“All words?” His brow raised in disagreement. “Are you forgetting the missing keys and architectural plans?” Erik took a few steps and shook his head. “No, my friend. The threat is real. Someone intends retribution, and it’s directed toward me.”
Erik placed the envelope and letter on Richard’s desk. “What worries me the most,” he continued, poking at the paper with his index finger, “is not that I shall burn in hell! I already expect that for my sins.” He inhaled a breath, stifling the horrible thoughts that raged through his mind.
“What worries me the most is that my friends and those I care about may be in danger.” Erik paused, reflecting on the past and then admitted in stark honesty what he knew to be true. “Madness sees no faces, Richard. It does not care if others are hurt.”
He spoke with deep remorse as he remembered his obsession that had brought down the chandelier in Paris. Erik possessed no qualms when he cut the cord and freed the ton of crystal orbs to create the destruction below. Neither had there been a thought in his mind of those that stood underneath the monstrosity to be crushed beneath the weight or their fate afterward. His mind had fixated on one thing—possessing Christine Daaé. Everyone else he damned, because they stood in his way.
“Whoever is sending these threats is focused upon my destruction. The others around me will be inconsequential casualties of the madness that drives them. Of this, I’m sure.” Whether Richard agreed with his assessment or not, it made no difference.
“We need to be careful, Richard. Turn this letter over to the police with the others. I don’t know what, if anything, they can do. At least they can begin some type of investigation. Ask if they’ll increase patrols outside the opera house during the night.”
Erik heaved a sigh and walked toward the door. He held the door handle, and turned around to look at Richard before departing.
“It appears my life of peace shall not arrive until I suffer for my sins.”
He left Richard alone to his duties and slipped back into his hidden quarters. Brooding darkness filled his mind. He dreaded the days ahead. The entire matter ate at him like a slow-acting poison.
Erik headed for the decanter of cognac and poured a drink. He gulped it down hoping the alcohol would swiftly flow through his veins and bring an ounce of relief to his frazzled nerves. Before it worked its magic, he lowered his head in despair. He could do nothing but wait for the inevitable—his undoing and death.
Chapter Twenty
Richard was quite surprised to receive an invitation from Andrea to dine in her quarters. He wondered why, because they had kept their relationship purely as coworkers. Naturally, he questioned her sudden change of heart for a private dinner alone.
He prepared by dressing in a casual dark brown waistcoat, matching trousers, and white shirt. In addition to actually spending the time to trim his mustache and his brushy eyebrows, he slicked his hair back with the new hair tonic he had purchased a few days ago. He wasn’t sure whether he liked the new look. Nevertheless, dinner with a lady, even one who had given him the cold shoulder for some time, had to be worth spending more attention on his appearance.
Although Richard was fifty-two, he retained a handsome countenance. His salt and pepper hair gave him an air of maturity, and he was well aware of his charismatic presence in the business world.
As far as women were concerned, many had tried to gain his attention, but he found them to be boring. He missed Andrea terribly. Since the day he left the Garnier and relocated to Venice, he finally admitted that she had been his only love. For years, she had served Erik for a mere pittance in return. Richard believed she deserved far better and hoped one day to give her the finer things in life.
He had kept his distance from her since his return, trying not to pressure her into a relationship. They had their hands full with the reconstruction, but now the opportunity had arrived to pursue her once again. While he stood before her modest two-room apartment and rapped his knuckles upon the wooden door, he sincerely wondered if tonight he should make his move.
To his surprise, the door flung open revealing a stunning Andrea, who undoubtedly had more on her mind than mere dinner. He could barely hold back his rather gregarious smile seeing she had gone to extremes in her dress for their time together.
“You look lovely tonight,” he announced, playing the part of the gentleman, bowing at the waist. He lifted her petite hand and brought it to his lips. “Enchante, Mademoiselle,” he added, giving her a wink and a sexy look to elicit a reaction.
“Richard,” she giggled, with a tsk, “You’re a tease.”
He smiled in return as they both played their little game of cat and mouse. Obviously, Andrea wanted something in return for her low bodice, perfumed body, and gorgeously arranged hair. Her flirtatious motives amused Richard.
“You love it when I tease you, Andrea,” he replied. He entered the room and closed the door behind him taking a quick glance at her parlor. A small table covered in a white linen tablecloth sat in the center of the room. Two lit candles, two plates, a silver server for food, and two glasses of wine decorated the tabletop.
“My, my,” he commented, walking over to the table. “What’s the occasion?”
Andrea played her game, fluffing off his question as inconsequential. “Can’t a woman invite an old friend to dinner?”
“Of course,” he replied, not wishing to express his suspicion of her ulterior motives that she would soon reveal.
They sat down for dinner, and Richard made small talk with Andrea during the course of the meal. As usual, the conversation drifted toward their employer.
“Might I ask how you think things are going between the teacher and his student?” he asked with sincere curiosity.
Andrea’s face turned sour. She laid down her fork on her plate, dabbed her lips with a napkin, and swallowed her last bite of food. The unreserved reaction told Richard everything he wished to know.
“Then it’s not going well,” he concluded.
“Oh, I suppose the lessons are going well, but I have my concerns about the relationship.” She hesitated staring at her empty plate, as if to serve up the right portion of words as she continued. “I don’t have a good feeling about Désirée,” she admitted. “As you know, she’s been given new duties to clean our quarters and immediately assumed she would be shown where Erik resides. I thought it too pushy on her part. Of course, I immediately put an end to any fanciful thoughts of foolishness.”
“She probably wishes to see where he lives out of curiosity. He is a recluse, you must admit. It appears intriguing to a young woman such as herself. I wouldn’t be surprised if she harbored some type of feeling for Erik. He’s a man of mystery who teachers her to play the violin and disappears into the walls at night.”
“Perhaps,” Andrea replied, shrugging her shoulders. She picked up two cubes of sugar and dropped them into her teacup, swirling them around aimlessly. Richard sensed the conversation was about to change in the direction Andrea had intended.
“So what was it that you were trying to hide on your desk today when I came into the office and interrupted you and Erik?”
Her eyes latched on to Richard’s, giving him the look. He shook his head, surprised at how quickly after dinner she revealed her motives.
“Is that the reason I’m here?” he asked, thoroughly disappointed. He looked at the little nose on her face that so expertly poked around where it didn’t belong. “It was nothing. A business matter,” he said, dismissing her inquiry.
He placed both his elbows on the table and clasped his hands in front of him. Richard leaned forward with a piercing gaze at the snoop across the table, who he unequivocally adored. “Forget about it, Andrea. It was nothing.”
“Ha!” she squealed. “You’re a damn liar, and I know it.”
Richard broke out in nervous laughter. “Now, now, let’s not get ugly. I was so enjoying our quiet time together. It reminded me of old times, Andrea, when you and I were in love. Do you re
member?”
Her gaze narrowed, and Richard caught the sparkle in her eyes when they moistened with tears. She did care, and without hesitation, he reached across the table and took her hand into his own. The warmth felt marvelous, and Richard wished desperately to return to that place they had once shared.
“Tell me, Andrea,” he continued, barely able to release the thought from his throat for fear of her refusal. “Can we start again? I think you know that my feelings for you have not changed. You are and always will be the dearest woman in my life.”
Andrea lowered her eyes from his and focused on her hand resting in his palm. He stroked it tenderly, waiting for her reply. Could she sense his love seeping from every pore? His heart beat hard against his rib cage in anticipation. The seconds dragged on while Richard waited for her to speak.
“Darling,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Her hesitancy worried him, until she reached across the table with her other hand and grasped his in return.
“I would like to rekindle what we once had if you’ll have me.”
He released her hand, rose to his feet, and gathered her into his arms in one swoop. “My God, Andrea, at last.” His lips claimed hers ardently making up for years they had been apart. The remainder of the evening they revived their hidden passions. Richard would not tell what he had been hiding upon his desktop, but he had no qualms about shouting his love from the rooftop for the entire city of Valletta to hear.
* * *
Erik’s emotions were raw as he waited for Désirée to arrive after the performance. He brought a chair and music stand from the orchestra pit and placed it center stage. The evening would be a welcome oasis of rest after the past stressful days.
Désirée arrived promptly, violin in hand. Erik felt like an inadequate fool for nurturing a crush on the petite mademoiselle, who he knew little about. When she neared, the scent of rose greeted his nostrils. He smiled that she cared enough to wear the fragrance when they were together.
She eyed the strange arrangement on stage. Erik began to play his little game for an evening of entertainment. “On the music stand,” he announced, pointing at the score, “you will find measures of scales.” He pulled out the chair. “Sit.” She obeyed his one-word command. Erik turned and headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Désirée frowned as he walked away.
“To my seat in the audience.”
“What!” she bellowed out into the empty auditorium.
He ignored her protest and proceeded to the first row and sat down facing middle stage. Erik lounged in a relaxed position and then pointed his index finger, wiggling it in the direction of the music stand. “Play the scales.”
“While you sit there and watch?” She pulled her mouth to one side in disgust.
“Yes, that is what I wish. Do you have a problem with that arrangement, mademoiselle, or should we just call it an evening?” He yawned, bringing his hand up to his mouth acting tired. He wickedly teased her, while enjoying his little game. “I’d frankly prefer to retire early for I haven’t had much sleep lately.”
“I’ll do terrible, if you sit there and watch me.”
Erik refused to relent. “Well, are you going to play or not?”
“Your ears will be sorry,” she warned, raising the bow to the strings.
He had no doubt he would be tortured. Désirée squinted at the sheet music. Erik observed her struggle. The first out-of-tune screech caused him to cringe. The acoustics in the auditorium amplified the error. God, this is painful, he thought to himself. The things I do for amusement. After a few torturous measures, Erik had heard enough.
“No, no, no, Désirée!” He jumped from his seat, stomped up the stairs, and came around behind her body. He lifted her right elbow slightly, tilted her head to a more secure hold of the violin, and adjusted her hand. “Caress it, don’t strangle it!”
He wanted to teach her, but as his flesh touched her body, a rush of desire flowed through his veins. Erik inhaled the fragrance that bathed her body, and then reluctantly returned to his seat in the front row.
“Again,” he demanded.
The bow slid back and forth trying to make music. With each pass, she came closer to making a recognizable sound. After ten minutes, she lowered the violin complaining.
“I’m tired. Can I rest?”
“No.” He glared at her. “Practice.”
Désirée’s eyes shot him a look of irritation, and he heard her heave a sigh of frustration. He merely sat stubbornly listening to each note of the scale. He wished to pound them into her memory until she dreamed about them at night. After another half hour, he saw her face express pain, but she made no complaints of fatigue. Désirée strained to please him, and he admired her tenacity.
“That’s enough,” he finally told her, not wishing her to come to a point of hating the instrument. She needed to love it, as he loved the violin. Otherwise, it would never bring forth a tune worth enjoying.
“Madame Giry said you were a strict teacher.” Désirée sighed in utter exhaustion.
“She did?” Erik rose to his feet and returned to the stage to stand in front of his pupil. “Madame Giry thinks she knows me,” he said smugly. “But she doesn’t entirely, I assure you.”
Erik looked at her beautiful face. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her beauty, golden hair, and enticing blue eyes. His hand itched to reach out and touch her porcelain cheeks and allow his cold fingertips to feel the warmth of her flesh. He pulled his eyes away, cleared his throat, and spoke.
“You should return to your quarters, Désirée.” Her eyes told him that she wanted more from him than a quick dismissal. He decided to express his growing approval of her skills. “I must admit you are improving, and I am very pleased with your progress.” She looked exhausted but unwilling to leave.
“Thank you for the new quarters and duties,” she said, with a slight blush bursting on her cheeks. “It was nice of you to think of me in that way.”
In what way? He wondered if she suspected his growing affections. “You are welcome.” Erik turned away. He wanted to say more, but feared to cross the line of sharing intimate thoughts. “You should go, it’s late.”
“Whatever you say,” she whispered.
Erik sensed her disappointment. Désirée stepped away, but Erik gently grasped her arm to express one more thought. “There will be no lessons tomorrow evening.”
“Why not?”
“I have private matters to attend to,” he replied coolly.
“All right.”
Désirée made no complaint, which surprised him somewhat. She departed, and Erik dimmed the lights in the auditorium while she returned to her room. His request to move her accommodations satisfied his less-than-honorable intentions. Unbeknown to everyone, including Richard and Andrea, her room that abutted against his private quarters contained a secret panel. When correctly engaged, a mechanism slid the panel back and opened an entrance directly into Erik’s parlor. He knew when he designed it years ago that one day it would prove useful.
Though Désirée had occupied the room recently, he had no reason to enter it and fully intended on giving her privacy. Erik saw no reason to tell her or anyone else of the unseen door. There were some secrets that should remain unrevealed.
Her nearness on the other side of the wall gave Erik both comfort and control. He needed to work through the countless emotions he daily struggled with regarding his affections for Désirée. The knowledge that she resided a few feet away helped to feed his yearnings. He admitted to himself that it bordered on a new obsession, but he couldn’t help it.
Erik enjoyed spending time fantasizing about her every move on the other side of the wall. At times he pictured her undressing and climbing into bed. It would be so easy to slip into her room and observe her asleep in the night. He knew that if he crossed that line, he’d be unable to control himself knowing that her nakedness lay underneath the thin covers.
He smirked over his little secret and headed back to his quarters.
Chapter Twenty-One
Erik’s announcement that there would be no lesson came at an opportune time. Désirée needed an evening alone. A visit had been long overdue, but each one needed to be carefully planned to avoid detection. Since the incident of the stolen keys, it became increasingly difficult to come and go as she pleased. New curfews for live-in occupants had been set. The doors were locked each evening after the performance, and no one could leave the opera house. If they did, they would not be allowed entrance again until the morning hours.
Since her life had become more restrictive, it called for drastic measures and a bit of cleverness on her part to bend the rules. Darius had chosen another dimwit to help him with security. Désirée used her wiles to bribe the man with a few extra pounds. He would wait at the door until midnight and let her back in when she returned.
Tonight she would sneak out at 10 p.m., arrive at her destination, and return without Erik’s knowledge. She had taken enormous risks during her tenure as a housekeeper; a job she found demeaning and disgusting. However, it afforded her the opportunity to slip in and out of rooms that she would have never obtained access to enter.
Her cunning little missions of thefts and mystery rope cuttings had gone well, and the perpetuator remained undiscovered. The recent good fortune of acquiring the key to the most critical room in the entire opera house furthered her plans. She couldn’t wait to share the happy news with her co-conspirator, so they could discuss the furtherance of their plans.
Désirée donned her long navy blue cloak, pulled the hood over her blond hair, and wrapped her purse cord around her wrist. She quietly opened the door to her room and stuck her head out in the dimly lit hallway, looking to the left and right to make sure it was clear to proceed. Quietly, she tiptoed down the hall and made her way to the back stage door, where her accomplice stood waiting for her exit. After pressing the bills into his hand, she left with the understanding she would return no later than midnight. He was to wait for her return.
The Phantom of Valletta Page 16
