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Emptiness	By : Josephine1881 Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 8257 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s note: I’m not meaning to fall into the trap of repeating myself, but I do have to say that, again, it’s been a long time. Life is stressful, but all the same, I want to continue my tale. This chapter is dedicated to Sweet-Hearted SilverEars on FFN, who reminded me that even after all this time, there are people out there other than myself who want to know where this story is going. Well, shall we have a look? Yours truly, Jenny Wren
Chapter Forty-Six
Words failed me. I was never very good at coming up with a witty response at the best of times, and that was clearly not the best of times. I gazed at Philippe, wondering what on earth he was doing here.
Had he somehow sensed what was happening and hurried to join us? I had sometimes read about such events taking place in books. Yet even as the thought entered my mind, I dismissed it. Philippe didn’t even know (or indeed care) what I was feeling when we were in the same room together, let alone when I was miles away. No, it could only be a coincidence.
“Tell Philippe what?” my brother repeated. He was smiling, but there was a suspicious gleam in his eyes that put me in mind of our childhood. He had so delighted in telling on me for every transgression he’d come across. “What are the three of you plotting?” he added.
The three of us?
His words made me realise that instead of worrying what he was doing there, I should have worried about something else altogether. Had he seen Erik?
But there was no Erik to be seen, as a quick glance sideways confirmed. Once again, Erik had succeeded in disappearing, probably as soon as he saw the entrance door opening, which my sisters and I, caught in conversation and emotion, had overlooked.
“Tell you that... that...” I stammered, my mind completely blank.
“...that we’ve started making plans for your birthday!” Clarille suddenly piped up.
I shot her a quick look of admiration. It was true that it would be our brother’s birthday in a few weeks’ time, but I’d have never thought of taking it as an excuse. What a clever sister I had!
At once, every trace of suspicion vanished from Philippe’s face. His brow was smooth, and his smile finally reached his eyes.
“I see,” he said. “Well, in that case, I haven’t heard or seen anything, of course.” He gave us a big wink.
It suddenly occurred to me how fortunate it was that Philippe had never planned a career as an actor. The performance he was just putting on was simply terrible. I stifled a chuckle. Just because my brother was in a good mood now didn’t mean that he couldn’t lash out in the next moment. He hated the feeling that anyone was making fun of him.
“Well, what brings you here?” Sophie asked, coming forward to meet Philippe. “Has anything happened?”
I could understand the reasoning behind her question. Sophie lived miles away from Paris. As far as I could recall, my brother, who always talked about how busy he was, had never come all the way out there unannounced before.
“As a matter of fact, something has indeed happened,” he replied, nodding gravely. “Shall we go and sit down?”
The last thing I wanted was to get involved in a long and probably tedious conversation with Philippe, and from the look on Clarille’s face, she shared my opinion. But there was nothing we could do. We had to follow Sophie and Philippe back to the library, had to sit down at the table we had vacated mere minutes ago. I made a point in taking the seat that Erik had been resting in before. I’d have hated for my brother to sit there.
“Four cups and saucers?” Philippe commented, looking down at the table. “Have you had another visitor?”
“Yes,” Clarille replied smoothly. “Mme. Gadois joined us for a cup of tea. She left only a few minutes before you came.”
I smiled, glad that again, Clarille had come up with such a credible story. Mme. Gadois was a kind elderly lady who lived right next door to Sophie. I knew that she came over for a cup of tea at least once a week.
From the blank look on Philippe’s face, I could tell that he had no idea who Mme. Gadois was, even though I knew for a fact that he had met her on several occasions. His memory was only good when it came to pretty young women. Anyone else wasn’t of much concern to him. Then again, his desire to appear knowledgeable didn’t allow him to ask who she was. That would have been akin to admitting a weakness and therefore strictly forbidden.
“Ah, Mme. Gadois,” he muttered, nodding. “I see... I see.”
“Let me ring for the maid to get you a fresh cup and saucer,” Sophie remarked, doing so even as she spoke.
Out of habit, we fell silent while the maid entered the room, removed the cup and saucer that Sophie handed her and replaced them with new ones from the cupboard, then fetched more tea and biscuits from the kitchen. My sisters and I still didn’t know what Philippe wanted to discuss with us, and I personally didn’t believe it could be anything to be secretive about, but we had all been brought up with the rule never to talk about private matters in front of servants.
“So, what brings you here?” I asked, as soon as the door closed behind the maid. I wasn’t all that interested, but the sooner my brother said what he had come to say, the sooner I could leave and join Erik. I wondered whether he’d go back to Paris on his own or wait for me.
“Well, my reason for coming here is exactly the same as yours, little brother,” he replied, beaming.
I felt the irrational urge to burst into laughter. I highly doubted that Philippe had come here to reveal his relationship with a man. Then I realised that he had to be referring to our supposed birthday plans.
“You want to discuss your birthday?” I commented, sharing a glance with Clarille, who smiled and bit her lip. She’d obviously been entertaining the same momentary thought.
“Indeed,” Philippe said. “Let me tell you that I am touched that you’ve already started making plans. I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble.”
“Oh no,” I replied, determined not to catch Clarille’s eye this time, or I’d surely burst into laughter. “Do not worry about us. Why do you ask?”
“As it happens,” he started importantly, looking around to see whether we were all paying attention to him. “I have already decided on the perfect way to celebrate my birthday: We will have a masked ball!”
At his words, a tidal wave of memories swept me off my feet, carrying me far, far away from the table and the conversation. Christine and I as white and black domino... she had looked so beautiful in her costume... if I had known back then how little time she had left... if only we had made more of it, gone away where no one knew us... perhaps she wouldn’t have grown ill... God, Christine...
“Christine...” The word spilled from my lips before I could make a conscious decision whether to utter it, scalding my lips far worse than boiling tea.
I was shaking, dimly aware of Clarille getting to her feet and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“Don’t you think it is a little... insensitive a choice?” I heard Sophie ask, as though from far away. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I wanted to hear Philippe’s answer, see the expression on his face.
For a moment or two, he simply looked uncomprehending, just like he had done at the mention of Sophie’s neighbour earlier. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Had he truly forgotten everything about Christine already? Then his brow cleared.
“Ah...,” he made, in what he obviously thought was a warm, concerned voice. “I see. I understand. I truly do.”
If I hadn’t felt so bad, it would have been amusing to see Philippe so flustered. It was not something I was accustomed to seeing.
My brother reached over and patted my arm awkwardly for a few moments. Then he seemed to decide that he had shown enough sympathy, for he gave me a broad smile.
“Raoul,” he said. “Of course I understand how this idea might provoke... unpleasant memories for you. However, you mustn’t think that I didn’t consider you at all. On the contrary! My masked ball will be the perfect occasion for you to mingle with some of the finest families in Paris. Think of the opportunities... the conversations...”
“...the girls,” I finished under my breath. I knew perfectly well that the kind of mingling Philippe preferred took place between him and as many girls as he could persuade.
Philippe’s smile grew wider, and to my horror, I realised that he had heard me.
“Now you speak like a true man of the de Chagny family at last!” he exclaimed happily. “Of course there will be plenty of girls, and I am more than willing to help you choose the best.”
I threw my sisters a pained look. Clarille gripped my shoulder harder, and Sophie gave me a sympathetic smile, but neither of them spoke up. They knew that they were to keep their silence when Philippe held forth. It was not their place to criticise our brother or his plans. Most unfortunately, it was not my place to do those things, either.
Philippe waited a moment or two for me to express my happiness about meeting girls. When I did no such thing, he continued,
“The ball will be held in four weeks’ time, right on the night of my birthday, in our house. The servants have already started making preparations, and the invitations will go out this week. It will be the most exciting social occasion that Paris has seen all year. But don’t worry, little brother...” He gave a short laugh. “...The Phantom of the Opera is certainly not on my guest list.”
My sisters and I barely had time to exchange a look when it happened: Out of the shadowy corners, Erik spoke, as loudly and clearly as if he had been in the room, even though he was nowhere to be seen:
“Oh, M. le Comte, I wouldn’t dream of missing the occasion. I am sure it will be a night none of us will ever forget.”
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Emptiness