Chapter 103
Little was said over the remainder of our meal once the night didn't go as expected. After the plates were cleared, Claude said he was due for work at six in the morning and I walked him to the front door with Bessie at my heels while Julia escorted our children off to bed.
"She is due for her evening walk," I said, nodding at Bessie, who danced around in anticipation of our usual stroll.
Claude preferred a weak smile over conversation, and we stepped out of the house and onto the cobblestones in silence. We were nearly to the corner when he finally spoke.
"He is not interested in assisting with Apolline, is he?"
I inhaled and stared straight ahead, following Claude's unreadable gaze. Many of the lamps were not yet lit, making the streets exceptionally dark given the time of night. "I've been assured that the comte has not yet come to a conclusion on the matter."
"She is not coming to live with me," Claude said under his breath.
"She will."
"No." Claude shook his head. "I realized moments after we sat for supper that I am not capable of caring for her, at least not in the way she deserves."
"Then you wish to leave her at The Elise?"
Claude's pace slowed. "No, I don't wish to leave her there, but...but I don't know what is best. I am afraid I don't know anything at all."
"There is no need to decide this minute."
Claude paused before a shop window and stared inside at that shadowy interior. It was Bloom's, I realized, the store that supplied my paper and ink and where Claude purchased his paints and canvases.
"The show at the Rodez," Claude said without looking at me. "You asked me if Monsieur Kimmer would be attending the gallery show, but then you were upset when I had placed you on the guest list to meet with him."
I stared at him, but he didn't meet my eye. "I was taken aback by your unexpected offer," I attempted to explain.
"All of this time and you never mentioned he is your brother."
"I suppose I have neglected to say as much."
"Why?" Claude pressed as he swung away from me and continued to walk at a much more brisk pace. "Why would you not tell me Phelan Kimmer is your brother?"
"I suppose at the time I didn't think it was relevant."
Claude looked briefly at me as though my answer didn't suffice his questioning. "I suppose that is not what it seemed like to me."
Bessie stopped to smell a patch of grass, which she sniffed for a longer moment than necessary before deciding it didn't need her scent, and by the time she finished her examination, Claude was quite a distance ahead of us.
"Claude," I called out.
His pace slowed, but he didn't look back. Even when I finally caught up to him, he didn't look in my direction.
"You are upset," I observed.
Claude grunted, but didn't disagree.
"You are upset with me?"
"It's late and I am only able to sleep for a handful of hours before I go into the factory for a twenty hour shift," he answered, rubbing his eyes. "I simply wish to return home and rest while I may."
I nodded. "In the meantime, I will continue to seek a solution for Apolline."
Claude bowed his head. "Monsieur Kire, I would prefer if you allowed me to handle this."
My expression faltered and I blinked at him, unsure of what to say or how to react appropriately to his request. Jaw clenched, I swallowed and forced myself to nod. "May I ask why you are no longer interested in my assistance?"
Claude took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak, then apparently reconsidered his words and frowned. Immediately my throat went dry and I felt my stomach tighten, sensing something was indeed amiss. He was upset and he was upset with me, but as far as I was aware, I'd done nothing to warrant his discountenance.
"Monsieur," he said at last, his voice shaking.
I dreaded what he would say. My heart beat so rapidly that the rush of blood threatened to drown out all sound.
"Speak," I ordered.
"You have been so generous, far more charitable than I deserve," Claude continued. "But after this evening, I realize that I do not really know you." He paused and looked up at me with a bewildered expression.
I held my breath, dreading what he would see when he met my eye. A ghost, I thought, a treacherous creature that had once terrorized Paris. He would look me in the eye and see the beast I had once been, the creature I had desperately tried to leave behind. I swiftly lowered my gaze.
"When I offered to deliver the painting to your home, you gave me a false address," Claude said, keeping his voice low. "Along with not mentioning that Monsieur Kimmer is your brother, I feel as though…" He met my eye again and swallowed. "I feel as though I have burdened a stranger with the inconveniences of my personal situations and perhaps inadvertently burned bridges in your social life."
"You have done no such thing."
Claude pursed his lips. "We could hear the heated exchange of words from the dining room," he murmured. "Not the conversation itself, but the anger. That is my doing and I apologize for ruining the evening or jeopardizing your friendship with the comte. I should have returned home well before he arrived. It would have saved us both the trouble."
"Claude-"
"Please, Monsieur, I mean no offense and I don't wish to argue with you." He took a step away from me and stifled another yawn as he looked down the street. "I will handle this."
"You have my word and utmost respect."
Further up ahead, two men made their way down the street on opposite sides illuminating the gas lamps with their long poles and flickering wicks. From where we stood, it looked as though a line of fireflies hovered above the city in a long procession.
The night was humid, the air oppressive and stagnant and I felt perspiration drip down the masked side of my face where it pooled at my jawline. The physical discomfort, however, was nothing compared to the tightening knot in my stomach.
"It's late," Claude said as if pleading for an excuse to return home.
"I would prefer if we spoke of this matter at another time," I said evenly. "When we are both of a clearer mindset."
"Of course." Claude awkwardly turned away from me.
"You are welcome to join us for supper the next evening you are available," I offered, making one last attempt at amending the situation.
Claude offered a nod and wan smile, but didn't verbally accept. He rounded the corner onto his lightless street and I gripped Bessie's leash tighter in my right hand.
"Good night," I said.
He turned and waved, but again said nothing.
I watched him briefly before I turned away, overcome by the sullen realization that Claude Gillis would not be paying a visit to my home soon, if ever again.
oOo
Once Claude disappeared from my sight, I fully intended to indulge my misery and silently berate myself for the duration of the walk home.
Bessie, however, had different plans. Rather than allowing me to steep myself in self depreciation, she grabbed the middle of the leash and pulled it out of my hand where she proceeded to growl and shake the length of leather as if she were taking down a great beast.
"Have you gone mad?" I grumbled half-heartedly.
She responded by playfully dashing out of my reach, leaping as high as her stout legs would allow as she bounded around me in a wide circle before tangling herself in her leash and toppling over her long ears.
Still, she remained undeterred with her antics and gathered up her leash before proceeding to prance about with her head held high and tail wagging furiously behind her.
"You are the greatest friend I could wish for," I said as she returned to my side and dropped her slobbery leash. "Aside from this abhorrent gift," I said under my breath as I unclipped her leash and folded it so that I didn't need to touch the part covered in drool and dirt.
With her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth, she could have not appeared more pleased with herself.
"I trust you will walk like a proper lady for the remainder of the evening?"
She shifted her weight, dancing about in what I hoped was agreement.
"Good," I started to say, but the church bells several streets over began to chime and my heart stuttered as I realized it was now ten. "Le Blanc," I said under my breath. "Damn it."
I imagined the courier was at my doorstep, awaiting a reply to the theater manager I had not bothered to write. I glanced at Bessie, then down the street in the direction of the theater, which was practically halfway across the city.
Le Blanc would either be furious or disappointed that I had not replied, most likely both. I wondered if he would cancel the performances all together or perhaps relieve me of the duty of serving as conductor and instead placing Adrian Agard at the helm. It was as much as I deserved being ignorant to his messages and arrogant in my lack of response to his frequent attempts at contacting me.
"Come," I ordered. Bessie fell into step beside me.
The section of Paris Claude resided in was mostly vacant, the majority of activity taking place within seedy taverns and the brothels that were housed either above the public houses or beside them. We passed a man in an alley urinating and a woman in a doorway smoking.
In my youth, Madeline had cautioned me against wandering into this part of the city, fearing I would be both robbed and murdered. The first two years in the Opera House, I had nodded at her warnings, wide-eyed and fearful of being both robbed and then murdered, neither of which seemed pleasant.
Eventually I became more bold and defiant. The rumors of an opera ghost became more prevalent, and while I was not yet deviant in my actions, the stories became more sinister. A woman disappeared one night after a performance, and the theater employees whispered in the shadows that she had been whisked away by the ghost to serve his primal urges before he slit her throat.
I had been horrified by the news as I was the Opera Ghost and the worst I had done was juvenile pranks; switching season tickets in the files so that the patrons huffed and stamped their feet when they were seated in the rafters instead of the orchestra section or moving props from their places to watch the actors frantically search for them.
I was not a murderer or molester of innocent ladies. I was an avid theater goer who enjoyed sweets I gathered from the kitchen and late evenings spent writing my own music.
But if the world thought I was lecherous, then I felt there was no harm in walking amongst the filth of the city on the deplorable side of France.
The music was louder and more bawdy and the women more scantily clad and heavily perfumed, but I had only come across trouble a time or two in all of the years I had passed through this part of the city. I had not once been pickpocketed by ruffians and most certainly never in danger of being murdered by scoundrels, but still I made certain to tell Madeline I roamed through the manicured parks late at night or stayed in nicer sections south of the Opera House.
In the back of my mind I could hear Madeline dramatically lecturing me for passing through the worn down streets.
"What on earth are you doing out here?" I could hear her say. "Erik!"
I lifted my head and blinked, realizing that the voice was not in my head but directly in front of me.
"Madeline?" I obtusely responded.
"Madame!" a gentleman's drunkenly blissful voice shouted. "You have spoken him into existence!"
Madeline looked from me to Antonio Le Blanc, who was grinning like a mad fool. He held his arms out and looked simply delighted to see me.
"What a wonderful night, Monsieur! You have come to deliver your message in person. In person! And you've brought your dog. He is very handsome."
"She," I corrected.
Bessie didn't seem to care if she had been misidentified as a male dog. She sat herself in front of Antonio and gazed up at him with her tail wagging as if he were the first person who had ever doted upon her.
"May I offer you a drink, Monsieur?" Adrian Agard questioned as he popped out from the tavern they had apparently been in for quite some time. "I insist that you join us for the rest of the night, but I must warn you, Madeline is….she's...Antonio, what did we say earlier?"
Le Blanc snorted with laughter. "I will tell you when I remember, my dear friend."
Adrian burst into laughter and slapped his hands on his thighs. "What would you like to drink, Monsieur?"
"I'm afraid I must decline," I replied.
Madeline placed her hand on my arm and smiled. Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks crimson, but she had her wits about her more so than the other two.
"Gentlemen, if you would allow me a moment to speak in private with Monsieur Kire," she requested.
The other two men crossed the street, arms slung over each other's shoulders as they continued to laugh at nothing in particular before they burst into song.
"I feel you owe me an explanation," I said as I crossed my arms and looked her over.
Madeline narrowed her eyes. "I beg your pardon?"
"Do you frequent this neighborhood?"
Her eyes then widened and she swatted at me in a less than playful manner. "I certainly do not." She stepped closer to me and stood on the tips of her toes. "Did you reply to Le Blanc's note?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
I inhaled and shook my head, briefly eyeing the theater manager and conductor on the opposite side of the street where the two of them continued to laugh and slap each other on the back. "I have not, however, I don't believe he will remember come morning that he awaited my reply."
"He will," Madeline assured me.
"Is that why you are here?" I asked.
Madeline gave me a pointed look and crossed her arms. "We were meeting for a different reason that had nothing to do with you." Her eyes cut from me to the tavern door and I followed her gaze to where Raoul de Chagny stood. The comte stared back at me, but made no attempt at a friendly gesture.
"Three times in one day," I said under my breath. "I have exceeded my quota for misfortune in seeing the comte." I turned back to Madeline. "Truly, Madame, you have captivated my curiosity. Le Blanc, Agard, and de Chagny in one place? You must be up to something quite notable."
Madeline gave a heavy sigh. "We will speak of this tomorrow in private."
"Until then I shall remain most suspicious of your conversation."
"You were not the topic, if that is your concern."
"Should I be flattered or disappointed?"
Madeline glared at me. "What are you doing out here so far from home?"
"Walking."
"Enjoy your walk." She looked me up and down briefly before turning away and marching across the street, leaving me to gape from where I stood. From the corner of my eye I saw Raoul pull something from his overcoat pocket. When I looked fully at him, he glanced briefly at the paper in his hand, then back at me before he turned his attention back to Madeline, Adrian and Antonio. He was nearly to the street when he paused and changed direction, heading toward me.
"Lovely," I said under my breath.
Judging by his heavy sigh, I assumed we shared the same sentiment. "I received a telegram this evening," he said.
I stared at him, unsure of whether he wished me to congratulate him on such a commendable feat.
"From my daughters," he clarified, his tone grim.
I immediately sobered, my irritation replaced by concern from one father to another. "Is someone ill?" I inquired.
He pulled the paper from his overcoat pocket and held it up for me to read.
WE LOVE YOU.
I & D
"When I am absent for longer than seven days, I send them a telegram and they respond," Raoul explained. He looked over the telegram and smiled to himself. "We have done this for a year, possibly longer, and not once have I ever considered what would happen to the girls if I didn't return home. Until tonight, that is."
Carefully he placed the paper back into his pocket and straightened his coat. "The girls would remain in our home," he said. "The home that they are accustomed to in the beds they have always slept in with a routine I hope would stay the same. They would grow up without me or their mother, but they would at least have one another. Or at least that is what I would hope, but I don't believe it's in writing. When I return home, I want to make certain it is understood by my estate that Isabella and Domini are not to be separated in the event-God forbid-they are orphaned."
I glanced at Madeline, who was deep in conversation with the maestro. As soon as Alex had arrived on my doorstep, it was made clear that my son was to remain with Meg and Madeline in the event I perished. There were funds set aside for his future comfort and compensation for his caretakers so that the three of them would never concern themselves over finances and his caretakers could focus on his education and upbringing.
Ironically I had thought for certain my demise would come at the hands of the man whose assistance I had sought.
Raoul took a deep breath and exhaled. "I do not particularly care for the surroundings where Claude resides," he added. "But all evening long I have thought endlessly of what it would be like if my oldest daughter remained in our home and her sister was sent halfway across the country to a place like The Elise. It would be devastating to both of them if they were separated."
I nodded. "A fate no siblings should endure," I agreed.
He shifted his weight and looked across the street, avoiding my gaze. "I am due home in three days. As much as I would prefer arriving midday, I will be satisfied with returning by supper. This would allow me several hours to inspect the grounds and speak to the headmistress about my concerns, if any."
"And what of Apolline Gillis?"
Raoul met my eye, his expression cold and formal. "She could travel via rail as long as her brother is able to receive her at the station."
"Of course."
"If there is a need for removal," he reminded me.
"At your discretion, comte."
"I will have a telegram sent to your residence when I have more information. Does that suit you?"
"Your offer is more than generous."
He looked away from me. "Then it is settled. I will send word in three days. You will communicate this information to Claude Gillis, I assume?"
"At my earliest convenience," I answered.
Raoul offered a curt nod. "Then there is nothing left to discuss. Good night, Monsieur Kire."
He had already taken several steps away from me when I called his name. Reluctantly he turned and stared wordlessly at me, his expression clearly annoyed that I requested another moment of his precious time.
"Will you be returning to Paris again soon?" I asked.
"I am here frequently on business. Might I have the pleasure of doing you another favor?" he dryly asked.
I stood straighter, my jaw working in silence for a brief moment. We were by no means friends, but our recent encounters had remained polite despite the past that had caused our paths to cross. However, it seemed as though his charitable disposition had finally run out.
"Perhaps the next time you are visiting with your daughters they could spend the afternoon with Alex and Lisette," I suggested.
"Perhaps so," he replied, his eyes distant and void of emotion. Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched toward the waiting carriage.
"To hell with you then," I said under my breath.
