Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, or Meg, or Madame Giry, or any other characters from the ingenious mind of Gaston Leroux! Anne, however, she's mine...well, she resides in my head until her story is done.

AN: The beginning is a flashback to Elizabeth's wedding day. After the page break, is present day.

Chapter 48

The wedding reception was just moments away and Elizabeth softly touched the delicate curls that fell over her left shoulder. The beautiful diamond ring sparkled on her finger and she smiled at the sight. She looked so beautiful in her dress of crisp white with gold trim. Everything she wore and did spoke of the luxurious life she led and the marvelous man she had married. Why then did that Anne always seem happier each time she saw her?! It was infuriating! Anne had no money, and worked in an Opera House! She had no connections...nothing to tempt a respectable man!

"I don't understand why I have to keep associating with her," Elizabeth muttered, casting her grandmother a dark glare. The elderly matron of the family stood off to the side, wearing her dress of a purple so dark it was almost black. "She does nothing for me or for this family. I have all of Paris at my feet. I've even managed to secure the interest of the Vicomtesse de Chagny!"

Madame Hillcrest rolled her eyes and clenched her cane tightly in her hand. She was a woman who always knew exactly what she was doing and now she was very grateful in not trusting the grand scheme of things to her youngest, spoiled grandchild. But perhaps now, it was time to put the cards on the table. Maybe just a little bit of twisting to make things all the more smooth would put things back on track.

"Elizabeth," she said in her most contrite voice. "There's something you never got to hear when they read your Mama's will. I had it stricken from the meeting because I didn't want you to be hurt." Madame Hillcrest placed her aged hand on her granddaughter's shoulder. "There was a house and a small income that she kept from you. It was in her will that it be passed down to Anne."

Elizabeth turned in her chair, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. "I don't understand."

"If your mother had not kept the house and income from you, things would have been so very different for you. You would have not been reduced to such devastating circumstances..."

"Why would she keep that house from me?"

The aged woman inwardly smiled. Victory! "Because she was saving it for her favorite daughter Anastasia."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "So...what happened with this house now?"

"Your mother left a cryptic message in her will. It was something about a box. I have a feeling it's some sort of deed or property transfer."

"A what or a what?"

The elderly matron never expected Elizabeth to be as dumb as she looked, but there were times when that expectation was tested. "She left the house to your sister. She kept from you the one chance to have been brought up in a normal life, and instead thrust you into a life of poverty and destitution."

"But...that was in the past. Things are different now. I'm rich beyond my wildest imagination. Anne is barely surviving in that Opera House."

A grim look passed over her face and Madame Hillcrest looked down at Elizabeth. She turned and made her way towards the door. Before closing the door behind her, she turned back and looked at her granddaughter. "Because Anne is far happier than you'll ever be."

It had been the truth. She had spoken the truth and Elizabeth had hated her for it. Those words spoken just a few months ago had sparked a deep and bitter resentment towards Anne and now Elizabeth was going to do everything in her power to destroy her. The terrible life she'd had, always being subject to the rude comments of the Wethertington girls had been the worst experience of her life. They'd looked down on her and constantly subjected her to their torment.

Elizabeth stood in front of her floor length mirror and admired her reflection. She was proud of beginning the latest trend in fashion and was glad she'd convinced Manchester of permanently moving his business to Paris. Well, the shipping business mainly lied on the coast of France, but residing in Paris afforded them with the means to keep everything under close moderation. Well, that was at least Manchester said. Honestly, Elizabeth could never keep business straight, but she did know that she was rich and was always invited out to the best fashionable parties.

"The Wetherington girls could never fair so well as I," she said to her reflection, a sneer on her lips. She turned, her blue dress caressing the floor as she walked out of her room down to the dining room where Manchester would be waiting. As always, Elizabeth marveled at the beautiful flooring, dark wood walls, and the ever present sign of her wealth. It was a welcome sight that would bring a smile to her lips and a prideful thought or two into her mind.

Being in this such happy state, she was surprised and confused to find that her husband was pacing back and forth across the dining room. He was furiously smoking his cigarette and running his other hand through his hair. She frowned, immediately disliking the tousled appearance, as she had often told him so.

She stood patiently at the door, however, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"Come in, dearest," he said, five minutes after she'd appeared. He threw the remnants of his cigarette into the fire and attempted to quell his tormented feelings. "I'm sorry for appearing so distracted. I just got a piece of correspondence today that has me a little out of sorts." He stepped forward and held out a chair for her to take, which she thankfully did with no issues. Usually, when something didn't go her way, she was quick to let him know.

"That's alright, darling. Perhaps I should just take dinner alone so that you can focus on more important matters than your wife."

Manchester instantly took the cue from his wife that she was letting him know she was in trouble...again. "I think I can put my business away now," he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Anything to appease her and to keep the battle at bay. With the finances in a mysterious upheaval, an argument with her was not something he wanted to deal with at the moment.

"The Christmas party will be next week, won't it, darling?"

Elizabeth instantly relaxed and Manchester was able to let his mind float to other topics...particularly the missive that was still lying open on the desk in his study. He was unable to fathom how his loans had been called in and things were not adding up. He'd been very carefully with his money and with his investments and somehow...they were losing everything! Manchester had no idea how he was going to break this news to his wife, who loved money like it was her own blood.

"...and of course I'll be inviting dearest Christine and her husband."

"You'll invite your sister, won't you?"

Elizabeth instantly stiffened and he regretted asking such a question. "No, I will not. She said such horrid things to Christine upon our last visit to the Populaire though I have no idea what the intent was. It seemed that only they knew what they were talking about which is entirely uncomfortable and rude."

He took a deep breath knowing that he had to break the news to her and this was probably a good a chance as any. "You should probably be showing ever kindness to her considering we may end up like her very soon."

The soup spoon stopped on the journey to Elizabeth's lips. She turned and looked at him. "What did you say?"

"For some reason, they money invested in shipping is gone."

"What do you mean...gone?!" Elizabeth's voice was deadly soft which he knew was the sign that a great storm was coming.

"I got a missive today saying that my loans at the bank have been called in. There's almost nothing left."

Elizabeth placed her spoon on her table and dabbed the napkin at her lips. "Manchester, dear, you better find what's going on with our money." She stood up and made her way out of the dining room and into the hallway. Manchester couldn't believe how silent she'd been during that entire conversation, but Elizabeth was far from calm. Upon reaching the hallway she sent a letter to Grandmother. Something was amiss, and she knew her family matriarch would know exactly what was going on.