Spanish Angel (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 8

Please read Author's Note at the bottom.

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"Well, how do I look?" Candela asked as she turned in a small circle in front of Erik who was seated on the settee in the parlor. "Not too horrible, I hope?" A light smile teased her mouth and he merely responded with a shrug.

"I've seen worse." The irritable Phantom replied, giving her attire no more than a passing glance. For the whole evening, he had been unexplainably bad tempered and Candela attributed it to a waning of his inspiration. As soon as it bottomed out and began to rise again, he would return to his almost genial self again.

"Quite a compliment out of you." She rolled her eyes and breezed out of his presence to find her white gloves and make sure she was completely ready to go out for the evening. As she passed by the mirror in her room, she paused and turned to look at herself, smiling and turning so she might see her whole form.

"Candela, you don't look too bad." She remarked, brushing her fingers over the purple velvet of her skirts before tugging on her gloves and flexing her hands in them. They were, like the entire ensemble, new items for her. Even on her outing as a middle class gentleman's wife, she kept the least amount of underclothing as possible. Yet, to be considered proper enough to attend an Opera, everything was required from the chemise to the garniture (of which the later, she had reduced as much as politely possible).

With a glowing smile, she scooped up her fan and strode from the room, making her back into the parlor and towards the front door. Glancing around, she found herself once again alone as the Phantom seemed to have made his escape into his room.

With a shrug, she gathered her skirts about her and made her way quickly to the surface where she called a cab to take her the last little ways to the steps. One must put on a good show after all.

E-OC

As the Marquis's carriage rolled to a halt, his servant appeared beside the door and folded down the steps so he could disembark smoothly. Glancing about, he saw a lovely lady in white and purple standing beside one of the gargoyles.

"Mademoiselle de la Vega." He whispered to himself as he approached the dark haired beauty and addressed her to her face. The girl turned to face him and a smile spread across her face.

"Good evening, Marquis de Bonnaire." She dropped a polite curtsy as he bowed to her and then offered his arm.

"And, the same to you as well. Shall we go in?" Her courteous nod and genteel way of accepting his arm and walking beside him caused him to, for several moments, consider if she was one of the untitled nobles. Ever since the French Revolution, titles had, to some degree, gone by the wayside, families only keeping them for pride's sake.

After presenting their tickets to the doorman, they were, for the most part, unnoticed through the throngs of people chatting in the Grand Foyer. Jules allowed the young lady a moment to admire her surrounding as she seemed quite enamored with the beauty of the place. The Palais Garnier had always been one of the crowning jewels of Paris and it was for a reason.

Despite having lived beneath the mighty building, Candela had never see the place above the surface. The richly pained floors, gold-covered statues, and the intricate walls décor was all pleasantly assaulting to her eyes. Capped with the sweeping staircase leading away from her and the Marquis, it was a sight well worth the seeing.

"It's so beautiful!" She exclaimed, turning to face her escort and smiling widely at him for the first time since their arrival. The Marquis reveled a moment in the light of her smile before guiding her towards the staircase.