Richard appreciated the fact that Erik was driven to succeed, driven to write music, and driven to perfection to compensate for his physical imperfections. When he complained of shabby work, it had been due to his insatiable desire to surround himself with beauty.
In addition, he recognized Erik’s need for ultimate control. His tools of human manipulation were unlike any other, and Richard often found himself analyzing Erik’s every move and mood to anticipate his needs or discover his motives. It proved to be an emotionally draining exercise. How Andrea ever put up with him for so many years, was beyond his comprehension.
As they neared the end of their inspection, Richard turned toward Erik and looked into his frustrated expression and offered assurance.
“It will be finished.” He sighed. “I shall see to these matters immediately. Perhaps within the next month or two we can start planning the grand opening ceremonies.”
Erik glanced up above him at the partially reconstructed roof, which loomed as the most daunting project. “I’ll be glad when the damn roof is back, and we can begin reconstruction of the stage and seating areas.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Richard cautiously inquired.
“You may ask,” Erik replied coldly, “but I retain the right not to answer.”
Always the same response, he thought. “Do you ever miss Paris and the Garnier?” Richard wondered if he would answer truthfully.
“Some things I miss, yes, but there’s no use living in the past when I have a future to build.”
Richard easily surmised what Erik truly missed, and it wasn’t a building; it concerned a woman. His obsession continued to haunt him thousands of miles away.
“True, one should look to the future,” Richard agreed, not wanting to push the matter further. He closed his black notebook. “Will there be anything else?”
“Not tonight,” Erik replied.
Richard noted the moody response. “Well, then until tomorrow. I think I’ll visit Andrea, I have some things to discuss with her this evening.”
“It’s about time,” Erik noted, as he wandered away with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. “I would have thought by now that you would have taken care of those matters, Richard.”
“Indeed,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I should have.”
Erik, perceptive as usual, had touched his own sore spot. He had purposely avoided Andrea since his arrival. However, Erik had made sure he placed them in proximity of one another. When Richard moved into the opera house, he discovered his quarters were next door to hers. Obviously, the setup had been a planned ploy by the manipulator himself.
Andrea, it appeared, had not totally come to terms with his return either. Their relationship since his arrival had been strained and cold. Perhaps it had been for the best, considering the circumstances and voluminous amount of work involved in the restoration process.
Andrea spent her days overseeing the living quarters and hiring the new general staff, such as housekeepers and cooks. Like the Garnier, when the opera house stood restored, an entire community of individuals would live underneath its roof like one large family.
Richard said nothing further to Erik, and walked resolutely to Andrea’s quarters, determined to make amends. When he reached her door, he stood thoughtfully looking at the handle, wondering if she would give him the time of day. Instead, he braced himself for the worst and a shooing of her hand accompanied by one of her disapproving looks. He wanted to offer her an olive branch of peace, if nothing else. After all, they were now in the uncomfortable position of living next to each other and working side-by-side.
He rapped on the door with his knuckles and waited for what seemed like an eternity. His heart pounded in his chest. A moment later, the door opened and Andrea’s face shifted to a sour expression upon seeing him on the other side of her threshold.
“Yes?” she asked with one eyebrow lifted in disdain. “You wish something?”
“What I wish, Andrea, no doubt you’d refuse me,” he confessed. “All I want at this time is a civil conversation between old friends.”
He watched Andrea pull her mouth to one side, showing her disgruntlement over his unwelcome visit. Her eyes studied him for a few moments, as if she were trying to decide whether she cared to let him in or not. Finally, with a relenting sigh, she bid him entrance.
“You may come in.”
Richard quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind him, before she could change her mind. Andrea walked over to her divan and sat down, while Richard glanced about her quarters noting the interior. Her furnishings were modest and drab. Dull lifeless paintings, dim lighting, and dark green upholstery gave the room a dreary atmosphere. The room appeared shrouded in sadness and void of joy. Richard wondered if it reflected the state of her heart.
She still wore the same dress he had seen for the past three days, and Andrea’s dark hair coiled on top of her head in a bun. He remembered how he hated the style before, and he hated it still. He wanted to walk to her side and pull out every hairpin to release it from captivity and let her curly locks cascade to her shoulders.
She was an attractive woman, who for some reason insisted on hiding her true beauty. More than one person in the Royal Opera House wore a mask of sorts. Andrea’s, of course, lay invisible to the naked eye but visible to Richard’s heart.
Richard studied her face, trying to ascertain her feelings, but she did well in showing no emotion except indifference. He wanted to see a glimmer of affection. If any fondness remained, she had expertly concealed its existence.
He possessed a thousand questions about the time he had been absent in Italy. Much had transpired with the Ghost and her daughter, and Richard felt anxious to fill in the gaps.
“You look well, Andrea,” he noted affectionately. “Tell me first, how is Meg?”
“She’s fine, Richard. Married, with children, and a baroness!”
Richard saw the pride in her eyes. “A baroness you, say? I seem to remember Erik prophesied as such. Did he arrange the marriage?”
“Their meeting,” she replied. “But love took its course afterward. He foolishly prides himself as a matchmaker, you know.”
Her eyes averted Richard’s, and he knew why. Erik’s actions were indeed a mystery. He had never experienced the love of a woman, but had no qualms in arranging the happiness of others, if he possessed the power to do so.
Andrea interrupted his thoughts. “You see, Erik is not the selfish monster you thought him to be."
Richard sighed. They had returned to the point of contention that had driven them apart. He had to admit, though, that his feelings had changed somewhat.
“Perhaps I did think of him that way in the past, but I now see he is more man than monster.” He hesitated, wondering if he should spill his entire thoughts, but decided honesty would be needed if they were to move forward. “I still question his sanity at times, Andrea, and believe if pushed far enough, he still possesses violent tendencies.”
Her face turned bitter with disapproval.
“You needn’t worry. He hasn’t strangled anyone lately, if that’s what you’re thinking."
Richard quickly changed the subject, wanting to dig further into the reasons behind their relocation.
“What happened in Paris, Andrea? Why did he choose to come to Valletta?"
“Well,” she huffed, as if he should know the reason behind it all. “Valletta is not Paris; it’s that simple. Things happened after you left, I’m afraid. A sordid state of affairs between Christine and the Vicomte de Chagny unfolded, which turned ugly. Erik lost his senses, brought down the chandelier, abducted Christine keeping her captive for days in his lair, and nearly killed the Vicomte and the Persian, who tried to rescue her from his insanity. Sadly, a horrible accident transpired too, and Comte de Chagny died; but Erik swears he was not responsible for the man’s demise.”
Andrea shook her head, as if she tried to erase the scenes from her memory. “It was quit
e unpleasant, I will admit. Afterward, Erik disappeared, and people assumed that he had died. The Vicomte and Christine moved to Sweden and married.”
Richard watched Andrea as she appeared to struggle with her next words. Her eyes fell to her lap, and she fiddled with her hands nervously. “If I tell you something, Richard, swear to me that you will not mention it to Erik.”
“You have my word, Andrea,” he assured her, while leaning forward from his seat in anxious anticipation.
“I have kept in touch with Christine by correspondence, though we only occasionally write to one another. Erik would strangle me, not literally, of course,” she quickly clarified. “Though I think he would see it as my own betrayal. Christine is quite happy with Raoul, and she has a beautiful daughter now.”
“And does she sing?”
“Occasionally, she pursues her career when she is able, but naturally it’s more difficult with a child. She sings at the Royal Swedish Opera.”
“Well, that is good news,” Richard concluded. “I am, however, sad to hear of the Comte’s passing.”
“I can only say that Erik lost control and slipped into a season of insanity. He couldn’t have Christine willingly, so he took her by force. Thank God, he finally came to his senses and freed her, along with the Vicomte and the Persian. Afterward, he moved to the country, and I went with him. We settled in a small village near Rouen where he was born. He had sunk into a deep depression for some time, until the news of the Royal Opera House reached his ears. It seemed the perfect opportunity to leave and start a new life.”
“And the authorities, do they still search for him?”
“He believes they do, though we are not aware of any formal charges filed. The strangeness of the Comte’s death, I believe, caused much speculation. Hence, his decision to continue to live as a Ghost within these walls, rather than show himself to the public.” Andrea hesitated and then added, “You are a godsend to him, Richard.”
“Yes, it is a shame,” he admitted, “that he cannot live the life of a normal man. I do pity him in that regard.” He paused before confessing his conclusions. “I’ve come to respect his genius, Andrea. He is remarkable in many ways.”
“As you can see, he’s the master of manipulation having brought me here.” She finally shared a smile in his direction. “He found new purpose and inspiration. Coming to Valletta has been a wise choice on his part, which I think has helped him come to terms with life.”
“And have you come to terms with your own?” Richard inquired, opening up what could be Pandora’s Box.
“I’m happy here if that’s what you mean.”
Her voice turned terse, and Richard recognized her sensitivity. He moved uncomfortably in his seat, fighting with the next words he wanted to express. Finally, with a slow, heart-felt confession, he spoke his feelings.
“I do hope in time we can perhaps rebuild our relationship, Andrea. I must declare that I have missed you terribly.” He raised his eyes in a hopeful gaze, searching out her response. “I shall not pressure you though.”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
Richard’s countenance fell at her words.
“I will say that I am thankful you are finally seeing the man behind the mask who I served for so many years. You never wished to look behind it before. You were too damn stubborn. Perhaps you will see he was worthy of your respect. Do you finally understand why I chose, and still choose to serve him?”
Not really, he thought to himself. Why did one woman feel obligated to such a man? Yes, he deserved compassion for his fate, but still, his sordid past shouldn’t earn him any worthy following. Richard wondered if Erik had her under some type of spell that clouded her wisdom. Her dedication remained a mystery, but an integral part of the woman he adored.
“I am trying,” he admitted with hesitation. He had built a small bridge between Andrea and himself and felt satisfied with their progress. The adoration he felt for her remained strong. She was an exceptional woman, who saw good rather than ugliness—Erik being a perfect example. The years they had fought over Andrea’s dedication to the Ghost, now seemed a waste of time. If only he had been more understanding in the past, they would be married now.
He stood and nodded. “Well, I have my latest orders and must be off.”
Reluctance toned his voice, as he headed toward the door. Turning to face Andrea once more, he smiled softly, his mustache curling at its tips.
“I’ll be glad when opening night arrives, and life settles down into a normal routine.”
“If it’s any consolation, Richard, I will be too. I have my own struggles dealing with a grumpy owner who demands perfection.” She flashed a warm smile that he took to heart. “I’ve been looking for housekeepers and cooks, and he demands to be involved in those decisions.”
“Well, if anything,” he added in jest, “we both suffer the same fate from the Master of the domain.”
His hand finally found the ability to turn the doorknob. Richard wanted to raise her hand and press it to his lips. He refrained from following the impulse and swiftly exited, closing the door softly behind him.
A chill ran up his spine when he thought of what lay ahead. He needed to brace for more of Erik’s ranting and raving as the work progressed. The man was a genius; perhaps that was how Andrea rationalized his behavior. He would try the same tactic and see if it helped his situation but had his doubts.
Chapter Eight
There were days when Erik believed he stood on the brink of insanity. The construction progressed much slower than anticipated. Every day he would make demands, which he fully expected to be fulfilled quickly. Instead, it would take days of ranting and raving at Richard and the irritating incompetent staff to carry out his will.
It had been two long years since the night of the masquerade. Antsy investors were waiting to see the Royal Opera House fully restored. If he did not finish it soon, he would burn the damn thing down to the ground while he stood in the midst of the inferno.
The stress and pressure often drove him to his decanter of cognac. He began to reek of alcohol in the presence of Richard and Andrea, who no doubt thought he had turned into a drunk. He did not care and ignored Andrea’s frequent judgmental glares when he drank too much.
To calm himself, Erik returned to his private quarters at night and attempted to compose music. The act proved futile. Eventually, he would pick up his violin and play haunting, dark scores to soothe his pain. He felt empty and void inside. Sleep eluded him. When he finally did succumb, the faces of those he had tortured or murdered returned in his dreams with a vengeance.
At the beginning of the third year, the conclusion of their toil neared. A new roof hung over the auditorium. Erik was pleased with the interior stonework carved to perfection. The reformed sculptures added to the artistic elements of the interior. The outrageous Governor’s box protruded over the dress circle as it had before, supported by two massive pillars. The remaining five tiers of patron boxes were ready for occupants, including his own with its secret entry and exit. The red velvet seats for the audience were soon to arrive, and after installation, the final plans for the gala opening night would follow.
The completed hardwood stage stood bare, but in time, it would hold the sets for scheduled opera productions. The riggings, curtains, multiple ropes, pulleys, and catwalks were all in place, tested, and in working order. Erik made sure he could prowl around, as he had in the past, whenever he felt inclined. The practice of stalking his prey returned a devious smile to his gloomy face. He enjoyed traversing the catwalks while gazing at the stage below.
After discussions with Richard over his planned performance of Gounod’s Faust for the opening night, he placed advertisements throughout Europe at various operatic venues searching for talent. In addition, the local news announced auditions scheduled to begin in the weeks ahead. As a result, they were inundated with responses.
Erik studied the interested applicants, his eyes scouring for names that were recogni
zable, as he hoped beyond hope that he would see a certain soprano’s application from Paris or Sweden. He soon threw such fanciful hopes to the side and faced reality that he would never see or hear from her again.
Among the responses, however, he did find an ounce of amusement that caused him to roar with laughter. He had received a letter from Carlotta, written in her usual narcissist form, praising her abilities. After a loud, husky laugh, Erik wadded up her penned inquiry and tossed it into the trash.
In the end, Erik reviewed his choices with Richard and Andrea, and appointments for auditions were set. They sat in the front row while Erik sat in Box 5 unseen, listening from the shadows and making his own assessments of the various singers. Afterward, the three gathered and discussed each audition, but Erik gave the final word after considering his friends’ opinions.
Searching for the right soprano, who sounded half-way decent, proved to be a challenge. Erik knew there wouldn’t be an angel among the entire lot who auditioned. How could there be? Instead, he settled for the best that he could find, which he felt still needed copious amounts of coaching.
In the end, he hired a young soprano by the name of Maria Lucia Cardona from Italy. She had performed in a variety of productions but did not appear hardened or spoiled by too many years of success as a celebrated diva. Maria seemed pliable and could be molded to his whim. He would do so by giving instructions through Richard and his new maestro, Paul de Marco, to better her performances.
The chosen tenor for Faust had been a local man by the name of Renaldo Rossini. Erik highly approved of his ability. He had performed in previous productions before the destruction of the opera house. The remaining performers who were hired came from the former production company, while others were procured from other European casts.
When the tedious years of rebuilding and hiring cast and crew finally concluded, the first rehearsal was scheduled. Erik chose a gala opening date of May 25, which was the anniversary of the destruction of the Royal Opera House. It seemed appropriate to revisit that date with its resurrection to glory. To celebrate the victory, he invited Richard, Darius, and Andrea to meet him inside the completed auditorium. He brought champagne and glasses to toast their success.
The Phantom of Valletta Page 7