Page 33 of Angel's Fall
5. Family
Raoul missed risingearly. He had formed the habit from months at sea when he had slept rocked by the waves and sailors were expected to be up and working before the morning bell even rang, if they knew what was good for them. Now, he slept in a soft feather bed alone, rather than bunked amongst half a dozen snoring men, and he tossed and turned with worry after late nights of misadventures. He rued how soft he had become as he rose and rang for his valet to dress him.
“Is Mademoiselle Sabine still in?” he asked the valet as he brushed the shoulders of Raoul’s jacket.
“Yes, she’s at breakfast with Comte Philippe. The Baron de Martiniac has joined them,” the valet stammered. Raoul huffed and bolted from his bedroom down to the small dining room where breakfast was being served.
“Ah, there he is!” Antoine piped up first. “I was hoping you would be here for the official event.”
“What event?” Raoul asked, not hiding his scowl.
“We don’t need it to be anything more than it is,” Sabine muttered, a slight blush on her cheek. Raoul blanched. He was too late.
“Still, I should like to formally ask to join the family with the whole family here.” Antoine grinned like a wolf. “What do you say, my lovely Sabine, will you have me as a husband?”
“I guess so,” Sabine smirked.
“Now, when will we have the party? Before our dear Raoul takes to the sea again, I hope,” Philippe said. Raoul hated the way that made Sabine’s face fall.
“You’re not still intending to go to the North Pole, are you little brother?” Sabine asked. “Please make this the true happiest day of – well, at least my week – and tell me you are staying.”
“I’m staying,” Raoul heard himself say. In truth, he had decided it days ago, when he had resolved to kill the man that had taken his father and threatened to take Christine.
“Oh, Raoul, thank you! You don’t know what it means that you will be there for the wedding,” Sabine beamed.
“Congratulations to you both.”
“Thank you, dear brother,” Antoine said, ending the reverie. “Speaking of romance, how is Mademoiselle Daaé? Yes, we all know you were seeing her yesterday. Philippe was just telling us that you can’t be dissuaded from her.”
“Could she be invited to the engagement party?” Raoul blurted out.
“I will invite her myself if we see her at the Opera tonight,” Sabine smiled, and Philippe looked at her in shock. “What? I’m feeling celebratory. Indulge me.”
“We should go consult with Madame Cayette about the scheduling and arrangements.” Philippe looked positively joyful. He rose and offered a hand to his sister. “I will be giving you away at your wedding, won’t I?”
Sabine grinned as she took her brother’s hand and followed him from the room, sending Antoine another cool smile as they left. Raoul marked how when Sabine was gone Antoine’s mask of warmth and chivalry fell away.
“So, what did you learn yesterday skulking around the Opera?” Antoine asked. “I hope humiliating yourself with that little minx had some benefit.”
“For your information, I did learn quite a bit. I met—” Raoul stopped himself. He didn’t want Antoine to know he’d enlisted help, as useless as the Persian had proved. “I met with some obstacles. It’s hard to get down to the lake – where he is. There are more hazards than just him down there.”
“Hazards?” Antoine scoffed. “It’s just a cellar, Raoul. Albeit one with an impressive little pond.”
“A pond full of booby traps apparently. And you can tell me it’s just a cellar again when you meet the rat catcher.” Raoul shivered as he recalled a thousand little claws over his lower half.
“Sounds dark and dangerous. Did you faint?” Antoine sneered, and Raoul had endured quite enough.
He stomped from the salon and back to his room. The display he had created the week before of all the evidence and clues about Erik was still there on his desk. There was more to be added now, and at least putting it there would give him some piece of mind until he saw Christine again tonight. Until he could start anew trying to win her over to his side and learn what he could from her. He needed to record the entire narrative in the meantime, and so he began to write.
––––––––
Erik adjusted the whitetie at his throat, noting how the fabric felt more restrictive than usual today. It always happened when his mind or spirit was not at ease that even the texture of cloth on his skin became irritating, and every buckle and button was too tight. The mask was the worst: hot and hard against his face, the hooks that kept it in place heavy behind his ears.
There were times when his formal clothes, cape, hat, and mask were the armor between him and the cruel world. Right now they were just another uncomfortable wall separating him from humanity.
Maybe Christine will understand, he thought as he crossed the parlor to her room to see if she was ready to be escorted up. She wanted to be there early before the performance to see Julianne, since Erik had delivered her friend’s message. Which was why he was surprised to see her still in just her underthings. She was sitting on the bed with her back to him, her shoulders slumped.
