Been a bit since Erik's least favorite aristocrat was in the story :)

Chapter 100

By either good fortune or terrible luck, Raoul de Chagny happened to be in Paris to receive my message asking to meet at his earliest convenience.

"What are you going to do?" Julia asked once Claude had returned home and I explained to my wife the situation regarding Apolline and The Elise Home for Girls.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. "Bring her to Paris," I answered. "And if you are considering asking how, at this time, I have considered traveling to the girls' home and demanding they give her to her brother. Of course that would be if my meeting with the comte proves worthless, which considering who I am asking, I can only assume it is a tremendous waste of my time."

I had no intention of paying their exorbitant fee for Apolline's release given Claude's description of the home. If I had any say in the matter, they would lose all of their funding and be under new ownership before the end of the week.

Julia gave a heavy sigh. "It was kind of Raoul to agree on such short notice," my wife reminded me.

"One of his many endearing qualities," I muttered as I opened my eyes and rifled through a new stack of letters and notes from the courier.

Julia shook her head. "I wonder if he likes strawberry jam. Perhaps I will prepare a jar for our guest?"

At last I conceded. "I will be civil."

"Are you meeting with Antonio tomorrow?" Julia asked, nodding toward the three newest notes from the theater manager, all of which were secured beneath my mask.

"Wednesday," I said. "He has the remainder of today and all of tomorrow to bore me with additional notes until our official meeting."

Julia couldn't help but smile as I grabbed the letter opener from its holder and pretended to stab the unopened messages before I opened all three and read through the contents. They could have all been combined into one succinct note, but Monsieur Le Blanc evidently sent notes on a whim, quite possibly for no other reason than to annoy me.

"Apparently we are meeting tomorrow to discuss the program layout and artwork for the cover and advertisements," I said as I tossed all of the messages into the rubbish bin. "Riveting discussion awaits," I added dryly.

"Well, Raoul should be here soon," Julia said as she stood and walked toward the parlor door.

"The highlight of my day," I said under my breath.

oOo

Raoul de Chagny arrived some thirty minutes after I originally expected him. He was greeted at the door by Meg and escorted into the parlor while I finished returning correspondence to my brother, who had written to me twice since we'd returned from holiday.

"Monsieur Kire," Raoul said politely, offering an aristocratic smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You look well. I hear you were on holiday."

I simply nodded in response.

Meg looked warily from him to me before she turned and immediately exited the parlor without a word. I doubted she could have exited the room faster if she had tried.

"You asked to see me?" Raoul queried as he took his seat in the nearest chair and made himself comfortable.

"I did. Concerning the Elise Home for Girls."

His eye narrowed ever so slightly, but he smiled again and nodded. "Ah, yes, a wonderful charity we have supported for many years." Raoul looked away and cleared his throat. When he met my eye again, he frowned. "It was very dear to us. I have continued my support as I believe my wife would have wanted."

As far as I was aware Christine had lived with father following her mother's death when she was still quite young, then moved into the Opera House with Madeline after her father succumbed to a long illness. If Christine had once been a ward of The Elise, it was not information I had been privy to over the years.

"I have only recently heard of the facility," I said. "I assume the home has been in operation for quite some time?"

His expression turned smug as he knew I was attempting to ask in a roundabout way if Christine had stayed there, even briefly. "Many years," he answered. "Are you considering becoming a donor?"

I sat back and crossed my arms. "I am not."

Raoul's brow furrowed. "I apologize, Monsieur, I am not entirely certain why you have asked me into your home today."

"Have you visited The Elise?" I asked.

"Of course. Twice a year, usually the first week in June and then again shortly before Christmas to deliver gifts to the children. Truthfully I wish my visits could be more frequent, but time does not always allow for what we desire."

"Then you are aware of their daily operations?"

Raoul pretended to take great interest in the view from the window. "I couldn't give you a full schedule of their routine, but the times I have visited in summer the girls are outside enjoying the fresh air for their health before they return indoors for lessons and prayers. In winter they partake in baking and sewing from a brightly lit hall off the dormitories. They really do run an extraordinary program. Infants are typically adopted before they reach one year of age and most of the older girls learn valuable skills to prepare them for life and marriage should they not join a family before the age of sixteen."

"Your visits are announced prior to your arrival?" I asked.

He turned his attention away from the window and looked suspiciously at me. "The headmistress likes to prepare for donors," he stated. "There is an official supper, the younger girls rehearse a dance routine, and some of the older girls who are gifted at singing and piano perform after the meal." He paused and sat forward. "May I inquire about your interest?"

I wanted to flatly tell him he could not, but instead I inhaled and considered an appropriate response that was not hinged on my disdain for the comte or distrust in the home and its donors.

"What do you think you would find if you were to make an unexpected stop at the home?"

Raoul's expression faltered. He shifted in his seat and furrowed his brow. "I would hope to find content children receiving an excellent education as they await loving families."

"Who is the teacher?"

Raoul shrugged. "I am not certain."

"But there is a teacher on the premises?"

He sat forward. "I am assuming you are familiar with the teacher employed by The Elise and have a grievance with him?" His eyes lit up. "Or you are hoping to obtain their teacher for your own children?"

"Neither," I said. "There is no better teacher for my children than the one I already employ."

"Then why the interest? And please, Monsieur, I have another appointment in forty-five minutes. If I am to answer your questions, I must insist that you ask them."

Raoul de Chagny had become quite bold since the last time our paths had crossed. I nodded once, appreciating his audacity.

"They do not currently employ a teacher," I stated.

"How would you-"

"Because I do."

Raoul inhaled and sat back, clearly frustrated with my tone. "Am I to take your word for it?"

"Of course not. You should see for yourself what transpires at The Elise when you are not expected."

He tapped his fingers against his thigh and rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "I sent an entire library worth of books two month ago," he said quietly. "A collection the headmistress said was put to great use by her eager students."

"You know the headmistress well, I gather?"

Raoul hesitated. "She helped arrange my wife's arrival at the theater when Gustave-Christine's father, I should say-passed away. I don't know her well, but Mademoiselle Roche kept in contact with Christine over the years, particularly the last five when we became prominent sponsors for the home. Every few months she sends a letter and it features one of the girls we have helped. There is sometimes a brief note of gratitude from one of the orphans."

"Would you remember the children by name?"

He frowned at my question, his cheeks reddening. "I...I was not typically the one to read or respond to the letters, I'm afraid. Our governess was the one who collected the letters."

I supposed I should have been prepared to be disappointed yet again by the boy I had despised for so many years, but I sighed in disgust.

"Is there someone in particular you are inquiring about?" Raoul asked.

"A girl by the name of Apolline Gillis."

To my dismay, Raoul shook his head. "I am not familiar with her."

"She has been residing at The Elise for six years now following the untimely death of her mother."

Raoul offered a sympathetic nod that came easy to him, a gesture I imagined he made quite often when in the company of those who ran organizations dedicated to the less fortunate. He played his part quite well, exhibiting the appropriate amount of emotion.

"It is difficult for one to fathom what these children endure with no family remaining."

"Not as difficult as one would imagine," I said coldly.

His face drained of color and he sat up straighter. "I apologize if I offended you with my statement." Wisely he pretended to pick lint off his trousers and averted his eyes. "I suppose I had never considered the details of your past."

I remained silent a moment longer and allowed him to squirm beneath my scrutinizing gaze. I assumed that given his frequent attendance of operas, Raoul had heard the rumors of my existence, tales that became more ludicrous with each passing year. I had my favorites, naturally, particularly the ones in which I had resided underground for centuries, aimlessly wandering the maze of tunnels and never aging thanks to the spring water that flowed beneath the theater.

The most prominent, however, was that I was the son of a whore who had abandoned me outside of the theater once she realized that she had birthed a terrible creature. I had not been close to my mother, but I still did not care for strangers labeling her as an unsavory, child-abandoning woman. I wondered which story he had chosen to believe.

"Were you young?" Raoul asked suddenly. "When you were…"

Relinquished at last, I bitterly thought to myself.

"What does it matter?" I snapped.

He met and held my gaze, his expression unreadable. "I still remember my parents discussing Gustave Daae's passing at supper one evening," he said, ignoring my tone. "And my first thought when they said I would not be able to pay visits to the Daae house for a while was that I was never going to be able to eat kladdkaka again. Sweets, Monsieur Kire, that was what devastated me the most. Not the loss of life, not how my friend who had lost her father must have been feeling, but my own selfishness.

Raoul looked past me. "And then two months later my own mother became gravely ill. Before the end of summer she succumbed to her ailments."

He would not receive sympathy from me, I told myself. His life had been one of privilege and acceptance from the moment he took his first breath. While the death of his mother was tragic, I assumed he had a governess to console him and plenty of comforts to distract him from his loss.

"My brother, sister and I, we weren't allowed to see our mother for the last three weeks of her life," Raoul continued, keeping his voice low. "At the time, I was envious of Christine being able to stay at her father's side during his long illness, but our father said it was for the best that we wait until mother's health improved. I supposed he knew she would not get better, but he didn't want our last memories of our mother to be of her wasting away in bed, unable to even lift her teacup to her lips."

He shook his head in dismay, his emotions raw, and I thought of what he had said to me on the night of my opera when the two of us had been locked outside in the alley: I exist as a title.

"At the time I was furious with my father, and I admit I did not forgive him for the remainder of his life, but now as an adult raising two daughters without their mother, I understand his predicament. Christine was eleven years of age when her father passed and witnessing his decline was no blessing. I was fourteen when my mother died. Not being able to be at her side was no less damaging and yet I was expected to hold my head high and pretend that nothing was the matter."

I remembered Isabella de Chagny's death being announced, the way in which the theater paid their respects to the young mother of three who adored the arts. I'd only seen her from a distance, but she had gone from a healthy and vibrant woman carrying her youngest child on her hip to a slight woman with a sallow complexion and thin, golden hair leaning on her eldest son for support to simply cross the lobby.

Despite her declining health, she attended performances regularly and always with her children at her side, all of whom she doted upon despite her illness.

And then one evening they were not present within their usual opera box and the rumors swelled throughout the theater until news of Isabella's death was confirmed. The rest of the de Chagny family's absence continued for half a year before Raoul's father marched back into the theater with his two sons and young daughter in tow, resuming their place in their private box as though nothing had happened.

"Fourteen was a difficult age to lose a loved one," Raoul said before he abruptly stopped speaking and met my eye.

"I was twelve when I was...on my own," I answered, my voice unexpectedly hoarse.

My parents had died when I was an adult, but I considered leaving Conforeit with my uncle a death of sorts, or at least the ending to a relationship that hadn't been good, but that I had mourned all the same. No matter what, they were still my parents, and despite all that had happened, I was not able to say aloud that I hated them. If anything, I hated that I was never able to make amends.

Raoul pursed his lips and offered a more sincere, sympathetic nod. "I am truly sorry for your loss. It is not something a child should have to survive at such an age."

I nodded and suppressed a shiver. Out of all the people in the world, Raoul was the last one I would have expected to express his condolences over my loss.

At last he cleared his throat and straightened his sleeves. "Perhaps I can be of assistance in finding a suitable home for this Apolline Giles so that she is not raised as an orphan," he offered.

"Gillis," I corrected. "And she is not quite an orphan. She has an older brother who would like to be reunited with her."

"That's wonderful. It's quite rare that family steps forward."

"Perhaps it has something to do with the amount of money The Elise requires?"

"As long as the girl is not an infant, the adoption should be quite affordable, saying there is any fee required at all for a sibling to take responsibility."

"Apolline has been in their care for the last six years and unfortunately, her brother does not have the fifty thousand francs the headmistress demands for the child's release into his custody."

Raoul narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon? He must have misheard. Surely The Elise would be more than happy to reunite siblings and without a single franc required."

I produced the brochure from where I had placed it inside of my desk drawer and handed it to Raoul. "The headmistress was kind enough to send this to her brother after he paid a visit several weeks back. The amount they have requested is circled at the top."

His frown deepened, and he shook his head, jaw clenched. "I will look into this matter when I return from Germany in September. This is certainly not the way the home should be conducting business."

"I would like to see Apolline released into her brother's care within the week."

Raoul stared at me. "I'm not certain I can persuade the people who oversee operations to send her off in a week's time."

I lifted a brow. "With all of your charm?" I asked dryly.

He took a breath. "I will…" His voice trailed away as he looked from me to the clock. "I will consult my calendar when I am settled for the evening and see if time allows me to make a special, unannounced visit to The Elise before the end of the week. That is the best I am able to offer."

"Your involvement is much appreciated," I said.

"I suppose it is somewhat flippant of me to say that we have had our differences, but I am glad you have brought this matter to my attention. I have no tolerance for misappropriation of funds." He once again looked at the brochure and exhaled in disgust. "If it would be possible to speak to the child's brother, I would appreciate additional information."

"He is coming to supper tonight at eight if your schedule allows for a second visit."

Raoul eyed the clock again. "I will make every effort to meet with this…what is his name?"

"Claude Gillis."

Raoul nodded. "Claude Gillis," he echoed. "What is his occupation?"

"Artist."

"I can't say I've heard of him."

"That is truly a shame."

At last Raoul stood and shook my hand. "It was a pleasure speaking with you today," he said, his posture stiff once we stood eye-to-eye.

I nodded once, scarcely able to believe I occupied the same space as the comte and had remained civil for the duration of his visit.

"Your daughter," I said before we stepped into the hall. "Isabella, she is named for your mother?"

Raoul could not mask the surprise in his gaze. He stared fully at me, processing my words for a long moment before at last he answered. "Both of my girls, actually. Isabella Dominica Roben de Chagny was my mother's full name." He cleared his throat and took a small step back, shifting his weight in the process. "Forgive me, I had no idea you were familiar with my parents. I would have thought...I'm not entirely sure what I thought."

He thought the rumors were true. Perhaps not until that moment had he considered me not much different from himself.

"Familiar in name only. We were never introduced as far as I can recall."

He gave a slow nod in return, and I wondered where our paths would have led if I had been more familiar with his parents and the rest of the people who lived and worked within the theater.

"Who was the first soprano you recall hearing sing?" he asked.

"Cathedra di Carlo," I answered without a second thought. She had died from a brain tumor less than a year after I had come to call the theater my home. I had spoken to her on several occasions and considered her a friend-if speaking to someone out of sight for months could be considered friendship.

Raoul gave another slow nod that ended with him offering a genuine smile once we reached the front door. I wondered if his thoughts were similar to mine, if perhaps he considered what would have happened if we had encountered one another in the theater as two individuals who appreciated the arts instead of enemies competing for the affection of a woman.

"She was captivating," he said.

"On and off the stage," I added.

"If I am not able to return this evening, please give my best to Julia, Alex and Lisette. I would still very much like Isabella and Domini to spend time with Alex if you and your wife agree," he said.

"A discussion for after supper."

Raoul eagerly nodded and said his farewell before he made his way down the steps and crossed the street where he quickly rounded the corner and disappeared from my sight.

"Raoul de Chagny," I said under my breath once I shut the door. "Of all people."