Chapter Twenty-two:
Jules had been pacing around Erik’s library for a good forty-five minutes by the time he saw the carriage pull up. It was well after lunch and he was anxious to know how the meeting with Monsieur Mancia had gone. In his hands, he clutched a small book and his finger tapped on it nervously.
“Do not worry, Monsieur Bernard, he shall be in shortly.” Emma said as she stood in the doorway of the library, on her way to the front door.
“Yes, I know.” He sighed, pointing out the window, “Is he better today?”
Shaking her head, Emma replied, “I am afraid he has not spoken but very few words to me…his mood is grim, his eyes are dark. He is not mean to us, but very short tempered and aloof, almost as aloof as he was when we first came to work for him…we are all worried, Monsieur…please take care.”
“I understand.”
Erik exited the carriage and threw a glance to Jacques, who was pulling his jacket around his blood splattered shirt to hide it from view until he could rid himself of it. The men exchanged looks, but nothing else. Erik chose not to question exactly what happened to Monsieur Mancia….at least not yet…and it appeared that Jacques was in no mood for idle chit chat.
Jules stood by Erik’s desk and waited as he heard Emma inform him that he was there waiting. He heard Erik make no immediate reply, but within a second, he was there at the door and Jules shuddered at the sight of his employer.
He was dressed in black, from head to toe, including the long cape and thick hood that was wrapped around, covering the mask…almost.
“Monsieur….” Jules began as Erik slowly removed the hood. The white mask…so obviously stark against the black was unmistakable and stood out by contrast. He truly looked like Death, or…well, the Phantom.
Unsure what to say and suddenly very nervous, he continued when Erik made not move to speak. “I hope to find you in better spirits?”
“I shall not be in better spirits until Danielle is by my side and my enemies disposed of…one way or another.” Erik answered sharply as he continued into the library and made his way to the desk, the cape sliding from his shoulders. He deposited the garment and hood onto the chaise, then sat down, folding his arms across his chest.
“How did the meeting go with Monsieur Mancia?” Jules asked when he felt it appropriate to speak again.
He gestured for Jules to sit down, which he did. “Not terribly productive. He knows very little that we did not already suspect. His part was rather simple, giving Dupré a key to his office so he could use it to take Danielle there. He had intended on blackmailing her for information on the child, promising my safety, but was not going to keep the promise.”
“The poor girl, being blackmailed for information she did not have.”
“Yes, I know.” Erik’s face turned even more morose, if that was possible. He laid awake the entire night thinking of how she must have felt. Her eyes as she looked upon him, the fear, the confusion and humiliation. His blind rage, which in retrospect only had made matters worse, drove him to see nothing at that moment but throwing Dupré over the railing to his death, smiling with pure satisfaction. Yet, on the other hand, he did not know if he could have lived with himself if Danielle had witnessed him taking Dupré’s life and he was grateful…if one so angry could be grateful…that the men had held him back.
“What will become of Mancia then?”
Erik’s eyes snapped back to Jules, “I left that up to Jacques. I will wait until an appropriate time to ask the important questions…” He paused, then reached inside his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to Jules. “But I did get this…”
He took it and read silently, then gasped out loud, “Dear God! This is a letter of resignation and a preemptive contract from Monsieur Mancia, saying he resigns his position at the opera house and turns over all of his shares and portfolio to you!”
“Yes, and ready for witness signatures. I trust you can forge the necessary notary seal and find two witnesses willing to sign a blind document, so it holds up to the board.” He told him coolly.
Jules sat uncomfortably for a second, his mind only barely conceiving what Jacques might have done to the man to make him sign such a document. “Of course, that can be done.” With a sigh, he continued, “It was growing later in the day, I was concerned when you did not arrive sooner.”
His eyes narrowed at Jules’. “Are you now my timekeeper Jules? I cannot come and go as I please?”
“Of course not, my apologies….” He started but was interrupted.
“If you must know…..I went to visit Madame Piret and her family afterwards to pay them for the inconvenience of her losing her position. She has found another job, but part time. I will compensate the salary loss until she can find something better. Perhaps you can ask around the opera house for a position for her with the costumes department, or possibly something in the other departments for her husband, he is a skilled mason and a strong man, very good with his hands I was told.”
“Yes, Monsieur, I shall work on that within the next few days.”
“Good. Now….what happened at the dress shop?”
“Oh!” He had almost forgotten. “I took five men with me just nine o’clock. Madame Trudeau was there in the shop, but I informed her that she should leave and not return. I paid her for the hassle of not having worked the full seven days. Durand was still asleep, Madame Trudeau telling me that he had not hardly stepped foot in the shop since she had been there. I instructed the men to began in the backroom, but I told them not to destroy anything there, especially the gowns, only to search… plus they could not tear apart Mademoiselle Danielle’s bedroom upstairs, I knew you did not wish to have anything of hers destroyed.
“And did you find anything?”
“Trash. The man was a hoarder and packrat. His ledger books are atrocious, simply unfathomable. I looked them over and the figures did not make sense. It’s very apparent by some of the entries that he had been stealing from the business for years, paying for a mistress he sees in the city. Plus, purchasing lots of liquor. I also found…gambling notes everywhere…
Erik groaned, “Do you have these books?” It made sense now why there seemed to be no money to pay off the debts, yet she was always working hard on gown after gown.
“Yes, I kept them, over there.” He pointed across the room to a valise by the couch.
Erik nodded, “Anything on Danielle?”
“Unfortunately, no, Monsieur. Nothing to prove that Danielle was not pregnant eight years ago.”
His heart sank at the news. He had held out a faint glimmer of hope that something might be there.
“And Durand…did he speak?”
“Sadly, the man was extremely hung over. We found several bottles of brandy and cheap whisky in his room. My men worked him over, trying to get anything from him about his lies, but he was in and out of consciousness, spouting nonsense and giving us nothing.”
He groaned louder, “So that was pointless…what about the family physician?”
“I have his information, I shall
leave it for you on the desk. But, I was
told he is out of
Erik pounded his fist on the desk. “Dead ends, nothing but dead ends!”
“Not exactly, Monsieur.” From under his arm, he pulled out the small book. He sat it on the desk and slid it to Erik.
Erik furrowed his brow and examined the book closely. Its brown leather bound cover was worn and dusty gray, the edges of the pages yellowed, smelling of dampness. “What is this?”
“Open to the first page and read.”
He did just that. “Diary of…” he paused to read the faded writing, “…Geneviève Andrée Leroy Durand.”
His eyes widened and he looked up at Jules. “Danielle’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“Where was this found?”
“Upon tearing up Durand’s bedroom. There was a niche inside a locked wardrobe that was filled with many gowns and clothing I assumed belonged to Madame Durand. It appeared to have been untouched for many years.”
“Does Durand know you have this?”
“No, he went almost hysterical when he found out we had gotten into the wardrobe in the first place. I do not know if he knew that the journal was there beforehand or not, he passed out after that.”
Erik ran his hand over it slowly. “I am sure Danielle does not know about this.”
“I would venture not.”
He read the name again… Geneviève Andrée Leroy Durand…
“Leroy…” Erik let it roll off his tongue. “Surely not the Leroy
Family of
“I believe it could be the very same, Monsieur.”
“Danielle never spoke of…but…doubtful she never knew. She told me that when her mother married her father, that she was disowned.”
“Conceivable, considering their wealth and social status, their daughter running off and marrying a man like Durand would be quite scandalous.”
He scratched his chin and thought hard. “Jules…”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Start out for
“Yes, Monsieur, but what about the family doctor?”
“I shall question him myself tomorrow. Right now, I am going to read over this journal. I know it will not unlock the mystery of this child, but perhaps it will help me to understand more about Danielle.”
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As the carriage pulled up to the front of the Leroy’s home late that evening, the driver simply sat and shook his head at the anxious man fumbling for a few francs in his pocket.
The Leroy home, just outside
“It is a waste of time, Monsieur. The Leroy’s allow no one into their home.” The driver said.
“I must try, it is very important that I speak with them.” He replied.
“Just the same, I shall wait for you here, you will not be long.”
With a glance, Jules went up to the door and knocked, seeing the light of gas lamps through the uncovered side windows. Quarter past seven o’clock. It was apparent no one had retired for the evening as he checked his pocketwatch.
When no immediate reply came from inside, he knocked again, this time a bit harder.
“I tell you, they might not even open the door.” The driver commented once more from his position upon the carriage.
Jules sniffed in another breath of courage and kept his fingers crossed. Within a minute, the door opened just slightly to show a much older woman in a fine maid’s uniform.
“Yes?” she said meekly.
“Is this the Leroy home?”
She nodded, “Yes. Are you expected, Monsieur?”
“No, actually I am not,” he replied with a slight bow,
removing his hat, “I am Jules Bernard, I have come from
“No one sees Monsieur or Madame Leroy without an invitation.” The maid said loudly and with more authority.
“Please, it is of the utmost importance that I speak with them.”
“I am afraid that is not possible…” she began to shut the door, but Jules caught it with his foot.
“Please, I must at least speak to one of them. I can wait, simply tell them I am here.”
“No!” the maid cried out, kicking Jules’ foot out of the way. The door slammed shut tight.
“Madame, I beg you!” he pounded on the door.
He could hear the maid close by replying loudly, “No!”
“It is about Geneviève!” he called out in last resort and immediately a silence fell behind the closed door.
Finally, the maid’s voice again, “You have come about Mademoiselle Geneviève?”
“Yes, Madame.”
Rapid footsteps echoed through the foyer area of the home, footsteps that dissipated, but within a few seconds, reappeared and stopped at the door. It flew wide open.
“Come inside.” The maid said with haste.
I knew it…
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After remaining in the foyer for what seemed an eternity after the maid had disappeared a second time, Jules was finally summoned to a small sitting room just off the main foyer by an older man. He followed him through the open door and watched as the man shut the door behind him.
Inside there sat a woman, her face appeared to still be youthful in comparison to her thin, frail body, but her hair, pinned up neatly away from her face, was so gray it was almost white. She sat in a chair by the small fireplace with her hands folded in her lap, but Jules could see some knitting close by that did not look neglected. She smiled pleasantly but did not speak.
“Good evening, Monsieur.” The older man spoke behind him in a hoarse, deep voice and Jules turned face him. His hair was less gray than the woman’s, his face also youthful in appearance, sans a few deep lines around his mouth and eyes, which seemed less visible when he smiled. “I am Armand Leroy, welcome to our home.”
Jules eyes brightened as he offered his hand to the gentleman, “Thank you, I am Jules Bernard.”
“A pleasure. And this is my wife, Sophia.” Armand gestured to the woman in the chair and Jules smiled, walking to her and offering his hand.
“Madame.” He bowed.
“Monsieur Bernard, welcome.” She took his hand and he kissed it respectfully. “Please, sit down.” She gestured to the small, but elegant couch along the window.
“Thank you.” Jules removed his coat and saw the maid come in from another entrance. She took his coat and hat, and gave him a pleasant grin.
“This is our maid, Amelie.” Sophia said.
Jules nodded to her and she gave a slight bow in return.
Armand sat down next to Jules, “I understand from Amelie
that you have come from
“Yes, I have.”
“That is a long journey,” Sophia said, “You must be almost frozen, would you like Amelie to make you some hot tea?”
“No, but thank you anyway.” His tone remained serious and Armand threw a quick look to Amelie. She quietly left the room.
“Well, perhaps you should tell us the nature of your visit then. I understand it has to do with Geneviève?”
Jules smiled. “Yes, your daughter I understand.”
Both Sophia and Armand exchanged glances and Jules held his breath.
“Yes, our daughter…our only child.” Armand finally answered. “What did you wish to know about her? Are you a friend of Jean-Pierre’s?”
“Yes, so to speak, I understand you disowned her years ago when she married Monsieur Durand?”
A long pause fell and again, the couple glanced at one another, but this time, their faces were wracked with confusion. Jules was unsure as to why.
“Monsieur, how did you come to such a conclusion?” Armand asked.
“From Monsieur Durand, of course.”
The couple gasped.
“That is not true, not true at all!” Sophia burst out suddenly but Armand shushed her. “No darling…we must not lose ourselves, there must be an explanation….”
Jules studied the couple before asking, “Then I am to assume then that you in fact did not disown your daughter?”
“No, never. We wrote, we tried to find her after they ran off together….we told her it was alright, that we would help her….but all we got in return was that she had died.”
“Yes, ruptured appendix…I know.”
“What? No, you must be mistaken, Monsieur, Geneviève died giving birth.” Sophia said.
Jules scowled. Died in childbirth? “How long ago?”
Armand replied, “Twenty-nine years ago.”
It was Jules’ turn to gasp and go silent now. They thought their daughter was dead for twenty-nine years, giving birth to a child…a child that must be Danielle.
“Monsieur, are you alright?” Armand leaned closer.
Jules looked his way and said sternly, “Perhaps you should tell me the whole story.”
“Geneviève was barely twenty-one when she became pregnant by
Jean-Pierre Durand.” Armand started, “We knew little about him other than he
was a craftsman and much older, nearly nine years her senior. Of course we were appalled and upset that the
pregnancy had happened, but they were engaged at the time and we thought that
the best thing for them to do was marry quickly and perhaps pass off the child
as being premature. Suddenly, the next
day, she left, leaving a note saying she was sorry she
had shamed us. Naturally, we looked all
over for her, only to be sent a message a week later that said she had married
Jean-Pierre and settled in
“And the child?”
Sophia spoke up then, “We desperately wanted to keep in contact, so we could see the child after it was born. We sent letter after letter to the address left with his original correspondence, but we never received anything in reply. Finally, one day, about eight months after she had left, Jean-Pierre came to us. He looked devastated. That was when he said that Geneviève had died in childbirth just a few days prior. I asked about services, but he said he had already buried her. He gave us a box of her few remaining trinkets….a couple of her gowns, some jewelry, nothing much else. Then he left and we never heard from him again.”
“He never said the child lived or died?”
“I asked. He said the child was stillborn, that the doctor had told him that the child had died long before in the womb, a birth defect of some sort.” Armand said as Sophia turned away, staring blankly at wall, her mind miles away.
Jules could only sit and shake his head slowly, then inhaled, knowing what he had to tell them would be a shock.
“There is no other way to tell you both this to soften the impact….but your daughter did not die twenty-nine years ago.”
“What?” Sophia turned back sharply.
“She is not dead? If that is so, then where is she?” Armand asked.
“I am sorry, but Geneviève is indeed deceased now, mind you, but she died eight years ago of a ruptured appendix…not in childbirth. To my understanding, she was actually under the impression that the two of you had disowned her.”
Tears formed in Sophia’s soft brown eyes as Armand asked, “Jean-Pierre…he lied. Why?”
That reason I do not know, but I do know this…you have a grandchild, alive.”
Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth. “The child lived?”
“Yes, a girl. Her name is Danielle Andrée.”
“Oh my…” Sophia exhaled softly.
“Danielle…does she…does she know about us?” Asked Armand.
“No, she was told the same lies as your daughter, she does not know anything of your existence.”
“How do you know all of this? Are you a friend of Danielle’s?”
“Well…let us just say that I am quite fond of her, yes.”
“Husband?” Armand said.
“No, I have a wife and children of my own. See, my employer, Erik Renault and Mademoiselle Danielle…they plan to marry…and he wished for her to know her heritage and background, we did some digging around and found her mother’s maiden name. We put two and two together and I came here, hoping….”
“A granddaughter Armand…” Sophia almost whispered and he went to her, falling to his knees, holding her hands.
“It is almost too much to have dreamed…” he whispered, then he turned to Jules. “May we meet her?”
“Of course you may meet her!” he laughed, “She is your
granddaughter and she will be so happy to see both of you. If you wish, I can bring you back with me to
There was no argument as Armand called out, “Amelie! Prepare a room for Monsieur Bernard for the evening, and start packing our bags!”
Chapter Twenty-Three:
The house was a dark as it should be for such a late hour as Emma left her room, located on the first floor of the servants’ house, and walked through the small alcove that connected it to the side door of Erik’s home.
She was hungry, and nothing would do but a slice of Gisèle’s fresh home baked bread. In fact, she was so looking forward to it, she did not even bother to put on her dressing gown for bed, opting to read until she knew Gisèle would be out of the kitchen for the night and would not try to run her out.
She entered the house quietly and headed for the kitchen, yet as she passed by the library, she could see a glimmer of candlelight shining underneath the closed doors.
With narrowed eyes, she turned the knob, hoping that Lacie didn’t forget to extinguish the candles earlier. When the door opened, she peeked inside to find Erik sitting in one of the large chairs by the window, a single four candle candelabra lit on the table nearby. He was pensive, brows furrowed as he stared down reading something in his lap as he held a brandy snifter in one hand. He was so engrossed that it appeared he didn’t even notice she had come inside.
“Monsieur, it is late, you should be resting.” She spoke to him softly, afraid of perhaps angering him. But he did need to rest.
His head rose slowly and he turned to her. What a kind soul she was. He felt guilty for his distancing himself from her….from everyone….over the past day. They took his snappish and detached behavior without question and they truly didn’t deserve it.
“I should say the same for you, you are up later than usual.” He replied.
“I was on my way, after having a bit of bread and milk. I am more concerned with you. I saw the candles lit and…”
“Do not concern yourself with me, Emma…I shall rest soon enough.” His took great pains to make his voice far less rigid. He truly appreciated that she cared for him. He ventured a mother would do no less, if he had one of course. She came frighteningly close.
She sensed his calmer nature and took it upon herself to come further into the room, “I do concern myself with your welfare, Monsieur…” and approach his chair, “…your eyes are bloodshot…you have not shaved…I know you have not slept or eaten. Mademoiselle is safe with her cousin, and when you go for her, she will return, in that you must believe and therefore, take care of yourself in the meantime. I am sure she would not want this for you.”
“Yes, I know she would not.” He sighed, “Most insane, is it not Emma? To be so…obsessed with thoughts of a woman whom I have known two weeks? A woman, when I first met her, I thought to be horribly boring and plain? How could I have possibly….?”
“That is the best kind of love, Monsieur, one that catches you off guard.” She smiled.
He gestured for her to sit in the chair directly across from him and she did. “You know much of love?” he asked her.
“I have loved, yes, and you…you have courted many women, Monsieur.”
“No. Not courted. Mistresses, you do not court. There sole purpose is to fulfill sexual needs, not love. No, I know nothing of love.”
Sighing, she replied, “That is truly sad.”
“Have you loved so deeply and without reservation?”
“Yes. My late husband and I were very adoring and entirely in love, of course it did not start out that way...”
“What happened?” he prompted, but could see the distance growing in her eyes. He surmised it must be difficult to speak of her husband since his passing, “My apologies, it is not my business.”
“On the contrary, Monsieur…” she gazed at him thoughtfully, “we have never spoken of my past, have we?”
“No, we have not.” He replied, then waited as he took a sip of brandy.
“Francois was the best friend of my brother, Cyril. We had known each other practically all of our lives…and we never got along. He was only a year older than I, but to him, that meant he could boss me around as much as my brother did. He would make me so angry…” she laughed, “…that is until he moved away when we were teenagers. When he returned five years later, we were mature and entering adult hood. We saw each other differently then. I suppose I always knew we loved one another, but still, as I say, it took us off guard. There was just no other man that made me feel so many emotions as Francois did…and when he died five years ago….well…”
“What did it feel like?”
“What did what feel like, Monsieur?”
“To be in love?”
“Oh, it feels like no other emotion that exists. My heart would ache when he was gone even for a short time, but it would sing when he was near. My body would tremble when he did something as simple as hold my hand, my cheeks flushed when he touched my face. For him, I gave him my soul, for me, he gave me the world…and a beautiful child.”
Erik looked wistfully out the window.
“Did you feel this way about the Vicomtess, Monsieur?”
“No, that was not love, it was fascination. She became my whole world because we shared a common loneliness. Her without her father…wishing for one, me without…well…anyone at all. I mistook that neediness for love. I realized that now, being out in the world where I have found kinship among other people…” he looked at her with deep respect and affection, “…where I have found…friends. How can what I had with Christine be love if I was the only one who felt it?”
With a smile, she said, “You feel that way about Mademoiselle Danielle.”
“Yes, heaven help me. I never thought I would feel anything for any woman after Christine broke my heart, much less even hope a woman would look upon me….I mean, I found physical gratification with the women I chose to associate with…none of them saw what was under here…” he gestured to his mask, “…but true love…the love you just described to me…no, I was sure I would die without knowing that.”
“But she loves you too.”
“Do you truly believe she does?” he asked, his eyes fading into an innocent, child like stare that made Emma’s heart break. In so many ways, he was still a young boy, searching for unconditional caring and acceptance.
She leaned across and touched his hand, “Yes, Monsieur, I believe she does, with as much passion as you love her. Why else would she leave like this? You said yourself she left on your behalf.”
“Yes, she did.” He said softly, then after a small pause, his anger returned. “Damn it all to hell! That bloody Richard Dupré!” he pounded his fists on the arm rests of his chair. “He was going to blackmail her for information on that non-existent child. Promise her my safety, that I would be free from scandal. Scandal! I do not care about scandal; my whole life has been nothing but shame and humiliation! But she would not have wanted that for me…she cared enough…” slowly his voice died off into a deep sigh.
“But once you prove she was never pregnant, he will go away, will he not?”
“He still wants me out.
Jules said he wishes to move his family back to
“Can he do that?”
With a smirk, Erik assured her, “No, believe me, he could never have acquired my shares, no matter how much he had blackmailed, schemed or lied his way in, using Danielle or not. They cannot be turned over with my signature and seal.”
“I see.” She said, then noticed the book in his lap. It was definitely new as she did not recognize it. “May I ask what you are reading? You appeared to be enthralled with it when I came in.”
“Ah!” he held it up for her to examine closely. “It is Danielle’s mother’s journal.”
“Really?” She leaned forward to get a better look at it.
His eyes turned sad, “Yes. I have been reading it for sometime now. Very illuminating. Danielle will be hurt by what is in these pages.”
“Like what?”
With a deep breath, he said, “For one…Geneviève Durand did not die of a ruptured appendix…she committed suicide.”
Emma gasped loudly, “What? But Danielle said….”
“Yes, I know. Danielle is unaware of it. When she spoke of her mother to me, she said that she had been rather despondent a few weeks or so before her death. I suspected something was wrong then. For a woman to be so sad, then just die suddenly of a physical ailment? No, you know I am not one to believe in mere coincidence. But now, reading this, it explains the suicide.”
“What drove the poor woman to do it?”
“This journal only spans the last year of her life. Where the others are I do not know, so when she speaks of the past, I have no real reference. But it appears to me that very shortly after their marriage, she gave birth to Danielle. Or maybe…”
“She was already pregnant when they married…?” Emma said.
“Yes.”
“But make her take her own life so many years later?”
“No.” Erik let out a breath, trying to put his thoughts together, “It appears that one night, in a drunken stupor and ensuing fight that Jean-Pierre told Geneviève that he was the sole reason that she had no contact with her parents.”
“How did he do that?” Emma’s eyes widened.
He opened his mouth to answer, but instead began flipping through the pages until he found a passage. He held it out for Emma to take and pointed. “Read this…out loud if you please, about two paragraphs into the entry….”
She took the journal and cleared her throat…
I do not know how I
could have been so blind to believe him all these years. Maman and Papa…for
so long I believed that they were ashamed of me, only to find out that
Jean-Pierre told them nothing but lies! I was in bed a mere two days after giving
birth to my beloved Danielle when he returned from their home to tell me that
they had disowned me…that they did not want anything to do with me or our new
daughter! Yet all the while, he had gone
to them and told them both Danielle and I had died in childbirth! Why would he do such a thing? How could he deny me the forgiveness of my
own parents? How could he deny his own
daughter the joy of knowing her grandparents?
What love I had for
this man had left me years ago, but now, I hold nothing but contempt. I feel nothing for him, and I swear to
heavens above, that if it was not for the fact that Danielle adored her father
so, I would…if I were stronger…
Oh, Maman and Papa, forgive me please! Forgive me for running away and marrying this
man! I do not know if you are alive or dead, yet I know that you believed me to
be dead….and perhaps….dead is what I should be…
Emma stopped reading and looked up at Erik. “Dear God, the poor woman…”
“I know.”
“A selfish act, not even thinking of her daughter when she decided to end her life.” She scowled slightly. “It is such a waste.”
“Yes, a selfish act, but she did think of Danielle, right up to the end. One of her last entries is addressed to Danielle. When she returns here, I shall make sure she reads it. She speaks of a note she left for her, but Danielle never mentioned anything about a note.”
“Perhaps Jean-Pierre got to it first,
did Mademoiselle not say that she was in
“Yes. And it is why she did it then, when Danielle would be away and would not be the one to find her. She did not wish for her to live with that image. Of course I am sure that Geneviève had no idea that Jean-Pierre would cover up the suicide.”
“Why would he? Surely not to spare Danielle’s feelings, it is apparent he cares nothing for her.”
“Maybe, but Danielle said they used to get along a little until her mother died. He might have wished to make it easier for her to handle.” Erik shrugged. “We may never truly know the answers to everything, considering they live inside Durand’s mind.”
Sitting back in her chair, Emma could only shake her head. “So by showing this to Danielle, it will answer some questions, but at the same time, open the door for even more.”
“Yes. But I cannot….will not keep this from her. She must know the truth.” He stood and walked over to the bookcase where he placed the journal safely in a small enclosure, locking it with a key. As the chime clock struck one o’clock, he turned back around and found that Emma had approached him.
“Come, Monsieur, it is bed for you, a busy day comes quickly.” She said.
With no further argument, he offered his arm to her with a smile of gratitude and they left the library together.
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In retrospect, Danielle started to feel terrible for showing up on Michelle’s doorstep two nights ago.
Michelle, seven months pregnant had no more than laid her body down on her cold empty bed, missing her husband, than she heard pounding on the front door, followed by her cousin’s frantic voice calling for her. When she opened the door, she found Danielle shivering, huddled inside a ratty wool blanket that belonged to the carriage driver. Tear stained face and weak spirited, she came inside and immediately began spouting her incredible story. It was shocking to say the least, but at least now she understood the meaning behind the enigmatic messages she had been receiving sparsely over the past week and a half.
Ever since then, Danielle had been, for the most part, quiet. She helped around the small home without question during the day while Michelle worked part time for Madame Souvigny. At night, they would read together or embroider, speak of family or Michelle would take to some mild gossiping that she had heard that day from Madame Souvigny, but nothing much else.
If Michelle brought up Erik in any way, Danielle simply changed the subject.
Standing at the sink doing the breakfast dishes, she glanced over at Michelle, who was sewing a missing button onto her maid’s uniform and not doing very well.
“Stupid button…I hate sewing!” she grumbled.
Danielle dried her hands on the towel and went to her, “Here, let me…” she took the needle and began to sew it on for her with a smile. The lovely brunette, just a month younger than Danielle was not known for her patience by any means.
“Thank you.” Michelle sighed at her. “So, how do you feel today?”
Not looking up from the button, Danielle replied, “Better.”
“You truly miss him.”
“I do.”
“And you love him.”
For a moment, her eyes lit up as she nodded, “More than anything…” then fell silent again.
“You do not have to talk about it, I know you keep avoiding the issue….”
“Thank you, I would rather not.” She kept her head down, concentrating on sewing instead of what her heart truly felt.
“But….” Michelle said.
“But what?”
“I can tell there is something else…you…seemed to be a bit pensive when I said that you loved him.
She cut the thread from the newly sewn button and laid the needle and scissors down on the table, “Apparently, he does not love me.”
“Why would you say that?”
“He has not come for
“He does not know where you are, you said yourself you did not tell him of your whereabouts.”
“He knows me, Michelle…he knows where I would have gone.”
“The man is not a mind reader.”
She jumped up, “He knew my mind! He knew you lived in
“If you wanted him to find you, Dani, then why did you not just tell him where you were going and save the man some legwork?”
She snorted. “I did not want him to follow me!”
“Then why, pray tell, are you so upset that he did not?”
She opened her mouth again to argue, but closed it quickly. It was confusing. She did want him to find her, yet she did not. She could not go back to him, not risk him losing everything he had worked so hard on for the past year. Lose the one thing, beyond money, that he always wanted…respect. No, she would not do that to him…ever.
“I suppose I cannot answer that…”
“I thought so…” Michelle’s face turned down slightly, while Danielle, with a deep breath, walked back to the sink to continue the dishes.
“You know…” she began after a few minutes silence, “I believe that tomorrow, I should find another place to live.”
Michelle’s head popped up so fast she almost stuck herself with the needle as she was trying to put it back in her sewing basket. “Leave? Why? You have enough money to hold you for a while…”
“I cannot stay here forever. Alain will be returning within the next couple of days and I would be intruding terribly. I have money, yes, but that will not last me forever. I must find employment.”
“But I love having you here….” Michelle’s eyes filled with tears, “I get so lonely when Alain leaves for work, he is always gone so long…”
“Please….do not make this more difficult…”
“I am sorry.” She wiped her tears and pasted a hopeful
smile, “At least you could stay in
“Yes, I might do that…”
“And Madame Souvigny has met you before, perhaps she would give you employment in her home, at least while I am out with the baby…then afterwards, if she liked your work…”
She scowled, “I do not know, I was hoping to find employment in a dress shop….”
“Just until I can return after the baby’s born? She pays a decent wage and she is a nice employer, you would like it there. I will talk to her this morning.”
“Are you sure she would hire me?”
“She told me I could pick anyone to take my place while I was out. And I choose you. Please say you will do it?”
With a sigh, Danielle reluctantly agreed. At least it was something…for now.
Chapter Twenty-four:
Étienne Bayre was not by nature a superstitious man, yet when he spotted an impeccably dressed man a white mask pacing in front of his small office as he returned around mid day, he was sure it had to be an omen. A bad one.
He knew the man as if he’d seen him grow up every day his life. Erik Renault. The nine year old child of his beloved Madeleine, the only woman he’d ever truly loved.
“Erik?” He said as he approached, narrowed eyed and observant.
For a moment, the two men simply stared at one another, a
long and uncomfortable silence falling.
Ever since he’d read the information that Jules left him on his desk the
day before, Erik had been wondering if this was possibly the same man he’d
known so many years ago, almost dreading it.
He remembered him well, the man who openly courted his mother, the man
who had insinuated that he be institutionalized, telling her she needed to be
free.
“I won't stand by and
see you driven out of your mind for the sake of a freak accident of nature. Erik had heard him
say, even through his laudanum induced haze. I'm very sorry for the child, but there's nothing I can do for him
except put him beyond the reach of the ignorant.”
His mother sighed, “Étienne...”
“No ... listen to me,
just listen! Let me make the arrangements and when it's done we'll go away from
here, far away where no one knows you, to a place where you can begin to
forget. I love you, Madeleine, and I know that you love me. There's no reason
in the world why we should not make our life together once you are free of this
monstrous burden.”
Monstrous burden…The man never understood him, his need for knowledge, his desire to experiment and learn. Étienne Bayre had seemed
larger than life and frightening then.
He had been the cause of his obsessive jealousy, but now appearing
before him after such a long absence, he knew this was the same man, but far less fearsome, almost frail bodied.
Perhaps there had been nothing to fear in the first place.
“Doctor Bayre.” He finally answered very politely with a slight bow of
his head, “I hope to find you well.”
It was if the enormous gap in years had suddenly been filled. It certainly appeared that the once angry,
selfish, curiously genius child had now grown into a fine and courteous man of
seemingly high social stature.
“I am as to be expected for a man of my advanced years. How are you, Monsieur?” the word Monsieur barely escaped his lips in automatic response. Although he never thought he would ever address Erik in such a form, his strong presence almost demanded it and he found he did it without question. “As you have come to pay me a call, I hope that you are not ill.” He said, still uneasy in his presence, even though Erik showed no outward signs of malice.
Erik studied the man closely, feeling he meant every word. There were so many things that had been left undone, unsaid. And how he hated that! But things are always so much clearer through adult eyes. Maybe someday, he could say the words….actually begin to express that now, after all these years, he finally understood just how much the man had loved his mother. “No, I am quite well, thank you.”
Unlocking the door to his office, he gestured, “Then, please come inside.”
“Thank you.” Erik followed and waited just inside the door as Étienne threw open the window curtains to allow some light into the small sitting room. In the back lay two closed doors, one Erik surmised must be an examining room, the other he did not know.
Étienne pointed to a small chair and watched as Erik sat down before sitting down on his couch that was directly facing it. “So, what brings you here? I hope it is not to rehash old wounds after so many years.” He gave a soft laugh that came out nervously, although he truly didn’t wish it that way.
With his own, much deeper laugh, Erik replied, “No, perhaps not at this time…although I daresay there is much we need to say to one another after many years absence.”
Étienne nodded, “Yes, I agree. Then, what can I do for you?”
“I will pull no punches, Doctor, I need information from you.” His voice was firm and decisive.
“I will help you if I can, what do you need to know?”
“I understand that you are the long time physician of the Durand Family.”
“Umm….Jean-Pierre, Geneviève? Yes.” Étienne nodded. “I have
been their physician since Danielle was a small child, just after I settled
here in
“Yes, I see. So you have extensive medical records I presume?”
“Yes, of course. But surely you know I cannot give out personal medical information, it is against medical ethics.”
“I am well aware of the ethics of many professions, Doctor Bayre, yours is no more sacred than another.” He spat out quickly, then inhaled calmly, “nevertheless you must understand, it is important that I have these answers.”
“What do you wish to know about the Durand’s, specifically?”
“Two questions only…first. Did you examine Geneviève Durand after her death?”
“I see…” Étienne grimaced, “I did not, actually. If my memory serves me correctly, I was away when she died. Another physician, who was a friend of Monsieur Durand’s was called in and he ruled her death to be, I believe a ruptured appendix…?”
“That is Jean-Pierre’s story, yes.”
“Yes, his story.” Again, Étienne’s memory was becoming clearer and he gave a scowl which raised Erik’s curiosity.
“But you have doubts…”
“Yes.” he paused just long enough to stand and begin to leaf through several journals that lay in his desk drawer. It took him a few moments of looking through one of the thick books before he returned and began to nod in agreement. “Yes, here are my notes on the matter…this was nine years ago. The physician had ruled based on Jean-Pierre’s description that Geneviève had been having severe pain in her right side for as long as a week, yet two days before her death, I had seen her at the market, she was not in pain, nor did not complain of pain when I spoke to her. In fact, she was quite pleasant and seemingly healthy.” He closed his book and looked at Erik.
“You wrote it down? You must have had definite suspicions….”
“Yes, suspicions mind you, nothing concrete, just my ramblings on the incident. From what I understood, there was no marital strife, nor abuse, no money problems…so no one suspected foul play, the matter was closed.” He studied Erik’s reaction closely, then said, “You know something…”
“I do…” he replied, then paused.
Étienne waited.
Erik said nothing.
“Well?” he finally asked impatiently.
“I do wish to give you the information…but….”
Étienne’s thin lips formed a smirk. Here it was, shades of the young slick hustler. He’d play along, for amusement sake. “But, what?”
“I want information from you first.”
“Yes?” Étienne shrugged.
“My second question. I wish to know if Danielle Durand has ever been pregnant.”
That alarmed Doctor Bayre… so much so that his mouth dropped. “Why, no. Not to my knowledge. Yet, I am not an obstetrician, so if she had been with child, I would not necessarily know…but I do know that I have not seen a child in the Durand household, why?”
“She has been accused of having the child of Monsieur Richard Dupré eight years ago, out of wedlock and giving the child up for adoption.”
“Dupré…Oh! Madame Dupré’s eldest son…” he gasped. “Oh my…well…umm…” he paused in thought. “Danielle is such a kind young lady, a scandal like this could hurt her…let me check through my records…eight years ago you say?”
“Yes.”
Étienne excused himself and left the sitting room for the second small room while Erik studied his watch. Two-thirty. The board would be meeting at five o’clock. He sat pensively and fiddled with the edge of his cape as he could hear the sound of papers rustling close by. It was bad enough that he had waited on Doctor Bayre over two hours, now he had to hurry; he had to get the evidence to Dupré at the meeting, one way or the other.
When the doctor finally returned, he was holding a folder of papers in his hand, looking at them closely. “Umm…yes….eight years ago….you do not have an exact supposed birth date for this child?”
“No, I am afraid not…but I believe that it could have been around early fall, perhaps September, October…?” He said enigmatically. He recalled Danielle mentioning in the past that Richard had ended their relationship sometime around mid March. Thus doing the math, he could get an estimate.
“I have three entries listed for that year….here…the last entry is the eighth of September. Yes, I remember well….she had burned her arm on a hot iron…her forearm, it says here. I treated the wound… a relatively mild burn, prescribed some ointment and sent her home. I see no entry here for her being pregnant, and believe me, if she had been, I would have noted it. The thin girl that she was, she would have shown significantly, even as early as her fifth month.”
“Are you sure?” Erik sat up straight as an arrow.
“Absolutely.”
The weight that was lifted off Erik’s shoulders could be felt throughout the entire room. His body suddenly slumped as his head fell back slightly, eyes clinching shut. He felt in his heart it was not true, yet still….he was ashamed that just a small part of his mind still was unsure and wanted conclusive proof.
Étienne saw the obvious relief and smirked at him, “I am to assume you have an interest in Mademoiselle Durand?”
He felt no harm in telling the doctor now, “She is to be my wife.”
His eyes widened, “I see. And you wish to know be proven of her innocence and worth…”
Erik grew cold as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a scowl creeping across his face, “The woman is well worthy, Doctor, I would take great care in speaking otherwise.” His voice dropped at least two octaves.
“Oh, of that I have no doubt!” he replied quickly, “As I said, I have known Danielle since she was three years old. The last few years she had been somewhat of a recluse, actually both her and Jean-Pierre were…”
“Yes, I know.”
“My apologies if I implied anything…I am truly happy to know that the two of you will marry. When, may I ask?”
“Within the next few days, I plan to take her to
Boscherville. She is in
“Well, please give her my best wishes.” He said with genuine feeling.
Erik sat back again, appeased that no harm was done, “I shall do just that, thank you.”
“So…I have answered your question….I hope you will answer my curiosity…”
“About Madame Durand.”
“Yes.”
“She committed suicide, Doctor.”
He gasped, “How do you know this?”
“I obtained a journal, from approximately the last year of her life. She wrote about the suicide in it…all planned out, you see. She wrote about why she was doing it, how she planned on doing it, and when.”
“Suicide…by what method?” Étienne said again, as if saying it would make it more plausible. He simply could not comprehend a fine woman like Geneviève Durand taking her own life.
“She notes that she obtained a vile of colocynth, a pure
extract and very concentrated. She said
she planned on mixing it with her tea to hide the bitter taste.”
“Oh dear God…she suffered so…and yes, the symptoms could very well be mistaken for severe appendicitis, except that the victim dies so suddenly with the colocynth.”
Erik simply nodded and let the doctor stew over the new information.
“And Jean-Pierre knew this?”
“He must have known she committed suicide. She said she planned on leaving a note for Jean-Pierre. He found her, I am sure he found the notes as well, but he decided to have it covered up.”
“So Danielle does not know her mother took her own life?”
“No, she will soon enough, Jean-Pierre did not tell her anything. I found the journal in her absence and there is a passage, folded and addressed to her, but I did not read it.”
“It will be a terrible blow.” He sighed.
“Yes, but I will be there for her… she will not suffer with it alone.”
Étienne paused, catching the sincerity in his eyes, that now so resembled Madeleine’s. Could it be that the once unaffectionate, unfeeling child could now be truly in love? He never thought it would happen, and dearly wished that Madeleine had lived to see it for herself.
With a shrug, Erik stood up, “Forgive the short nature of my
visit, Doctor, but I must be leaving now. Perchance, could you do me the favor
of copying your notes of that particular day for me, so I may have them? I have
a meeting of the board of directors of the opera house and I will just barely
make it home to retrieve my papers as it is. My associate has yet to return
from
Jumping up, Étienne joined him, “Copy of my notes? Why would you need to take my notes to the opera house board?”
“Because Richard Dupré is my fiancée's accuser and he is on the board…pardon me but I have not the time to explain more. I merely hope that if I show him that Jean-Pierre has lied about the pregnancy, he will leave her alone, I do not wish to take more drastic measures to ensure Danielle’s reputation.”
Étienne’s eyes widened as he scratched his chin, “I am sorry, but I cannot allow a copy of my notes to circulate around the board in this manner….”
Erik’s eyes grew dark and he turned sharply, getting into the doctor’s face and grabbing him by his shirt collar before he could finish his sentence. “You mean to tell me I shall have to go in there with no concrete proof of her innocence? Do you not understand what is at stake here...?”
“Monsieur….please….what I mean to say is that I cannot give a copy of my files to the board for keeping, but if you wish, I shall go to them and offer my expert testimony, if they so desire…”
Erik stopped cold, his eyes softening and he released Étienne, straightening the man’s coat, “I see. Yes, that would be most acceptable.”
Étienne released a breath while rolling his eyes.
“Forgive me, Doctor. This situation has me…on edge. I assure you I meant no disrespect.”
“Understandable under the circumstances, of course.” He replied as Erik headed again for the door.
“Five o’clock, I shall have the upper floor exit door open for you. The board room is midway down the corridor on the right. My associate, Jules Bernard shall wait for you.”
“I will be there.”
As Erik opened the door, Étienne followed him out to his newly arrived carriage, noting the young man sitting on the top and nodding politely.
“May I ask you something…Erik?” he stopped him with a slight tug on his arm.
Erik turned back to look at him. Normally, he is put off by someone’s physical restraint, even one so mild, but for some reason this time, he didn’t care. “Yes, of course.”
“Where did you run to…after you left Boscherville?”
“I did not run…at least not long. I was kidnapped and held by Gypsies. After a while, well, you see Doctor, this unfortunate disfigurement played into my own hands and I became quite the sideshow magician…eventually, I learned their ways and I remained with them for three years before moving on…” he told him bluntly.
He shook his head, “A young child you were…after you did not return, your mother feared you dead. She cried many a night….”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, “How long did you stay with her after I left?”
“She ended the relationship with me the night you ran away,
refusing to send you…well…” Étienne shrugged but Erik nodded in understanding.
“I had initially told her I would remain a month, but that month dragged into
two. I thought after you were gone,
perhaps she would be willing to rekindle….but no, she was too grief
stricken. I decided then to return to
Erik turned away and stepped into the carriage, his mind taking it all in. She had chosen him over Doctor Bayre, yet he never knew… he’d left before he could discover her true feelings. God, did she truly love him after all, or was it simply too little too late?
“I should like to hear of your adventures sometime, Erik. Perhaps one day, you could pay me another call…” He said.
Erik nodded, his eyes almost glistening now as they locked onto Étienne’s, yet said nothing in reply but, “Five o’clock.” and the carriage pulled away.
-------------------------------------------
It did not take long for Erik to arrive in Le Vezinet, but he was haggard and rushed, becoming more and more anxious to have the meeting begin and end so he could go for Danielle. When he spotted a second carriage out front of his home, he practically flew from his own carriage into the house.
Finally….he was sure it was Jules.
“Monsieur….” Emma greeted him as she came down the stairs.
He nodded, “Emma. Is Jules here?” he asked her.
“Yes, Monsieur, he is waiting for you in the library,” she said and she started to help him remove his cape, but he stopped her.
“No time…we will be leaving out again shortly for the opera house…” then he started out for the library as Emma called out, “…wait….you have guests…”
But he did not hear her.
He threw open the library doors open, ready to rake Jules over the coals for his late return from Rouen but when he looked inside, what he found made him stop dead in his tracks. There, sitting on the couch off to the left of the door was an older man and woman, drinking tea and indulging in Gisèle’s sweet cakes. Sitting across from them in a wingback chair was Jules, who upon seeing Erik’s anxious face almost turned pale. He quickly stood.
“Monsieur…” he said apprehensively. “I know I am late but…”
Erik stopped him and took a deep breath, taking a moment to straighten his jacket and brush his hair back with his hands, “Monsieur Bernard. It seems have guests…”
With a gesture from Jules, Armand Leroy stood up and joined them. Then he said, “Monsieur Renault, I present…Monsieur Leroy…Mademoiselle Danielle’s grandfather.”
The look on Erik’s face was priceless. Even more relief fell off his weary shoulders, so much so that at the very moment, he could almost kiss the man. Eyebrows raised, he shot out his hand quickly, “The name is Erik, Monsieur Leroy, a pleasure, welcome to my home.”
“I am Armand and the pleasure is mine, Erik…please allow me to introduce you to my wife, Sophia…” he gestured to her and she gave him a lovely smile…Danielle’s smile. She had a kind, but fragile demeanor that reminded him very much of his mother’s friend, Mademoiselle Marie Perrault. He momentarily wondered if Madame Leroy was also afraid of spiders, but of course knew it would be inappropriate to ask.
“Madame, welcome. My apologies for not being here to receive you properly, I had business to attend to. I hope your wait has not been long.” He approached, then took her hand and kissed it.
“Thank you, Monsieur…and no, we have only arrived just moments ago and have been enjoying your cooks delicious sweet cakes. And please call me Sophia.”
Armand sat down again next to his wife as Erik went to his desk, unbuttoning his jacket and deciding to remove his cape after all. He draped it over his arm. “I am to assume that your meeting with the Leroy’s was successful then?” he asked Jules.
“Yes, most successful. They are here to meet Danielle. They had been told by Jean-Pierre that she died in childbirth, along with Geneviève.”
Erik nodded, knowing what had been written in the journals.
“Do you know why Jean-Pierre would lie to us?” Armand asked Erik. “Monsieur Bernard told us you might have some answers for us.”
He looked at them sympathetically and said, “It appears from a journal I have acquired of your daughter, pertaining to the last year of her life, Jean-Pierre was rather possessive and jealous.”
“So all the lies he told us was to…”
“Was to keep you apart from your daughter. He was obsessed with Geneviève and did not wish for anyone else to be an influence on her life but himself. It was a rather slow process of isolation, mind you, something that took many years. By the time she discovered just what he had done, she felt powerless to fight it.”
“Our dear Geneviève….if we had only known…” Sophia sighed.
Armand put his arm around her and asked, “And what about Danielle?”
“Geneviève speaks of the jealousy he developed in regards to the relationship that she had with Danielle…the closeness…he had only wanted his wife around, now he was forced to live with and raise a child he never wanted. Of course he appeared to love Danielle for the sake of Geneviève, but truly he thought she was simply in the way.”
“We never knew that about him, he appeared to be a stable man, a good business man…” Armand said.
“Yes, even Danielle thought him to be a good business man,
but essentially, he stole from the shop, padding the books to make it appear
they made very little profit. Yet any
good accountant, like Jules here, could easily see through it. We found the books and it appears that he
took the extra money and squandered it on a drink, gambling debts and a
mistress he saw often in
“Dear God. So, bottom line, she was his meal ticket…”
“Yes, he used her love for him to keep her working night and day so he had money to take and do with as he wanted.”
“This is terrible…I am almost afraid to ask what else might be in this journal.” Sophia said.
“Yes. I am afraid it is not pleasant.” He threw a glance to Jules. Now was not the time to tell them that their daughter had in fact committed suicide.
“Perhaps we could discuss the remainder of the journal another time, right now, Monsieur Erik and I must attend a meeting.” Jules told the Leroy’s as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Erik.
“What is this?”
“It is a copy of their family record, showing that Geneviève Durand was actually a Leroy. There is a birth certificate too. I think it will come in very handy in proving Danielle’s true birthright.”
Erik placed the papers in his pocket and nodded, “Good work. I will fill you in on my information from Doctor Bayre when we are on our way to the meeting.”
“Of course.”
Erik turned to Armand and Sophia, “I do sincerely apologize for coming in and leaving you again so quickly, in truth, I only arrived here to gather my valise and find Monsieur Bernard, this meeting is of the utmost importance and we must not be late.”
“Please, Erik, do not apologize, we understand, Monsieur Bernard explained the significance of today’s meeting. I hope that you are successful.” Sophia told him.
He smiled brightly at her and once again kissed her hand, simply amazed at how much she favored Danielle, especially the eyes and that warm, bright smile. He turned to Armand, “I hope that you will be staying here in my home for a few days at least. I would be honored to have you as my guests.” He told them as he grabbed his valise from his desk and threw his cape around his shoulders.
“Yes, we would love to stay here, thank you for your hospitality.” Armand said.
“As I am going to pick up Danielle this evening, we will be
returning tomorrow morning, until then, my staff will show you the gardens, the
stables and make you more food then you can eat in one lifetime. And I shall arrange for my personal carriage
to remain here at your disposal, so you may take in the sights of
“Thank you.” Both Sophia and Armand said.
“Emma!” Erik called out when he reached the library door.
“Yes, Monsieur.” She answered, running to him. With a nod of goodbye to the Leroy’s, he pulled Emma into the foyer.
“Extend every courtesy to the Leroy’s, give them the Garden
Suite. After my meeting with the board,
I am going straight to
“Yes, of course Monsieur. Do not be concerned, we shall take great care of The Leroy’s, they are most gracious.”
He gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, saying “As always…I know I never have to worry when you are around…” before Jules joined him in the foyer and they walked out of the house together before she could respond.
She couldn’t have anyway, he rendered her speechless.
Chapter Twenty-five:
“Gentlemen…Monsieur Renault would like to address this board before you all take your votes!” Jules said, pounding his fist on the table to get the men’s attentions away from their incessant chatter. Erik stood alone in the back of the conference room, his face stone cold and emotionless after waiting an extra half hour for the meeting to begin as they waited for Monsieur Mancia. Finally when the man could not be located, they voted to proceed without him, much to the chagrin of Richard Dupré.
“Yes, yes!” Monsieur Nicolas Daque added. He remained standing, rather exhausted from the petty trifling that has already ensued in the short meeting. He brushed what passed for his few remaining bunches of graying auburn hair away from his face, “Let us proceed!”
They quickly quieted down and Jules cleared his throat and he said to Daque, “Good….thank you…” before he turned to Erik and gestured for him to approach.
“We do not need to hear anything from him.” Richard spoke up from his location at the very end of the table. “Let us take our vote and remove this man without further delay.”
“What I have to say will be of great interest to you, Dupré.” Erik replied directly to him, his face never changing expression. “I would suggest you sit back, remain silent and listen.”
Dupré went to stand up defensively, but the glares from the other six men in attendance made him rethink his position. He snorted and gave them all a quick nod.
Looking straight at Richard, Erik said, “It appears that it was said here two nights ago that my fiancée, Danielle, was to have had your child eight years ago. I can tell you now that it is an absolute fabrication, told to you by Monsieur Durand.”
The men all looked at Richard, then back at Erik.
“Lies! You will say anything to protect that…” he paused to think of a disparaging word for Danielle, but stopped when he saw Erik’s eyes almost glowing red. “…to protect your fiancée.” He finally spat out.
“For my fiancée, I would track down the truth, good or bad, which is precisely what I have done. I found the Durand’s family physician, Doctor Étienne Bayre.” He has informed me with his most sincere ethical honesty that Danielle could never have been pregnant during the year in question.”
Again, the men looked around, confused, as Richard sat up and rested his elbows on the long, dark table. His eyes narrowed as he considered what he had just heard.
“Do you have tangible proof or just the tale of one physician?” Daque asked.
“He has brought with him his own records from that year. Is there anyone in here willing to challenge the good name of Doctor Bayre?” Jules asked.
There was a brief moment then where the men of the board clamored amongst themselves, discussing the matter. While they did, Erik stood calmly, glancing at Jules and tapping his foot against the wood floor.
When they all quieted down, Daque spoke up, “We all agree that Doctor Bayre is of sound reputation and his testimony will be taken as fact.”
Erik nodded and released his breath as Jules said, “The doctor is here now, ready to answer any questions you may have, surely that will satisfy the board.”
“Then, let us hear what he has to say.”
With a nod, he went to the door, opened it and waved for Doctor Bayre to enter.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Lacie glanced up at the towering opera house as she made her way through the crowded street of Haussman, looking for Erik’s carriage. Soon, she spotted it, parked directly in front of the left side entrance and saw Jacques perched on top as usual.
She know he’d be shocked to see her there, expecting she would be at the estate helping to entertain the Leroy’s, but something was bothering her and she could not let it go any longer. She slowly approached the carriage and looked up at him as he read his paper. With a soft cough, she got his attention.
“Lacie!” he jumped off the carriage so fast his paper flew in all directions. “You are supposed to be home.”
“I know, but I had to see you…to talk to you.” She replied.
He embraced her warmly, a gesture that had become as routine as breathing. He found her icy and shivering. “How did you get here, you are cold!” he began rubbing her hands as he removed his thick coat and laid it over her shoulders.
“I walked from the blacksmiths. Stéphane was bringing a couple of horses in to be shoed and I rode with him.” She sighed at the warmth of the coat and inhaled its scent, Jacques’ scent.
“You will ride home with me then.” He told her as he picked her up in his arms, lifting her onto the carriage to sit beside him. “Now, what is it that you wished to talk to me about?”
She paused as she thought twice about her decision. She could see Jacques study her closely as he climbed on top of the carriage next to her and she knew she had to make a decision. She wanted to know the truth, yet somehow, she didn’t want to know. Could she live with the truth, or simply continue living with the possibility?
“Lacie?” he touched her cheek. “You are really concerned about something, tell me.”
“Yes, I am.” She threw caution to the wind. “Forgive me if it is not my place, but I must know. What happened to Monsieur Mancia?” Her soft voice blurted out quickly. Her shoulders slumped, waiting for Jacques to respond.
The very question threw him off a bit and his eyes widened. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I heard Stéphane speaking to Gisèle this morning. He overheard you speaking privately with Monsieur Erik late last evening, he could not catch all of it, but he apparently heard you say that Monsieur Mancia was properly disposed of.”
“I see…” He silently cursed Stéphane and vowed to get even with the man for his inane eavesdropping. “Love, please do not ask me such things….Monsieur Erik trusts me and…”
“You cannot even answer me if the man is dead?”
“Lacie…”
“It is a simple question…yes…or no…”
“Yes, he is dead.” He replied swiftly, his eyes locking onto hers, sure he would have to calm a growing bout of hysteria.
But she simply nodded.
He crooked his head to the side, “That is all you wanted to know?”
“Yes. I will not pretend I am distressed to hear of his death. I am glad. Honestly, I cannot understand what can possess a man to be so vile. Late at night, alone, sometimes I can feel his hands over my body and I….”
He threw up his hand to silence her. Even the faintest description of what the man had done still made him angry. “Stop. Please, or I shall find where I left him and tear his body apart.”
“I am sorry.”
He took her in his arms and held her tight to him, feeling her heart beating fast. “You are safe now. No one will harm you ever again, or they will have to kill me first.”
Sighing, she looked up at him, “Jacques?”
“Yes?” he caressed her cheek.
“If I asked…” she started.
“Asked what?”
“How he died? If I asked, would you tell me?”
His eyes darted away for a few moments, weighting his decision. “Are you asking?”
A momentary pause, then a faint whisper, “Yes, I am asking.”
She was indeed such a curious little thing. She seemed to trust him enough and he knew he could never lie to her….yet, there were just some things a lady…even a potential wife…need not know.
“I do not know, love…the circumstances, it could be very disturbing…”
She raised her head and locked onto his gaze, “Jacques, I have seen many things. My mother leaving my father for another man when I was twelve and the violent fights that ensured…a neighbor slowly dying….wilting away to nothing and the doctors did not know why, until they found out she had been forced to eat rats because she had no money for food. I witnessed my father’s body being run over by a wheat thresher just last year. He bled to death in my arms before help could arrive. Tell me my love…will this one man’s death be more disturbing than all that I have lived so far?”
His mouth emitted a soft gasp. This was the first time she’d revealed to him, or seemingly anyone else, the harshness she’d seen in her short twenty-one years. “Baby…”
“I’ve gone through enough and thanks to Monsieur Erik, I’ve been given a new life. You see, so I can put it all behind me, and now all I ask for is your honesty. The fact that you might have killed this man on my behalf does not bother me, but I must know, either way.”
That he could not argue with, “Very well…” He nodded and inhaled before beginning, “After Monsieur Erik left with the contract giving him possession of Monsieur Mancia’s shares, I took him down through a secret passageway to the third cellar. There is a room there…it is full of mirrors…Monsieur Erik showed me it several months ago. It is truly the most frightening room I have ever seen. He allowed me the chance to spend a few moments inside…”
“Mirrors…and what did you see?”
“Indescribable, love….illusions…shadows…horrible images. I swore they seemed to come at me from all sides, like they were going to attack me…accompanied with feelings of utter anger and terror. I barely lasted ten minutes before I screamed to be let out. Monsieur Erik said I was one of only two men who had been allowed access to that room and been let out alive. He also said never to stay in the room alone, or I will become trapped, go mad and kill myself. I believe him, nor did I ask how he came up with such a ghastly device.”
“My love…” she shook her head in astonishment, “some things, perhaps are just best left unanswered.”
“Yes, I believe so. Anyway, I remembered it and decided it was the perfect revenge for Mancia. And who knows, this might even by why Monsieur Erik showed it to me in the first place, so that it might be at my disposal whenever the need arose.”
“So you took him there and locked him in this mirrored room?” He nodded and she crossed herself, “Dear God…”
“Yes, he was always such a coward anyway, so it did not take long for his panicked screams to end. He barely lasted ten minutes and when I returned, I found he had strangled himself with his own belt.”
She studied him a moment, allowing it all to sink in, “So, you did not kill him with your own hands…”
“No, he killed himself, love.”
Jacques heard a vocal exhale of relief and she asked him, “Where is his body?”
“Weighted down and sunk in the lake below the opera house, down past the fifth cellar, another place Monsieur Erik showed me. Hard to get to, even harder carrying a significantly overweight man…”
“And the blood on your shirt?”
He gave a soft laugh, “Actually that is mine…I cut my hand as I was cutting the rope to secure him with.
“Oh, Jacques! I heard about all the blood and I just assumed…!” she laughed and shoved him playfully before turning serious again. “So, Monsieur Erik did not instruct you….?”
“No, he only found out later, after Mancia’s death. I only told him what Stéphane told Gisèle, that Mancia was properly disposed of. That is all he knows right now, much safer that way, considering the problems he faces.”
A long pause fell as they simply held each other close, Lacie feeling safer than she had felt in years. She truly understood now, even in her short time under his employ, the loyalty Erik’s servants showed him, for she felt the same.
“You would do anything for Monsieur Erik. We all would.” she finally asked him.
His fingers ran through her long, dark hair like it was water, kissing the top of her head as he thought about the impact of that statement. “Yes…
…and I feel he would do anything for us…”
-----------------------------------------------
“So you see here, Monsieur Dupré, Mademoiselle Durand was not with child when I examined her on the eighth of September.” Doctor Bayre said to a very stunned Richard, showing him the short snippet pertaining to her in his records. “And you can see here that her weight taken at the three examinations remained within five pounds…” he closed his file as Dupré slumped down into his chair.
“Monsieur Dupré, do you conclude that the findings of this doctor are indeed true?” Daque asked him.
“They must be…” he replied softly as his world came crashing down around him. For years….eight years….he thought he had a child somewhere. And while it didn’t cross his mind everyday, it certainly crossed it. It was a devastating blow, and he knew it would be an equal shock for his mother.
Even for all the disturbance and trouble the man had caused them, most everyone in the room suddenly felt a great deal of empathy for Richard Dupré.
All except Erik.
“Then you admit now that the accusations you made publicly two nights ago were indeed false?” He asked him.
Richard merely nodded, his eyes downcast.
“What was that?” He pressed his hands on the table and leaned forward.
“Monsieur Renault, this is not necessary.” Firmin said.
“It is most necessary…” he growled in response to him, then turned back to Richard, “Please repeat your answer.”
Richard’s head shot up and he practically screamed, “Yes!”
A collective release from all the men present could be felt as the thick tension that had built over the course of the short meeting began to lift.
“Well, if you will excuse me a few moments, I shall show Doctor Bayre to the door.” Daque said as he stood up. Everyone nodded politely and thanked Étienne for taking the time and effort to come to the proceedings. When the two men left the room, Erik proceeded, unable to wait for Daque’s return.
“Monsieur Dupré, I expect an apology to be made to her, to restore her name with just as much publicity as you have slandered it, I will have my associate set up a small article in the Époque....”
Again, Richard snorted, “There is still the matter of this so called false marriage….”
“Monsieur Renault himself said he planned on marrying the young woman….” Jules reminded him. “Besides, if I recall correctly, Monsieur, you said at the previous meeting that whether or not he married her was irrelevant.”
“I changed my mind. We must all agree here that a man who represents the opera house should not have a wife that is…well, a commoner…not of at least some high social standard, a nobody….”
“I warned you…” Erik’s face turned red and he started around the table to where Richard sat.
“On the contrary, although it truly should not matter, she is in fact of social status….” Jules said, putting his hand on Erik’s shoulder to keep him calm.
“What do you mean?” Monsieur Fournier, another investor, asked.
“What I mean, gentlemen, is that Danielle Durand is the granddaughter of Armand Leroy.”
“The investor and businessman from
“The same.”
The men were all shocked at the news and another silence fell as they looked at one another, shrugging their shoulders.
“Do you have proof of this?” Richard demanded. “Danielle never told me she a member of the Leroy family, and besides, if that were true, she wouldn’t have been living in that paltry little dress shop.”
Pulling the birth certificate out of pocket, Jules slid it toward Richard. “She never knew…here…it will show that her mother’s maiden name was actually Leroy.”
Richard studied the paper closely before shoving it toward the center of the table for the other men to examine. He said contemptibly, “She is still half Durand.”
“Maybe. But she is the sole heir to the Leroy’s estate. That is what is most significant.”
Monsieur Fornier spoke up, “This is definitely important news. Although we cannot truly control who you marry, Monsieur Renault, this will help quell the many questions that are bound to be asked of this incident. I therefore submit for a vote that there are no grounds to remove Erik Renault as principal investor and majority shareholder…”
“I second the motion!” Monsieur Fournier added.
“Wait!” Richard shouted as Monsieur Daque made his way back into the room. “This is all well and good…but I…” he stumbled for his last ditch effort to stall the decision, “I think we should wait until we find Monsieur Mancia…it is not a fair vote if he is not here to make his opinion known…”
“Well, if you recall, Monsieur Dupré, we voted to proceed without Monsieur Mancia, therefore his opinion cannot be noted in record.” Daque replied when he took his seat.
“No, again, I think we should wait until we find him…”
With a grin, Jules produced Mancia’s contract from his pocket and handed it to Monsieur Daque. “I believe this will take care of Monsieur Mancia’s vote, and can be noted in the record.”
Daque took the contract and read it silently to himself before replying, “My dear God…”
“What?” Richard asked.
“This says that he has chosen to leave the opera house….it is a letter of resignation of his position and a contract, turning over all his shares to Monsieur Renault.”
“That puts him well above…all of us total in shares!” Firmin exclaimed.
“Impossible” Richard reached over the table and grabbed the paper from Daque as the other investors clammed amongst themselves again.
“I assure you, it is legitimate.” Jules said, pointing out the notary seal and two witness signatures.
“How was this obtained, and when?” Monsieur Fournier asked.
“It was obtained yesterday morning, I assume. I was not present.” Erik answered, then turned and walked away from the table, smirking.
“I met with Monsieur Mancia yesterday morning early, he said nothing to me that would indicate he was selling out.” Richard said. He threw the paper toward Daque and sat back in his seat.
“I came to Monsieur Mancia.” Jules lied, “I told him that Monsieur Renault was well aware of the fact that he had helped Monsieur Dupré lure Mademoiselle Danielle to the top of the stairwell, where she was publicly humiliated. I told him Monsieur Renault wished for him to take the honorable way out by resigning….and as you can see here in this letter of resignation…” he tapped the paper with is finger for Daque to see, “he speaks about Monsieur Dupré’s part in all of this…how he had planned on luring Mademoiselle Danielle to his office, blackmail her for information about his child, promising Monsieur Renault would not suffer financially for it, then how he told Monsieur Mancia how he planned on not keeping the promise…forcing him out and buying his shares.”
“Yes. Buy up my shares before, Monsieur Daque…who is afraid of his own shadow…could be able to stop him.” Erik added from the back of the room as he paced, continuing to check his pocket watch.
Monsieur Daque threw a rather irritated stare at Richard as Monsieur Fournier asked him, “Is this true?”
“Taken out of context…yes perhaps…I…” Richard stammered.
“I recall you telling me at your mother’s party, that you
had indeed planned on returning to
“Well, yes I did, but…”
“Yes, I recall the very conversation. You said that if all went well, you would acquire more shares in the near future…” Fournier added. “You even asked me if I would be willing to part with a few of my own…”
“You know you are not allowed to privately barter for anyone’s shares.” Daque said.
“I understand, it was merely business talk…just chewing the fat if you will…”
“Just give us an answer, Monsieur Dupré, is what Monsieur Mancia says true or not?”
“Alright, yes!” he answered loudly, jumping from his chair. “Yes, I planned on blackmailing Danielle Durand for information, and running Renault out of the opera house! But look at him!” He glared at Firmin and Andre, “Did you all just suddenly forget that a year ago, this man almost burned this opera house to the ground? Did you all suddenly forget your reaction at the party when he walked in, trying to be respectable? I saw your faces! You do not want this man here anymore than I do!”
“This is enough!” Daque shouted, standing straight up, “No matter what we might or might not feel about Monsieur Renault, it does not excuse the fact that you tried to obtain his shares by fraud. Therefore, I find that Monsieur Renault will not be removed from his position here, and the decision is final! This meeting is adjourned until one week’s time when we will reconvene to decide what to do in light of this new information.”
“Thank you, gentlemen, now if you will excuse us, Monsieur Renault wishes to be on his way.” Jules nodded to Erik and both men headed for the door.
“You will not keep those shares, Renault!” Richard shouted towards him as the men all stood up, preparing to leave, “And you will not have Danielle!” The words came out so fast he hardly could stop it. Danielle…yes, he did still have feelings for her, strong feelings. How could he have kept them buried for so long?
Erik turned sharply, his face turning stone cold. Dupré, in his opinion, was now an open target, but Jules held him back, speaking calmly. “Now is not the time, Monsieur…think of Mademoiselle…
“Yes, of course…” he growled under his breath, “…let us go, I shall deal with him later. Now, I am going to bring Danielle home where she belongs…”
And without so much as another word, the two men departed, leaving Richard Dupré to call out behind them, “This is not over!”
But they knew it was.
Chapter Twenty-six:
Wringing his hands, Erik’s heart beat faster and fast the
closer he came to Michelle’s house in
With instructions to the driver to return in one hour sharp, Erik approached the house, the only sound in the stillness was the echo of his shoe heels clicking against the stone walkway. He stopped a few feet from the front door, observing no light coming from the front windows. He chose not to knock, but decided instead to try around the back of the house.
When he came around the corner in the small garden, he could see candlelight illuminating on the newly blossomed flowers that lay just below a bottom floor window. He slipped quietly to the pane, pleased to find it open and crouched down to look inside.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw Danielle alone inside a small sitting room, sitting in a chair along the back wall, a book in her lap, seemingly neglected. Surrounding her were several candles, well lit and bright, making her almost glow golden. Her downcast eyes were transfixed on the fireplace, looking at the black soot as the last tiny few embers died down.
Danielle’s mind wondered, recalling the events of the past couple of days, and wondering what the next few held for her. Michelle had fulfilled her promise, speaking to Madame Souvigny earlier in the day about her taking over while she was out with the baby. The woman had wholeheartedly agreed. One obstacle down, she had a job. Tomorrow she would look for a new place to live. It all appeared to be falling into place.
But none of it mattered.
She didn’t want to move on.
She didn’t want to be away from
…or Erik.
Why does my heart
cry…?
Feelings I can’t hide….
You’re free to leave
me, but just don’t deceive me…
And please….believe me
when I say…
I love you…
She began to sing wistfully over and over the same words she had left Erik on the piano…the same song she had heard her mother sing late at night, days before she died. She could not understand why those words compelled her to such an emotional outcry and she felt powerless to stop it. Everything she did, everything she saw reminded her of Erik. Each touch, smell, taste…it was all tightly woven like thin strands of silk, and like her sanity, they were just as delicate.
Erik recognized what she sang immediately when he’d seen those very same words in Geneviève’s journal just the night before. Words, that came from a voice that filled the room with a sickening despair…drifted out the window and surrounded him, forcing his lips to curl into a sneer in an attempt to shake the disturbing sound. It was so obvious she was feeling the same sorrow her mother must have felt. But why? Did she not realize he would come for her?
Finally, he could take no more…he had to stop it.
She studied the book in her lap, but the words on the page just rambled together, blurred. Then as she looked up, her voice still floating throughout the room, she saw it. One of her side candles went out. She stopped singing, eyebrows raised as she knew she had not felt enough breeze coming through the window to extinguish it. Indeed, as her eyes scanned, none of the other candles, nor the gas lit lamps were even flickering.
In a huff, she rose from the chair to cross the room and relight the candle but suddenly, two more candles on another nearby table extinguished with a soft rush of unfelt air. Just as her eyes flew to that, three more candles died out, one after another, followed then by the gas lamps until second by second, she was becoming encased in darkness, except the single candle that sat on the table closest to her chair.
She turned to the small side table and there underneath, seemingly out of nowhere, a piece of paper slowly fluttered down, resting next to the brass candle stick. She sat down, and with narrowed eyes, she picked up the paper and opened it, looking at the one sentence that was written there, in black ink.
Maybe someday…my fair
maiden says…you will sing a song that is just for me…
She read outloud a second time, then stopped, recognizing the words instantly. Her eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to see past the one poorly lit candle.
Then it began…
Never knew I could feel like this
Like I've never seen the sky before
I want to vanish inside your kiss
Every day I Love You more and more
“What is….happening…?” her voice whispered helplessly as the unknown words and beautiful melody seemed to pour in from all around her and instantly she found herself swaying, her eyes closing, just as she had done the day of the grand opening when Erik sang to her.
Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing
Telling me to give you everything
Seasons may change, winter to spring
But I Love You, until the end of time
“Oh, Erik, is that you…?” she whispered almost inaudibly, feeling her body succumbing to the strange, sweet sound. It was almost too good to be true….had he written these words just for her?
But, what if this was not Erik…what if this was just an illusion…a stress induced hallucination meant to trick her into a momentary sense of blissful happiness? She had dozed earlier, she could be merely dreaming ….yes, that’s what this was…it had to be a dream. Just a beautiful, wishful, hope filled dream.
Come what may
Come what may
I will Love You
Until my dying day
Oh, but if it was a dream, it was the most vivid dream
imaginable. She could feel her breasts
ache and swell, her hands immediately touching them as more and more, the now
familiar ache in the pit of her stomach began to rise, causing her to lay back in her chair, almost writhing in an attempt to
reach the edge of the blissful peak. Dear God, help me…
Erik’s breathing increased as his muscles tensed, fists clinching the edges of his cape and twisting methodically as he observed Danielle’s strong reaction to his voice. It spurred him on and made him feel he could sing until the end of time…
And there's no mountain too high
No river too wide
Sing out this song,
I'll be there by your side…
But as all dreams do, this eventually had to end. Danielle forced her eyes open as she suddenly blurted out, “Stop!”
Erik’s mouth gaped, ceasing his song, his body screaming in protest.
A long pause fell as Danielle could only hear the sound of her own heart beating, fast.
“Danielle…please…” Erik’s soft spoken words finally drifted in from the open window, when he knew he could no longer remain silent.
She shook her head, “No, you are not real…you are an illusion…a phantom’s voice out of the darkness meant to fill me with false hope…”
His eyes softened as he gazed upon her. “Yes, I am the Phantom, my heart, but I assure you, I am flesh and blood. Look at your window and you shall see me…”
She turned to the open window as suddenly, every candle and gas lamp was relit, the sudden bright light flooding her eyes. She blinked several times, then gasped when she could see the white mask shining bright from outside the open window and she cried out, “Erik!”
“Please, come to me, my Danielle….”
Quick as a flash she ran for the door next to the window and opened it. He was there in an instant and she threw herself into his waiting arms, almost wailing with joy.
“I have missed you so…” Erik whispered as he inhaled the scent of her hair, his arms holding her as tight as he felt he could without hurting her.
“I thought you did not want to….” She sobbed, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his neck. She clung to him with all the strength she had.
“Come now…” he pulled away just slightly to look at her, wiping away the tears. “did you think I would come to bring you home?”
“When you did not follow me, I assumed…”
Lifting her up effortlessly in his arms, he took her back into the small sitting room where he sat her down softly onto a small couch. He kneeled before her, his fingers caressing her soft, tear soaked cheeks. “Danielle, I was frantic when you ran out of the opera house. I arrived home as soon as I could and it almost destroyed me to find you had left. I searched all over and when I discovered where you had gone, I knew you were safe. As much as it hurt me for us to be apart, I felt it best to let you remain here while I cleared your name…but I was always going to come for you.”
“Erik…” she whispered. “I could not stop thinking about you….I am so sorry for everything…if it was not for me you…”
“I would be lonely…living my life as I had for the past year, without knowing what true love really is….you showed me that, Danielle. How could I possibly let that go, how could I possibly let you go?”
“But your position….?”
“Is secure.”
“And Richard?”
“Now knows you have never been pregnant. Your father has told many lies, that in time, he will be accountable for, as will everyone who has been in our way, my love. So much has happened that you must know, but for now, all that matters is that we return to our home.”
Our home…she loved the sound of that. Leaning forward she fell into his arms once more, “Erik, I love you so much. I never thought anyone would look upon me, much less love me the way that you do. I knew who I was inside, deep down, but no one else saw it. I stayed hidden away. If it had not been for you needing a wife…I would have never found the courage to break away from my self induced prison. You make me so happy, happier than I have been in nine years…”
He looked down and was pleased that she still wore the wedding ring on her finger. “I cannot imagine my life without you now. You gave me such an important gift, you showed me how to give and receive love, something I was sure would never happen. I have thought of you as my wife for nearly two weeks and it has become as natural as my own breathing… I do not wish to stop, ever. Please, Danielle, will you marry me?”
She gasped, “Oh my…” then Erik asked her, “Now, how do you like that for a proposal?”
Laughing, she melted into his embrace, “It was perfect! And yes, I will marry you. I will give you everything I am…”
He kissed her neck, her cheek, her soft lips over and over, “My love…everything I have is yours…say you will never leave me again…promise me…”
“I promise, Erik…”
And with that, their lips met again, as if for the very first time….
-------------------------------------------
Madame Dupré glanced at the ornate grandfather clock in her library as she saw a carriage finally pull up to the house. One thirty. She gasped in shock as she saw Richard stumbling towards the front door with the help of the carriage driver.
She just made it down the stairs, almost tripping over her long dressing gown, when the door flew open and Richard collapsed in the floor of the foyer, his eye rolling back in his head.
“Dear heavens! What happened? Is he injured?” she asked the carriage driver.
The older man with a heavy Irish accent answered amusingly, “Ay, no Ma’am…a bit too much of the ale he had this evening…stumbled out of two drink houses before I found him. Thought it best to bring him home before he did harm to himself…”
She grimaced, staring down at her son, almost passed out and mumbling incoherently. “Umm…” she looked back at the driver, “would you be so kind as to help me get him upstairs to his room?”
He nodded and bent down, pulling Richard to his feet, popping his face several times, “Up and at ‘um now lad…that’s the way…”
“Wha…what is going on?” Richard asked, fighting his way out of alcohol induced haze.
“Just getting you to your feet now, just be a good lad and hold on to me…” The driver answered as he threw one of Richard’s arms over his shoulder to steady him.
Madame Dupré said nothing as she led the way up the stairs.
-----------------------------------------
“Coffee…”
It was well after sunrise before Richard was awake enough to say something that made sense.
Madame Dupré had spent most of a good hour and a half after his return ridding him of his stench filled shirt and bathing his face with cool water, then watching as he passed out for good before taking it upon herself to retire to bed. Now, he sat on the edge of his bed, drinking a strong cup of hot coffee, holding his pounding head in his hands.
“Dear God…how much did I drink?” he asked rhetorically.
“Enough to make you pass out in the foyer.” His mother answered shortly, sleep deprived and rather annoyed. “Honestly, I have not seen you act this way in years, I had thought you near dead.”
“Believe me, Mother. I was.” He groaned, his body aching.
When she scowled, not amused, he looked straight at her and felt suddenly very ashamed of himself, “Forgive me. I know I should not have done this.”
“Then perhaps you should tell me why you did. I had been waiting up for you all night and here it is, after six o’clock in the morning and I still do not know what happened at the board meeting, or for that matter, why you ran off drinking.”
“That damn meeting…” he groaned loudly.
“Yes,” she replied impatiently, “did they remove Monsieur Renault?”
“No.” he snorted. He was not in the mood to discuss anything to do with Erik Renault. “And quite frankly, at this point, I do not care to hear his name again anytime soon.”
She studied him closely, sensing more had happened, but dared not ask, at least not at that time.
“Well, did you at least find out about the child?”
“There is no child.”
She slumped down into the chair by the door, “So, the child did die after all.”
“No, Mother. There was never a child. Danielle had never been pregnant. Jean-Pierre made it all up.”
“What? Why? I mean, how did you…?”
“Renault brought in Danielle’s doctor, Étienne Bayre. He showed us the records eight years ago. Danielle was never noted as being pregnant in the three times she went to him during that time.” He told her despondently.
“God…why…why would Jean-Pierre lie to you?”
“My guess is he did not wish for Danielle and I to be married, his reasons for that, I am sure were rather similar to yours, he disapproved of me just as much as you disapproved of her.” He stood and walked around the room, shaking his head.
She chose to ignore that Jean-Pierre would even think of disapproving of her son. “Well, Richard…you know the truth now and perhaps its all for the best. You can return to your own wife and children and forget all about this ugly incident. At least you do not have to have any ties with her.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” He looked out the window and watched the morning breeze blow across the tall grass near the stables below.
“Richard? Does this not make you happy now?”
He shrugged and she approached, touching his arm. It was all beginning to make sense. “Dear God, Richard. This is what this was about all along, was it not? Danielle. It was not about the child, it was about her?”
“Oh, Mother, please, do not….” But he knew she was right.
How could she have been so blind? “It is. For years, you thought you had a child out there, yet you never did anything about it, until you saw Danielle here at the party. Then all of a sudden, you wish to find the child? Saying you had regrets? No, you still love her…that is your regret. You are fooling yourself if you believe otherwise. After all these years apart, you still wish you had married her. The fact that she rejected you, tried to say you were mistaken about her identity…it just made you angry….angry enough to want to destroy her and possibly her marriage to Monsieur Renault. It is jealousy…pure and simple. Tell me I am wrong.”
“No, Mother, you are not wrong.” He said with a defeated tone. Maybe, he had just truly come to the conclusion himself. He saw Danielle at the party, seemingly happy, lovely in her fancy gown, the obvious affluence…the wealth he should be lavished on her, not Erik Renault. What she saw in an arsonist, murderer…a sheer raging animal, he would surely never reconcile.
“Forget her son, go home to your wife and children. That is where you belong. Forget the opera house, forget Danielle, forget Paris.” She urged, but she knew it would not be so simple. She could see his face change as he turned towards her, his brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed and darkened. No, he had unfinished business.
“Not yet, Mother. I still have to call upon someone.” He told her in a deeper toned voice.
She strongly urged him with a grip on his arm, “Please, no son, leave Monsieur Renault alone, it is over….”
“Oh no, it is not Renault I plan to visit, Mother, it is Jean-Pierre.”
-------------------------------------------------
“My God, Erik, I had no idea…” Danielle said sadly as she
started reading the first few pages of her mother’s journal on the carriage
ride home from the little inn just outside of
Or as much as he thought she could handle.
It had been a tearful, but joyous goodbye at Michelle’s after Danielle awakened her to gather her belongings. The carriage took them on to the inn and they arrived in their room during the early hours of the morning. Tired, emotionally and physically, they did not even make love, opting just to hold one another and get a few hours sleep before leaving just after a pleasant sunrise breakfast. Erik did not mind, even if his body did complain, he knew he would make love to her again very soon.
“…that Father told my grandparents we had died…it is unfathomable. I know their marriage was not perfect, but they appeared relatively happy…”
“I believe they were, for a time, until his gradual isolation and jealousy took over, then of course the discovery of his lies.”
“But for Mother to kill herself…over something that could just so easily be resolved by finding my grandparents? I do not understand it. Why could she not just come to me with this? Why did she not trust me?” she looked up at Erik, who could do nothing but shrug.
“I do not feel it was an issue of trust, my love. Your mother loved you so much. She spared you all this heartache, keeping it all inside because she knew how much you loved your father, but in the end, I believe perhaps she was just too weak to handle the lies and unhappiness.” He said.
“So she took her own life, thinking he would take care of me.”
“Yes.”
“But he hates me, and perhaps he always did….”
“Possibly…”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Why does he not love me?”
He leaned forward and took her hand in his, “I am sorry, I wish I knew the answer to that. The reasons lie deep inside and may not ever be unlocked. Believe me, I know what it is like to feel the rejection of a parent who never loved you. But…you were lucky…your mother did love you, you have that much…”
“Yes, there is that.” She wiped the tears from her face and gave him a deep, heartfelt smile. Erik had told her about the passage her mother had left for her at the back of the journal, but she knew at this point, she would not have the strength to read it. In time, she would, but now, she had to think of the future, “And my grandparents? They never knew I existed…they must have been so lonely.”
“Yes, but they know you are alive now and they are excited about meeting you.”
“As I am. But…”
“Yes?”
“I am also excited about going home…seeing Emma, Lacie…eating sweetcakes…and of course…” she smiled, “…being with you.”
He laughed and pulled her to his lap, wrapping his cape around her and stroking her hair as he did so and together, they could see the house as they started into the gate.
Chapter Twenty-seven:
The door of the library was just barely ajar as Erik peered inside, his eyes searching for Danielle. It was after three o’clock in the morning and he hated feeling the other side of his bed empty. He saw her standing by the window, looking out at the rain that fell softly and pelted the glass window, followed by intermittent echo of soft rolling thunder. A single candle by his desk was lit, just enough to encase her in a soft glow, her silhouette obvious through the thin dressing gown she wore. She was intoxicating to view this way and again, his desire for her rose quickly.
It had been three days since their return home. She had barely gotten away from Emma and Lacie’s welcoming, tearful hugs just long enough to find her grandparents on the veranda where she ran into their loving arms as if they had known each other all along. Through tears of joy, they viewed each other for the first time, hardly even speaking, simply embracing. In the Leroy’s, Danielle saw her past, a final connection to true family. In Danielle, the Leroy’s saw their daughter in every way, from her smile, to her laughter and yes, ever her tears. Erik was satisfied that all was well enough to let them alone to get acquainted and he reluctantly departed to meet with Jules and begin preparations for their small wedding in Boscherville.
Later in the evening, they had all met in the dining room where they enjoyed a pleasant dinner and light conversation pertaining to the weather, the places they had traveled and even Erik took to showing the Leroy’s a bit of his simpler feats of magic, delighting in their simple but enthusiastic applause. But deep inside, all Erik wanted to do was take Danielle to his room, lock her away and make love to her endlessly.
And once the Leroy’s retired to their room, strategically placed on the opposite end of the house, he did just that.
If it was at all possible that their passion for one another could grow, it did when they finally made love again after what to them was a long, insufferable absence. He could barely contain the fire inside as he buried himself deep within her, listening to her gasps, her whimpers of pure pleasure, feeling her arms wrap around his waist, her nails digging into his skin. It was bliss. He lost count as to how many times he loved her that night, nor did he care, all he knew was that neither of them slept until they saw the sun.
“Could you not sleep?” he asked her as he approached, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her place her hands over his.
“I suppose not.” She sighed, her head falling back and resting against his chest. She had not been able to rest since the Leroy’s had left earlier in the day. Although she knew she would see them again and often, she already missed them. They had bonded like…well…family over the couple of days that had stayed. Three days. Three very short days. “I just enjoyed Grandma and Grandpa’s visit, I wish they did not have to leave.”
“Of course, but you heard your Grandfather. He is a successful businessman and he had to return to attend that business, but do not worry, you will see them again, love.” He assured her.
“I know.”
He waited, feeling that the Leroy’s were not the only thing on her mind.
“Erik?” she began, “What did you do with Mother’s journal after we came home?”
He was right.
“In the bookcase.” He answered her.
“I wish to view it now. I believe I am ready to read the passage she left for me.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, tugging her shoulders to turn her so she faced him. He wanted to see her eyes.
But her eyes were indeed sincere. “Yes, I must. My grandparents took the news of Mother’s suicide better than any of us expected. They are very strong and are able to handle the truth now on their own. I must do the same for myself.”
Without another word, Erik walked to the bookcase, reached behind several books and pulled out the leather bound journal, then he walked over to the chair by the window and laid the book down on the table next to it. When she sat down and picked up the book, Erik began to silently walk out of the library.
“Wait!” she called behind him. “Are you leaving?”
He turned back to her, “I assumed you would wish to view it in private.”
“No, would you please stay? I need you…” He came back to her and sat down on the ottoman directly in front of the chair, elbows resting on his knees. With a smile to him and an inhale to gather her bravery, she watched as Erik showed her where the passage was. The paper was folded inward halfway.
“And you have not read this?”
He shook his head.
She unfolded the paper and read the words silently to herself a few moments before her brows furrowed. “What the…?”
“What is it?”
Instead of answering, she simply read the passage again out loud, this time slowly…
My Dearest Danielle…By
now you must know that I have ended my life.
As I instructed Jean-Pierre to do, he has turned my journal over to you
for safe keeping…”
She stopped abruptly, “Wait, Father was supposed to turn this over to me? You said it was found in a niche deep inside her wardrobe…”
Erik could only shrug, “Yes, it was. It’s apparent now that he did actually know it was there, but did not want for you to have it.”
Shaking her head, she continued…
…I hope that, by
reading what is contained in these pages, you will grow to understand the
motives behind this decision. But, my darling, the reasons contained here are
not the only ones. I wish for you to
know the truth now and putting it in this journal would simply not do. The secret lies within…in the only item we
both held sacred…that we both dearly loved.
“More reasons…?” Danielle murmured. “So Mother did not take her life just because she found out that Father had lied to my grandparents?”
“Apparently not.” Erik’s eyes widened. This was truly something that even he did not see coming. “The secret lies within…” He repeated, trying to make sense of it all.
“I do not understand. Why would she do this? How am I supposed to know what we both dearly loved, I mean I…” she almost began to panic. She just wanted answers, not more riddles.
“Easy now…think, love. What was the one item that the two of you both loved?”
“We loved many things, Erik… planting flowers…sewing…reading books…baking bread…”
“It would not be likely inside a flower garden…” He began.
“…and if it were in our sewing kit, I would have seen it by now.” She added.
“Yes, that leaves books and recipes.”
“Recipes…I believe Evelyne took many of Mother’s old recipes. I did not have a use for many of them.”
“What about books?”
“We loved many books…I told you before how she used to read to me….oh!” her eyes widened. “The poetry book, Erik! We both loved the poetry book. She knew I went hardly anywhere without it.”
“But did you have it with you when you went to
She stopped and thought hard, then exclaimed, “No! I did not. I recall looking for it, but not finding it. I had asked Mother and she said she wished to borrow it, so of course I let her. Oh, Erik that must be it, the poetry book!”
“Where is that book now?”
“In the items I had taken with me to
He ran to the shelf and retrieved the book, bringing it to her and watched in anticipation as she thumbed through the pages impatiently, looking for anything….a highlighted passage, a hand scribbled note on the yellowed paper. But nothing was there. Her heart sank.
“Nothing.” She sighed. “I have read this book several times since her death, if she had left me something inside, I would have seen it. I was still hoping…but maybe I was wrong after all.”
“Do not be so sure, love...” He took the book from her and took time to thoroughly examine the outer cover, noticing a small separation between the backing and hard leather. “…things are not always as they appear to be…” He pulled the backing away and when he did, a small piece of paper could be seen neatly tucked inside. Danielle’s green eyes flickered as she gasped in surprise. He removed it and handed it to her.
“This is it…” Her fingers shook, yet it had been invisible to Erik until the moment she held the paper.
He gently laid his hand upon hers. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I have to. The secret my mother wanted me to know is in this paper and it will always be here, whether I have the courage to read it or not, it is not going away. I must face this.” She told him firmly.
Erik gave her a nod as she took a deep breath and opened the paper.
She no more than read what Erik surmised to be the first line when he saw her drop the paper to the floor and turn pale, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God…”
“Danielle?” he asked, bending over to pick up the paper. Her eyes were suddenly a million miles away. He took it upon himself to look at the paper himself and read the first line of Geneviève Durand’s words silently to himself….
Jean-Pierre Durand is
not your father…
The words practically echoed in the large, open aired room. The man she had loved all her life, the man she had slaved for to keep up the business, the man she cooked for, cleaned for…the man who had cheated her out of money, lied to her, berated her and beat her...
“He is not my father? I…”
“Oh, love…” he said, touching her cheek to turn her gaze back to him. “Surely she explains further, can you read more?”
She sat back into the chair, her head resting against the back, “Could you read it for me?”
“Anything you wish.”
She gave him a simple, unpretentious smile and clearing his throat, he began…
Yes, Jean-Pierre
Durand is not your father, my beloved.
Yet, before you judge me too harshly, allow me to tell you about your
real father and the circumstances which prevented us from being together. It is rather simple, dearest, no dramatics,
none of our favorite happily ever after’s I used to
read to you in your storybooks.
I met the name that
would be your father the summer before you were born, here in
We were introduced at
a party at the home of Monsieur Cavanaugh, a close friend and business
associate of my father’s. His name was
Nicolas Daque….
Erik stopped reading out loud, but re-read the previous sentence twice silently before it sunk in.
Monsieur Nicolas
Daque…incredible…
“Erik? What is wrong? Do you know this man?” Danielle asked anxiously.
“Yes, my love. He is on the board of the opera house, he stood up for me on more than one occasion.”
“My…” she shook her head. “I have heard of him, he was at Madame Dupré’s party, yet we never were formally introduced, but…oh, Erik…”
He held onto her hand sympathetically, “Should I continue?”
“Yes, please.”
He nodded and continued…
He was a strikingly
handsome man with the thickest head of dark red hair I had ever seen. He had a
kindness, compassion and zeal for life that was intriguing and our relationship
began rather innocently enough. Not that
I did not wish for it to be otherwise, but complications arose. You see, my dear, he was married…
Erik paused and looked at Danielle, who was simply shaking her head. “Mother…”
…and anything other
than the friendship we developed over the course of the first two weeks was
rather impossible. Yet, it
happened. We fell in love. I could see it in his eyes the moment it
happened and I am sure he could see it in mine.
We expressed that love and I gave him my virginity. I did wish for the fairy tale as you know how
I always wish for that, but knew it would never come true. I believe deep
inside he was torn, he loved me but he also cared for his wife and the young
son they had at the time. His marriage
was not one filled with love, but he
still spoke of her being a fine woman and he was such a man of moral character and obligation,
Danielle, I knew he would never leave her to be with me. By the end of the two months we had stayed in
Erik looked at Danielle as tears fell down her cheeks. She remained silent.
I returned to
Jean-Pierre, knowing he would be the man I married, whether I learned to love
him or not and he would be the one to raise the child I already carried…you, my
darling baby girl. I chose to give
myself to Jean-Pierre the first night of our arrival home, knowing when the
pregnancy would be discovered, I could convince him you were his and you were
simply premature.
And yes, to this very
day, Nicolas Daque, the man I have never stopped loving, even after all these
years, does not know I gave birth to his child.
Danielle, I love you
more than anything. I know how much you
love me and Jean-Pierre. But his jealousy,
lies and isolation have smothered me. I
can no longer breathe. Please try and
understand the reason I am doing this. I
have told Jean-Pierre everything in his own letter and now I have told
you. I know that he loves you and he
will take very good care of you.
And so, with a light
heart and a lifetime full of memories, good and bad, I bid goodbye to you, my
beautiful and cherished Danielle. Live life to the fullest, do not take anything for granted, and
by all means…I beg you…do not deny yourself true love.
Love from your Mother,
Geneviève
Erik folded up the paper and handed it to Danielle, watching as she replaced the paper inside the book. She closed it and pressed it to her heart and he waited patiently for a few moments to allow her time to absorb everything.
“So that is it. She ended her life because she could not handle my fa…uh, Jean-Pierre’s lies, nor could she live with her own.”
“It simply sounds like that your Mother was a very confused, unhappy woman. All she was sure of was she loved you.”
“Yes. And it is because of that, that I know I can grow to forgive her. I must. How can I possibly blame her for falling in love and giving herself to a man she had known for two weeks…after all…I did the very same thing.” She looked up into Erik’s eyes. “She must have seen in Nicolas Daque what I see in you.”
Erik rose from the ottoman and took Danielle into his arms, turning around and settling back into the chair, with her on his lap. He felt her rest her head on his shoulder.
“It makes sense now though, if you think about it…about Jean-Pierre.” She continued softly as Erik ran his fingers softly up and down her arm, “Mother told him the truth, so in a sense, he had lost her and grew to resent me because I was not his child. I am sure he found out about Monsieur Daque. I can almost imagine how threatened he felt when found I was the daughter of such an affluent man…that drove the hatred for me…”
“And he probably kept you away from Richard not because he disapproved of him, but because he knew the Dupré’s were in the same social circle as Monsieur Daque, and he feared you would run into him, perhaps talk and he could put two and two together.” Erik added.
“Yes, that is very possible…”
“What will you do about him now?”
“I do not know…but I do know that I am not going to think of him until after our wedding. Too much stress right now. Once we are back from Boscherville, I can sit down and perhaps gain more answers from him.”
“A sensible decision. And Monsieur Daque? I know where to find him. Perhaps you should…”
“I am not going to contact Monsieur Daque. Ever.”
“You’re not?”
“Why should I? What about his wife, his children? He could quite possibly a grandfather now. Why interrupt his life and cause turmoil for my sake? No. I know the truth and it is enough for me. All I wish to do now is move on to the future, my future. No more living in isolation and fear, no more needle pricks on my fingers, no more late night sweating in a hot backroom sewing gaudy gowns for pompous, unappreciative women, no more…”
Erik held her even tighter, if that was possible, “You, Danielle Durand, are the bravest woman I have ever known…”
“No, love. I am no longer a Durand, I never was.” She held up her hand to show him the wedding ring on her finger, “Papers or no papers, priest or no priest, I am Danielle Renault…now and forever.”
And to Erik, it was the best words he could have ever heard.
Epilogue:
Small article in the
Époque:
It is with the most
apologetic nature that I write in clearing the name of Madame Danielle Renault,
the wife of the Opera’s principal investor, Erik Renault. The accusations that came from me the night
of the Opera’s Grand Opening were unfounded and uncalled for, causing her much
pain and humiliation, on what was to be a night of celebration, not personal
vendetta. She did not deserve to be
defamed publicly in this manner and I hope that this aids in clearing her good
name. Madame Danielle Renault is a fine
lady of good upstanding character and I extend my deepest apologies to her.
Monsieur Richard Dupré
----------------------------------------
The Night of the Inauguration and Opening of Le Prophète
Erik and Danielle Renault could not help but laugh as they walked out of the opera house arm in arm as an eager throng of well-wishers surrounded them, demanding to shake the hand of the man who had made the night possible. Even the other investors, including Firmin and Andre, had to admit that it had all gone well.
A month had gone by rather quickly. A month since Danielle had put the past
behind her and looked forward to her future as Madame Renault. Their wedding in Boscherville, two weeks
after her return from
Things, however, changed rapidly….
Upon returning to
Jean-Pierre was nowhere to be found.
When Erik, Danielle and Jules arrived at the shop, Jules assured Erik that his men did not do the damage they were seeing now. Broken mannequins, ripped gowns and broken furniture lay all over the shop. The apartment upstairs faired no better. The windows were shattered, yet the thick drapery disguised them from the outside. It appeared that no one had been inside the shop or apartment in quite some time, although from the outside, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
A week later, the body of Jean-Pierre Durand was discovered in the cellar of the shop’s building, buried under a old pile of construction supplies. It was determined he had been dead around ten days. Danielle, who had chosen to keep away from Jean-Pierre, but was still listed as his only next of kin, quietly buried him, away from her Mother. He had tried to fully possess Geneviève in life, she’d be damned if she would allow him to possess her in death.
No one was charged with vandalizing the shop and the manner of Jean-Pierre’s death remains a mystery.
But Danielle was determined not to let the shop suffer the same fate. With papers in hand and enough money to restore it, she officially turned over Durand’s Dress Makers to Evelyne. With Nathalie by her side, Evelyne is expected to reopen the shop within the next month.
“Well…” Monsieur Firmin shook Erik’s hand firmly, “…despite the extra couple of weeks delay to allow the Vicomtess to improve her voice, I would say that this night has gone off without a hitch, do you not agree?”
“Yes, a grand night, indeed.” Erik nodded, holding tight around Danielle’s waist. He hated public spectacles and simply wanted to go home and celebrate in private with his wife.
The queue will be around the block tomorrow, just you see.” He said, patting his shoulder before moving on to chat with Monsieur Fournier.
Erik just shook his head as Danielle laughed and said, “An easily excitable man he is.”
“Yes, that he is, believe
“I agree.” She replied.
“Monsieur Renault…” a man touched his shoulder as he passed. Both of them turned around and came face to face with Monsieur Nicolas Daque. Danielle inwardly cringed and could feel Erik’s hand move from her arm to her hand, gripping tightly.
“Monsieur Daque.”
“A fine night, would you both not agree?”
Both nodded politely then Erik said, “I do not believe you have formally met my wife.”
“No, I did not get the pleasure of making her acquaintance at Madame Dupré’s party, a pleasure, Madame.” Daque bowed slightly as he took her hand and kissed it.
She immediately noticed that they both had the same eyes. At least she knew now where she inherited them. “Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Daque.”
“I hope you and your wife enjoyed the evening as well.” Erik said.
“Just me, I am afraid. I have been a widower now for five years, but my eldest son and daughter in law accompanied me here tonight, they enjoyed the opera.” He replied.
“I am pleased to hear that.”
“And I am pleased to hear of your wedding, Madame.” Daque
said to Danielle. “The article in the Époque vindicating you was well written,
albeit a bit short in length for my taste.
We were not sure if Monsieur Dupré would follow through with that. I was told he has left
“Yes, he returned to his home after the board’s decision to
remove him…” Erik answered for her with no emotion. He had to fight hard for them, but he
obtained all of Richard’s measly shares.
It was the best revenge he could do short of physical violence, although
that has never left his mind. He almost
hoped that Dupré would return to
Daque nodded, then turned back to Danielle, “I understand you are a Leroy…any relation to Monsieur Armand Leroy?” he asked, making polite conversation of course, but it made Danielle stiffen. She looked at Erik and saw him nod. She inhaled and decided to let whatever happened happen.
“I was of the understanding you knew that. Erik says you were at the board meeting last month…”
“I was, but was out of the room when the issue of your family was discussed, I only found out later from Monsieur Fournier that you were a Leroy.”
“Oh, I see. Well, yes, Armand Leroy is my grandfather.”
She was not surprised when Daque’s eyes widened. “Then you must be Geneviève’s daughter.”
With a soft smile, she nodded, “Yes.”
“Well…this is indeed an honor. I knew your mother well many years ago. A beautiful young woman she was. Unfortunately we lost touch…is she here in
“No, Monsieur, unfortunately my mother passed away nine years ago.”
His eyes turned dark and disheartened. “Oh, I am sorry to hear it. How, may I ask?”
“A ruptured appendix.” Danielle answered and Erik smiled knowingly. She was not going to burden the man with anything more than he needed to know.
Daque kissed her hand again, “How unfortunate, you see, well, your mother and I…oh, it is of no consequence now,” he dismissively waved his hand and continued, “but I see that her smile and lighthearted nature lives on in you, Madame. I hope that I have the pleasure of seeing you again sometime.” He said sadly, but putting on a brave front.
She replied simply, “Thank you, Monsieur,” knowing he simply needed to get away and let it sink in. It was so obvious that he still loved her mother and it seemed, for a brief moment, the idea that they might see one another again made his heart lighter.
Truly a shame that sometimes… fairy tales don’t always come true.
With a nod to Erik, Monsieur Daque turned and walked away, quickly disappearing into the busy crowd. Only then did Danielle relax.
“You are one classy lady, my love…” Erik whispered in her ear.
She looked up at him sadly, “But it hurt. You have no idea close I came to telling him. Did you see his eyes? He had hoped that Mother was still alive.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Can we leave now?” she gathered herself and smiled.
He made no reply, simply started to pull her through the crowd again. They made it only a few feet from the carriage when they heard another voice call Erik’s name.
It was Christine deChagny.
Danielle groaned. She had not seen the Vicomtess since the night she kissed Erik, and in her opinion, it was far too soon.
“Forget her, Jacques is waiting.” Erik said sharply.
“Erik!” she called again, breathlessly catching up to them just as they reached the carriage.
“Vicomtess, we were just leaving, if you will excuse…” Erik began.
“I apologize, I just wanted to
speak with you a moment…to say that Raoul and I will be leaving
“I see.” He replied with a rather impatient tone, stepping one foot into the carriage. “Have a safe journey.”
“Wait…uh…I just…I wanted to know…” she looked at Danielle as if she wanted her to excuse herself.
But Danielle was not going to move, not one inch.
“Yes, Christine?” he asked.
Her eyes were bright and hopeful, “Was I good tonight?”
Erik stopped cold, hardly believing what he heard. She was still such a child, begging for just an ounce of praise and attention. “You do not need my approval…”
“I do. Everyone is asking if I will sing again. I don’t know if I will, not until I know my voice is strong enough…I will always need your opinion, please tell me…”
He had hardly noticed her performance that night, his eyes, as well as his hands…his lips, were all on Danielle. The majority of the opera they were not even in their box.
“Yes, Christine, you did well. Monsieur René is a fine instructor; you should keep him if you decide to continue singing.” He lied and he could see Danielle turn her head to hide the smirk.
Despite that, Christine seemed appeased. “Thank you, Erik.”
He got into the carriage and held to Danielle to help her in, but Christine stopped her.
“Can I speak with you?” she asked her.
Danielle threw a glance to Erik and he let go of her hand. The two women stepped back from the carriage and away from him.
“What is it, Vicomtess, I really have no time for…” she began.
“I found out that you and Erik were not actually married when the two of you went to Madame Dupré’s party.” Christine interrupted bluntly.
“But we are now.” Danielle shrugged. What possible matter could it make after more than a month?
“Yes, I know. But he was not married when he kissed me, so you see, we did nothing wrong.”
“I might not have been married to Erik then, but you were married. Did you forget that so quickly?”
“No, of course not, it is different, I…”
“What is your point, Vicomtess?”
“My point is…Erik and I kissed, and perhaps more might have happened, in time…he loved me then, we have something special, more special than anything Raoul and I have even now. He is my angel of music, he gave me my voice.
She smirked, “You had something, but not anymore. And yes, you had the nerve to kiss him and truly for that, I should leave my handprint across your face, but in reality, Christine, whose name did he call? Mine. Not yours. So please, do not try to fool yourself into believing Erik is still the same man you knew. He is not. You see…we both needed to break away from unhealthy people who only wished to keep us isolated and dependant…me from Jean-Pierre Durand, and Erik…from you. Now, if you will excuse me, my husband is waiting…”
Then she turned back towards the carriage as Christine followed and told her firmly, “I will always love him… that will never change!”
Danielle stopped and touched Christine’s arm with sincere sympathy and replied, “How sad for you.”
And with that, she got into the carriage next to her husband and felt warm and safe as he wrapped his arms around her. Yes, some fairy tales may not always come true, but hers did. And she knew that would have made her mother very happy.
End.