Fantôme – Chapter 11, Part 2

In which Élise schemes and Raoul charms.

Catch up with Fantôme from the beginning

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Suddenly, Raoul was at his most charming. His beatific happiness was evident from his face and carried into his manner, and all the ladies of his sister-in-law’s circle dissolved into fits of giggles at his charm. Previously handsome but stoic, considered marriage material due to his excellent breeding and connections, he was now seen to be funny and kind – if not as daring, quick-witted and rich as his brother, who of course had been bagged by the generational beauty of their socially astute hostess. His appetite was back, and whether it was that or his confident stance Raoul seemed to have put on weight in only a week, filling out his body to a desirable, masculine softness around his neat soldier’s edges that made one or two mamas wonder if he would yet come to reflect his brother’s good-living ways… and provide the same joie de vivre for their daughters. In the salon of that week, with all eyes upon him, Raoul declared that he no longer wanted to travel for his career.

“After all,” he said, catching the eyes of Madame Valerius, who he had brought here in his own carriage to experience his sister’s famous hospitality, “what can renown bring me but trouble? Perhaps it is better for us all to live quietly and enjoy pleasures like music and the incomparable gardens of Paris. I wish to promenade the seafront of life and gaze only upon the sweet and lovely.”

Élise laughed at this. “Truly, all young men think this way – and of course! Only boys want fame for their own sake, and you have quite outgrown that stage my darling. You have come home, having met with dull men behind desks and been told that is greatness – their minds tick like clocks and their hearts beat only with optimisation, improvement, and tactics. Now you are in Paris, you will see that it takes a great lady to be truly worth renown. It is the wife’s job to dazzle, to be a jewel adorning her husband’s life. She makes his days pass with gaiety and brings all pleasures into his home. When you have a wife you want to showcase, then your ambition will return.”

“I acquiesce to you there, sister: I know that the wife I eventually take will be deserving of all the adoration Paris can offer, and even that shall not be enough for me. Then, perhaps, I will travel again – that my ambitions shall be for her, and she may spread the peace and joy she brings me, and the world may know her feminine greatness. I shall save my ambitions for my future wife; they are shelved until she may be ready to find me.”

There were a few raised eyebrows over the teacups before conversation moved on, and Élise was surprised – though very pleasantly so – to see the youngest of her family so ready to find a woman who would be an asset to them all. As she looked around the circle and saw her friends calculating how to catch Raoul for their own she quietly thanked God that the youngest son of her husband’s family was amenable, handsome and easily led. Raoul, meanwhile, was not perceptive enough to notice that others in the drawing-room did not think so abstractly about marriage: he had straightforwardly said his mind, and with natural ease continued to make polite, if inane, conversation all afternoon.

The great joy of Madame de Chagny’s salon was that it naturally led to an evening in her own Opera box. She never invited too many people to fit in her carriage, and the afternoon finished by riding around the Champ-de-Mars, across the busy Pont de la Concorde, through the Tuileries, and arriving at the Opera having been seen by all of Paris with the crème de la crème of society. Élise was sure to never have the same four or five people with her, and careful not to let anybody become attached to her name as a ‘particular friend’ by sitting opposite her at the window (the unspoken place of honour) more than once a month. This week, however, was an unusually large gathering: Raoul had brought the old lady, and she was again surprised but earnestly grateful that he had managed to finesse her as Valerius’ acknowledged successor. Madame Valerius would, of course, retire to her own box when they arrived at the Opera, but Madame de Chagny pleaded that the salonnières would ride together – she had, after all, so much to learn from the great lady, who had always been said to love music more than anybody else in Paris! Cunning Élise engineered it so that the youngest lady present – who would be charmed by Raoul by his good looks alone, and whose opinion scarcely mattered on such things – would ride with her (though it pained her to refer to herself, not yet thirty years old! as a matron, to align herself with Valerius and suggest they should better value propriety to drive with them). The mamas, then – three women from good, aristocratic families – considered acknowledging Élise’s out-of-character over-prudence, but thought she was simply being overly-deferent to the pious (though surprisingly not stuffy) matriarch who travelled with her. The mamas were certainly happy to travel with charming Raoul, and Élise hoped that the boy would spend the journey courting them. He always seemed to treat the mamas just like the girls, and they universally loved him for it.

It was a good performance, but not a glorious one. Raoul’s carriage arrived before Élise’s, as she took the most scenic route to maximise her time with her dowager forerunner, and she was pleased that he had seen the women to her box and presented them with oranges and champagne. His good manners would not permit a fine lady to go un-escorted, so he took leave of his sister to sit in Madame Valerius’ box. Élise could not have planned it better herself, as now she could discuss him much more frankly with her party. Unladylike cackles were heard that night from their box, according to letters between La Sorelli and the Comte de Chagny – though La Sorelli is too prim, even considering her rival, to commit to pen phrases so condemnatory.

Through her opera-glasses Élise spied (as well as the American ambassador, who she acknowledged was terribly handsome, with Monsieurs Debienne and Poligny, and Elisabeth of Belgium sat in the box kept by a financier’s wife) Raoul turn ashen sometime during the performance. She couldn’t pinpoint quite when, but it seemed to be when an understudy sang instead of Christine Daaé. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes when she realised – did Raoul not notice he was on the verge of a powerful match? At Confession that week, Élise thought, she was going to have to admit that she was grateful Daaé was missing. A singer’s sore throat, she thought, can be turned to Raoul’s advantage, even if it’s a sin to be happy at somebody’s misfortune. Still, it’s only a small sin, Élise thought, and it will surely end well for all parties. Her mind wandered back to the performance and she let herself enjoy the Sublimity of song.

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