Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage

©2006 Black Rose Collection

By: Melissa Smith and Roxanne Walker

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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.

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Chapter Fifteen:

Three days had past and everything started to return to normal at Durand’s dress shop. Danielle remained quiet, sewing by herself in the backroom or spending the afternoons instructing Nathalie, while Evelyne and Jean-Pierre dealt with the customers in the shop. Danielle had not heard any word from Erik since that night at the window, and although she hated not being around him, she felt she hadn’t been totally abandoned. Working upstairs in her apartment, cleaning in the late afternoons, she could easily see out the window as Jacques would drive by at least once during that day. It was almost becoming routine. She would always wave and he would wave back, but whether or not the carriage was empty, she never knew. In the end, she figured it didn’t really matter…at least Erik had not forgotten about her.

In the meantime, Erik had been keeping his promise to allow Danielle to come to him, yet he was not totally staying away. At night…late at night….he would find himself at the fire escape, standing by Danielle’s window, watching her sleep. The ensuing days since the last time he saw her had turned bitterly cold again, thus forcing Danielle to keep her window closed tight. He hated viewing her through the frosty glass, admiring her sleeping form instead of touching her. He watched the thin, worn bed coverings hug her curves, picturing her sleeping instead in his own bed, warm and sated under his plush, burgundy velvet coverlet. Her chest rising and falling with each soft breath, her hair smooth as silk and fanned out across the red silk pillowcase. 

When his body would finally give out, the longing too much, he would return home…alone.

During the day, however, to distract himself from the temptation of visiting Danielle at her shop, he took to spending time in the Opera House, keeping to himself in the shadows watching rehearsals and especially Christine, closely.

Today however had been, by far, the worst. Christine was growing more and more obnoxious by the minute. He watched patiently as Monsieur Reyer had to restart her main aria six times because she could not reach the right notes. She sounded flat in spots, and just hoarse in others. She found her leading man, a fine tenor from Spain named Roderick Deluca, to be dull and boring, lacking the passion and fire to play Jean de Leyden to her Berthe. More than once she stopped him, criticizing his Spanish accented French. Roderick remained patient, but Monsieur Reyer did not.

“Vicomtess, please, we must at least get through this aria!” he called to her from the orchestra pit.

Groaning, she continued on, still distracted and unable to keep her mind on the opera. More and more, chatter rose around Christine. She saw them and started wringing her hands in frustration as she glared at them, yet they never appeared to pay her any mind. Finally, in a fit of anger, she screamed out to the whole theatre, “That is it! I know I sound awful, so you can all stop your snivelling little remarks! There is no one who can help me!” Then she threw down her sheet music and cried, “I want my Angel of Music!”

A collective gasp fell over the whole ensemble cast, everyone looking around, some not even sure who she was referring to.

But Erik knew.

He stood up from his back row hiding place, gripping the seat in front of him hard. He’d seen and heard quite enough. “Stop whining like a child, Christine, and I shall help you.” He called back, causing another round of gossiping chatter. 

Christine gasped, stepping forward and shielding her eyes to see off the stage. Erik slowly walked down the long aisle towards her and her eyes lit up, a smile of relief crossing her lips. He was there, he had been watching!

“Please Erik! Please help me, I sound horrible, I …” she pleaded as he walked up on stage. 

He took her shoulders to calm her down, “You temper is unacceptable, as are your manners. Yes, your voice is bad, Christine, but if you listen to me, perhaps I can get you through the rest of rehearsals today, but only if you stop your incessant snivelling.” He said indifferently. He had to steady himself, distance himself as he looked into her soft, innocent eyes, the eyes that had captured him so many times. But his mind went to Danielle. No, he would not ruin this a second time.

“That will not be necessary, Monsieur Renault…” a voice called out from the side stage. Both Erik and Christine turned to see Raoul approaching, “I am sure I can find a suitable tutor for my wife.”

Erik let go of Christine’s shoulders and nodded. “I do not care who tutors the Vicomtess, just as long as she is ready for the inauguration.” He said plainly. Christine looked at him, shocked. She did not want just any tutor.

“But…” she began, but Raoul cut her off with his hand.

“I will check with Monsieur René, I am sure he would be more than happy to come here and…”

“I do not like Monsieur René, Raoul, he is…” she interrupted sharply.

“He is the best tutor in Paris.” He replied to her, his tone becoming more and more patronizing. “Christine, for the sake of the opera, please let me handle this…”

Finally, Christine had enough, “I do not want Monsieur René! I want Erik!” she screamed angrily and rather loudly. So loud, in fact, that both Erik and Raoul took a step back.

Christine blushed, realizing what she had said. “Umm, what I mean is, for my tutor of course.” She laughed a bit nervously, then turned serious again.

Raoul looked at Erik and Erik looked at Christine. It was almost as if what happened a year ago had just occurred yesterday. And Erik didn’t like the way it felt. For that matter, neither did Raoul.

“Again, handle it the way you wish, Vicomte, but today, I shall instruct her.” He said with a tone of finality that the Vicomte did not like.

“Is this what you really want, Christine?” Raoul asked her.

“Yes, it is what I want.”

“Well, of course.” Raoul replied, then snorted. He turned on his heels and left. The discussion was over.

Over the next two hours, Christine and Erik worked alone on stage, going over every aspect of the opera, start to finish. He was critical, relentless and harsh, but Christine never said a word in protest, knowing it was exactly what she needed. By the time afternoon rehearsals arrived, she was ready to continue.

Erik left her alone, returning to his backrow hiding place. Immediately he saw a positive change in her performance, albeit not an overwhelming one. She was more confident in her movements and she did not miss one cue, note or line. She still sounded raw, had trouble hitting the higher notes or holding them when need be, but she never uttered one complain. He finally exhaled. She had not thrown one fit of anger. Tomorrow, he would allow Raoul to bring in Monsieur René. All she needed was some proper tutoring and discipline.

At least that’s what he thought.

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Later that evening, so late in fact that Emma had grown a bit worried, Erik came walking in, his head low, his jacket in his arm, sleeves rolled up. He was beyond exhausted. So exhausted that he knew he would sleep once his head hit the pillow. 

Too tired, his mind scolded him, to even visit Danielle.

Emma, now in her bed cloak, looked down over the balcony as he started up the long staircase. “Monsieur, you are later than usual coming for the opera house, are you alright?”

“Tea, please.” Was all he said before passing her and going down the long corridor to his bedroom.

Emma’s face frowned, wanting to ask further, but she dared not. Instead, she ran down to the kitchen to make his tea.

Erik slumped down onto the bed, shaking his head. The events of the past few hours had left him exhausted and anxious. He removed his mask, allowing the cool air to hit his uncovered face as he fell back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. His conscious tried in vain to figure out how he was going to get out of the jam he now found himself in.

Tired now…think tomorrow…he sighed deeply as his eyes closed.

He had just dozed off slightly when several quiet minutes later, Emma knocked on the door.

“Your tea, Monsieur.” She said softly.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, “Enter.”

She came in and was momentarily stunned seeing Erik there without the mask, something he simply never did. She swallowed hard, entered further into the room, and could see his bloodshot eyes and prominent five o’clock shadow on closer inspection. She sat the tea down on the small table by his bed and looked down at him. “I was becoming worried when you did not show on time.” She told him.

He looked up and smiled at her motherly demeanor. “I am fine, Emma, thank you for the tea.”

He rubbed his tired eyes and that was when he realized he had not replaced his mask. He placed his hand over this disfigured cheek with a groan. “Bloody hell.” He looked at Emma and spoke softly, “My apologies, I had forgotten that I had removed it. I hope I did not offend you.”

She smiled, “No, Monsieur, of course not. It simply caught me off guard, you do not normally….” She gestured to the mask.

“Of course.” He picked up the mask and examined it. “I was feeling rather sore and so I removed it.” He made the move to put it back on his face, but Emma stopped him.

“No, Monsieur, leave it off.” She noted a few very red marks that looked unusual. Blisters, she surmised. “It appears you have worn a couple of bad places.”

He touched his cheek and agreed, “You are correct. I wore it too long today, I am afraid.”

“You have neglected many things in the past couple of days, Monsieur, including the care of your face.” She spoke abruptly but considerately and hoped she had not overstepped her bounds.

“Yes, I have, unfortunately.”

“I have some ointment for that, allow me to get it for you.” She did not give him any time to protest before she was out the door.

He sighed and waited, too tired to argue.

When she returned a few minutes later, she had some ointment, gauze and a bowl of water with her, which she sat down on the small table. 

He did not fight it when she stood in front of him and began to tend his face. He was, however, a bit shocked that she appeared to show no sign of disgust. Shocked, and grateful.

“You were rather late this evening, Monsieur. I hope all is well at the opera house.” She said pleasantly as she dabbed a wet rag over his bad cheek. The cool water made him hiss through clenched teeth, but she continued nonetheless. Truly, she loved it. She missed having a child around to tend to. She needed to feel…well, needed. And without a doubt, although Erik might be her employer, she cared for him very much. He needed a woman’s touch, a wife’s touch…Danielle’s touch, she hoped wistfully. And if not, he at least needed a mother.

He opened his mouth to say everything was fine, but truly, he wanted to get it out, if anything to just sort in his mind what had happened and, more importantly, to deal with it. And Emma, being a woman of good sense, would listen.

“There has been a snag with the production of Le Prophète tonight.”

“A snag, Monsieur?”

He nodded as he took a sip of tea while Emma re-soaked her rag. The hot liquid burned his throat on the way down. It felt excellent. “Yes,” he continued, “there was a fire…”

Emma gasped, but he held up his hand, “…a small fire, but nonetheless, it has destroyed the majority of the scenery backdrop and a few of the costumes.”

“How did it start?”

“The stage manager believes that someone placed a costume too close to one of the candles backstage and it ignited everything. Everyone was on stage, so by the time the fire was detectable; it had consumed much of the scenery. The artist’s paints were stored there also, very flammable.”

“Oh my, I hope no one was hurt.” She began to clean his face again.

“Thankfully no, and the fire was contained rather quickly after detection. The snag is that it will take a few days, if not more, to redo the scenery. Luckily there were more costumes, so those will not have to be re-sewn. It throws the rehearsals back and we simply cannot afford to have anymore delays.”

“So where does that leave the Vicomtess? Has she improved at all?” she asked.

“Only today did she improve after I…tutored her.”

Emma gasped, “You said you would not do that.”

Erik spoke up defensively, “I know I said that, but I had no choice, she would not listen to anyone else!” he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. “That is not the worst of it. She implicitly refuses any other tutoring than mine. She begged me to tutor her privately while the repairs are being done. And not at the opera house…..oh no…too much noise, she says. She wants to come here. Here! To my home.” He stared at her, looking utterly helpless.

Emma dipped the rag once more, “Oh my. What will you do, Monsieur?”

“I have no choice, Emma. For the sake of the production, I must tutor her.” He shook his head.

“And what about Mademoiselle Danielle?” she asked cautiously.

Her name made him inhale sharply, almost hissing. He missed her terribly. He wanted to show her that he could put all thoughts of Christine out of his mind, that all he wanted now was for the two of them to start again, slowly, no deception, no secrets…no bloody arrangements. Now, he would be bringing in Christine to his home. The very thought, just a mere month ago, would have delighted him. Now it filled him with dread. “I do not know what to do. I thought perhaps I would tell Christine that Danielle was in Boscherville visiting her family.”

“You could, Monsieur.” She replied, knowing he did not want to do that.

“But truly, I do not want to be alone with Christine.”

“Because you still care for the Vicomtess?”

He nodded slowly, “Yes. But you must understand, for so long I had thought of nothing but her. I wondered where she was, how she was doing, if she was happy. Now she is here…within my grasp, here for the taking and I….”

“You find you truly do not wish to rekindle anything with her.”

“All I find…all I really wish to do is have Danielle come back here, to continue being my wife.” He said softly, then winced when Emma began dabbing ointment on his blisters.

She smiled, but continued, “Then ask her. If you explain the situation, then perhaps…”

“After all that I have done, the party…no, she would not.”

Emma stopped and looked at him, “Monsieur, she cares for you. She’s hurt, yes, but in time, that will heal itself. Ask her to come, but allow her the space she needs to deal with what she’s feeling. This is all so unfamiliar and no one can sort out her emotions for her. But here, with you, where she can be free to do as she pleases, I feel it would help her. And help you also.”

He inhaled deeply. She made sense. Again.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

That made her heart light. “Then, again, I ask you, what are you going to do?”

He smiled with a soft sigh, “Jules and I will go for her tomorrow.”

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Eight o’clock that following morning found Madame Dupré alone in her sitting room just after breakfast, thinking about Richard. He and Catherine had been due to leave for home within the hour, but the night before, he’d mentioned nothing about it. In fact, he’d barely spoken three words in as many days. She had even gone so far as to consult Catherine, but she was also apparently in the dark and chose not to push him for an explanation, instead opting to tend to the children and let Richard decide what he wanted to do.

That made Madame Dupré wince. Catherine had no backbone, never did. She was the perfect epitome of “lady like” behavior. Although at first she thought it was exactly what Richard needed to get himself away from the wild and unbecoming ways of Danielle Durand, now she grew to hate it. At least Danielle was no wallflower. 

She preferred to keep out of her son’s business, but his behavior since the cocktail party and his apparent discovery of Danielle Durand resurfacing simply had her on edge. Surely, Richard did not still have feelings for that girl, not after so many years.

She shook her head, thinking back on the party and meeting Madame Renault. No, she shook her head, the woman he had met was lovely, disciplined…a woman of obvious class. She could not be the Danielle Durand she remembered.

She thought back to their one and only meeting. How Danielle, in a low cut and thin sundress, came bouncing into their home, gawking like she had never seen anything so elegant. She was loud, always laughing at her husband’s inappropriate dirty jokes, something a real lady would have been offended to hear. But not Danielle. She had not just laughed at them, but told a few of her own! She did have table manners, she recalled, and she knew how to dance rather divinely, but her demeanor was simply…uncivilized. She told Richard later that evening, after he had returned, that Danielle was simply not suitable for a wife. That is when she found Catherine, a girl that Richard had courted in school. Soon, Richard came to her and informed her that Danielle was pregnant with his child. She could have fainted! Richard had panicked, saying he didn’t want a child, nor the scandal that went with it. That night, he ended his relationship with Danielle and a week later married Catherine and moved from Paris. End of trouble. At least, until now.

She was helpless, all she could do was wait and wonder.

“Good morning, Mother.” Richard said when he entered the sitting room holding a cup of coffee. 

Her head flew up, her eyes wide. He was speaking. “Well, good morning, son. You seem…a bit more talkative today.”

He sat down on the couch and sighed, “I apologize for my foul mood, I just needed to sort out a piece of rather unsettling news. I am better now.”

She leaned in towards him, “What news is that?”

“I had gone a few days ago to Durand’s dress shop to find Danielle.”

She held her breath. Could he have found out after all that Madame Renault was an imposter? “And?”

“It appears that Madame Renault is legitimate.”

“How did you find this out?”

“She was in the dress shop having a gown altered. I spoke with her. She is the spitting image of Danielle, Mother.”

She exhaled, “I see,” then paused and studied him. “But, you do not appear to be totally convinced she is not Danielle.”

“I was sure it was her, but after Jean-Pierre arrived, he saw Madame Renault himself, then he told me something….”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me Danielle was dead.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, “Oh my! Dead?”

“Yes. Committed suicide about a year after I married. Did you hear anything about that? Recall anything about a suicide in the Époque?” he asked her.

“It was so long ago, son, but no. Surely if I read her name listed as dead, I would have told you immediately. You did the right thing by ending it with her, son, but I knew you still cared, I would not have kept that from you.”

“That’s what Jean-Pierre told me, that he kept it private.” He sat pensively for a few moments. He debated whether to actually tell his mother that the reason he was seeking Danielle was solely to find his child. She would be most displeased. She had chosen to pretend that any bastard child of his simply did not exist, even though he had told her before he married Catherine that the child would be put up for adoption. Besides, it did not matter anyway. If Danielle was truly dead as her father had said, then so was the child. He chose not to mention the child’s death.

Yet, he still needed closure. He wanted to visit Danielle’s grave, to tell her how sorry he had been for not being there when she needed him the most. For choosing society over love. “I do not plan on going home today, Mother.” He informed her.

“Oh?”

“No, I am going to find where Danielle is buried, and visit her. I want to say a proper goodbye. Then tomorrow, Catherine, the children and I will go home and forget everything.”

Madame Dupré smiled, relieved. Nothing wrong with visiting a grave. “I think that is sensible son. Do you know where she’s buried?”

“No, and I had promised not to return to Jean-Pierre again, so I will simply search on my own. I know her mother is buried in le Père Lachaise cemetery, so it would make sense that she would be buried there also, probably close to her, possibly unmarked, considering the manner of her death. That is the first place I plan on checking. The cemetery would have records, unmarked grave or not.” 

Madame Dupré stood up and patted his shoulder, deciding it was best to leave him alone. The relief she felt was almost audible as she exited the sitting room.

He relaxed then, sat back and began to read the paper with a smile. His first smile in three days.

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Taking a short break from her sewing, Danielle sat down by the fireplace to drink her tea before her father returned to the shop. He was prone to taking an hour or so after lunch to just disappear, yet she never asked where he went and he never volunteered to tell her. She surmised he met a lady friend nearby, considering every time he returned, he smelled slightly of perfume and cigar smoke. Mostly, she chose not to think about it, just deciding instead to relish in the time she had to herself.

The carriage pulled in front of the side street facing Danielle’s upper window and stopped. Jacques waited while the door opened and Jules exited. He turned to look back into the carriage.

“Are you sure you do not wish to accompany me, Monsieur?”

“No, not unless she asks for me.” Erik replied, “Jacques will watch for any signal.”

“Of course, Monsieur, but there is no guarantee she will come with me now.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I know, but we must try.”

Jules nodded and closed the carriage door.

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Danielle had stood up by the time Jules made it to the fire escape and was going towards the kitchen to finish the lunch dishes.

“Psssssst…..” he made the noise from outside the sitting room window, tapping on the glass.

She turned with a startled jump, then saw him. She ran to the window and opened it for him. “Get inside here, Jules, you shall catch your death!” she said as she pulled him inside.

“Thank you, Danielle, it is rather cold out there today…especially up high where the wind blows harder.” He shivered, then went to the fireplace and removed his gloves to warm up.

“Let me make you some tea.” She said as she went for the kitchen again, grateful he was there, she wanted to ask about Erik.

“No, but thank you, I cannot stay long enough, the carriage is waiting and surely Jacques will freeze if I remain here longer than necessary.”

She turned back towards him and walked over to the small couch in front of the fireplace, gesturing for him to join her, “Then, what brings you here?”

He sat down and faced her, smiling, but it was obvious to Danielle, his visit was not totally social. “We have a bit of a problem. Well, I shouldn’t say we, but Erik. He has a problem.”

“Yes?” she waited patiently, sucking in a breath at the mention of his name.

He proceeded to tell her everything. That Erik had been spending time at the Opera House, the problems with Christine’s voice, his subsequent decision to tutor her the day before, the setback in rehearsals….

…and Christine’s request.

She listened intently, her mind trying to take it all in before she replied.

“So, what you are telling me is that the Vicomtess only wants Erik to tutor her and she wishes for it to be at his home instead of the Opera House?”

He nodded.

Her heart sank at the very idea. She became indifferent rather than letting Jules see her jealousy, “So let him tutor her. What does all this have to do with me?”

He raised his brow and studied her, “It appears that in order to continue fooling everyone that the two of you are married, you will need to move in to Erik’s home. After all, it would not do well for Christine to not see you there, it will raise suspicions.”

“I do not know, Jules, after everything that happened…..I mean, he says he does not want the Vicomtess, but having her around…..he might….”

“I can assure you, his interest in Christine is simply professional. She chose to have no understudy and it is simply too late to find one. She refuses any other tutors. For the sake of the inauguration, he must tutor her.”

She turned away. “He can say I am away. Visiting family, perhaps.”

Jules smiled gently, “Yes, he could, but I believe you know that he does not wish that. And neither do you.”

“Jules, please do not pretend that you know what I am thinking, or wishing….”

“But I do. Besides, the thought of Christine being around Erik, in his home, alone…it makes you jealous beyond comprehension.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but she could not. He was right, the very idea that Christine would be near Erik anywhere made her wince inside. It was the most insane of thoughts, after all, hadn’t they only known each other just over a week? True, but for Danielle, it had been the most intense and exciting week of her life. 

Still, despite her need to keep the Vicomtess in check, the fact remained that she could not get past what he had done at the party, the way he looked at Christine, spoke to her, the way his eyes simply glazed over in her very presence. How did she know that he would not be that way again? And worse, she would have to endure it under the same roof!

“Of course I understand the importance of lost wages if you were not there, Erik assures me that you would be compensated enough for the shop to continue in your absence.”

“I see.” She should have been offended by the offer, with the assumption that she would only be interested in money, but she was not. It was good business sense and Erik was, if anything, an excellent business man. But, money was not her driving force this time, jealousy was, and she was not ready to give in to either just yet.

“If you agree, you can pack and we can leave quickly, before your father returns.” Jules prompted.

“No.” she answered flatly. “I will not be rushed into such a decision.”

“But, Danielle…”

“When is the Vicomtess expected at Erik’s home?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“I see. Well, until such time as I make a decision either way, inform Erik that he can tell the Vicomtess that I am in Boscherville visiting my Aunt Marie.” She told him with such authority that she slipped from being Danielle to Madame Renault. He liked her tone, even if he did not like her decision.

“Of course.” He said as he rose and put on his gloves. He knew better not to argue further.

She stood with him. “Please give Emma, Lacie and Jacques my best.”

“I shall, and Erik will await your answer soon.” He replied as he headed to the window and exited.

Danielle could only stare, shaking her head. Time, she thought, all she needed was time to think.

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“I apologize profusely, Madame, I do not understand how the seam was sewn so inadequately, but I shall have it fixed immediately. Please, have a seat, I promise it will not take long.”

“It better not.” Madame Gaston sneered, smelling a lingering stench of brandy on him as he spoke. “I would be most upset if I had to take it elsewhere to be finished.”

Jean-Pierre looked at her, nodding as he took the small gown that had been sewn for her young daughter, gesturing to the long couch in the back. “That will not be necessary I assure you. Make yourself comfortable, I shall have Evelyne make you a cup of tea while you wait.” He said before running to the backroom. He was embarrassed and Danielle was not going to escape the wrath of his anger.

Danielle, Evelyne and Nathalie had been sewing in the back for over an hour after she returned from upstairs. Long enough for her to relay the story to Evelyne about Erik’s dilemma.

Evelyne could not believe that Danielle had turned down the offer.

“You need the extra money.” She told her.

Danielle groaned as she continued to sew, “Yes, I know but…I mean I would feel like…an employee.”

“But isn’t that what this arrangement was to begin with? You being an employee?” she whispered away from Nathalie.

She could only shrug in response. She was not in the mood to explain in depth her true feelings, especially not in front of Nathalie.

Suddenly, Jean-Pierre burst through the curtain, his face curled and hard with anger. He threw the gown onto the table and growled at her, “What is the meaning of this?”

Danielle looked up and regarded her father’s anger with surprise and curiosity. He’d practically ignored her over the past days. “I do not understand…”

“This!” he picked up the small gown, showing her the obvious crooked hem, sewn rather sloppily. He threw it at her, hitting her in the face.

Both Evelyne and Nathalie gasped in surprise. 

Danielle grimaced as she calmly examined the garment. It was the gown that she had allowed Nathalie to sew by herself. She realized in her haste that she had not gone behind and checked her work. 

“See? What has gotten into you? You mope around here, hardly speaking, and then you mess up a customer’s gown?” he got in her face. “I swear, girl, you become more and more useless by the day!”

Although his words hurt, this time, she did not cower, nor shed a tear. “I shall fix the hem immediately.” She simply said, reaching for her sewing kit.

“Monsieur Durand…please….it is my fault, I sewed the hem!” Nathalie cried. “Please do not be angry with Danielle!” He shot her a glance.

“You? Why are you being allowed to sew customer gowns unsupervised?” he asked, his tone a bit more level, but still angry. 

Evelyne stood in front of her daughter defensively, “I allowed her Jean-Pierre. It is my fault, I should have inspected her work before it went out. I will repair the hem.”

Danielle stood and faced down Jean-Pierre. No longer would she allow anyone to take blame for her mistakes. “Do not listen to them, they are protecting me. I supervised Nathalie, but did not make the final inspection. Therefore…” she glared at Evelyne who was pleading with her eyes to stop, knowing it would not help, “I shall take full responsibility and make the repairs.”

He did not like that she stood in his face, nor the way she spoke to him. He shoved her hard back into the chair. “Listen to me and listen good. Remember your place and never take a tone like that with me again.”

Danielle narrowed her eyes, knowing she had done no such thing, but she was now about to. “I took no disrespectful tone with you, Father. I told you that I shall repair the gown, and I shall. Now, if you will excuse us, we have sewing to do and your berating of me is causing further delays.”

“You little…” He snorted, but she did not flinch. She did flinch, however, when he reached behind him and removed an old belt strap from the shelf. “How dare you speak to me that way!” Her eyes widened.

“No, Jean-Pierre!” Evelyne ran to him and grabbed his arm as Nathalie cried out. “This is not necessary, she is just tired, speaking out of turn. She has been up for hours, sewing before dawn, she does not know what she’s saying!” she pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

Danielle stood and began to run but Jean-Pierre grabbed her before she could move a foot away. “Tired huh?” he laughed. “Let us see how tired you become when you have to sew a hem standing up, for it will be a long time before you will be able to sit upon your backside after I am finished with you, you worthless piece of….” He raised his hand high, the strap ready to descend upon her body.

Danielle screamed defiantly, “No!” and struggled against his grasp while Evelyne sent Nathalie from the back room, telling her to run and hide, hoping she would not see anything that was about to transpire. 

But Nathalie did not hide. She ran out into the shop, only to find it empty, Madame Gaston long gone after hearing the angry words spoken earlier. Frantic to find someone to help, she ran outside and immediately spotted a black carriage parked less than a block down the street, close to the Pont Neuf. Outside of the carriage stood two men, both nicely dressed. The first man she noticed, of course, wore a white mask. The same man she had heard Danielle talk about to her mother over the previous few days. Yes! This man would help Danielle! She ran for them as fast as she could go.

Jacques was sitting at the top of the carriage as he had for the past hour, waiting as Erik and Jules stood nearby, planning on another way to convince Danielle to go with them. He was snuggling under his warm coat, rubbing his hands while reading when the frantic cries of a young girl caught the men’s ears.

“Help! Help, Messieurs!” she cried as she reached the carriage. Quick as lightning, Jacques jumped down and grabbed her. “What is wrong?”

“My friend! She is going to be beaten! Beaten, Monsieur! Please help!” she was so hysterical, she could hardly breath, much less speak. 

“Calm down, your friend is going to be beaten, you say?” Jules asked her from behind, assuming she meant another young girl like herself.

“Yes! yes!” she cried, “My mother tired to stop him but he would not listen.”

“Where?”

“Down here, at the dress shop!” she cried and all three men immediately tensed up.

“Danielle?” Erik asked her, “is it Danielle?”

“Yes! Please help her!”

“Wait here!” Jacques told her as he ran into the carriage and removed the pistol from behind a small hidden compartment under the seat. He returned and said, “I’ll go get her!”

“No! That bloody bastard!” Erik screamed as he took the gun from Jacques, “I shall kill him!”

He started towards the shop, but Jules grabbed him first. “No, Monsieur! This cannot be the way, let us handle it!” he gave the gun back to Jacques and the three of them ran for the shop.

Over and over Jean-Pierre began to whip the strap against Danielle’s body, anywhere he allowed it to land, legs, back, buttocks, even her stomach did not escape his wild and furious blows. Evelyne cried out, begging him to stop as Danielle could do nothing but scream in pain and helpless anger. Never had her father resorted to such horrendous physical violence. She again struggled against him, but his grasp was just too strong, she could almost feel the bone in her arm about to snap as her body screamed in agony. She fought to escape the strap but the more she did, the angrier he became.

“Please, for the love of God, stop this Jean-Pierre!” Evelyne cried helplessly.

“God has nothing to do with this Evelyne, stay out of it!” he paused just long enough to look her way, long enough for Danielle to almost collapse from pain and exhaustion. “She will learn her place!” he raised the strap again, but a clicking sound caught his attention.

“Make another move and I shall fire, Monsieur!” Jacques called out from just inside the curtain after clicking the trigger of the gun, now aimed and ready to fire.

The ladies gasped, unaware that he had even arrived, but Jean-Pierre held his ground, his arm still in the air. He recognized Jacques as the driver that had brought Danielle home the other evening after the broken wheel. He narrowed his eyes. “Young man, this is a private matter. Leave, or you shall be next.”

He laughed slightly, “I doubt that, now let her go.” He told Jean-Pierre, his voice low. “I assure you, a bullet in your heart is far easier on you than what awaits you behind this curtain if you do not cooperate.

Danielle panted in pain as her father kept his death grip upon her, unsure what to believe. “You are bluffing.” He spat at him.

“You wish to test the theory, Monsieur?” Jacques asks as he coolly fires the gun at Jean-Pierre. It narrowly misses his head, lodging into the dark wood of the fireplace mantle behind him. Jacques smirked at the old man’s shocked expression, “Next time, I shall not miss.”

He left go of Danielle’s arm and she collapsed on the floor.

“Monsieur Erik!” Jacques called out.

Erik ran in without a second to spare, followed by Jules. He stopped and saw Danielle cowered on the floor, slumped in a panic-stricken heap, her dress torn and gaping open from multiple blows. Red whelps formed on her legs, her face red with tears, panting in pain. His anger welled up inside and he knew he couldn’t control it. He didn’t want to.

Danielle saw them both and cried out, “Erik!”

“Are you alright, Danielle?” Jules asked her, but she could only shake her head, unable to say much more.

Before anyone could else respond, Erik took the gun quick as lightning and shoved Jean-Pierre into the wall, the barrel pointed at his head as he let out an angry cry.

“No!” Jules cried, running to Danielle side.

“Such a brave man as this…” Erik sneered, leaning close to his ear, his hand clutching his throat. “A man who chooses to frighten, intimidate and beat women…you are a waste of life and I shall take great pleasure sparing the world of your presence.”

Jean-Pierre’s face went pale at the sight of the strange man in the mask as he struggled to breath, pushing against Erik’s shoulders, but he was no match for his strength. “Let me go!” he groaned hoarsely.

Erik cocked the gun with a slow, sly grin, more than ready to fire.

“Please Erik, no!” Danielle cried.

“Monsieur! Let us just take Danielle and leave!” Jules pleaded. 

“Mother!” Nathalie’s voice could be heard from inside the shop.

Jules turned to Evelyne and told her, “Go to your daughter, take her home and do not return here.”

She looked helplessly at Danielle, who returned her gaze. 

“Yes Evelyne, go. Please. I will find you soon…”

“Danielle…” she whimpered sadly, then covered her mouth. She turned and left the shop. They could all hear the door shut loudly.

“Jacques!” Erik called out.

He ran to him, “Yes, Monsieur.”

“Take the gun and if he moves, kill him.”

“With pleasure, Monsieur.”

With that, Erik turned and went to Danielle, going to his knees before her. He stroked her cheek, allowing her tears to drip effortless onto his hand. “Danielle…” 

Forgetting everything, all the hurt, the embarrassment, even the Vicomtess, she threw herself into his strong arms, gripping him with all her weakened might. “Erik…”

He lifted her up into his arms and stood, holding her tight. “I have you now, my sweet. I will never let anything happen to you, ever again.” He spoke soft and comfortingly, but glared at Jean-Pierre. “We are going home now and you will not return.”

“Her home is with me!” Jean-Pierre said, his voice rigid and guttural. Jacques’ harsh grasp made him give a sudden wheeze.

Erik ignored his statement and spoke to Jules, “Go upstairs to her apartment, pack up what she wishes to bring, then return home separately. Jacques will drive Danielle and I home.”

“Of course, Monsieur.” He responded.

“Most everything…is still packed…Jules.” Danielle muttered painfully. “Under my bed…but…pack my book…my mother’s poem book…bookcase third shelf…black leather cover.”

Jules smiled, nodding to her, “Any clothing you wish to have?” 

“Bring only the minimum, I will provide her with everything else she needs.” Erik answered for her sternly.

Then he asked Erik, “What about him?” gesturing toward Jean-Pierre.

“Do not let him out of your sight until you are away from the shop. You know what to do if he gives you any trouble.”

Jules nodded, taking the gun from Jacques, who left quickly to bring the carriage to the front of the shop.

“You cannot do this!” Jean-Pierre screamed, “She is my daughter!”

With a smirk, Erik answered in a low and protective tone before leaving the shop with Danielle in his arms, “And she is my wife.”

--------------------------------------

As the carriage rode quickly out of the busy streets toward Erik's home, Danielle continued to shake, partially from the cold, partially from the trauma of being beaten, but mostly from simply laying in Erik’s arms. She held to him as tight as her raw and painful body would allow.

Erik pressed his hand to her head, keeping her close to his body, his cape wrapped around them both. He kissed her hair, her temple, whispering over and over, “It is over now…you are safe….”

It was what she wanted…what she needed to hear…and she slowly drifted off to sleep in his arms. He felt her breathing even out, her body’s release of tension and he sighed, thankful that perhaps the sleep might ease her pain.

But all the while, he could not help but whisper over and over again in her ear…

….my wife.

Chapter Sixteen:

The slight jarring of the carriage as Erik prepared to exit woke Danielle up slightly. Her body hurt more now, if that was even possible. Probably from laying so still, she thought to herself as she cringed from the dull throbbing in her limbs. She could feel her gown brushing across the raw whelped skin of her legs and wondered how she ever let her father get that far. Perhaps if she had just given in, not spoken back to him, he would have let her alone with just the typical harsh words…blowing off steam…if only she hadn’t spoken up. No….she did the right thing, deep down, she knew it, she had to get away from him. And what better place to go....

Erik stopped cold and looked down at her when he noticed her shifting.

“I did not know you had awakened.” He said softly, sitting at the edge of the carriage still holding her to him.

“I did, just now.”

“Are you in pain?”

“I am stiff and sore mostly.” She rested her head on his chest and tried to speak pleasantly. She could hear the worry in his voice.

“When I take you to your room, I shall have Lacie run a bath… that will help.” He assured her as he stood gingerly and started walking into the house.

Emma, who had been pacing from the second floor balcony ever since Erik and Jules left to bring home Danielle, and Lacie, who, in a nervous fit, had been polishing everything in sight down in the foyer, jumped when the door finally flew open.

“Oh, Monsieur, did you find….OH!” Emma cried seeing Danielle in Erik’s arms. “Mademoiselle! What happened?”

“Do not be frightened, Emma…” Danielle weakly answered her with a soft wave of her hand in reassurance.

“But…”

“She will be fine.” Erik started up the staircase as Lacie started running behind him. “Bring the salve, ointments, water and bandages to the Rose Room.” He instructed her, then turned to Lacie, “Run Mademoiselle a bath.”

Both women nodded and ran as fast as they could, giving each other looks and mutual confused shrugs.

Erik entered the Rose Room and laid Danielle down on the bed as gently as he could, grimacing when she winced. She sighed when she finally came to rest, thankful to be away from the harshness of the carriage ride, but hated being out of Erik’s arms, even for the softness of the Chenille bedspread. 

“A hot bath will relieve the stiffness, I promise you, then Emma will tend your wounds.” He told her softly, looking down at her from his seated position on the edge of the bed. “Are you hungry? Perhaps you would like some hot tea?”

“No, I simply wish to have the hot bath, I am sure it will be sufficient to warm me up, I am rather chilled from the carriage ride.”

“I apologize for that, I…”

She shook her head profusely, “Not your fault…I assure you, you are very warm indeed,” she laughed softly, “my body is simply…”she gave a shrug and Erik understood.

“I just wish that I could do more…” he inhaled deeply, touching her hand. When she did not respond, he blurted out, “I should have been there, Danielle, if I had stayed closer to you, if I had just been more persistent, if I had gone into the shop like I had wanted to in the first place, I could have prevented this.”

She gasped, “Oh no, Erik! No one could foresee, only five minutes prior to his insane rant, he was quiet and subdued, even jovial towards Evelyne.”

“Then what happened?”

“A gown I had finished yesterday for a client was returned, my fault really. I did not supervise Nathalie, Evelyne’s daughter, properly and she messed up the hem. Easily fixed in a few minutes, but Father…when a mistake is made, he becomes so embarrassed…his reputation, you see….he just…it is not the first time, but this time…I stood up for myself, I would not let him talk down to me…I did not know he would do what he did….”

“All over a garment.” His eyes flared almost red with the effort to control his ire.

“Yes, poor Nathalie tried to cover for me, the sweet girl…she should not have tried such a thing…”

Erik’s eyes narrowed slightly as he recalled the young girl who had run to them for help. “Nathalie…black curly hair, dark blue gown?”

“Yes, why?” She asked, but then gasped in realization. “Evelyne sent her from the backroom to hide while she tried to prevent Father from beating me and…wait, did she….?”

He nodded, “She went to get help for you, it was just good fortune we were the first carriage she saw on the street.

“Ohh…I was wondering how you….you and Jules…Jacques…”

“We did not depart after you turned down Jules’ offer. We were discussing another way to convince you to return, when a young girl ran to us and said someone was about to be beaten. When she pointed to the dress shop, we all knew…”

She looked at him deeply.

He had been there…in the carriage….the whole time…

He had kept his promise to stay away, although, she truly wished that he had come to her instead of Jules. Seeing him again after a three day absence might have changed her mind.

“Nathalie…” she sighed.

“A very brave young lady.”

She nodded as she shifted slightly in the bed, moving to prop herself up. “I must find some way to thank her…”

“Wait, what are you doing?” he asked, trying to push her back down. “No need to get up just yet, we can take care of Nathalie later.”

“I just wish to sit up.”

“You do not need to…”

“Stop fighting and help me.” She popped his arm to keep him from holding her down.

“Very well, stubborn lady.” With a smirk, Erik grabbed a couple of pillows and pushed them securely behind her head. “How is this?”

“Better, thank you.” She smiled, then she paused and allowed the smile to fade slightly, her forehead lowering in thought.

He observed her closely, especially her eyes. “What is wrong?”

She laid her hand over Erik’s arm, a gesture that had now become so natural to her it was as easy as breathing, “Erik…what will you do to…”

“Your father?”

She nodded, almost afraid of the answer.

Erik wanted Jean-Pierre Durand dead. He wanted to be the one to do it, taking great pleasure in watching the man gasp his last breath. He thought of a million hideous ways he could do it the whole way back to his home as Danielle slept in his arms. Deep down inside, he knew he still had the capacity to be a cold and calculating murderer. But then he thought of Persia and of his friend, Nadir. He had not killed a soul in a year. He knew Nadir watched silently from the shadows, keeping the promise he had made so long ago, that he would never escape his gaze. At their last visit nearly five months before, the Daroga had expressed how proud he was that Erik had become a success and that he no longer lived underground, hardly seeing the light of day. Did he want to turn back now, abandon it all? Yes. He would do it in a minute to protect Danielle. Revenge be damned, he would do anything for her, all she had to do was say the word. 

“I would love nothing more than to see your father dead, I will not lie to you, but his life is at your mercy. I will do whatever you ask of me.” he told her.

She paused again in thought, his words sinking in. She was angry at her father, yes. 

Resentful? Yes. 

But did she truly want her father to die at Erik’s hands? When she knew, deep down inside, Erik could very well do it without a moment’s hesitation and get away with it?

With each remembrance of the strap being slapped against her skin, she became tempted. But….no.

No matter what he’d done, she knew it was wrong. 

“He is my father and I do not wish him harm. Let him be alone. Let the shop go bankrupt, I no longer care. I shall never go back, and I will make sure Evelyne does not either. What money is left that I stored away, I shall send to her, until she finds another position.”

He nodded. “A wise decision. Keep your money, I will handle everything, Madame Piret and her family will not go impoverished. That, I promise you.”

“You do not have to…”

He put his finger to her lips, shushing her from any further argument. He would not hear of it. If anything at this point, he would lavish the brave Nathalie with anything she desired, rewarding her ten times over for her courage, for if she had not…he shuddered to think of the alternative.

Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled his finger from her lips after brushing it with a small kiss. “Thank you, Erik….I…” her words failed her again. 

So much to say, so much she wanted him to know. But how could she possibly tell him that seeing him come to her, knowing he was willing to kill to protect her…that in that one moment, pain or no pain, she felt safer than she had ever felt her entire life. 

How could she tell him that she’d fallen in love with him? It was impossible, her mind kept telling her. How do you possibly fall in love with a man you have barely known a week much less seen face to face less than that?

He looked down at her soft face, the tear stains from her ordeal thankfully faded away, being replaced by happier ones. Cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb pushing away a tear, he replied, “No, thank you, Danielle. I am just happy that you are here with me now. I know that I am still not forgiven for what I have done and I do not ask it at this time, but I assure you, if you choose to remain here, I shall give you the space you require and perhaps in time you and…I…” he stopped talking when he felt her hand touch his own cheek.

She needed no promises, no guarantees, “I will stay, Erik.”

His very audible gasp of relief spoke volumes.

“Mademoiselle?” Emma’s voice came softly with a knock to her door.

Giving a soft laugh at the timely interruption, she answered, “Come in.”

Erik stood then and looked down at Danielle, and with a playful wink, pretended to be stern, “Do not argue with me anymore. Take a hot bath, then stay in bed and do what Emma says.” He went to the door, then turned back to her, “Or I shall keep the sweet cakes away from you, Mademoiselle”.

And as the door closed behind him, he could hear the two women burst into laughter.

And he smirked.

-------------------------------------------------------

Erik tried to concentrate on his papers, but his mind drifted elsewhere over the past couple of hours since he’d left Danielle’s room. He was elated at her decision to remain in the house. Yet, she had not agreed to continue the ruse of being his wife. Would she want to? He wanted desperately to ask, but, cursing himself for being cowardly, he simply did not have the nerve. He just didn’t what to hear her say no.

“Monsieur?” Jules poked his head inside the library door. 

“Jules.”

“I knocked, but no one answered. Jacques was outside, he told me to come ahead in.”

“That is fine. Emma and Lacie are tending to Danielle upstairs, come in.” he gestured and Jules entered, approaching his desk.

“I brought a large bag with Mademoiselle’s belongings. A couple of dresses, hairbrushes, the book she requested… I gave it to Jacques and he is going to take it up to her room.”

“Excellent, she will be pleased to have them, thank you.”

“How is she?”

“Sore and tired, but better. She has agreed to stay.”

That made Jules smile. “A sensible decision. And of course, agree to continue being your wife?”

Erik looked away, not ready to talk about it. Jules got his answer and understood. “I see. Perhaps she will change her mind in time.”

He nodded and changed the subject, “Now, what about Monsieur Durand?”

“Oh, I do not believe we will be receiving any trouble from him, Monsieur.” Jules smiled.

Erik raised an eyebrow, “Did you have to….?”

“Nothing like that. I simply told him that any involvement with the police would only result in him being arrested for assaulting his daughter, but that it would all be a moot point as he would not survive until a trial anyway. Of course he asked if I was making a threat, I simply shrugged my shoulders.” 

“Of course…”

“I also told him that he should open up the shop tomorrow, just as if nothing had ever happened, but without Danielle or Madame Piret being present. I told him that I would provide a seamstress for him in the interim and if he remained open and silent for seven days, that he would be paid a sum of two thousand francs to do with as he pleased. After that, if he wished to close up the shop, it would be his privilege.

“Two thousand….umm….”

“Yes, I knew he would not turn down such a sum, not after the other day when he practically foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog over the hundred franc note I had put on the counter.”

“Of course not. So, what about Danielle?”

“I told him not to look for her, ever, and that at the end of the seven days, you would allow her, supervised, to contact him, if she so desired.”

He nodded, “Very well. Do you think she will wish to see him?”

“He is her father, no matter what he’s done. But, it is up to her. I am not sure which she will choose.”

“I will inform her of this, then allow her to make the decision for herself. You have done well, thank you. It is late, you can leave now if you wish. I am sure your wife will be pleased to have you home a bit early today.”

“Thank you, Monsieur, I will do just that….” He turned to leave when Jacques burst into the room suddenly. He stopped and bowed at the waist.

“Monsieur Erik.”

Erik looked up at him, “Yes, Jacques.”

He gestured towards the front door and said, “Monsieur Mancia is here.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine Dupré paced around the foyer of her mother in law’s home, too concerned to even take tea on the terrace. Richard typically did not run off without as much as a word. But today, promising they would be leaving before lunchtime, he left, not telling her where he was going. Now it was late afternoon and he had yet to return.

Madame Dupré, on the other hand, was not quite as worried. She knew Richard had not informed his wife of where he was going and had asked her to do the same thing. Catherine simply would not understand why her husband had a desire to visit the grave of a woman he knew years ago, yet had not bothered to tell her about. No, Madame Dupré hummed amusingly to herself, let them work it out for themselves.

“Catherine, dear, come out and have some tea with me and Madame Marchand.” She prompted from the door of the terrace. Jasmine Marchand had arrived not an hour before and had still not stopped making jokingly crude comments to Madame Dupré about Catherine’s milquetoast expression and lackadaisical attitude. She figured if she could get her out there and engaged in conversation, it might shut Madame Marchand’s mouth.

“I do not feel up to tea, not until Richard returns. I am so worried. I hope he has not met with anything….unfortunate.” she sighed sadly. 

The poor girl always thought the worst… Madame Dupré shook her head.

“Perhaps it would be a nice distraction for you, you have never met Madame Marchand and she has been asking for you, plus the children are playing…they so wish for you to be there with them…” she began but was interrupted by the opening of the door.

Richard walked in, looking a bit disheveled, his face scowling. Until he saw Catherine.

“Richard!” Catherine exclaimed.

He stopped and appeared shocked that she was there waiting for him, but truly couldn’t blame her…he was much later than he’d expected he would be.

“Oh, hello, darling.” He put on a hard pressed smile, Madame Dupré noticed. He walked over and gave his wife a soft kiss on the cheek, then turned to his mother, “Hello, Mother.”

She nodded back politely, “Son.”

Catherine waited for him to say something else, to explain where he’d been, why he was so late, but nothing came. He simply walked upstairs to their room and shut the door.

She furrowed her brow and after a few moments, took a deep breath shrugged her shoulders dejectedly and said to Madame Dupré, “I suppose I shall take my tea now.”

“Good idea, dear. Go on out and I shall be there shortly.” Madame Dupré waved her hand with an exasperated exhale.

Wallflower…

Once Catherine had gone outside, however, Madame Dupré took off upstairs. Unlike his wife, she was not going to go another minute without an explanation. His demeanor and facial expression told her that something unsettling had happened.

She stopped at his closed door and knocked, “Richard, may I come in?”

He sighed as he sat alone on the bed, looking at his packed bags gathered on the floor, hearing his children playing happily outside. “Come in, Mother.”

She opened the door slowly, then stepped inside, “You do not look like a man who has closure.” She told him, getting right to the point…no sense in pulling punches.

“You are right, Mother, I do not.”

She walked over and sat down on the bench in front of the bed, “Tell me what happened.”

“I could not find her, Mother. I started out going to Père Lachaise where her mother is buried. I found Geneviève Durand without any trouble, but no sign of Danielle, even an unmarked grave. I went to the records office and they said there was no listing for her. I spent the whole day, all over Paris at every cemetery conceivable…to no avail. There is no listing for Danielle Durand in any cemetery here.”

“Nowhere?”

He locked onto her eyes and answered sternly, “Nowhere, Mother.”

“Perhaps she was cremated?”

“The thought had come to mind, but I vividly recall Jean-Pierre Durand saying the word ‘buried’.”

“So, what does that mean, exactly? That she is not buried in Paris?”

“I do not know. But I cannot leave here until I find the answers. I…” he exhaled deeply, his mind simply too tired to continue thinking.

“Do not think about it anymore today, come to the terrace now. I would love for you to meet Madame Marchand.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Erik’s head dropped into his hands at the very mention of Mancia’s name, “I am in no mood.”

Jacques truly understood Erik’s grimacing face at the mention of Monsieur Mancia and shared it. He despised every inch of the man’s fat, balding headed body ever since he had taken liberties with Lacie. It was certainly no secret to anyone in the house that he and Lacie both had developed feelings for one another, including Erik. More than once, Erik had been temped to let the hot blooded young Frenchman loose to do with Monsieur Mancia as he wished with no reprimand.

“I was not going to let him in, but he says he is here with a message.” Jacques told him. “He said that it was of the utmost importance that it was put directly into your hands and you read it immediately.”

“I see.” Erik answered him.

“Shall I…take the message and remove him from the premises?” Jacques almost smiled at the very idea.

Erik gave an almost inaudible laugh and looked over at Jules, who shook his head, “It does seem important, Monsieur. Perhaps he should stay?”

“Agreed, but no longer than required. Let him in.” Erik relented.

The young man bowed his head and began to leave the room, but no sooner than he grabbed the knob then the door flew open and Monsieur Mancia walked in, an envelope in one hand and a small hunk of bread in the other.

“Good afternoon, Messieurs.” He mumbled, his mouth full of food. 

“You seem to take too many liberties in my home here lately, Mancia.” Erik groaned.

“My apologies for my rather prompt entry, but I could not wait to be introduced.” He quickly finished what was in his hand and wiped the crumbs off on his jacket. “I do recall you hate it when I eat in here…” he laughed.

Jules couldn’t help but crack a smile at Erik’s less than civilized sneer.

Mancia then turned to Jacques as he pulled a coin out of pocket, “Be a good boy and fetch me a glass of brandy from that decanter there.” He threw the coin at Jacques, but he made no move to catch it. Staring, his eyes narrowed, he allowed the coin to bounce off his chest and land to the floor with a loud clank. 

Jacques looked over at Erik, who could hardly contain his pleasure at seeing the young man’s reaction. “You are dismissed, Jacques.”

He nodded politely to Erik and Jules, glared again at Mancia then left the room. He was going to find Lacie and keep her company and out of the hands of the rutting pig.

Erik was growing impatient and his voice was short and to the point, “Monsieur, please state your business, I have had a long day.”

“Simply this, Monsieur Renault.” He held up the envelope as he retrieved his coin off the floor. “I thought you would like to have it immediately.”

Erik gestured to Jules, who took the envelope from Mancia and handed it to him. Then he sat down in front of Erik’s desk to observe him it, as Mancia walked to the window and looked outside…searching for Lacie, no doubt.

Erik read the contents of the envelope and shook his head in dismay and utter irritancy.”

“Monsieur?” Jules leaned forward.

“Bloody hell...” he muttered, letting the message fall onto the desk. “This is not the time for more God forsaken parties.”

“A party?”

“Yes.” Mancia turned around and walked to the desk. Since you had me inform everyone involved of the delay in the inauguration because of the fire, they decided, in the interim, to throw a Grand Opening celebration.”

“In two days.” Erik interrupted, “Two days! Can you believe this?”

Jules gasped, “Will everything be completed by then?”

Erik exhaled slowly, “Yes, everything is completed now, except the repairs that have to be made due to the fire, but they were aware of that.”

“When was this decision made?” Jules asked Mancia, who had taken it upon himself now to get his own glass of brandy from Erik’s decanter. 

He took a huge swallow and answered, “This morning. An emergency meeting of the principal investors was called. Apparently…” he snorted contemptuously, “…an attempt was made to contact Monsieur Renault, but when he could not be reached, they continued without him and was subsequently outvoted.”

Both Erik and Jules knew that was not true. “Ridiculous. I was never made aware.” Erik said.

“I know, I know, Monsieur.” Mancia replied placidly.

“Of course, you are required to be at the grand opening.” Jules piped up.

Erik curled his mouth into a deep frown, “Of course. I am in no mood for a fête. I simply wish to have the inauguration over with and begin business again.”

Mancia paced around the room, “Yes, but you know how much Firmin and André love to have their little celebrations. The more they can show off their opera house, the better.”

Erik snorted. Their opera house…

“No matter, it shall be a grand event. At least your wife shall enjoy it. Besides, where is that lovely wife of yours?” Mancia turned and asked. That caught both Jules and Erik off guard.

“Well…” Erik began, looking at Jules for the first lie either one of them could think of.

“You see…she is…” Jules tried to continue.

A voice from the door interrupted them both.

“I am right here, of course.”

All three men’s eyes flew to the library door where Danielle stood, smiling pleasantly. Her hair was up and fixed with a beautiful blue hairslide that matched her soft blue dress. Not a hint of her assault was present physically on her body, or emotionally on her face.

“Would it not be wise to play hostess and extend a welcome to your guest?” She added with a touch of flare that she was becoming accustomed to.

Mancia approached her, holding out his hand, “Well, good afternoon to you, Madame Renault. You look delightful, but of course I expected no less.”

“Good afternoon, Monsieur Mancia, always lovely to see you again.” She came inside and took Monsieur Mancia’s hand and he kissed her fingers lightly, his eyes glancing Erik’s way. For once, it appeared as if he did not want to overstep his bounds.

Erik stood and came out from behind his desk, keeping his eyes locked onto Danielle’s, almost pleadingly. While he was elated that it appeared she wished to continue the charade, she certainly did not have to keep up appearances this quickly. He could tell she was still in pain.

“I hope my abrupt entry did not disturb you, gentlemen. I was passing by on my way from the garden and heard talk of a grand opening.”

Erik took her hand from Monsieur Mancia’s and walked her over to the couch by the fireplace, “Never a disturbance, love.” He shielded her from Mancia’s view so he could not see her make a pained face as she sat down.

“And yes, there is a celebration.” Mancia added from behind them.

She looked at Erik, “Oh?”

He moved from her and back to his desk where he picked up the envelope. He pulled out an invitation and held it up for her to see. “Yes, they have scheduled a grand opening celebration at the opera house two days from now.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I have yet to really see it in its full splendor.” She laughed.

“So you will attend after all?” Mancia asked.

“No.” Erik said sharply, then turned to Danielle. “If you recall, love, we are due in Boscherville in two days.” He lied.

“We can always send word to Aunt Marie of our delay. This is an important night for you, love. It is only fitting that we attend and celebrate the triumphant grand opening.”

“Are you sure?” he asked her, staring deep into her eyes, trying desperately to read what was behind them.

“Yes, I am very sure. I shall have Emma make the necessary preparations now.”

“Then it is settled.” Mancia laughed. “The little woman has spoken.”

“Is there anything else?” Erik asked him, very aware that he has now overstayed his welcome and even more put off by his use of the word little woman.

“No. I have another appointment….” Mancia checked his pocket watch, “....so if you will all excuse me.” He nodded to Danielle and left the library quickly before any other word could be said.

No one breathed until they heard the front door shut and Jules spotted him going to his carriage.

“He is gone.” He sighed.

“That is indeed a strange man.” Danielle chuckled and Jules let out a laugh of his own.

Erik did not smile, he was too worried, “Danielle…” he began slowly, “…you truly should not be down here. Why are you not in bed, resting?”

“I am fine, actually. Emma patched up some of the deeper welts, but most of the other marks have faded. Thank goodness for a good petticoat.” She giggled again, this time Erik laughed with her.

“Since you two should discuss this further, I believe I shall go home now.” Jules said as he went for the door.

“Thank you for bringing my things, Jules.” She told him.

“You are very welcome, Mademoiselle.” He nodded respectfully to Erik and left the room, being sure to close the door behind him.

“Well…” Erik said to her, “alone again.”

She laughed, “It appears so.”

They sat for a few moments, rather awkwardly. There was so much they both wanted to say, but neither knowing just how they wanted to say it. Danielle fidgeted with the fringe on her gown, finally stopping when Erik’s hand touched hers. Her skin tingled.

“You did not have to come in here and pretend, Danielle.” He told her very plainly. “I was capable of telling Mancia that you were in Boscherville again, or out shopping…or something.”

“I know, but I was right there and it was just best to come inside before he spotted me. Besides…” she looked at him thoughtfully, “I wanted to.”

He inhaled, his eyes widening, not even sure he heard right. “You did?”

“Yes, I did Erik. After all…you did tell my father I was your wife.”

He recalled his words he had said in possessive anger and almost blushed, not realizing she had taken it to heart. “Well…by agreement only.” He responded quickly.

“If you remember, I ended the agreement.”

“But…”

“I am here, Erik, because I want to be here.” She blurted out, then stopped. 

Say it! Just say it!

“You told Jules that…”

“I know what I told him, but I did not like the idea of you having the Vicomtess here in your home….alone.”

Erik smirked, but remained silent. She was showing a jealous side.

“And besides, I do not think she would buy that I am always seemingly gone on long trips, considering how long we have been…married.”

“I do suppose that it would soon grow to be an old excuse.”

She nodded, looked down at Erik’s hand over hers and let herself exhale, “Erik. I have nowhere to go. I belong nowhere.” She looked up to meet his gaze again before continuing, “At least here, I know I feel comfortable, feel welcome. I like Lacie and Emma very much. Everyone is always so kind and considerate of me. My God! I mean, your cook has done nothing but try and get me to eat since I got back here!” she laughed nervously and Erik nodded, “I need to be here. And….I think….you need me.”

“Oh, Danielle.” He came closer and took her into his arms. “I do need you… so very much.”

She melted into his strong embrace, her head laying against his chest and the sound of his heart beating fast was almost music to her ears, yet for all that, she could still not get the image of him and Christine out of her head. She pulled away slightly and regarded him.

He knew what was on her mind. “You are still sure that I want Christine.”

“She is still part of you, part of your past Erik, you cannot deny that.”

His arms still wrapped around her firmly, he lowered his head, capturing her lips with his own. There was no thought of Christine as fire shot through both of them, holding onto each other as if letting go was the kiss of death. Both exhaled as their lips parted to allow their tongues to venture deeper inside, exploring before mingling with the other. 

Erik’s mind raced rapidly as he almost enveloped her small frame within his own. He had been so sure he would never feel her lips like that again, never thought he would be allowed the very privilege of feeling her body against his. His relief, his almost explosive release of tension could have been felt all over the house.

Danielle heard his passionate groan and could feel herself weaken, her body tremble. She let her own mouth emit a gentle gasp just as Erik pulled away from their explosive kiss and whispered softly….

“She is my past, Danielle, but you….you are my future.”

---------------------------------------

Richard proceeded to yawn and his hand flew to his mouth to hide it. Another long hour had passed and he had yet to speak more than a few short words since he arrived on the terrace to have tea with his mother and Madame Marchand. 

That Madame Marchand was sure a gossip! He even noticed amusingly a few times that his mother would roll her eyes at the things that the women seemed to know. Finally, Madame Dupré spoke up, in order to change the subject.

“By, the way, Jasmine, I noticed your daughter had on the loveliest little gown yesterday afternoon. Is it a Madame Boudreaut original?”

“Oh no…I did not have time for Madame Boudreaut to make a gown on such short notice, she was simply backed up out the door!” Jasmine Marchand continued to babble without stopping, “With the coming inauguration, of course…and then dealing with the new investor’s wife…Madame Renault…” she giggled.

Richard stopped yawning and started listening.

“What about her?” Madame Dupré asked.

“You did not hear what happened in her shop a week ago? Oh my! The woman went in for a fitting and was apparently too shy to remove her clothing in front of Madame Boudreaut. Well, she was in such a rush that she began to lose her patience. Well, you know how she can be when she is rushed…she was rather rude to the young woman and suddenly, her husband, Monsieur Renault showed up and he just went off on the poor old woman! It was a sight, I hear. Madame Boudreaut just cowered in the corner like a church mouse!” Madame Marchand laughed.

“Oh my…”

“Oh yes. But, as you saw at the party, the dress she made for Madame Renault was just divine. It would have to be or she would have surely lost business.”

“Yes, I can imagine.”

“So, you see…I made the right decision having my daughter’s dress made elsewhere way before this incident with Madame Renault ever came up, if not, no telling how foul a mood Madame Boudreaut would have been in if I had dared ask.”

“Where did you go? Marceau’s, Ambreville’s…?

“No, Durand’s.” she replied matter of factly through a sip of tea.

“Really?” Madame Dupré asked, looking at Richard, who almost spilled his own cup of tea at the mention of the name.

“Yes. Well, you know….that Jean-Pierre Durand is a strange sort, but a delightful man most of the time. He promised me he could have the gown for me in two days, but of course when I went to pick it up, it had not been finished. I daresay I was rather put off, but he was very apologetic. Oh my, did he turn his anger on to the seamstress…she almost fainted!” she told them.

“Madame Piret.” Richard spoke up. “A shame he has to berate such a charming woman.”

“You met her?” his mother asked him.

“Well, yes of course, she was there when I…” he stopped and shrugged, not wishing for Madame Marchand to hear another word.

“No, he did not call this woman Madame Piret. Danielle…yes, Danielle was her name.” She corrected Richard innocently.

Richard sat up in his seat, throwing a glance at his mother. “What? He called her Danielle, are you sure?”

“Why, yes, very sure.”

“What did she look like? Was she an older woman with dark hair, somewhat graying on the sides?” he described Evelyne perfectly.

“No, this was a younger woman. Slightly red hair, a bit thin, soft features. She kept her head low, so I do not know her eye color, but she was a rather lovely thing, if she wished to be that is…she was rather plainly dressed.”

Richard’s heart skipped a beat, his hands begin to sweat and he wiped them on his trouser legs.

“Jasmine…” Madame Dupré started slowly, “have you ever met Madame Renault?”

“No, I have not, why?”

She threw a glance back at Richard, knowing what he was thinking as well as she was. “So, this woman could not have been Madame Renault.”

That made Jasmine cackle loudly, “A girl like that? A skittish little thing, she was. Certainly not the woman you described to me as Madame Renault. Besides, she must have been Monsieur Durand’s daughter, she referred to him as ‘Father’.

That was all Richard needed to hear. He stood up, looked down at the women and said, “If you will excuse me…” then he said to his mother, “Tell Catherine I had to run out and will return later.” Then he quickly exited the terrace, leaving both women stunned.

Jasmine furrowed her brow, “Was it something I said?”

Chapter Seventeen:

The sun shined brightly into Danielle’s room as Emma pulled up the shade of her window. It hit the young woman’s sleepy face as she said, “Good morning!”

She grimaced and blinked against it, answering in a still sleep induced, lazily hoarse voice. “What time is it, Emma?”

“A little after eight o’clock.” She smiled, approaching the bed.

Danielle’s eyes flew wide open. Eight o’clock! She never slept in that late. “My God! I had no idea…” She immediately sat up, then grabbed her head, reeling from sudden dizziness, “Owwww…”

“Easy, do not try and do too much…”

“But, I did not intend to…”

“It is alright, dear, I let you sleep in, you needed your rest. Breakfast has been prepared for you, I shall have it served downstairs, or up here if you so desire. Would you like me to run a bath for you first?”

She breathed in and out slowly, waiting for the dizziness to be replaced by the inevitable ache in her bones. When it did, she hissed. “Yes, I would prefer a bath first.”

“Of course.”

“What time does the Vicomtess arrive for her tutoring?”

“Within the hour. Monsieur Erik is preparing the music room as we speak.”

Danielle snorted.

Emma could not help but laugh at it, having never heard it come from her before. “Mademoiselle? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I…no, I suppose I am not.”

“I understand, would you like to talk about it?” She sat down on the edge of the bed and waited, knowing she would be ready to get it all out.

It did not take long.

“Am I doing the right thing, Emma?”

“Right thing?”

“Yes. I mean I know that Erik brought me here to keep me away from my father, but I very well could have just taken a carriage to Versailles to be with Michelle. Yet, I chose to stay and without a moment’s hesitation, throwing everything I felt, everything he did, out the window. Now, I wonder…am I making the right decision?”

“What does your mind tell you? Your heart?”

She sighed and looked at Emma deeply, “That is the problem. For so long, I was hardly ever allowed to think for myself. I used to be hard headed, I always went where my mind and my heart told me to go. Then, Richard. Father always told me that if I had been more sensible, I would never have let myself get involved with a man that was so obviously a womanizer, immature….perhaps, he was right.”

“Because you fell in love with the wrong man? My dear, women have been falling for the wrong men for ages now….”

“But I gave my virginity to him. He said he would marry me, he said….”

Emma stopped her with a touch to her cheek. “Mademoiselle, it sounds as if you did not tread foolishly, as you were lead blindly by a manipulative man who was only after one thing.”

She went silent. It was the most simple of notions, yet for some reason, it was as if it was a foreign concept to her.

“Do you not see? You were very young, impetuous and free spirited. Monsieur Dupré should have been more responsible and more respectful.”

“I know…but…”

“But there there, Mademoiselle, you are here now and safe. Whatever your father has to deal with, he can deal with on his own. You will deal with what you need to in time, but for now, it is best to try and put it out of your mind.”

“I tried to put it all out of my mind last night.” She began to babble, “Erik and I spent a great deal of the night in the library in front of the fireplace. We just held each other, Emma…we hardly spoke…and it was the most wonderful feeling. I can not recall when I ever felt so safe and comfortable. I daresay that not even Richard ever did something so wonderful. Most of the time he was simply interested in having sex…” she paused abruptly again. “Pardon me…”

“I know, dear. I was once a married lady; I know what goes on between a man and a woman.”

She laughed a bit nervously, but continued, “Anyway, I know I eventually fell asleep. I felt Erik lift me in his arms, bring me back up here and lay me on the bed, but I do not remember anything after…I…” she looked down and observed she was in a thin nightgown. Her eyes flew to Emma’s. “Oh God, how did I…?”

“Do not worry. Monsieur Erik woke me around two o’clock and asked me to undress you, as you had fallen asleep in your clothing. You had no nightclothes, so I took one of Lacie’s garments that I had just washed for you to wear, until Monsieur Renault can purchase proper ones for you.”

Danielle released the breath she’d been unaware she’d been holding until that very moment, relieved that Erik had not undressed her, yet still a bit disappointed.

Although, she thought to herself, if Erik had undressed her, she would certainly have liked to be awake for it. “Thank you.” She told Emma.

She gave her hand one last squeeze as she stood and began to walk toward the door, “I have laid out your clothing for the day and I shall go now and prepare your bath, then I will return and check your bandages.”

------------------------------------

Madame Dupré had just finished her coffee when she heard Richard coming down the stairs. She had waited up for him the night before after he made his impromptu split from the terrace to find out if he was able to get any information from Jean-Pierre Durand about Danielle, but by the end of dinner, Richard had come home empty handed.

“Monsieur Durand was not there.” He had told her when she met him at the foot of the stairs when he finally returned after eight o’clock that evening.

“Not there?” she had asked, hoping she had not heard right.

“The shop was closed…door locked tight, blinds down. I knocked multiple times and called his name, but nothing.” His eyes had looked so dejected, disappointed.

“In the middle of the day? That makes no sense.” She had told him and he nodded in agreement.

“What will you do now, Son?” she has asked him.

“I do not know, Mother. But I shall not give up, not until I find Monsieur Durand and get the answers I’m after.” He told her, then walked up slowly to his room where he stayed the rest of night, not even coming down to have a late night meal.

Now, she could hear him approaching and she wanted to find out what his plans were. When he passed the sitting room, not noticing her immediately, she called out, “Richard!”

He stopped and took two steps back, his heading turning her way. “Oh! Good morning, Mother.”

With a wave of her hand, she gestured for him to come inside, “Please, tell me…what do you plan to do today?”

“Very simple, I plan on returning to Monsieur Durand’s dress shop.” He said in an almost placid tone, as if it was a ridiculous question to begin with. “I will continue to do that until he opens up again.”

“What if he never does?”

“Then I will track him down.” His voice suddenly rang out with a finality that she did not like. It was so unlike Richard to be this determined over something, much less something that she considered being such a trivial matter.

“Why is it so important to find out if this Madame Renault is really Danielle? I mean, if Monsieur Renault prefers to marry a woman like that, then so be it, it is not our concern.”

“Richard turned to her and blurted out, “Are you really serious, Mother? Monsieur Renault now represents the opera house! His presence, as well as the woman he chooses to marry, is very important. Do you not feel it would be an embarrassment for him to parade a woman around as his wife when she is not who she says she is?”

“Well, of course, but if the woman I met the party is truly Danielle, Madame Renault or not, she had changed dramatically. I found her to be very socially acceptable. She was a delight, charming, graceful…a….”

“A liar! She stood there at the party and at the dress shop and told me I was mistaken! I knew I was not, yet she insinuated to everyone around her that I was quite mad!”

Finally, she understood. “So you are angry about that? It is not for the sake of the opera house, Richard, you wish to prove her wrong simply for the sake of your pride!” she raised her voice also.

“That is beside the point, I…”

“Moreover, it could be quite possible that she has lied to Monsieur Renault also, did you ever think of that?” She interrupted.

That made him pause.

“True, she could have very well lied to him.” He calmed down and began to pace and think out loud, “But, if he does not know her true identity, does he also know about the baby? And if he does know…there is that possibility that the baby did not die and he is out there somewhere and…”

He was stopped by his mother’s gasp. He turned to her and immediately realized his mistake.

“What about the child?” she insisted.

He winced and shook his head, “Well, I did not wish to tell you.”

“Tell me.” She insisted.

“Jean-Pierre told me that the baby…a boy… was stillborn.”

“Oh…” she looked down, a bit saddened at the notion that his child, her grandchild, had not survived. No matter how much she did not want to acknowledge the child for social reasons, she certainly would not wish for it to die.

He continued almost immediately, “But perhaps the child is still alive. That might be why Jean-Pierre lied, he was afraid I might try to take the child from him.”

She approached him and touched his arm, “Is that what you wish?”

“No, Mother. Yes, when I heard the child was a boy, I actually thought about taking the child for myself, especially now that Catherine cannot have anymore…but no, it is truly not what I want. If the child is alive, I would like to perhaps see him, make sure that he is well, that he is taken care of. I should have done that years ago and I am ashamed that I did not. I have no use for Danielle otherwise.”

She sighed in genuine relief, “Good, because that girl was trouble to begin with and in my opinion, she is still causing trouble. If you are determined to become entangled with her again, I hope it is only for the sake of the child.”

He placed his hand over hers and looked down at her. A lovely woman she was, always thinking of how the great Dupré’s are perceived. He would not dare make an embarrassment of their name. “Trouble or not, I will find the answers.” He assured her before he turned and headed for the door.

---------------------------------------------

Jean-Pierre reluctantly opened the blinds of his shop after unlocking the door and removing the ‘closed’ sign. Earlier that morning, he’d heard a knock at the door of the shop and when he went to answer it, an older woman stood there before him. Béatrice Trudeau, she said her name was, and she had been sent by Jules Bernard to help out in the shop. She seemed nice enough, he had observed as he let her in. She seemed to know nothing of what had transpired the day before and was eager to begin and dispensed with any unneeded chit chat. He kept the shop closed while he showed her around, telling her where everything was and what current projects needed to be completed and when they were due to be picked up. She said she could manage and sat down to begin while Jean-Pierre went back upstairs to clean up and figure out how to make his own breakfast.

That was more than an hour ago.

Now he sat back on his stool behind the counter, looking over the books, not a word or sound coming from the backroom. He suddenly missed the laughing chatter that came from Evelyne as she sewed. Even his daughter…at least her presence, as almost invisible as it was, still left an impression in the empty shop.

Danielle…

He thought back again to the events of the previous day.

He had to sit in a chair in his own sitting room as Jules Bernard gathered up Danielle’s belongings. Jules had made him talk constantly so his voice could always be heard in an effort to make sure he stayed in one place. He didn’t protest. By the time the young man had begun to lay down the terms, he was in no mood to argue anything. He’d had enough. He had wholeheartedly agreed to two thousand francs in seven days. Seven days. In that amount of time, he could be away from Paris, away from his daughter and never look back. Once Jules left, all he remembered after that was drinking his brandy and falling asleep.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Richard came storming inside. When Jean-Pierre looked up and saw Richard, his mouth dropped. He was truly the last person he expected to see again. “Monsieur Dupré…”

Richard did not have time for any pleasantries, nor would he waste a word, “Durand. No more games, I want to know the truth, where is Danielle?”

Jean-Pierre stammered, “I told you, Monsieur, she is…”

Richard grabbed the old man by the collar and pulled him to his face. This tone dropped dramatically, “I searched the cemeteries. I looked up records. There is nothing, not even a death certificate on her.”

Durand silently struggled against Dupré’s grasp, but Richard was far from finished, “I know that Danielle was seen in this shop just a week ago. I know you called her by name and she referred to you as Father.”

He gasped then and shook his head, trying in vain to deny it all, to come up with another lie.

“Shall I bring in Madame Marchand to confirm this?” he almost growled in his face.

Then he remembered. Danielle being late…not finishing the gown…

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."

When Jean-Pierre’s eyes widened in recognition, Richard knew the answer. “Do not deny it. It is no use. Tell me where she is, or I shall hire a private detective to come here and tear this place apart, inch by inch. Is that understood?”

Jean-Pierre panicked. The thought of a stranger going through his personal belongings was too much for him to handle. His mind began to close in on itself and all he could think of now was getting rid of Richard, even if it meant telling him the truth. Anything than to have his privacy invaded, he’d burn down the whole shop first.

Yet, as he opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly thought back to the deal he had made with Jules Bernard. Two thousand francs for remaining silent for seven days. To hell with Danielle, the spoiled brat always got away with everything! He still thought of the masked man’s words, ‘and she is my wife.’ Again, it had appeared that his daughter had shamed him. The very thought of her running off and marrying someone in secret! And someone in a mask! He was very well aware of the reports that came out a year ago about the Opera Ghost. He wore a mask. His only child, now married to a murderer, a man who burned the Garnier. Inconceivable!

He looked at Richard and decided. He’d tell a few choice things, oh yes, but it would cost him.

“How much is it worth for you to know?” he suddenly smirked.

Richard frowned. Here it was, down to money. He didn’t care, as long as he knew the truth. “Name your price, old man.”

“Five thousand francs.”

He almost choked. Five thousand! “You must be mad.” He told him.

“Possibly, but if you want to know what I know….” He almost whistled in arrogance.

Richard let go of his collar and snorted loudly. He reached into his wallet and pulled out all he had, two thousand francs and he put it on the counter. “Tell me what you know now and take the two thousand. Tonight I will return and provide you with the difference.”

“How can I trust you will return?”

“I am an honest man, Monsieur. I keep my word.”

“And if I refuse?”

Richard kept a tight grip on his money. “Information or no, I will walk out of here and you get nothing. Tomorrow, an investigator will come here and begin searching.”

Talk now and get two thousand, plus three thousand tonight, or remain silent and get two thousand in seven days….he mulled it over and decided he wanted money now. Besides, he could still continue to pretend until the seven days was up and get another two thousand. Brilliant!

“You have a deal.”

-------------------------

It was midday before Richard returned to the Dupré home and found his mother alone in her sewing room embroidering. She heard the door open and she waited for him to find her.

“Mother!” he called out from the foyer.

“Sewing room, son!” she answered.

She could hear his heavy footsteps move rapidly up the staircase and before long, he appeared at her door, a bit disheveled, but with a rather satisfied smile.

“Is Michelle and the children here?”

“No, they have gone into town.”

He exhaled in relief, dying to tell her the good news out of the way of his wife, who, by that time, had begun to ask questions of her own. He was not ready to answer them just yet.

Madame Dupré could almost feel the air shift with his changing mood, “Did you speak with Monsieur Durand?” she gestured for him to enter.

He came inside and sat down in a small chair by the window, “Yes.”

“And?”

“He confirmed it. Danielle is indeed very much alive.”

“Oh my! So she is Madame Renault!”

“He did not confirm that, but I am sure she is.”

“Wait, he did not tell you she was married? I do not understand.”

“It is hard for me to piece together too. He said up until yesterday, Danielle had been living under his roof…their apartment above the shop. The past week, though, she had been taking trips to visit her cousin Michelle in Versailles and ever since then she had changed. Then suddenly, yesterday, they got into an argument and a man burst in, he said he wore a white mask on one half of his face…”

“Monsieur Renault!”

“Yes,” he continued, “Jean-Pierre said he took Danielle with him and said she was his wife. He claims it was the first he’d heard of it.”

“But The Renaults have apparently been married six months!” she answered.

“I know and I told Monsieur Durand the whole story of how they apparently met and married. He was very shocked, especially the use of a different name. He confirmed that Michelle was not her middle name, it is Andrée. He also said there was no way that Danielle could have gone anywhere near Boscherville six months ago. She never left the shop, except to visit the market and run short errands. That was until last week when she went to Michelle’s under the pretense of helping her with a difficult pregnancy; she continued going there at least three times and was almost always late coming back.”

“So Monsieur Renault saw Danielle in Versailles?”

Richard shrugged slightly, taking a deep breath and laying his head against the chair. “It is entirely possible. Nothing for sure of course.”

Madame Dupré started fanning herself, “This….it is all so confusing…”

He crooked his head but did not raise it, “I know, but most important, Mother is that it now appears that the marriage between Madame and Monsieur Renault has either been altered, or is a lie altogether. No matter, I plan on finding her and finding out where my child is. I truly do not care about the marriage.”

“What makes you think….? Did he say the child lived?”

“No. He would not talk about the child, which makes me think that he was put up for adoption and they do not want me to track him down. Madame Marchand made no mention of a child hanging around the shop. Believe me, when I told him I found no grave for the child, as well as for Danielle, he clammed up very quickly.”

“So, do you know where Monsieur Renault’s home is?”

“No, I do not. Everyone I checked with at the opera house is either in the dark, or too loyal to tell. I did find out something interesting though….”

“Yes?”

“I found out that the Renaults will be attending the grand opening tomorrow night.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Monsieur Mancia was more than happy to tell me that bit of news when I spoke to him not long ago.”

“So you will go after all? I know you had said that you planned on take Catherine and the kids home.”

“I shall be going now, believe me. Mancia gave me an invitation. Yet, considering what I have to do, I think it is best to send Catherine home with the children. She will not like it, but she’ll understand. It will be the only way I can truly track down Danielle and get any kind of information.”

-----------------------------

Emma had no sooner helped Danielle with the laces of her new gown before Lacie knocked on the door of the closed Rose Room.

“Mademoiselle….” Danielle heard, followed by a slight giggle, “I mean…Madame?”

Danielle glanced at Emma and they both let out a lighthearted laugh.

“Come in, Lacie.”

The young maid opened the door just enough to stick her brunette topped head inside. “Forgive the interruption, but the Vicomtess has just arrived, and…” she stopped and gasped at Danielle’s gown.

Danielle narrowed her eyes and regarded Lacie for a moment, wondering what had come over her, until she looked down. The gown she was wearing was by no means as extravagant as the one she wore to the party, but it was nonetheless elegant. It was a dark green, her preferred color over the more plain colored gowns she was told to wear by her father. It was light and soft and billowed out when she spun around in front of the mirror. The three quarter sleeves covered her bruising arms, yet let just enough shoulder show that it still appeared to be very youthful and feminine.

“The gown?” she asked Lacie.

“Oh yes, its just lovely. The color brings out your eyes.”

She had no idea how the gown found its way to her bed while she was bathing and neither Emma or Lacie were ready to explain anytime soon, if they knew anything at all. She would remind herself later to ask Erik. Right now, she had to get downstairs to play hostess.

Her wiggling impatience made Emma groan at her, “Please, just another lace and I am finished….yes…there…you are ready.” She stood back and looked at her. “Indeed, you are gorgeous.”

“Thank you Emma.”

“You look wonderful, Madame.” Lacie said.

“Lacie…you do not have to call me Madame…Danielle will do.”

“Monsieur Erik has told us that we must refer to you as Madame, to keep in practice while the Vicomtess is present.”

She glanced at Emma, who nodded. “Yes, he told us this morning we were not to refer to you as Danielle, even in private...”

“I suppose, for the sake of this ruse, I can understand his reasoning. But when it is over, no more Madame. Danielle only, is that understood?”

Both maids nodded emphatically and the discussion was over.

“Well, wish me luck.” she gathered herself as she headed for the door.

-----------------

“Why, Erik, your music room is simply divine!” Christine exclaimed after she was shown inside by Lacie. “Much different than your old home, of course.”

“I left that home and life behind, Christine. Very few things remain that were not destroyed in the fire, of course.” He gestured to a small glass enclosure where a few pieces of burned sheet music sat, an old black, soot encrusted candelabra, along with his beloved Persian music box. She walked over and looked inside, almost reminiscing.

“That is all the remains?”

“Yes. All that could be salvaged by myself and Monsieur Bernard.”

“Your pipe organ?”

“Gone.” He replied almost detached.

“The mirrors?”

“Broken.”

She swallowed, “The swan bed?”

“Burned beyond repair.”

She let out a sigh and shook her head, turning back to the display. “Such a shame.”

“Why is that?” he asked. “Things change, times change…people change. It is a fact of life.” He chose to remain at his piano, which had a great view of the open door that led to the foyer and to the first steps of the staircase. He wanted to be right there to see Danielle come down for the first time. He crossed his fingers that the gown he had sent over from Madame Boudreaut in the wee hours of the morning was the right size and style for her. He had ordered it sight unseen yesterday evening, only specifying a color….green. It was a color he had yet to see her wear.

“Well…” Christine started to say as she turned around to look at him. “I guess because everything that meant something to you is now gone. It is the first place that you brought me, the first place you sang and played for me and…” she stopped cold, realizing he was not looking her way. Had he even heard a word she said? “Erik, are you even…”

Danielle had just stepped off the last step of the staircase when she looked into the open door of the music room and saw Erik standing by the piano. Had he been there waiting for her? It almost seemed as if he beamed at her, his eyes glistened like light green emeralds. She could not help but almost feel a bit giddy at the sight of him standing there wearing his black trousers and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. No jacket, no vest or cravat. It was his look and he wore it with style.

Erik’s heart leapt at the sight of her. The gown was a perfect match in every way. Not only did it fit her faultlessly, it was also a most attractive color. It almost made her skin glow, her soft, strawberry blonde hair shined by contrast. His eyes flew to her bodice, which accentuated the ivory skin of her bosom, just dotted with small freckles. Instantly, he could feel his body strain as he tried to hold back his growing want.

Danielle heard the incessant chatter of the Vicomtess suddenly cease and gathered herself, quickly walking inside, ready to play her part, “Good morning, love.” She addressed him pleasantly.

He reached for her hand and kissed it, “Good morning, did you sleep well?”

“Very, and later than I should have. I noticed you rose early. When I woke, you were gone. I find that I do not wish to grow accustomed to feeling your side of the bed cold.”

Erik glanced slightly at Christine, taken back by Danielle’s words, but was amused by them nonetheless. Her normally quiet, sweet voice was now sodden with a sultriness that he had not heard before.

And he liked it.

Alas, he wished her words were true. If they had been, he would have been determined that his side of the bed would never be cold.

The sight of the loving newlywed couple made Christine blanch, but she put on a cordial tone for the sake of socialization. The sooner Madame Renault was out of the room, the better. “Madame Renault, it is so nice to see you again.” She came forward to her.

Danielle pasted a smile for the Vicomtess and replied, “My apologies, I did not immediately see you…it is so lovely to see you again, Vicomtess, welcome to our home.”

Christine sucked in a breath, “Thank you very kindly. I hope to find you in better health today. Such a shame you had to leave the party due to a silly little headache. Surely, you are not one of those who succumb to a headache at the first little upset.”

Danielle’s lips curled in a satisfied sneer.

“I appreciate your concern, but I am quite well thank you. My headaches tend to follow moments of great annoyance, nothing more.”

Erik inhaled sharply at Danielle’s reply. Christine was not amused, but had trouble determining if what was said was truly meant as an insult as it appeared that Danielle’s tone and demeanor was not in the least bit arrogant.

“I was just admiring some of the items that Erik kept from his old home at the opera house. A shame that you never got to see it, Madame Renault, it was quite extraordinary. I had the pleasure of visiting there a couple of times myself.” She gestured to the glass enclosure.

Danielle had noticed the items behind the glass the last time she was in there with Erik, but chose not to ask. Now, she wished she had, just for knowledge’s sake. She gathered herself anyway. “Oh yes, lovely items indeed, but…well, as you can see...” she gestured around the room at the fine things he had purchased in the past year, “Erik now tends to put the things from his past…uh, shall we say…on a shelf? Collecting dust, if you will, as he moves on to his future…”

Christine’s eyes narrowed into slits, her hands balling up into fists at her side. Danielle did not change her stance, preferring to look up at Erik and say, “…is that not right, darling?”

He gave her a smile and a small wink, then turned to Christine, “Perhaps we should begin our lesson, Chris….uh….Vicomtess. I wish to take my wife out later.”

“Oh yes, I understand. In fact my time is limited and I have no need for idle chatting today myself, as I have to attend my final gown fitting before returning here for our afternoon lesson.” She answered quickly, with a glare to Danielle.

Danielle’s eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. Afternoon lesson? She certainly had not expected that. She glanced at Erik but he simply shrugged his shoulders helplessly and said, “Yes, of course. Danielle is very understanding, is that not right?”

She relaxed her gaze and replied to Christine, “Of course, it is quite understandable. I hear that, at this point, you need all the help you can get.” Erik lowered his head to contain his amusement and kissed Danielle on the cheek before moving to sit behind the piano. She smiled back at him. “The sooner the lesson is finished, the sooner the Vicomtess can go about her other important duties. So, if the two of you will excuse me….”

She walked to the door, stopped and turned around to Erik and said, “And perhaps after the afternoon lesson is finished, darling….we could request that Emma bring us our dinner to our bedroom instead?”

Then she left the music room, closing the door behind her, leaving Erik with a satisfied smirk and Christine in stunned silence.

-------------------------------

“So, as you can see, Monsieur Mancia, these startling revelations must be kept out of the public eye for the sake of the Opera House….” Richard said to him as he sat behind his desk at the Opera House after listening to the young man tell him everything about Danielle….their past, the fake name, Jean-Pierre’s deception, and most importantly, about the baby. He took a swig of brandy to give him time to sort it out.

“You realize just how incredible this all is.” He said, hissing down the strong liquid.

“Of course I do, but I have evidence to back up my claims.”

“Yes? And what is that?”

“I sent a special courrier to St-George church in Boscherville where they were apparently married; he wired back and said there was no record of them having married a couple six months ago by the names of Erik Renault and Danielle, or Daniella or Marie, or anyone like that. The courrier will be returning to me later tonight with a copy of the records.”

Mancia shook his head, “Then what do you plan to do?”

“Very simple, I have scheduled a Board meeting of all the investors and owners for day after tomorrow, the day after the grand opening. At that time, I will present this evidence to them and inform them that if they do not get rid of Erik Renault immediately from any investment purposes concerning the opera house I will go to the Époque and expose him and the board’s unwillingness to get rid of such a scandal.”

Mancia’s mouth dropped, his double chin flopping in front of his tight collar. “This is madness.”

“Perhaps, but did I not hear you say, just a day after the party, that Erik Renault was becoming too powerful and that you regretted ever helping him gain majority control?”

“Only because he has yet to cut me in on the percentages he promised me. I might wish to destroy him financially, but I have no qualms with his wife….”

“Danielle is insignificant. If all goes well, I plan to move my wife and children back here to my family home and work on regaining majority control over the opera house.”

“But you could do that without resorting to such public measures…” He paused, then spoke again, “….wait, did you not tell me that you were going to be at the grand opening tomorrow night also? Why not just confront Renault in private? He might curtail to blackmail rather than have his wife disgraced.”

“Oh, I intend on confronting Danielle alone, only to find out where my child is. I plan on telling her that if she simply cooperates with me, I will prevent anyone from removing her husband from the opera house. Of course, when she tells me where the child is, I certainly do not plan on keeping my end of the bargain. Besides, I know of Monsieur Renault’s past…I know he has no problem killing anyone in his way. I prefer not to deal with the man in private.” He rubbed his throat thoughtfully. “Have you not ever heard the old saying, ‘keep your hand at the level of your eyes’? Well, that is exactly what I am doing…metaphorically speaking.”

Mancia went silent, as any further argument would prove futile; Dupré had made up his mind. As much as he loved the thought of having Erik out of the opera house now, he knew that if Erik went, so did any chance of him seeing his percentages. Plus, he did like Danielle, a lot. He mused many a night about the treasures of beauty that was in the Renault house, and not just with the lady of the house, but with the hired help. With Erik gone, he knew the man would have no more use for him and therefore would never be invited to his home again. But, despite all that, he knew what he had to do. He would go at once to Erik and warm him of Monsieur Dupré’s findings and plan.

“So, are you in agreement, Monsieur?” Richard asked, impatiently tapping on Mancia’s desk with a dried fountain pen.

Mancia nodded, “Yes, we are.”

“And of course, you will keep silent about this, not a soul must know of my plans.”

With a sly grin that made his fat cheeks bubble, Mancia replied, “Of course.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danielle had time while Erik was tutoring Christine to take closer inspection of his garden. Wrapped just in a soft cashmere shawl over her arms, the cold air did not even seem to bother her as the sun was shining bright and warm above.

Nearly four hours had passed since she had left them alone in the music room. She had gone all over the house, looked at every room, inspected every sculpture and even followed Lacie around on her daily cleaning chores, begging to help, but getting refused.

She was bored.

What did high society women do during the day anyway? She had read through at least three literature books that Erik had in the Rose Room. She had rearranged every knickknack shelf she could find and had even taken to sneaking down to the kitchen, to help clean or mop the floor, only to be found and playfully shushed away by Gisèle, Erik’s cook.

“What could they be doing in there?” she asked herself out loud as she bent over to touch a light colored leafy vine that was running along a trellis at the side of the house. “What could possibly be so important that would keep them four hours?”

“Three hours, forty-five minutes, to be exact,” came a voice behind her. She turned to find Erik walking slowly towards her, taking long, luxurious strides. She found that extremely appealing and could not take her eyes off of him. He held up his pocket watch to show her as he approached. “I kept a close watch on the hour.”

“Then you intended to keep the Vicomtess to such a late hour.”

“Actually, no, and for that, I apologize. She was most stubborn and a few times I refused to continue until she calmed down.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, frustration, mind you. She has never had problems with her voice in the past, yet for a long time I had always told her that the voice must never go unused or she would lose it. She did not believe me. Now, she is learning the hard way. Needless to say, she is not taking it well.”

“Will she be able to do the role?”

He smiled down at her, “Yes, I believe so. She is willing for the most part to try, and that helps. But let us not talk about her anymore, she has gone.” He offered his arm to her and she took it gratefully. “I wish to talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“What did you do in my absence?”

“Well, I ventured into some of the rooms and looked around, I read some books, offered to help Lacie clean, snuck down to the kitchen…”

He laughed, “In other words, you were bored.”

“Horribly so!” she returned his laugh.

“I apologize, I know you are not used to being idle during the day. Is there anything I can get for you that would help?”

“I would like to do some sewing. Maybe even some embroidery or smocking. I had some projects started at home.”

“I will send Jules for them, if you wish. Tomorrow?”

“Lacie promised that she and I would visit the stables tomorrow after she finished her chores. Jacques said he would saddle us some horses if the weather was nice. Perhaps the day after the party? I will be sure to tell Jules where I left the sewing kit.”

“Anything you wish.” He then regarded her gown, “I hope the garment is satisfactory, it truly becomes you.” He said.

“It is beautiful, thank you.”

“The courrier from Madame Boudreaut’s shop informed me that she has several more gowns similar to this and would be happy for you to have them. When we pick out your gown for the grand opening, you can look at the other ones and pick which ones you prefer.”

She taunted playfully, “and if I wish to have them all?”

“Then, of course, you shall have them all.” He answered simply, not understanding the humor.

She could not help but giggle. “Oh Erik…I do not require so many garments. I shall pick two that are sufficient.”

“Just two? A lady needs more than two.” He stopped on the veranda and looked down at her. “I wish to give you all you need, do you not understand that?”

“I have all that I need. I have a roof over my head, I have food, I have clothing…”

“Then tell me all that you wish, desire, want…anything. Just tell me and it is yours.”

She stared into his eyes, “First of all, I wish for freedom, the freedom that Father has denied me for so long, Erik. Can you give me that?”

He took a small step closer and placed one arm around her waist, while his other hand brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers delicately, “Yes. You are free to come and go as you please here, the carriage and Jacques are at your disposal.”

She sighed, but continued, “And I desire happiness, laughter and friendship. Can you give me that?”

“Yes.” He put both arms around her now and pulled her gently to his body, “Your laughter has already been heard ringing through these empty halls….Emma and Lacie may be my employees, but they like you very much and wish for your friendship.”

“And yours?”

He nodded, then fell silent.

Another pause, another awkward moment when two people wish to say so much that they cannot form a single word.

“And want?” he finally asked.

“Want?” her mind could hardly function.

Snap out of it, Danielle!

“I want…”

He leaned down to her, his lips brushing her cheek, his fingers wrapping around her soft, long hair, letting it flow through his fingers like water, “Yes, Danielle, what do you want?”

“I only want…you.”

She gripped his hair in her hands and she pulled him to her lips as an almost desperately hungry and all consuming passion swept through her, their kiss so hard that she was sure her lips would bruise, but did not care. Erik bent at the knees and wrapped his arms around her even tighter before standing and lifting her off her feet, their kiss never breaking. He walked over to the chaise on the veranda and laid her gently down upon it. His hands stroked her neck delicately, his thumbs moving up and down just below her ears and she gasped at the wonderful sensation as she felt his body settle down upon hers, neither caring that they were in full view of anyone who might pass by the foyer and see them.

“Oh, Erik, I love when you touch me like that…” she whimpered as she broke away from his intense kiss, panting to gather her breath, determined to dive in for another.

He could barely contain his growing desire, “I wish to continue pleasing you. Tell me…tell me how you wished to be touched, Danielle….” His hips moved against her almost lazily as his lips brushed along her jaw line.

She could only whimper in response, her mind racing with all the possible things he could do to her, the feelings he could bring out in her, if she just let him. And she would let him.

But….

From the foyer, they could both hear Jacques calling out as he searched for them, “Monsieur? Madame? The carriage is waiting outside!”

With a frustrated groan, Erik pulled away, giving himself a few moments to cool his body down before saying, “I shall have him shot for this,” half joking, half serious.

She let out a soft snicker, sitting up slowly to gather her thoughts and straighten her hair, and dress. “You shall have him shot, I shall have him beheaded.” She looked right at him and they both started to laugh.

He shifted his weight then and felt it, the bulge in his pocket and gave a deep, throaty laugh. “I almost forgot.”

“She regarded him curiously, then also noticed something protruding from the pocket of his trousers. “What is that?”

“Something very important…” he pulled out from his pocket the all too familiar little velvet box. Danielle knew exactly what it was now. She had not forgotten about it. Even thought it was only on her finger for a short time, she felt the loss.

He opened the box and took the ring from it. “I was going to give it to you earlier this morning before Christine’s arrival, but you were bathing. I do not believe she noticed its absence.” He took her hand and placed the ring on her finger.

“I missed it.” She said as she fingered the ring admiringly.

“It belongs on your hand only, Danielle. No matter what happens, promise never to take it off again, please.”

“I promise, Erik. This ring shall never leave my finger.”

He stood and helped her to her feet, hearing all he needed to hear. “Let us go to Madame Boudreaut’s now, but tonight… I am giving everyone the night off and we shall not be disturbed, I promise you.” He placed her hand on his arm and they started into the house.

That idea she liked, a lot.

Chapter Eighteen:

Danielle’s laughter could be heard all the way into the house as Emma ran down the staircase to open the door for them. Outside, just exiting the carriage were Danielle and Erik. Jacques was already ahead of them, holding several packages in his arms, while Danielle was reaching to carry two very attractive hat boxes.

Emma came outside, holding the door open wider for Jacques to go ahead of her. “Good afternoon, Monsieur Erik, Madame Danielle.” She said loudly, almost too loudly, her eyes shifting towards the house. Her emphasis on the word Madame, a word she had not used in regards to Danielle, did not go unnoticed by either of them.

“Good afternoon, Emma.” Danielle said very stuffily, knowing something wasn’t right and she needed to play along. She then turned to Jacques, “Put my purchases in the bedroom, Jacques, and careful not to mess them up.”

Erik nodded at Emma, then leaned in close to her, “What is wrong?” he asked.

“Monsieur…” her voice was barely audible, “That detestable Monsieur Mancia is here, he has been waiting in your library for a half hour now, I did not wish for either of you to enter the house until you were forewarned.”

Erik let out a groan, but patted Emma on the arm, “Thank you, Emma, always a safe precaution.”

Danielle sighed. More interruptions. What in the world did he want now? “Were you expecting him?” she asked Erik.

Just as he shook his head no, the three of them suddenly heard a blood curdling scream coming from inside the house.

“What the…” Erik muttered as he ran for the open front door, with Danielle and Emma following close behind.

Once they entered the foyer, it was evident what caused the scream:

Lacie was standing two steps up the staircase, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with a fearful stare and now brimming with tears. On the floor in front of her was Monsieur Mancia, on one knee, holding his jaw, streams of blood pouring and pooling onto the marble floor. Standing over him was Jacques, rubbing his hand and looking down at Mancia with an angry, but satisfied glare. “If you ever touch her again, I shall not stop myself so quickly.” The young man hissed in a low and menacing tone, “But if you prefer, we can continue this outside, now…..”

While the ladies gasped, Erik ran over and stood by Jacques, holding him back with one arm over his chest.

“What happened here?” his voice was authoritative, but not angry.

“Did you not hear? He has threatened me!” Mancia gurgled with a mouthful of blood. He took his handkerchief and put it against his split lip.

“Monsieur…” Lacie began but was so overcome she was not able to speak. Emma ran over to her and then noticed her torn dress. 

So did Erik.

“Monsieur, I came down from the bedroom after delivering Madame’s packages to find Lacie running toward me from the library, her gown was torn. She was hysterical…Monsieur Mancia…was coming after her. I did not ask what happened, Monsieur, I simply….stopped him.” Jacques growled under clenched teeth.

Emma went pale, realizing she had not warned Lacie to stay away from the library due to Mancia’s presence. “Oh my, I did not know she would clean the library today, she was in the kitchen and….”

“I…went….to the library…Monsieur Erik asked me to retrieve some books for Madame Danielle….and…” Lacie started sobbing then, but managed to continue, “he offered me a job in his home. I refused. He got angry and tried to grab me, but he got my skirt instead and it ripped…yet, he did not stop…I ran and saw Jacques and…..” Emma held the frightened girl to her as Danielle came next to her and squatted down. She took her hand and held it.

“The bloody nerve!” she glared at Mancia, then back at Erik.

Erik’s eyes grew dark and cold then as Mancia managed to stand and began to rant, “Monsieur Renault! Is this the kind of household you run? A household where a gentleman like myself is assaulted by a servant?”

Erik approached and got in his face, staring him down, “No, I do not run a household like that, but I do run a household where my employee can defend a woman who is being accosted by a ….” he spat out, “…gentleman.”

“I insist you take this young man to the police, immediately!”

“No one will go to the police!” Erik almost screamed in the man’s face. “I told you the last time you touched my employee that I would not be so accommodating. You are treading on thin ice, Mancia. Do not get me angrier than I am now by insinuating police involvement. If I had known for a second what he was doing before I came in here, I promise you, I would have allowed him to kill you! You are no longer welcome in my home, any business in the future will be conducted at the opera house. If you come here again, I will not prevent any repercussions. Do I make myself clear?”

Holding his cheek, Mancia chose wisely not speak another word. 

Bloody fool! He has just signed his own ticket to the poor house! Let Dupré have him!

He moved away from Erik, threw a harsh glare at Jacques, and left the house.

Everyone let out a breath, even Erik.

“Monsieur, I apologize…” Jacques started, leaning in away from the ladies view, but Erik threw up his hand.

“No apologies, you did what any gentleman would do…or a man in love…”

Both men went over to where the ladies were sitting on the staircase. Jacques took Lacie in his arms and held her, stroking her hair, allowing her to cry. Erik leaned behind Danielle and put his hand to the small of her back. 

She turned to him and smiled, “Now perhaps would be a good time to give them the night off.” She suggested.

“Of course, a sensible idea.” He leaned in and kissed her hair, then looked at Emma. “Take Lacie and clean her up, then pass the word around that everyone has the night off.”

“Umm…I wonder why Monsieur Mancia was here to begin with,” she said as she brushed the back of her hand against Erik’s cheek. They watched silently for a few moments as Emma, Lacie and Jacques left for Lacie’s bedchamber.

“Sighing heavily, he held Danielle hand as she stood and replied, “I do not know, but it must not have been very important.”

---------------------------------------------------

As Erik remained in his music room, preparing for Christine’s arrival, Danielle had spent time putting away her gowns before deciding to go down into the library to retrieve the books that he had initially sent Lacie for. When she walked inside, she was astonished to find several books on the floor. She surmised that they had been left by Lacie’s abrupt departure from the library and began to pick them up, stacking them neatly on the coffee table so she could look through them. Yet, within minutes, her eyes scanned the immaculate library, looking it over as if it was the first time she had been in it. Perhaps, in a way, it was. 

She noticed things she had never noticed before… from the dark mahogany beams that ran along the high ceiling, to the meticulous, rather ornate carvings etched in the legs of the desk, to the most delicate looking porcelains figurines she had ever seen that sat in a glass enclosure along the wall behind it. She studied them closely, wondering where he got the lovely pieces when something else caught her eye. Draped across his desk chair was a jacket. A long, black velvet smoking jacket. It was the first thing she noticed Erik wearing during their first meeting…after the mask of course. In fact, during that same meeting, she found herself staring at it, noticing its smartly embroidered gold detailing around the neck and sleeves. It was perhaps the only thing that kept her from a total nervous breakdown.

How long ago it seemed since that first meeting, her mind recalled as she stood and walked over to the desk chair. She ran her finger along the jacket. It was as smooth as she had perceived. She lifted it from the back of the chair and held it close to her. Inhaling, she could smell him as if he was right in the room with her. Then she giggled…she wanted to put it on. A silly time to be playing dress up, she thought to herself, but she was free to do as she wished, and she wished to have it wrapped around her…as she wished Erik’s arms were around her. 

There was no mirror in the library, so after she put the jacket on and wrapped it around her, holding up the excess that pooled in the floor at her feet, she walked over to the window and caught her reflection. She rubbed the soft arm sleeves with her hands up and down. She playfully spun around, the light fabric billowing out from her. That made her laugh.

“I daresay, you look much nicer in my garment than I do.” Erik’s unmistakable voice broke the silence of the room. She turned to find him leaning against doorframe to the entrance of the library, his arms folded over his chest.

At that moment, she could not help but think he was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. “How long have you…? She gasped.

“Long enough to see you enjoying my library in my absence.”

“You should not sneak up on people and eavesdrop.”

“Perhaps not, and perhaps you should not touch things that do not belong to you.” He retorted playfully.

“I…do not know….” She started.

“May I remind you that you are wearing the evidence, Mademoiselle.”

She looked down and blushed, “Oh…I suppose so.”

He laughed then and she instantly felt herself at ease.

She turned away and headed toward the desk again to replace the jacket where it belonged, “I will remove it if you so desire.”

“Danielle….” He sighed deeply, his voice dipping low and smooth, “There are many things I so desire…so wish for you to remove for me….I can assure you that jacket is the last thing I am concerned with.”

“Umm…” her voice stammered. How could she possibly respond to that? She turned and looked at him. My God this was truly insane! He could make a smile come to her lips anytime, and with not so much as a single word. Finally, she gathered herself and changed the subject slightly, “Did you have this made? It is an immaculate garment.” She figured it was simply safer that way. After all, he was there, she was there….and there was a couch, a chair…a floor….and they were alone.

“It is a replica of one I had when I lived in the opera house. That one was destroyed in the fire. That same tailor made me this one.”

“Well, I do say he did a lovely job with the detailing.” She let it slowly slide off her body before she gathered it and replaced it on the desk chair. Erik groaned in response but dared not move an inch.

There was a knock on the door and Emma could be heard running down the staircase to answer it. Erik peeked outside the door a minute later to see her coming towards him.

“I thought you all had left.” He told her as she approached.

Emma was almost breathless, “We are, Monsieur…I just wanted to tell you that the Vicomtess has arrived. Jacques is showing her into the music room now.”

Danielle grimaced and Emma could hear her snort behind the door.

“Thank you.” Erik told Emma as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of francs and put them into her hand. “And here, divide this up among everyone…let them enjoy their evening off.”

Emma bowed and thanked Erik profusely as she ran back up the stairs again to join Lacie.

When Erik turned back to Danielle, she had come to the door and was smiling. “That was awfully kind of you to do that.” She told him.

He kissed her hand, “They are all very loyal and hardworking, they deserve a night away….and we deserve…”

Pounding piano keys came rising up from the music room and it made both of them groan in frustration…again.

“It appears that the Vicomtess is already growing impatient.” Erik said in the most put off tone he could muster.

“Go to her, then. I have to put away my gowns upstairs, then I shall sit and read something until you are finished.”

He nodded with a small grin, “That will not be long, I assure you.”

She playfully shoved his shoulders, “Good, then go, the sooner you start…”

But he was out the door so fast she could not even finish her sentence.

-------------------------------------------------

Two books, a repaired torn hem and a walk in the garden later and still no sign of Erik and Christine emerging from the closed music room. Danielle had not heard a note or a song from inside for nearly twenty minutes and she could not help but wonder what they were doing. Finally, healthy doses of desperation and curiosity demanded she go to the music room and knock, hoping Erik would not be upset at the interruption. Yet, once she actually reached the door, she stopped, her mind debating.

“No, it is not right…I cannot interrupt…but…he has been in there a long time now….” She spoke softly as she sunk into a wooden bench next to the door, now hearing the faint voices of a conversation, wishing the door and walls were thin enough to hear what they were saying.

“I can no longer concentrate, Erik!” Christine whined as she slammed the music sheets down onto the piano.

Erik sighed again. His patience was wearing thin. All he had hoped was to get one run through all the arias, then dismiss her. Yet after two hours, they had barely gotten through three of them. “I am growing tired of this, Christine. We cannot be here all night…”

She saw his impatience, turned from him and went over to the small chaise, threw herself upon it and began to sob. Rolling his eyes, he followed her, sitting down on the edge of the chaise. 

“Why must you be so cruel and unfeeling, Erik?” she managed to say through her whimpering.

“Will you at least tell me what is bothering you?” he asked. “I noticed you have been distracted ever since you arrived.”

She sat up and suddenly began to blurt out everything so quickly, Erik could barely grasp it. A fight between her and Raoul…something about Madame Dupré’s daughter….accusations…Raoul calling her a spoiled brat and leaving…

“You have no proof that your husband did anything inappropriate regarding Mademoiselle Dupré.” He tried to get her to see reason, but she was not buying it.

“I do not have to have proof, I saw them at the party! They were inseparable! Then…I go home this afternoon after leaving here to find her sitting in the parlor with him! There was no one there but the two of them!” she started sobbing again. “I ran in and told him to tell her to leave immediately. He refused! That is when he called me a spoiled brat. I could not believe it! He is the one who is being deceitful and suddenly I’m spoiled. Well, he left, saying he would take her home, but by the time I was to leave to come here, he had not returned.”

He could only shake his head. “I am sorry that you and the Vicomte are having problems, but you have two weeks before the inauguration, you should not let it affect your….”

“All I could do was think about you, Erik.” She suddenly blurted out, “You would have never done that to me, you would have never called me a spoiled brat…you never would have even looked at Mademoiselle Dupré. I knew you loved me and I…..”

He put his hand on her shoulder, “None of that matters now, Christine. Things happen for a reason. You did the right thing by leaving me for the Vicomte, and although you may not believe it now, he is good for you, you are good for one another.”

“No, no….i realize it, I never got over you.” She sat up fully and faced him. She put both hands on either side of his face and before he could react, she had slipped the mask off of his face. 

“Christine…no!” he moved to put his hand over his face as he reached for the mask, but she held his arm and threw the mask to other side of the room. It landed with a loud clank as it hit a metal sculpture.

As Danielle approached the door to try and hear more, she heard something that sounded like metal hitting the floor. She frowned and decided she had to see what was happening. Slowly she pushed back the door, her mouth open to speak, but when she saw Christine and Erik on the chaise, his back to her, she quickly closed it and simply listened.

“You were not so shy the last time I saw your face, alone. It was so long ago, yet it feels like yesterday.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “When I saw you at the party and our eyes met, all the time simply slipped away. I knew then, although I could never tell Raoul, I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you. We were meant to be one…you my Angel of Music….the Don Juan to my Amenita…

She was slowly inching her way closer, pressing her body to his but he was almost unaware, he could only stare into her eyes, her words almost too much for him to handle. For a moment it was if the floodgates of hope had opened up to him. His Christine, dear Christine was his for the taking. Yet, just as suddenly as the gates opened, they shut. Hard. After so long, waiting, longing, wishing….she was finally confessing her love….and it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Christine…” he tried to speak. 

Then she kissed him. 

He gripped her shoulders in immediate response, trying to push her away, but she fought him, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep his mouth on hers.

Danielle’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw them in their strong and seemingly passionate embrace. She wanted to run…wanted to be anywhere else but there…

Erik’s mind instantly flashed to Danielle. Passion swept through his body as now, instead of Christine’s lips that he tasted, it was hers…Danielle….his Danielle. And only then did he move his hands from her shoulders to her waist as he lost himself in the fantasy and deepened the kiss.

Danielle waited, crying inwardly, begging for him to stop, to push her away, but he didn’t. Her heart broke at the sight. Finally, she willed her legs to move and she fled away from the door and up the staircase, never looking back, never hearing what happened next….

“Oh, Danielle…” Erik murmured softly against her lips…Christine’s lips.

Her very audible gasp of shock made his eyes fly open.

Oh, God, what had he done?

Still holding to her shoulders, he looked down at Christine’s disappointed face.

“You kissed me….but….”

“I called my wife’s name, yes.” He said, breathless.

“But, you kissed me!” her eyes brimmed with tears.

“No, Christine, you kissed me.” He released her shoulders and continued, “You do not seem to understand that I have no love for you, not anymore. You leaving me a year ago was the best thing you could have done and I thank you. If not, I would surely have been either dead or living miserably in some dark cave somewhere, afraid of my own shadow, depending on you to do everything for me. No, Christine…I am no longer your Angel of Music. I am Erik Renault… and I love my wife.”

He stood from the chaise and went over to the other side of the room to retrieve his mask. When he did, he calmly replaced it as Christine jumped to her feet. “I do not believe you!”

“Believe it.”

“You will change your mind in time, Erik. Danielle will never be what I am to you.”

He smirked, “You are right, Christine, Danielle will never be what you are to me…a part of my past.” He then regarded his watch. “It is growing late and I believe our lesson is finished….”

“This is not over, Erik. We can discuss this tomorrow morning when I return for my morning lesson. I know we can work this out if we just…” She snorted loudly as she grabbed her cloak and threw it around her shoulders.

Erik went to the piano and picked up her sheet music and in handing it to her, he said simply, “There will be no more lessons.”

“What? But the…”

He walked over to the window and waved outside, summoning Christine’s carriage driver who ran inside quickly, but Erik motioned for him to wait in the foyer. He took her by the arm and walked her to the library door.

“I see now that tutoring you is no longer sensible. You are too distracted. If you wish to continue your part in this opera, then you will continue with Monsieur René. If not, I will work to replace you as quickly as possible. Until then, I suggest you return to your husband and tell him to fetch Monsieur René at once. Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I have kept my wife waiting long enough.”

It was only after he watched Christine’s carriage leave then he suddenly realized…the door had been open the whole time.

Chapter Nineteen:

Danielle could just barely see through the hedges as Christine's carriage left, much sooner than she had anticipated, or hoped. She wasn’t ready to deal with Erik just yet…much too much to sort out. Leaning her forehead against the cool pane that frosted with each breath, her mind raced, replaying exactly what she had seen just a mere few minutes earlier in the music room.

She had not mistaken what she had seen. They were kissing. She could still see Erik's harsh, almost possessive grasp on the Vicomtess' shoulders. Her soft, breathless, inaudible cries, his kiss deepening....

"Stop it." she shuddered and turned away from the window. How could she have been so impetuous to come here and risk it all? Emma, dear kind Emma had been so wrong. She had not made the right decision after all.

"Tonight..." she whispered as she walked over to the couch at the end of the ballroom, "...stay clear of him tonight, and when Jacques returns tomorrow with the carriage....he can take me to Versailles....yes...just leave...let him make an excuse at the Grand Opening, none of this is worth it...."

Erik had already put Christine out of his mind as he turned to the doorway and saw it ajar.

Bloody hell….His heart began to beat faster in his chest and his hands went clammy. He had heard no movement, no creaking of the heavy door, no shocked gasping reaction. Dear heavens…but it was so evident she had been there, she had seen something, but just how much?

... and now, she was nowhere to be seen. 

He walked up to the door and scanned the empty foyer with narrowed eyes. He had to know….had to explain, so he immediately ran upstairs to her room. After an almost frantic knock, he waited. No response. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, only to see the room eerily empty. “Danielle?” he called out as he started down the empty hallway, throwing the doors open room to room, but he never saw her, never heard a response. 

You fool! He ran downstairs and called out her name in the garden, but it was growing dusk and colder by the minute, surely she would not be out there alone. Cursing silently, berating himself for his moment of weakness, he ran for the last room at the very end of the house, the ballroom.

Finally he reached for the doorknob but gasped when he found it locked. Finally! She had to be there.

"Danielle!" he called out as she shook the door but the weighty mahogany would not budge. "I know you are in there, please open the door, I have to talk to you.”

Danielle's head flew up as she heard the door knob being shook and Erik calling her name. She remained silent, in no mood to speak to him now, or any time that night. She would do her speaking in the morning as she was leaving.

“Please, talk to me! Let me know you are alright!”

Again, more silence.

“Danielle!” he banged on the door, almost growling now. “For God’s sake, speak to me or I shall break down this door!”

“Go away.” Her finally answered, voice was deep and low. Maybe it would be enough to appease him, she surmised.

In that one instant…in her sullen tone, he knew for sure. She had seen. There is no other explanation for her sudden mood change. He shook the door more anxiously. "Danielle, let me explain everything!" he tried again and waited for her response. 

“Leave me alone!” she finally screamed as loud as her voice would carry. “I have nothing to say to you tonight!”

He grunted in frustration and realized there would only be one thing left to do. He took a step back and, gathering his strength, he kicked the door as hard as he could. It flew open with a loud crashing noise.

She jumped, screaming as her hand flew to her mouth, her legs gathering under her as she almost cowered at one end of the large leather couch. “Are you insane?” she shrieked.

Erik’s eyes scanned around the large room, then immediately ran to Danielle, falling to his knees on the floor next to the couch. He reached for her hands but she resisted, pulling away, her eyes wide. He knew he’d scared her by his sudden violent entrance, but he felt he had no other choice. "Danielle... I only ask that you listen to what I have to say", he pleaded, his eyes searching hers.

"There is nothing left to say, I know what I saw! You won, Erik, she is yours now." She turned away from him, both arms crossed over her body protectively.

All Erik wanted to do was to take her in his arms, but he knew she would push him away, so he reluctantly respected her need for space. "Oh, Danielle..." he whispered, "…how I understand the way you feel. I will not sit here and deny what you saw. Christine kissed me. But it was all that happened. She kissed me and I pushed her away, that is why she left immediately, she did not think I would reject her, but I just could not....", his voice trailed off and he moved to look into her eyes.

"I am no fool. It was your lips upon hers....it was your hands that gripped her shoulders...indeed, Erik....you did not appear to be suffering from the pain of an unwanted advance...." She let her tears flow freely, no longer caring if he saw.

His heart sunk at the sight of her tears streaming down her face, knowing he was the cause of her suffering. Again, he had let her down, "I do not want to make excuses, but... without a doubt, my hands did grip her shoulders, in an effort to push her away. Did you not see that?”

“No, you did not push her away, you….”

“I called out your name, Danielle!”

Her head turned sharply at his words. "I do not believe you." her voice was distant and cold.

“Believe it. It was not her shoulders I grabbed….it was not her body that pressed against me….it was not her lips I tasted with such hunger I could barely contain myself….it was yours…”

The very notion was ridiculous and she could only shake her head.

"I cannot make you believe me, of course. That is something that will have to come from yourself. But I swear to you, Danielle, you were the only one on my mind then…and now.” he continued earnestly, his hand still on her arm.

"Thinking of me..." she snorted loudly as she shrugged off his hand. She had heard quite enough. She jumped off the couch and stood over him. "I have had enough discussion and pitiful excuses, Erik. I shall spend the evening alone in my room, with the door locked. If you attempt to break down that door, I shall leave the house completely. Believe me, I will walk all night to reach Paris if I have to." She turned away from him and started for the door.

“No!” Quick as lightning, he jumped to his feet and ran for the doorway, sliding his body between the entrance and Danielle in an effort to keep her from leaving. He put his hands on her shoulders, willing his grip to remain gentle but all he wanted to do was crush her against him and use his powers of persuasion to make her see that he was telling the truth. "Danielle,” he panted, "why would I want Christine when I have you?" 

Finally, she lost herself and began screaming at him as she pounded her fists into his chest. "Damn you! I am tired of your spouting how much I mean to you! Is it not obvious? She is everything you want, she always was, Erik! She is young and beautiful! Despite what you perceive, she still sings like an angel in heaven! And she has you, Erik......you!  She knows your heart, your soul......" her screams faded into sobs, "...I am not a woman of class, I am not a Vicomtess, I am just a pitiful seamstress in a fledging little shop with a lunatic for a father and no one to turn to...." But just as quickly as her sobs came they disappeared, replaced by more anger as she paced around the room like a trapped animal, "No! You will not reduce me to this. Let me go, tomorrow I will go to my cousin’s." She grabbed the doorframe in an attempt to get past his massive form.

Despite her words, Erik would not be deterred. It was all clear to him now. If he let her walk out the door, she would be gone forever and he simply would not accept that. He loved her, the feelings stronger than anything he had ever felt for Christine. His heart pounded harder in his chest as he came up behind her, grabbing her small body and pulled her against him. 

“No!” she cried, struggling against him.

He pressed his lips to her ear and spoke with a dark, calm and determined voice, "I love you, Danielle, do you not understand that? Christine is a child, immature. I see that now. You are the only one in my thoughts, my dreams and I cannot stand the thought of losing you again, it would kill me." He panted against her as she struggled to pull away from him but still he held her, trying with all his might to break through her resistance.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her tears returning. “No one loves me!”

“I do, Danielle. Practically from the first moment we spent in here alone, dancing…do you remember…do you remember how we held one another?”

She refused to accept that he loved her, refused even the very possibility she could be loved by anyone. She loved him, but she didn’t want to admit it to him or really even to herself. But it was her jealousy that chose to speak up instead. The ugly jealousy that reared its ugly head at the party…the bad part of herself that held all her fears and insecurities, threatening to destroy her heart.

"I do not love you!"

In an instant, she realized what she had said and stopped fighting, holding her breath.

His eyes widened at her words, and for one second the thought of giving up entered his mind. But then, he felt her body slump against his and he knew she had not meant a word. He slowly turned her around to face him and lifted her chin with his fingers. "Look into my eyes, Danielle, look into my eyes and tell me again that you do not love me." His voice was but a whisper. "If you mean your words, I shall let you go.”

"I..." she tried to summon the strength to speak, to lie...anything she could do to get out of there and be alone. Alone, she could sort it all out. "I do not...." she tried again, but the words merely squeaked out, "...love..."

Erik shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Stop denying it…" he groaned, moments before he crushed his lips against her mouth.

A meager cry came from her throat as she tried to stop him, push him away, anything other than what he was doing. It was pointless. Damn Christine! Who cared about her anymore? Who cared if moments earlier he had his lips on hers? 

She would show him, show him how he should be kissed....

She gripped his shirt in her fists as her lips parted with a deep inhale, threatening to capture every breath he dared release from his soft lips and Erik moaned as he felt the passion in Danielle's kiss. He no longer cared for a vocalized answer, he felt it at that very moment. He pulled her tightly against him, his body taut, his passion building with each passing second. He deepened the kiss then, his tongue reaching out to stroke gently yet demanding against hers, feeling no resistance as she welcomed him into her mouth. His hands slid up her back and he gripped her hair, pulling her head back to gain even better access to her kiss.

She let out a soft cry but never broke from his kiss, inwardly begging for more. There was no going back now. “Tell me again…” she panted breathlessly, “tell me she meant nothing….”

“Who, Danielle?” he responded, his lips brushing against hers, his fists full of her hair. “There is no one here but us…”

“Erik…” she melted into his arms and he instantly felt a shift in her resolve, realizing that he would not be able to control his own passion this time. Nothing would keep him from making love to her. He moaned in frustration as he finally broke the kiss. He lifted her into his arms and hesitated between carrying her up to his bedroom and walking a few steps to the couch. He growled… the sound raw and primal as he took only a few long strides to the couch and deposited Danielle's light body onto the soft leather.

"We are not.....going upstairs?" she panted eagerly against his ear as she held tight around his shoulders.

He moved on top of her body, sliding her legs apart before settling between her thighs, his arousal pressing hard against her lower stomach. He panted against her neck, his lips and tongue tasting, seeking as much skin as possible. "No... time...” he whispered as he nipped at the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck.”

Gasping, she arched her back, clenching her eyes shut hard. She now understood what he meant.

No time....definitely no time.....

Erik kissed her again as his hands slid down her body. His hips rocked rhythmically against her as he gathered the fabric of her gown in his fist, lifting it up inch by inch, his palms stroking the velvety skin of her legs as they were revealed to him. He fought to control his growing need as he felt her respond beneath him, the heat coming off of her threatening to set his body aflame.

In a frantic few seconds of doubt, she wondered if she could still make love to a man after so long a celibacy....would she still know how to please him, did she still know how she wished to be pleased? But the moment faded as her body seemed to take over, for her mind simply fled at the feel of his hands on her newly bare legs, threatening to unravel her second by second. Her hands started unbuttoning his shirt in a desperate attempt to have flesh meet flesh. 

He groaned as he felt Danielle's legs opening wider for him and his hips sank against her center, the heat burning him even through their layers of clothing. He stroked up her body again until he reached her bodice and his fingers found the tiny mother of pearl buttons. He lowered his mouth to her throat as one by one he undid each button with an almost agonizing anticipation until the creamy softness of the skin between her breasts was finally revealed to him. He looked up into her eyes once more, unable to utter a word but his eyes speaking volumes. He remained poised over her for a moment, then gently parted the material of her bodice and cupped her breasts with his hands.

She tried to hold his gaze, wishing to memorize every inch of the intensity he showed her, but once his hands found her breasts, neglected of a man's touch for so long, she could not help but cry out, her eyes squeezing shut. It was simply too much for her to handle at one time. She felt him growing, throbbing above her and, in automatic response, her hips rose upward, desperate to feel more.

He felt her hips undulate against him and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see her nude body. He wrenched his lips from her skin, his mouth tingling from the loss of her, then pulled himself up and knelt between her legs, gripping the edge of her gown, bunched around her hips. Slowly, he lifted the gown over her head and let it fall on the floor. He then gripped the edge of her undergarment and slowly pulled it down her hips, gasping in awe as she lifted her hips to free herself of it. He kissed the side of her knee as he threw the discarded garment on top of the gown and he finally let his eyes drink in the sight of Danielle's nude body beneath him. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and his desire reached yet another level, the throbbing of his flesh bulging tautly in his trousers.

He reached for Danielle's hands and, in a moment that threatened to tear his heart to pieces, he lifted them to his face. "Danielle... remove my mask…" he whispered, his eyes gleaming.

Now out of breath, her defences gone, naked before him, she could not fathom what courage it took for him to make that final sacrifice, to risk all in removing the final barrier between them. Her hands shaking, she braced herself for what she knew would be a bad sight, yet in her heart she knew none of it mattered.

Looking into his eyes, she peeled away the mask and it was if time stood still. She saw nothing there…no horrible disgusting disfigurement, no hideous monster… nothing but Erik.

"You are so....amazing..." she whispered softly, allowing the mask to slip from her fingers absentmindedly to the floor.

“Me…?” Erik emitted a low soft, strangled moan at her words. No one had ever told him he was amazing, certainly not when his mask was off. At that very moment, he knew that Danielle would be the last and only woman for him.

“Yes, Erik. You. Only you…” She ran her hands underneath his shirt, slowly pushing it off his shoulders, letting it catch at his elbows. God, how hot his skin was! Rising up, she brought her lips to his bad cheek and gently kissed the raised and red skin as her hand ran behind him to his lower back. As her lips brushed across his cheek, her nails raked slowly upwards, teasingly.

Erik hissed at her touch and he loved how she showed her desire in the way she touched him. He captured her lips again as he pulled his shirt out of his pants. "Danielle... please..."

She watched his shirt finally fall to the floor and she ran her hands across from his lower back to his stomach, then methodically upwards, his coarse chest hair bristling underneath her palms. Slowly, but surely, everything she felt, the passion, the intense yearning, the boldness of it all was being revealed to her again. “Are you ready for me, Erik?" she purred seductively in his ear.

He couldn’t help but smirk, his eyes growing darker and darker as he reached for the waistband of his pants. "As ready as you are for me, Mademoiselle..."

Instantly, she slapped his hand away. "No." Her voice was sharp and to the point. Then with a sly smile, she whispered, "Let me...besides...is it not a wife's duty to please her....husband?” And with that, she brushed her hand across him.

His entire body stiffened at her touch and he felt his soul unravel. He was hers, it was as simple as that. His breathing deepened as he desperately sought more contact yet knowing that too much friction would cause him to explode and that is not how he wanted things to happen. He had to join his body with hers soon, or he would die. He finally could take no more and pushed her hand away with another smirk. "I think you are doing quite well in pleasing me... my wife", he said, "but I am afraid that if you keep this up, I shall not be able to please you". He playfully kissed the tip of her nose and rose long enough to slip his trousers down his legs. He immediately laid over her body once again and very quickly all traces of playfulness faded away as, for the first time, he felt her naked flesh beneath his.

When their bodies touched, she lost all train of thought. All she could see was his beautiful eyes studying her, all she could feel was the heat from his body flowing over hers....all she wanted now was for him to claim her for his own and finally become one. He rained soft kisses on her cheeks, forehead, throat as he tried to regain control of his demanding body. She felt so soft, so lush beneath him. He could not wait any longer now. He adjusted his hips and felt her gasp slightly. He looked down into her eyes, understanding her reaction. He knew it had been a long time for her, he had to be gentle. "Danielle... look at me", he whispered.

A sudden wave of nervousness shot through her as she felt him against her. In response, she tensed her body, unsure of how much pain she would be in after such a long absence.

"I...." her voice was barely a whisper.

"Shhh..." he whispered soothingly. "I shall not hurt you, my love". He held his body taut, the need to take her almost overwhelming. He took his time and let her body welcome his in her own way.

A whimper came, but she held his gaze, determined not to stop. With each passing second, her body seemed to remember, to accommodate and before long, she was moving against him in an inaudible moment of acceptance. "More...." her voice cried out, "I want more....."

At her words, all resolve crumbled and, with a thrust of his hips, their bodies joined together as one. Her nails dug deep into his shoulders as he pressed his lips to hers again, his deep groans vibrating against her hungry mouth. He explored her body with his hands as he rocked his hips more and more against her, seeking as much contact as possible, and marveling at the soft cries of pleasure coming from her lips. Her body tingled, burned with intense heat, then shivered with sensations of cold. Never had she felt anything so extraordinary in her life as she felt at the very moment her body began to tighten. An unusual sensation started at the pit of her stomach and not fully understanding what it was, she knew she had to reach for it, fight for it. Her hips moved more and more and she broke from the kiss, unable to concentrate on anything else.

Erik felt the change in Danielle's body and knew she was getting close to succumbing to her own desire, that desire that she had been without for so long. He surged above, moving her legs higher, allowing him to sink even deeper within. He moved against her even faster, determined to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could before giving in to his own need. He looked down at her, his slick hair falling into his eyes and he sensed her body shuddering beneath him.

"I do not...." her mind almost fought the new sensation he was bringing out in her, fighting the unknown. Yet, her aching body sought it like nothing she had wanted before, spurred on by Erik's encouragement. Frantically moving her hips, she flew over the edge, the shock causing her to gasp, her mouth gaping open until she could catch a deep breath that was followed by a long, wailing cry.

Erik kept his eyes on her as she convulsed beneath him, his movements never faltering. "Danielle... my beautiful Danielle...” he whispered, kissing her along her jawline and stroking her hair as she cried out in pleasure.

“What…was that…?” she managed to ask once she had gathered herself enough to utter a sound.

"You had an orgasm, my love... and I plan on giving you many, many more..."

“Oh my…”

He moaned as he simply could not hold out any longer, "Danielle, I...”

She held tight to him, feeling him shudder above her then cry out as he finally fell over the edge, his orgasm powerful and intense, his voice crying out her name over and over and she swore that if this was as close as a human could come to heaven, she surely had reached it. She rained kisses all over his neck and whispered, "Oh God Erik, how I love you..."

It was the very words he now lived to hear. 

"Danielle...I love you so much...." His voice practically sang as he turned slightly to enclose her in his embrace, refusing to allow their bodies to part just yet. He gathered her in his arms, holding her tight against him, sated and content and their lips met once more but this time the kiss was not demanding, but soft and loving. It expressed all the love that he felt for her and his willingness to be with her for the rest of his life. 

Chapter Twenty:

Erik awakened, the sun shining on his exposed face, not knowing or caring what time it was. Slowly he raised his head and looked down at Danielle. She was sleeping peacefully on her side next to him, looking rosy and radiant as the red bedcovering gently lay upon her hip, exposing her back to him. Very gently he moved closer, pressing himself up against her, his hand slipping under the sheet to stroke her thigh. He sighed against her hair as he recalled what had taken place the night before in the ballroom. It was paradise….as much paradise as a redeemed arsonist and murderer can dare hope for in one lifetime. He remembered how soft and warm she felt under his body, how she responded to every touch, every new sensation, until she shuddered and cried in sheer ecstasy beneath him. It could not have been more perfect. 

Danielle’s eyes were closed but she was slipping further and further from her dream state. She was suddenly aware of movement behind her…a hand caressing her warm thigh, a finger slowly moving her hair to the side of her neck, replaced by soft lips…. a low groan vibrating against her ear. 

Her mouth could not help but form a smile. 

She forced her eyes open, straining against the sunlight; momentarily unaware which room she was in, which bed she ended up in after they had left the ballroom. She focused harder and viewed the room around her for the first time in full daylight. It was definitely not hers, it must be Erik’s. 

“Umm….good morning…” Erik whispered hoarsely in her ear. She giggled as the air from his mouth tickled her neck.

“Good morning…” she managed to respond after hearing Erik’s deep, throaty laugh. “What time is it?”

“I do not know….nor do I care.”

Another soft laugh, “Neither do I. I say we do not find out.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” He gently tugged on her shoulder, turning her until she laid flat on her back. 

“This is the first time I have seen your bedroom. If I recall, when you brought me in here, it was rather dimly lit.” She smiled.

“I did not hear you complaining then, my heart.”

“How could a woman in her right mind complain? Not after being made love to a second time…and a third time and…” She chuckled under her breath.

He gazed down at her and paused. How he loved her so. He questioned how he could have ever possibly thought her plain. “Dear God, what did I do to deserve you…?”

She could hardly answer that question, for she felt the same way. She simply brushed his cheek with her hand, allowing herself to lazily trail along his jawline, studying him closely a few moments before she said, “We deserve each other, Erik, we belong together.”

He lowered his head, his lips ever so gently tasting hers as he wrapped his arms around her body and pulling her as close as he could. He wanted to be so close to her he was afraid he’d crush her under the sheer weight of his affection. He moved over her just long enough to sink into her embrace before he turned over onto his back, taking her with him. She straddled his waist and rose onto her elbows.

“Make love to me again, Erik….?” She whispered.

Pushing the hair out of her face with both hands to view her beautiful, sincere eyes, he answered, “I believe the household can survive without me for a little while…”

That made her smile.

“…and love? In the future…you need not ever ask for me to make love to you….simply take what is yours, I would never deny you.”

Inhaling deeply, moved by his heartfelt words, she crushed her lips to his, her arms moving slowly above his head and gripping the dark wood headboard.

--------------------------------------------------

Emma had risen late and she ran to the kitchen to find it empty. No Gisèle. They had all come in very late the night before after spending the evening in Paris and judging by the quietness as she had left the servants house, she was the first one to rise. She checked the hall clock. Seven thirty. Erik had surely already risen and was missing his coffee and paper. She hurried to make it as she hollered back down the hall for a very hung over Lacie to go back and wake Gisèle.

Eight o’clock came before Gisèle had finished breakfast and, armed with a cup of coffee, Emma ran quickly to the dining room expecting to see Erik sitting there waiting, tapping his fingers against the table at her obvious tardiness. 

But it was empty.

She sat the cup down and told Lacie to find him. Probably in the library, she told her as she started upstairs to see if Danielle was in her room. She became just as perplexed when she found that room empty also.

“Lacie!” Emma called down a couple of minutes later after searching most of the upper floor rooms. “Did you find Monsieur Erik?”

“No!” Lacie replied loudly, then held her aching head at the sound. “No, I checked the library, music room, garden, but…” she paused as she ran up the steps, an object in her hand, “…when I went to check the ballroom, I found this…” she handed Emma Erik’s mask.

“What would Monsieur Erik’s mask be doing in the music room?” Emma asked rhetorically, thinking out loud.”

“Have you checked his bedroom yet?”

She slipped the mask into the pocket of her gown, “Not yet, that is my last stop. What about Mademoiselle Danielle?”

Lacie simply shrugged.

Emma then told Lacie to keep the breakfast warm and she would make sure that Monsieur Erik was alright. He had to be in his room, but as such a late hour, she feared he was ill and immediately ran to Erik’s door, knocking loudly. “Monsieur Erik! Are you in there?”

So loudly that both Erik and Danielle jumped in the bed.

“Emma…” Danielle whispered in Erik’s ear. He nodded.

“What should we do?”

Erik grimaced, rather irritated that his attempt at lovemaking was thwarted. He knew Emma would not leave, her tone of her voice telling him she was concerned.

“Yes?” he said, his voice low.

“Monsieur, I am sorry to bother you. I apologize for being so behind schedule this morning, we came in so late last night, your coffee waits you in the dining room.” She started quickly as she opened the door, expecting him to be sitting by his window reading a book as he typically did at that time of the morning after his breakfast, “And Monsieur…have you seen Mademoiselle Danielle, I went to her room and….”

What she did not expect was to see Erik and Danielle in bed. Together.

“Oh my!” she cried out. Rushing back out the door, she closed it shut behind her.

Erik and Danielle both burst out laughing.

“Emma!” she called out, “Please wait!”

No response came but they both knew Emma had not walked away just yet.

“I had best go get her.” Danielle said as she quickly jumped out of bed, looking around for something to put on in a pinch. “Umm….”

Erik pointed to his wardrobe as he rose from the bed, “Not that I wish for you to cover up, but I have a robe in there.” His voice was still hoarse and passion filled. He knew he’d need a few moments to gather himself.

With a wink, she ran to the wardrobe and pulled out the robe, throwing it around her shoulders. She turned back to Erik, “I shall just be a moment, then you shall have the pleasure of removing it again.”

With a smirk from Erik, Danielle darted out the door and found Emma a few feet away, leaning against a wall, her face flush red.

“Please come inside.” Danielle prompted her as she approached, tying the robe around her.

“No, I am intruding, forgive me, I should not have burst in like that. It is just that I…well, I was concerned when I could not find either of you…” she babbled then stopped.

Danielle understood. “It is alright, we should have been more diligent, we did not know exactly what time it was, and we did not care to….” Then she blushed and began to giggle.

Only then did Emma join her.

Danielle opened the door and peeked inside to find Erik walking across the room dressed in pants and an unbuttoned white shirt. She turned back to Emma and said, “You can come in now.” She tried to pull her hand, but she wouldn’t budge.

“No, I do not need…..”

“Emma, come in.” Erik’s voice came from behind the door.

Slowly, Danielle opened the door and the two of them went back inside the bedroom. When Emma saw Erik relatively dressed, she relaxed with a sigh. His face did not appear to show any irritation at her breech of etiquette.

“Mademoiselle...” She smiled at Danielle, then turned to Erik, trying to maintain her composure, but inside, she was extremely happy to know that the two of them had decided to be together. “Umm…your coffee is waiting…and, uh, I found this in the music room.” She pulled out the mask and laid it on the bench by the bed.

“Oh, I thought you brought that up with our clothing.” Danielle said in a rather matter of fact tone.

Leaning forward, Erik picked up the mask and held it. “It must have slipped out when I gathered up our clothing….” He gestured to the chair by the window where their clothes were piled up in a wad. Emma just shook her head with a slight smirk as she walked over and grabbed them in her arms.

“No bother, Monsieur, I shall wash these…”

“Thank you.” He nodded, replacing his mask. Danielle pouted slightly, having truly grown accustomed to seeing him without it.

“So, would the two of you prefer to have breakfast down there, or up here?”

“Up here.” Both Erik and Danielle answered in unison before bursting into another bit of nervous laughter.

Laughing, Emma closed the door behind her as she left.

That is what I thought….

--------------------------------------------

Later that day….

“Erik?” Danielle spoke softly as she looked over at him sitting in the chair by the window of her room. Already dressed for the opera grand opening, he sat pensively, his legs crossed, arms folded over his chest and eyes fixed on her while Emma laced up her corset and Lacie made last minute adjustments to her hair, affixing it with a bejewelled hairclip. Her new dark blue ball gown lay out softly on the bed, the setting sun shining amber on the shimmering material.

She was running late. Later than she’d expected after spending most of the day riding with Lacie around the huge estate. Erik had given her permission to ride his favorite black stallion, something he had never done before, but, as he observed her on the veranda, he was glad he’d done it, for she looked so beautiful upon it that he simply couldn’t think of anything else. He doubted he would ever ride that horse again, at least not without her behind him. He highly suspected that even the horse would accept no other rider but her.

Time had passed so fast and joyful, she’d hardly realized she’d been so tardy, not until she observed Erik fully dressed by the time she’d finished her bath. Sans his jacket, he had stood in the doorway of her room, smiling, without so much of an impatient word. 

Even Emma was stunned at that. 

“Ummm?” Erik murmured ever so softly as he observed her standing there in a corset and shift. He couldn’t turn his eyes away.

“Sing for me.”

His forehead curled down. “What?”

“Sing for me.” She repeated. “I have heard you play the piano so brilliantly, surely you must sing.”

Emma cringed behind Danielle and Lacie threw her a glance. The whole year that she had been there, Emma had never heard Erik sing, but she knew he could. No one ever dared ask him to.

“What makes you so sure I sing, love?” he asked, his voice still pleasant, but tipped with apprehension.

“I know of your opera, you know, from gossip that comes into the shop.” She replied rather plainly. “I heard talk that you sang it the night you burned down the opera house….Don Juan….something…”

A long pause as she tried to remember.

“……Triumphant.” He reluctantly finished.

“Yes, that is it.” She smiled at him.

“That music burned in the fire.”

Giving a small frown, she replied, “Surely you still remember it, parts of it?”

“No, I don’t recall it.”

She studied him, his eyes suddenly distant. It was apparent that the particular opera meant more to him that he was ready to reveal and he was not going to budge on the issue.

“Then, sing me something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything….”

He looked at her again with a slight pause as he tried to figure out why she was so insistent, then asked a second time, “Like what?”

“Anything you sang for her!” She blurted out, then just as quickly turned away, wincing inwardly. She knew it was not a smart move. Again, her jealous side had taken over.

Why does he not understand?

But Erik understood perfectly.

“Emma…Lacie, leave us.”

“But, Monsieur, I have to help dress….” Emma started.

“I will help Danielle dress. Leave us.” He slowly stood, his voice firm and final.

With a glance to Danielle, Emma and Lacie quickly left the room.

“I am sorry if I said something to upset you…” Danielle began but Erik just raised his hand.

“Why do you wish for me to sing something I sang for Christine?” He knew the answer, but wanted her to say it.

She shrugged. How could she possibly explain her reasons to Erik, when she hardly understood them herself?

“I….perhaps you would not understand….it is just that…well, I wish to know what put her under your spell… how you expressed your love for her…I mean, it is a part of you that you have not shared with me and…” she shook her head, aware of her rambling, “…no…I am sorry, I have no right to ask what you clearly do not wish to give….”

Night time sharpens…heightens each sensation….

Danielle gasped as, very slowly, Erik moved behind her, his voice seemingly coming from all directions. He spoke no words of reply or explanation, simply started lacing her corset as he let his voice surround her…

Darkness stirs…and wakes imagination…

Silently the senses, abandon their defences…

Her eyes closed and she began to sway. It was truly the most magical, seductive voice she had ever heard. Oh my….

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor….

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…

He continued to lace the corset as he gently brushed along her back with his fingers. She sucked in a soft breath through clenched teeth as her head fell slightly back, her body tingling with newfound sensations.

Turn your face away, from the garish light of day…

Her hands gripped at the sides of her shift, bunching it and twisting with her fists, her breathing becoming shallow…drifting slowly into a state of pure bliss…

Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light….

Her body aching, her bosom swelling, the very familiar heat rising from the pit of her stomach….my God, he was bringing her to climax with just his voice!

And listen to the music of the night….

“Stop.” She said firmly, her eyes flying open. The loud moan that left her throat shocked her enough to come to her senses during the brief lull of his music. And her body cursed her for it.

“Why, Danielle?” his voice purred in her ear. “You said you wished to hear me sing.”

“I did not realize the power of your voice, I…” Her eyes fluttered shut again. “I daresay that if you sing another note, I will burst out every lace of my corset.”

Erik smirked, knowing full well he had gone easy on her. She knew it, too, deep down.

“Well, we cannot have that, can we?” He stayed behind her, his fingers lazily tracing along the edge of the corset, barely gliding along the skin.

Her body shivered at his touch as she tried to speak, “I cannot understand why she did not succumb to you that very night. Your expression of love was so intense, so alluring…”

“As I said before, love, she was a child. She had not yet truly been awakened to the wonderful sensations that love brings, that lovemaking brings. She was dazzled by the Vicomte because they were childhood sweethearts. He was comfortable, familiar.”

“And you were dangerous.” Her lips formed a half smile. Boy, how true is that?

He laughed deeply, “I do not know about that.”

“But your voice is so moving, so deep, it can be nothing but…dangerous…” she whispered. “Perhaps, someday…”

“Someday, what?”

“You will sing something that is just for me?”

He pulled her to him, his hands running down her arms and wrapping around her waist, his lips brushing against the ringlets of her neatly pulled up hair.

“I do not have to sing for you to know how I truly feel.”

She smiled softly, “No, you do not.”

For the next few agonizing seconds, no other words came, just the sound of their labored breathing…

Feeling he had to be the stronger one, Erik broke away, just long enough to lace the top of her corset before placing a soft kiss on the skin between her shoulder blades. He knew if he remained, he would take her again, and they were already running late. After the grand opening….his mind assured him…nothing will stop us then…

“There you are…” he sighed and backed away.

She took in a cleansing breath as she moved to the bed and picked up her gown, holding it out to view it again, as if for the first time. She loved it from the instant she saw it in Madame Boudreaut’s shop. It was not the dress she had initially chosen for her either, a milky blue number that resembled one an old maid might wear. Oh no….Danielle was tired of plain and hated old maid. She immediately turned up her nose and went looking around the shop.  When she spotted a midnight blue silk gown, low bodice, off the shoulders with tons of lace and ribbons flowing off the large bow in the back, she knew it was hers. Madame Boudreaut had said that the gown was on reserve for Jasmine Marchand and with a raised eyebrow, Danielle asked if it was for the grand opening. When Madame Boudreaut said no, she turned to Erik. With a smirk, he shoved a large wad of francs into the older woman’s chubby fingers and told her to wrap up the gown. The look on the woman’s face was priceless. It was the most vulgar display of wealth she had ever shown, but it was worth it, if only to show up Jasmine Marchand. Besides, she figured the woman would never be the wiser, she’d barely seen her face that day at the shop.

“Who was the first man you ever loved?” Erik’s voice brought her out of her haze as he took the gown from her hands. He held it out for her to step into.

“I suppose that would be Richard.” She answered, her hands touching his as he pulled the gown up her body. “There were other young boys when I was younger, but they did not mean what Richard did.”

“What was it about him that dazzled you?”

“Oh, I suppose because he was like me, so impulsive, spontaneous, fearless. He cared nothing for the social morals of Paris society. He rejected all authority, even his own father, who I dearly loved. I saw him several times, always careful to avoid his mother, who I knew did not approve of me. Richard did not care. It was great in some ways, not so great in others….” Her voice faded away. 

Truly, she did not wish to think of Richard. “What about you? Was Christine your first love?”

He smoothed the gown around her soft curves, “No. Actually I believe the first woman I ever loved was my mother.” He replied wistfully. “Unfortunately, like Christine, she did not return my love.”

Danielle recalled his telling her a few brief stories about his mother, Madeleine Renault, as they talked the night before between bouts of lovemaking. While she was very pleased at how much he’d chosen to open up to her, she was just as appalled and completely taken off guard by how much his mother had rejected him. She thought to herself how she would have died if her own mother had not loved her, it was bad enough her father seemed to hate her so, although she still could not understand why.

“I am sorry….a child should never know what is like not to be loved by their mother.”

“No. Never.” His voice went eerily distant.

“Is she still living?” she asked.

“No. She died years ago, before I settled here in Paris.”

“Did you get to…you know…speak to her before….”

He shook his head, not ready to confront all those feelings, not just yet.

“Oh, I see…”

He inhaled deeply, then changed the subject, “Tell me about your mother. What was she like?”

“I was told we looked almost like twins, although I believe she was much more beautiful than I.” She mused softly as she walked over to her dressing table and looked in the mirror as she put on a lovely sapphire necklace. “She was warm and kind, soft spoken….nothing like me…well…like me then. She loved poetry and she loved to sing and play the piano….she had an amazing talent for both, especially singing. She told me she took lessons as a child, but when I asked why she did not keep them up, she would never answer.”

“Umm…” Erik sat down on the bench in front of the bed. “Where was she from?”

“Actually, I do not know. Its funny, when I first came here and Emma was giving me lessons, I said my grandmother had known all the social graces…” she sighed, “I was just pretending. I do not know my grandparents, if they are alive or dead, not even their names. Mother never told me much of her life before she met my father. Just pieces and parts of course. I know she had no siblings. She avoided the subject of any other family members. Later, Father told me it was because it was too painful for her. See, she ran off and married Father against her parents’ wishes and they disowned her.”

“Why?”

“I do not know, perhaps they did not approve of Father, but he never said. But she seemed happy with her life, despite that. That is until a few weeks before she died. She suddenly was very sad, almost despondent. I would ask her what was wrong, but she would only say she was a bit melancholy and not to be concerned. Then she passed away.”

“Ruptured appendix…a painful way to die…”

“Yes. I was in Versailles with Michelle at the time. She had just gotten married and…well…a message was sent for me to return home immediately. By the time I arrived, Father said Mother had died.

“I am very sorry…how very unfortunate that you never found out why she was so sad.”

She turned back to him and inhaled deeply. “I know. But…it is in the past and I know that Mother would be quite displeased with me if depressing talk of her spoiled this evening.” Giving a smile and inhaling deeply, she asked, “So…how do I look?” as she spun around for him.

“Radiant.” He stood up and took her hand. “Truly, Mademoiselle, you are the belle of the ball.”

“Madame. Remember?” she giggled softly as he kissed her fingers.

“Yes of course. Although it shall become much easier to remember once we are truly married.”

Danielle turned for the door, then did a sudden double take. Did she just hear what she thought she’d heard?

She turned back sharply, “Married?”

He smirked, but remained silent.

Putting her hands on her hips, she met this gaze, “Is that what you call a proposal?”

He shrugged, “Perhaps.”

She laughed, then grabbed his hand, pulling him out the door, “Well, Monsieur, you shall have to do much better than that…”

He nodded and pulled her close as they walked down the staircase.

Do not worry, love…I shall do better…much better….

---------------------------------------------

The Opera Garnier was lit up so bright in the night that it almost made the moonless sky glow. Danielle saw it as she approached Haussman Boulevard and she gawked at its splendor, hearing music rise, even from that distance away. Many other carriages came their way, the same reactions from the passengers, pointing, staring and even applauding.

“If the outside is this amazing, I cannot wait to see the inside!” she exclaimed, turning to Erik, who looked at his opera house proudly.

“I find that, even though I am here almost everyday, I am also looking forward to this evening.” He replied, his tone quiet, but nonetheless enthusiastic.

Wrapping her cape around her shoulders against the cold night air, she smiled at Erik, noting the sincerity in his eyes. She leaned forward and touched his hand. “You should be proud, Erik. Although the name may be Garnier, the victory is also yours.”

He pulled her forward and kissed her lips affectionately as the carriage pulled to a stop. “The true victory is having you here to share it with me. There may never be a way to tell you how much I appreciate it.”

With a sigh, she replied, “I think you just did.”

---------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, inside, the grand foyer of the opera house was decorated elaborately; sprays of flowers and ribbons draped the long staircases and hung over the balconies. The gold statues were gleaming, the marble floors polished to perfection, but Richard Dupré couldn’t care less as he walked around the upper floors, keeping a close watch on the door for any sign of The Renault’s appearance.

“Monsieur Dupré…” Mancia appeared behind him. He leaned down over the balcony railing, looking like a vulture upon the beautiful women walking around below him.

Richard turned, “Monsieur.”

“Everything set?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Yes.” Mancia said, slipping a key into Richard’s hand. “Here is the key to my office, you can take Madame Renault there after she comes upstairs.

“How will you lure her upstairs without her husband?” Richard asked him.

“I have paid one of the servants to tell Madame Renault that a messenger is waiting for her upstairs, news about her cousin. That same servant will tell Monsieur Renault that Monsieur Daque has requested his presence. That way, they will have to split up.”

“When will this take place?”

“About two hours from now, just after Firmin makes his God awful speech about how wonderful it is that everyone has come and….blah blah…” he waved his hand. 

Richard nodded, “Excellent, Firmin loves the sound of his own voice. You should leave now, before anyone else arrives and spots you here.”

Mancia clicked his thick tongue. “Yes, I know….a shame though...mighty fine ladies just waiting for a suave man like myself…”

And with that, Mancia slipped out the side exit door and disappeared, leaving Richard to laugh…and wonder if he was indeed serious.

--------------------------------------------

Even after two hours and probably the most boring speech she had ever heard, Danielle was still having the time of her life. She had yet to let go of Erik’s arm as he had slipped her out during the party, showing her around.

“Erik…I noticed that both the Vicomte and Vicomtess are not here tonight.” She said to him as they headed back into the grand foyer from the main theatre after taking her on a tour.

“Yes.” He said with a shrug. “I heard talk of the Vicomtess being under the weather.”

“I venture she is not ill.” Danielle could not help but smirk, completely amused. Yet, at the same time, she was a bit disappointed that the Vicomtess had not shown. She would have taken great pleasure in confronting her for what she did to Erik.

“Perhaps not.”

“I believe she will pull out of the production altogether, rather than remain around you, after you rejected her so.”

Erik knew it and pulled her close. “Let us not worry about Christine, tonight or any other night. It is just us, and it is a perfect evening…”

“You are right, I apologize.” She put her arms around him as he wrapped her in his strong, warm embrace. She nuzzled his neck. “Oh yes, such a perfect evening…”

Richard, meanwhile, watched in amazement as he hid in the shadows, just at the top of the center staircase, observing Danielle walk around the grand lobby, her arm on Erik’s, playing the perfect wife. Now, they were openly showing affection. The very sight sickened him. He could think of nothing else except how to get Danielle alone just long enough to confront her.

Anytime now…he shifted nervously. Once she tells me what I want to know, to hell with what happens to her after that…

He paced.

Where was that damn servant anyway?

And waited.

“Excuse me, Madame Renault?” A young man tapped on her shoulder. Both Erik and Danielle turned around.

“Yes?”

The young man bowed politely, “There is a courrier upstairs with a message for you from Versailles.”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at Erik, then at the servant. “Is it my cousin, Michelle?”

“I do not know, Madame.”

Erik leaned in to her, “How does she know you are here?”

“I sent her a message telling her I was with you. I suppose the courrier was sent here by Emma.”

He nodded, “Then let us retrieve the message. If there is anything wrong, we can leave for Versailles immediately.”

“But the grand opening…” she started but he shook his head.

“No, she is more important.” He started for the staircase holding her arm, but the servant stopped him.

“My apologies, Monsieur, but Monsieur Daque is asking for you. He is waiting by the south entrance.”

“He can wait.” Erik grumbled.

“He said it was most important.” The servant said firmly, which earned him a glare from Erik’s eyes.

“I said…” he said again.

“No, go Erik, I can take the message by myself.” Danielle interrupted.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

He kissed her cheek and said, “Wait for me at the top of the stairs, I shall find you when I am finished.

She nodded, then turned to start up the stairs, the servant following, to the delight of Richard, who was now patiently waiting for her behind one of the large columns by the staircase.

“Is the messenger waiting in one of the offices?” Danielle asked the servant.

No reply.

“I said, is the messenger….” She turned to find, to her shock, he had disappeared.

“Umm….where did he…?” She shrugged but continued on.

She had just stepped up from the last step onto the balcony area when a voice behind her suddenly said, “Good evening.”

She froze. It was Richard, she knew it. What was he doing here?

“Lovely celebration so far, would you not agree, Madame Renault?” he had almost spit out the word and it made Danielle’s spine tingle with unexpected apprehension.

Slowly, she turned around and addressed him, “Monsieur Dupré, I was unaware you and your wife would be attending tonight.” Her voice was calm and cool, but inside, she was shaking. His eyes. His eyes told her he was not in a celebrating mood.

She was right.

“My wife has returned to our home.” He said flatly.

“Oh?”

“But, please, if you may, Madame, my visit is strictly business….I would like to speak to you alone in one of the offices, it is a very important matter.”

Widening her eyes, she scanned for any signs of the messenger. “I am afraid I do not have time, I have a message waiting for me and…”

“Oh, I assure you, there is no message.” He told her sharply and marveled as her eyes grew big as saucers. “A fine ruse, do you not agree?”

Erik left Monsieur Daque rather quickly after finding out that he had not wished to speak with him, after all. Something smelled funny. He could not pinpoint what, but he knew he had to find Danielle, just to make sure. Once she was by his side again, he could breath easier.

“You lured me here? Why?” Danielle asked Richard, keeping her distance.

“To speak to you alone of course, without the prying eyes of your husband. Now, if you do not mind…” he gestured toward the offices down the hall, but Danielle did not move an inch. She was definitely not going anywhere with Richard. 

“Alone? Surely, Monsieur Dupré, you know that would be a mistake, my husband would not approve….

“…at this point, I do not care what your husband would approve of…Danielle.”

“Please, do not address me by that name, you were proven the other day that I am not…..”

He came closer to her, “Nothing was proven either way. Not until recently, that is.”

“What do you mean?”

He grinned, a satisfied glint in his eye, “What I mean is, I spoke with your father. That pathetic old man told me everything and, surprisingly, with very little prompting on my part. Amazing what a few paltry francs will get from someone…” he laughed.

“What could he have possibly told you?” her hands began to shake as she finally spotted Erik down below, talking to one of the investors, seemingly confused and shrugging his shoulders. She was desperate to get his attention.

“For one, that up until a couple of days ago, you were living under his roof. Even Jasmine Marchand can attest to that, as she heard you being referred to as Danielle and you addressing him as Father a little over a week ago.”

Danielle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth before she could think. That gesture alone was her ultimate downfall.

Nodding, Richard’s voice dropped. “I thought so. Now, let us go somewhere private.” He grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off.

“I will not go anywhere with you, whatever it is you wish to say, say it here, now.”

Another dark laugh came as he stepped even closer, “As you wish…”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” she gestured around to the crowd.

“I could care less about them or your sham of a marriage, I only want one thing from you, Danielle….”

“What could you possibly want from me after so many years, Richard?”

“Where is my son?”

Erik by this time had now spotted Danielle and Richard at the top of the stairs, engaged, by the sight of their closeness and anxious gesturing, in a heated conversation and was politely making his way toward them. He could tell how uncomfortable she was and he’d be damned if he’d let her suffer another second. However, the more determined he tried to get through the eager crowd, the more the eager crowd seemed to flock around. He felt as if he was treading in quick sand as he looked up to find Richard’s hand on her arm. She was struggling to free herself.

“What?” Danielle’s eyes flew open, darting around to see Erik heading her way. She wanted out of there and fast.

Richard gripped her arm again and this time she let out a yelp of pain, which made Erik fly up the stairs even faster, pushing past people and taking the steps two by two. 

“Where is my son, Danielle? Be fast about it before I get angry.” Richard’s voice rose.

She shook her head, confused. “I do not know what you mean, Richard!”

“You do! Do not deny it!” he growled, but Erik reached them and grabbed at Richard’s arm, twisting it angrily.

“Erik!” she cried.

“I do not believe you were invited, Dupré, to this celebration or to take liberties with my wife!” Erik growled loudly, more loudly than he should have. 

People started to notice. 

And gather.

“I would take careful consideration of your words, Renault….” Richard responded. “I only want some information from her. When she gives it to me, I shall leave.”

“Richard….” Danielle started softly, “Let us go into the office…” she gestured toward the crowd as she began to feel embarrassed.

But Richard had other plans now, much better than the one he had concocted earlier. “Why, Danielle, how lovely you blush…” He almost yelled. “Are you now afraid of letting everyone here know you are indeed a fraud?”

The crowd gasped at his loud words and even the music stopped.

“I am no fraud!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting around her frantically.

Erik grabbed Richard around the collar, his eyes turning dark, “How dare you accuse her of such nonsense…”

But Richard would not be deterred. “Then perhaps instead you would prefer to explain how there is no record of your marriage in Boscherville? Or how her real name is not Daniella Marie Perrault, but in fact Danielle Andrée Durand, the daughter of the dress maker Jean-Pierre Durand!” He pulled out a paper from his hand, holding it up and shaking it wildly in both of their faces. “Here it is, the proof from the church itself!”

Erik let go of Richard’s shirt and looked around, knowing Richard spoke the truth. He glanced at Danielle, who at the moment wished she could sink into a hole.

“I see the happy couple is rather shocked! Well, perhaps you cannot offer an explanation because what I am saying is true! I know her very well in fact!” he screamed to the crowd, “Because I used to be her lover!”

The crowd gasped loudly, then the all too familiar murmurs of gossip could be heard rising up.

“Richard, no!” Danielle screamed.

“Yes, I was her lover eight years ago, a love affair that ended with the birth of my child!”

Even more gasps and chattering whispers…

But Richard was now on a roll, “A son! Where is he, Danielle? Did you send him to be adopted as your father said you did? Or is he indeed living with you and your new, so-called husband?”

“No!” she screamed, “Do not do this! There is no child!”

“Stop this, Dupré!” Erik growled again.

“Was he stillborn? Tell me!”

“No, I have never been pregnant!” her voice called out in panic.

“Liar! Why would your father tell me there was a baby if there was not one?”

“I do not know!  Believe me now Richard, I have never been pregnant!” she cried out again, but feeling it was futile. Why would her own father say such things?

Erik would hear no more. He let out a loud angry cry and grabbed Richard by the throat, laying his back onto the balcony railing, threatening to push him over. The crowd screamed and several men ran up the stairs after Erik. They grabbed him quickly, pulling him off Richard and holding his arms.

“Let him go, please!” Danielle pleaded.

“Typical of the Phantom….solve things by murder!” Richard choked out as he gathered his breath, then he turned to Danielle who had turned pale, tears falling down her cheeks, almost transfixed at the sight of Erik’s rage.

“Stop lying and tell me where my child is!” Richard screamed at her, breaking her out of her haze.

In desperation, fear and utter shame, she lunged at Richard, slapping him hard across his cheek before running down the hall to the upper floor exit.

“Danielle!” Erik screamed, struggling hard to free himself and go after her, but the arms of the men held him tight. “Let me go, you bloody fools!”

“Monsieur….let her go.” A voice said. He turned to see it was Richard Firmin and he was not amused by the turn of events. “You have some explaining to do.”

Chapter Twenty-One:

Why does my heart cry?

Feelings I can’t fight….

“What do I owe you, Monsieur?” Danielle asked the driver as she got out of the small carriage in front of Erik’s home. She could hear the bell tower clock strike ten o’clock.

Danielle had not even bothered going to Jacques when she ran out of the opera house over an hour before. She had seen him there, in his usual place, his face buried in a newspaper, huddled against the cold night air, but she just couldn’t face him, or anyone associated with Erik right now. Just too many questions, too many answers she couldn’t give.

Erik…

The very sight of him looking at her, his shock, his confusion had shown through the angry, murderous stare. God, did he actually believe Richard? The very idea was too much for her to handle. But if there was one thing she could be sure of was that she just wanted as far away from the opera house as possible. She wanted to bury her head under the warm covers of her bed and pretend the night had never happened. Grabbing her skirt tail, she had run as fast as could down the cold streets of Paris, unsure how far she would have to go to find a carriage….

…yet after nearly twenty minutes of shivering against the bitter wind and debating on whether or not to just go back to Jacques after all, she’d finally stumbled upon a carriage parked on the side of de Monceau.

“Where to?” he’d asked her as he helped her into the carriage. She noticed him looking her over, probably wondering why an unescorted woman was out that time of night, without so much as a cape over her bare arms.

“Le Vezinet.” She answered him, her voice shaking just as much as her body.

He appeared to have taken enough pity on her to offer her a wool blanket he had folded up next to his seat. With a faint smile, she had taken it gratefully. It did not take long for her to stop shivering. But as the cold left her body, it had been rapidly replaced by tears….tears she did nothing to stop.

“Ten francs.” The driver said politely, his eyes scanning over the large estate with raised eyebrows.

“I shall return in a moment with it.” She replied as she turned toward the front door.

She still could not understand any of it. Why would Richard believe, seemingly spurred on by her father’s lies, that she had become pregnant eight years ago? And why was he just now confronting her about it? Her mind flashed rapidly from one image to another. The looks on the faces of the crowd, their whispers rising louder and louder with each passing second, Erik’s rage, his eyes darkening, the men holding him back…

Oh, how did it come to all this….?

It all suddenly became clear. There was no way she could stay at Erik’s any longer. He had suffered enough shame for one lifetime without her adding to it. Yet, she could no longer go back to her father, no telling what atrocious punishment would await her there. She had no other alternative; there was only one place to go, Michelle’s. At least a couple of days, until she could move on. Yes, Michelle would need help with the new baby while her husband was working…

She stopped and turned back to the driver.

“On the other hand, Monsieur, how much would you ask for taking me to Versailles?”

He inhaled and thought hard. “Not an easy ride….”

“I will pay you fifty francs.” She blurted out.

His eyes widened. “Of course.”

“Good, wait here, I shall not be long.”

He nodded and she ran into the house.

---------------------------------------------

Erik paced around the large conference room like a caged animal as the investors sat at the table, including Richard Dupré. Jules was pleading his case.

“Gentlemen, this is no time to be debating this issue. There is a celebration going on outside and Monsieur Erik wishes to go after his wife to see if she is alright.” He said as he spoke over the loud music that had resumed a few minutes earlier after Monsieur André assured the crowd that there was nothing to worry about.

“I demand answers!” Richard pounded on the table with his fists.

“We all demand answers, Monsieur Dupré.” Monsieur Daque spoke up before standing and addressing Erik. “We must know if these accusations are true. Did you, in fact fake marriage documents that said that this woman was your wife, when she is indeed not?”

Erik growled. He was not going to answer anything any of them had to say. He simply paced, his mind focused solely on Danielle, hoping that she ran to Jacques and he took her home. Together, they could sort everything out later, but for now, he just wanted her safe.

“We are not going anywhere until you answer us, Monsieur.” Another investor spoke up.

“Monsieur Renault does not have to answer…” Jules spoke up.

“Then just tell me where my child is!” Richard interrupted loudly. “That is the real issue here. Who cares if he’s married or not married to her? She had a child and he is my son and I want to know where he is!”

“I can assure you, Monsieur Dupré, this is the first I have heard of a child.” Erik replied very calmly.

Richard could only huff and sit down.

“And for all of you here, no, my marriage to Danielle is not legal. I had the documents forged. Of course, that will all change as I plan to legitimately marry her. She is not shamed in any way and we have done nothing wrong. This sham had nothing to do with the opera house.”

The men looked at one another and shrugged.

“When do you plan to marry the young woman?” Monsieur André asked.

“Within the next few days. I will simply find a church outside Paris who will marry us in secret.”

“Will that appease you all, gentlemen?” Jules asked the hurried and weary men.

Firmin spoke up, “Yes, I believe, for the sake of the opera house, that in two days time, if you can marry her and bring us a legitimate certificate of that marriage, we can let this issue drop and we can appease anyone who wishes to know if they are truly married.”

“Excellent.” Monsieur Daque said with relief. “I believe this meeting is adjourned.”

The other men nodded in agreement and all began to stand. Erik exhaled as he took Jules by the arm and was almost out the door when Richard spoke up.

“Wait!” he stood quickly. “Just like that, he gets away with it? No! I want him out! If you do not vote him out, I shall take this to the Époque! Danielle will be shamed right out of Paris and so will the opera house for covering up the scandal!”

“Monsieur, think about this…” One of the other investors pleaded with him.

“I have thought about it. Let him marry her, I do not care, but the fact that she had a child, my child, out of wedlock, will prevent her from being received by any decent household in Paris. Soon, the public will know what I have known for eight years, that Danielle Durand is nothing but a putrid gutter rat!”

“Damn you!” Erik screamed as he ran for Richard, leaping wildly onto the table to get at him, ready to strangle the very life out of him. “You will not be able to spread such filth if you are dead!” Richard cowered in the corner as four men finally managed to pull Erik away.

“You cannot be serious!” Jules screamed at Richard.

“Watch me!”

“Nothing can be accomplished tonight, not now.” Monsieur Daque spoke up again. “Let us agree to meet here again in two days. We will decide then if Monsieur Renault is to be removed. Will you agree to wait two days, Monsieur Dupré?”

Reluctantly, Richard nodded, his eyes fixed on Erik’s.

Monsieur Daque touched Erik’s shoulder to help calm him down. “Take the two days, gather any information you can about this so-called child. Perhaps, if you can give him the information he wants, he’ll leave you and the opera house alone. Then you will be free to marry the young lady at your leisure and no one will have a say in the matter.”

Erik nodded, then looked at Jules as the other men released him. He casually straightened his shirt and jacket, “That is acceptable.”

“We will return here in two days.” Jules said as he carefully escorted Erik from the room.

------------------------------------------------

It did not take long for Danielle to rid herself of the ball gown and change into one of her plain ones for the journey to Versailles. Just as quickly and quietly as she had left before, she packed up everything that was hers, including the remainder of the money that Erik had paid her, and left the room. She chose not to look back, because she knew if she did this time, she might change her mind. She walked downstairs and immediately stared at the closed mahogany doors of the music room.

No, she could not leave it like this, no this time. She had to leave him something, a goodbye. She walked inside and lit the single candle on top of the piano. She could find nothing but a fountain pen and some old sheet music paper, but it would do. She stared at the blank page, trying to find the words she needed to express herself, to tell him how she truly felt. But what? How could she sum up just how much it hurt that she had somehow caused him shame and embarrassment, especially during his moment of greatest contentment? How sorry she was that now he could lose everything over a scandal that involved her past?

“Oh, Erik…how I love you…” she whispered softly, her fingers brushing along the ivory keys of his piano.

Only one thing came to mind then…and she began to write…..

--------------------------------------------------

Erik and Jules ran outside the front of the opera house, heading for Jules’ carriage when they saw Jacques parked in the same place he’d been all night. With a glance to Jules, Erik ran over to him.

Hearing loud footsteps, Jacques looked down and saw Erik and Jules approaching rapidly, their face drawn and anxious. He dropped the paper he was reading and jumped off the top of the carriage. “Monsieur!”

Erik grabbed the young man by the shoulders, asking breathlessly, “Where is Danielle?”

His eyes widened, “I have not seen her since the two of you went inside, she is not with you?”

“No! She ran out, I thought she would come to you to take her home!” Erik cried, his eyes darting around, futilely searching. “Bloody hell, where could she be?”

“Let us check at home first, Monsieur.” Jules said.

“Yes, we will go home in your carriage, Jules. Jacques, you start fanning out from here. I do not believe she could go far in this cold. Check cafes and hotels…”

“Yes, Monsieur!” Jacques jumped back onto the carriage just as Erik and Jules ran for the other one.

-----------------------------------------------

It was close to eleven o’clock by the time Jules and Erik jumped out of the carriage and ran for the house. Erik threw the door open. “Danielle!” he cried, running straight upstairs to her room.

Please be here…please….

He didn’t knock, he didn’t have to. The door stood wide open and he ran inside, only to find her belongings gone, the ball gown discarded neglectfully on the bed.

Again.

“No!” he screamed loudly as he ran from the room and down the hallway. Fruitlessly, but still with a last gleam of hope, he still searched every room, but she was definitely not there.

By this time, Emma had run out from the kitchen after hearing the commotion. She saw Erik and called out to him, “Monsieur! What has happened?” she noted his missing jacket, sweat soaked shirt and overall disheveled appearance.

“Emma!” He ran down the stairs to her and held her hands. “Tell me you saw Danielle tonight!”

“No, of course not, why? Is she not with you?”

“She has left, again!” He told her, then emitted a sound that, to Emma, reminded her of a wolf’s cry. He dejectedly stalked along the foyer toward the library as Emma walked over to Jules, who by that time, had stopped at the open front door.

“Oh God, what happened Monsieur?”

He could only sigh, “Richard Dupré revealed the whole marriage ruse to everyone at the grand opening.”

Her gasp almost choked her. “How did he…?”

“We do not know, but unfortunately, that is not the worst. Dupré also accused her of having his child, a boy, out of wedlock eight years ago and he had demanded to know of his whereabouts.”

“What?” Emma could hardly believe it.

“Yes, I know.”

“Is it true?”

He shrugged, “Danielle denied it.”

“A child.” She shook her head. “Does Monsieur Erik believe her?”

“Yes, I believe he does, but unfortunately, she ran out and disappeared before they could talk about it. Then the investors called a meeting and he could not go after her, he was hoping she was here.”

It was on the way to the library that Erik, through his tears, spotted the open music room door and the candle lit at his piano. He knew he had not left it that way.

“Emma!” he cried out for her and she ran to him as fast as she could, if only to try and comfort him.

“Monsieur.” She grabbed his arm.

“Has anyone been in here tonight?” he gestured to the music room.

“No, Monsieur, it was closed when I left for my room earlier.”

With a nod, he went inside and straight to his piano.

He paused at the candle, then saw the paper.

He read the note.

He dropped the paper to the floor, sunk unto his piano stool, buried his head in his hands and began to cry. Danielle…my Danielle…

The distressing sound sent both Emma and Jules running to his side.

Emma fell to her knees before him, “Monsieur….we shall find her. Please do not cry. She returned once, she shall return again.” She held tight to him as he threw himself into her mothering arms. She tried to be optimistic, but inside, she was heartbroken. She cried softly with him as Jules picked up the note.

“What does it say?” she asked him, tears streaming down her face.

With a quiet toned voice, Jules read:

Why does my heart cry?

Feelings I can’t fight

You’re free to leave me, but just don’t deceive me

And please, believe me when I say…

I love you…

Please do not look for me, I cannot return. It is better this way.

Yours, Danielle

With a shake of her head, Emma asked, “What does that first part mean?”

Jules could only shake his head as well, confused as she was.

Erik looked up at them both. He understood the meaning through the enigmatic words. As much as it was killing her, Danielle had left on his behalf to save him from scandal, all because she loved him.

Nothing could compare to the love his heart held for her now. “She did it for me.” He told them both, his voice shaking before looking away, his eyes lost.

----------------------------------------------------------

For nearly an hour the three of them sat in the music room, the candle slowly burning down, wax pooling along the edges of the holder. Erik’s crying had ceased long ago, but his heart was heavy. He was now playing the piano as Emma and Jules sat on the couch, mesmerized by the sad melody that seemed to pour continually through his fingers.

“Monsieur!” The deafening sound of Jacques’ voice broke through the glum. Erik failed to notice.

“Music room!” Jules called out when he made no immediate move to answer him.

Jacques ran inside and stopped, shocked to see Erik’s tearstained face, but gathered himself. “Monsieur, I have information!”

With that, Erik’s eyes seemed to find new life. He jumped up off the piano stool. “Tell me, quickly!”

“I was riding down the streets, no one who had seen Mademoiselle Danielle, when I finally saw a carriage pull in by Devoir’s on Astorg. A man got down. He was holding a handful of francs, counting it. It appeared he had been rather busy that evening, so I ran over to him and asked if he had picked up a woman in his carriage earlier, a woman wearing a dark blue ball gown. He told me that he had indeed picked up a young woman on Monceau not that long ago with that very type of gown.”

“Where did he take her?” Erik asked impatiently.

“He said he took her to a home in Le Vezinet, and then she requested to be taken on to Versailles!”

Emma gasped, “Her cousin’s home!”

“Yes! When I asked, he described her perfectly, her eyes, her hair color - everything.”

“Excellent work, Jacques. Now we know where she has gone. Did you get his name?”

“Yes, I did. His name is Monsieur Rousseau. He gave me directions to her cousin’s home and I wrote them down. Here, Monsieur.” He pulled out a piece of the newspaper he had been reading earlier and handed it to Erik.

Erik looked over the paper and the scribbled directions, then patted him on the shoulder before saying, “Great. You can retire to bed now.”

When Jacques left, Erik again sat down at his piano, laying the paper on top of it. His eyes were pensive, his fingers gliding over the keys with far less emotion than before. Both Emma and Jules waited, knowing he was simply gathering his thoughts.

“Jules.” He finally whispered.

“Yes, Monsieur.” he rose and went to his side.

“Tomorrow, go to Jean-Pierre Durand’s shop. Take as many men as you like and tear the place apart, piece by piece. I want to know everything about that man, and Danielle. I want anything concrete that can prove she was not pregnant eight years ago. Find the family physician, also….”

“Yes of course.” He nodded.

“Let me ask you…” Erik rubbed his chin and turned his gaze up to him. “Who do you believe set up Danielle for Dupré to destroy like that?”

With a smirk, knowing full well Erik knew the answer, Jules replied, “If I was a betting man, I would say…the only man who was not in that board meeting tonight, the only investor who was invited to the grand opening and did not attend.”

“The very man who was in my home yesterday.” Erik growled, “Eduardo Mancia.”

“Yes, Monsieur.” Jules said, “But, why?”

“Revenge will drive a man to do many things….Mancia can be a vindictive man.”

“But help someone go after Danielle; surely Monsieur Mancia knew what Richard would do to her…” Emma added from her position on the couch.

“Yes.” He turned to her. “But, Mancia could not go after me and risk losing his promised percentages. He wanted me out, he has for quite some time, but he wanted to keep his hands clean.”

“And he allows Dupré to do the dirty work, while he sits in the shadows and watches.” Jules said.

“Yes. A very logical approach, actually. Yet, again, he underestimated me.” With a snort of contempt, he said slowly, “I will visit him tomorrow. He will talk or I shall leave there with his very heart as my trophy.”

Emma gasped, but kept her mouth covered with her hand.

“Will you send Jacques for Mademoiselle Danielle?” Jules asked him.

He sighed deeply, “No. She is safe now at her cousin’s home. She has had a stressful few days, let her stay there and rest while we clear her name, then I will go for her. Jacques will be needed elsewhere, first of all with me tomorrow when I speak to Monsieur Mancia. He is not the only one who can sit back and let someone else do their dirty work.”

--------------------------------------------

Mancia jiggled the handle to his office door at the opera house early the next morning and found it unlocked. He entered and found a very cheerful Richard Dupré sitting in the chair by his desk, calmly reading the morning paper.

“Monsieur.” Mancia said, walking to the desk and looking down at him.

“Good morning.” Richard replied with a smirk as he folded and laid the paper down on Mancia’s desk.

He studied the obviously happy man as she sat down, “I hope I did not keep you waiting long.”

“On the contrary, I had unlocked your door only a few minutes earlier, I knew you would wish to be here early. I will not keep you as I was simply returning your key.”

“I hope you made good use of it.” Mancia said jokingly as his beady eyes glanced around the office, “I see nothing broken or out of place, I was sure of the opposite. I assessed Madame Renault to be quite the little hellcat when she gets going, perhaps I was mistaken.”

Richard turned his head with a laugh, showing Mancia the very obvious red streaks on his cheek left by Danielle’s angry blow. “No, you are quite correct in your assessment. In that notion, she has not changed.”

“Umm, I see. So you did make good use of my office…”

“No, actually, I did not need it. Change of plans really. She refused to go with me in here, so instead I confronted her in front of everyone in the grand foyer.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It worked to my advantage, actually better than I had imagined. It brought out Erik Renault’s dangerous side for all to see, plus it succeeded in humiliating Danielle, which I enjoyed tremendously. She slapped my face and ran out.”

“And what happens now?”

Richard pulled out a handful of francs and slid them across Mancia’s desk. “Here is what I owe you for your generosity. All that remains now is waiting until tomorrow. You see, after what happened, all the investors met in the board room…”

“What? Why was I not summoned?”

Richard waved his hand placidly, “My apologies but everything happened so fast. Anyway, I demanded Renault be removed, but of course I was outvoted, at least for now, especially by Monsieur Daque, you know the man is afraid of his own shadow. So they set a meeting for tomorrow and if they don’t get rid of him then, I am going to the Époque.”

“Did you find out about your child?”

“No, I did not. I heard Monsieur Daque tell Renault that it would be in his best interest for him to find out about the child. Perhaps he will do my leg work for me or, if anything, get Danielle to speak.”

Richard then stood and walked slowly towards the door as Mancia laughed deeply, placing the money into his pocket.

“You will, of course, vote out Renault tomorrow…” Richard said as he opened the door. He tossed the office door key to Mancia. It landed on his desk with a loud clank. “The meeting is set for five o’clock in the conference room.”

With a gleam in his eyes, Mancia said confidently, “Do not worry, we have an understanding.”

When Richard left…a satisfied smirk on his face, Mancia shook his head, placing the key in his pocket and pulling some papers out of his desk to read through before his secretary arrived.

He was unaware of the sinister eyes that glared at him from the shadows….

It was not long before a strong, but mysterious gust of wind blew through the small enclosed office, sending Mancia’s papers flying out in all directions.

“What the hell?” he said out loud as he rose from his desk running to the window to shut it, wondering what in the world would possess Dupré to open it in the first place on such a cold morning.

But it was shut...and locked.

He froze in stunned silence as his eyes scanned the small room, neither hearing nor seeing nothing out of place. With a groan, he bent down in an effort to pick up his scattered papers.

But he never got the chance.

Jacques ran out, seemingly out of thin air, and grabbed Mancia by the throat. He shoved the large man down onto the desk, flat on his back as he cried out for help in vain, but went silent when Jacques forced his head over the edge of the desk, pushing down hard. Mancia could feel his spine straining under the stress of the young man’s strength.

“Dear God, what are you doing, you pathetic fool?” he squeaked out, but Jacques merely gave a menacing stare.

“I would be careful of your words, Mancia…” Erik said. His voice seemed to float around the room, low and dangerously vicious as he came to stand at Mancia’s desk. He looked down at him with cold, black eyes.

“Renault….if this is over your maid, I….”

“This does not involve Lacie and you know it.”

“Where did you come from?” Mancia struggled against Jacques, which only succeeded in making him maintain a tighter grip.

“Shut up until Monsieur Renault addresses you directly!” the young man snapped.

“I would listen to him…” Erik’s mouth curled in a sneer, “If he presses downward one more inch, your spine will snap like sapling wood.”

Mancia panted, but kept silent.

Erik began to walk around the desk, keeping his gaze locked onto the man’s fat face, “Very good. Now, you will answer my questions, correct? Respond by saying yes.”

“Yes.” He answered meekly, his eyes wide.

“See, Jacques, he is learning. Let up on him, just a little.”

Jacques released his grip just enough to relieve some of the pressure and Mancia relaxed slightly.

“Tell me, Mancia. How long were you aware of the plans Richard Dupré had for running me out of the opera house and shaming my wife?” He asked, still using the word wife. He refused to use anything else.

“I do not know what you mean...” Mancia panted.

“Apparently I was premature in my earlier assessment…” Erik smirked and with a wave of his hand, Jacques pushed him down again, harder than before.

Mancia let out a pitiful, anguished cry. “Please no!”

“Perhaps you would like to consider your answer…”

“I…I am sorry…I…” he struggled.

“Tell me how long you have known…” His voice echoed off the thin walls.

“Two days. I swear, he told me only two days ago. I went to you, tried to warn you…” his voice squeaked, “Oww, my back!”

Erik paced around the room slowly again as he thought about it, ignoring Mancia’s pained cry. “So, you came to warn me. And what made you decide not to tell me?”

“I was…attacked. By him.” He glared up at Jacques.

“Oh, I see…” Erik’s voice dripped of sadistic sarcasm, “because Jacques here attacked you – justifiably - you decide to allow my wife to be thrown to the wolves….”

Jacques growled angrily, pushing hard against Mancia’s throat.

“For God’s sake, please Monsieur!” Mancia cried out in even more pain as the blood rushed to his head, throbbing.

“You put your hands on my employee, the lady that this man intends to marry. He should have killed you.” Erik said, his voice even and low. He refused to let his anger get the best of him again.

“I only wished to offer the young lady a job – honestly - and she panicked. When she ran, she caught her skirt and it tore…”

“Liar!” Jacques screamed in his face. “I saw the handprints on her thighs you bastard!” Then he turned to Erik, “Let me kill him now, Monsieur….please!”

Erik put a hand on Jacques’ shoulder. “In due time. Right now I need answers.”

“You are going to kill me?” his eyes darted nervously between both Erik and Jacques.

But Erik just laughed. It was a heinous, anger-filled laugh that made even Jacques’ spine tingle.

“Please! I shall tell you everything I know, spare me!” Mancia cried weakly.

Erik turned his attention back to him, “Very well. If you tell me everything, I shall spare your useless, pitiful life. Now, why does Dupré want me out?”

Mancia coughed slightly, “He wishes to gain majority control. He underestimated just how much the opera house would bring in, profit wise. He asked me to show him the numbers, and I did. And…he decided then he wanted to take over, he said with you out, he could get…your shares before they are divided up amongst the other shareholders…he plans to move back to Paris…”

“Umm, smart move, trying to eliminate the competition. Yet, I am not concerned about my shares, they are safe and under contract. They cannot be stripped from me, not by the board, not by anyone. An underestimate on your part. No, my concern is Danielle. What exactly does he want with her?”

“Only to find out about the child…”

“What do you know of this child?”

“Nothing I swear….” He panicked. “All I know is that a few years ago Monsieur Durand told him she had become pregnant and he was so embarrassed that he refused to marry her, opting to marry another woman. He said he regretted not finding the child over the years. Then he recognized Danielle at the party. He went to Monsieur Durand who lied, saying the child had died, apparently it was not true.”

“And you do not know whether this child was put up for adoption.”

“No, I do not know….”

“And the marriage?”

“He sent a courrier to Boscherville, only seeking to initially prove that Danielle was lying about her name, to prove her true identity. He did not know there would be no record of the marriage. But he used it to his advantage….”

Erik began to pace around, which made Mancia even more nervous. “Now, I want to know what part you had in last night’s events.”

“I….gave Dupré a key to this office, so he could bring Madame in here…” Mancia struggled to keep a breath under the enormous pressure, “he had planned on blackmailing her for information about the child, telling her if she cooperated, the whole scandal involving your marriage would be swept under the rug. But he said he had never planned on keeping the promise…”

Erik waved his hand again and this time, Jacques pulled Mancia up from the desk, throwing him into the chair by his window. The man landed with a hard thud and immediately held his throat as he choked in a few breaths of fresh air.

“How did you get in here? Dupré and I had the only keys…” he asked.

“Bloody hell,” Erik smirked, “I built this opera house, Mancia, I can get into any room I wish, with or without a key.

“What now, Monsieur?” Jacques asked, keeping his eyes glued on Mancia. The young man rubbed his hands together, ready….

A long pause as Erik circled the chair, closely studying his nemesis. The man had been forthright, but only under duress. Every inch of the man sickened him, from his balding head, to his nasty crumb filled beard to his God awful shoes that squeaked when he walked. Although he would love nothing more than to rid the earth of his presence, his true blood lust called for Richard Dupré. Yet, his own sense of justice demanded something and he knew exactly what had to be done.

“I have no more use of him.” He replied in a tone so menacing that it appeared to make the room turn cold. He then looked at his driver, “He is yours. Do with him as you please.”

Mancia’s eyes widened as slow satisfaction appeared on Jacques face, “But, I told you all I know, I swear it! You told me you would spare my life!”

“Yes…” Erik hissed softly as he approached him, looking down into his frightened eyes. “But I am a liar. I am the Phantom, Monsieur. The devil himself is no better a deceiver and the world would play the great fool to believe anything I say from now on.”

And with that, Erik turned with a flourish, his black cape momentarily blinding, and he suddenly disappeared seemingly into the wall, leaving only Jacques behind, glaring at Mancia…

…with a smirk, and a knife….