Chapter Text
VAIN Love, why do'st thou boast of Wings,
That cannot help thee to retire!
When such quick Flames Suspicion brings,
As do the Heart about thee fire.
Still Swift to come, but when to go
Thou shou'd'st be more–Alas! how Slow.
Lord of the World must surely be
But thy bare Title at the most;
Since Jealousy is Lord of Thee,
And makes such Havock on thy Coast,
As do's thy pleasant Land deface,
Yet binds thee faster to the Place
-Jealous, Anne Kingsmill Finch
Erik did not encounter Meg when he went to town to buy the fabric he needed for both his and Hasan’s costumes. It was an uncomfortable and - though he will never admit to it - lonely errand. People ended up staring at him for too long while he was making the needed purchases and whenever he caught them looking, they would turn away as if trying to pretend they were not gawking at him in the first place. When he was unable to catch sight of Meg, Erik simply rushed through the rest of his shopping, hailed a cab and made his way back to their house. No doubt she was with Loretta trying to finish that dress she was to make for the masquerade.
Which would mean he would not be able to have dinner with her either.
Erik frowned at the thought and tamped down the rise of an emotion he knew all too well. Jealousy. Though he was more familiar with this emotion overcoming him during his obsession with Christine, he felt that this jealousy had a difference from the all-consuming sort. Still, he pushed it as far back from his mind as he could and tried to reassure himself that what was important was that Meg had made friends, the sort that appeared to want to constantly be by her side. Which might mean Meg would have less time for him. Which should be fine for him.
Sighing, he rapped his knuckles against the roof of the cab to signal the driver to stop. Tipping the driver handsomely - a habit he developed when Hasan began doing so after seeing how little people earned during these times - Erik stepped out and went to the home that was apparently a gift to him and his wife by M. Baker. Granted, he was trying to think of a way to get the old man to retract the gift but by far, he was more stubborn than Erik had been in regards to everything.
The house was lit and he could already smell dinner being cooked. He hoped it was Meg who had cooked, but he knew the silhouette in the kitchen all too well and he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. At least he would not be alone for the night.
‘Is Hasan here?’ Erik asked, entering the kitchen and taking out the plates in order to help Hélène as much as he could. ‘I’ve bought the fabric for the masquerade and I would need to make sure that the fabric would suit his skin tone in person and not just in theory.’
Hélène turned her head slightly to look at him from the corner of his eye and she nodded.
‘Hasan is in the library, though he asked not to be disturbed regarding anything about the masquerade.’ The older woman replied, amusement colouring her voice. ‘I think he wants you to postpone anything about costumes tonight.’
Erik huffed and rolled his eyes. Trust Hasan to despise anything about staying still if it wasn’t for the pursuit of further literary knowledge. Granted, he respected Hasan’s scholarly interests and the fact that he was a well-read man only served to add further to his credit. But if he wanted to have this all be over with, then it would be best for him to take a breath and take the plunge. Besides, it wasn’t him that would be making the attire he would be donning that day. Though he wished for nothing more than to drag Hasan out of the library and get everything over with, Erik simply nodded.
‘I’m assuming Meg might not make it to dinner.’ He added as he set the plates on three places of the table, missing the concerned look his mother-in-law threw his way.
‘And why on earth would she miss dinner?’ Hélène asked, her brows creasing.
‘I believe she is with her new friend, Madame Thatcher, Monsieur Baker’s daughter.’ Erik explained as he began gently arranging the cutlery beside the plates. ‘And seeing as she is not yet here, I have no doubt whatsoever that Madame Thatcher had asked Marguerite to stay with them for dinner.’
‘Well, you’re quite correct on one of those assumptions of yours.’ The older woman replied, her tone wry and amused. ‘Meg is with Madame Thatcher.’ Hélène said casually as she stirred the pot of stew she was cooking. ‘As well as Madame Thatcher’s husband.’
Erik froze.
He looked at Hélène who did not seem to be paying attention to him. She was only tasting her cooking and adding a few spices here and there before leaving the stew to boil for a bit longer. It was only when she had done that that the older woman turned her focus upon Erik.
‘Though Meg did say she will try to be back on time for dinner.’ She finished simply, taking the rest of the dinnerware from the Phantom.
‘Meg is here?’ He asked, his voice lost for a moment before gathering himself once more. ‘Where?’
Hélène looked at him with an unreadable expression. For a moment, Erik wanted to demand what it was his mother-in-law was looking at him for but he stayed his tongue.
‘She and Madame Thatcher had been escorted to Phantasma by Monsieur Thatcher.’ The ballet instructor told him.
Erik sucked in a sharp breath before nodding.
‘I shall meet her there then.’ He said decisively. Setting down the rest of the dinnerware, Erik went out of the dining room and snatched his overcoat.
He knew he had been busy enough with preparing the performance hall for Meg but he had hoped to show Meg the lively chaos of the night stalls and games that Phantasma had to offer for the common folk. To know that someone else might be touring her through the amusement park he had developed, there was something that unsettled the Opera Ghost at the mere thought of it.
Shrugging on his coat, Erik began making his way to Phantasma’s blaring lights.
Meg was not in any of the stalls he had thought to take her to the first time.
Muttering oaths under his breath, Erik drew up his overcoat tighter and tried to move past the throngs of people that were milling about laughing and shouting to be heard over the din of voices. Gritting his teeth, Erik manoeuvred himself past the crowds and into the open space where some food stalls had been set up. Brushing off any dust that had gathered on his clothes, Erik continued his search for his wife.
It wasn’t until he had gotten to the aisle where the games of strength had been placed that he caught sight of her familiar golden curls.
Speeding up his steps, Erik smiled when he caught sight of Meg’s face, she was smiling and even trying to hide her laugh by bringing her hand up to hide her mouth. She tended to do that when she was in what she considered “polite company”. Of course, seeing as she was in the company of M. Baker’s daughter, Erik was not surprised she would act that way though he found the young lady to be somewhat blunt in comparison to noblewomen he had had the displeasure of witnessing in the darkness of his opera box.
‘Meg!’ He called out to his wife, smiling when she turned her head towards him.
Meeting her gaze, he caught the surprise in her eyes before she made her way to him as well.
‘Erik, I didn’t think you would be here.’ She greeted him, embracing him for a short moment. ‘Mama told me you were out doing errands.’
‘I finished early.’ He replied, omitting the fact that he had some hopes of finding her in town. ‘Your day was productive, I hope?’
Meg shrugged slightly. ‘Loretta had insisted on supplying me with any and all fabrics for both my gown and Mama’s and then she and her husband told me they will show me around Phantasma.’
‘I was hoping to do that for you.’ Erik replied, his brow rising. ‘Frankly, I find it quite insulting that you could not even wait for me.’
Meg giggled and Erik smiled, relaxing at the fact that Meg knew him to only be jesting. Though he was not lying that he would have preferred it more if he had been the one to take her round Phantasma but to see her with her new friends, it was somewhat heartening for him. He was not keen with making new friends for he was content with what he had - Hasan was enough for him - but Meg was social and she clearly needed more friends to help her adjust.
‘I pray Madame Thatcher had been treating you kindly here?’
Meg blushed and nodded, looking at the ginger-haired young woman who had noticed Meg’s sudden departure from her company and was looking at him with a strange expression. In the fiery-haired woman’s arms was a stuffed bear. Erik knew that prize, he saw it being set up for the hammer game and he scoffed.
‘I am assuming Madame Thatcher’s husband won that prize for her?’ Erik asked, nodding to the bear.
As if hearing her husband being brought into the discussion, the young woman approached them with a smile on her face.
‘Mister Erik.’ She greeted with a small bob of a curtsy. ‘I thought you were busy.’ She said as she looked at Meg curiously.
‘Erik finished his errands.’ Meg explained, her hands coming to rest on his arm that he had offered her. ‘I was thinking he might join us for the rest of the night?’ She suggested hesitantly.
Erik stiffened at the thought of being included just because Meg suggested it.
‘I would rather wait for you at home.’ He lied. He wanted to spend some more time with her, show her around, but with Madame Thatcher, he did not know how amenable they would be to him monopolising his wife’s company.
‘Nonsense.’ Loretta cut in. ‘Freddy and I were just worried Meg might be getting neglected so to see you here? That’s a relief to see!’ The ginger told him before going back to the crowd and calling for someone.
‘Monsieur Thatcher was insistent on playing the game again.’ Meg explained when Erik looked at his wife curiously. ‘He said he’d like to test his luck.’
‘And it seems my luck had won another bear!’ Came the response of a smiling young man who seemed to be of African descent. ‘Here you go, Meg!’
Looking at Meg, Erik noticed the blush dusting her cheeks as she accepted the stuffed bear given to her.
‘Oh, Frederic, you didn’t need-’
‘A friend of Lori’s is a friend of mine too.’ The young man replied easily. ‘Besides, you seemed so withdrawn when we’re out here. When you smiled while watching us play games, I figured this is perfect!’
Erik watched as Meg accepted the gift and held the bear close to her. The jealousy he felt reared itself back up once more and Erik clenched his jaw. He did not understand it nor did he wish to but he did know that he wanted to at least show Meg that she needn’t feel neglected or ignored. As far as he knew, they were quite alright.
‘Have you seen the ropeladder game?’ Erik asked, looking at Meg.
His wife shook his head, a smile already on her lips. ‘Will you show it to me, Erik?’ She asked him.
‘If you will allow me.’ He murmured.