Page 63 of Angel's Flight
“You’re mad.I’m looking forward to telling you I told you so,” was all Blanche offered with a shake of her head.
“Noted.”Meg took a steadying breath as they reached their target.
The de Chagny manor was not notable among the other houses of the Faubourg.If anything, it was rather austere and old-fashioned, and the hedges looked like they needed a good trim.The gate was open, at least, and they didn’t have to wait long for a butler to open the door.
He looked annoyed at Meg and Blanche’s very presence, which Meg thought was unfair.They were nicely dressed, with clean gloves and hats.Blanche’s even had a lovely flower tucked into the band.
“Good afternoon,” Blanche began, as planned.She was older and prettier than Meg, which made her the natural focus of the man.“We don’t have an appointment but we were hoping the Mademoiselle la Vicomtesse or Monsieur le Comte were in.We think we have something that belonged to their family.”
“Give it here; I’ll show them,” the butler replied.
“No offense, Monsieur, but we’d like to take it to them personally.It’s too precious a thing to risk it going astray,” Meg piped in.She knew it was rude and, indeed, the butler’s eyes widened in offense, but it was better to have him off balance.
“Mademoiselle la Vicomtesse is occupied today,” the butler grumbled.“And her dear brother is also quite busy with matters of business.”
“We won’t be long!”Blanche said sweetly, trying to be charming but arriving at simpering.
The butler sighed powerfully and gestured for them to enter.Meg’s heart jumped in private triumph.She had completed one step.Onto the next.
They were shown into a parlor with a handsome fireplace that remained unlit.It was still summer, of course, but the room was cold and a certain darkness lurked in the corners.
“Wait here.He’ll see you when it’s convenient,” the butler said and shut the door behind him as he left.
“Well, this is nice,” Blanche murmured, looking around at the books on the shelves and a dusty globe.“Nicer than Monsieur Tremblay’s flat at least.”
“He had a flat?”Meg asked, aware the moment she said it that the flat wasn’t the worrying part of that statement.
“I think he had a house too.Somewhere around here.”Blanche’s face was impassive as she spoke, her eyes staying to the windows and the street beyond.“But he keeps a flat close to the Opéra for convenience.I went with Rochelle once before she was relieved of him.Come to think of it, it might not even be his alone.Just a place the patrons use when one of them needs it.”
“For seduction,” Meg whispered, scandalized.
Blanch scoffed and gave her a withering look.“Seduction is not the word for it.”
“Do you know what happened to Rochelle there?”Meg asked fearfully, but Blanche waved the question away.
“Nothing of the kind would happen here.Raoul de Chagny is a better man than the other patrons.And not just because he’s younger and handsome,” Blanche giggled, and Meg rolled her eyes.She didn’t want Blanche distracted.“Do you remember how mad with jealousy we all were when the Vicomte – at the time – was so enamored of Christine Daaé?And after she laughed in his face, the lunatic.”
“Maybe he’s seen the light now,” Meg wondered aloud.“I mean, after she broke their engagement and went off wherever.”
“Do you think he’s ready to love again?”Blanche mused.“He’s so handsome.”
“Please don’t throw yourself at him,” Meg sighed.“He’s sworn off the Opéra entirely now that his lady love is long gone.He probably won’t be interested in artists.”
“Well, maybe not you,” Blanche shrugged.“How rich do you think they are?”
Meg looked around the parlor.It wasn’t gilded in gold like the grand salons at the Opéra, seeking to be another Versailles, but it wasn’t crumbling either.It was simply empty.
They jumped when the door opened and the man of the house entered.Meg had only ever seen Raoul de Chagny from afar, and that had been months ago.In less than half a year, he seemed to have aged five.He had a beard now, of the same fair brown color as his hair.There were circles under his eyes and a somberness to his expression that was entirely new.Perhaps losing a brother did that to a person.
“Good day, Monsieur le Comte,” Blanche said first, making a rather awkward curtsey that Meg was sure was unnecessary.“Thank you for seeing us.”
“I'm terribly busy.What is it?”the Comte replied tiredly.
“Busy with what?”Meg asked, hoping she looked as foolish as she was making herself sound.Shaya had told her to use the fact that everyone would underestimate her as a weak, silly girl to her advantage, and she meant to.“Surely you don’t need to work like us.”
“My family owns many business interests and lands, as all nobles do, and they do not manage themselves,” Raoul replied tightly.
“Philippe never mentioned that,” Blanche said, oblivious to the way the words darkened Raoul’s face.
