Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage
©2006 Black Rose Collection
By: Melissa Smith and Roxanne Walker
-----
The characters of Erik, Christine, Jules, Reyer and any other Phantom related character are under the respective copyrights or Webber, Kay, or Leroux. All other characters are original to the authors of this story and should not be used without permission, INCLUDING the surname Renault.
-----
Chapter One:
The Époque
Headline in The Époque:
De Chagny’s
To Return To
The clank of the coins hitting the newspaper boy’s meager cup was enough to bring Erik out of his haze. He re-read the headline again, walking away from the stand and keeping his hood pulled tightly over his head, bracing against the cold, snowy morning.
It has been just over a year. One long, agonizing year since the Opera house fire that burned all he had. One long, agonizing year since he made the fateful decision to let Christine return to the safety of her boy, Raoul de Chagny.
He could hardly contain his curiosity as he sat in the carriage that would take him to his home in Le Vezinet, just outside the hustle and bustle of the busy Parisian streets. He finally opened the paper and read the rest of the story.
Vicomte and Vicomtess
Raoul and Christine de Chagny are expected to arrive within the next week in
preparations for the grand opening of the newly restored
Her voice is not
ready…. Erik grimaced at the very
notion, but continued to read.
The Opera house, whose
upper rooms, stage and rooftop were almost completely destroyed by the infamous
fire just over a year go, is expected to be full to capacity when the doors
open officially the first of May. The
Opera house owners, Monsieurs Richard Firmin and Gil
Andre are quoted as saying that they are, “most excited to see the Opera house
back to its full glory and splendor.”
He dropped the paper into his lap in disgust as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of his home. His driver, Jacques, opened the door for him and waited for Erik to exit. Erik nodded to him and he drove the carriage off to the eastern side of the estate.
A rather vast estate, it was found by his associate Jules Bernard within a mere few days after his escape from the Opera house. It took more than half of his money to buy and restore it, but as he stood to admire it, walking up the cobblestone path to the front entrance, he knew it was worth it.
After moving in and being rather disgusted with half his money now spent, he looked for a way to make a new profit. With his twenty thousand francs a month salary gone, he decided to bleed the Opera house dry another way, by becoming an investor. Jules did the legwork, and under the name Charles Renault, his father’s name, he became a principal investor. It has paid off. Even while the renovations were going on, the opera house turned a hefty profit, opening it up for tours of the damage, especially the cellars.
His cellars.
They were all but destroyed in the fire, yet a rather crafty Madame Giry, under instructions from Erik, suggested that curiosity seekers might pay money to view the former home of the now infamous Opera Ghost.
It worked beautifully.
Word of mouth grew and more and more flocked for guided tours below the five cellars. Money began to return and with it, the satisfaction that he had fooled them yet again.
But, for all that, he was still empty. He had a large home, eight rooms, a full library, a music room with a large, black lacquered piano. He had servants, loyal servants, yet he did not have the one thing he desired. He did not have Christine, his Christine.
She had left
He tucked the paper under his arm as he entered the foyer and went straight for the library. Throwing the paper on the desk, he removed his hood and cape, throwing them on the leather chaise before sitting down at his desk. In front of him on the large, ornate wood desk sat a stack of papers pertaining to the financial operations of the opera house. The latest was on top, thanks to Monsieur Bernard, who had them on his desk just after sunrise that morning. He picked it up in his hands and began to examine it when a knock came to his library door.
“Enter.” He spoke softly in reply.
The door opened and Erik did not have to look up to see who it was, it was his head maid, Emma. She paused at the entrance and waited for him to address her.
“Yes, Emma?” he still did not look up from the papers.
“Monsieur…. Messieurs Bernard and Mancia are here to see you.”
It was only then he looked up and grimaced.
Monsieur Eduardo
Mancia……
How that man irritated him so. A fellow investor, in fact, the only investor that knew of his true identity, his expertise and advice had been invaluable over the past several months as Erik slowly acquired more and more shares of the Opera House.
Other than that, Erik had no use for Eduardo Mancia. He was boorish, uncivilized, rather portly and was constantly either eating or drinking, leaving disgusting stains on his shirt, and food crumbs in his long, unkempt beard. Just the very sight of him made Erik blanch.
Sighing, Erik knew he had to let him in, but fully intended on raking Jules Bernard over the coals for such a breach of unspoken etiquette….he knew that Erik did not like Monsieur Mancia visiting his home more than it was absolutely necessary.
“Let them in.” he spoke to Emma and immediately noted the look of disgust on her soft features. He scowled slightly, “What is wrong?”
“Umm…Master Erik, Monsieur….” She started, looking back into the foyer towards Monsieurs Bernard and Mancia. A strong willed woman of fifty, it was not in her nature to be so apprehensive.
He waved for her to come inside the door, which she did, shutting it behind her.
“Now, tell
“Monsieur, you know how I feel about that….Monsieur Mancia….”
“Yes, I do, Emma.”
“He is…well, he has taken to physical advances toward Lacie.” She said softly, but firmly, not hiding her displeasure as she gestured toward the closed door.
“Lacie?” Erik scowled.
“You know, Monsieur….she is such a young girl, barely twenty-one, naïve and loyal and has not been here long. She did not know how to handle this….well, it was a good thing, Monsieur, that I happened upon him and pulled her away.”
“When did this happen?”
“Just a few moments ago, Monsieur.”
“And where was Monsieur Bernard?”
“He was at the carriage, settling the payment, Monsieur Mancia wandered off into the side garden where Lacie was cleaning the outside windows and….”
He held up his hand and said firmly, “Enough.”
She nodded in compliance.
“Where is Lacie now?”
“Cleaning the kitchen, I felt it best to keep her as far away from Monsieur Mancia as possible until his departure.”
“Very well. I wish to see Lacie later, but until then, inform her she has done no wrong and in the future, to always report anything of this nature to me immediately, or of course, to you. And never to be afraid of defying anything that Monsieur Mancia says or does towards her.”
“Yes of course, Monsieur.”
“Now, show them in.” He turned and walked back to his desk and sat down, tapping his fingers against the stack of papers, trying his best to determine how to handle what had just happened.
Emma nodded and in turning around, opened the door and gestured for the men to enter from the foyer.
Jules Bernard entered first with a soft nod to Emma, his face pale and apologetic, his mouth inaudibly speaking to Erik…..
Forgive me…
Erik returned the gesture with a shrug of disgust and motioned for Jules to sit down in the chair closest to the large window on the right side of the library that looked out onto the side garden.
“Well, well….Monsieur Renault!” the loud, rather snorting voice of Eduardo Mancia rang out as he entered the library, holding in his hand a large hunk of bread, half eaten as evident of the crumbs that lodged in his beard. “As always, your home has much lovely things to offer!” he grumbled as he popped Emma on the backside playfully. She gave a very noticeable frown, but said nothing as she exited.
“Monsieur Mancia, that will be quite enough!” Erik stood up and momentarily forgot his manners. “You were not brought to my home to accost my servants, nor to get your disgusting food droppings onto my fine Persian rugs!”
Monsieur Mancia stopped cold in his tracks, never being spoken to by Erik in that manner, the bread in his hands dropping to the floor with a soft thump.
Erik took a long, deep breath, glancing at Jules who seemed rather shocked, but amused at the sudden show of displeasure.
“Sit down, Monsieur Mancia and tell me what brings you here today.” He spoke more civilly as he sat back down at his desk, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.
Grumbling slightly at the loss of his bread, Monsieur Mancia stuffed himself into the chair closest to Erik’s desk and leaned back, resting his hands on his large belly.
“Monsieur Renault,” he began, then
cleared his throat free of dry bread, “I am sure you read in the Époque today
that the de Chagny’s are due to return to
Erik gestured to the paper that lay on his desk close to Mancia, “Yes, I am aware.”
“I have returned from the Opera House and from an impromptu investor meeting….” Then he began to chuckle, “The investors have been given special seats at the opening performance.”
Erik’s eyes widened. This was indeed unexpected, but he couldn’t quite understand why Monsieur Mancia found it amusing.
He turned to Jules.
“Monsieur Erik…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He leaned forward and handed it to him, “it’s an invitation and seat ticket for the opening addressed to Monsieur Charles Renault.”
Erik took the envelope and sat it down without looking at it. “It is rather simple gentlemen, I shall not attend. I am an investor by proxy. I am sure an excuse could be made.”
“Oh, I am afraid not, Monsieur Renault!” Monsieur Mancia replied loudly with a deep laugh, “I have already informed them that you will attend.”
“And why did you do such an ignorant thing without consulting me?” Erik spat out, leaning forward on his desk and resting on his elbows.
Mancia did not flinch, his voice smooth and self assured, “Surely, you understand how important it is for all the investors to be there. Many of them are looking forward to meeting you as you are the majority shareholder, thanks to my guidance….and word has gone out to the de Chagny’s themselves….they wish to know of the new and generous benefactor who came up with the wonderful idea to hold tours while the restoration was being completed.”
Erik leaned back against the chair, rubbing his chin as he again glanced at Jules, who could do nothing but shrug his shoulders in defeat.
“Was that all you wished to tell me?” he said to him coldly.
“Yes, all that comes to mind, Monsieur.” He answered almost happily.
“Then do not let me keep you, I assume you have a carriage outside?”
“I settled the bill and he awaits us.” Jules spoke up.
“Emma!” Erik called out and within a few seconds, she entered the room.
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Monsieur Bernard will remain with me. Please walk Monsieur Mancia to the door….and, if he behaves inappropriately, you have my permission to respond in any manner which you see fit.”
Mancia grimaced as Emma smiled and answered, “Yes, Monsieur.”
He then stood and nodded to Erik, “Until the opening then, Monsieur Renault.”
“Monsieur Mancia.”
Mancia turned on his heels and followed Emma out of the library, shutting the door hard.
Only when that happened did Erik finally lose his composure.
Chapter Two:
“That bloody disgusting piece of human filth!” he screamed, pounding his desk. “First he comes in here assaulting my servants, then he runs his mouth to Christine and her husband about me!”
“Monsieur Erik…they don’t know it’s you.”
“They will soon enough.” He sighed deeply, “Perhaps, there is a way to get out of this before the first of May…it is still two weeks away.”
Jules grimaced, “Uh…there is more.”
What?? What could be worse?
“Speak.”
“There is a cocktail party scheduled for Saturday evening, a welcoming for the de Chagny’s. The investors are also expected to attend. The invitation is in the envelope as well.”
That is three days
away….no….
“I cannot attend it, not such a small gathering. Seeing Christine again….”
“I know. But it is good business, you know that. You should go with someone…a nice lady. Perhaps one of your mistresses….”
He laughed to himself at the very notion. Bloody hell….none of my mistresses are nice
ladies….
“No…none of them would fit in with the type of gathering as this. I need….”
“You need a wife.”
Erik looked up, then laughed sarcastically, “Yes, a fine idea, go out and find me a wife, someone I can pass off as Madame Renault, someone who is not repulsed at this….” He gestured to his mask in disgust. “Like Christine was….like they all are.”
“Except your mistresses.”
“Only because they are paid….”
Jules stood then and approached the desk, “What is so wrong with finding a wife, I mean just a temporary one, for the sake of the de Chagny’s, and of the other investors? What a triumph it would be for you to walk in there, a lovely woman on your arm, declaring you are the majority shareholder of your own opera house, the one you built, the one they drove you out of!”
“I do not know….”
“It is only for two occasions, Monsieur, then you can remain private once more, if you so choose of course.”
Erik stood also, but not to argue.
“Very well. But, if I consider this notion, who do we find that would be willing to do this?”
“Leave that to me, I know of a couple of young women.”
“You do?”
Jules laughed again, “Yes, I knew you’d be willing to listen to reason, so I started looking around for potential single women.”
Erik shook his head, “Of course you did.
________________________________________________
Erik stood at the entrance to the kitchen, watching as Lacie was mopping the floor.
He observed her closely, admiringly.
No, she was not old enough, he thought to himself, not old enough to pass as his wife, although she certainly was beautiful enough. A poor, tragic child, she was found by Emma in the Parisian marketplace, having recently lost her father in a very sudden accident on their farm. With no money and no where to go, Emma brought her to Erik, who saw potential in her warm smile and big brown eyes. That was five weeks ago. Since then, she had worked for Erik like a champ, nothing stood unclean. If it did not move, she dusted it and a few things that did move… she also dusted. Everything was polished so bright, he could see his reflection. He was pleased and he smiled at her as she worked on her hands and knees scrubbing an already immaculate floor.
Clearing his throat, he spoke softly, “Lacie?”
She jumped like a skittish cat and flew to her feet, bowing, “Oh! Monsieur Erik!”
He laughed, “Hello, I am sorry to bother you while you are working…..”
“No bother, Monsieur. Would you like something to eat? I could make you anything you wished,” she began to nervously ramble, “although I daresay I do not see you eat hardly anything….that is not healthy, Monsieur, allow me to make you…..”
He shook his head and interrupted her, “No, I am fine, thank you. I wanted to see if you were alright, after what happened with Monsieur Mancia earlier.”
“Yes, I am fine, thank you.”
“Please tell me what happened, if you are comfortable of course.”
Again, Lacie laughed nervously, “I was cleaning the windows in the garden and Monsieur Mancia was suddenly there, behind my back….he tends to do that, or so I’ve been told by Emma…..and he was….touching me. I asked him to stop, that I was uncomfortable, but he was rather persistent.”
“Did you reprimand him in any way?” Erik asked, now leaning against the doorframe.
“Oh no, Monsieur! I did not think it to be my place.”
He smiled, “In the future, Lacie, you have my permission to do so, and report it to me immediately. I do not tolerate any inappropriate behavior among my employees, is that understood?”
“Yes, of course, Monsieur, and thank you.”
He nodded and with a flourish, turned on his heels and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Lacie with a bright smile.
That pleased him very much.
Late afternoon….
Jules Bernard stepped out of the carriage then turned and extended his hand. The young woman inside smiled, taking his hand and exiting the carriage as her eyes scanned over the large home before her.
Jules noticed, he noticed everything. He placed her hand over his arm while giving her a look of reassurance. “Don’t worry, this will only be temporary and it will be most profitable for you.”
She smiled at him and nodded, “Yes, I understand. It is just….well….I did not expect….”
“….the Opera Ghost to have such a luxurious home?” he finished for her as they reached the front door.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Jules knocked on the door, “His underground home was just as extraordinary, just hardly anyone was allowed to view it.”
Emma opened the door and she smiled at Jules, then to the young woman by his side. “Hello, Monsieur Bernard….come in.”
“Thank you.” He replied, allowing the young woman to enter first.
She stopped cold in the large foyer which extended upward, showing the corridors of the second and third floors.
“Emma, this is Mademoiselle Durand…Danielle.”
Then he turned to Danielle, “This is Emma, Monsieur Renault’s head maid, she’ll take very good care of you.” He smiled at Emma.
“Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle Durand.” Emma nodded to her.
Danielle replied softly, “Nice to meet you.”
“Umm….Durand, the dress makers?”
Her eyes lit up, “Yes, my father owns the shop; I’m one of the seamstresses there.”
“What brings you…?” Emma asked, but a look from Jules stopped her abruptly.
“Please, let Monsieur Renault know we are here.” He touched her hand gently as to let her know he was not being rude as he was simply changing the subject. Erik would tell his staff in his own time about Danielle, and in his own way.
He stood close to the door as Emma knocked, then slowly slipped inside, while Danielle took the time to wander around the foyer, admiring the many paintings and framed theatre regalia.
“How do you like it?” He asked her.
“Extraordinary, Monsieur Bernard, simply extraordinary…..” she mused, her mouth wide open as she looked up and down almost every inch of each wall. He could not help but chuckle slightly.
A few moments later, Emma came out of the library and gestured at Jules, "Go ahead, Monsieur Bernard, I shall bring in tea."
Jules then looked over at Danielle and told her, "Wait here..." as he opened the door to go inside.
Erik sat back as he watched Jules enter his library, trying to hide his slight annoyance. He liked Jules well enough, but was not expecting another visit so soon, and without prior notice at that. "Jules, good afternoon. What brings you here?"
Entering timidly, Jules gave a slight smile, holding up a folder in his hand. "The latest numbers from today's queue, I thought you might like to see them immediately, as I was on my way home from there...." His tone was low and almost quivering.
Erik folded his hands over his chest, his eyes trained on Jules' behavior. He knew his employee well enough to know that something else was on his mind. The numbers were not the only purpose of his visit, nor the main one. He furrowed his brows slightly before answering, "I trust they are satisfactory?"
"Yes, Monsieur, most impressive." He approached and placed the folder on the desk in front of Erik to examine. "Opening night is sold out, and the next three night after is also sold out."
Erik nodded, then opened the folder, glancing briefly at the numbers neatly written out on the first page. Impressive, indeed. "Thank you, Jules, is that all?”
Taking a deep breath, Jules summoned the courage to reveal the true nature of his visit.
"Monsieur...."
A long pause falls.
“Yes? What is wrong?” Erik sat back and folded his arms over his chest.
Again, Jules took a deep breath.
"Monsieur....I know it is sudden, only having discussed the matter of you taking a wife only a few short hours ago.....yet....." he stops and gestures toward the door of the library, pulled to the frame, but not totally shut.
Erik suddenly felt a creeping sense of apprehension, knowing immediately, by Jules' glance toward the door, that another visitor was there, waiting to be introduced. He curses silently. "Jules, what are you saying?"
"I am saying, Monsieur, that I have brought you a wife."
Chapter Three:
Erik's heart leapt in his chest. He looked up sharply at Jules, his hand gripping his fountain pen. "You have brought me a wife", he stated incredulously.
He nodded slowly, not sure how this new turn of events would settle with his employer, yet, he felt he had no other choice, if he had waited....given Erik the chance to think about it....he would have backed out.
"I know that I should have consulted with you first, but as I said earlier, I had already found a couple of prospects."
Erik let out a large intake of breath, then nodded slowly. "I suppose I do not have a choice, I cannot very well leave a lady out there, waiting indefinitely", Erik replied.
Of course he couldn’t, but why did he feel trapped like the proverbial mouse?
"Of course, allow me to bring her in and make the introductions..." he went to the door and opened it and with a wave of his hand, gestured for Danielle to come inside.
Erik immediately sat up straight, clearing his throat. His hands moved up to slick back his hair, then he smoothed the front of his black velvet jacket.
Yet, he could not ignore the knot that was forming in the pit of his stomach.
Danielle walked inside, not hiding the gasp that escaped her mouth at the site of the spacious library before her, but especially the man who she saw sitting at the end behind a large desk. He was everything she envisioned, yet nothing like she'd expected. Covering her mouth, she looked over at Jules, who by this time was having trouble containing his amusement at her awestruck nature.
"Come inside," he prompted. "Don't be nervous."
Taking her hand, Jules walked her close to Erik's desk and said, "Monsieur, this is Mademoiselle Danielle Durand."
Erik then stood up and, walking around his desk, stepped closer to the young lady before him. He took her hand in his, immediately noticing how delicate it was, yet the skin was slightly rough.
The hand of a worker.
He bowed his head, his eyes taking in her appearance. "Mademoiselle Durand, it is a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to my home. I am Erik Renault.”
Danielle was again awestruck by his height as he stood before her. Tall herself, taller than most women her age....or so her father had told her....she rarely encountered men who stood over her, until today.
She bowed slightly at the waist and replied, her voice trembling with nervousness as well as her typical shyness, "Thank you, Monsieur Renault."
Then her eyes darted downward, unable to look at him any longer.
Erik's apprehension slowly faded away as he watched the slight blush forming high on her cheeks. This lady was not used to meeting new people, especially not men. He found her shyness charming.
He glanced down at her peach colored gown, adorned with lace embroidery and silk ribbon. It was meticulous and clean, the material of good quality. Yet, she was not a woman of society, it was easy to see. He narrowed his eyes, completely leery, yet completely intrigued.
He cleared his throat again. "Please have a seat, Mademoiselle... and Jules". He gestured to the two seats in front of his desk.
He then walked back to his own chair.
Danielle glanced over at Jules, who gave her another reassuring smile, and with that, Danielle sat down in the chair, knowing they awaited her to do so. This pleased Jules.
At least she understands some social graces… He said to himself with relief.
Erik settled in his chair, crossing his long legs, resting his hands on his thighs. "Mademoiselle Durand, I trust that Monsieur Bernard explained the purpose of your visit this afternoon?"
"Yes, he did, albeit rather briefly, Monsieur."
Erik glances at Jules, then back at the shy lady sitting directly in front of him, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t. He noticed that she was beginning to relax slightly, though her demeanor was still shy and reserved. "Then you know that I am in need of... a wife," he hesitated. "If you agree, you will be well compensated for your efforts. I will require your service twice, and twice only. Do you have any questions?” He stared at her, waiting for her reaction. The blush was still there and he was sure she had not move an inch since she sat down.
Tons of questions came to mind, yet Danielle could only shake her head, remaining silent, feeling her cheeks blush even more as she kept her eyes on the mask. It was just too much to take in and she felt every bit the coward for not speaking up.
Would she know how to act in a social environment? Would she be too embarrassed to reply when spoken to? Perhaps it was too much for her; she seemed overwhelmed as it is.
Erik continued to regard her for several seconds, hoping that she would at least utter one word, but she simply remained there, blushing, silent.
And she was looking at his mask.
…studying it.
Jules looked back at Erik, then at Danielle. This was certainly not the talkative woman he'd encountered in the carriage ride over. She'd suddenly lost all of her nerve. Erik, in his commanding nature, had all but frightened her into a rabbit hole.
The long, agonizing pause that followed was soon broken by a knock on the door.
Slowly, the door opened and Emma peeked her head inside, "Monsieur, I have tea."
Erik inhaled, grateful for the interruption. "Thank you, Emma, please do come in".
She came in slowly, observing Danielle, who had turned to look at her with what Emma thought was the most lost look anyone could ever have.
What have they done to you, dear child? She asked herself as she sat down the tray of tea on the coffee table by the fireplace then began to pour hot water into the delicate porcelain cups. "Will there be anything else, Monsieur?"
"No, Emma, unless Mademoiselle would like something to eat?" Erik glanced at Danielle, willing her to answer his question.
Say anything…..
Danielle shoots a glance back to Erik.
Good god, woman, answer him......
"I am fine, thank you, Monsieur." Was all she could finally utter, and that in itself came out rather weak. She groaned inwardly.
Erik had seen all he cared to for now. "Emma, can you do something for me after all, please take Mademoiselle Durand to the garden and serve her tea on the veranda".
Emma turned to look back at Erik with a soft smile, "Of course, Monsieur." She went back to the coffee table and picked up Danielle's tea cup and placed it on the tray, along with the cream and sugar, then turned to Danielle, waiting.
She rose slowly with a slight scowl, confused, prompting Jules to touch her arm reassuringly, "It's alright; we shall join you out there shortly."
"I promise not to make you wait too long. In the meantime, enjoy the flowers and the tea", Erik added.
With a nod, she turned and walked out the library door with Emma following close behind.
Well, tea and flowers cannot be all bad....
_____________________________________________
“Where did you find her?” Erik asked, pacing around the room a few moments after Danielle had left.
“Her father owns the shop where my wife gets her dresses. I’d noted her on a few occasions in the past, a very lovely young woman, although a bit shy…”
Erik interrupted “…a bit…” but Jules continued, “She keeps to herself, my wife says, tends the shop during the day and takes care of her father and the home at night. She isn’t known for being terribly social, although she does have a few close friends. She’s very well kept as you can see, neatly dressed, very intelligent. We spoke of many things on our way here. I think you’ll be most impressed, once she warms up.”
He snorted and his lips curled, eyes narrowed. “Jules…I cannot do this.”
“Why? She’s perfect. With little or no social status, you can easily pull her off as your wife, she’s virtually unknown.”
“It is not right. I do not even know this woman and she is….”
“…plain?”
That was an understatement. “Plain? Bloody hell, the woman is almost non-existent. She is not the type of woman I like to entertain.”
“The women you like to entertain do not care about anything but their appearances; surely you don’t want to parade one of those women around an important social gathering like the one on Saturday.”
“No, I suppose I do not.”
“And, it is just for one night, that’s all.”
“Yes, I know. And you do make sense, my friend, as always.” Erik looked at him closely.
I have to show them
all, especially Christine……
Jules smiled as he headed for the door and grabbed the knob. “I shall leave her here for you to get to know. You can see to her way home later. Perhaps, invite her to share dinner with you this evening.”
“Wait, you cannot just leave us alone like….” Erik started but was answered by the shutting of the door.
He snorted again, louder.
Chapter Four:
Erik had stood at the window another few minutes after watching the carriage ride away before deciding to join Danielle on the veranda. He opened the door and watched her as she sat pensively on one of the wrought iron chairs, looking around at the spacious, blooming garden.
He could see she was wringing her hands.
She was as nervous as he was. It was unnerving, yet it was also comforting.
“Do you enjoy flowers?” he asked her, but made no move to come closer.
She turned slowly, her eyes looking him over much more studious than she had in his library. Yes, at first, the sight of a man in a mask was rather disconcerting to her, despite the warning of Jules Bernard. Yet, at second sight, she could now see his soft green eyes, his dark hair. He was neatly dressed, having removed his smoking jacket in favor of a dark brown, more formal one. He had a presence, standing there at the door to the veranda, a definite presence.
And did she just notice a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her?
“Yes,” she said back to him, “I love flowers; Father has a small box of them growing on our back stoop, pansies in the winter, daisies in the summer…we also have a rose vine, but that’s all. We don’t have a garden, nothing such as this, unfortunately.”
He was relieved to hear her speak finally, “You do not?” he decided to make a closer approach, and she didn’t appear to mind.
“No, we live above our dress shop in the city, it is small, but we make due.”
“I see.”
Her eyes looked back over Erik’s shoulder as she asked, “Where is Monsieur Bernard?”
“He has left. He thought it best for us to….get to know one another.”
“Yes of course.”
He sat down on the chair closest to her, which was still arm’s length away. He observed her closer now as well. She was not as plain as he had first observed. Her cheeks, while devoid of the usual rouge he was used to seeing, were full and rosy and therefore required no artificial embellishment. Her eyes….while blue, yes….were also speckled with flecks of brown and even a bit of green. Her skin was ivory, but he noted just a touch of freckles along her shoulders as well as on her cheeks just below her eyes. Her hair was not fiery red, but more of a softer strawberry blonde. It was sleek and smoothly pulled up, adorned with a lovely peach colored hairpin that sparkled in the sunlight.
No, she was not as plain…she was….rather lovely….
He cleared his throat to break the sudden silence that had befallen them.
“Umm….so Monsieur Bernard did not tell you give you many details of what I required?”
“Correct. I apologize for not expressing myself further earlier, but I was under the impression you did not wish to…..I mean, it appeared that you were rather put off….”
He shook his head sharply, “No, it was not that, it was just that I did not expect Monsieur Bernard to find someone….”
“…..so unattractive?” her eyes seemed to show a sudden disappointment and she looked down at her hands.
He was taken back by such a statement.
She cannot mean that….
“…so quickly.” He finished.
“Oh, I see.”
“Why would you believe you are unattractive?”
“I have a mirror, Monsieur, I know what I look like. I do not spend my nights alone because I wish it; it is because young men do not like plain old maids.”
He bit his lip to contain his laughter at the statement of old maid. He’d known a few maids, young and old and she was definitely not old. He shook his head again, “Surely, Mademoiselle, you cannot tell me you do not have suitors.”
“They do not line up at my door, Monsieur.”
“Then they are blind.” He replied quickly.
“But I know what I see in the mirror.”
“Mirrors lie, Mademoiselle. They only show the surface, not what lies in the heart. Believe me; it took me a long time to realize it myself.” He tapped his mask. “Do not listen to them.”
Danielle blushed profusely, embarrassed at how she was acting. There she was, in the presence of man who was disfigured to the point of wearing a mask, and she complained of her own sad situation. Nothing that has happened to her in the past few years could compare to a life of rejection and sadness that he must have lived. “Forgive me, I did not mean to insinuate anything.”
“I know you did not.” He gave her a slight smile and he could see her visibly relax once more.
“Why did you agree to come here?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I do not understand.”
“It is apparent you knew of me before you came, even before Monsieur Bernard told you about me. You did not flinch when you saw me. Why would you agree to pose as the wife of a man like myself?”
“Money, Monsieur.” She said, almost ashamed of herself, but it was nonetheless true.
“I see.”
“My father’s dress shop is barely making enough money to sustain us. They raised the rent on our building again and we do not see ourselves surviving much longer this way. We do good work, but there is only myself and Evelyne to sew in the shop, it takes time and women get impatient and go to larger shops with faster service. We are losing business. At least, with the money that Monsieur Bernard offered, it would pay a few months rent on the building…maybe then we could afford to hire another seamstress and speed up business.”
Erik nodded. It made good sense, good business sense.
“I apologize if that seemed….cold. I do not mean to be, but right now, this is all my father and I have. I figured playing a wife for two nights does not seem to be a large sacrifice.”
“It will not be, and I promise that you shall get the payment promised to you.”
“Thank you Monsieur. Umm….may I ask something else?”
“Go ahead.”
“Monsieur Bernard did not tell me why you required this charade. May I ask why you want a wife for such a short time?”
He let out a small chuckle. Ah, good ole Jules, leaving the hard stuff up to him.
“There is a woman from my past returning. I do not wish to give her the satisfaction of knowing I am still alone.”
“Vicomtess de Chagny.”
“So you do know the story.”
“Only what I read in the paper, rumors that fly around, you know how women can be in dress shops and beauty parlors, talk talk talk…” she laughed softly.
It was then that she seemed to relax even more. Erik noticed immediately.
“I see. And what did these ladies say about me?”
“That you loved her and she left you for the Vicomte. Then in a rage, you burned down the Opera House. They say you built it for her.”
“No, I did not, I built it before I met her, but yes, I burned it because of her. Does that bother you?”
“Yes, it does bother me, but it not my place to judge.”
Erik smiled, “You have an open and honest nature, I like appreciate, thank you.”
“My father says my mouth will get me into trouble someday. I argue that I do not gossip or spill secrets, I merely speak the truth when I can.”
“That is wise.”
Danielle smiled at him, a genuine smile for the first time since they'd met.
Erik’s eyes observed her intently. She had a lovely smile, and he found himself wanting to see it more often. "Then I guess we have come to an agreement. Of course, a dress will be provided for the evening. I will send someone to your house with a selection to choose from. If that is agreeable to you?"
Danielle scowled slightly, "Where will be going?"
Erik lifted his eyebrows. "You are to come with me to a cocktail given by Madame Dupré in honor of the upcoming inauguration. I see that Monsieur Bernard has not informed you of this all important fact", he smiled wryly.
She shook her head as she let out a breath, "Monsieur Bernard did not tell me where we would be seen, no. So naturally, I do have a couple of questions...." she stopped abruptly.
..."and a request."
Erik eyed her sharply, suddenly piqued with interest. Finally, she was going to speak her mind.
"Of course, Mademoiselle, go ahead". He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"You only said I was required to at your side, twice. Apparently, Madame Dupré’s party is one, what is the other?"
Erik took a deep breath. "Why, the inauguration itself, Mademoiselle", he stated quickly, then waited for her reaction.
"Oh, I see." she suddenly grew a bit nervous, not realizing she would be displayed in front of such a large crowd of people. Yet, while she was nervous, she was also curious as to what her role would actually be.
"Then I am to be on display."
Erik sat, pondering her statement for a few moments. It was not how he had envisioned her role, yet he knew she was not very far from the truth. "I suppose it is one way of looking at it, but I do not see you as an object, therefore I have no intention of having you on display. I merely wish to have a lovely woman on my arm, someone with whom I can hopefully have a conversation when the social niceties become too tedious for my own taste", he smiled at her, hoping that she would see the humor in his words.
A small laugh escaped her lips. "Unfortunately, I have not attended many social functions, so I do not know about the tediousness of social niceties, although, I do know of Madame Dupré, and she is tedious enough for several people." With that, she laughed again, but then stopped suddenly. Yes, she knew of Madame Dupré and her recollection was less than pleasant.
Erik's own laugh surprised even himself. He liked this intriguing young lady more and more by the minute. "Then you know enough. And I daresay you certainly seem to have a flair for picking up certain traits in people", Erik's smile broadened as he watched the twinkle in Danielle's eye.
The twinkle soon died down and she looked at her hands, "Sometimes, it is a curse." She shrugged her shoulders and changed the subject, "I suppose I should ask my second question...."
Erik's smile faded as he detected something in her eyes, a fleeting shadow, but one that did not escape his sharp sense of observation. He decided not to press the matter. For now.
"Of course", he replied softly.
"Will we be taking actual wedding vows?" she asked quickly.
Erik eyebrows shot up again. He had not expected that question, not at all. "It will not be necessary, Mademoiselle, as our agreement will end the moment we leave the inauguration gala. And you have to trust me; I shall not expect anything else from you".
It was his turn to feel to feel uneasy. It was not that he did not know how to act around women. After all, he entertained ladies in his home often now.
But Danielle was different.
She nodded slowly, knowing what he meant by ‘expecting anything else’. She was relieved. Not that she had not been in the company of men in the past, she was far from being a virgin...
...but that was another matter all together.
"I understand the arrangement and agree to it.”
Erik nodded. “And your request?”
Her voice was firm and decisive, “My request is simple, Monsieur....nothing to do with this arrangement is to be brought out around my home, that includes choosing gowns, for that, I will go to the dress makers’ myself, or here. And you shall not pick me up or be seen at my home."
Erik nodded slowly, his brows furrowed. "As you wish, of course... but may I inquire as to the purpose of your request? Perhaps there are things that I should know myself?"
"It is my Father, Monsieur....he....does not know of this arrangement. He would be very....." she stopped again and swallowed hard.
Spit it out, Danielle!
"He would not approve."
Erik pondered her statement for a moment. "Your father would not approve of our arrangement or... of me?” He braced himself for her answer.
Her eyes widened, not expecting the question. Suddenly, she began to speak without thinking, "Oh no, I can assure you it is not about you specifically, it is my father, he does not approve of any man since.....well.....I mean, I am so plain and rather hard to look at, at least that is what father says.....and if I was to tell him of this arrangement, he would not approve of me being used in such a way...."
She stammered, knowing she was only making it worse.
"I mean...." she finally stopped and she began to wring her hands.
She could almost hear her father’s words
now, “You silly little fool!”
Erik opened his mouth in disbelief. "Why in the world would he say such things about you? Hard to look at? By the gods, this is certainly not how I would choose to describe you, Danielle". Erik stopped abruptly. It was the first time he called her by her first name.
He had not expected this. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. Forgive my outburst, but I cannot fathom that anyone would say you are... hard to look at". Surely, she was not powdered and she did not wear rouge on her cheeks like all the girls these days, but frankly, she did not need any artifice. Her skin was radiant and her eyes bright, and her smile, when she chose to give one, was lovely and genuine.
She looked up into his eyes, noting their sincerity, yet she had never heard such kind words.
"I suppose if we are to be man and wife," she chuckled softly, changing the subject, "then we should address ourselves accordingly. I am Danielle from now on."
She let out a deep breath. She wasn't ready to reveal the dark parts of her own life.
Erik leaned back into his chair, a soft smile playing on his lips. "And I am Erik", he replied pleasantly. Despite the twinkle in her eye, he still saw the shadow, it had faded, but had not disappeared. Danielle had pain in her heart, and at this instant, he wished he could help her rid herself of the hurt, make it go away and never return.
"Erik...." she said slowly.
She loved how it sounded on her lips. She loved how it felt to be in the presence of such a strong man. She missed a man's caress... a gentle kiss.
Stop it! Her mind screamed loudly, so loudly, she jumped in her chair.
She had done only one simple thing.....agree to be this man's wife, for show only. Once it was over, it was over. With that in her mind, she could forget that she was already attracted to him, already wishing it was much more.
"Is something the matter, Danielle?” Erik inquired, her sudden movement startling him.
Why was he very warm, all of a sudden? And why did he feel the urge to know what her lips tasted like? How the creamy skin of her cheek would feel under his hands? His palms tingled as they rested on his thighs.
"Yes, Erik....I suppose I did not realize the late hour, I must return home, surely Father is noticing my absence. I have still to prepare dinner. Perhaps you could call a carriage for me?" She stood up slowly, not wanting to leave, but knowing if she stayed, she would never want to leave at all.
Erik rose from the chair with her. He exhaled deeply, part of him grateful for her departure, for he knew by now that he wished to know more about the lovely, intriguing girl with such a sad, mysterious past. But he was determined not to treat her like one of his mistresses. It seemed she deserved more... so much more.
She backs off slowly.
Too close, way too close.
Must leave. Now.
"Perhaps you can inform me of when I should return to choose my gown for Saturday evening?"
Erik touched her arm, and he swayed from the proximity of her. "Come inside, Danielle, and I will call for your carriage,” he informed her, all the while keeping his hand on her, leading her toward the house.
She did not protest.
Chapter Five:
Along the left bank of the river Seine across from Notre Dame, just past the many street artists, wandering musicians and vendors, lies Rue du Bailleul, which leads to the Pont Neuf. At the end of this rather bustling street, set Durand Dress Makers.
A rather small business in comparison to the other shops, it boasts one of the nicer window displays in the area. Danielle mused as the carriage pulled down the narrow, cobblestone street, that perhaps that is why clients still came in, for Evelyne’s creative window displays. It certainly wasn’t to see her. Perhaps it was to see her Father, Jean-Pierre Durand.
He was known for making women happy.
Her naivety pushed to the side, she knew exactly what they all meant.
Jean-Pierre Durand was not a ladies man by any sense of the word. Having just turned sixty, he was rather tall and painfully thin, with a squared, hard face that sported a graying beard. His eyes were blue, but had grown cold and rather thoughtless over the past nine years since her mother’s passing. Known for being a great businessman, he was always working, either in the shop greeting clients and taking orders, or upstairs in their meager apartment pouring over the books and daily receipts.
It was easier than dealing with his daughter.
Danielle’s duties were rather simple, but strictly enforced. Up at dawn, she always brought hot coffee to her father’s bedside before dressing and going down to open the shop. At the end of the day, she would leave the room in the back and go upstairs to their apartment and prepare the evening meal.
She rarely greeted clients anymore; Jean-Pierre was simply too embarrassed.
Why would they look at you? Pitiful, shy thing that you are….. he would always tell her….just stay in the back and sew…..
And sew is what she did. Sometimes, in his haste, Jean-Pierre would promise much more than his daughter or Evelyne could produce in one day, thus forcing Danielle to remain in the shop overnight, sewing to finish the orders.
Yes, indeed it was a hard life, but it was all she knew.
The carriage pulled up to the front door of the dress shop
just as the sun fell across the waters of the
Someone was inside.
She walked in the front door and immediately saw Jasmine Marchand, her arms flailing as she spoke loudly about a deadline and taking her business elsewhere.
Jean-Pierre Durand stood almost frozen, shaking his head and apologizing profusely. He turned then and saw his daughter standing by the door and frowned.
Danielle lowered her head immediately; she knew it was going to be bad.
Jean-Pierre was not a very tolerant man on his best days, at least not when it came to his daughter. But today was not his best day… he was downright displeased at her outrageous behavior. His voice was as cold as his eyes when he addressed her. "Danielle, Madame Marchand is waiting. Where is her gown?”
Stammering, she approached him and replied, "Father, her gown is not due for two days, I have still to finish the beadwork and hem. It will be ready on time, I assure you." She tried to make herself convincing, but it was not working. It was apparent, that….again….he had promised more than she could deliver.
Jasmine Marchand, on the other hand, was not convinced.
"I was told by you, Monsieur Durand, that I shall have my gown today and I want it finished and turned over to me, immediately!" Her arms flailed again dramatically.
Jean-Pierre Durand narrowed his eyes into slits as he glared at Danielle. Yet, he turned to give Madame Marchand a restrained, but pleasant smile. "Do not worry, Madame. You shall have your gown tomorrow afternoon. My daughter will work on it until it is finished, even if it takes all night.” His voice barely contained his temper as he again turned to his daughter. "Right, Danielle?”
She pursed her lips tightly together as she said, "Of course." With that, she lowered her head even further as she walked to the back of the shop, opened the door and started up the stairs that led to their meager apartment.
Again, she was going to work all night, but she still had dinner to prepare.
Jean-Pierre gave a soft sigh of relief as he took in the look on Madame Marchand's features. She seemed appeased, for now. Let Danielle work all night, indeed. She deserved it for abandoning him all day to cavort with her cousin.
Danielle stood alone in the small kitchen of their apartment, chopping vegetables for the soup pot and waiting for the inevitable moment when her father would come upstairs and berate her for her absence. It was times like these, she was thankful to be holding a knife.
The thought, the very thought she could use it, frightened her.
Instead, she chose to think of Erik Renault, the man whom she had just met that day. That, if anything could, would help her get through what was sure to be a long and tedious night.
After seeing Madame Marchand to her carriage, Jean-Pierre dismissed Evelyne for the day. The girl had been in the shop since the crack of dawn, she deserved a night of rest. He was not as happy about her wayward daughter. He locked the door to the shop and put up the "temporarily closed" sign, then made his way up the narrow staircase.
Oh, Danielle would have some explaining to do.
His hard footsteps sounded like thunder and Danielle's heart sank, yet she could not fight what was coming, so she continued to make her soup.
Her father loved soup.
She hoped it would help.
He stood in the doorway to the small kitchen, watching her work over the stove, stirring the contents of a large pot of what appeared, from the fragrant smell permeating the air, to be his favorite soup. But he was not hungry. He was too mad to be hungry.
"Danielle", he hissed, "what have you been thinking, leaving me alone to deal with Madame Marchand. You had work to do today, and you promised you would be home early".
She turned to look at him and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
He raised his voice, his anger barely contained now. "Answer me!”
She almost jumped out of her skin. Still, after all these years, his voice could cause her to almost faint from fright. Slowly, she closed her eyes, then opened them again, trying to gather herself and answer calmly. She prayed for some backbone, the same moxie she showed today with Erik Renault.
"Father," she began, "I told you this morning that Michelle was quite ill with her pregnancy and needed care until her husband returned home. Unfortunately, he was later than expected and I returned as quickly as I could."
He raised his arm, dismissing her words with a sweep of his hand. "You chose your cousin over me? Over our shop? Do you realize we could lose Madame Marchand's business? She is one of our best clients! As usual, you did not use your head, stupid child!” His cheeks turned red from sheer anger. "For this, you shall work all night if you have to. And tomorrow, if you are still not done. You are slow as it is, this does not help matters any!” he continued, never noticing his daughter's slumping shoulders and the small tears at the corners of her eyes.
Her resolve was finally gone and she felt her cheeks turn red with shame and embarrassment. "Father, I swear to you, I shall go right after I have finished preparing dinner and work on her gown. Please, do not be angry with me. I will finish all my current work, because I have to....." she stopped abruptly.
For a moment, she almost gave up on Erik’s offer, finding it futile to try and keep up the deception.
Her words barely calmed him as he watched her stammer her apologies. Oh yes, she was repentant, as she should be. She still listened to him, as she very well should. Yet, he did not like her last sentence. He narrowed his eyes again. "You have to... what, exactly? Finish your sentence; you know I cannot stand it when you do not speak properly".
Have to do it, must do
it…..
"I have to return to help her again for the next few
days." Immediately she spoke again, trying to calm the storm that would
follow, "But, I only have Madame Marchand's gown to finish, and Madame
Lupine’s hem to do, Evelyne will be able to finish the last two, since she
began them. Michelle's husband, he has
to work out of
She knew she was rambling like a mad fool, but she couldn’t stop herself.
He was not impressed.
He gripped the back of a nearby chair, his knuckles turning white. How dare she make such a decision without coming to him first. "You shall do no such thing, Danielle", he spit out, "Your place is here, and here you shall stay. You are not to tell me what work will be assigned to you. And who will prepare my meals? No, you are not permitted to leave, insolent child!".
He remained impassive as he watched her bottom lip quiver slightly, knowing she was doing her best to keep from crying. It did not matter; she would obey, as she always did.
"You do not understand… she has no one else, Father. I promise you that I shall return each evening to prepare your meals. Work shall not lag. You have my word, please reconsider, Father. Please? She needs me."
And we need this
money….
Tears formed in her eyes and she hated herself for it. She wished she was stronger.
Although....her mind wondered.....she was strong enough to lie, wasn't she?
His anger still flared, but he found his resolve faltering. He didn’t like it, he thought of it as weakness, but he had to admit even to himself, she was a good worker and if she gave her word, she’d honor it. And if he was truly candid, he knew that the workload was not as heavy this week. He frowned. "My dinner will be on the table each night, as usual. If you are late just once, you shall not be permitted to return the next day. Is that understood?”
The relief she felt almost made her cry out. She sighed deeply and wiped her tears. "Thank you, Father, and no, I shall not be late, not one day. Now.....go wash up, your soup will be ready in a half hour." She spoke softly with a gleam in her eye.
Despite it all, she truly loved him and wished for nothing but to please him, to have that sparkle return to his eyes, the same sparkle they only held for her mother.
After all, as he had told her many times, they were all they had.
Danielle's fingers hurt almost to the bone and she rubbed them as she walked down the narrow, back street toward Madame Boudreaut’s dress shop that Erik told her to visit for her fitting.
Working all morning to finish her work, she had very little time left for the fitting before she would have to return and prepare her father's meal that he requested, shepherd’s pie. She groaned to herself, knowing it would take twice as long to prepare. Somehow, he was doing it on purpose, she was sure of it.
She entered the shop and was amazed at how immaculately decorated it was. Colorful, framed artwork adorned the dark rose colored walls, matching the long, velvet drapes that covered the front windows. Along the left side wall, draped over tall, thin mannequins, were some of the most astonishing gowns she had ever seen. Behind the long counter along the opposite wall, stood a rather heavyset woman. Her gray apron was adorned with pins and thread of many colors. A cloth measuring tape dangled loosely from her side pocket. She was looking down and didn’t see Danielle until she heard the very audible gasp.
No surprise. Hardly anyone noticed Danielle.
Madame Boudreaut, the owner of the shop, finally looked up from her needlework. "Can I help you, child?” she asked, observing her closely. Surely the girl wanted a job. She would have to turn her down, of course.
Danielle wanted to look down, as was her nature in the presence of more authoritative figures, but she willed herself to keep her head up high and replied softly, "Yes, Madame, I am here for my fitting. I'm Danielle. I was told you were expecting me?"
Madame Boudreaut's mouth dropped. She was Madame Renault? The wife of the infamous Erik Renault? But she was no more than a scared kitten. She again regarded her from head to toe, appraising her.
Well, she looked nice enough, if you didn’t take into account her slumped shoulders. She didn’t know how to carry herself, but an expensive dress would hide that flaw. Hopefully. Monsieur Renault had made it clear that money was no object.
He would have to pay handsomely to make that wife of his presentable. She snorted inwardly.
"Please come in, I have a selection of gowns to show you, as per the instructions that were given to me", she told Danielle, who had remained rooted in place.
Sucking up another ounce of courage, she stepped inside. "I look forward to seeing your work, I have heard so much about you."
And she did
indeed. Madame Boudreaut's dress shop
was one, if not the finest shops in
And, if all worked well with Monsieur Renault, she would soon have her business back. In that, she took great comfort.
Madame Boudreaut
smiled proudly, but snottily. "Yes,
I daresay there is no better shop when it comes to producing ballgowns of the finest imported materials. Our clientele is of the highest quality, we
only dress the loveliest ladies of
Danielle’s eyes
dropped. She might not be as charming as
the finest ladies in
Madame Boudreaut left the large counter to walk toward Danielle. "Nevertheless, I think we have something here that will enhance your figure. It will be a nice, uh, challenge, indeed," she sighed. She took her arm and led her toward the back where several gowns were displayed around the large room. She looked at Danielle, noticing that her eyes were large as saucers. "They are all beautiful, are they not?” she said proudly. My girls are all expertly trained.
"Oh yes, they are exquisite." She laughed a bit nervously, "My apologies for gawking, but they are to be admired for their design and craftsmanship. Any woman would be proud to wear one.”
Madame Boudreaut nodded appreciatively, then crossed her arms over her ample chest. "Well, remove your clothing, child", she ordered.
Danielle’s eyes widen. "My clothing?" She had never had to undress before another person before. She looked around for a dressing room, but found nothing.
"Do you think you will be trying on your gown over what you are wearing?” This time she snorted visibly. “You are wasting my time. Remove your clothing so you can try something on!” she repeated impatiently.
At that instant, Madame Boudreaut heard the doorbell at the entrance to her shop, and she groaned to herself.
They shall have to
wait…..
Erik walked in, frowning when he saw no one in the shop. He knew that Danielle had an appointment scheduled for this hour, surely she would not have forgotten. He stood by the door and waited for someone to come out.
Jumping slightly at the sharpness of Madame Boudreaut's voice, Danielle began to unbutton her gown. She looked around and suddenly she was being observed by at least three more young women, who had come in from another room. She felt cold and anxious, like she was on display. She wanted out and she wanted out now. Why should she have to be put through such embarrassment to try on a gown anyway?
Again, she looked down to avoid their gaze.
Erik walked up to the desk, his hand ringing the bell that was set there for just such a purpose. "Is anyone here?", he inquires loudly, yet politely.
Madame Boudreaut signed loudly. "Can't you move your fingers a bit faster, Danielle? I do not have all day! What are you hiding under there that is so precious that you have to preserve it like some work of art in a museum?” she laughed, the sound prompting the three seamstresses to burst into their own fit of childish giggles.
Erik's head turned sharply toward the door at the back, having heard the name of his future make-believe wife, followed by cackling laughter. He winced as he gripped the countertop with his gloved hands.
Danielle felt as if she could very well sink into a hole in the floor, if there was one. It was the last straw and she buttoned up her gown in disgust. She did not have to be treated that way, not for a ridiculous gown.
"If you will excuse me, I shall have to return another day....."
And with that, she made her way towards the door, hoping she could make it out without bursting into tears.
Erik did not wait for someone to come up to the counter, instead walking toward the door to the back room. He didn’t even reach it before it flew open and Danielle came crashing into him.
Unaware of what she was doing or whom she had ran into, she began to apologize, keeping her head down and wishing she could just leave as quickly as possible, "Forgive my clumsiness, Monsieur, I was not looking where I was going, if you will excuse me......"
But Erik put his hands on her shoulders, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Danielle, are you alright? You are flustered", he told her, noting again the blush high on her cheeks.
She looked up into Erik's eyes and gasped in recognition. “Erik…I did not know it was you….you see, I was…” she stammered helplessly. She couldn’t let Erik see her in this state, she just couldn’t.
"It is alright, let me handle this, I heard how you were addressed and I find their lack of good manners unforgivable", he glanced toward the door, when Madame Boudreaut appeared. He smirked when she inhaled sharply, taken completely aback by his surprise visit.
Unforgivable.....his words rang out. He almost hissed when he said it. Was he….angry?
Danielle could not fathom it, but it was if a sudden burst of strong wind blew in under her body and lifted her up. She felt strong and with it, a surprising air of confidence.
Gazing back at Madame Beaurauet’s frightened behavior gave her even more power. She would see that they were reprimanded for how they treated her. "Yes, Erik. They were very rude to me. They did not allow me privacy to disrobe and they.....gawked at my appearance." She informed him, feeling stronger by the minute. She could almost feel her back straighten, the blush leave her cheeks.
Erik regarded her, listening to the full story of her mistreatment since she had arrived in the shop.
"Madame Boudreaut", he finally addressed her, his voice strong and commanding, "please come here this instant". He kept his hands on Danielle's shoulders, the need to protect her, to make her shame disappear almost overwhelming.
Madame Boudreaut blanched visibly. Monsieur Renault’s very presence intimidated her. "Good…good afternoon, Monsieur Renault, I was just getting ready to show Madame the selection we have chosen for her", her smile was pleasant but stiff.
Erik raised his hand to cut her off. "Enough", he said, "Is this how you planned on treating my wife?” He glanced at Danielle. "Do not deny it, Madame, I heard every word, you were less than professional, and I shall have none of this".
Danielle's eyes widened but she made no other outward sigh of her shock.
Did he just call
me........his......wife?
Just those words themselves made her feel pride she had never felt before.
She belonged to someone.
Even if it was fake.
She held her head high and smirked.
Madame Boudreaut, on the other hand, became very agitated, waving her arms about. "I assure you, Monsieur, it was a misunderstanding. I am very pleased and honored that you have chosen us to dress your lovely wife". Her eyes were wild and she swallowed hard.
Erik looked into Danielle's eyes. They were so clear, so sincere. She was... lovely. He turned his attention again to Madame Boudreaut. "I am very tempted to take my business elsewhere, Madame", he spit out, and watched with a small amount of pleasure as Madame Boudreaut turned a lighter shade of white.
Smirking, Danielle touched Erik's hand, surprised by her own boldness. "I am sure that Madame Lefavre would be more than happy to fit me for one of her gowns, Erik. Perhaps we shall go there now?"
Madame Boudreaut's eyes all but bulged out of her head. "No, Monsieur Renault, I promise you, your wife will be treated with the utmost respect, like the lady that she is. Please Monsieur Renault... you have my word", she pleaded.
Erik regarded her coldly for a few moments, then turned to Danielle. "What do you think… would you still rather go to Madame Lefavre? I leave it entirely up to you, my darling". He closed his mouth immediately. The words had come out so naturally....
She was so intent on
teaching Madame Boudreaut a lesson that the word darling momentarily passed.
"Umm.....I would daresay that Madame Lefavre would have to work
overtime to finish it before Saturday evening....perhaps I shall stay. That is, if Madame Boudreaut agrees to treat
her clients with more respect, even those who are not the finest of
It was only then that she remembered the word darling and lightheartedly smiled at it.
He was playing his part well.....
She looked into his eyes and saw no lighthearted amusement.
..... perhaps… he was
not playing afterall?
Erik absentmindedly stroked
her shoulder with his thumb. He noticed
then that he had kept his hand on her the entire time and didn’t particularly
want to remove it just yet. "As you
wish", he smiled softly at her.
"I am sure that Madame Boudreaut will serve you well. After all, you shall be the toast of
Madame Boudreaut nodded hurriedly. "Of course, Monsieur. Madame Renault shall be the most beautiful lady at the opera". She took a deep breath. Her business was saved.
_________________________________________________
A half hour later, Erik and Danielle emerged from the dress shop. They went no more than a few feet down the street before they both burst into laughter.
"Madame Boudreaut's face was truly priceless when I told her the gown was mediocre, was it not?" She looked up into his eyes, proud of herself. "When in truth, it is the most beautiful gown I have ever laid my eyes upon."
Erik laughed, happy to see amusement in Danielle's normally sad eyes. He was delighted by the sound of her laughter, it was clear and fresh and youthful. "Priceless indeed, I thought she was going to faint! The gown was beautiful, but you complimented it", he told her, taking both of her hands in his.
Unexpected by his gesture, she gasped softly.
No, he could not do this; they were on a public street!
"Erik, I do not think we....." she stammered, wondering what happened to the boldness she had displayed just moments earlier in the dress shop.
Erik didn’t let go of her hands despite her protest. “Forgive me, Danielle, if I am offending you, but in truth, we are doing nothing wrong", he reminded her, his eyes gleaming. Sighing, he reluctantly let her hands slip away from his, but offered his arm instead. "Would you like to walk with me?” he asked.
Relieved, she took his arm and replied, "Of course, for a few moments anyway. We were in the dress shop longer than expected and I will be due home soon. I mean....if we are to project the illusion that we are married, we should at least look like it, do you not agree?"
He looked down at her, admiring the afternoon sun reflecting in her hair. "I think you are quite right", he offered pleasantly. "And may I say again that the gowns you have chosen are exquisite. I am looking forward to escorting you to the cocktail party, and to the inauguration", he continued.
"Why, thank you. I look forward to the inauguration as well as the......party." She groaned to herself as she tried to spit out the word party. She hated facing Madame Dupré. Her only hope is that the passage of time made the woman’s memory fade. "Erik.....may I ask something?" She continued to walk, holding tight to his arm.
"You may, of course", he replied as he pressed her arm to his body. It felt like they had been doing this for a long time. It felt... real.
Feeling secure, she felt she could ask almost anything, even if it sounded simplistic. "I would like to know.....how will I be addressed at Madame Dupré’s gathering? What I mean is.....will I be Danielle Renault, or simply Madame Renault?"
Erik frowned. Her question made sense, yet he wondered why she seemed concerned. "Why... I think that both forms of address are appropriate, would you not think?” he asked.
She frowned at his response.
"What I mean is", he continued, "I think Danielle Renault sounds quite nice, while Madame Renault will certainly be used by lesser known guests". He glanced down at her. "Do you feel comfortable with that?” he inquired.
"I would prefer Madame Renault at all times." Her answer came quickly and firmly.
However, her demeanor told otherwise, she was afraid.
Erik was taken aback by the finality of her request. Why did it matter to her so much? She was a virtual unknown in his circle; her name would mean nothing to anyone. Yet, he knew she was hiding secrets deep within her heart. "Then Madame Renault it will be", he told her. He spotted his carriage around the corner. "Here we are. May I see you home first?” he offered.
When it appeared that he would not argue her request, only then did she visibly relax. "Thank you, but no, I am only down at the end of Rue du Bailleul.....but thank you for the walk....." she stopped and turned to him, looking deep into his eyes, "...and thank you for....."
Erik stopped, facing her. He found himself drawn deep within her eyes. He would find out her secrets, in time. "Yes, Danielle?” he asked.
She shook her head with a faint laugh, "Just, thank you for earlier, in the dress shop. You did not have to stand up for me the way you did."
That sweet, lovely laugh again.
He smiled agreeably, but his eyes were serious. "I would not let anyone insult you, Danielle. I only did what I felt was just", he answered. "Now, as we have agreed, I shall see you tomorrow morning at my home for etiquette lessons with Emma. I shall have the carriage pick you up a block from your home at seven. Or is it too early?” he asked politely.
"No, seven is fine. I shall be at the corner." She nodded and reluctantly pulled away from him.
Very reluctantly.
But, she could not be late.....
"Until then, Erik."
Chapter Six:
The soft, rather faint sound of laughter could be heard all over the house as Danielle, Emma and Lacie stood in the large ballroom of Erik's home that next day. Danielle was there early, as instructed, waiting at the corner of Rue du Bailleul for Erik’s carriage to pick her up. It had been almost too much for her to bear, leaving her father so early in the morning. He was not pleased, even though the day before he had agreed to it, even if she had stayed up into the wee hours to finish a last minute alteration. Under calm and quiet assurance from Evelyne, Danielle left, still noting the horrible scowl on her father’s face. She knew she had better be earlier than expected that evening in order to keep the peace.
Erik had greeted her warmly with a soft kiss to her hand, but nothing more. Today was serious. One day before the cocktail party at Madame Dupré’s and he was still unsure how she would do in a social situation. A bit more sure of herself, he observed, but still rather skittish. He instructed Emma to begin right away and he retired to his study with Jules for an early morning business meeting.
The first lesson was table manners, which began in the dining room at a rather long, but expertly carved mahogany table, covered in a fine silk table cloth. Danielle laughed to herself, wondering what they truly must have thought of her, not having proper table manners. She’d show them. When she picked up and held her utensils and glass properly, sitting exactly two inches from the table, her back perfectly straight without being instructed to do so, the look on Emma’s face was priceless.
“My dear child, you did that perfectly.” Emma patted her shoulder with a very happy smile.
“My mother did teach me manners, Emma.” She answered simply.
“Oh, I am terribly sorry. I did not wish to imply you had not been taught otherwise, it is just that….well….only ladies of a certain status know to….”
Danielle looked up at Emma, realizing she might have given away too much. She had to think fast on her feet. “My mother was well versed in the ways of social gatherings, my grandmother as well. I saw a few things from an early age, even though, I am sure she did not have time to teach me everything.”
“I see. Well, I daresay that your must have been a fine lady.”
She sighed. Her mother, Geneviève, had been a most grand lady and a wonderful wife and mother. She missed her terribly, more than she even admitted to herself most of the time. Her father missed her too, she was sure of it, although it was never talked about. In fact, the discussion of Geneviève was forbidden. Period.
“How long has your mother been gone, dear?” Emma asked her.
Softly, she replied, “Almost nine years.”
“How did she…”
“A ruptured appendix….” She answered quickly, then spoke again before Emma could respond, “Umm….could we continue?”
“Of course.”
************************************
Later on that morning, in Erik’s rather large and spacious ballroom, Danielle looked at Emma with a grimace as she held a thick, heavy book in her hands.
"You want me to do what with this book?" The shocked look on her face made both Emma and Lacie giggle, though they tried not to, for her sake.
Emma tilted her head and gave Danielle a warm smile. "It will help you keep your back straight and your head high as you walk. That way, people will notice your presence and feel how confident you are", she instructed. "Trust me, it is not as hard as it looks".
Emma looked at Lacie for support as she realized that Danielle’s mother must not have had time to teach this to her.
Lacie agreed and smiled happily, taking the book from Danielle and placing it on her own head. Emma had instructed the young maid in the same manner not very long ago and already, she exuded a confidence that Lacie would not have thought was within herself.
"See?" She began to walk, keeping the book perfectly balanced on her head, her body aligned as she moved with grace.
Danielle raised her eyebrows.
This didn't look so hard.
Lacie winked in Danielle's direction. "The first time I did it, I dropped the book on my toes", she giggled, "Monsieur Renault heard me screaming from his study", she continued, and Emma laughed along with her at the memory.
"But,” Lacie reassured, "you are already poised and I am sure you will learn much faster than I did". She gave the book back to Danielle, touching her hand encouragingly.
She shrugged her shoulders and took the book while Lacie helped her fit it on her head. She managed to keep it balanced, heavy as it was. At least she could do that much. Then, slowly she began to walk. She got two steps before the book fell off her head, hitting the wood floor of the ballroom with a loud thud. Embarrassed, she could do nothing but stand frozen, looking at the book and feeling stupid.
Emma and Lacie glanced at each other and simultaneously burst out laughing. No, they were not laughing at the young woman, but they knew it was inevitable. Nobody can succeed the first time, it was just not possible. Lacie hurriedly picked up the book and smiled at Danielle. "You did better than I the first time I tried. I could not even take one step before I hurt my toes", she laughed again.
Erik looked up from his ledger as he heard the sound of laughter drifting through the walls of his spacious, yet otherwise empty manor. His lips curled into a soft smirk.
Danielle visibly relaxed at the sound of their laughter. She wasn't going to be reprimanded. "It is not as easy as it looks, is it?" she said softly.
"No, it is not, but you will do fine. Try again." Lacie encouraged her.
She put the book back on her head and kept her back straight, her head very still and concentrated hard, wishing to do well for both of them. Again, she began to walk, but this time, she made it at least four steps before the book slipped. Danielle giggled, reaching for the book, but it eluded her. Luckily, Emma caught it. The three women laughed again.
This time, Danielle was the loudest.
Erik tapped his fountain pen on his ledger, wondering now what was going on that made them so jovial.
Was it Danielle who was laughing now? He remembered her clear, tantalizing laugh
from yesterday. His home was too quiet, it needed a breath of fresh air. He was glad that Emma's instructions seemed
to be going well. Danielle needed to
learn a few basic rules of etiquette, but he wanted to be sure that her
instructions were given with the utmost respect. She deserved it and he knew Emma would make
her feel at ease, not like some stuffy outside instructor. No, Emma, whose only daughter was now married
and living in
Over the course of the next half hour, they continued until Danielle could make it across the room without dropping the book. Emma could hardly believe how fast she picked up on it. Of course it should have been no surprise to her after what she had observed in the dining room. Why would it be such a shock that she had the potential to move like a true lady?
To Emma, perhaps, Danielle was already a lady.
Lacie and Danielle laughed as the book finally fell off her head in her attempt to turn around. Unfortunately, neither could reach it on time and it fell onto a small table by the chaise, knocking it to the floor and sending a large, expensive looking porcelain vase to the floor. It smashed immediately, the pieces scattering all over the hardwood floor.
Both Danielle and Lacie gasped in horror as panic set in. Danielle froze where she stood, barefoot and afraid to move for all the broken pieces.
"Oh God, I am so sorry!" Danielle exclaimed as Lacie bent down to pick up the pieces.
Lacie could only grimace. She knew her Master would be angry.
Erik jumped, startled at the sudden crashing sound his sharp ears caught. It was coming from the general direction of the ballroom. He rose from his desk to investigate. He had promised Emma he would stay away, so this gave him an excuse to see how the lesson was progressing. He was not quite willing to admit to himself that he mostly wanted to see Danielle. He just hoped nothing was wrong.
He left his study and he walked the long corridors to the ballroom. His heels were the only noise in the house now, the sound making Lacie and Danielle even more panic stricken.
Erik reached the ballroom door and threw it open with one
motion, his eyes scanning first for Danielle, who by then had gone pale, then
to the floor where Lacie was crouched busily picking up the remnants of what
appeared to be a vase. He immediately
recognized the expensive Persian porcelain he had purchased from an antique
dealer in
"It appears there has been a small accident", he remarked. His voice was calm, and not a trace of anger could be heard.
Despite the calmness of his voice, Danielle still began to shake, causing Emma to put her arm around her protectively. She opened her mouth to apologize for the accident, but Lacie surprisingly spoke up first.
"Forgive me, Monsieur....I have broken a vase. It was an accident, I was showing Danielle the proper way to turn and I bumped into it, please forgive me."
Danielle could hardly believe her ears. Why would Lacie lie to protect her?
She could not have that. "Erik, no,” she spoke immediately, glaring at Lacie, “I broke it," she informed him, "I apologize for my clumsiness...."
“No, Monsieur, she is covering for me…” Lacie interrupted.
“Stop it now, Lacie.” Emma told her firmly, but calmly. Lacie did as she was told.
Erik studied both women, then glanced at Emma, who could only shake her head.
“Who did it?” Erik asked Emma. His tone was not harsh, but it was apparent he was losing is patience.
“Danielle.” She answered him.
Bloody hell, it was only a vase, even if it was his favorite. He didn’t even know how many he owned in his vast collection. He was a collector of fine art, and used his money to invest in the best he could find on the antique circuit. He shook his head as he approached the small group. "Lacie, see to it that all pieces are picked up, I do not want Danielle to hurt her feet", he instructed, then turned to his head maid. "Emma, after you are finished with your lesson, please find another vase in the house to replace this one".
He smiled warmly at Danielle. "Think nothing of it, Danielle. In truth, I was not particularly fond of this vase. You have done me great service by ridding me of its presence", he told her with a glint in his eyes.
Despite herself, she let out a soft laugh of relief and said, "Again, I am sorry."
Emma patted her back and moved her over to the couch. "Sit down, dear and take a break." Then she turned to Erik, "Monsieur, may I speak with you privately?"
Erik nodded. "You may", he answered, then walked toward the door, away from the two other women.
Danielle sat for only a second. As soon as Erik and Emma were out the door, she fell to her knees and began helping Lacie pick up the pieces of the broken vase. “Why did you do that, Lacie?” she asked her.
“I just did not want you to get into any trouble.”
“But you would have been in trouble.”
Lacie could only shrug her shoulders.
“Well, thank you anyway, for everything.”
That made Lacie smile and silently, they worked together to gather the broken pieces.
Emma looked up at Erik once they were a safe distance out the ballroom door.
"Monsieur, it has been a very long morning and I was about to fix an early afternoon tea and brunch for Danielle." She took a deep breath. “I know you wished to hear my report.”
“Of course, I hope her progress has been satisfactory?”
"She has done very well. Surprisingly, she already knew many of the things you wished for me to instruct."
His eyes widened slightly, “Yes? From where?”
“Her mother, before her passing, Monsieur.”
He nodded appreciatively. "Indeed", he replied. "I am very happy to hear this. So you feel she will be ready for what is required of her?” His eyes drifted toward the cracked door and to Danielle who was still helping Lacie pick up the shards of porcelain. The two girls had the appearance of two friends who had known each other for years. It pleased him. Lacie was a nice girl, and would be a good influence on Danielle. He suspected that she did not have many friends her age.
"Yes, Monsieur, she is very graceful and socially charming in every way. She appears to not be quite as shy and reserved as she did when she first arrived. There is one thing, however...." She looked around, then leaned into Erik closer, "I assumed, you know, with what her mother had taught her, that her father must have instructed her on dancing, but it appears that is not the case. She has not been taught. I know there will be dancing at the party and.....well.....that is probably the last, but most important lesson." She smiled kindly up at him.
Erik pursed his lips and nodded. "Well, then, I shall have to teach her", he said. "I do not have any engagements this afternoon, so perhaps if she is not too tired, we could start today. Emma, please see that refreshments are served in my library. I shall share the meal with her", he added.
"Alone, Monsieur?" she asked sharply, not meaning to. She blushed. Never had she questioned her Master's orders.
Erik opened his mouth, then closed it immediately. He had known Emma for a long time, she was always allowed to offer her own thoughts respectfully, but this still caught him off guard. "Yes, Emma, alone", he replied. He was well aware that Emma knew of his more private habits. After all, she escorted his mistresses up to his chambers upon their arrival. He cringed at the thought that Emma was perhaps misled as to what his intentions were with Danielle. "We will share a meal together and that is all," he added quickly, and firmly.
"Of course, Monsieur, I shall prepare the refreshments right away."
And with that, Emma left quickly without another word, thankful she was not admonished for her slip of the tongue.
Erik let out a deep breath. No, Danielle would not be treated like one of his many mistresses.
He returned to stand next to her. "Danielle", he offered, "I would be honored if you would have some refreshments in my company. Emma is preparing the meal as we speak, and I thought we could converse in my library?” He found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response.
She looked at Lacie, then back up to Erik and replied gratefully, "I would love to, thank you."
Lacie grinned from ear to ear. Never had she seen her Master so cordial. Yes, he was a fair and courteous man, but this was different and she knew Danielle was the reason. For that, she could thank her a thousand times over. Perhaps that is why she tried to take the blame for the vase. She simply wanted to keep Danielle in his favor.
Erik held out his hand for Danielle to take. "Here...”
His smile broadened as he felt Danielle's delicate hand press against his palm, and he helped her up to her feet. She had used lotion, he could feel her skin was noticeably softer and silkier than it was when they were first introduced.
Or perhaps it was his imagination? He didn’t care.
She gasped slightly as she felt his thumb caress her hand. He noticed her obvious blisters and needle pricks from her long hours of sewing, she was sure of it. It made her uneasy.
"I apologize....I do not have the hands of a lady....my fingers...I have been sewing extra to make up for the hours I have been spending here and...."
Erik kept her hand cradled in his own, his thumb caressing her warm skin. "You have lovely hands, Danielle. They have character. They are not the idle hands of a lady who spends their days lazing in her boudoir, doing nothing productive", he smiled. "Take pride in your work, it is honorable". His eyes never left hers.
She could only nod at his thoughtfulness.
Oh, Erik, if you only knew....
After a leisurely half hour and a pleasant meal, Emma took the tray and observed Danielle's plate. "My, dear, I love to see a lady with a nice appetite."
Danielle sipped the last of her tea and placed it on the tray, “With a meal as fine as this, I daresay one does develop a healthy appetite.”
Emma laughed deeply, "Then perhaps you can persuade Monsieur Erik to do the same, he hardly eats enough to keep a bird alive."
Danielle also laughed, noting it to be very true, for she had observed that Erik ate hardly anything. "I shall try, but you know how men can get.....stubborn." She spoke before she thought about it.
What boldness!
She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed softly, hoping she didn't offend Erik.
Erik was wholeheartedly amused at her comment. He did not know what was more charming, her words, or the shy laughter she tried to stifle with her hand.
"I think the vast majority of my acquaintances would agree with you, my dear", he replied with mirth. "I am afraid that my stubbornness is a trait I was born with, and shall remain with me forever". He sat back and crossed his leg, taking another sip of his jasmine tea, his favorite.
And with that, Emma excused herself silently. She could tell her master wanted to be alone.
Erik glanced at Emma and smirked as she left. He swore that some days, the woman could read his mind. He cleared his throat, then put down his cup and saucer. "Danielle, I know it was agreed that you would be here this morning only, but...” he looked up at her. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to insult her, or appear presumptuous, "It has been brought to my attention that you might be in need of a few dance lessons, and I was hoping you would allow me to instruct you", he finished. He hoped he had not sounded like he wanted to take advantage of her. Dancing did require a level of intimacy, and he was leery of scaring her.
She cleared her throat, "Yes, I do need lessons, but I am afraid I will not be able to learn enough by Saturday night to be adequate at the party." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Plus....I must return home by five."
Erik looked down at her hands. She was fiddling with the sleeve of her gown, and he could sense her nervousness creeping up again. Whatever was waiting for her, she was not looking forward to it and it was clearly the source of her sudden agitation. “I think I can teach you the very basics this afternoon, it will only require a few minutes. Then tomorrow morning, we shall practice until you feel comfortable enough, all day if we have to", he said softly.
"Tomorrow?" she asked, her voice trembling. She had not expected that they would spend the day together, only the night… long enough to go to the party.
It would be Saturday, the busiest day of the week at the shop and her father had already told her she had to be there during the day, which she readily agreed to, telling him that Michelle would not need her until the evening.
She stood up quickly. "Perhaps we should do most of the lesson now....I cannot be here tomorrow until time for the party."
"Danielle...” Erik inquired, rising with her, "I felt your nervousness just now at the mention of your returning home on time. I hope you know that you can talk to me... should you choose to?” He gently put his hand on hers.
"Again, I am sorry, Erik...I do not mean to be so
elusive, it is just that I...." She took a deep breath. "When I told
you yesterday that my father did not know I was here, it was true. He believes I am with my cousin
Michelle. She is with child and I told
him her husband had been taking work out of
She stopped and turned away.
"If I do not return home on time, he will forbid me from leaving again."
Erik's mouth dropped open. Danielle was not a child, yet she was clearly being treated like one, resorting to deception and lies to simply leave her home for a few hours. "I see", he said, knotting his hand behind his back. "You are not allowed to come and go as you please?” he asked incredulously.
She laughed softly. "I suppose....being the clumsy, ignorant girl that I am, Father believes I can scarcely take care of myself if left alone for too long. Perhaps, he is right. Here, I am in your home less than a few hours and I break one of your cherished vases."
She turned back and looked him directly in the eyes. "It was your favorite."
Erik's eyes widened. She could not have known.
"Clumsy, ignorant... no. But you are perceptive, I shall grant you that", he replied in awe. "That vase was one of my nicer ones, but I have dozens more. It shall not be missed. What truly distresses me is the way in which you speak of yourself", he added, his voice tainted with disbelief.
"But I only speak the truth, you told me in the garden you admired that." She stuck out her hands for him to see. "Look.....my fingers are full of needle pricks, I stab myself all the time."
Erik took her hands. He could see the small needle pricks on her fingertips. But he was still not willing to let her put herself down. That girl had no self-esteem. He was all too familiar the signs, he mused.
"I am not skilled in the art of sewing", he told her with a smirk, "but I can imagine that such incidents are bound to occur. It is not a sign of clumsiness. And certainly not one of ignorance", he added. "Danielle... I do not know who put these ideas in your head, and I have not known you for very long, but I can see that you are a charming, natural young woman, a rare treasure. I wish you could see yourself for what you truly are", he finished.
"You are too kind to me and you do not have to be, Erik."
Again, their eyes met and an almost deafening silence fell between them.
It was then that she truly noticed how strikingly handsome he was, mask or no mask. She was intrigued by his lips, how full they were when parted slightly as he breathed deeply through his mouth. His hands….how large, yet so gentle when they held her hand. His eyes…how they could seemingly change from a soft, kind gray/green to dark and mysterious…like they were at that very moment. What could a man be thinking to make his eyes turn like that?
She stammered, then looked away and coughed slightly, "Perhaps we should begin the lesson?"
Erik decided to drop the subject for now. If she was to be home by five, indeed they should begin immediately. He offered his arm to her. "Let me take you to the ballroom", he invited.
_______________________________________
Alone together, they stood in the middle of the ballroom, looking at one another.
"So, what should I do?" She asked.
Of course, she already knew what to do. She knew how to dance, but had not danced in nearly eight years. She mused to herself at how long it truly had been. But of course, Erik would not....must not ever know that. Secrets like that, when revealed, often open the door to more, deeper hidden ones. Ones she was not prepared to bring to light. No, not with a man whom she would only spend two nights with.
Erik saw the shadow in Danielle's eyes again. More than ever he was intrigued by the air of mystery surrounding her. In all appearance she led a quiet existence, yet he sensed that secrets lay deep inside her, locked away. He hoped that one day, she would choose to confide in him. Perhaps she would even think of him as a friend.
Perhaps.
He sighed, then stepped closer to her. He coughed to hide a sudden wave of embarrassment, then opened his arm. "Put your left hand on my waist, and your right hand.... here", he instructed, taking her right hand in his. He then pressed his other hand at the small of her back. He inhaled sharply. He had not yet been this close to her and her delicate scent swirled around her.
He looked down at her as his lips curled slightly in an almost nervous grin.
She did as she was told and returned the smile.
The valse....she laughed inwardly at the innocent way he was starting her out so simply, she found it sweet and charming.
"I suppose it would be easier with music, but we shall have to do without for now. The valse is easy and requires little or no skills. And it is the basis of many, more intricate dances. Simply draw a square with your feet, and just follow my legs. When I step back, you step forward. Are you ready?” he asked, the smile never leaving his lips.
She nodded, impressed with his instruction. She did know the valse, but she was still a bit rusty.
Erik began slowly, his long legs moving expertly, and he found that Danielle was following him, almost perfectly in tune with him. He was pleased. She would be a natural.
Soon they were dancing together to the silent symphony in his head, gradually pulling her closer and closer to his body. Her frame was small and delicate, yet she felt strong in his arms. Soon, he felt her body against his, her firm breasts pressed against his chest and he gasped.
Relieved her body seemed to instinctively remember the steps, she relaxed and fell into a rhythm with his body. Cheek to cheek, she could smell his scent and inhaled it deeply, gratefully. He smelled wonderful. So long she had gone without....so long.....
And when her lips brushed against the collar of his shirt, she didn't stop. It just felt too right.
His heart thudded in his chest as he felt Danielle's incredibly soft cheek brushing against his. Instinctively, he pulled her even closer to his body and he leaned his head in, his lips stroking a delicate patch of skin at the base of her ear. She was so soft .... He closed his eyes, his breath warming her skin.
She gasped when she felt his lips against her and in automatic response her hand clutching his shirt around his waist for support. She would grow faint, she was sure of it. But, she did not, although, slowly, more and more sensations that she had fought for so long began to rush back into her mind like a massive flood. She wasn't sure she could be strong enough to stop it.
Erik's body responded to her touch and he felt the familiar, hot sensations in the pit of his stomach, creeping lower until he groaned. He dropped her right hand and moved both of his arms around her waist, holding her tightly against him. His mind whirled, need poured over him.
Her eyes closed hard as her body begged to be touched more, much more. Her lips wished to be kissed. She needed for his hands to caress her body, to fulfill that burning desire she had kept so tightly tucked away in a lonely part of her heart.
Engulfed with passion, she looked into Erik's eyes and whispered breathlessly, "Kiss me..."
Erik's hands clutched at the small of Danielle's back and his eyes turned even darker with barely contained desire. He licked his lips, gasping at her simple, yet fervent request. "Oh God yes...” he breathed before pressing his lips against hers. He did not notice that they had now stopped dancing. He inhaled, then deepened the kiss, feeling their lips parting slowly.
In a rush of desire, her arms flew around his neck, pulling him even harder against her neglected lips, crying out softly. He felt so good, his strong arms around her, pulling to him, the heat coming from the both, tremendous. How could she possibly express what one kiss was doing to her? How could she tell him that in one moment, he has caused her to live again? Not sense......
Her mind froze.
Richard.
It was exactly how it began with Richard Dupré, Madame Dupré’s eldest son. Just a kiss and she was hopelessly lost. She gave herself to him, mind, soul.....and body. Her first true love.....and her last.
No, she could not let that happen again. She would not give her heart to another man and allow it to be broken.
"No...." she cried, her lips still against Erik's. She pushed herself away, both hands on his chest. With the back of her hand, she swiped at her lips as if she was trying to rid herself of the taste. "I.....I am sorry, but I cannot.....we hardly know....." she began to back away. The world was closing in around her, and fast.
Erik immediately felt the shift in her body and her sudden cry lifted the veil of desire from his mind. He felt disoriented for a second as his eyes finally opened in time to watch her wipe her lips.
He was horrified to see her suddenly turn and flee from him, yet he found the strength to run after her. Surely, she was not disgusted at his appearance, she had not even tried to lift the mask, she could not...
He caught up with her at the door. "Danielle, no... I am sorry, I should not have...” he pleaded apologetically, his lips still wet from their passionate embrace.
She faced the door, refusing to look back at him. "Let me go, please, I must leave." Her words were followed by the chime of Erik's clock. Two o’clock. Too early to leave, but too dangerous to stay. She frantically grabbed for the knob but gasped when his hand grabbed hers.
“Talk to me…” he pressed his lips against her ear, but kept his body away.
“I….cannot….” That is when she began to cry. Shaking off his hand, she turned the knob and opened the door, running out into the foyer.
He reluctantly let her go. He had no choice; she was not truly his wife. He shut the door and leaned against it in defeat, cursing himself for his impetuousness and lack of self control, his body still throbbing from intense desire.
Danielle ran for the front door....
To hell with this arrangement, to hell with everything….she cried.
….she got only a foot from the door when she crashed into Lacie.
“Owww!” the maid wailed, the basket of clean linens from the laundry falling to the foyer floor.
Danielle cried out, “I am sorry Lacie…” but had no intention of remaining to help pick them up. She again went for the door.
“Danielle, what is wrong?” Lacie grabbed her around the waist in a hug.
“Please, I want to go home!” she cried.
“No, no come with me…you cannot leave like this….” Lacie held her firmly and walked her out of the foyer and into the first guestroom.
“What happened? Did Monsieur Erik hurt you?” she asked softly once she shut the door behind her. She couldn’t fathom her Master harming Danielle, but why else would she be so upset?
Danielle could only shake her head before collapsing onto the bed, with Lacie close behind, stroking her hair.
“Then what is it? You know you can tell me anything…I only want to help.”
She looked up into Lacie’s eyes. It was then she began to speak and once she began….she found she couldn’t stop.
She told Lacie everything.
Chapter Seven:
An hour later it was all out.
Danielle had talked and cried so much over that period of time that she was sure she didn’t have another drop of moisture in her whole body. Lacie stood to fetch her a glass of water from the bedside table, but saw the brandy bottle instead.
That would work.
She brought the glass of amber liquid to Danielle and she swallowed it without protest, that is….until she realized it was not water.
Coughing, she fought for her breath and finally squeaked out, “What was that?”
Lacie laughed, “Brandy. I thought it would calm you better than water.”
That, Danielle couldn’t argue. She did feel rather warm. And tired.
Sensing her need to rest, Lacie stood up from the bed and began to leave the room quietly, but Danielle shot up again.
“Lacie?”
“Yes?” she smiled.
“Do not tell Erik anything, please. Promise me?”
Lacie turned back to her, regarding her with confusion. “Do you not think he should know? After all, you are going to be encountering…..”
“No. If all goes well, I shall not see him. Besides, Erik has already agreed to address me as Madame Renault, not by my first name. This arrangement is for two public engagements, nothing more….then I shall return to my life….and Erik will return to his.”
“But…”
“Please! Do this for me…swear it on the soul of your father…then I know you will not betray my trust.”
She frowned, but agreed. “Yes, I shall swear to you, on the soul of my father, that I shall not speak a word to Erik about what you have told me here today.”
Danielle fell back onto the bed and let out her breath. “Thank you, Lacie.”
“Rest now.”
“Yes, I will need it. Please, wake me by four o’clock, I cannot be late going home.”
“I shall.”
And with that, Lacie closed the door, softly smiling to herself.
Yes, she had promised not to tell Erik, but she had not promised to keep it from Emma.
And everyone knows…..Emma never keeps anything from Erik.
It might have taken an hour for Danielle to tell her story to Lacie, but it only took Lacie twenty minutes to relay the same story to Emma, who until then had been refolding the linens that Lacie had dropped in the foyer.
The older woman gasped in shock as she placed the linens away. “That explains so much, the dear woman.”
“Yes, I know, that is why I had to tell you. Monsieur Erik should know but I had made a solemn promise not to tell him myself, that is why I came to you.”
“And as well you should have, child….thank you. Where is Danielle now?”
“Resting in the
Emma closed the linen closet and looked at Lacie thoughtfully, “Then I have only a short time to talk to Monsieur Erik.”
Erik sat in his music room, his fingertips barely stroking the mother of pearl keys of his grand piano. He smiled softly. Though the keys were cold, they felt as smooth as Danielle’s cheek.
He had not intended to come in here when he left the ballroom after a distraught Danielle had fled from the room to escape the desire they felt for each other. He had wanted to run after her, but thought better of it. She needed space, and he needed to think. He was on his way to his library, his sanctuary, his one place of refuge, when he passed the ornately carved mahogany double doors of his music room. He had stopped, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was sitting at his piano.
It had been months since he last played music in there. Music brought back painful memories, memories of a love gone terribly wrong, of deep hurt and sheer madness.
Erik always thought that if he could help it at all, he would never play again. He was a businessman now, and had worked hard to bury the artist deep within the dark recesses of his spirit, never to see the light of day again.
Yet, he was here, now.
He stared at the keys for a long time after lifting the piano cover. Emma came in here despite his orders, he mused, for not a speck of dust could be found on the expensive black lacquered instrument.
Danielle.
He pressed harder on the keys and he gasped as the soft melodic sound of one of his earlier arias drifted around the acoustic walls of his room. As he played, his thoughts turned to the soft spoken yet mysterious young woman again. What secrets lay within her? He found himself needing to know. He closed his eyes. He did not need to see. In fact, he kept his room dark, his drapes pulled tight against the afternoon sun, three candles from the candelabra on his piano the only illumination in the vast room. Immediately he saw her soft features in his mind and he sighed as he played.
He had feelings for her.
The revelation surprised and scared him, but he could no longer deny it. She was just a sheltered, plain-looking, scared little thing who had accepted his proposal only because she needed the money. He smiled. She had certainly not been shy about making that fact quite clear. But as he had sat with her and shared his meal with her, he had seen the spark in her bright, intelligent eyes, the rose high in her cheeks as she smiled at him, and the clear sound of her shy, but genuine laughter.
She was not plain, she was beautiful. And when he kissed her in the ballroom, holding her delicate body close to him as they danced, the taste of her lips made him dizzy. They were so, so supple and the fresh taste of honey drew him in. He wanted more, his body demanding, then craving to touch her, to caress her silky skin and to give her the pleasure he knew she had yearned as much as he had. He had felt it to the very core of her being. Yet, she had fled, but his need had not abated. He suspected that it would only grow from now on, until they could finally be together. And they would be. Of this, he was sure.
His eyelids fluttered at the memory of her touch and his body followed the rhythm of his aria, the intensity mounting until he swayed softly, almost hypnotically, his fingers moving effortlessly over the keys. The music was gentle yet tainted with an underlying passion that he had not intended to be heard through the notes but could not even think to stop.
He swayed, soon losing himself in his beloved music and his heart thundered in his chest. He felt liberated, the floodgates opened and he knew at that very moment that they would never close again.
Then slowly, softly, seemingly out of the darkest passages of his imagination, a voice spoke….
“Monsieur…?
“Danielle?” he gasped, his eyes flying open as his fingers halted on the keys. He turned his head to see her, to gaze upon her lovely features.
But it was not her.
Emma…
“Monsieur, we need to talk….”
Chapter Eight:
Erik shook his head, abruptly brought out if his reverie by Emma, who stood
by the door rather impatiently. He signed, then
quickly closed the piano cover with a loud noise. He did not take well to
being interrupted in his music room, "Yes, Emma, what is it?" he
offered flatly.
She jumped at the loud sound he made in his irritation, then gathered her breath. Clutching to the side of her long
wool skirt, she walked inside the music room, taking it upon herself to lock
the door behind her. Now was not the time for interruptions.
"I apologize, Monsieur, I heard you playing. You have not
played in some time. But...I have some information about Mademoiselle
Danielle that you need to hear and I, in good conscience, feel it should not
wait a moment longer."
Erik tried his best to hide his intolerance. Not at Emma's
interruption, but at the mention of Danielle. He was going to finally
learn more. He furrowed his eyes and imperceptivity moved forward on his
bench, his hands resting on his thighs. "Is that so," he said,
hoping his casual tone would hide his haste, "then I guess you had better
tell me now." He regarded his trusted maid, his eyes glistening.
Her eyes glanced toward the leather couch at the other end of the room
and she slowly moved there, then she stood by the tall, leather chair, her
hands clutching the back of it as she waited for Erik to join her and allow her
to sit.
This would not be something she could say standing up.
Erik followed her with his eyes and understood her non verbal
message. He took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to the opposite
side of the room in long, unhurried strides. "You may sit,
Emma", he said, gesturing with his hand for Emma to take a seat on the
rich, buttery leather couch. He then joined her and turned his body to
face her. "Now, speak", he said firmly, yet gently.
Sighing to gather her thoughts, she spoke strongly, "Mademoiselle
Danielle has not left the house as you first thought, she
is still here, resting in the
That took him by surprise, he was sure she had left.
Fiddling with her skirt, she continued, "Lacie took care of her and
Mademoiselle Danielle spoke of her troubles to her. Of course, Lacie could
not come to you as she made a promise to keep silent, but she came to me,
knowing I would come to you."
“I see. And what did she tell Lacie?” His impatience grew by the
second.
Again, she took a deep breath. "Monsieur, Mademoiselle
Danielle was once involved with Madame Dupré’s son, Richard.”
He regarded Emma incredulously. "Involved? To
what degree?" He inquired.
She blurted out, "They were…lovers, Monsieur."
Erik's mouth dropped open as he put two and two together. So this
was the reason why she was so insistent on being called Madame
Renault. His blood ran cold at the thought of another man even remotely
involved with Danielle. What was he thinking? He barely knew this
woman, not really….and here he was….jealous?
Bloody hell.
Emma’s words rang in his head. Were. They were
lovers, meaning the affair had ended and not on good terms, he
suspected. He looked at her again. "I imagine there is
more. Go on.”
"Yes, Monsieur, from what Lacie could piece together...the poor
dear was rather distraught...the affair happened about a year after her Mother
had died. She was out one day, picking up material for the shop when she
met Richard Dupré. He was waiting outside by his carriage while his mother was
inside another shop." She took an additional breath, "Knowing his
place in society, she pretended to be from
Erik listened intently, drinking every word. "Then if
everything went so well... what happened?" he asked, leaning slightly
closer to Emma.
"She was working behind the counter in her shop one day when
Monsieur Dupré came in. She said he looked almost wild-eyed and very
uncomfortable. He told her that their relationship was over and that he
had chosen to marry someone else. She said she asked him why…what changed
his mind, but he only replied that his mother was insistent on him being
married, and she simply was not good enough to be Madame Dupré. She was
devastated of course...."
Erik's eyes widened and he stood up abruptly. "What prompted
his decision? Surely he would not just decide one day that that she was
unfit to be his wife!" He started pacing, his fists clenched at his
sides.
"She told me that later on that night, her father had come to her,
angry…very angry. He said that he had gone to Monsieur Dupré and tried to
forward an engagement, only to be told that she was.....unclean…no longer a
virgin. Apparently, Monsieur Dupré had taken Mademoiselle Danielle’s
virginity, under the guise that they would marry."
His eyes widened with sudden rage.
She sighed, looking at Erik, "That was his exact word,
‘unclean’.
Erik turned on his heels and slammed his fist on his piano, the chords
vibrating within. "So that is it. He just discarded her after he
had his way with her", he hissed. His eyes
narrowing into angry slits. "Spineless coward", he
boomed, "does this man have no sense of honor?"
he asked her rhetorically. “She is not a mistress to be toyed with and
discarded….she has feelings! She was lead to believe they would marry.”
"Yes, Monsieur, it would appear so. Now, you see, she is afraid
that if she is addressed as Danielle, if Monsieur Dupré is there, he might
recognize her and of course, you know what would happen if she was
recognized....." Emma stated matter of factly, knowing what she
would say next would both mystify and elate her Master. "She told
Lacie....she would suffer penniless before she would allow you to suffer
humiliation in any way. After all....she has… feelings for you..."
Erik stood rooted in place as Emma's words fell upon him.
Dear God in heaven!
So what he felt earlier was true. His heart jumped in his chest and
he smiled despite himself. "Feelings", he said to Emma,
returning to sit next to her on the couch. "She said that?” he asked,
almost afraid that he had heard incorrectly.
"Yes." She returned his smile.
Erik nodded and looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. A
nagging thought crept into his mind, an all too familiar feeling he wished he
could push back, but could not.
Pity.
What if what she felt for him was pity? Of course, she had
not said anything about his mask and had not seemed repulsed when they had
kissed earlier, but... Christine had kissed him. And she had still called
him a monster.
Emma knew by the look in his eye what was bothering him. She softened
her tone and addressed him kindly, "Monsieur....she asked Lacie about your
mask."
He looked up at her sharply. "What did she say? Do not
spare me," he said softly, “I must know.”
"Lacie only spoke of what she knew. You have always been
generous to all of us, giving us the choice to view you without your mask in
order for us to make the decision to stay. Lacie told her what we all
know.....that your face is badly disfigured." She momentarily looked away,
but then looked back and continued, "Yet, in light of what Lacie described
to her, Mademoiselle Danielle's feelings did not change, although I do believe
she has questions."
He studied his head maid very closely. She was not sparing him,
just as he had asked. "Of course she would", he
agreed. "Danielle is intelligent and inquisitive, she would want to
know".
"Perhaps she will ask, in time, in her own way."
"And she will see me for who I am, if she so wishes", he
responded. He felt relieved, but he still had many questions of his own
about Richard Dupré and the way he quite obviously hurt Danielle.
Emma stood, "Of course, there is more that she said in her sadness,
but that is for Mademoiselle Danielle to tell, not I. I only came to
inform you of Monsieur Dupré, given the upcoming party."
She walked to the door, gripped the knob and unlocked it, then turned
back to Erik. "Lacie will be waking her soon,
shall I have her brought to you here?"
"Yes, please, if she so wishes, of course". He looked up
at her and smiled faintly. "Thank you for coming to me, Emma.”
She smiled brightly at him, "Of course, Monsieur."
And with that, she left him alone, again.
_______________________________________
Erik sat on his couch for several long minutes after Emma had
departed. His mind was still processing all the information and he was
confused, angry and strangely happy, all at the same time. Tapping his
fingers on this thigh, once again he found himself drawn to his piano, the keys
beckoning to him.
He moved to his bench and lifted the cover, his eyes closing as he
splayed his fingers on the milky white keys. After a long, drawn out breath, he
instinctively chose another one of his concertos, one he had composed in his
cellars at the opera house. A lifetime ago, it seemed. But of course
he remembered the notes, each and every one of them.
But this time, it was not Christine that he saw before him, but Danielle,
her shimmery, strawberry colored hair appeared
on fire against the candlelight surrounding them. Emotion poured out of
him, from his heart to his fingers and he played with more and more intensity.
He was dancing with Danielle but this time, she was
not fighting the desire that vibrated through every fiber
of her being. He felt her clutch at him, seeking more.... more of his
burning kiss, their tongues dancing to the same languid rhythm as their bodies,
more of his touch as he held her so close against him that he felt her heart
beating against his chest, her nipples hard and aching against his heated
skin….
Erik took a deep, halting breath as his hands pounded the piano keys,
his body throbbing and pulsing. The music grew louder and louder and was heard
through the entire house now.
Danielle had risen no more than a few minutes earlier, her mind cloudy,
hearing music….or was she? She concentrated hard, trying to pinpoint the
source of the beautiful piece. It was almost hypnotic, but intense in its
resonance. She slowly slid off the bed and walked out of the Rose Room,
allowing her ears to guide her closer….
Erik started swaying along with the music that he had passionately
composed, the melody coming so fast into his mind that he barely had time to
commit the notes to paper, gritting his teeth with eagerness.
He felt the same driving impatience now as he felt his
arousal pressing against Danielle's flat stomach, digging into her, hard and
demanding. It was so clear in his mind that he no longer saw himself at his
piano, but in the ballroom with her, his hands sliding along her body, seeking,
learning every curve of her feminine form.
She finally came to the entrance of Erik’s music room, her hands running
along the cool but dark mahogany wood of the door as she pushed it open ever so
slightly. There, in the darkness, with only a three-flame candelabrum to
illuminate the room, she saw Erik, sitting at his piano. His hands flew
masterfully over the keys, playing with a fire and passion she had not yet
seen. She had only heard through rumours, and through Lacie’s own lips of
his genius in music, but this was the first time she had witnessed it for
herself.
He gasped out loud and he pounded at the keys even
harder when, in his mind, Danielle whispered in his ear, her voice a faint but
assured breath, "take me, Erik"....
…he groaned as he pulled her down on the floor, laying
her gently on the hardwood floor. He moved to lay over her, his weight
covering her, yet she did not seem to mind as her trembling fingers opened his
shirt. He heard her soft moan as her hands sought the burning heat of his
skin and he lost all control. He kicked her legs apart, grinding himself
against her and he felt her surge toward him, her legs twining with his. He
slanted his mouth and crushed his lips to hers, his fingers removing the clip
in her hair…
With the pounding drive of the music at its apex, Danielle found herself
frozen, transfixed and unable…unwilling to move. Her eyes closed and she
felt herself almost swoon with the music as it washed over her body…and she
fell against the doorframe.
Erik's concerto reached its culmination and his fingers flew over the
keys, abusing them and he swayed and swayed, a strand of slick hair falling on
his forehead.
He gripped the edge of Danielle's gown, sliding up
until it was bunched around her waist. He raised his hips long enough to touch
her silky undergarment and he pulled his lips away from hers, their mouths wet
and swollen from their bruising kisses….
Erik's sharp mind was brought out of his fantasy by the sound of the
door creaking. He stopped playing, his fingers unmoving over the keys and
panting heavily.
Oh dear God, no.... he thought.
He shut his eyes.
Someone was there, watching.
Danielle gasped loudly as she was jolted by the sudden ending of Erik's
playing. She held her ground, though she was apologetic.
"I am so sorry, Erik. I did not mean to interrupt your
playing, please....continue, I shall not disturb you."
She turned and tried to leave, hoping he would continue, for she truly
wanted to hear more.
"No!” he called out, but did not dare stand up. "Please
come in", he asked, looking up at her.
She turned back to him and walked inside rather
apprehensively. "If you are sure I am not disturbing you...."
He slammed the piano cover shut. "You are not, Danielle, I am
delighted that you have not left yet. Please have a seat," he
motioned toward the leather couch.
She walked over and sat down as he instructed, nervously staying on the
edge of the seat and placing her hands on her lap, her back straight as an
arrow.
"That piece was magnificent.....what was it?" she asked him.
He shrugged. "A piece I composed a long time ago. I am
surprised I still remember", he replied. He hoped she would not ask
further questions.
"It appears you remembered it quite well," she laughed
softly.
She looked down and a long silence fell again before she finally spoke,
"Erik....I apologize for....." her words stammered harshly.
He sighed. His desire having abated somewhat, he stood up and
walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. He took her hands in his,
caressing her fingers with his thumbs and shivered slightly when his knees
brushed against hers but he did not let go of her hands. He looked up into
her eyes, holding her gaze.
"There is no need for apologies....Danielle". Her name
was a low whisper in his throat.
"But", he clutched her hands, "perhaps there are things
you need to be telling me". He searched her eyes, his eyes soft and
reassuring.
Her body visibly slumped as she felt his hands on hers.
Oh god....how could he be so understanding,
unless….he…?
"You know....don't you?"
He nodded slowly, but kept his eyes locked with hers, and his thumbs
caressed her fingers comfortingly.
"I have been told", he continued softly.
Suddenly she jumped up and paced around the room, "She had no
right! No right at all! She promised me…and on her father's very
soul! She betrayed me!" With a fire and vigour she didn't know she
possessed, she headed for the door, determined to ring Lacie's
neck. "When I get my hands on her....."
Erik rose from the couch and reached Danielle before she had time to
even make it to the door. He slid his body between her and the carved
mahogany, his hand gripping the bronze doorknob.
She stopped cold, knowing his physical strength outmatched hers two
fold. Groaning, she turned away from him and walked to his piano, pressing
her hands on it so hard they turned white.
"What did she tell you?" she refused to look at
him. Surely Lacie had not told him everything....not about the dream.
The dream.....
It had been so vivid the night before that she'd awakened in a cold
sweat, hardly able to catch her breath. So real she could almost taste him
on her lips, still feel the weight of him on her small frame. So intense,
she was sure she'd cried out and awakened her father. But she’d risen to
find her him still sound asleep.
No, Lacie couldn't have told Erik.....that?
Erik's body relaxed and he pressed his back to the door. "She told
me about Richard Dupré", he stated simply. "What he was to you
and... what happened". He moved away from the door to stand behind
her. He touched her shoulders and sighed when she made no move to push him
away.
Her eyes widened in realization. "That is all Lacie told
you?"
“Lacie did not tell me, Emma did.”
“What?” Emma? How did she….?
“Lacie told Emma, and Emma told me.” He stroked her shoulders and he
breathed in the scent of her hair. It smelled of freshly cut flowers and
it made him smile. He turned her so that she faced him and their eyes
locked. "And no, I know nothing more. You shall have to tell me
the rest of your story, but only if you are ready.”
The relief she felt surely showed on her face. Lacie had not
betrayed her most intimate trust after all, but she could not help but be
disturbed that she spoke at all, especially about Richard Dupré.
She swallowed hard, her lips just inches from his. How she wanted
to taste them again. But....no.....she would not give in to temptation.
"What do you wish to know about Richard and me? Our
relationship ended so long ago and I have not seen him since."
He slid his hands from her shoulders to her hands and held them against
his chest.
"And you are afraid to see him again", he said, “that is why you were so adamant about being addressed as
Madame Renault, and not as Danielle Renault.”
"No..." she answered quickly, "...yes....perhaps, I do
not know. It has been eight years and I have changed, physically,
mentally. There is no guarantee that Madame Dupré would recognize me, as I
only met her once…but Richard…what if he is there? I mean, what would he
say if he saw us together, as man and wife? He knows I am not....of
status....which I would have to be to be married to you. He could expose
you....expose us as a fraud. I do not want that to happen, I would
rather....." she looked down and chose not to speak further.
Erik pulled her hands up to his lips, brushing a soft kiss on her
fingers. "I do not care what he thinks. We could have met
secretly, and we could have decided to marry quickly, somewhere far away from
She lost all thought. At that very moment, she could agree to
almost anything, just as long as he looked at her like that....touched her with
his lips like that.....
"I do not know how it all happened, but I..." He took a
deep breath, willing himself to continue. "I cannot bear the thought
of anyone hurting you the way that man did. Because I care for you so much
I can scarcely breathe…" He panted softly, looking down at her,
searching her eyes.
She inhaled sharply, hardly believing what she heard, "You....care
for....me?" She shook her head, "How can you, after hearing what I’ve
done? I am.....I am....nothing, Erik. Unworthy of any man....do you
not understand that?"
He shook his head. "Why would I understand that? It is
nonsense, Danielle. I know you do not see it. I know you have been
trained to believe you are unworthy of happiness...” he urged, "but…you
must promise me one thing....” He still held her hands against his lips,
and waited for her answer.
"Yes?" At this point, she would promise him the moon.
"Promise me you will let me teach you how to be loved,
Danielle. Promise me?" he asked earnestly.
And with that, in one moment, his words gave her hope, hope she could
love again….
Her eyes filled with tears and with it, she gave a small laugh
of....dare she say it....elation? She looked at the handsome, kind hearted
man who wore a mask, whose own memories of lost love made him as lonely as she
had been….and she had been willing to show him the way…
With
a nod of unspoken promise, she touched his cheek and replied, "And here, I
was going to ask you to do the same thing for me."
Chapter Nine:
Someday I’ll fly away
Leave all this
to…yesterday…..
The next morning came all too quickly and Danielle scrambled to make breakfast for her father, after an early morning delivery to the shop took longer than usual.
The night before had been a rough one. She had sat and spoke with Erik far longer
than either of them anticipated. Not
that she minded, of course, she was completely fascinated by his tales of times
he spent in
Erik had remained calm. He called upon his driver, Jacques, to bring her home and inform her father that the carriage had broken a wheel and took time to repair, thus forcing the late hour of her arrival. She had not been sure that it would work, but she had to try something, anything….she knew if she didn’t, her father would make good on his threat and not allow her out of the house again.
She recalled the scene vividly, how nervous she was, wringing her hands as she sat alone in the carriage, while Jacques told her humorous jokes to try and make her laugh. She did laugh, until the carriage pulled up in front of her shop and she saw her father practically run out. He threw the door of the carriage open….
“You are more than an
hour late, where have you been, girl?” he had growled at her and Danielle felt
herself begin to sink, then stopped herself and with a glance from Jacques,
straightened herself up again.
“Answer me! Do you realize just how much trouble you are
in?”
“Monsieur, please do
not be angry, it is not the Mademoiselle’s fault.” Jacques had spoken up in her
defense. He jumped down from the top of
the carriage and came to Danielle, taking her hand and helping her out.
Jean-Pierre started
for Jacques, looking him up and down, “Young man, I suggest that you hold your
tongue or I shall find other uses for it.”
“Father!” Danielle shouted.
She stopped cold, her
mouth flying to her hand. She had never
raised her voice like that. Yet, she
could not have him speak that way to Jacques, even if it was a ruse.
Jean-Pierre turned
sharply to Danielle in shock. He studied
her, then studied Jacques, wondering what could prompt
her to speak up in defense of a man she seemingly met only that day.
“What did you say to
me, girl?” his voice dropped.
Before she could
reply, Jacques interrupted, “Monsieur…please understand…the
wheel of the carriage had broken on the way here. I had to fix it. I apologize for the late hour as Mademoiselle
did tell me she would be late….”
“A broken wheel?” her
father asked.
“Yes, Monsieur…”
Jacques gestured toward the right front of the carriage. Jean-Pierre moved to
investigate, bending over and looking closely at a large black area where the
wheel had obviously been repaired with some sort of tar.
He stood and
groaned. Loudly. Jacques shrugged his shoulders and she felt
her father’s almost debilitating stare. She was proud of herself for standing
tall on her own, but still trying to appear much disheveled for the sake of the
deception.
“Get inside, Danielle,
I shall settle up with the driver.”
She did not hesitate to do as she was told. She had to prepare dinner and thankfully, Evelyne had been kind enough to agree to market for her the previous day, so that morning, she had started a pot of roast and vegetables to cook on the stove all day in her absence.
The meal was spoken in thankful silence and, leaving Danielle to do the dishes, Jean-Pierre retired for the night to his room to do the books. She did not dare speak to him, did not dare ask if he was angry or if she would still be allowed to leave that next afternoon. She hated silence though, hated that uncomfortable tension, yet…she surmised….silence was better than his anger.
So, within a half hour of the shop opening that next day, Jean-Pierre sat at the table, sipping his coffee in one hand, tapping his fork against the wood impatiently with the other, watching Danielle toast his bread before spreading home made strawberry jam.
When she finally sat the plate in front of him, he sighed and began to eat without another word to her.
She prepared her plate and sat down next at the table across from him
Silence again, just like last night.
Or so she thought.
“I heard the door earlier downstairs. Who was it?” Of course, Jean-Pierre knew who it was. He had seen the handsome delivery man and had also seen, with distress, his daughter’s reaction to him. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries. Something that he had not seen in quite some time.
“A delivery man bringing the material Madame Lamoureux requested for her gown.” She answered simply, keeping her head down and picking at her food.
“I see.” He answered simply.
“I heard the bell and decided not to bother you, as you were shaving.”
She could sense something was wrong and she cringed, aware of how she had acted towards the delivery man. She had not been flirtatious, merely kind and considerate as anyone would, but it was not in her nature. Normally, she would have called for her father to receive the deliveries, even if he was not presentable. Yet, strange as it felt, she was also surprised at herself for actually interacting with another person without prompting from another or permission from her father. She could not wait to tell Emma, knowing she would be proud.
And she truly wished that Erik could have witnessed it as well.
Her father, on the other hand, was not pleased.
“I saw the way you acted with that young man.” His voice was low and icy.
“I was friendly, Father. Nothing more, I assure you.”
“You found him attractive.”
“I did not notice.”
“You smiled at him. You made pleasant conversation.”
“Am I not supposed to, Father?”
He narrowed his eyes. She had never behaved this way before. He did not like it, not one bit. “First the carriage driver, now this delivery man. If I did not know you so well, I would say you were becoming quite the socialite.” His words seemed innocent, yet his tone was tinged with venom.
Although she kept her head down, she could feel his gaze shoot daggers through her. “Father, the carriage driver could not have been over twenty-one, and as for the delivery man, he has been here before and Evelyne knows he is married.”
“I did not ask for your opinion on their age or marital status. Do not answer the bell again, is that understood?”
Her head shot up and she met his gaze. “Why? Is it not bad business to keep anyone waiting? Even if it is a delivery?”
He laughed loudly, mockingly, “Why? You ask me why? You? You! Of all people to decide to grow a backbone. My dainty, quiet daughter, who scurries like a rat every time the lights are turned on? I am quite taken aback! I would like to know what Michelle is filling your head with. I am beginning to think you are spending far too much time with her, with her and whoever else might be paying a call. That is it, is it not?”
She gasped, but not for the reason he thought, “Please, Father…”
“Please, Father…” he groaned, his fist pounding the table, “That is all I ever hear from you!”
She jumped and when she did, he took a deep breath, his
facial expression going from anger to patronizing. “Danielle, my dear. Must I keep reminding you? You know what you are, what you have done,
the sins you have committed against God, against me. I only tell you this, my dear, to spare you
the heartache of rejection over and over again, as any decent man in all of
“We were engaged to be married, he told me….” She had told him this a thousand times already, still hoping one day he would finally believe her.
Jean-Pierre stood up and looked down at her, throwing her a most distasteful look of pity. “Dear foolish child….” He shook his head, “…still, after all these years are you blind. I have told you over and over, he had no intention to marry you. He was already engaged to Mademoiselle Catherine. You were only his mistress. For the sake of your sanity, child, wake up!”
Surprising even herself, she stood up and faced her father. “You are wrong! I was young and naïve, but I know what he told me. I am not unclean…or damaged. I was used, yes, but that is not my fault, it was his!” she practically screamed at him.
Her swift outburst was met with a hard slap to her face, throwing her back into her chair. She grabbed her stinging cheek, her mouth gaping in shock and tears forming in her eyes.
He stood over her, unapologetic, his tone eerily cold and controlled. “I am sorry to have done that, Danielle, but you were in hysterics. Apparently, you are losing your sense of place in this household. I assume you will not let it happen again.”
She shook her head.
“As punishment for your sudden, albeit short act of defiance, you shall not be allowed to return to Michelle’s tonight, or for that matter, any other night. It seems as if she has become a bad influence on you.”
Danielle opened her mouth to protest as he began to leave the room and he shot her a harsh glance. She chose not speak.
When he left to go down to the shop, she ran for her room and threw herself down face first onto her bed, screaming angrily into the pillow.
It has been eight years since he’d laid a hand on her, not since the night that he found out she had given her virginity away to Richard Dupré and he’d refused to marry her. Then, like now, he had been unremorseful for his actions. Since that day, she’d been careful not to be defiant enough to warrant another one of his harsh reprimands.
Until today.
She messed up. She should not have said that to her father and now, because of it, she would not be returning to Erik. Everything she’d worked for would be for naught. Guilt washed over her.
She could see Erik, standing outside his home as the carriage returned empty. She could see his disappointment, confusion, sadness as Jacques informed him that she did not show. His heart breaking as he would have to endure the cocktail party alone, to face Christine de Chagny…alone.
Oh, Erik, forgive me….
That is when she finally sobbed.
Jules Bernard created a huge breach of etiquette by walking into Erik’s library without being invited. He walked straight for Erik’s desk, “Monsieur.”
Erik looked up sharply from his daily paper, his eyes narrowing. Something must be wrong, Jules never came inside without permission.
This was Monsieur Bernard’s second visit that morning. The first one came just after sunrise to report to Erik what he had observed the night before after following the carriage to Danielle’s home. Erik had been most pleased that his plan had worked so flawlessly and had given Jules a second order to observe Danielle in the shop another couple of hours, to make sure there would be no problems with her leaving on time to return for the party.
Now he had returned… much sooner than expected. “Jules?”
Jules took a deep breath, “Monsieur, forgive the intrusion, but I have additional news that could not wait.”
He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk, “Report.”
Jules sat down in the chair and relaxed slightly before speaking again, “Monsieur, I was able to make it up to the second floor apartment through a fire escape. I observed Mademoiselle Danielle and her father engaged in a heated conversation. Apparently, she took a delivery in the shop without his permission. He accused her of being too friendly and he berated her.”
“Friendly?”
“Yes, Monsieur, but I observed her with my own eyes, she was courteous and considerate, nothing more.”
“And how did her father berate her for this?”
Jules continued on, describing the fight in detail, including seeing Danielle being slapped. That did not settle well with Erik. He stood from the desk and began to pace.
“That is it, send Jacques to pick her up…now before the party. She will not return.”
“Monsieur, you know that would only make things worse…”
“I do not care!” he interrupted.
“Monsieur, please, think. I am sure there is a way to bring Mademoiselle Danielle here without incident.”
He growled. He could barely think. The man had no right to assault his daughter, no matter what she might have said to him. Despite it all, he could not help but smile thinking about how she had actually spoken up to him.
“And Monsieur, I am sorry to report, he has told her she was not to go back to her cousin’s house tonight, or any other night.”
Again, he growled even louder. “Not acceptable.”
“On the way back here, Monsieur, I was thinking, perhaps we could send a messenger to the Durand house from her cousin, requesting her immediate presence. Didn’t Mademoiselle Danielle say that her cousin was with child?”
“Umm…yes. Perhaps the cousin, Michelle is her name, has taken to further illness. And she has sent word to Danielle for help.”
“Yes, I believe it might work. Monsieur Durand is a hard man, but perhaps he would not turn down the request, if it appears she is very ill.”
“Or perhaps in labor.” Erik added.
“Yes of course.”
“Then take care of it as quickly as possible.”
Jules nodded then rose from his chair and walked toward the door. He turned back around and said softly, “I found out this morning that the de Chagny’s arrived last night. They are expected to attend the cocktail party as promised.”
Then he slowly walked out the door.
Erik sighed, then turned towards the window.
Christine, his
Christine…
He had not given her much thought since meeting Danielle and for that, he felt a bit ashamed. After all, was this deception not for Christine’s sake?
Or was it now suddenly all for his?
By lunch time, Danielle had been watching the clock so much it did not appear that the hands even moved, but they had. Six hours. In six hours, Erik would know she would was not showing. It killed her inside, tore out her heart… piece by piece.
Since that morning confrontation with her father, she had not spoken to a soul. She came down to the shop and straight for the back to continue work on Madame Lamoureux’s gown, thinking that if she finished it two days early, it might put her in better graces with her father.
Evelyne, a kind woman of forty-five, was the closest Danielle had in her scant thirty years, to an older sister. With a husband and four children of her own, she considered Danielle and Jean-Pierre part of her family. While Jean-Pierre was kind and fair to her, never raising his voice, she knew how he treated Danielle. She always appeared to be blind to it, but she was not. She was very aware and simply could not understand why someone as kind hearted as Danielle would be subjected to such treatment.
She stood over Danielle now, watching her as she sewed almost frantically, yet every few stitches, looking up at the clock. Danielle had told her everything, about the cocktail party, the inauguration, the deception, and especially about the mysterious man in the white mask named Erik Renault.
“Why do you not take a break to get something to eat? I can work on the gown for a few minutes.” She supportively touched Danielle’s shoulder.
Danielle looked up at Evelyne and smiled appreciatively. “Thank you. I could use a bowl of leftover stew and bread. Would you like anything?” she asked her.
“Yes, I would love some st….”
“Danielle!” Jean-Pierre’s voice boomed throughout the shop. Both women jumped. “Danielle, get out here, now!”
Placing the dress on the table, Danielle threw a glance at Evelyne and ran out of the back into the shop.
“Yes, Father?” she said before he could raise his voice again.
Jean-Pierre was there behind the counter. In front of the counter stood a man wearing a hat pulled slightly down over his face, he wore a messenger’s uniform.
“You have a message.” Jean-Pierre told her, rather huffed.
She walked over to the counter and the messenger handed her the slip of paper.
Opening it, she began to read silently, making her father lose even more patience. “Read it out loud, girl…I swear, sometimes you do not have any sense.”
Stammering, Danielle began reading again.
Michelle has gone into early labor.
Please come to her immediately.
Will be waiting for your arrival.
Madame Souvigny.
Danielle gasped, “Oh no! It is too soon, the baby will be at risk.”
Jean-Pierre grumbled, “Let it be. Fitting for all the trouble she has caused.”
“Father!” she raised her voice, not really meaning to, but truly, that was a heartless thing to say about an unborn child.
He snorted and turned away.
She looked his way and finally caught sight of the messenger. He raised his hat and bowed slightly, making Danielle gasp again.
Monsieur Bernard….
He winked and she sighed. She knew Michelle was alright.
“Please Father, Madame Souvigny is waiting for me.” She played along.
“I can handle the workload, Monsieur Durand.” Evelyne spoke up as she walked from the back and put her hand on Jean-Pierre’s shoulder. “Is not the health of your niece more important right now?”
He glared at Danielle, then back at Evelyne and addressed her only. “Fine. But she must be home no later than tomorrow morning, first light. No excuses, no broken carriage wheels….is that understood?”
Danielle sighed, “Thank you, Father.”
“Do not thank me…thank Evelyne, for you will compensate her for working overtime.”
Both women relaxed as Jean-Pierre threw a coin at the messenger and left the shop, the door slamming hard, making the bells ring.
Jules smiled as he turned to make sure Durand was away before turning back to Danielle. “Jacques is at the corner. I shall await you at the bottom of your fire escape.” He spoke to her pleasantly.
Evelyne’s mouth dropped, prompting Danielle to laugh. “This is Monsieur Bernard, Erik’s assistant, Monsieur, this is Madame Evelyne Piret.
Jules bowed, “Madame.” Then looked at Danielle again, “Pack all that you cherish, Mademoiselle, Monsieur Erik does not intend to have you return here.”
And with that, he left the shop, letting his words sink in.
I shall not return?
Chapter Ten:
She looked over at Evelyne and gave her an almost helpless shrug.
“I suppose you should start packing a bag then.” Evelyne told her.
Danielle embraced her warmly, “But, not return? What about the shop, the orders….what about Father?”
“Do not concern yourself with that,” she held her close, patting her long hair, “I will finish the orders, I shall even bring in Nathalie to help me.”
Nathalie….Danielle had almost forgotten that Evelyne’s eldest daughter was almost fourteen, just the same age she had been when she began working in the shop.
A long breath seeped from her lips, her eyes rolling back as she grinned. One obstacle taken care of, “That will be wonderful, please just be sure she is paid something.”
Evelyne smiled, “I will compensate her.”
But the worst was yet to come, “And Father?”
“He will be angry, very angry of course, but perhaps you should send word to Michelle, to be aware he might go there looking for you.”
She gasped, “Michelle….oh yes, he would certainly go to look for me at her home, then he would harass her terribly.”
“You know as well as I do that she is rather sensible and can tell your father that you had left the day before and she does not know where you are. Actually, it would not be too far from the truth, if you do not disclose your whereabouts to her.”
“Umm…I suppose. Yes,
before we leave
Evelyne shook her head, knowing it would take much longer than a few days for Jean-Pierre to calm down.
Danielle turned and headed up the stairwell to the apartment. Yes, she would return, of that she was certain. Erik had agreed to twelve thousand francs to be given to her after the inauguration, almost five thousand francs more than what the shop owed in back rent and other expenses. More than enough to hire another seamstress, at least part time and pay her until the shop turned a profit, and also keep Nathalie, if she so desired, paying her a part time wage for weekend work.
As she entered the apartment and ran for her bedroom, she heard Jean-Pierre behind the door of his room among the sounds of papers shuffling and his grumbling about expense books. She slowed her pace, removed her shoes and was careful to walk cautiously past his door. Once she reached her room, she closed it softly, then began to pack.
________________________________________________________
Emma stood in the foyer and watched Erik pace around like a caged animal on the front steps of his home. In her arms, she carried Danielle’s gown, newly arrived from Madame Boudreaut's dress shop. She also carried a fresh supply of towels, new bath soaps and three bottles of perfume, all purchased by Erik earlier in the day after he had sent Jules on his mission. She sighed, feeling compassion for his longing, but gave a slight smile as she walked up to the Rose Room, on the second floor, to make the room ready for Danielle to take up residence.
As the carriage began down the long, cobblestone drive towards the house, Danielle could see Erik from her window as he stood in wait. She gasped in delight at his tall form, the white mask gleaming in the bright sunlight. She was much happier to be back with him than she had first thought.
The carriage stopped and Erik did not wait for Jules to exit first before throwing the door open and holding out his hand to Danielle.
“Mademoiselle, it is wonderful to see you again.” He said politely, with controlled excitement. No need for everyone to see his elation so soon, he mused.
She took his hand and exited, “Thank you, Monsieur, I am glad to be here once again.”
Jules stepped out behind her and stood smiling, first at Erik, then up to Jacques, who gave a silent chuckle. Both men watched as Erik took Danielle’s hand and led her into the house.
“Pleasant day, is it not?” he asked her once they were in the foyer.
“A lovely day, I hear there will be no rain for tonight’s party.”
“Yes, a thankful blessing as this is usually the time for spring rains to fall.” He replied, walking her into the library.
He shut the door tight, locking it before turning back to Danielle.
She could only smile and give a small laugh. Actually, it was all she had time for before Erik took her in his arms.
“I have missed you.” He whispered as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair.
With her arms securely around his neck, her hands clutching at his hair, she could only reply softly, “I have missed you too.”
He pulled away and cupped her face with his hands, examining her closely. At first he did not see any lingering mark of her father’s assault, but on closer inspection, he spotted a small cut in the corner of her mouth. He chose not to speak about it just yet and instead, feasted upon her lovely face and intoxicating eyes.
“Did you have any trouble getting away from your father?”
“Oh, no, not at all. I packed up and left through the fire escape. Evelyne covered for me. I dare say that it was a clever ruse, for he suspected nothing.”
“That is good to hear. Then you do not mind that I brought you here so soon?”
Her mouth curled in a slight smirk. That was indeed a silly question.
“No, I do not mind, although I have some questions.”
He walked her over to the couch and together they sat down. “Please ask…I expected you would be curious.”
She looked deep into his eyes, “Why did you bring me here so soon?”
He knew that would probably be the first question she would ask him, but still, it had not prepared him for the answer. His mind fought the debate….tell her that he had sent Jules to spy on her, tell her it was simply because he wished to see her again before the party, or make up something entirely new…..
Yet, he had always promised he would never deceive her.
And he was not going to start now.
“Erik?” she touched his hand.
“My apologies. I was not sure how to give my answer, in a way that you would understand, and not feel….uncomfortable.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, “Uncomfortable?”
“Yes. You see, Danielle….” He placed his hand over hers, “Jules bore witness to what happened to you this morning, with your Father.” With his other hand, he caressed her cheek, his thumb stroking the dried blood of her small cut.
Immediately, she gasped, her hand flying over his.
“Yes, I noticed it.” He told her.
She looked down, taking a moment to gather herself before replying, “And why was Monsieur Bernard there?”
“I had initially asked him to follow you home last evening, to make sure that the plan I had set up would work and you would not be in danger from your father. Once Jacques had left, he observed you both through your shop window. When it appeared he was not outwardly angry, he left. He reported to me very early this morning.”
“I see.” She looked away, unsure what to think. “That explains last evening, but not this morning.”
“Yes, once Jules gave me his report, I sent him back to observe you this morning. He arrived in time to see you take a delivery in the shop and then he followed you as you went up to your apartment.”
“So he saw that, and the fight? How did he get inside?”
“He watched it as he stood on your fire escape.”
She gave a gentle laugh, “Oh, of course,” before turning serious, her brows furrowing, “Why did you have Jules watch me the second time?”
Erik stood and walked over to his desk, tapping his fingers nervously on the wood. “I do not know exactly, but I can only offer this explanation. For years, I roamed the Opera House. I knew everything that went on, from the managers, down to the women who did the laundry, nothing escaped my knowledge. When Christine came into my life…she was a young child….I watched her, protected her, kept her safe. I knew everything she did, her friends, her rehearsals, when she slept, what she ate….” He paused and turned to her. “Danielle, I suppose, in a way, I simply wanted to know these things about you. I apologize if that offends you in anyway, I truly do.”
“Then why not come to me and see for yourself?”
He smirked. “Dearest Danielle, can you not see why that would be an impossibility?”
“I can imagine that if you had seen my father angry, that would anger you…”
“….that is only part of it.” He interrupted her. When she did not answer, he continued, “If I had seen you…alone….especially if you were in a state of…shall we say, undress….I know that my body would not have held out, I would have succumbed to most overwhelming urges.” He stopped before he said anything more, seeing her expression change.
Her face softened as she met his gaze, yet she did not blush. How honest he was! For that, she was grateful. “Perhaps a wise decision.”
“So now, do you understand why I sent Jules in my stead?”
“I can understand your reasons, yes. In fact, there are things about you that I wish to know. Things that I was not sure I would be able to ask.”
He walked quickly back to the couch and sat down, “Please, ask me anything.”
She took a deep breath, knowing how hard it would be to make
such a request. He had spoke of many
things the night before besides
“Lacie told me the story surrounding your mask, why you wear it.”
“And she described what was beneath it.” He said softly.
“Yes she did.”
“But, you are still curious.”
She nodded.
He sighed deeply, his hand grasping a pillow close to him.
“I do not have to, Erik, if you….”
“Ask me, Danielle. If you ask, I will not deny you.”
She whispered, “Erik, would you remove your mask for me?”
Her request was kind and to the point, nevertheless his mind was still apprehensive. Up until this point, he’d hidden behind the safety of his mask, hoping she would never ask to see beyond it. Hoping he would never have to face it himself.
He remembered Christine’s first reaction to his face. Her mouth gaping widely, her eyes as big as saucers, her frail body shaking, tears down her cheeks. It was almost too much for him to bear.
But this was not Christine. Danielle had not ripped it from him, she had asked and he had observed her compassionate eyes. Yes, she would understand if he backed out now.
Yet, at this point, he would not, could not deny her anything.
He nodded, then took her hands and placed them on either side of his mask, “Perhaps, you would prefer to do it yourself?”
With a warm smile, she nodded, but waited for him to gather himself before proceeding. “Whenever you are ready.”
He nodded and closed his eyes.
Slowly she removed his mask and immediately became grateful that he had closed his eyes, for she would have been most upset for him to view her first reaction. It was as bad as Lacie had described, in fact, it was a bit worse than she had imagined. She could understand why he kept it covered. Yet, for as bad as it was, it didn’t change the way she felt about him. It was merely skin, an outer shell. Inside one’s heart and mind…that was what counted, an important lesson her mother taught her early…. And that was the Erik she was feeling from deep inside, the intelligent, strong willed, handsome, passionate man she had come to know over the past couple of days.
After hearing no outward audible gasp or scream, Erik opened his eyes and could see the slight distress in Danielle’s eyes as she studied him. He inhaled sharply as he felt her fingers on his bad cheek.
“Oh, I am sorry!” she exclaimed, pulling her hand away. “Does it cause you pain?”
Emphatically, he shook his head, “No no, you misunderstood. It does not hurt, it is just that….well…it does not get touched often by anyone but myself.”
“Even Emma?”
“No. Although she truly wishes to mother me on occasion. I simply prefer to tend to it myself.”
She giggled in relief, picturing Emma trying to corner Erik in his bedchamber to do something motherly like take his temperature or clean behind his ears.
He took her hand and replaced it upon his cheek, his face turning serious. “You may touch it all you wish.”
Her fingers examined each inch of disfigured flesh, trailing over lines, curves, indentations, feeling the contrast of rough and smooth, hot and cold, rigid and soft. Her gaze became intense, so intense that she hardly noticed that he was drawing her closer, closer to his waiting lips…until she felt them on her cheek.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. What a wonderful sensation of his soft lips against her cheek and his cheek against her lips. She kissed his cheek, showing no disgust, no reservation. She knew, if his cheek had hardly been touched, then it certainly had not been kissed much, if at all. She wanted to ask if Christine had done such a thing, she had to know; she had to know if she was the first.
“Tell me no one has kissed your cheek like this.” She whispered against his skin, the soft breeze from her mouth making him shiver.
Erik thought of his mistresses. Three of them there were currently, none of them ever seeing his face. None of them ever requested. He knew from this day forward, he would never see those women again, much less take another. No matter what happened with Danielle….no one would compare to her, nothing could possibly compare to this.
“No one has, Danielle.” He whispered. His hand found her hip and slowly slid it downward, feeling the curve of her body and stopping at the middle of her thigh, gripping and kneading her firm flesh.
A moan seeped from her lips and before she could put another thought together, her mouth pressed against his in a deep, intoxicating kiss. Erik lifted her leg up, pulling her closer to his body and throwing her leg around his waist. She could feel him pressing himself upward against her and she panted in between kisses, her legs tightening around him, her fingers twining his dark hair.
“Danielle…” he whispered against her lips. He did not need to speak another word, she knew what he felt and she shared it.
Undeniable passion.
A knock came to the door and with it, a loud, frustrated groan from Erik as he pulled away from Danielle’s lips. He waited, not speaking, eyes half closed, surely whoever it was would give up and go away.
But it was Emma and she would not go away. She’d seen Danielle arrive and knew she was alone with Erik in the library….and most importantly, she knew what they were probably doing. She had to get Danielle out of there and begin her preparations for the party.
She knocked again, this time with a bit more force.
“It is Emma, I am sure of it.” Erik whispered, his body screaming as he continued to hold Danielle close. He throbbed against her, still raining small kisses down her neck.
Her head fell back and crooked to the side to give him every inch of skin she had, her eyes closing shut hard, her breathing increasing.
A third knock. No, Emma was not going to go away.
“Ignore her.” Danielle almost pleaded. If anything, Emma was certainly tenacious.
“I do not think she will not go away. I am sure she is trying to get you away from me.”
She moaned in response, “Why on earth would she…?”
“She is doing what any woman who has a maternal instinct would do, trying to keep you….from being corrupted…” he nuzzled her neck, as his fingers unclipped her long hair, letting it fall down over her shoulders, “…from falling for my…charms.”
That did it, she became completely undone, “Erik…” her voice squeaked out, it was the best she could do.
Again their lips met, even as the pounding of the door appeared to get louder and louder, more anxious with each passing minute. Moving his body slightly, he leaned forward and laid Danielle down on the couch, his body moving over hers. With his long legs, he moved her legs slowly apart and settled between them. The tension almost unbearable, he moved against her and in response, she moved her hips upward to meet him, all the while, their mouths still tasting, teasing, tongues darting in and out, sliding along and against one another.
Emma had been knocking for a good five minutes and it was getting most frustrating. This time, she finally spoke with her knock, “Monsieur! I know you and Mademoiselle Danielle are inside, please open the door, it is becoming late and she needs to prepare for the party!” She called out.
Despite the intensity of his passion, his sensible side took over. He looked at the clock.
Four o’clock.
Yes, they still had much to do.
Sighing, he looked down at Danielle, who….it appeared….had also had a sensible awakening.
“She is right, you know, I must prepare.” She said, her voice still hoarse with desire. She had come so close, so close to giving in to her temptations.
She did not know whether to thank Emma….or to slap her.
Erik rose carefully, oh so carefully with a groan. That made Danielle laugh despite the situation. She sat up to get her bearings, then rose to her feet and straightened her dress, then her hair.
Her cheeks were red and very warm. That, she could not easily hide.
“Go…I will need to be alone for a few minutes.” She heard his husky voice behind her, his fingers trailing up her dress, grazing the back of her knee.
She shuddered under his touch, “If you do that, I shall not leave.” She informed him sternly.
He stopped and her body screamed for more.
She chose not to look at him as she headed to the library door. A prudent choice, for if she saw his eyes, she would lose all remaining self control.
Erik replaced his mask as he watched Danielle exit the library.
It took him more than a few minutes before he could leave himself.
_________________________________________
A quarter after six and Erik was pacing in the foyer. Again.
He was ready, had been for a half hour and all that was left
was for Danielle to emerge from the
He heard the door open and two women talking softly. He stiffened and straightened his dark suit.
“The dress fits you perfectly, Mademoiselle…” he heard Emma say.
“It is the most extraordinary gown I have ever seen. I do not have such talent for creating gowns such as these; they are truly works of art.” He heard her reply, their voices coming closer.
Then he saw her.
Gasping, he slowly took in the sight of her in the deep peach colored
gown, adorned with white ribbons and lace imported from
Her hair was pinned up in soft ringlets, with only a few strands falling at the back and around her face. Woven in the ringlets were pieces of peach ribbon that hung down behind her and tiny flowers that were nestled inside.
“It is only a work of art when you wear it.” He breathlessly managed to say to her when he composed himself.
She stopped and her eyes cast upon him. His dark suit was so perfectly tailored to fit his tall frame that he towered seemingly like a statue in the foyer. He wore a dark red silk vest and a perfectly pressed white shirt and black silk cravat. He was not wearing a jacket and did not turn her gaze away to look for one, but envisioned that it was also probably black, very smartly tailored as the pants.
And of course, the cape. Her mind could visualize him in it, as it flowed around him and billowed out as he walked with long strides, the night sky at his back...
She shook her head in wonder. He was truly breathtaking. “You look so handsome, Erik. You will make quite an impact.”
That is an
understatement, silly girl…
“With you on my arm, I know I shall.” He paused to put the right words together before speaking again. He did not want to mess this up. “Danielle, you are truly....a lady.”
Then he bowed before her as he took her hand and kissed it.
A lady…She gasped, then blushed, feeling like a princess before a ball.
“I…I do not know how to respond to that…other than, thank you.”
“You do not have to say anything, but please, come with me.” He began to lead her toward the music room.
“Where are you….?”
“Your ensemble is not complete.” He simply told her.
She looked back at Emma with a shrug.
Emma simply smiled.
Erik entered the music room and shut the door after Danielle. Then he turned to her, taking both hands in his. “I wished to make sure that you were truly ready to do this.”
“Yes, I am ready.” She said with no reservation.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, I believe we have covered all the guests, what we will be eating for dinner…and of course, your warning about Monsieur Mancia.” She snickered playfully. Monsieur Mancia was certainly going to be an interesting character.
“Very well. I wish you to know that Emma has been instructed to place an envelope on your bed, it contains your money. You will have it when we return home.”
“But you said….”
“Yes, I know what I said, but I also….well…Danielle…Jules also accessed your books.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. She wanted to know how, and why, but for the moment, she knew… he knew just how bad it was.
“You know then?”
He nodded. “Yes, I had no idea just how bad things were for you. You do not need to wait an additional three weeks for your money. Take it tomorrow and pay off your debts, Jules will accompany you and help you invest the rest back into your shop.”
She could only smile. Then she shook her head, “I…”
“No. No talk of this tonight. Besides, as I said, your ensemble is incomplete.”
“Incomplete?”
From his pocket, he produced a small velvet box. “I think there is something here that might improve the situation.
She observed it closely, “What is it?”
He opened the box to reveal a ring. The most beautiful, emerald cut, solitaire diamond ring she had ever laid eyes on. And probably the largest.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.
“I asked my old friend, Louis Chopard, to make this especially for you. He made my gold pocket watch and his work is exquisite. I wanted something beautiful, but not too overstated. Your hands are delicate and a larger ring would overwhelm it, so I felt that four carats would be perfect.”
Overwhelm it? She could not help but laugh to herself at that one.
He removed the ring from the box and took her left hand. “I, Erik Renault, take you, Danielle Durand, for my fake wife….” He chuckled slightly, his eyes glistening almost childlike in his humor, “in sickness and in health….in richer and much richer…”
They both laughed at that one.
“…forsaking all others, until the inauguration do us part.”
As Danielle smiled brightly, he slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit. She expected nothing less.
“It is amazing, Erik, thank you. I promise I shall not damage it or anything.”
“You can do anything you wish with it, it is yours.”
She almost choked. Hers? That, she had not expected, especially considering Monsieur Chopard was only known for designing elegant pocket watches, not rings. Surely he would wish to keep it.
“I thought….I mean, it is not necessary…”
Erik smiled down at her and spoke firmly and with finality. “No, it is yours.”
She knew not to question further.
He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. She was as ready as she could ever be.
Chapter Eleven:
Madame Dupré's home sat on boulevard Haussman, just off the avenue des Champs Elysées in the huitième arrondissement, one of the most exclusive and luxurious parts of Paris. Danielle had never even dared enter this part of the city in the eight years since she last accompanied Richard and she now remembered why. She suddenly felt a wave of panic wash over her as the carriage passed inside the gates of the estate, waiting just behind a small trail of carriages carrying additional guests. Her hands shook, her mind became full of doubt.
She did not belong here; she knew that much if nothing else.
And what if Richard Dupré was there? Jules had assured her that Richard was not on the guest list, but was he not Madame Dupré’s son? Surely, he would not need to be on the guest list to attend.
And what of Madame Dupré herself? Would she recognize her even after so many years? She had changed a bit over that time. She was much thinner, probably from years of nervous tension around her father. That had to be the reason, considering she was sure that in the past three days of eating the fine meals Emma put before her, she had to be putting on a bit of weigh. She knew she was much paler, for she hardly went outside anymore. But tonight, on Emma’s suggestion, she was wearing just a hint of rouge to, as she put it, ‘accentuate your already rosy cheeks’. She had loved hearing that, something her own mother had often told her. She had rosy cheeks too.
She thought of her mother again. She could see her clear as glass, sitting in her favorite rocking chair by the window, embroidering a dress, smocking an apron…always with a smile, a pleasant word. Many times she would sit with her and together they would sing, songs she’d learned as a child and was happy to pass along to her only child....
But that was so long ago…Oh, Mother….
How she wished she was there to see her in her beautiful gown, to have helped her with her hair, chatting about anything and everything.
Though, she adored Emma. She had chatted with her, telling her all about Erik and how she had come to be in his employment. Told her about finding Lacie. Told her about how it was no longer a secret that Lacie was enamored with Jacques, something Danielle had seen early on but kept silent. They had laughed, and they had also been open and honest. She’d confided about her mother, her father, her closeness with Evelyne and Michelle. Yes, she had found a true kinship with Emma and knew Emma had developed a definite maternal bond, she would be friends with Emma, very good friends, but she missed her mother. It simply was not the same.
Erik leaned forward and touched her hand, noting the distance in her eyes.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I suppose I am just….”
“Nervous?”
She chose not to go further into the subject, so she just smiled slightly, “Yes.”
“It is not too late to back out, I can still go in alone.” He assured her, although in his mind, he was praying she would stay. He truly did not want to face the party alone.
Danielle knew this, of course, and shook her head, “I will be fine. Do not worry about me.”
“You remember the story to tell people about how we met?”
“Yes, I do. I like how you included your mother’s friend Marie in the story. She seems like a very kind lady.”
“Yes, very kind. She did what my mother never did. Gave me love and understanding, even when she was fearful of me.”
“I would love to hear more about her… and your childhood…Boscherville sounds like a lovely place.” She said wistfully.
“In time, I will tell you these things, then perhaps…I shall take you there one day, show you the church and my old home.” He was cautious not to push anything with her, considering he had not planned anything further after taking her into his home.
The carriage pulled to a stop as she said, “I would love that.”
He kissed her fingers as he looked at the ring on her finger, “Then it shall be done.”
Their carriage was the last in line. Erik had of course planned it that way, as he wished to make a grand entrance, having Monsieur Mancia there to announce him. If anything other than Danielle on his arm was to be the highlight of his evening, it would be seeing everyone’s shocked faces as they found out the Opera Ghost was their majority shareholder.
--------------------
“So, how do you feel being back in
Christine sipped on her glass of wine as she admired the flowers that lined the stone terrace. “I am very pleased to be back, Madame Dupré. Most of my years were spent here and I found that I miss it more than I realized.”
“Do you plan on staying indefinitely?”
“No, just until after the inauguration and opera in three weeks, then Raoul and I shall return to our home.”
“I see.” She looked inside and observed the young Vicomte as he laughed and spoke with the other guests.
Christine looked as well, noting how he took particular attention to one Mademoiselle Dupré, Madame Dupré’s youngest daughter, a scant few months short of her nineteenth birthday. She inhaled, took a healthy swallow of her wine, and continued to walk.
“Madame?” A voice called from the terrace’s entrance.
“Yes,
“All the guests have arrived and been announced, except for the majority shareholder, the mystery man that Monsieur Mancia promised. He is awaiting you before making the official introduction.”
“Of course, I shall be in shortly.” She replied, then huffed a bit as she turned to Christine. Their chat would have to wait, duty called.
“Come, dear Vicomtess, let us meet the mystery guest.
----------------------
Erik and Danielle stood alone in the small parlor, out of the way of everyone until the formal announcement. Danielle looked around the room, musing to herself that it was still as small, pretentious and stuffy as when she had first sat alone there with Richard. She wondered if anyone even bothered to come in here except to dust, as it appeared that nothing had changed, or had even been moved.
Meanwhile, Monsieur Mancia looked over Danielle closely, shocked. “I still cannot believe you are married,” he grumbled at Erik, “why didn’t you tell me you had been married for nearly six months? I had been to your home at least three times and….”
“Considering how you treated my female servants, I found it best not to introduce you to my wife.” Erik sneered back. “Besides, the first time you visited, she was visiting her aunt in Boscherville.”
“And what about the second time?”
He pretended to think pensively, “If I recall, she was in town, shopping.”
“And the last?”
“Emma was instructed to keep her occupied in her sewing room, far from your roving eyes.”
Monsieur Mancia laughed deeply as he looked hungrily at Danielle. “Umm…wise decision, for she is a rare peach.”
Danielle lowered her brow as she took a step back closer to Erik, and he pulled her to him protectively.
She mused to herself how Erik had not lied when he warned her to not be in the same room alone with Monsieur Mancia, for she now understood why.
Erik stiffened and said coldly, “I would be careful if I were you, Monsieur Mancia, I have killed men for less than what you are doing this very minute.”
Snorting, Mancia turned and continued to pace.
Only then did Danielle relax.
But Erik did not.
Within minutes,
----------------------------------
Mancia entered the grand ballroom and shut the doors behind him. He walked to the small podium that Madame Dupré had prepared for him and stood on it, looking out over the guests. He observed the large crowd of over one hundred, scrutinizing….everyone was there that was involved in the opera house….all five shareholders and three investors, both Monsieurs Firmin and André and, standing in the back next to Madame Dupré, the Vicomte and Vicomtess Raoul and Christine de Chagny.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called out and waited for everyone to turn to him.
When they did, he spoke again, “It is my privilege to announce to you the mystery man who has succeeded in bringing a profit to the Opera House, even in the midst of reconstruction. A man of true vision, a man whom, with his intelligent architectural insight, has sped up that reconstruction, allowing us to open a full two months ahead of schedule….”
The guests applauded softly, appreciatively.
“…..and four hundred thousand francs under budget.”
The guests laughed, then applauded once more.
“So, without further delay, I present to you our majority shareholder and principal investor, Monsieur Erik Renault!”
With a sweeping gesture of his hand, the door opened and Erik, with Danielle on his arm, stepped inside the room to the sound of almost thunderous applause.
Until, they saw the mask.
Like a wave, an almost eerie silence fell.
The recognition dawned on everyone.
Small gasps rose and chatter could be heard amongst the stunned guests…..
It’s the Opera
Ghost…It’s the Phantom…Murderer….Angel of Hell…
Erik only smirked in silent satisfaction.
The guests turned immediately to Christine, who was standing awestruck, her mouth wide open as Raoul’s face flushed with anger and shock, his fists clenching. They had both been sure that Erik had died in the Opera House fire. Seeing him tonight was the last thing they ever expected.
Erik didn’t notice Christine at first, turning to Danielle instead and giving her a soft smile, mouthing to her, “Are you alright?”
She returned the gesture and nodded.
“And by Monsieur Renault’s side this evening, is his wife, Madame Da…” Mancia stammered, remembering Erik had strictly given order not to use her first name. Danielle’s heart skipped a beat as he corrected himself, “Madame Renault.”
Another hush, followed by a second round of whispering chatter rose as they all looked to Christine, anxious at her reaction.
The word wife slammed into Christine’s heart like a rushing wave. Wife? She looked up at Raoul who said to her, “When did he marry?” Obviously a rhetorical question for they both knew the other didn’t have the answer. She shrugged helplessly as Madame Dupré left their side to address Erik and Danielle, and to break up the tension that had grown thick as fog.
“Welcome to my home, Monsieur and Madame Renault….I am honored to have you in my home.” She approached and offered her hand to Danielle.
“Madame Renault, what a lovely gown…who is your seamstress?” she asked, hardly looking at her face, to Danielle’s relief. But, she had yet to speak, that was the next hurdle. She inhaled softly and threw caution to the wind.
“Why, Madame Boudreaut, of course.” She answered simply, yet elegantly, but with a touch of stuffiness.
“Ah yes…she does the most remarkable gowns, I should have recognized her work. It is lovely to have you here tonight, my dear.” Madame Dupré answered and Danielle took a breath. It appeared she had not been recognized, at least so far.
“Thank you, I am happy to be here in your lovely home.”
Oh yes…the same Madame
Dupré….
Compliment,
compliment, compliment…she eats it like candy…
That brought a delighted giggle to Madame Dupré’s lips as she turned toward Erik. He took her hand and kissed it. “Madame Dupré, so nice to meet you.”
“So lovely to meet you, Monsieur Renault, please…mingle and meet my guests.”
With a grand flourish, she turned and left Erik and Danielle alone.
Holding tight to Danielle’s hand, he asked her, “Are you ready to face everyone?”
“Yes.” She told him.
Then she saw her.
Christine de Chagny, she was sure of it from Erik’s detailed description. She stared at her as she made her way hurriedly through the crowd…right in their direction. Her dark brown hair was pinned back tightly, her face…her young face, Danielle noted….was slightly pale, her lips ruby red, encasing her shocked, gaping mouth.
Erik noted Danielle’s expression change, and in following her eyes saw Christine coming towards them.
She was alone.
His eyes widened in shock, his heart leapt into his throat, threatening to deprive him of his very will to breathe. How she had changed! He could hardly believe how, in one year’s time, her face, as well as her body, had matured. She had grown into a woman, in every way. He could hardly wait to touch her, speak to her, be in her presence once more.
As Christine came closer, she could see Erik’s expression change from cool satisfaction to elation. She smiled, then let the smile fade just as fast, knowing she did not want Raoul to see her react this way. But truly, she was happy that Erik had not died. Unbeknownst to Raoul, and everyone else, she had not forgotten him. Many nights she recalled their last meeting in the dark cellars of the opera house. How much he’d loved her, yet she still left with Raoul. She had broken his heart, his spirit and she was having trouble dealing with the guilt. But seeing him again, successful, seemingly happy…
…and having a wife? That truly bothered her.
When she reached him, they both stood silent, staring.
It was Danielle that broke the silence first, “Vicomtess, it is lovely to meet you, I have heard so much about you.”
Christine bowed slightly but never moved her gaze from Erik, “From Erik?” she answered.
Danielle coughed, “Umm…no, he has never mentioned you, I am afraid. I was referring to the Époque. It spoke of your return and the coming Opera, La Prophète.”
Christine glared right at Danielle, lowering her brow, “Oh, I see.”
Danielle felt catty and petty, but could also feel herself laughing inside, amazed at her own behavior. Was she actually… jealous?
She saw Erik’s face, his eyes glistening and she answered her own question…she was jealous.
“It is good to see you again, Christine.” Erik said before throwing a glare at Danielle. She blushed, but turned away to hide it. Why was he suddenly so upset at her comment? He was here, after all, to show her up, right?
“It is great to see you, Erik. I was afraid that you… umm...” she paused, not wishing to discuss anything of their past in front of his wife.
Erik could sense it and looked at Danielle. “Perhaps, you could excuse us for a few moments?”
Her eyes widened bigger than china plates. Leave? She had not anticipated that they would be separated. Her eyes pleaded with him, but his gaze focused back to Christine. His mind was made up, whether she agreed or not.
“Uh, yes of course….but…” she said.
Erik had taken Christine by the arm and led her away before Danielle could finish her sentence.
She was alone and she did not like that, not one bit.
And it became worse when she spotted Richard Dupré enter the room.
-------------------------------------------
Richard Dupré was a very tall six feet seven inches tall, much taller than the majority of men that loomed around the ballroom at his mother’s home that evening. He always felt he could tower over anyone and jokes were all around eight years ago when he married Mademoiselle Catherine, who, at a scant five foot three, barely reached above his chest. Yet, for the size difference, they were a happy couple, parents to two lovely daughters.
He had not intended on arriving for the party, but after
Madame Dupré informed him of the arrival of Christine de Chagny, Catherine, a
former singer herself, had insisted upon meeting her. They had arrived earlier in the day from
their home in
By this time a group of people had surrounded Danielle, at Madame Dupré’s prompting, to offer her well wishes and congratulations, asking dozens of questions, most of which escaped her understanding. Her mind was on Erik….her eyes….on Richard.
He was now sporting a dark beard that encased his long face. His hair was speckled with a bit of premature gray, like in his late father’s portrait that hung just overhead. She was convinced it was Richard. The woman by his side had to be Catherine, his wife. She could not help but smile, a bit relieved that he would be focused on his wife and not her.
Perhaps, she thought to herself, just perhaps he might not notice me…
But she was wrong.
As Richard chatted with a couple of business associates, his eyes scanned the room, looking for the Vicomtess de Chagny before Catherine became too antsy. Instead, he saw a woman on the other side of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of chatting women, fanning themselves against the warm night that blew through the open windows nearby. Something about her made his brows furrow in thought. He knew her; he was sure of it, but from where? With a wave of his hand, he summoned his mother.
“Mother?” he gestured towards Danielle, “Who is that woman?”
Madame Dupré squinted her eyes to see who her son was pointing at. “Who? There are several women there.”
“The one in the dark peach colored gown.”
“Ah, yes! That is Madame Renault, the wife of Monsieur Erik Renault.”
Richard looked deeply at his mother. “Erik Renault? You do not mean the infamous Opera Ghost?”
“Why, yes my son, you know of him?”
“Everyone has heard of the Phantom, Mother. But, what is he doing here?” his eyes scanned the room for any sign of a man in a mask.
“You missed the excitement earlier, Richard,” she giggled in gossipy excitement, “Monsieur Renault is the principal investor and majority shareholder of the opera house now….has been for quite some time, I hear. He was announced officially tonight by Monsieur Mancia.”
“Umm…I would be most interested in meeting this man. Where is he?”
“He has taken the Vicomtess to the terrace, they are talking.”
Richard grinned softly and turned his eyes back to Danielle. “Then perhaps, I shall take the time to welcome his wife instead.”
----------------------------------------------
“So, please, tell us, how did you meet Monsieur Renault? At the Opera House?” Madame Guérin prompted, fanning herself and grinning broadly.
Danielle noted that her grin only served to push her wrinkles further up her face and it made her smile before she replied, “We met in Boscherville. My Aunt Marie and his mother were very close friends, so we knew each other as children.”
“I see. You kept in touch all of these years?” Another woman, the name Danielle could not immediately recall, asked.
“Oh no. We saw each other again ten months ago, when he came to visit Boscherville. I was living with my aunt, caring for her, you see, and when he called on her one day, I was there. We began talking and….” She shrugged sweetly and the women all sighed at how lovely the story was.
“And how long have the two of you been married?” Madame Labordeaux asked.
“For six months. We were married at St-George church in Boscherville.”
“How lovely.”
“Yes. How lovely.” A man’s voice spoke behind the women. Danielle recognized it immediately.
Richard…
The women looked up at him and parted to let him through.
All the color drained from Danielle’s cheeks.
“Perhaps you could make the formal introduction?” he addressed Madame Guérin, but kept his eyes on Danielle.
“Of course!” she replied excitedly. “Monsieur Richard Dupré…may I introduce to you, Madame Renault, the wife of Monsieur Erik Renault.”
He took Danielle’s hand and kissed it softly, “A pleasure to meet you, Madame Renault, welcome to my family home.”
She was rendered speechless, trying to read his eyes. Did he know her and was just pretending, or was he clueless?
Get yourself
together….take your time, you can do this…..
“It is lovely to meet you, Monsieur Dupré, I am honored to be here.” She replied, then held her breath.
“Thank you. And, where is your husband, so that I may formally welcome him?”
She let out her breath, “He is on the terrace, speaking with the Vicomtess.” She replied, then noted the women’s faces and realized she had actually spat out the words with a bit of jealous venom.
Dear God, what was happening to her?
“I see. A foolish thing to do, leaving his lovely wife alone to speak to another. If it is alright with you, I shall go to the terrace and speak to him.”
“Of course, I do not mind.”
Of course she didn’t mind. Maybe it would make Erik wake up and cause him to come back inside with her, where he belonged.
“Then I shall do just that. Perhaps the ladies here will show you around in the interim, allow you to meet everyone properly?”
The women smiled and nodded.
Apparently, Richard Dupré’s word was law and they followed it without
question. He exuded power, a power that
he did not have when his father was alive.
She surmised it was because he was still head of the Dupré house,
whether he lived in
She watched Richard leave as the other women started taking her around the room.
--------------------------------------------
“So you never even left
“
She smiled up at him. “Well I am glad that you did not die.”
“I did not think you cared one way or the other.” He stopped and faced her.
“Erik, I know that I…I left you for Raoul…but it didn’t mean I cared nothing for you. But you must understand, you were…” she shrugged.
“I know. I was much different then. I had lost myself, become obsessed. I let my opera take over my whole life and destroyed my sense of reality and almost my very existence. I tried to force you to live a life away from light, from people…I had no right and you were just in leaving me. In many ways, it woke me up, I truly saw myself for what I was…a monster.”
“You were just sad, lonely, Erik. Never a monster.”
“I was in love.”
She paused and studied him closely. “And now…you are successful…and….happy?”
“Yes.” He answered simply. He could not tell her how empty he’d been without her, not now that she was married to the Vicomte. “I am happy.”
“There you are, Christine, I was wondering where you had disappeared to.” Raoul stood on the terrace and looked at them as they started back from the garden.
“Erik and I were just talking.” She defended herself automatically.
Raoul held up his hand, “I know, darling.” Then he turned to face Erik, “Monsieur Renault.” He said with a slight bow.
“Vicomte.” Erik replied with a slight respectful bow of his own. He turned and looked at Christine.
“We were out here for more than one hour, Raoul. Apparently you didn’t look very hard.” She peeked over his shoulder into the ballroom, spotting Mademoiselle Dupré looking around, she was sure she was looking for Raoul. “Been keeping busy, have you now?” she gestured toward the young lady.
Raoul snorted, “Please, let’s not get into this here…now. I only wanted to tell you that Madame Dupré has been looking for you, they are serving hors d'oeuvres in the ballroom now.”
“I shall be in shortly.” She answered, rather snippy.
Raoul turned and returned to the ballroom, alone.
“Is everything alright?” Erik asked her when Raoul was a safe distance away.
“Oh yes. Simple marital spats that come up, I suppose.” She blew it off. “Perhaps we should go inside now, there are some people I would love to introduce you to.”
Smiling, Erik offered his arm to her again and they went inside.
-----------------------------------------------
Through the other open door, Danielle exited the ballroom onto the terrace, looking around for Erik to check on him and to warn him that Richard was there and was looking to speak with him. Luckily, too many people had taken Richard’s attention over the past hour and he had not yet been able to get away long enough to seek him.
Her eyes glanced over the whole garden, the light from the lit torches illuminating the flowers. No sign of him. She sighed.
More than an hour. Now he was gone. Where in the world had he disappeared to?
He had left her alone. She was feeling isolated, nervous, and most importantly, angry. It no longer appeared to her that Erik brought her here to show up Christine de Chagny, but to get her back! The more she thought about how much she had been used, the angrier she became. She thought back to the last three days. How easily she’d been able to let him get through her defenses, allowing herself to show her vulnerable side. What a fool she’d been! He only wished to make her socially acceptable enough to pass as his wife, so he could make Christine jealous! She fumed, her face scowling.
And it was about to become worse, for unbeknownst to her, Richard was standing behind her, watching closely.
“Hello again… Danielle.”
---------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Twelve:
She froze where she stood, her eyes rolling back as they shut. He
knew! But she was not going to give in so easily. She took a deep
breath and turned to see Richard’s now softened eyes. She had almost
forgotten just how intoxicating they were, how they seemed to just pull her
right in. It truly was one of the first things she had noticed about him
when they first met that Spring day so long
ago. She stiffened herself against those feelings, refusing to allow them
to resurface. They were buried, had been buried since the night he told
her father she was no long acceptable for a wife. And if she had any power
in her soul, they would remain buried.
“I beg your pardon, Monsieur?” her demeanor was purposely cold and distant.
He smiled warmly, “Come now, Danielle…”
“I am sure you have me mistaken for another.”
“If I am, then please, correct me. No one spoke of your first name
earlier; it appears that even my own mother does not know it.” He told her
confidently, making his way out to where she stood.
“I did not give my first name.” she almost stammered.
“Then might I inquire it?”
“If you must, it is Michelle.” She replied without thinking, then winced inwardly. Richard knew her cousin was named
Michelle; he had met her during their courtship.
Smart, Danielle, very smart….
Richard did not flinch, satisfied that this was his Danielle, despite
the bad attempt to give him her cousin’s name. There was no mistaking
her. A bit thinner, a bit paler, but the same eyes that made him fall so
hard for her, the same lips that he tasted hundreds of times. He
understood her reasoning at why she wished to be someone else. She was
married to the Opera Ghost, now a respectable member of
“I see, I am….not…mistaken, Danielle.” He spoke smoothly and touched her
arm. “Believe me, I understand everything. I shall not give away your
secret.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. “What secret is that?”
“That is nothing we should speak of now. It is good to see you
again. You look lovely as always.” His voice was calm and almost
condescending. He certainly did not want her to go into any….hysterics….or
anything like that.
She almost melted at his tone, yet she kept to her story. “Again,
Monsieur, you have me mistaken with someone else. I am not this Danielle
you speak of. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall join my husband.” She
began to leave but he kept hold of her arm.
“And where is your husband? I have been trying to find him for
sometime now and he seems to have….disappeared, if you don’t mind my saying
so.”
“He is in the ballroom, I am sure.”
He let go of her arm. “Please, do not let me keep you from him.”
Swiftly, before Richard could change his mind, she went inside the
ballroom. Her eyes scanned the room as she milled through the
people. They all smiled pleasantly at her and she returned their kindness
with nods and smiles of her own, asking if they had seen her husband. They all replied no.
Then she finally spotted him. He was in the corner of the ballroom,
a glass of wine in his hand, laughing, his eyes focused solely on Christine,
who had locked eyes with him. Chatting light-heartedly, it appeared they
noticed nothing else in the whole room…
…including her.
She quickly made it out of the ballroom and back
into the small parlor, where she sank down
into a chair, her head in her hands.
That is it….
She made her decision. She was leaving. To hell with Erik, to
hell with the Dupré’s and to hell with the stupid inauguration! If he
wished for someone on his arm that night, he would have to ask Christine de
Chagny! She would return to take her money and never see Erik Renault
again. She had done her part. It was now apparent he got what he wanted,
he got his Christine back.
Yet, she could not help it, she wanted to cry. She cursed herself,
almost hearing her father’s voice now, chastising her for her utter stupidity….
How could you fall for a man like that? How could
you possibly expect he would want you? You stupid, stupid, foolish girl,
when will you ever learn? You are damaged….nothing….
“Madame, are you alright?”
Danielle’s head flew up in surprise. “Oh.” Then she concocted
a plan. “It is nothing really, just that I have a bit of a headache.”
“May I bring you something?”
“No thank you. I simply wish to leave early. Could you have my
carriage brought around?”
“Of course, Madame. Shall I inform
your husband?”
“No!” she almost leapt off the chair, “I mean, he already knows. I
told him to remain here, I know he was having a nice
time.”
“I shall have your carriage brought around, Madame.”
Danielle smirked and wondered how long it would take before Erik noticed
her absence.
-----------------------------------------------
Jacques was stunned when he was summoned to bring the carriage early and
even more stunned when he saw only Danielle standing in wait. He brought
the carriage to a stop and jumped down, throwing the door open for her.
“Where is Monsieur Erik?”
“He is remaining at the party.” She informed him flatly.
“Madame, you are leaving….alone? Surely, he would not allow…” He
noted.
“I am not interested in what he will or will not allow. And it is Mademoiselle,
you know that, Jacques.” She said to him, her voice low.
“But Monsieur Erik said…”
“Forget what he said, I am not Madame Renault.” She spat at him,
then climbed into the carriage and said to him before he shut the door, “Just take
me to back to Erik’s house and then wait for me while I gather my belongings, I wish to return to my own home tonight.”
Jacques opened his mouth to question her, but decided it was much
wiser….and safer to just nod and do as he was told.
--------------------------------------------
Christine had excused herself briefly to speak to Raoul and Erik moved
to the terrace to take in the fresh air. The ballroom was just too crowded
for his taste.
It was not long before Richard joined him, having waited quite a while
to find him away from the presence of the charming Christine de Chagny.
“Monsieur Renault.” He addressed him warmly.
Erik turned to him. “Good evening, uh, Monsieur…”
“I apologize for not introducing myself sooner,
I was detained with other matters. I am
Richard Dupré, Madame Dupré’s son.”
Erik almost choked. Richard Dupré? He had no idea he was
attending the party. He offered his hand to Richard, “It is a pleasure to
meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, having heard so much about your extraordinary accomplishments
at the opera house. It is an honor to have you in my family home. I have already
had the pleasure of meeting Madame Michelle.” He waited for Erik’s reaction to
the mention of Danielle’s fake name, considering that he had not spoken to her in
almost an hour and a half.
Erik stammered slightly, “Have you now?” His mind swirled. Who was
Michelle?
“Of course. I would be
derelict in my official duties without introducing myself to your lovely wife.”
“Yes, of course. I trust she was enjoying the party?” his eyes
scanned inside, trying to spot her. She had strayed from the story, using
a name he had not been prepared for and he knew why, she had seen Richard and
panicked.
“Yes, until her unfortunate headache, that is. Such a shame she had
to leave.”
Erik’s eyes widened. She was gone?
Richard noted his expression and added, “You did know that your wife
left about twenty minutes ago, didn’t you? Didn’t she inform you of her
being ill?”
“Well, of course she did.” Erik answered back quickly.
Richard loved this. He didn’t know what was wrong with Erik and
Danielle’s marriage, but it was apparent he didn’t know she had left. He
chose not to press further, opting to return to the party and let whatever
happened after that happen.
“If you will excuse me, I must return to my guests, enjoy the rest of
the party, Monsieur.” He bowed and left Erik alone.
Erik paced around, full of
questions. Danielle had a headache? The last time he
had spotted her, it appeared as if she was quite relaxed and having a nice
time.
When he saw Christine had returned, however, his mind was lost to all
other thought. He could ask Danielle about everything tomorrow
morning. Tonight, he just wanted to be with Christine, enjoy her, knowing
he wouldn’t be seeing her again.
-----------------------------------------
Danielle stepped out of the carriage and immediately went inside Erik’s
house and straight upstairs to the
She walked past the long mirror and saw herself in it. She shook
her head at the extravagance of it all. The smoke and
mirrors, if you will. He had done well, convinced her she was a
lady, that she was something other than what she was. She looked at the
ring on her finger. He’d given it to her. For what? To
be an expensive arm piece for the sake of making another woman
jealous? She snorted loudly as she took the ring off and placed it on the
table by the bed. Truly, she had contemplated selling it in her angrier
state, but she was not that kind of person, and would not start, no matter how
much she hurt inside.
Then she spotted the envelope. Picking it up, she opened it and saw
the money she’d been promised. She held it to her, feeling cheap, used and
dirty. Yet, for all that, she could not turn down the money. She
focused on that. The money would save her shop. Period.
She had done everything short of whoring herself, all for the sake of her
shop. She could not let her mother’s dream die. It was all she had
left. For that much, it was all worth it. Yes, she would cry, pity
herself, but after she was home…then tomorrow, she would pay off her debts and
move on and chalk it up to lessons learned.
After placing the envelope into her bag, she removed her gown, returning
it to the large wardrobe. She stood at the dressing table and removed the
ribbons and tiny flowers from her hair, then brushed out her long ringlets,
making her hair smooth again before pinning it up tightly in a bun. She
removed her rouge, knowing if her father spotted it, he would be quite
angry. He never allowed the use of artificial embellishments, not with his
mother and not with her.
She dressed and finished packing her bag with what little she had
brought with her…a few pictures, mementos, a couple of her favorite
books and a journal that belonged to her mother. She was sad, not just for
what Erik had done to her, but what she was going to do to Emma and Lacie. She
was not even going to say goodbye. It was wrong, but it hurt too
much. She knew they had not been part of Erik’s deception, she could feel
it. She liked them very much, but as much as she liked them, her need to
get away from Erik was much stronger.
She left the house silently and got back into the carriage, never
speaking a word to Jacques. He drove her away slowly and she never looked
back.
-----------------------------------------
“Mother, may I speak with you alone?” Richard took his mother by the arm
and led her into the parlor as she was bidding
farewell to the party guests just after midnight.
When they were secure inside, he shut the door and turned to
her. Madame Dupré’s face scowled, “Son, what is it?”
“Madame Renault. Did she tell you how she met Monsieur Renault?”
“No, not directly, but she told
Madame Guérin and she told me. She said that
they met in Boscherville, her aunt being a friend of his late
mother’s. Why?”
Richard turned and walked around the parlor,
fingering some books on a shelf by the window as he observed everyone leaving
the party. He did not recall Danielle’s mention of an aunt when they were
courting. “An aunt. What is her name?”
“I believe it is Marie…uh, Marie Perrault.” She came to him and
touched his arm. “Why do you wish to know?”
He turned sharply to his mother and looked down, touched her
cheek. “Because, Mother, I believe she is not Michelle Renault as she
claims, but actually Danielle Durand.”
That made Madame Dupré gasp loudly.
--------------------------------
Erik walked Christine to her carriage and spotted Raoul inside,
waiting. He sighed, knowing his evening with her was over. He took
her hand and kissed it. “Again, it was wonderful to see you again,
Christine.”
She sighed at the feel of his lips on her hand, “It was wonderful to see
you again as well, Erik. Perhaps….” She stammered, “perhaps,
you could attend one of my rehearsals for Le Prophète. I
have one tomorrow afternoon.”
That, he had not foreseen, having already made plans with Danielle
earlier that day to visit some shops and purchase her some new clothing. He could very well postpone the trip, but
suddenly, he did not wish to, he truly wanted to be with
Danielle. “Umm…unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to, so
perhaps another time….?”
She smiled, “Of course. I know it was short notice, but please feel
free to come to any one…or all of them. You know where I’ll be.”
He nodded.
“And please, extend to you wife that I hope she feels better soon.”
With that, she turned and walked to the carriage and he watched as she
got inside. He watched it ride away before going to his own.
-------------------------------------------------
The ride home was excruciating. He had come so close to taking
Christine up on her offer, but he knew it was not wise. Christine was
married. True, it appeared that they were having some problems, but it was
not for him to interfere. He thought of Danielle and he could not wait to
go to her room, to tell her what a success the night had been, thank her for
all she had done for him. He hoped her headache had not made her fall
asleep too harshly. He was concerned about her,
he wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms. He wanted to know if she was
alright after her encounter with Richard. It had appeared to him that
Richard was none the wiser, but he also knew how much she had dreaded the
thought of him being there. So many thoughts….so many….
As the carriage pulled up, he threw open the door and ran
inside. Jacques watched, knowing he would discover Danielle gone and ask
to see him again, he wisely remained and waited.
Erik stopped in the foyer, careful not to alarm any of his servants to
his presence. He went upstairs silently and stopped at the closed door of
the
He knocked a second time and spoke, “Danielle?” before opening the door
slowly, expecting to find her asleep.
He did not however, expect to find her gone.
He walked inside and looked around the room, empty now of everything
that had made that room truly hers, what gave the normally drab room color and life. He opened the wardrobe and found the
gown, so he knew she had been back, at least long enough to change her
gown. He slammed the door and looked around again, confused. Where
was she?
Then he saw the ring. He walked over to the side table and picked
it up. He shook his head, not understanding anything. Why would she
leave the ring behind? The money…he looked on the bed and saw the missing
envelope… was gone, and so was she.
He went back outside to find Jacques waiting on him. He stopped and
with a frown, asked him, “Where is she?”
“She asked me to take her home, Monsieur.” Jacques replied.
“Home? Why?”
“She did not tell me, but she was very unhappy. She was silent the
whole way there, very sad and silent.”
“How long ago?”
“Not long, probably a half hour. I came straight to Madame Dupré’s
from there.”
Erik groaned.
“Do you wish to go after her?”
“No. Tomorrow I shall decide what I want to do,
tonight I am tired and will retire. Get some sleep, Jacques.”
Jacques merely nodded as he pulled the carriage around to the side of
the house.
----------------------------------------------
Danielle entered her apartment, seeing one small gas lamp lit beside her
father’s large chair. He was there, reading. He barely turned his
head when he addressed her. “Did Michelle give birth this evening?” His
voice was low and quiet, seemingly devoid of any anger or malice.
“No, Father. It was a false alarm.”
“So, she is better now.”
“Yes she is.”
“And you will not be needed again until she gives birth?”
“No, Father.”
“Then you will not leave here again and if you ever think of defying me
again, in word or deed, I shall find it necessary to take physical retribution,
is that understood?” He spoke nothing more and continued to read his book.
She shook her head with a slight smirk, “Yes, Father.” She expected
nothing less from the cold and calculating man he had become.
She went into her room and shut the door, hiding her packed bag under
her bed. She would unpack later.
Now, she just wanted to sleep. Perhaps, after all, her father was
right. She did not belong out there. She was just too naive now, too
trusting and vulnerable after years of isolating herself from the outside
world. None of it mattered. He had forbid her to leave, and quite
simply, she no longer cared.
Yet, she still cried herself to sleep.
Chapter
Thirteen:
The sun had
just barely risen over the Pont Neuf by the time Evelyne
and her daughter Nathalie came to the shop extra early the next morning to open
and prepare for the day. She had already warned Nathalie on their way there to
be aware of Jean-Pierre’s changing mood, but she was not terribly leery,
Jean-Pierre liked Nathalie very much and would most likely curb his tongue
around her, at least until he was alone.
She wished
he could feel the same way about Danielle. Since she began working in the shop
five years prior, Jean-Pierre’s relentless bantering, coldness and anger
towards his only child had always eluded her. Danielle seemed almost immune to
it and had explained to her one day that he had been that way since her
mother’s untimely passing a few years before. She sighed when she noted how it
appeared that the poor young woman had just simply given up,
or actually….given in to her fate, as if she just didn’t have anything else.
As they
approached the shop door, Evelyne recalled vividly one incident that happened
about two years before….
It was a rather warm summer day and the doors
and windows of the shop were wide open to allow some air to flow through the
cramped space. Danielle was in the main window, dressing the mannequins with
new summer displays when a group of rather attractive young men happened by as
they exited the Pont Neuf. Due to the heat, Danielle
was wearing a rather low on the shoulder type of dress and unbeknownst to her,
when she leaned over, it gaped just a bit in the front. She became aware of
this eventually and when she would bend over, she would press her hand to her
chest to prevent it. The men stopped just off the side of the street to watch
her work in the window. They were not gawking, Evelyne
surmised for herself, just observing who they felt was a very attractive young
woman. Danielle, of course, was not oblivious to the stares, but in her soft
spoken manner, she simply smiled at them and continued with her task, assuming
they were interested in her window display. However, within five minutes,
Jean-Pierre could be heard from the window above the shop, screaming loudly at
the young men to leave or the gendarmes
would be called. They left, quickly. The sound of Jean-Pierre running down the
stairs was so thunderous, Evelyne was almost sure it was coming from rain clouds
and not the shop. He entered the shop, went straight to Danielle, pulled her harshly out of the window and to the floor. She
went pale, silent and scared. She knew the poor girl had no clue what she had
done wrong.
“What do you mean, parading yourself like a
courtesan in front of a window like that, girl?” he screamed at her.
She helplessly shook her head.
“Have you lost your voice? Answer me!”
“I was changing the mannequins in the new
window display.” She squeaked out.
Jean-Pierre snorted as she went to the window.
Suddenly, he began ripping the gowns on the mannequins to shreds, sending
material, costume jewelry, and floral arrangements
flying around the room. The window
display was completely destroyed. Evelyne had covered her mouth in shock, but
Danielle just sat there on the floor, as if none of it registered.
When his tirade was finished he returned to
Danielle and jerked her to her feet by her arm.
“Now…” he said coldly. “Go upstairs and put on a proper dress.” Then he
shoved her away from him towards the stairwell to the upstairs apartment before
he said to her, “Believe me, if I thought you would make a halfway decent
courtesan, I would have been able to save this shop years go.”
Evelyne gasped and Jean-Pierre turned away,
having not been aware of her presence until that very moment. She watched as
Danielle started up the stairs and Jean-Pierre said to her before she
disappeared, “then return here and clean up this mess.”
He threw an almost apologetic glance to Evelyne
as he exited the shop. That, she still could not understand. It was if he
didn’t care who saw him treat his daughter that way but her…..
As she
unlocked the door and entered the shop she found it was still dark and empty.
While Nathalie opened the windows and lit the lamps, Evelyne went into the back
room, half expecting to be greeted at the stairwell by a crazed Jean-Pierre,
screaming about Danielle not returning home that night.
The last
thing they expected was to see Danielle already there, sitting in her favorite chair, sewing on Madame Lamoureux’s gown just as if nothing had ever happened.
She gasped,
“Danielle!”
Danielle
looked up and smiled at her.
Evelyne
lowered her tone, knowing Nathalie was still in the shop. She sat down next to
Danielle and studied her. “What happened? Why are you back here? I was ready
for a showdown with Jean-Pierre.”
“No need
Evelyne. I am home now.” Her tone was back to normal, totally defeated. That
was not good to hear.
“But
Erik….”
“Truly, I would
rather not talk about it. I have to go to the landlord’s this morning and pay
off the back rent, then go and pay off Father’s other debts but I wanted to get
ahead of Madame Lamoureux’s gown first.”
“Then the
party did happen? You did get paid?”
“Yes.” She
answered, then smiled again when she saw Nathalie
enter the backroom.
“I do not…”
“Nothing to understand, Evelyne. It is very simple, I am not leaving again.”
“Then does
that mean you do not need me, Danielle?” Nathalie asked as she returned, holding
a bolt of dark blue velvet material that had been lying by the door of the
shop.
“Oh, no dear. I still need you and now, I will be able to pay you a proper part time
wage.”
That made
the young girl smile.
“It is not
necessary Danielle, Nathalie is here to learn, nothing
more.”
“Nonsense
Evelyne, Nathalie is a fine seamstress, much more experienced than I was at her
age. She is ready to be paid for her hard work. And I do not wish to argue
about it.” She stood and put her hands on Evelyne’s shoulders. “I want to do
this. You need the money, I know that Paul has had
trouble finding steady work since the factory closed down. I find this very
little compensation for all you have done for us.”
Evelyne
nodded, “But if you find you can no longer afford it….”
“Yes, I
know. Now….I must go. I have been here for a good two hours. I took Father his
coffee early and I have left him his breakfast on the stove to stay warm. I
wrote him a note informing him I was going to the market.”
“If he says
anything to me, we will back up your story.”
“Thank you
both. I shall return as soon as possible.” She grabbed her shawl, touched
Nathalie’s cheek comfortingly, and left the shop.
Evelyne
could only shake her head as she gathered up Madame Lamoureux’s
gown and placed it off the table so her and Nathalie could begin cutting dress
patterns.
-------------------------------------------------
Jules
arrived early at Erik’s house to find him in his library, busily pouring over
his books, a deep and pensive scowl on his face.
Something told him it was not the finances that caused that look. He stuck his
head inside the door and knocked on the frame. “Monsieur?”
“What is
it, Jules?” he barely looked up at him.
“I have
come to accompany Mademoiselle Danielle to pay her debts, as per your request.”
“It is not
necessary.” He informed him.
“Not
necessary? But…”
“I said, it was not necessary!” he shouted back, throwing Jules
a sneering glare.
Jules
remained in stunned silence.
“Is there
anything else?”
“I was
curious to know how the party went last night, Monsieur.”
“I do not
care to discuss it at this time, Jules. Was that all you wished to ask me?”