Masque: LeBeque (A Gaston Leroux Phantom of the Opera Romance Series) Book Three

By Caridad Martin

Their home by the lake is attacked by thieves and Erik is nearly killed. When Christine leaves Paris with Erik, to her knowledge, she is going to a servant’s home. When they arrive at a grand château, Erik is taken inside, but Christine is taken around to the servant’s entrance. She has no idea what will be in store for her in this enormous home. And where is Erik's father?

Louis, the Marquis du Bourdeny believes that Erik’s wife is at the root of all his problems. He will do anything to keep her away from him. He want's Erik to take his rightful place as his son and heir. As far as Louis can see Christine has no place in those plans. Louis, would welcome the eventual dissolution of the marriage. That is, until Louis discovers that inside LeBeque there is a greater danger to Erik than Christine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caridad Martin
• Release date: Jan 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310505270

Caridad Martin

Caridad Martin grew up in New York City after leaving her native Cuba. She started writing at age seven and has continued creating people on paper that talk to each other--she refuses to admit that sometimes on a silent, moonless night, she can hear them.She has travelled extensively in the US, Europe, Latin America, Taiwan and the Philippines, she even lived in England for several years. Online, she has written Phantom of the Opera stories since 2005 under the pseudonym of Phantasmarose.Caridad is an educator and has written several articles on the use of technology in education. She divides her free time unevenly, between writing, curling up with a book and gardening. She lives in New Jersey with her family and loves to snuggle with her over-sized dog Bradley.

Book preview

Masque: LeBeque

A Gaston Leroux Phantom of the Opera Romance series

-Book Three-

Caridad Martin

~~~

Smashwords Edition

Masque: LeBeque© 2015 Caridad Martin

A Gaston Leroux Phantom of the Opera Romance series, Book Three

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any semblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons’ living or dead, is coincidental. This book’s main characters are based loosely on those of the novel The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux published in France, 1910. Other fictional characters are my own.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper - without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed or may no longer be valid.

Author’s website www.caridadmartin.com

Cover by Jesh Art Studios.

Author’s note:

Throughout the 19th century in France, unlike in England, when referring to a titled noble by the title alone the style was not to capitalize the title as in, the comte, the vicomte, the marquis. When the noble was referred to by the full title, the style was to capitalize the title as in, the Comte du Villiers. I have used this style throughout the book.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

About the Author

Masque: Deception

Excerpt: Chapter 1

~ Chapter 1 ~

What’s Good for the Gander?

The coach skirted around a fountain and came to a stop as a massive wrought iron gate flew open. Christine heard running steps and orders being shouted by a familiar voice she couldn’t place. Éduard helped her step down from the coach. The opposite coach door was opened and Erik was whisked away into the house, closely followed by Dr. LaFollette. Oh, God, what if they throw him out when they uncover his face? She was happy to have brought her jewelry and some money; it would come in handy to buy medical attention and a roof over their heads for a few days if they were thrown out. Her hopes were pinned on Dr. LaFollette making a case for mercy for his patient until he recovered.

There were dozens of new faces surrounding her, talking all at once, save for one. It was the stranger with the graying hair who had stopped the Chagnys from shooting Erik in Mme. Giry’s parlor and then visited their home in the midst of Erik’s madness. She didn't have a clue as to the man's identity or why he was here shouting orders. The stranger had helped them before, and hopefully was doing so again. Éduard shook hands with the man and spoke a few words with him, looking and pointing towards her, then followed the stretcher and Dr. LaFollette inside. The stranger looked straight at her. She smiled and began to walk over to him to greet him, but the ice cold look in his eyes stopped her from getting any closer. A muscle twitched on the side of his chin and he abruptly pivoted away from her. As he reentered the house he barked in a gruff voice, Close the door! She was bewildered by his reaction. Christine walked up the steps quickly to enter through the door before they closed it. A young footman in pale blue and silver livery blocked her way.

You’re not allowed in this way, Madame. The footman shut the door in her face. This had to be a mistake. She grabbed the knocker, but her hand was pulled away before it made a sound. Before she could protest, a matronly old woman with dark eyebrows and greying hair took her by the elbow and pulled her away from the door. Christine shook the woman’s hands off. Excuse me, I need to go with my husband! she cried. I need to get in there. She started for the door again.

A stooped, wrinkled man in a black suit and snow white hair blocked her way to the door and stood very still, slowly checking her from her hair to her slippers. Disgust crept into his eyes and he crimped his lips in disapproval, making obvious his notice of the soot stains on her dress.

You are at LeBeque, Madame. You will please show a modicum of civility. Lower your voice; I have orders to escort you outside the gates if you do not cooperate.

Christine was both alarmed and confused by the old man’s words. Why was everyone acting as if she did not belong with Erik? Was it possible they thought she was a stranger who had just come to deliver him? Did Erik’s father tell anyone about her? And just where was Erik’s father?

I am Christine, Erik Ménard’s wife. The man just brought in the stretcher. I must go to him, she said in an attempt to clarify the situation, her hands in front of her wringing her dress. At least Dr. LaFollette was inside with him, but where had they taken Erik? She needed to find out and go to him.

In dismay at the situation, Christine explained it to the two servants who were stopping her from entering the house. I came with my husband Erik and Lord Éduard…

With a nasty grunt the old man cut her off, "I am Favreau, butler at LeBeque, and I know exactly who you are Mme. Ménard. He turned away from her and spoke to the older lady. Take her around the back, Berta. You know his lordship instructions," Favreau said with an emotionless face.

The woman shook her head and held on to her elbow very firmly this time. You better come with me, Mme. Ménard. His lordship will not abide a scene.

Christine thought it better not to struggle since Favreau still kept an eye on her. I don’t understand what is happening. Why can’t I be with my husband? she asked Berta, trying to fight the rising panic while she gently continued to try to pull her elbow out of the woman’s grip without success.

Your husband is being cared for. Isn’t that what matters most? You would only be in the way. Can you do more than three experienced doctors and four nurses?

No, but he would want me there. I know my husband.

They need to clean him up and make him comfortable. You will see him when the doctors think it’s appropriate.

But I want to see him now.

If you are quiet and mind me, his lordship might let you stay. Come quietly now. Don’t make things harder for yourself. You have everything to lose. Christine shivered in cold dread. Might let me stay? Evidently, the hospitality extended only to Erik and not to his wife. This all had to be a mistake. Éduard was inside; she was certain he would clarify everything with his lordship and come get her in a moment. Still awash in relief that Erik was responding to Dr. LaFollette’s treatment, she kept in mind Erik’s hand pressing hers. Surely, in a short while she would be by his side again. Christine breathed deeply and refused to allow her apprehension at her own situation to cloud her reason. Erik was getting the medical treatment he desperately needed; her own comfort had to be put aside for now.

Christine didn’t doubt the sour faced butler would have her put out and so she picked up her valises, pasted on her best operatic smile and let the woman take her around to the servant’s entrance.

~

They had reached the back door. The old woman faced her and, with a resolved look on her face, she said, Look, Mme. Ménard, I will speak plainly and tell you the rules here. If you do not like them it will save both of us time if you just walk away now.

How can I walk away when Erik is in here? Please, I need to have a quick look just to see how he is doing.

His lordship had the house sanitized. Look at the state of you. How could you even think his lordship would allow you inside his home? The scullery maids are cleaner than you.

Christine felt heat rising up to her face. The thieves that hurt him set fire to our home. It’s not dirt; I’m covered in soot.

Whatever those stains are, your state of hygiene is a disgrace.

I had no time to clean my clothes; I was taking care of my husband’s injuries. She huffed. How dare this people judge her so cruelly?

His lordship would prefer you gone. So be grateful he’s letting you stay even with you arriving in this condition.

Wants me gone? And leave Erik behind? she cried, fear settling heavily in her heart. I want to speak with my husband’s father. He knows what happened to us.

"His lordship’s orders concerning you are clear. Whatever you want is not to be taken into account. You have no voice or place in this house. If you cannot abide by his rules you may leave and take yourself where you will. You are to be provided with nothing more than a bed in the servant’s quarters and meals. Understand that this is not your home so you may not wonder through the house or through the gardens, or even the park. His lordship said that if you cause me grief I am to have you put out the front gate in all haste — your husband will remain here for as long as he needs care, and there will be no goodbyes. If you are still by the gate an hour after you are put out, the gendarmes will be called. They will not be kind to a woman from the theatre. Do yourself a favor and follow my direction. If I need to be rid of you, I can assure you his lordship will not question my putting you out."

How was she ever to see Erik if she was not allowed in the part of the house where they had taken him? Doña Berta was more than clear that she was not welcome, but would be tolerated if she followed orders and kept out of the way.

I understand, she said, swallowing nervously. Christine wasn’t sure she did see or understand why she was being treated this way, but she had to do everything in her power to remain as close to Erik as possible even if she couldn’t see him. What would she do if they made her leave? I will do everything as you say.

His lordship was adamant… that you are not his guest and… should not be treated as such. You are not to have any of the privileges of a guest. He wants you out of the way. I’m sorry if you thought it would be different. If you did, you came a long way for nothing. Your lures will not work here, Bertha said, a little pity creeping into her voice.

Christine was more than surprised by her rough treatment, but his lordship had done so much for a servant’s son already; how could he be expected to take in a wife as well? Still, the blatant rejection hurt. I understand. I do not wish to be in the way. My only request is to see Erik as soon as possible.

The old woman gave her a wry smile. You’re allowed no requests; remember that. Best thing for you is that his lordship comes to forget you are here. Be a good girl and mind me. Who knows? His lordship may come around in a few days and grant you a visit once you are clean and looking decent, she said in a softer voice.

A few days before I know anything. Christine gasped, hating to plead, but willing to do so. How can I wait days to know of Erik’s condition?

You may be allowed news sooner than that. I can ask, the woman conceded.

Please, Mme. Berta…

The old woman’s face turned sour again. My name is Doña Berta. You would do well to start by remembering that before starting to make demands. You are not the only one worried this past day.

An accent that she had not noticed before curled around every word the old woman spoke. Please, Doña Berta, I love my husband and need to know how he is doing.

Come this way. You will get news when his lordship says you may.

Christine thought it best to keep quiet and follow Doña Berta for now. They walked into the small foyer and down a narrow hall. Berta stopped at a room at the end of the hall. She found the key in her apron pocket and opened the door.

Come inside and wash up.

But my belongings have not arrived.

Are the rest of your things in the same condition as what you are wearing?

Christine lowered her eyes and nodded.

When your things arrive I’ll check the state of them and decide if the lot needs to be dumped.

Christine bit her lips to keep herself from protesting at the injustice of her treatment.

Yes, Doña Berta.

I’ll be back with clean clothes for you to wear. Don’t sit on the bed. Leave that dress and everything you’ve got under it behind the door and you’ll be allowed to wash it tomorrow. There’s a towel and a sliver of soap on the stand. Water’s in the jug.

Where is the comfort room?

The servant’s privy is to the left of the door we just came in through, Bertha said, closing the door behind her.

Christine looked around the dark room. There was a small window at the back of the room over one of the beds. The walls had no art work, but there was a wooden cross behind the door. There were two straight back chairs and a wooden table aside from the stand. The room had white spotless walls. There were three other beds in the room; all of them were covered with the same faded blue threadbare coverlet. Would she be sharing this room with anyone else? There was no indication of other girls being in the room. She recalled sharing a room at the conservatory and the girls always left stockings about as well as their face creams and potions.

Christine stripped and let her garments fall to the floor. She poured water into the chipped metal basin to wash up. The water was cold and it was hard to get the hard sliver of soap to lather, but she was grateful to wash up after such a long trip. She wondered when she would be allowed to see Erik again or at least get news of his health. After her wash, she folded her clothing and placed it behind the door where Doña Berta had told her. She sat shivering on the bed wrapped in the scant towel to wait for Doña Berta. She did not want to do anything to get herself thrown out of this house.

Doña Berta returned with a neat stack of folded items on her arms and a small sack. I will loan you these spare garments from the laundry room. They are clean and serviceable. Not as fancy as what you’re used to. Remember, this is a loan so you are responsible for these items. Keep them neat and clean. This is the country and your slippers are not suitable here so later you can come with me and we’ll get you a pair of rugged boots. Dress and I’ll be back for you.

If I don’t get to meet him while Erik is recuperating, please thank his lordship for me for helping my husband, Christine called after her. Bertha looked back at her inquisitively, and just shrugged her shoulders as she walked away.

Christine took the garments and laid them out on the bed. Aside from undergarments, she had two long sleeved dresses, one solid brown and one in a grey calico made of durable twill. They were well used and delicately darned in places — servant’s garb. She sighed, remembering her beautiful clothes before they were ruined by the fire. The borrowed underwear also was made of rough cotton. She was glad to be clean and have fresh clothing to wear. She supposed that while they stayed in this chateau she would be treated as a servant. It was best to dress as others did in that part of the house. She would not want Erik’s father to be embarrassed by her asking for special treatment when he was a servant himself. She chose the grey calico dress with the scoop neck. The dress buttoned in front and she was able to put it on quickly.

A short while later Doña Berta, with her hair fully covered under a cap, returned to her room with more towels and a thick yellow bar of soap.

His lordship wants you checked and deloused if need be. He is very meticulous about things like that and he won’t take a chance on you bringing little visitors into his home. If we find even one louse on you, the clothes you brought with you and valises will be placed outside the gate. You are welcome to keep what you’re wearing and leave. In a kinder voice she added. You may also chose to be thoroughly deloused and then you can stay.

I do not have lice, Christine said, defending herself over this fresh insult.

Doña Berta ignored her and Christine spent the next hour undergoing the most humiliating moment of her life. Doña Berta and another servant, also with her hair under a full cap, brought her to an outdoor spigot at the back of the house.

Did you bag her clothing? Doña Berta asked the younger servant.

Yes, Doña Berta, the dress she came in has already been sent to the boilers.

They stood over her, parting her hair into thin sections, while Christine sat squatting on a small stool in front of them. The girl helping Doña Berta scraped her scalp with a fine toothed comb. The scrapping stung her scalp. She had been given a choice and there was no use complaining so she pressed her lips together and allowed the two servants to go over her hair strand by strand. Nearly an hour later her head felt on fire as Doña Berta and the second servant continued their meticulous search for lice. After a while she could no longer hold back the tears and quietly let them spill.

She’s clean, Doña Berta finally declared. Her hair was then washed with the carbolic soap, which made her head burn so much she nearly passed out. The girl dried her hair, careless of her sensitive scalp and walked Christine, angry, red faced and with a sore head, to the small bedroom she had been assigned. Her head was throbbing and she was asleep as she reclined on the bed.

~

After her short nap Christine looked through the small sack