Chapter 16: Baptized

Nataly rose and crossed to him; she touched one of his hands. She still had the quilt around her, and he brought it up snuggly around her shoulders. He was wearing a white-half mask and his black handsome clothes; a black cloak covered him for now and its hood shadowed his face and its mask.

"You look better," he said in a low voice.

"I'm fine."

"Let's go to the sitting room," Leon suggested. "It's more comfortable there. Sabine, will you bring the tea?"

They lit candles as they went and lit the few candle fixtures in the back sitting room. The chairs and divans were very comfortable, and this back space was homier than any toward the front of the house where guests were entertained. Leon kneeled in front of the fireplace and showed a skill at making his own fires that Nataly had not known he had. He put in kindling, then stacked logs, and soon had a fire crackling warmly to light the room. Sabine pulled the quilt from the back of the armchair she sat down in and tucked it in over her lap.

Erik unfastened his cloak and removed it. All watched him but Leon who was still poking at his budding fire. Erik hung it on a peg on the wall and sat beside Nataly on the divan. It was clear he was uncomfortable by the stiff way he held his body, but his face remained carefully impassive.

"Is this Durand man jailed?" he asked no one in particular.

"Hospital, then jail," Leon answered him, standing and wiping his hands on his pants. "We received assurances that that was where he was headed, regardless of the interference of his relations and their money." He took a chair. "The whole city will know him now for the bastard he is."

"Your name is Erik, I understand," her father prompted.

"Yes. Nataly, would you introduce us?" Erik asked pointedly.

"Oh! Oui, mon dieu, I'm so sorry. Erik, this is Monsieur Gervais Benoit, my father. Papa, this is Erik. He—he has no last name."

"But he certainly has a title," her father commented. His tone was difficult to place. He learned forward in his dark green chair and clasped his hands together. "I remember the smell of smoke in your hair and the despair in your eyes, Nataly, when you came home to tell me the Phantom of the Opera had burned down the opera house you loved so well. I remember thinking you could have died. That this man's melodramatic antics could have killed my daughter." He rubbed his jaw. The room was silent. "I also remember that that month you talked of his music long after you had stopped talking of his fire."

Nataly smiled a little and her eyes softened. "Erik is a brilliant composer, papa. Also an artist, a craftsman—"

"—with no name and barely a face," Erik interjected. "These are things that cannot be politely ignored." His voice was calm but it was plain he wished to get to the heart of the matter. He sat beside Nataly with dignity and composure. She was proud of him for that. His eyes were on her father.

"If I told you you would not be coming near my daughter ever again, what would you do?" her father asked him.

"I would do as your daughter wished," answered Erik in a hard voice. "So really, that is a question for her."

"Papa," Nataly reproached quietly.

"Let's say she tells you she never wishes to see you again," her father pressed.

"Then I am gone."

"But if she wished to see you and I did not want it, you would disobey my wishes."

"I should like to eventually come to know and respect you, Monsieur Benoit," said the ghost in their midst, "but at the moment I care very little for what you do or do not want. Your daughter's wishes, on the other hand, are everything."

"You have killed people," her father said in a hard voice. "I do not even know the number. People who have gotten in your way."

"Your son has killed as well. I knew the moment I saw the way he held a gun. Sometimes men must kill to live. Or to do their duty as they see it. There is nothing civilized or Christian about it, do not mistake me. But neither is it evil."

Nataly heard in Erik's voice and saw in his eyes the Phantom that had been such a fascination and mystery to her in the first months. He was cool courtesy with a sharp-edged bite. Calm, refined, witty, dark. Old fashioned and yet utterly unpredictable. The man he had been with her in these last few weeks had caused her to forget what kind of man he could be. How he could command a room with just the dark power of his voice. How he could match wits with anyone. How he could be frightening.

She did not reach out her hand to him. It would have taken away from his independence. He wished to come to her family as himself. As their sister or daughter's lover, but also as The Phantom of the Opera.

Both Leon's and her father's faces remained impassive.

"You have nothing to offer my daughter."

Nataly stared at her father in disbelief. He was being unconscionably rude to this man who was a guest in their home and her dearest love besides, and she half-hated him for it. She knew, however, that he was pushing this mystery of a man to see if there was any cruelty or malice to bring out of him.

"I have nothing to offer your daughter," the Phantom agreed. "I could say to you that I offer my protection. I could say I offer my talents, my time, my unadulterated love for her mind and soul and my devotion to her happiness. But all of that would likely sound like a poor attempt to smooth over the fact that no, Monsieur Benoit, I have nothing to offer your daughter."

Only someone who knew her father as she did would have been able to tell that he had liked that answer. Nataly relaxed somewhat. Leon was as stoic as his father. Sabine perched on the edge of her seat anxiously, but for once she was keeping her silence. She gave Nataly small, sympathetic smiles every half minute.

"And from the bit of your neck I can see," added her father coolly, "I see that that mask is hiding some sort of disgusting disfigurement."

Nataly held her breath in shock and mortification. I do not think I will be able to forgive him for this. Her father did not look to see her furious expression, however; his eyes were fixed on the man to her left.

"Yes, I am terrifyingly hideous, all agree," the Phantom replied. His voice was not exactly light, but it was far from the tone of exploding malice that Nataly had expected. "I happen to be of the opinion," he continued, "that everyone has a bit of ugliness, and some of mine just happens to be on the outside for the world to see. It's a difficult way to live, but perhaps a more honest way. And if you're all out of obvious failings of mine, Monsieur Benoit, we could add to this list that my toes are rather hairy and I am a horrendous cook."

Sabine laughed. She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle it as best she could. Even Leo allowed himself half a grin. Nataly was too anxious and angry with her father to find amusement in anything. The Phantom's expression remained emotionless and hard.

Her father rose from his chair and walked to the Phantom. The room fell silent again as he did so. He put his two weathered hands to either side of the masked face and kissed him solidly on the brow.

"Your brother," he said to Nataly when he had straightened, "the poor sot, will never be able to find anyone half so interesting, Nataly dear." He turned and began walking out. "I expect that wedding in a few months. In Montpellier or someplace. And we're telling your mother none of this. Ever. We're going to lie and lie. I am going to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Uncle!" Sabine called cheerily. "I love you!"

The stairs creaked from the middle of the house as he went up to his bedroom.

Nataly let out her breath in a choppy laugh in surprise and relief. She took a breath to say something, but the words stopped in her throat when she saw a tear slip down Erik's face in the firelight. She moved close to him and wiped it away with gentle fingers. She kissed his neck. That closeness was not enough for her, so she threw a leg over him and sat on his lap with her arms around his neck. His arms came up around her slowly and he held her.

Leon was smiling. He came over to stand next to them, a hand on his hip.

"Father was abominably rude," Nataly sighed. "I've never heard him be so rude before. I'm sorry about that, Erik."

"I've heard worse," he replied. He was not entirely able to keep emotion out of his voice.

"Father was rude and then father made him family," Leon corrected her. He looked Erik in the eyes. "He gave you his blessing."

"He baptized him, blessed him, joked, and went to bed," Sabine said, smirking.

Leon cleared his throat. "Anyway, now that that's decided, I think I'll be getting to bed as well."

"Yes," Sabine chirped quickly. "Me as well."

Leon fed the fire a log or two more and then he and his cousin melted away to give the two of them some privacy. Almost as soon as they had left, Erik allowed himself to actually weep with emotion as he had not allowed himself to do before. Nataly held him fiercely. His tears stopped after a brief time.

She kissed him gently. "Everything will be alright now, my love," she said, smiling with the relief and contentment she felt. "All is well, mon fantôme. My family is yours now." More of his tears came at that; Nataly kissed them away. "It will be you and I now, always, mon amour. Will you stay with me?"

"Until the end of reckoning, ange doux," he whispered.

.

La fin.