Page 88 of Angel's Flight
She turned at the sound of Monsieur Moncharmin’s voice.He looked more tired than when she had last seen him.Had there always been a bit of silver in his chestnut hair or had running the Opéra on his own aged him?
“Thank you for finally summoning me,” Meg said.“I’ve been coming by for days.”
“I know, I’ve been very busy,” Moncharmin groaned.He tugged Meg into a corner, rather than into his office, which was odd.“Unfortunately, the situation in the cellars – as it were – is not what I called you here for.”
“But I’ve been helping Monsieur Motlagh!”Meg protested.“I might have solved part of the case.At least the motive.”
Moncharmin sighed and Meg didn’t like it at all.“He’s got you talking of cases and motives?How old are you?”
“I turned fifteen last June,” Meg said proudly, chin held high.It took her a moment to realize this wasn’t the boast she thought it was, thanks to Moncharmin’s pitying look.“Shaya trusted me to help him.”
“Monsieur Motlagh sent you into dangerous situations to ferret out answers he couldn’t get himself, you mean,” Moncharmin corrected with a sigh.“I would have asked him not to risk my employees had he consulted me, and now I have to deal with this mess.”
“He’s not risking me,” Meg cried, but Moncharmin frowned.
“Mademoiselle, have you any idea what I’ve been dealing with in the last few days?”he demanded, lowering his voice secretively and glancing to the closed door of his office.
Meg shook her head.This felt like the time when she was a child and one of the nuns at her school had found Meg sneaking to the kitchen to steal the old bread and give it to a man on the street.“No, Monsieur.”
“I received a remarkably interesting visit from a Monsieur Pomeroy.I think you know him.”
Meg grew queasy.“I...”
“He wanted to know why a client who had engaged him was dancing in the ballet under another name.”Moncharmin’s face was sympathetic but his voice was serious.
“It was Shaya’s idea.They were spying on him for Sabine de Chagny,” Meg tried to explain, but Moncharmin looked unimpressed.
“I assured the good detective that I had no idea what he meant.He didn’t believe me, but I think he was here for some other reason I can’t discern, so he let it go.”
“He’s investigating this new ghost too!”Meg cried, and then yelped as Moncharmin covered her mouth with his hand.
“Shhh!”Moncharmin ordered.“You are to say nothing of that when you go inside.Do you hear me?You will explain that you were looking into a rumor about Sabine de Chagny on a dare from some other dancer as part of a juvenile joke.”
“What?”Meg asked when he removed his hand.
“I have had to deal with the most unpleasant of visitors today, and you’re going to help me make him go away,” Moncharmin said as the door of his office opened.
“What in blazes is taking so long?”demanded the man who stood at the door.
Meg was sure she was the same shade of white as her tutu, because it was the Comte de Chagny glaring at her.
Of course the consequences had come now that Shaya was gone.Meg had to face this alone.
“I was just explaining the situation to Mademoiselle Giry here,” Moncharmin told the Comte.He took Meg by the elbow and steered her into his office, shutting the door behind her and leaving her alone with two men decades older than her and twice her size.
“I don’t see what there is to explain,” Raoul declared.“This girl and her accomplice violated my household and spread vicious rumors about my sister.She needs to be dismissed.”
“What?”Meg squawked, turning to Moncharmin.He looked equally as shocked by the demand as Meg.“It was a dare!I had heard from la Sorelli—”
“Of course it was that cow,” Raoul muttered.“No doubt in search of more attention and compensation.”
“Comp-compensation?”Meg asked.
“You dancers and artists,” Raoul said like it was an insult.“You get your claws in a man and think you can command him to do anything because you offer amusement that he could easily find in a brothel.The only difference between you and the real whores is, for some reason, my peers think it holds cachet to bed your kind.”
There was such hatred in the man’s face that Meg was speechless.Christine Daaé had not only broken Raoul’s heart when she left him; the loss had curdled his soul.
“Monsieur, please,” Moncharmin protested, stepping between Meg and the Comte to block his righteous gaze.“These were the actions of a young, foolish girl.It’s my impression that the other one was the source of the gossip.”
