Chapter Twenty-Two - Funerals, Fortunes, and Futures

"We're here," Erik announced, peeping out from behind the curtains of the darkened carriage they rode. He squeezed Angelique's hand to reassure her – as well as himself – before taking a deep breath and tugging the brim of his fedora over his face.

When Erik and Angelique had awoken the following morning, he went upstairs and made arrangements, contacting Adelshire and even leaving a note for Meg Giry, whom he was certain was already very aware of his being with Angelique, knowing that she could cover for them. He also left a note to Madame Giry with the excuse that he would not be able to visit her in Box Five as he needed time to rest. With these finished, he set off and arranged for a cab to take them to Pierre Archambault's countryside home in Rouen. He was, of course, rather hesitant to travel to Rouen, later explaining to Angelique once they were in the carriage that he had been born and raised near the town as a child, and it did not hold fond memories for him. When she protested that he not got for her sake, he merely kissed her hand. "Erik is not afraid of facing anything, so long as you are with him," he answered.

The carriage came to a jarring halt, the two of them exchanging glanced before Erik tugged up the collar of his cloak to conceal his face. Stepping out into the dying sunlight, he offered her his hand and assisted her out of the vehicle, paying the driver handsomely for getting them there in such a short amount of time. They each gathered their own suitcases and started up the path when a figure emerged from the two-story cottage.

"Mademoiselle Angelique, is that you?!" the woman called out, her facing lighting up as she ran towards them. "Oh, thank Heaven you made it!" She was in her mid-sixties, her brown hair graying at the temples, with bright hazel eyes and dimples as she smiled at them. Her apron was stained with juices and coated with different powders, and she smelled of cinnamon and clove. Opening her arms to them, she embraced Angelique fiercely while Erik lingered close by. "We're so glad you came…I'm so sorry if I'm being too forward, it's just-!"

"Please, don't apologize," she answered, returning the embrace. "I'm not like that…I haven't exactly lived in the lap of luxury for a few years now. Besides, I rather like being welcomed like this." The two women shared a tearful smile before the elder noticed Erik.

"Oh, pardon!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize you were married-"

"Oh, I'm not married, not yet anyways," she blushed.

Erik felt butterflies flutter in his stomach the moment she said that sentence, hope blooming in his heart. Mustering his courage, he took the woman's hand and kissed it, bowing to her. "Madame, I am Erik Chevalier, Angelique's beau. You have my deepest condolences."

"Oh my, how charming," the woman giggled. "It's wonderful to have you both, despite the circumstances. My name is Fanette Joubert, I was Master Pierre's cook and maid. My son and husband worked for the Master as well, they're here…do come in. I must warn you, my husband is a veteran from the Paris Commune back in 1871…his face was slightly…well, deformed. There was a terrible incident, so please don't be alarmed."

Erik and Angelique exchanged glances, shrugging as they heard the news. They followed Fanette up the path into the homely cottage, setting their bags down at the door.

"Lamar? Adrien? Do come out. Our guests are here," she announced, shutting the door after the couple had entered.

A young man emerged from the kitchen, shyly entering the drawing room and bowing politely to the couple. He was only seventeen but he was rather tall for his age, nearly surpassing Erik's height. He was strong and able-handed, but he had his mother's gentle hazel eyes and a sweetness about his face that showed he was not a hulking farm brute. His midnight hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail, resting upon his shoulder.

"Mademoiselle, Monsiuer, this is my son Adrien. He was Master Pierre's stable boy and chauffer. Adrien, this is Mademoiselle Angelique and Monsieur Erik Chevalier, her beau," she introduced them.

He bowed his head once more towards them, his deep voice soft as he said, "How do you do?"

"Hello, Adrien," Angelique smiled. "Really, you can all just call me Angelique. There's no need for the formalities."

"Nonsense," Fanette waved it off. "You are the Master's niece, and we are to treat you with the utmost respect. Adrien, where is your father?"

"The kitchen," he sighed. "He refuses to come out."

Fanette gave them an apologetic smile. "He's rather shy about showing himself. His deformity, you know."

"I can understand his intentions," Erik answered, lowering his collar so that the mask was visible in the lamplight of the room.

Both mother and son were stunned by the sight of him but said nothing, quickly looking away. "Why don't you make yourselves comfortable?" she suggested, motioning that they sit on the plush chairs before the fire when she caught movement in the background. "Lamar! Stop hiding, dear. They're lovely people, dear," she implored, hoping to coax him out of hiding.

Slowly, he took several steps forth until he arrived, his face exposed to them. The man was nearing seventy, his hair completely white, his eyes a startling blue color. He was as tall as Erik, and while one half of his face was aging gracefully, the other had been ravaged and nearly mauled off. His flesh had been unable to heal properly, resulting in deep, dark scars, a drooping eye socket, a twisted cheek, and a permanently sliced bottom lip. He held his head high, though his eyes remained downcast as to avoid their gawking. He politely bowed to them, his deep, rasping voice saying, "Welcome…please, excuse my face-"

"There is nothing you need to apologize for," Erik cut in, firm and gentle all at once. "You suffered from an incident during the war, didn't you? There are worse things that could happen." Stepping towards him, he offered his hand. "I am Erik."

The butler gaped at him, startled by his acceptance when he finally noticed the mask. "Perhaps…he is hiding his own deformity?" He shook hands with Erik, nevertheless, and looked him in the eye, a shiver passing through him as he saw two dark holes with golden lights staring back at him. There was no doubt in his mind now – this man, too, had a deformity, perhaps even worse than his. Yet here he was with his new mistress, a pretty young thing, and she seemed to be perfectly fine in his company. A small smile grew on his face as he accepted the man, hope blossoming within his bosom. "You may call me Lamar. Welcome once more."

~OG~

The sun was hidden behind a thick bank of clouds the following morning as a small gathering took place in a little cemetery just a mile away from the town. Having rested in their rooms after the trip, Erik and Angelique awoke that morning and joined the Joubert family for breakfast before riding out to find the preacher and other mourners for the funeral. The day was sullen, however the rain stayed at bay as the priest went on about the ritual and blessed the body of the old Comte.

The whole occasion passed in a blur for Angelique as she stood by, sticking close to Erik as he kept his arm around her, his hat and cloak concealing his mask all the while. Much to his relief, it went unnoticed, as most of the mourners did the same in preparation for the foul weather. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Angelique threw a lone flower upon the casket, her eyes stinging as she silently said good-bye to the man she never knew.

"Angelique."

Erik's voice gently yanked her out of her miserable stupor as she looked up at him, blinking her tears away. "Yes?"

"There's someone here to see you," he said, motioning to a man about Lamar's age, who tipped his hat to her.

"My deepest condolences, mademoiselle," he said kindly. "I hate to approach you in such a state, however I was given explicit orders to come to you once Pierre had passed away."

"You knew him?" she asked, dapping at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"I was his accountant…I managed all his affairs," he answered. "My name is Cornelius Roscoe. The Jouberts have a letter which he instructed me to write, it is meant only for you, therefore once we return to the house, you must read it. It concerns your future, my dear."

Her brows furrowed for an instant before she turned to Erik and raised an eyebrow in confusion. "My future?"

He said nothing, already certain of what the man was talking about. "Come, Angelique. Let us see what this is all about."

Angelique remained perplexed, unsure of what to think or expect. She hadn't thought receiving anything from anyone when she arrived – she'd lost her only relative, she was there to mourn, after all. Still, she went along with the group, wondering what could be so important that she had to be the one to read the letter he had left behind.

Gathering in the study upstairs in Archambault's cottage, Lamar retrieved an envelope locked in the desk, handing it over to Angelique.

"Thank you," she nodded, her hands shaking as she took it. She wasn't sure what to expect, but it was making her nervous as everyone looked at her. Biting her lip, she took the letter opener and sliced the envelope open, tugging the letter out of its cocoon before unfolding it and reading the words aloud.

"My dearest niece…Angelique, I am so sorry we could not meet in the short time I found out about you. I was growing worse with each passing day, my illness taking over, and I did not want you to see me like this. However, I never once forgot about you. After your father and I had a spat many, many years ago, we lost contact. I always had the hope we would be able to meet face to face and resolve it, but I found out about his death and became devastated. I never realized what had happened with you until the Comte de Chagny wrote to me…so for that, I beg your forgiveness...I do hope that you will at least accept these gifts I have to offer. Being that I have no children of my own, I b-" She stopped, gasping as she saw the next set of lines, her hand covering her mouth in shock as her eyes widened. Erik placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her an encouraging squeeze. Fighting back fresh tears, she inhaled deeply and continued. "…I bequeath everything of mine to you, dearest Angelique. You now own the title of Comtesse, my cottage home as well as my house in Paris. My wealth and fortune is yours – you need not worry of working another day in your life…all I ask is that you keep the Jouberts in your service – they are a wonderful family, and I know you will come to love one another day by day. I wish you all the happiness this world has to offer, my dear niece, and that you may not suffer loneliness anymore. Until we meet in Heaven, my child…Your loving uncle, Pierre."

The paper fell from her hands as the sobs she had fought so long broke free. She shook her head in disbelief at the news, overwhelmed by everything that had been written. It was too much to take in all at once, but as she felt Erik wrap his arms around her, she took another breath and held her head high, gripping onto his hand.

"Oh, Miss Angelique!" Fanette smiled, walking over and taking the girl's hands into her own. "I'm so happy for you, truly. If you'll have us, we will gladly serve you, as we did for your uncle."

"Of course I'll keep you," she said, embracing the woman. "This is all just…so very sudden…"

"He had hoped you would be pleased," Roscoe chuckled. "I have all the paperwork here." He withdrew a thick roll of papers from his heavy overcoat, stretching his arm towards her. She accepted, absolutely stunned by the scrolls he passed on to her. "My office is in Paris as well. Should you need anything, I do hope you'll call upon me. My card is inside as well. I must bid you all good-night, I have a cab to catch." Tipping his hat to them, he said his goodbyes and departed at once.

"Well, Mistress?" Lamar asked, bowing his head to her. "What say you? Is there anything you wish at the moment?"

"Oh, Lamar, don't tease her," Fanette playfully scolded him. "He does mean well, child. If you wish to stay or leave, it is your choice."

"Oh…well, I do have to return to Paris with Erik," she confessed. "But…oh, Erik, couldn't we stay a few days?"

"Anything you like, dearest," he nodded. "I already told Rupert about our trip and that we may not be back at the opera for a few days."

"The opera?" blinked Adrien, his eyes locked on them in fascination. "Pardon, but…you both work there?"

"Angelique is the finest seamstress in all of Paris," Erik beamed as he boasted, enjoying watching her blush. "I have recently been made the new manager of the Palais Garnier, but we shan't be announcing that for another three weeks."

"I see…" the boy nodded.

Fanette kissed her son's cheek lovingly before heaving a sigh. "He's fascinated by all that show business…perhaps, Mistress, Monsieur Chevalier, you would be willing to share stories with him sometime."

"Certainly," Angelique nodded as she smiled at the shy young man. "We would be happy to."

Erik nodded, his brows furrowing as he saw a familiar light in the boy's hazel eyes that he had seen in Christine's many months ago. It was that same eagerness, that passion and desire to pour their hearts into their work…curiosity wormed its way into his brain as he stared at the boy, determined to find out just what was his talent. "Perhaps, just perhaps, Erik could assist him…"

~OG~

"Erik?"

Erik's eyes opened upon hearing the soft, sweet voice of Angelique linger in his dark room. Sitting up in bed – which he was most uncomfortable in, considering he barely slept and when he did it was in a coffin – he saw her head poking into his room and motioned for her to enter.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked, slipping inside and shutting the door after her.

"You know that Erik does not sleep well," he sighed, patting the bed.

She sat down and rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to pull her close to his chest. "Maybe…but you have been sleeping much more than you did before."

"That is because my masterpiece is complete," he chuckled, loving the sensation he received as she snuggled against his chest. "And because he knows he has you now…" He chewed his bottom lip, contemplating the events of the day. "…Angelique?"

"Yes Erik?" she mumbled, quite comfortable in his arms.

"…you are a Comtesse now," he said simply. "And Erik is a mere theater manager-"

"Don't start," she frowned, pulling away so she could look him in the eye. "I don't care about what I am, and neither should you."

"Does it not bother you that Erik is not of your status now?" he prodded on, curling a strand of her hair on his long, bony finger.

"It didn't bother me before and it won't now. Mere months ago, I was a runaway servant girl, remember Monsieur Opera Ghost?" she smirked. "Erik, you have a respectable job, you're a genius in more ways any man could hope to be, and I love you. Isn't that enough?"

He nodded, smiling at her, though it slowly started to fade.

"What is it?" she asked, sensing that he was unhappy with something.

"…Erik is not as young as he used to be," he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck as he did so.

"I've seen men as old as Lord Adelshire go after girls as young as Cosette in the corps de ballet," she rolled her eyes. "Speaking of the topic, just how old are you?"

He looked away, clearing his throat as he strummed his fingers rhythmically upon his knee. "…Erik shall be fifty within a year's time, give or take."

"And Philippe de Chagny is in his late forties chasing after a woman who's a year older than me. I'll be twenty-one in a month, Erik, I'm old enough to decide who I want to be with for the rest of my life, aren't I?" she insisted.

He shivered, her words echoing in his mind. "Spend the rest of his life with me, the Phantom…?"

"Erik-?" she asked, startled as he impulsively leaned forward and claimed her mouth, kissing her hungrily. She froze for a moment before surrendering, goosebumps rising on her skin as he pulled her towards him, his fingers curling in her hair and trailing down her back. She wrapped her arms around him, her heart pounding faster than it ever had before. Just as quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled away, gasping for breath and leaving her stupefied. "…E-Er-ik…?" she swooned, still trying to shake off the rush she had dealt with.

"A-hem…Erik is…Erik is very sorry," he stammered, his own pallid face going red. "But…Angelique should not be saying such things to Erik, especially when he is holding up such high hopes and cannot control himself at times and desperately wishes for a future with you and-"

"Wait, what?" she blinked, snapping out of her state. Her eyes widened as her heart began to pound again. "Erik…Erik are you saying-?!"

"Erik has already said too much!" He was frantic now, speed-talking without realizing it, something he did when he was nervous, aside from not looking her in the eye, as well as reverting deeply back into referring to himself in third person. "Erik is too presumptuous to consider such things, especially after only spending such a short time together, and now with the misfortune of your uncle, and it would appear greedy of me to think of asking especially after your newly earned inheritance!" She said nothing, biting her lip as so not to giggle as he continued. She found him adorable, like a child who was trying to come up with an alibi for something deliciously wicked he just did. "So Erik shall not ask, at least not for a while, even though it drives him to madness, and he wishes that you be his and he be yours forever-"

Her lips covered his, stunning him into silence until she pulled away, her cheeks flushed as she asked, "Erik…are you saying that…that maybe someday-"

"Stop," he said, placing his fingertips upon her lips. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye, regaining his composure. "…Erik would like to ask you an important question, one that involves us and a future and…other aspects. " He gulped, she giggled. "However, it is not time…not yet. When the right time comes…I shall ask you, Angelique, and I shall do it properly."

Her eyes glistened with fresh tears as she smiled at him. "…I'll wait, then." She pecked his cheek before embracing him, curling into him as he sighed and held her to his body. "…I'll wait all my life if I have to."

"Not that long," he promised her with a chuckle, stroking her hair soothingly. "…soon, mon ange…soon."