Chapter Thirty – Cendrillon et le Bete
"I love it," Angelique mumbled, running her fingers over the fabric before Fanette helped her take the gown off. "Erik's design turned out gorgeous."
"And your sewing skills are remarkable," the woman beamed.
"I did get lots of help," Angelique grinned at the lady, earning an embrace.
"We were more than happy to assist you, dearie," she reassured her.
"This is so exciting!" Meg squealed, hopping up and down. "I can't wait!"
"Can you believe the wedding is in two weeks?!" Sorelli sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It's going to be grand…small, but grand."
"Thank you for inviting us all," Christine smiled, embracing the seamstress-turned-Comtesse. "It's such an honor to be part of the wedding."
"You're all not just friends, but family," Angelique explained. "I only wish Mary could make it-"
"Well, you're in for a treat," Becca smirked as she entered the room without knocking.
Everyone spun around to greet her as she entered Angelique's bedroom at the Archambault estate. It had started to snow lightly outside, coating the singer in the soft white fuzz that had already started to melt. "Sorry I'm late, but you'll never believe who I found just as I was getting ready to leave the Palais!"
"Is it-?" Angelique started, her eyes widening in delight as Mary Adelshire entered the room with arms wide open. "Mary! Oh, dear Mary!"
"I've missed you all!" Mary exclaimed, running to the others. They all attacked her, forming a group hug in the center of the room, giggling and kissing and chatting all at once. Paien pounced the girl's skirts, prompting her to kneel down and kiss his wet nose. "He's gotten so much bigger since I was last here…before anybody says or asks anything, I have news!" Fanette urged them all to lower their voices before they finally focused their attention on the young lady and listened to her announcement. "You all know that I've been taking classes for management and I'm top of my class-"
"No need to brag," Sorelli smirked. "On with it!"
"I'm qualified!" she screamed, her face glowing with excitement. "I passed the classes and I've graduated – in a way – so I've come to celebrate my success as well as your marriage!"
"Mary!" gasped Meg. "That's excellent-"
"That's not the best part," she grinned. "I stopped by the opera to tell Grandpapa the news and I saw Monsieur Chevalier. When I told them, he offered me a job as his assistant and secretary since Monsieur Mercier and Monsieur Remy are retiring!"
"That's…incredible!" Becca gaped. "I had no idea Erik wouldn't mind working with a woman, especially since you're so young."
"I know, but I am excited, and it's a big responsibility," she gushed. "I'm going to work very hard to prove myself to everyone."
"I know you'll do well, mon cher," Angelique beamed, kissing her forehead. "I suppose this means you'll be moving in with your grandfather?"
"Oh yes," she nodded. "There's no place I'd rather be."
"Except, perhaps, with Fanette's dashing and charming son?" Christine asked, cocking her head as she raised an eyebrow at the girl.
Fanette laughed and embraced Mary as she blushed in response to Christine's prodding question. "He misses you sorely, you know, mademoiselle. He'll be so happy to hear you're back."
Mary accepted the woman's comforting words when her eyes caught sight of the wedding dress. She stared in awe at the gown – it was a shimmering hue of pearl white, a high collar made of a sheer fabric covering the neck, shoulders, and collarbone with pearl buttons down to the bust, where the bodice and sleeves were made of silk. Roses had been embroidered on the material, the slender sleeves puffing out just before coming back and cuffing the wrists. The skirt billowed out just enough to complete the princess look. Angelique was completely covered with this gown, and yet, with the delicacy and snugness of the gown, she was demurely provocative. "Oh my…Angelique, did you design this?"
"Erik did…I made it with everyone's help, though," she admitted.
"Oh, you'll look perfect!" she gasped, embracing her once more. "I can't believe you're getting married!"
"It's about time!" Becca laughed. "He's madly in love with her. I was surprised when the Comte de Chagny beat him to the punch and asked Sorelli for her hand back in May."
"Yes, well, Monsieur Chevalier is rather shy," the dancer chuckled. "He's really quite the gentleman…you are very lucky, mon ami."
"You're right, I am," Angelique smiled. "I feel like the luckiest girl in the world."
~OG~
"A toast to Erik Chevalier," Raoul said aloud as the men gathered in the de Chagny library and shared their drinks, raising their glasses skyward. "A man who's been changed for the better, and thus has improved all our lives."
"Here, here!" Henri grinned, the others following in his suit.
They all gently knocked their glasses together before gulping the fluids down, still congratulating Erik.
"Thank you all," Erik repeated for what felt like the millionth time that night. "I cannot express my gratitude enough through words, so I shall do it in the only way I know best how to."
"Did you compose something, Maestro?" Adrien asked, looking over at his father with eyes full of hope.
"I did," he admittedly with a shrug. "It's a small piece-"
"Well, go on and play it!" Philippe grinned, urging the server to bring more wine.
"That was very thoughtful of you, Erik," Adelshire chuckled as he clinked his glass with Lamar's once more. "It's very touching."
"Music is my pen, my tongue, my shield," Erik explained as he walked to the next room, the group of men following close behind. He stopped before the instrument in the drawing room, not daring to look back as he clenched his hands. "…I have never had friends…nor family…no one to turn to…and suddenly, I receive all this…"
Nadir stepped forth, placing his hand on his friend's bony shoulder. "We shall not abandon you, Erik…believe me when I say that you are a bright light in our lives, and we have come to admire you. We wish you all the best."
He nodded, not daring to say anything for fear of choking on his words. Pulling away, he sat at the piano and played his tune for them, letting himself become absorbed in the song. His friends gathered around, spellbound by the intricate, brief tune he had composed, exchanging glances of awe and amazement. The notes danced and swirled around their heads, rich and deep with a dainty undertone. When at last he stopped, he was startled by the applause he received from his entourage, having been so engrossed in the music.
"Well done," Raoul grinned as Erik stood and bowed to them. "Thank you for that marvelous display."
"Angelique is to be envied if she gets to listen to that each day," Adelshire chuckled.
"Speaking of which, since Angelique is a Comtesse, you shall become Comte Chevalier once you marry, Erik," Henri noted. "That is, if she allows it."
"We have…discussed it," Erik nodded, running his skeleton-like fingers through his dark hair. "Since she has accepted my surname, she asked that I accept the title 'Comte', as we will be bound by marriage and there is paperwork that must go through…it shall be official once we say our vows."
"That is most excellent," the Persian smiled. "You are very fortunate."
"Yes," he said simply.
Henri whispered something to Raoul, who began to laugh heartily. The two young men gave Erik mischievous looks, causing him to raise an eyebrow at them. "Erik, Angelique is your blushing bride…but we understand that you have not had a woman before her."
"With this face?" he sneered. "Of course not! What does it matter, anyway?"
"Well, that means that you're still a…well, you know!" Henri snickered.
"A…?" Erik prodded on, not amused in the least.
"A virgin?" Adrien offered innocently, causing Nadir to spew his drink out from shock.
Erik's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets while most of the men in the room started to laugh. Lamar and Adelshire gave them berating look, rolling their eyes. "How immature," Lamar muttered.
"That is nothing to be ashamed of," Rupert Adelshire sniffed.
"In my country, we do not talk so openly about these topics," Nadir sniffed.
"In your country, assassinations and concubines are as common place as salt," Raoul rolled his eyes.
"Enough, all of you," Philippe snapped. "If you're not going to help him, then don't say anything."
"Help me?" Erik echoed, his stomach feeling like a boulder.
"Well, for starters, don't dive right in, if you catch my drift," Raoul cautioned him, dead serious. "Be gentle with her."
"And take your time," Philippe added lightly, lighting his pipe. "No need to rush."
"This is most inappropriate," Nadir frowned, earning nods of approval from Joubert and Adelshire.
"Sure, but we all know what you think of Rebecca Anderson," Henri smirked.
"Oh yes, and your affections for Meg Giry go unnoticed," the Persian quipped back coolly, earning a glare from the young Baron.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Adelshire shouted, motioning with his hands to cool down. "Please, I know we're all getting excited-" He earned many laughs at the last comment. "-but let us remember why we are here – to celebrate our friend's success and happiness. So, let us go into the dining hall and toast him once more as we fill our bellies with good food and our minds with merry memories." He winked at Erik, who in turn gave him a grateful smile. Adelshire found it strange that he had decided to wear his old white mask with only his eyes, mouth, and chin exposed, but it brought a sense of nostalgia from the days when they had first met. Patting the talented man on the back, he whispered in Erik's ear, "I have my own little surprise for you." When Erik gave him an uncertain look, he continued, "I have your honeymoon planned out."
Erik gawked at him, stunned. "T-To where-?"
"London, my dear man," he grinned. "You've never been there, and you've traveled nearly all over the world. You may stay at my old residence – there's only a maid who appears every week to check on the house in my absence. I have the passage booked for the following morning after your wedding, and everything is all set. I hope you don't mind, but I thought it would be the best gift I could offer since neither of you have parents that can spoil you. It brings back memories of my dear son when he was married, God bless his soul." He made a sign of the Cross and sighed, remembering his deceased offspring. "Please Erik, won't you accept it?"
"You have offered me the world and still continue to shower me with gifts from the heavens," Erik whispered, embracing the man. "Of course I accept. Angelique will be most pleased. Thank you…my dear friend."
The old man held Erik tightly in his arms before pulling away and rubbing his eye. "Ah, well then, shall we?" he cleared his throat, motioning for Erik to enter.
Half-heartedly, the man known as the "Opera Ghost" cast him a smile before sitting down and reaching for his napkin.
"Maestro?"
Glancing to his side, he saw Adrien sitting next to him, leaning towards him. "What is it, Adrien?" he asked softly, also moving towards his pupil.
"Forgive me, but…I don't suppose you could give me some suggestions?" he whispered.
His brows furrowed at this. "Suggestions? Whatever for?"
"I…I want to court Mary Adelshire, sir, but I'm not sure how to ask…or if she'll approve of me," he admitted, his eyes downcast. "She's headstrong and beautiful and independent…I'm just a stable boy-"
"You're a famous singer now," Erik corrected him. "And a fine young man who is a gentleman at heart. Besides," he rolled his eyes with a cruel chuckle. "I'm not the ideal person to go to for advice on how to woo a lady."
"I trust your judgment, Maestro," he insisted stubbornly. "You are the one man, aside from the Lord and my father, that I see as a mentor and great advisor."
The young man's words touched Erik so much that he clutched his heart, his throat dry as his eyes stung from withholding tears. "I…I see…thank you, Adrien. You are the finest young man I know…and a wonderful pupil." Heaving a sigh of defeat, he watched the boy's face light up as he said, "Very well, I shall give you some…suggestions, but not a word of this to anyone, understood?"
"Yes, Maestro," he nodded as the servants came out with their supper. "Yes…thank you!"
~OG~
"Angelique!" Jammes squealed as the seamstress walked into the ballet girls' dormitory with a rather large parcel in her hands. "It's Angelique!"
"The Comtesse!" the girls exclaimed, rushing towards her as she set the boxes down.
"Hello, girls!" she grinned, hugging each one of them, kissing their foreheads. "Back up a bit and I can hand out your presents."
"Presents?!" the girls screeched in frenzied ecstasy. They did as they were told, waiting to receive their gifts.
"Oh, Mademoiselle!" little Louise beamed as she saw the Comtesse hand out new ballet slippers, colorful hair ribbons, and even fine Parisian pastries to each and every girl. "Thank you! You're so thoughtful!"
"It's my pleasure," she said, kissing the girl's nose. "You've all been so sweet and kind to me, ever since I came into the opera, so it's the very least I could do."
"Bring us something back from your trip!" Jammes said greedily, earning a jab at her side from Meg. "OW! What was that for?"
"Stop being such a little magpie – be satisfied with what you have!" Meg scolded her.
"You're getting to be as bad as Sorelli!" Jammes whined.
"Pardon?" Sorelli asked as she approached, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing!" she squeaked, scurrying away like the ballet rat she was.
Once the corps de ballet had dispersed after thanking their seamstress for the marvelous little gifts, Angelique accepted a seat from the elder girls, consisting of Sorelli, Meg, Josephine, and Charlotte. "So," Josephine grinned as they sat and stood around their patroness. "Do you know where the honeymoon will take place?"
"London," Angelique beamed. "Erik told me last night when he got home. Lord Adelshire is letting us stay at his old residence while we're there."
"How long will you be away?" Meg asked, selecting a rather plump chocolate and popping it into her mouth.
"Oh, I suppose a fortnight. Erik can't bear to be away to long from here. He loves it," she confessed. "And I would get homesick."
"I'd stay away as long as possible!" Charlotte gasped, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You should do the same. Before you know it, you'll be very busy, if you catch my drift." She winked at the group, earning giggles from each female there.
"Are you nervous?" Josephine whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the other ballerinas didn't catch what they were talking about.
"Why should I be?" Angelique asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't listen to them," Sorelli waved them off. "I'm sure Erik is the perfect gentleman and will be most delicate when he takes you."
"When he what?" she gaped at them.
"Darling, you may be a virgin, but you're not stupid," the head dancer rolled her eyes. "You know perfectly well what I mean."
"O-Oh…well, I'd rather not think of that just yet-"
"Why not?" Josephine and Charlotte said simultaneously, giggling as though they were mad. "I've heard it's painful," Charlotte whispered. "Sometimes we talk to the old girls who have left the opera and we see all the children they have. It can't be that painful if they keep having more!"
"It's not painful when you…well, create the child," Meg said, giving them an unimpressed look. "At least, that's what Maman said. It's when you have to give birth that it becomes unbearable."
Angelique bit her lip and fought not to squirm in their presence. She was just as old as some of these girls but she felt like a child as they spoke, feeling as though she was standing in a room naked while they gawked at her. Whatever had to happen once she and Erik got married, they would go through with it, but talking about it with these giggling geese only served to make her skin crawl.
"Well, enough about that," Sorelli spoke, cutting their conversation short. "Aren't you going to meet with Christine today?"
"Yes, she's going to help me with decorations," Angelique breathed, relieved that the topic had changed. A smile came to her face as she added, "…and I'm going to help her think about a name."
"A name?" Josephine asked, blinking in confusion.
"You don't mean…? OH!" Meg gasped, her face lighting up. "When did she find out?!"
"Just this morning – Raoul almost fainted!" Angelique laughed.
"Oh! How lovely!" Sorelli laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "What does she think it's going to be?"
"A boy…she's going to see a midwife sometime later this week," she grinned. Rising from her seat, she adjusted her scarf and embraced each one of them. "I have to go, but I'll see you all later."
"You'd better!" Charlotte scolded her teasingly.
"Comtesse! Comtesse, wait!" Jammes called out, running to her at once. She tackled the young lady with an embrace and tugged at her braid, complete with the new bright pink ribbon she had just received. "Thank you for the presents again!"
"You're very welcome," she answered kindly. "I promise, I'll bring you all something from my trip to London."
"Oh good! Angelique?"
"Yes?"
"How does…how does the Phantom feel about this?" she whispered, causing Sorelli's eyes to roll, while Meg giggled. Josephine and Charlotte paled, their eyes darting about the room as she mentioned the specter's name.
"About…my wedding?" she asked, raising an eyebrow mischievously. "Well, I haven't heard any protests from him as of late. I don't think he minds…why would it matter at any rate?"
"It's just…may I talk to you outside?" Jammes asked, stubbornly tugging at her arm.
Amused, Angelique waved goodbye to the others before letting the girl take her outside into the hall, a few steps away from the door. "What's the matter, Jammes?"
"It's just that…I thought maybe you and the Phantom were…in love?" she whispered, her eyes scanning the perimeter.
Angelique felt her heart stop within her chest as she put on a patronizing smile. "Oh, dearest, I don't think-"
"But the last time I heard him, months ago, it was after you and Miss Daae had vanished, and he called for you in the workroom, remember?!" she insisted so loudly that Angelique shushed her at once. "He called you 'my Angel'!...wait! It's Monsieur Chevalier, isn't it?!" she gasped dramatically. "The Ghost has taken his form so he can walk amongst us and be with you! That's why he can't be away from the Opera House for too long!"
"She's sharp," Angelique thought. "Jammes, I think this is a lovely little story you've conjured, but-"
"But it's not a story! I know it's true!" Jammes stomped her foot stubbornly, pouting at the Comtesse. "If the Phantom speaks up and says something at this very moment, then I know it's true – he's always listening, you know. If he says nothing, then I know it's not true."
Angelique bit her tongue, not sure whether to panic or roll her eyes. "The Opera Ghost does not love-"
"Angelique…"
The two girls froze in place at the sound of the velvet timbre that floated down and settled around them. It was a whisper in her ear, a faint caress that she couldn't get enough of. Angelique wanted to close her eyes and fall back into his arms, surrender to his embrace – she knew he would catch her, should she attempt such a feat, and it would frighten little Jammes out of her wits. She fought the urge, fought Erik's playfulness, and stood perfectly still, holding her breath.
"D-Did you hear-?" the ballerina whispered, paling as she heard the voice once more.
"Angelique…" the air moaned, her name rolling off his tongue as he echoed himself. "Come back to me…"
"I told you!" Jammes hissed, darting to and fro in an effort to find the source of the hypnotic, sensual voice that continued to sigh for the seamstress. "The Phantom loves you! He must be furious about Chevalier, unless they're the same person!"
"Jammes, this is ridiculous," she lied, starting to walk after the girl when she sensed a presence behind her. She gasped as a set of long, thin arms encircled her and pulled her towards a man's torso, one of his gloved hands covering her mouth to muffle her cry of surprise. "Erik-!" she started, silenced by a pair of cold, clammy lips that ravished her mouth hungrily.
"Angelique, you should go to him-!...Angelique?!" Jammes all but screamed when she saw that she wasn't around. "Angelique, this isn't funny!" she hissed.
"Mon ange," Erik whispered, tormenting both Angelique and Jammes in two totally different ways.
"Mon Dieu, he's taken her away!" she screeched, torn between gleeful delight and utter horror. She ran off without another word until she entered the dormitories and slammed the door after her, screaming, "The Ghost stole the Comtesse!"
"Erik, look what you've done," she scolded him, her eyes fluttering shut as he ran his fingers down her arms and back up, grabbing hold of her shoulders. "There'll be scandals…rumors…!" It was so difficult, trying to think straight while he was behind her, caressing her in the shadows where no one could see them. She was spellbound, resting against his chest as she raised her hands to touch his face. She felt him suck in a deep breath as she touched his bare face, feeling his cold skin under her soft fingertips.
"The Opera Ghost can't die completely, you said so yourself," he murmured, taking hold of her chin in his hand and turning her face so that he could claim her mouth once more. "And he cannot deny what he feels for the Cinderella of this establishment."
"Hmph," she struggled to say, but his mouth made it difficult for her to utter anything other than a moan of wonder.
"It's true," he chuckled, sending shivers down her spine as he pulled away only to move his lips down her neck. "You are Cendrillon, and you have tamed le Bete of the Palais Garnier."
"Those are fairy tales, Erik, we're real," she rambled on, still distracted by his affections.
"Ah, mon ange, that is what Erik's life feels like now," he sighed as he buried his face in her hair. "You've changed it from a tragic play into a happy, bright fairy tale…however, I can't let the legend just die. Besides, it gives the ballet rats something to gossip about."
"You just like to tease them," she smirked, turning around and wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned forth, her eye half-lidded as she gazed at his grotesque lips, sending his blood racing. "What will they think of me, married to the owner of the opera and having an affair with a ghost?"
"Every opera needs its scandals and secrets," he grinned wickedly. "But if you do not wish it-"
"I can handle myself just fine…besides, we know the truth." The conversation evaporated with another kiss that lasted, perhaps, for eons in their snug, private hideaway behind the trapdoors.