Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

34: Changes

I think not. "Monsieur Daae isn't like that."

"Is that right?" She took a finger sandwich from the tray. "You are young and pretty now, but down the line, he'll find someone else to satisfy his needs. Men will be men, you know. I suggest you come to terms with the fact as soon as possible."

"I'll take that under advisement," I said through clenched teeth. Mme Badeaux needed to watch her mouth.

She inclined her head in recognition. "Anyway, have you been to any good parties lately? What sort of society do you keep?"

Relieved by the change in topic, I answered. "Not much, I'm afraid. Monsieur and I are private people and keep mostly to ourselves."

She was a study in shock. "What? How do you survive, seeing the same old people day after day? I'm sure I should go insane if I had only my husband for company!"

I was sure he would, as well. "Be that as it may—" I said, refilling my teacup.

But I was interrupted. "I do hope the weather improves. I have a gorgeous flower garden, but nothing will bloom until spring is settled and the cold spells cease. You must come by and see them in a month or so. There is nothing so lovely!"

I nodded, expecting that her monologue would continue regardless of my reaction. I tapped my fingers on my leg as she resumed speaking.

"Anyway," she said, "I simply must take you out some evening. The Marons throw the most delightful galas in the spring! Anyone this side of the city who has any sort of name will be there. The grand ballroom at their chateaux can fit hundreds! You will need a new gown, of course," she added, glancing at my attire.

I looked down at myself. It was true my dress was plain, though well-tailored and of quality fabric. I didn't lack embellished gowns; I just chose not to wear them all the time, preferring comfort over opulence. "I think it is perfectly acceptable for everyday," I said.

Mme Badeaux wasn't listening; she was looking around the parlor.

What else could she be critiquing? Plush rugs covered the floor, and the room was tastefully decorated. Since I had done most of the styling in this room, I took personal offense to any criticism.

"This room appears more a study than a lounge," she remarked. "So many books! When does your husband find time to read them all?"

"Actually, most of these are mine. Monsieur Daae's are in his office." I sipped my tea, enjoying her reaction.

When she recovered, she jumped on the subject of Erik. "And why have I yet to meet this elusive gentleman?" Her eyes glinted with mischief.

I sighed. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but there was no point concealing the truth. Our neighbors were bound to find out sometime, and I sensed that Mme Badeaux wouldn't relent her questioning until she had a satisfactory answer. "He...has a certain deformity. He must cover part of his face with a mask." I gestured to my own cheek to demonstrate.

This only seemed to interest her further. "How did it happen? Are you frightened of him? Is it horrific?" She spoke in a false whisper, her whole demeanor screaming morbid curiosity.

I had to resist the urge to wrap my hands around her powdered little throat. Erik was rubbing off on me. "I think this may have been a mistake," I informed her, setting down my tea things. "I'm sorry, but I have some work to do this afternoon that I've only just remembered."

"Work?"

"Yes, I assist my husband with his consulting business."

"But," she paused, confused, "how can you stand living with a deformed man? I don't comprehend why you would choose to spend more time with him than necessary. Isn't his face terrible to look at?"