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Black Angels	By : Provocateur Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 12725 -:- 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.

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Black Angels

Chapter 7: Questions with no Answers

A/N: This chapter is based in the same time period as chapter 2. It’s going to be a little shorter then my other ones, but it is necessary to move the story in the direction that I would like it to go. R N’ R!

December, 1874

Raoul walked around his brother’s lush office while holding Madeline to his chest. It was difficult not to admire the masculinity of the room, but at the same it was overwhelming. The rich cherry wood desk was one of the largest and tallest he had ever seen. It would be absolutely impossible for a person under 5’10 to sit at it and have their feet planted firmly on the floor. A short man, or a woman, would look like a mere child seated at the gargantuan workspace, the chair could easily seat two slender men.

The forest green walls were so rich and deep, yet so unfeeling. They mirrored the countenance of his brother. It was professional, formal, and unwelcoming. Raoul wondered to himself if perhaps he was the one who was remiss in his evaluation of Philippe, after all, he had been feeling an embittering resentment towards him as of late. He would never voice such discontent though, that would be unwise and impulsive.

“I cannot believe that during a meeting to discuss matters of business you bring your child.” Philippe stood with his back to his brother, gingerly scanning the books that adorned his massive shelves.

“Christine needs a break, I told her to go into the city and spend the day with Madame and Meg Giry.” Raoul had expected the criticism, and he was not at all surprised by the look of contempt that crossed Philippe’s face when his footman admitted him to the study with the infant in his embrace.

“Why could she not leave the child with one of your maids?”

“Perhaps I wanted to spend some time with her. I’ve been away four times since she was born in August.” He hated himself for his minor embarrassment at his show of womanly attachment to his daughter. Men of his class were not expected to rear a child so closely.

“If other men were here they would mock you to no end. My God Raoul! Have you any idea the things that they would say over cards?”

“There does not seem to be anyone here except for you and I, now does there?” He allowed the annoyance in his voice to show.

“You look ridiculous, like you should be wearing a corset and skirts.” Philippe lit a cigar and blew the smoke out of the opened window, staring at the gray sky.

“If you had children you would not say such things.”

“Yes I would.” Philippe sat down in his leather back chair and motioned for Raoul to take a seat across from him. He could not help but scowl slightly when his brother had to begin to whisper soft comforts in the child’s ear when she began to fuss silently.

“I want to sell you the English estate, you should live there in the summers. The English are more refined and proper then the French. It would be a better environment for your child, and much better for your wife.” Philippe reclined in his seat and crushed the head of his cigar into the ashtray that he kept on the windowsill.

“Do not speak in such a way of my wife.” Raoul let his normally soft and agreeable voice lower to produce a sound far more tense and threatening.

“If I may be terribly honest with you, I feel as though something is amiss with her.” Philippe made sure to meet his brother’s heated blue eyes when he spoke.

“If you value my friendship and brotherhood you will stop speaking right now.” Raoul began to rise, careful to not to disturb Madeline.

“Don’t be so brash, boy. I only say these things because I care for you, and quite frankly, I believe that your reputation is at stake.”

“I care for my family more then my reputation.”

“Nonsense. You may be naïve, but I know that you are not stupid.”

“What are you implying?” Raoul rose now, letting his voice rise to a stern shout. Philippe stood as well, slamming his half-empty brandy glass upon the glistening wood of his desk.

“I am implying that these incidents of sleepwalking, random disappearances, missing household items, and unexplained emergencies are not as they seem to you!”

“You know NOTHING of which you speak!” Raoul set the child down upon the seat and slammed his hands onto his brothers desk, his eyes burning with rage, his heart beating with the need to lash and out and destroy something. If his daughter were not present, he did not doubt that he would send the crystal brandy decanter flying through one of the closed windowpanes. The shattering would be most satisfying, as would the look horror upon his brother’s smug face.

“If your infant were not here, I would shatter your jaw for your insolence and your stupidity!” Philippe spat the words in Raoul’s face, his own face distorting into a look of rage. How he hated seeing what no one else could see. How he hated the blindness of those too weak to see deception before their eyes simply because they chose not to.

“You may do so anytime you like.” Raoul would not relent, he would not simply submit to his brother on something that he felt so strongly about. Philippe was taken aback by the coolness in his brother’s voice; the boy was slowly but surely growing a steel backbone. He admired his gumption, but hated his impudence. It was too bad that he could not show any gumption towards his wife, he thought bitterly.

“Raoul, you’re being an imbecile. You are refusing to see the truth right before your eyes. You have been blind for the past four years, everyone knows this, and everyone is laughing.”

“People can think whatever they want, they have nothing better to do then spread vicious rumors. The world we live in is a very sad one indeed. One where no one can speak of anything of importance because they are far too busy prying into the lives of others who do not concern them.”

“Gossip may seem shallow and superfluous, but it has ruined lives.”

“Nothing could ruin my life. I dare say that with certain aspects aside, it is almost perfect.” Raoul picked his child up and pushed his chair backwards, not caring if it left unsightly marks upon the cherry wood floor.

“You are not invulnerable, and if you continue acting as such, a horrible fate awaits you.”

“If I want to hear of fire and brimstone I shall attend mass more often.” Raoul turned away and walked towards the door of the study, desperate to be outside once more. He wanted nothing more then to retreat to his home and have dinner with his wife. Perhaps she would be more talkative after a day with friends, her spirits would be most certainly be lifted by friendly faces and soothing voices. Lately she had been but a stranger at times, speaking to him as though he were no more then a friendly acquaintance. God, it hurt so much to see that detachment on her face, that sadness in her eyes that he would never know the source of. Only at nights when she held him did he feel at peace. Yet, he never could ignore the silent tears that soaked her pillow long after she drifted off to sleep, or the horrible dreams that made her scream with such horror it nearly stopped his heart.

“You seem content to leave both me, your business interests, and your better judgment behind.” Philippe felt his heart begin to sink at the sight of brother walking out of his office with such tension and moroseness in his stride. He knew that he had hurt the boy, but sometimes people only acted when hurt. “By the way, Raoul, have you ever looked upon your daughter? I mean, really looked at her? I have, and let me tell you, she looks nothing like you.” With that Raoul nearly ran from the office, not even bothering to wait for the footman to escort him to his carriage. He knew that if he stayed he and his brother would come to blows. He had been expecting to hear those words, those horrible, vicious, damning words. He never thought that they could tear into his chest and crush is heart with such punitive force. For the first time since the night of Don Juan Triumphant, Raoul felt like crying.

***

When he arrived home he left Madeline with one of the maids and went into Christine’s music room. He looked upon her beautiful sleek grand piano and felt bile rise in his throat. He called in the servants and asked him to help him lift the hated instrument, the one that coated his soul with poison and filled his heart with crushing melancholy.

“Take this ungodly loathsome THING and burn it!” He left the astonished men to puzzle over his erratic behaviour and fled his home. He did not know why he had to get rid of the piano; he did not know why the music it produced was beginning to make him ill. He did not know why his brother’s off-handed comment made him feel as though his insides were bleeding out his life. He knew nothing, not even his own mind or heart anymore. He did not want to know.
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Black Angels