by Kailin Gow
“Veronique became involved with a man, Martin, and had an illegitimate boy a few years before she married Philippe, Rupert’s father.”
Aaron let out an indignant huff. “If I understand you correctly, Veronique was not an Aragon. How can you claim to have our blood running through your veins? You are just the bastard son of…”
“Of Philippe’s cousin,” Jean Paul said. “Martin Aragon.”
“Raising him herself was apparently out of the question, so she simply left him stranded at the steps of the Paris Opera House. Allowed to run around and play, the Opera House became his home. Although various stage people there took care of him, he was left to fend for himself.
“His love of the opera grew as did his knowledge of every corner of that old House. The intense love of music would become his life and he would go on to compose some of the most unforgettable music of the century. Though his music was revered and loved by all, few could tolerate to see the face of the great composer.”
“No,” Aaron let out in disbelief.
“Before long Parisians took to calling him the Phantom.”
“No!” Aaron released my hand and for a moment I thought he would reach out to choke Eric. “That’s impossible.”
Eric turned cool eyes to Aaron’s hostile glare. “The man they called the Phantom of the Opera was really Rupert’s half-brother.”
Fascinated by the increasing complexities of Eric’s life, I watched him as he took in Aaron’s shock.
Kristine had tried to convince Eric to kill Rupert. Perhaps this family connection was what had kept him from going through with it. It was perhaps what also drove Kristine so raving mad; after all, Eric was an Aragon as well.
“What do you make of this, Jean Paul? Is this some ruse to try to get at the Aragon fortune?” He glared at Eric.
“As far as I can tell, this man is indeed an Aragon,” Jean Paul said as he reached up to set a reassuring pat on Eric’s shoulder.
Eric’s brow cocked in defiance, waiting for Aaron to argue further. When Aaron turned to stare out the window, Eric gazed sidelong at me a brief moment, a moment filled with questions and speculation.
He’d told me he was seeking his heritage. Never could I have imagined it would lead him here. What must he be thinking to see me in Aaron’s home?
“I’d like to have my lawyers go through all this more thoroughly,” Aaron said.
“But I’ve already given them a good once over,” Jean Paul said in a voice shaken with age, but firm in its belief. “I do remember what our family seal looks like and the documents are all in order.”
In a heated moment that left the room silent, Aaron turned and swept his arm across the coffee table, sending tea cups and saucers to the floor.
“Aaron, stop.” Rushing to him, I pressed my hand to his heaving chest, willing him to calm himself, willing him to accept Eric. “Please, let’s simply talk this through.”
My hand was yanked off Aaron’s chest and held in a vice grip. I turned to Eric; turned to see why his first real acknowledgment of my presence was so violent.
His eyes were on the ring on my finger. His lips tried to form words while his eyes continued to stare as though looking for an explanation.
Aaron turned angry eyes to stare at Eric, while his voice reverberated in the room. “Surprised, brother?”
Chapter 18
Disbelief clouded Eric’s eyes as his gaze remained on the ring. A wealth of pain and anguish lay bare, and I felt an overwhelming need to protect him.
“This ring,” he muttered.
Aaron tore my hand free of Eric’s hold leaving me feeling like a marionette. Control over my strings was being fought over without my consent or approval.
“Recognize this ring?” Aaron coldly asked.
“Rupert’s ring.”
“What?” I gasped.
“Did it adorn Kristine’s finger as beautifully as it does Annette’s?”
Eric’s brow glistened with perspiration. His heart was out and vulnerable as the betrayal of a century ago slapped him in the face once more. What must he be thinking to see me with a ring Kristine had once worn?
“Aaron,” I said. “Had I known… I wouldn’t…”
“Tell me Eric, did Kristine have the decency to take off this Aragon heirloom as she rolled in your bed? Or did these gems sparkle along with the lust in her eyes?”
I didn’t want to hear anymore. “Please, Aaron…”
“Did you enjoy taking a woman who was betrothed to another? One would have to assume this is all you’re capable of; taking what is not yours.” Aaron was livid. I’ve never seen him like this before. “You seduced Kristine away from Rupert, ruined their lives. Are you back to do the same with Annette and I?” He stepped forward. “Because of you, Annette nearly lost her life!”
Eric’s gaze met mine, filled with questions. When the pain faded, accusations took their place.
“I didn’t tell him,” I started. “He already knew…”
“Yes, Eric.” Aaron pushed me back, as though the visual connection between Eric and me was too much for him to bear. “I know all about Rupert. I’ve poured over enough of his journals to know all about the lovely, yet deceitful Kristine. I’ve read about this famed Phantom and I know of the pain Rupert lived through… this Phantom who is now claiming to be an Aragon… this Eric.”
Aaron’s eyes glittered as he held back from saying more. While his lips remained parted, I could see the battle being waged as he guarded his words. “You,” he finally said. “What are you, and what do you want with Annette?”
Jean Paul entered with Francoise on his arm. I’d not even noticed Jean Paul’s departure, but his entrance seemed to cool Aaron’s temper.
“I see you boys are becoming acquainted,” Francoise said. Her chipper tone could have led one to believe she was oblivious to the quarrel, but a knowing gleam in her eye indicated just how wise this frail-looking woman truly was.
Aaron backed away.
“Isn’t it wonderful to have found an Aragon we knew nothing about?” Francoise approached Eric and reached out for a hug.
Eric’s massive bulk made Aaron’s mother look all the more fragile.
“And from New York as well,” she went on. “After such a long journey, I do hope you’ll stay for early supper.”
Charm and warmth instantly took over Eric, while his lips betrayed just a hint of a victorious grin. “I do believe that would be delightful. It’s been a long time since I’ve dined with such elegant company.”
Aaron turned to protest, but Eric had already hooked his mother’s arm though his and led her out.
“I’ve made an exception and have asked Marguerite to bring the supper in the breakfast room. It’s small and intimate giving us a chance to get better acquainted.”
A tiny smile came to my lips as I witnessed the quick adoration this woman bestowed on Eric. He was an instant family member and she treated him as such.
“It’s also the best place to view my spectacular garden. I do have a green thumb, if I do say so myself. Of course Benoit helps immensely, especially where the roses are concerned, but I do my bit when I can.”
The late afternoon sun invaded the breakfast room and warmed it with its natural glow. Though Francoise had claimed it to be smaller than the dining room, it was nonetheless a large and lavish room.
“Of course the winter does diminish its glory somewhat.” Francoise sat on the chair Eric had so gallantly pulled back. Even from a distance I could see the flush of color on the old woman’s cheeks.
“It’s a splendor to see.” Eric took the seat beside her and regarded the garden with interest. “You’ve no doubt had a hand in it.”
This woman of elegance, fine upbringing and class giggled like a schoolgirl. It was charming to see how at ease Eric was and how quickly he connected with his distant aunt.
“Oh,” she said, patting his large hand with her crooked fingers. “You certainly are an Aragon. You could charm a thorn
off a rose, couldn’t you?”
It was Eric’s turn to blush.
My heart leapt. He was adorable and watching him reminded me of everything I’d fallen in love with. I longed to have his hand over mine.
“There was a time when peacocks roamed the grounds,” Francoise said.
“Oh, Maman. That was ages ago,” Aaron said.
“What a wondrous day to have such pleasant guests in our home. This holiday season has been rather quiet and it’s nice to have extended family in my big, empty house.”
“I told you I was sorry for not coming for Christmas, Maman,” Aaron said, patting her hand. “The opera in New York takes every moment of my time and I couldn’t possibly…”
“It wasn’t an accusation, Aaron. I’m simply pleased you could make it for New Year’s. I fully understand your busy schedule.”
“The opera is quite a noble reason to miss family gatherings,” Eric injected. It was difficult to assess whether he was sincere or ridiculing Aaron’s excuse. “I’ve long had a love of this most beautiful of all the music forms.”
“Another thing you share with the Aragon men.” Francoise said with a wink. “You know my husband, Aaron’s father, worked for a number of years at the New York Opera House. Prior to our marriage, he established a small art school that went on to produce quite a number of impressive singers.”
“And is your husband still in New York?” Eric ventured.
“My father passed and talking about it is still painful,” Aaron said, looking at his mother.
Marguerite entered and set hot bowls of onion soup before us. Melted cheese covered the crusty bread that bathed with the onions in broth that tasted delicately of wine. All the flavors blended together in a heavenly way that kept everyone at the table silent a few moments as they warmed themselves with the tasty soup.
“Are you the only residents here?” Eric asked, glancing at Jean Paul then resting his eyes on Francoise.
“Yes. Since all the children have grown, I only have Jean Paul to keep me company.” Having eaten only half her soup, Francoise pushed her bowl aside and glanced at Eric. “Of course he is a dear and I appreciate him more than he’ll ever know.
“I know.” Jean Paul said with an adoring grin.
The tender smiles that traveled over the table between the two told of the affection they had for one another.
“It would be so lovely to have a full house again.” She turned her eyes to Aaron. “Perhaps one day I’ll know the pleasure of having grandchildren running around these immense halls.”
Aaron glanced at the ring on my finger and smiled. “I’m working on that, Maman.”
“This estate has been cursed with a series of tragedies, death and accidents. Fresh smiling faces would do wonders to brighten the place.”
Aaron’s muttering response to his mother was cut off when Marguerite arrived with the supper.
The light but exquisite meal continued with a combination of pleasant conversation and questionable glares, but Aaron managed to control his simmering temper.
“This is by far the best meal I’ve had in a very long time.” Eric set his napkin in his empty plate.
“And I’ll make sure you also have the most comfortable room you’ve ever slept in.”
“I do appreciate your offer,” Eric began. “But I can make arrangements.
“Nonsense.” Francoise insisted. “My butler is waiting for you in the front hall. He’ll show you to your room and help you with any bags you might have.”
Eric’s boyish smile returned and was aimed at Aaron as he stood and left the room.
“Aaron,” Francoise said. “I believe Jean Paul has a new mare he’d like you to take a look at. She’s a fine specimen.”
Ready to argue, Aaron looked at his mother steadily before he pushed his chair back and followed Jean Paul out.
After a dramatic pause, Francoise patted the corners of her lips with her linen napkin then gazed at me. “I’ve asked to have some herbal tea brought to the sitting room.” She stood, clearly expecting me to do the same. With an air of authority and confidence, she led me down the hall to two French doors. “Doesn’t that smell divine?”
The moment she pushed the door open, the aromatic scent greeted us, soothing and welcoming.
“Epice du Bengale,” she said. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger; all heavenly brewed together in one little cup.”
The Louis XVI chairs that adorned the room were as regal and elegant as their owner. There was something gay and bright about the room that was calming. Several paintings adorned the walls. Degas’ Femme nue, de dos, se coiffant, Manet’s Lecture and Morisot’s Le berceau; all decidedly feminine, delicate and soft. Renoir’s Fillette avec un panier de fleur drew me to the painting.
“What a beautiful little girl.” Red ribbons in her blond hair, she had huge eyes that I couldn’t look away from. Such innocence, yet there was something sad in the little girl’s eyes.
“Yes, it’s always been my favorite.”
I tore myself away from the painting, but took a chair that faced it.
The tea tasted as wonderful as it smelled and before long, we settled into a cozy conversation about the opera, Paris and finally, men. “Falling in love can be quite confusing at your age.”
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I turned to the far wall and glanced at the tapestries. Pleasant sceneries of ladies picnicking and playing Renaissance instruments, they were beautiful works of art that brought more femininity to the room. Keeping my eyes focused on the mandolin in one tapestry, I was nonetheless aware of her gaze on my finger.
“I see Aaron didn’t waste any time.” After a prolonged silence, she went on. “I did find it curious when he asked about the ring. I’d actually given up thinking he’d ever meet anyone who could meet his ridiculously high standards.”
I turned my attention to my tea cup and took a small sip. “It was quite sudden.”
“When he sets his mind to something, he rarely fails. I’ve no doubt he’s quite smitten with you.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time together since I’ve joined the cast of the opera.”
“Beautiful and modest. That’s quite rare for the star of such a largely successful show. You have a naïve charm about you that is irresistible.”
“Thank you.” Heat spread over my cheeks.
“And I wonder if Aaron is aware that others were also unable to resist your charm.”
I coughed through a sip of tea that lodged in my throat. “I beg your pardon.”
Francoise grinned, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’m old, my dear, but I’m not blind. This Eric… it’s quite obvious the effect you have on him. It’s also obvious the effect this is having on Aaron.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re an exquisite girl with a lovely disposition. And while I’d be more than pleased to have you for a daughter-in-law, I don’t believe that’s what you really want.” Her eyes dipped down to the ring again. “You’ve certainly brought out something in him that no other woman has ever managed. All this opera business has always kept him so serious. He rarely allows himself the time to truly enjoy his success. But I saw the merriment in his eyes the moment he arrived with you on his arm. He spoke of you with a light in his eye and it was evident how much you mean to him.”
“I’m very fond of him as well.”
“Fond, yes, but love?”
I stared blankly at her. My emotions – guilt, love, passion, fear – combined to leave me suddenly numb. Despite the tea, I wanted to shiver from the chill that took over me. Francoise reached out and took my hands in hers, her cool fingers adding to my discomfort.
“I certainly don’t want you to hurt my son…”
“I…”
“But I would be loath to see you falsely give your hand to a man you obviously don’t love.”
“But I do love…”
“You may love Aaron,” she persisted. “But you’re not in love with him. The Aragon name has be
en through enough without a new scandal developing. When Rupert fell in love with the wrong girl, he had to ultimately leave Paris.”
At the mention of Rupert, my eyes returned to the little girl in the Renoir for a brief moment.
“It must have been dreadful and I wouldn’t want that for my Aaron,” Francoise added.
“I have no intention of…”
“Your intentions may be pure, my dear. You're young, beautiful and naïve. Men are quite capable of bringing scandal to their name on their own; Rupert wasn’t the only Aragon man to bring shame to the name. And I’ve no doubt Aaron would pursue this relationship regardless of your true feelings. It’s up to you to put an end to this before it goes any further.”
I looked down at our clasped hands. Her fingers had warmed over my heated skin and it was I who now held her. “Aaron has always been so good to me. I do love him, Madame Aragon.”
“But you cannot overlook your love of Eric.”
I hesitated as I tried to find the true emotions I felt for him. “I am attracted to him, but it could be because of everything… the history…” I stopped suddenly. The thought of bringing up Kristine didn’t feel right. But the thought of her impact on my feelings for Eric did leave me wondering what truly drew me to Eric.
Was I just carrying remnants of the love Kristine had for him? Having never been in love before I had no point of comparison. My feelings for Eric could merely be an infatuation. Something that was fleeting and adolescent.
And what of the animosity Kristine created between Eric and Aaron? Even the sweet disposition of Chace had become violent with Kristine’s presence. In such a short amount of time she’d turned the three men in my life against one another.
Having witnessed Aaron and Eric during supper, I wondered if they had the capacity to bring their hatred for one another to the level Eric and Rupert had had.
But those tumultuous days with Kristine had also brought about some qualities as well. Eric’s loyalty came through and he became so loving and protective. It had taken me the trip to New Orleans to realize how much he cared. It wasn’t Kristine he loved.