Chapter Twenty-Eight – Victorious Are We
Erik stared wide-eyed at the ensemble, frozen in shock. There was a rather large group at this surprise gathering…the Jouberts, the Adelshires, the de Chagnys, Baron de Castelot-Barbezac, the Girys, La Sorelli and Rebecca Anderson, little Paien, and at last, Angelique, who stepped forth from the group with a single red rose in her hands, offering it to Erik.
"What…what is all this?" he gasped, staring at her in disbelief as his shaking hands took the flower.
"It's an early celebration, Erik…Don Juan Triumphant takes place next week and the part comes afterwards, so I thought it made perfect sense to have an early party with the people who care about you most, here in our home," she explained, caressing his skin-like mask with her fingertips. "I asked Nadir and Raoul to keep you occupied for the past few hours so that we could get this ready when you got home. I made up that story about the tea party to have an excuse to bring the girls here."
"And it worked!" Becca laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "You should have seen the look on your face!"
"You…helped?" Erik asked Raoul and Nadir, dumbfounded by the news.
They nodded, smug. "Putting up with your insults was worth seeing the look on your face when everyone jumped out," Raoul chuckled.
"I…but how did you…and when…?!" Erik choked, much to the group's amusement.
"I had this planned and ready by last week, Erik," Angelique winked coyly. "I, too, can be full of surprises, you know."
"I figured that out the first day we met," he muttered, a smile growing on his lips. Looking back at the masses, he felt his eyes water as he realized how many people had come to care about him and trust him over the past month. "I…I'm not sure what to say, expect…thank you." He bent down, picking up the hyperactive puppy that craved his attention. He caressed the dog's silky back, accepting the wet kisses from the innocent canine as he stared at the masses with teary eyes. "Thank you…" He remained in his dazed state as Angelique turned his head so that she might kiss him before the group, earning the applause of everyone in the room. The two of them blush while Paien yipped at them, his pink tongue lolling out of his open, smiling mouth.
"Well, let's all move into the dining room, dearies!" Fanette chirped, waving at them to follow her as she opened the doors. "Supper will get cold if we stay out here any longer. Come along now!"
The people did as they were told, each one of them congratulating Erik as they entered the vast room. He nodded silently to each person, his hand squeezing Angelique's as he watched them all go in. "…you did this for me?"
"I wish I could have done more," she said softly, her fingers lightly grasping the locket he had given her. "Erik, you've affected our lives in such wonderful ways, and you have such a huge heart that could contain the world…isn't it time that you start receiving love to fill that empty, battered heart of yours?"
He pulled her into an embrace, his throat tight and dry as he tired to speak. "Erik has…that is, I have been alone for so long, avoiding the world's scorn…and to receive all this…mon ange, what would I do without?!"
"Erik," she cooed, rubbing his back soothingly. "It's all right…I love you."
"And I love you," he whispered, kissing her cheek tenderly. He gave her another tight squeeze before offering his arm and regaining his composure. "Come, we can't keep them waiting, can we?"
"No," she giggled, taking Paien from Erik's arms and placing him onto the floor before linking her arm with his. "Erik? What was that bulge in your chest? Did you go shopping?"
"Ah, that is a new vial of red ink, dearest," he lied quickly, a bright smile on his artificial face appearing. "I had to stop by the store before we came home…is that chocolate I smell?"
She grinned, saying it was a surprise before allowing him to help her into her seat. He contained a breath of relief, patting the ring's box within his vest pocket before buttoning his jacket completely. It wasn't time just yet…this had to wait.
~OG~
One Week Later…
"Ten minutes!" one of the stagehands shouted, the announcement being repeated soon afterwards by the others, sending the ballerinas into a frenzy of giggles and shrieks. Erik prowled the area, wearing his skin mask and loving every moment of it. He could now stalk the opera out in the open without drawing attention…it was officially his now, and he had a face to do the job. His stomach was in a knot, but his heart and pride soared higher than any bird had ever flown – tonight, they would perform his magnum opus, and at the retirement party that was to take place afterwards for those two fools, he would be made known to all of Paris…
"Monsieur!" one of the sceneshifters, a lad of fourteen, nearly crashed into Erik, his eyes large as he fixed his cap. "Monsieur Chevalier! Monsieur Joubert is asking for you – it's urgent!"
His brows furrowing, he nodded his consent, following the boy to the dressing rooms. He knocked, startled to find the door swing open and see Adrien's frantic face. "Adrien-?"
"Maestro, we have a problem!" Adrien gasped, grabbing his arm and yanking him inside, the little sceneshifter following in hot pursuit. The child shut the door after them while Erik stepped forth, his eyes widening at the sight of their main singer lying on the divan, coughing and gasping for breath.
"What in Heaven's name-?!" he started.
"I think he has some allergy," Adrien suggested. "Ulrich was fine this afternoon, but we all had a small celebration in the back – you remember, don't you? – and he mentioned afterwards he was feeling a bit off, and now when I came to visit, I found him like this!"
"What did he drink?" Erik demanded to know. Spinning around, he pointed at the startled boy. "Berlioz!"
The boy froze, gawking at him in awe. "Y-You know my name-?"
"I know everyone's name, Berlioz. Listen to me – you'll earn yourself ten francs if you get the doctor in here in five minutes," Erik instructed him. "You should be able to find him in the manager's office with Lord Adelshire, understood?"
"Oui!" he nodded, taking off without another word.
Returning his attention to Ulrich, he studied the man as he stroked his chin in thought. "Do you know what he drank?"
"I think some wine…we didn't have much, it was just a small toast," Adrien said honestly as he thought back to the events of that afternoon. His brows furrowed suddenly, and then his eyes widened. "Oh no."
"'Oh no' what?" Erik asked, grabbing his protégé's shoulders. "Tell me!"
"I think…he must have drunk from Jaq's cup…you know, Jaq the stagehand? He had said he was getting over a cold…they were next to each other for a moment, but…"
Erik swiveled around, grabbing the ill singer's arm. "Did you drink from that man's cup?" he demanded, his eyes on fire. When Ulrich nodded, wincing in pain as he began to cough and sneeze uncontrollably, Erik and Adrien jumped back. "There's nothing more we can do for him…the doctor will have to care for him once her arrives-"
"I found him, monsieur!" Berlioz cried out, the door swinging open violently. "I found him!"
The middle-aged man stepped inside and instantly honed in on his patient, urging the others to go. "No need for the others to catch this," he muttered to himself.
"Well done, my boy," Erik praised the child, slipping his hand into his pocket and handing the money over. "This stays between the three of us, understood?"
"Yes, sir!" the boy cheerfully tipped his hat to the man before running away to get back to work.
Adrien shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. "What do we do now, Maestro? Ulrich's understudy is also ill, but we didn't have a need for him until now!"
"There must be someone," Erik growled, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced the floor. "There has to be someone who is familiar with the words, sings adequately, and fits into the costumes-!"
"Maestro," Adrien gasped, stopping Erik as he placed his hand on his shoulder. His eyes glistened mischievously as he said, "I know who it has to be."
"Who?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow at his pupil.
"Obviously, it must be you."
"M-Me?!" Erik stammered, taking a step back. "But I-"
"Five minutes to curtain!" the stagehands called out to the performers, causing Erik to wince. He glanced back at Ulrich's door, imagining himself in the costumes Angelique had created, being up on stage with her, displaying his voice for the world to hear…
A slow, wicked grin grew on his face, his eyes flashing with the same mischief that Adrien has shown. "You go on ahead, Adrien. I need to get the costumes from Ulrich."
~OG~
Adelshire kissed Mary chastely on the cheek before waving her off, allowing her to scurry after Christine Daae de Chagny to their own private box for the performance. He couldn't stop smiling, his excitement making him so jittery that he had to take several sips of wine back at the manager's office. He strolled down the halls of the opera, knocking on the door of Box Four and waiting for a response.
"Come in," a voice answered. He stepped inside and shut the door after him, beaming as he shook hands with Moncharmin and Richard. "Hello old friends, I take it your trip went well?"
"Splendid!" Richard gushed, gazing off dreamily at a wall. "Vienna was lovely…"
"We found a lovely chateau on the outskirts of this little town," Moncharmin informed him. "It really was perfect. It is good to be back, though."
"Oh yes, just wonderful," Richard grimaced.
Adelshire chuckled, amused at the two men. "Well, let's have a seat, shall we? The orchestra's already starting."
A hush came over the crowd as they sat down, but Adelshire continued to check behind him, his brows furrowed. "Odd…" he muttered.
"What is?" Moncharmin asked, flipping through his programme.
"Nothing, it's just…well, the new manager, he was supposed to be here. I was going to introduce you to him, but-"
"Ladies and gentlemen!" called out a voice, earning their attention at once. Leaning towards the balcony, they squinted to see Monsieur Mercier, the acting manager and Remy the secretary standing upon the stage with the closed curtains behind them. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, Monsieur Ulrich Guttenburg has fallen ill and cannot partake in the performance."
There was a murmur and soft grumble that rolled through the vast auditorium, like an unhappy wave that sloshed precariously over the people. Moncharmin and Richard paled at this, sending Adelshire a look of horror. "That blasted specter is ready to ruin the farewell performace!" Richard squeaked.
"The role of Don Juan will be performed by Monsieur Erik Chevalier," the shaking secretary announced, looking about as frightened as a hunted rabbit. The discontented murmurs soon changed into whispers of surprise and curiosity as many recognized the name of the new manager.
Once more, Adelshire received incredulous looks from both managers, who gaped at him with giant eyes. "Your new manager is the main lead?!" Richard asked, his jaw dropping. "What is this absurdity-?!"
"Just give it a chance, mon ami," Adelshire smirked, leaning back in his seat. "I think you will be pleasantly surprised."
The orchestra took its cue, starting out soft and sweet as the curtains pulled away to reveal a tiny, rustic home in which a woman gave birth to a son…when suddenly, she saw his face and screeched. The music burst out of the pit, pulsing angrily through the air, startling everyone.
"Monster!" the "mother" cried out in song, covering her eyes as the "midwife" forcefully placed the bundle in her arms. "What a monster! My God, what horror have you cursed upon me?!"
The stage darkened and thus the story began many years later, according to the programme, in the elegant home of a man known as "Don Juan" to the people of the town. "G-Goodness," Richard gasped, fanning himself with the paper in his hands. "That was rather…intense."
"Remarkable," Moncharmin nodded. "What a way to grab the audience's attention. Just look at them." He motioned with his head at the masses below, seeing how the women placed their hands over their hearts, the men murmuring to one another before leaning forward, as if to get a better look.
The story moved on, with an array of marvelous characters and gorgeous, heart-wrenching music. Among the actors were Rebecca Anderson, playing the role of the beautiful Adalia, with whom Don Juan had fallen madly in love with; there was also young Adrien Joubert in his debut role as Adalia's lover, Don Percival. The two had magnificent voices that twirled and intertwined in the air, sending the women into such a blissful state that they would grab onto their husbands' arms and coddle with them. One of the most intriguing of all the performers was the girl who played Isabel, Adalia's personal servant.
"Wait a moment…why, that's Angelique Archambault!" Moncharmin smiled. "She's wonderful!"
"What?!" Richard gaped, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. "That can't be-!"
Isabel sang innocently of what it might be like to be in love, curious about this Don Juan that left bountiful gifts for her mistress until she finally found him in the next scene, a great ball taking place when a magnificent figure decked in black and gold entered, stunning everyone, actors and audience alike. The two managers tensed upon seeing him, sensing a familiar, ominous aura emanating from his presence. Adelshire said nothing, partially because he wanted to watch them sweat, partially because he was quite enthralled watching the opera come to life.
An instant connection is made between the servant and eccentric nobleman, first starting out as an uneasy alliance that resulted in her assisting him to woo Adalia. Occasionally, bits of his past – his bloody, horrifying, painful past – were told to the kind yet stubborn Isabel as she became a confidant…until a man from her past came to torment her. The tormenter assaulted Isabel, and try as she might, she could not escape him…until Don Juan stepped forth and killed him, in the process losing his mask. Adelshire grinned at the makeup that had been done on Erik's face, which he assumed to be another of his clever masks. It looked very much like a Death's head with no nose…unless…His brows furrowed, his eyes widening as he realized that this face, coated in skin-hued makeup with a fake nose added onto his face, was his true form. Everyone gawked and found it awesome, clapping and gasping at the reveal. They were quite entertained and clueless as to the true story behind this opera, or his face.
"How grotesque!" Richard gagged, covering his mouth at once.
"Impressive makeup," Moncharmin nodded. "Poor man…the 'Don Juan' character, I mean. How terrible it must have been for him."
"Indeed," Adelshire nodded, his heart aching for Erik. He understood now…he understood, and wished he had known sooner.
Isabel, though frightened by him, gave him his mask and vowed to be loyal to him for saving her life. It was at this point, when a friendship between them bloomed, that Don Juan fought to sort out his feelings for Adalia and Isabel. The show went on, displaying the heartache that Isabel felt as she fell deeper in love with the strange man, while Adalia refused to see him and yearned for Percival's affection. As Don Juan and Don Percival fought over Adalia towards the end of the third act, everyone was on the edge of their seats, gaping in awe at the display. Suddenly, as Don Juan began to lose his footing, Isabel stepped in front of him, spreading her arms out as though she were a shield, nearly getting stabbed by Percival.
"Leave him be!
Kill me if you must –
It's not infatuation,
No, not even lust!
I love him,
Oh God, how I love him!"
Isabel fell to her knees, weeping as she thought she would die of a broken heart, her love unrequited, when Don Juan grabbed her by her shoulders and took her in his arms. He begged her to tell him it was true, to prove it, so she kissed him. The women in the audience sighed and swooned while the men chuckled or watched on in approval. The scene was passionate and tender, tears being shed as Don Juan begged for forgiveness when he suddenly stopped, reaching for his mask as he felt that something wasn't right. Pulling it off, he showed his face once more. The audience gasped and wept in wonder and glee as he displayed a normal, somewhat handsome looking face.
"There you are, Erik," Lord Adelshire smiled, wishing he could stretch his hand out and touch him. "That is what you look like inside now, what we all see you as." Isabel kissed her Don Juan once more before he wrapped his cloak around her and carried her off, wishing Adalia and Percival well before taking his Isabel off into the sunset, promising to change for the better as the curtain fell down.
Even before the curtain fully closed and the powerful crescendo of the orchestra had died out, the people were up on their feet, applauding as though their lives depended upon it. They were crying, whistling, cheering, begging for an encore, but best of all, they were smiling. Moncharmin leapt to his feet and clapped madly, beaming as the curtain opened once more for the cast to take a final bow. "Beautiful! Astounding! This was…perfection!"
Richard was flabbergasted and weeping in his seat until Moncharmin and Adelshire helped him up. He blubbered like a child, wiping his face with his handkerchief as he nodded his agreement. For once, he was at a loss for words.
Adrien and Becca received generous amounts of praise when they stepped out together, waving to their friends in Boxes Four and Ten. They soon stepped aside and made way for the last two figures, grinning as they joined their cast members and the audience in clapping for the stars. Angelique and Erik stepped out with their arms linked, each taking their turn to bow. At the insistence of the crowd, Erik slipped off his mask to reveal his face – his skin mask, of course – and bowed once more, a bewildered yet charming smile gracing his features as he looked out amongst the people. His eyes widened as Angelique kissed his cheek before the masses, earning cries and shouts of excitement. With a sly grin, he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly before motioning for the rest of the cast to step forth to bow as a whole. After motioning to the conductor, the orchestra, and the stagehands and sceneshifters behind them, the group stepped back and allowed the curtain to fall once again.
"Now that was a farewell performance," Moncharmin sighed. "That Chevalier fellow…he's certainly something else."
"Yes," Adelshire whispered, his own eyes tearing up. "He certainly is."
~OG~
"Here he is!" Adelshire grinned as he caught sight of the dark, shadowy figure that appeared to be dragged in by his costar. "Everyone, I have an announcement to make!"
"Angelique, I can't," Erik protested in a whisper, suddenly timid and wary of all the attention he was receiving.
"Erik," she said gently, still tugging at his arm. "This is your moment, mon cher…please."
He bit his tongue, letting her help him into the light of the banquet hall, where everyone applauded the moment he stepped foot inside. His lips twitched into an awkward smile as his mind wondered when someone would see past the farce and point at him screaming, "Monster!" No one did so, however, and as he moved with Angelique until they arrived at the center of the room where Adelshire and the managers waited, he began to feel much more comfortable in his own skin.
"Everyone, may I have your attention please?" Lord Rupert Adelshire called out, motioning with his one free hand for the masses to lower their ecstatic chatter to a minimum, his other hand holding a glass full of champagne. "Thank you. As you are all familiar with from the rumors you've heard, Monsieurs Richard and Moncharmin will be retiring and moving to Vienna." He paused, allowing the information to sink in before continuing. "However, as I am already certain you have heard, I did hire a new manager, and you have had the pleasure and privilege of seeing and hearing him perform tonight in the title role of Don Juan Triumphant. Erik? Come here, please." Erik did as he was told, catching sight of Angelique's motion to stand straight. He did so, raising his head at last in confidence as he looked out at the people. "I should like to introduce our elusive and brilliant new manager, and co-owner, Erik Chevalier!"
Erik's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he heard the word "co-owner" leave Adelshire's mouth. His head snapped towards the old man while the room was filled with more thunderous applause. "C-Co-…owner?!" he choked.
"Ah yes," Adelshire nodded, snatching another flask of champagne and offering it to him. "I had wanted to tell you last week, but I thought I would surprise you instead. Of course, you'll have to sign the contract and-"
"But, why?" Erik asked, his voice soft and pleading, reminding Adelshire of a humble little boy who had just received an award.
"Because you deserve it, Erik…and I am not as young as I used to be," he said gently, a sad smile growing on his lips. Placing his hands on Erik's thin shoulders, he said aloud, "If God had granted me a son, Erik Chevalier, I wish it would have been you…I am honored to know you, and most delighted to have you as a partner." Slipping his hands off, he offered one to Erik waiting for a response. He watched, exhilarated, as Erik's quaking hand rose and gripped his, shaking it feverishly, almost as if for support.
"Thank you…thank you!" Erik breathed, accepting the old man's embrace as the people began to cheer and offer toasts.
"Here, here!" they called out, clinking their glasses and congratulating him on his victories, smiling and laughing in mirth. Glancing back, Erik felt his heart soar as Angelique beamed at him, her stormy-hued eyes glistening with bliss. He beckoned her to come to him, his arms opening wide for her. She rushed at once, crushing her decadently dressed body against his. He held her to him, not caring what anyone thought at the moment. She wore a light perfume, Rose à l'Aube, a gift from Christine, which only served to intoxicate him as he curled his gloved fingers into her shining auburn locks that she had left alone, cascading down her shoulders and framing her face. She wore one of the fine dresses he had bought for her, a rich crimson gown that hugged her waist and billowed around her, her shoulders just barely covered with a sheer, shimmering tulle fabric. She was breathtaking innocence, wrapped in delicious temptation, and she was his.
"A gentleman…you are a gentleman now, Erik, in everyone's eyes, not just hers, nor your own," he reminded himself, realizing that the step was most likely too forward, especially in a public setting. "But what should it matter? She is mine, she loves Erik…" He sighed, gently pulling away from her. "No…it shall be done properly…she at least deserves that much."
"Monsieur, I just wanted to wish you congratulations!" Moncharmin beamed, walking up to Erik and offering his hand, completely clueless that he was about to shake hands with "the Ghost". "Everything that you've done with the Garnier…I simply can't put it into words!"
"You are too kind, Monsieur Moncharmin," he answered crisply, a cool smile on his lips.
"Comtesse Archambault," Moncharmin added warmly, kissing her hand. "It's lovely to see you again."
"Likewise," she smiled brightly. "I do hope you and Monsieur Richard find your retirement enjoyable. It is a shame you couldn't stay longer." She cast a look at Erik, to which he simply smiled sweetly at her.
"This was just meant to be," he chuckled. "The Opera House is in extremely capable hands now…Richard! Come over and say hello, won't you?"
"Oh, yes, of course," the man said, cautiously making his way over. He smiled weakly at Angelique, having found out that this humble, lowly seamstress which he had constantly berated and belittled was now a Comtesse and currently the love of the new co-owner and manager of the Palais Garnier. "How do you do? Ah, I do hope you'll forgive me, mademoiselle, for the trouble I might have caused you when you first arrived-"
"There's no need for that," she started.
"Let him finish, dearest," Erik cut in, his eyes glowing at Richard. "We mustn't leave certain things unsaid." He could see the man shiver under his gaze, enjoying his pale face as he stared at him.
"Erik!" she scolded him through her clenched jaw.
"Erm, I am truly, very sorry," Richard squeaked, immediately scurrying away. "Ah, do excuse me, I'm not feeling so well."
"Pardon me, I'd better check on him. It'll only be a moment," Moncharmin excused himself as he ran after his friend, his brows furrowing. Grabbing a hold of his shoulder, he was startled to find Richard as pale as a tablecloth. "What on earth is the matter with you, man? One would think you'd seen a ghost."
"I might have," Richard shuddered, continuing to move away. "I just might have…"
~OG~
The stars winked and shone daintily in the night sky above as the Jouberts, Comtesse, and Erik made their way home late that evening, each of them splitting off into their respective rooms after heartily wishing each other a good night's rest and a final congratulations to the performers of the household.
"Well done, Adrien," Angelique said, kissing his forehead. "You were wonderful! I'm so proud of you."
"As am I," Erik smiled, patting the young man's shoulder. "You were a success, and this is only the beginning."
"I hope to be as good as you someday, Maestro," he grinned, embracing the man. "None of this would have happened without you."
He accepted the physical gesture of gratitude much more easily nowadays, so he gave the boy a gentle squeeze before nodding his head. "Thank you, Adrien…you are a wonderful student…now go, get some rest." He watched Adrien as he bowed and took off, finally coming down from his emotional high from the performance and praise.
"I think it's time we also get our rest," Angelique yawned. Stretching onto the tips of her toes, she kissed his jaw as she caressed his cheek. "Goodnight, Erik."
"Goodnight, Angelique," he whispered, watching her skirts swish after her as she walked down the hall and entered her room. There was something sensual in the way she walked, the motion of her carelessly tossing her hair over her shoulder calling to him. He shook his head, hurrying down to his room, where Paien instantly bounded off his little bed and greeted him. "What Erik needs is a cold bath," he muttered, kneeling down to pet the exuberant puppy.
"With ice!" the puppy yipped.
"Yes, with lots of ice," Erik chuckled, letting the dog kiss his face. Peeling the mask off from his face, he carefully set it aside before carrying the dog with him into his private bathroom, turning the faucet on and watching the water stream out. Perhaps the bath would soothe him after all the excitement and triumphs of that day.
A/N: Any and all cheesy "Don Juan Triumphant" lyrics you read in this fanfic are mine ^_^ Hope you enjoyed and please be sure to leave your thoughts! See you all next time!