with ecstasy. "Erik-?!"
"I did it, my Angel!" he cried, spinning faster until he thought he might collapse.
"Did what?" she asked, starting to laugh. He'd never been this excited in the time they'd known each other. As he set her down, she caught sight of the set of papers gripped in one hand. Her eyes widened as she made the connection. "Erik…is that-?"
"'Don Juan Triumphant', Angelique – it's finished!" he smiled, an uncertain laugh escaping him. "I did it! It's complete!"
"Oh, Erik!" she squealed in delight, throwing her arms around him, kissing his mouth with such a fervent passion that he was stunned for several seconds before finally registering what had happened. Drowning in intoxicating bliss from completing his work and being kissed rather provocatively by the woman he loved, he parted his lips and deepened the kiss, startling her for a moment. She returned the gesture, however, when he suddenly pulled away, gasping for breath.
"No…no, my feisty Angel," he breathed, running his hands through her hair. "We must stop before Erik gets carried away."
"Carried away?" she echoed, blushing as she realized what he was saying.
"Erik does not wish to…go too far, if you understand what he's trying to say," he stammered, clearing his throat in embarrassment. "But believe Erik when he says that he truly appreciates the enthusiasm you've shown him."
She ducked her head down, her face bright red. His hand cupped under her chin and gently forced her to look into his eyes, a smile on his lips. "Thank you, my Angel."
She smiled back, embracing him as she planted a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I'm so happy for you, Erik…will you play some of it for me?"
"I was about to ask," he murmured, stroking her hair.
She snuggled in his embrace, her smile growing as she noticed how much more he was started to refer to himself by "I" and "me" instead of his name. Her smile faded as she remembered the news that the Persian had told her, the air around her suddenly feeling cold. She had to tell Erik – one way or another he would find out…she was so frightened of how he might react, though… "No…I can't be afraid. I trust Erik." "I saw the Daroga today."
"Hmm," he chuckled, pulling back to look down at her when he saw how the light in her eyes had dimmed. His brows furrowed as he became concerned. "What's wrong? What did he say?" he asked, his hands on her shoulders.
"He told me that…" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking a moment to muster her courage. "…he told me that Christine and Raoul have eloped. Not even the Comte has any idea where they are currently."
He blinked, silent. "…what else?" he asked calmly.
She gawked at him. "I…I thought that you'd be furious!"
"I let Christine go to marry the boy, didn't I?" he asked, unimpressed with the news. "Is that all that's bothering you, dearest?"
"But-" she started, freezing as he placed his forefinger upon her lips.
"Angelique, believe me – I love you, not Christine," he told her, tenderly kissing her forehead. "Christine will always be special to Erik and have a special place in his heart…but it is you that Erik craves. It is you that Erik depends on, and he knows that he can count on you for anything." Trailing his finger down her lips, he dropped it to her locket and gently tapped it. "Let this serve as a reminder of Erik's faithfulness to you, my Angelique…Erik shall always love you, and no one else."
Her eyes watered despite her best efforts as she sobbed, kissing his face before burying her own in his chest. "I love you, Erik! God help me, I love you so much," she wept.
He felt his heart ache as he squeezed her in an embrace, rubbing his hand upon her back in an effort to soothe her. Softly, he began to sing to her something from his completed work.
"With a kiss I seal this vow,
The ache and longing ends.
The grief and pain is all past,
Our happiness begins.
So this is how the story ends,
The tale of You and I.
We shall never be parted,
Not even when we die."
"Erik," she sighed, nuzzling against him. "Those lines you sing…the story of Don Juan…is that-?"
"Our story," he whispered, confessing the truth. "You altered the story, Angelique…you improved it. It ends in hope, not tragedy."
"Oh, Erik," she smiled, another set of tears sliding down her face. "…Erik, promise me something."
"Anything."
"Get your work published."
"Pardon?" he asked, pulling back to stare down and raise an eyebrow at her.
"If all goes well with Monsieur Adelshire, you should get your opera published, and have it performed here," she insisted. "Oh please, Erik!"
A tumble of emotions churned and swept through him as he caressed her cheek. "…is that truly what you wish?"
"With all my heart," she nodded. "Not because it's out story, but because it's a marvelous accomplishment – it's brilliant, and it's yours. The world should share in something so rare and beautiful. Please, Erik – do everything you can to have your opera on stage someday!"
His throat became dry as he listened to her, his smile growing as he held her close. He had never had anyone to share happiness, triumphs, sorrows, troubles…now here he was, with Angelique in his arms, praising him, encouraging him. Gripping her hand and placing a kiss on it, he murmured, "I promise, Angelique, I shall get Don Juan Triumphant published…even if it's the last thing I do."
~OG~
"It's so nice to get out and run errands for Maman," Meg chirped, happy to be spending time with the seamstress as they walked the busy streets of Paris. "I practically live in the opera – thank you for asking me to join you!"
"It's my pleasure," Angelique grinned, patting the girl's shoulder comfortingly. "I enjoy your company, Meg, and we don't get to spend much time together, at least not alone."
Meg giggled, understanding what she meant. "Yes…Jammes likes to hover. I suppose we all do."
Angelique and Meg had just begun their shopping journey, stopping and peeping in through display windows every so often. The slush crunched under their feet, signaling the end of winter and the prelude to a bright, warm spring as the air grew warmer. They two giggled and jested, stopping and smelling flowers sold by the local vendor, even purchasing two small pastries to share and munch on as they walked along. Moving past yet another store, Angelique paused the moment her eyes caught sight of a set of cufflinks, delicately and intricately engraved with the finest roses she had ever seen.
"What is it?" Meg asked, noticing how she stared. Her brown eyes soon caught sight of the trinkets, a thought clicking into her brain. "…Angelique…are you and the Phantom…?" she started, extremely suspicious.
Biting her lip, she glanced over and sighed. Grasping the girls hands in her own, she whispered, "Will you swear not to tell anyone?" Meg nodded. Angelique knew she could trust Meg – she was maturing, trustworthy, and kindhearted. Had it been another girl, she would have instantly lied, but she found herself relying on Meg more and more when it came to making up stories as to where she had been spending her time and with whom. "…his name is Erik…we're courting."
Her jaw dropped for an instant before she recomposed herself. "…you and the O.G.? Heavens!" She released a breath of shock, shaking her head.
Angelique blushed. "You won't tell-"
"No, of course not! Jammes would be jabbering like a parakeet if she knew!...you're certain he won't hurt you?"
"He would never hurt me," she shook her head. "He's…changing. Little things, habits, mannerisms, actions…he's changing into a better person, Meg."
"So he's a man?" she smirked. "It would be best not to tell Maman – she thinks he's a ghost who will find me some Emperor to marry!"
"How did you know-?" Angelique asked, having been informed in different ways from both Erik and Giry.
"I'm a ballet rat – I know ways of eavesdropping on my mother," she winked, causing them both to laugh. "So," she said once they had caught their breaths. "The locket was a gift from your beau?"
The seamstress nodded, blushing as she touched the trinket. "I want to get something special for him…those cufflinks would be just charming, they're perfect for him!...but I need to check the price," she confessed. "I have money saved from the work I do with the costumes, but I don't know if it's enough."
"Then let's find out," grinned Meg, tugging her arm as she yanked her towards the store door. "Let's go!"
~OG~
"Would you mind waiting here?" Richard asked Adelshire as he entered the office. "Armand has gone to check on Miss Anderson's rehearsal and hasn't been back for a time. Shouldn't be out too long, really-"
"Take your time," Adelshire waved him off, seating himself comfortably in one of the chairs. "I haven't been able to read the papers this morning, I'll just catch up on it now," he grinned, pulling a folded front page from his coat pocket. "I'll find ways to entertain myself, you go."
"Merci," Richard nodded, shutting the door as he hurried.
Adelshire chuckled, shaking his head as he opened the sheet. "That man runs around and panics more than a rabbit."
"Indeed."
"Yes, he's quite the-" He stopped, his mind registering the fact that a regal, velvet-like voice had just responded to him. The hairs stood on the back of his neck, especially when he felt that there was a presence in the room, though he couldn't pinpoint where. Immediately, he thought of one person. "Monsieur…le Fantome?" he asked aloud, his eyes sweeping across the room for any detail that might lead him to the voice.
"Lord Adelshire," the perfect voice answered back coolly. "I take it you are quite eager to speak with me."
"I…most certainly am," he nodded, rising from his seat. "Just where are you, anyways?"
"That is unimportant for the moment. You shall see me on the night of the performance," he reassured him. "However, I was rather curious and decided it might be a good idea to speak with you every so often on small details of the progress of this performance."
"I see," Adelshire answered, unable to hold back a chuckle. "I must say, you have rather impeccable taste – this is a fine establishment, you selected a marvelous and pleasant new star, and the seamstress is quite the charmer, not to mention the costumes I've seen her make!"
"Yes, I do keep an eye out for little things of the like," the voice admitted, sounding pleased that he had noticed. "…you mentioned you were looking for a manager should you decide to purchase the opera from the current owners."
"Oui, I am."
"Why me?"
"It's rather obvious, don't you think?" Adelshire asked, setting his newspaper down. "You just proved my point a moment ago…you are attentive to everything here, you strive for perfection. One would have to be a fool not to notice that you are a devoted man to the arts."
"We currently have two fools who do not notice, and they currently run the theater. Shall I introduce you to them?" the voice answered crisply, earning a laugh from the elder.
"You are a witty one, sir…tell me, why do you call yourself a 'ghost', anyways?"
"…when one is in a state such as myself, it would be better off to be considered a ghost…but you knew from the start I was not."
"Ghosts, as far as I am concerned, do not scheme or write notes or direct managers to put on brilliant operas – they are lost souls that wander and have no purpose," Adelshire spoke, placing his hands behind his back. "Therefore, I could tell you were a man, my friend, and I hoped we might at least communicate in one form or another. If you wish it, continue to send your notes on improvements – I shall convince my comrades to reinforce these orders, and if we can convince them to do these things and have the performance be a success, I can offer you their role and you truly would be the one running the show."
"Why?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Why are you so insistent on me being a part of this plan?" There was a hint of suspicion in his tone, understandably so.
"Because you love it." Adelshire sighed as he sat back down, stroking his moustache. "It's so clear that you love this, you would do anything to ensure that all goes well and that everyone does their best while others – unfortunately like my old acquaintances – simply want the queues that come with the money and filled seats. So long as the show is adequate, they could care less…but this is truly an art, a talent you have, my friend! You could make this the most incredible place on earth to come to…I love opera, but I am not of your caliber. I work well with the digits and seeing opportunities. Then again, this is an opportunity for the both of us, is it not?"
The room was silent, not a single sound taking place other than Adelshire's breathing. He had begun to wonder if the 'ghost' had gone when a defeated sigh filled the room.
"Very well…I accept."
"Excellent!" he beamed, grabbing his paper once more. "I take it we shall be speaking again soon?"
"Oh yes, very soon…" the voice faded out, just seconds before the two managers entered the room.
"We hope we haven't kept you waiting too long, Rupert," Richard apologized, sending Moncharmin a look of exasperation.
"Oh no, don't worry about it," he smiled knowingly. "I was quite occupied while you were out."
~OG~
Angelique grinned as she heard the trapdoor slide open, looking over her shoulder to see Erik entering the room. "Just a moment, darling," she said, slipping a bolt of cloth back into its cubby with some difficulty.
"Allow me," he offered, helping her shove it in place. "You seem happy."
"So do you," she noted. "What have you been up to?"
"Quite a bit. Erik has much to tell you, but he would rather do it elsewhere," he smirked.
She raised an eyebrow at him though she could not suppress a smile. "All right…where to?"
He offered her his arm, saying nothing, waiting until she linked hers with his before guiding her out through the hall once they had checked if the coast was clear. Erik was wearing his false nose and skin colored make-up, allowing him to appear more bearable to passersby, which made her wonder what he was up to under he brought her outside and into the street, where a brougham carriage awaited them.
"A carriage ride?" she asked, delighted and curious.
"Would you like to?" he asked. "Erik could always send him away-"
"Of course not, this is so romantic," she said, touching his shoulder with her free hand. "But I'm not dressed properly-"
"It's just a ride around town and back to the Garnier," he promised. "There's another surprise on the roof. Besides, Angelique looks beautiful in anything she wears."
"Oh Erik," she blushed as she laughed cheerfully. "You're just full of surprises tonight, aren't you? Well, lead the way!"
The pair entered the carriage and Erik called to the driver, letting Angelique rest her head upon his shoulder, his arm curling around her. The carriage started slowly before reentering the street, its pace soothing as the horse trotted along calmly. Erik gazed out the window, a flood of memories bombarding him as he realized all he had gone through to arrive at this point in his life. After so many painful experiences, dark events and actions, and heart wrenching thoughts and truths, here he was, on a Friday night, riding around town with a young lady who loved him despite his hideous face. He rested his cheek on her shoulder, enjoying the cool breeze that blew through the opened windows, the warmth of her body radiating onto his.
"So, what have you been up to?" she repeated, enjoying the feel of his protective hold on her.
"Erik has spoken with Lord Adelshire," he commented.
She pulled back, gazing at him in awe. "Did you?!"
"Well, not face to face," he shrugged. "But we did speak."
"And…?" she prodded on.
He inhaled deeply and sighed, giving her a look of uncertainty. "…Erik has agreed – should all go well, mind you – that he shall be the new manager of the opera."
"Erik, that's wonderful!" she cheered, kissing his cheek to his delight. "You're perfect for that – I mean, you already tell the managers what needs to be done and what has to be improved, but…oh! This is so exciting!"
"It is an…honorable profession," he admitted, toying with the rim of his hat. "And Erik does have several ideas for the future…It will be strange not being 'the Opera Ghost'."
"Who said you could stop?" she grinned playfully, earning a chuckle out of him. "But this is wonderful, Erik! I'm so happy for you…I'm so proud of you!"
"Proud?" he choked. He had never had anyone tell him they were proud of him…it made his heart swell with happiness to know she was proud of him, that she supported him. "…thank you, Angelique."
She kissed his hand placed it to her cheek, smiling as he caressed her face. "What else? You said there were several topics you wanted to discuss."
He nodded. "Erik will keep his promise to Angelique on publishing his work, however, she must promise something in return."
"What's that?" she asked, cocking her head at his proposal.
His eyes locked with hers, a shiver passing through her as she felt him stare intensely at her. "…you must play the part of Isabel."
She blinked, stunned. "W-What?!" she gasped. "B-But Erik, I can't-!"
"You improve each day with your lessons," he pleaded. "If I am to become manager, I could get my work published much more easily, and possibly get it on the stage here…but Erik wants you to sing Isabel's part."
"I'm not a singer or an actress, Erik, and I get terrible stage fright!" she blushed, shaking her head.
"But I wrote that part for you alone."
"What?" She raised her head, stunned once more by what came out of his mouth.
He took her hands in his, the truth finally coming out. "Pitiful Erik imagined himself to be the great Don Juan, who would woo the beautiful Adalia to be his for all time…Erik was nearly finished when suddenly, he met you…and then the story changed, my Angel. Adalia's humble servant, Isabel, was the one who won Don Juan's heart, and thus the story changed from bitter tragedy and resentment into one of hope and love…you are my sweet Isabel, Angelique…I am your Don Juan." Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. "However, Erik understands what you feel and say about performing. He shall not ask it of you if you are uncomfortable…"
She bit her lip, torn between fear and love, curious to try her hand at a small performance, and yet frightened to death that she would be scorned. Swallowing, she took a breath and said, "I…I'll think about it, Erik. If this is what you want and you're certain…" He nodded, reminding her of an eager child. "…I want to make sure I know the parts and can sing them properly before I make a decision, you understand don't you?"
"Of course," he smiled.
"I just don't want you making a prima donna of me," she said wryly. "I'm very happy being a seamstress, and I don't plan on taking Becca's place any time soon."
"Of course not," he chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly. "Erik is quite content with you just the way you are."
"That's a relief," she smirked, jabbing him in the ribs. Her smile faded, her lips pursing as she thought of something.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concern bubbling within him.
"…If I agree to be Isabel, will you do something for me?"
"Yes, of course, whatever you wish," he answered, wondering what could have her so worried.
"…please don't be angry with me," she pleaded. "But Erik…please, I want you to destroy the torture chamber."