Chapter Two: Whispers

It had been almost six months since that infamous night in the opera house – a night that Christine relived constantly in her mind, yet gave intimations to no one that such thoughts plagued her without end. Her life had been altered drastically, as she was no longer the talented young ingénue of the renowned Opera Populaire, but rather only the wife-in-waiting to a member of high society. Each day was filled with endless parties and balls; teas and wedding planning. The brightness of Paris outside the opera house overwhelmed Christine, who spent most of her time on the arm of the Vicomte de Chagny, a man to which she owed her life. Although her prince had done everything humanly possible to prove his love for her, she could not help feeling something missing, as if a hole was being dug deeper and deeper into her heart with each passing day. Her lips had not open in song since that night, as her voice seemed to be constricted by the heaviness of her own heart. Yet it was not love for Raoul that caused such torment, but rather the thoughts of dark figure looming in her past. She hated herself because of it, yet there were no ways to erase the painful memories. The only way she knew to set things right and free her own soul was to marry Raoul, a man who loved her with staggering force.

Countless times throughout the day, Christine would form images in her mind of what her angel was doing at that very moment, the poor creature! Lurking in the shadows of the ruined opera house; sitting in front of a shattered organ; hovering over the streets of Paris, whispering her name. Christine…come to me angel of music…

It was during one of these moments that a pair of lips brushed across her gloved hand, jolting her back into reality.

"I apologize for interrupting your thoughts, my love, although you seemed to be more in a trance. Have you heard even a word I have said to you all morning?" Raoul asked with a rakish grin and boyish laugh. The pair had been strolling the streets for a while, but Christine had barely uttered a word since they left the De Chagny's grand chateau. Most of the time was filled with Raoul's incessant chatter about their future life together, their beautiful home they would soon inhabit, and the dozens of children they would have to fill the all of the rooms. The streets of Paris were crowded with people of all classes, although much more room was given allowance for the vicomte and his fiancée to pass by than an impoverished, crippled mother holding her newborn and leading her two older children. Christine looked at the struggling family, thinking for a fleeting moment how uncompassionate this wicked world is. Breaking from Raoul's grasp, she quickly turned on her heels to slip a large gold coin from her silk satchel into the small, dirtied hand of one of the children. The child stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed and bewildered, then turned to show his mother the gift that would feed them for a week. Although the woman's head was partially covered with heavy muslin to conceal a marred and disfigured face, possibly from a fire or other tragedy, Christine could still see her cheeks glisten with tears and a beautiful smile break over her unsightly features at the act of kindness.

"Forgive me, Raoul. I fear I have not been myself today." Christine finally answered as she rejoined the vicomte.

"I can see that." He replied, frowning at her impulsive action. "You know you really mustn't give to these criminals, my dear. They will take money from you one moment and then murder you in your bed the next, the filthy riffraff. This great city is filled with far too many of them. I do wish parliament would take some action on the matter."

Christine's heart dropped. Yet before she had a chance to respond to his callous remark, he spoke once again after stopping them abruptly.

"Oh, one moment, my dear. I have business with this gentleman here. I will be but a moment. You will be alright?"

"Of - Of course." She nodded a bit hesitantly. He hurried over to the mouth of an alley, where an imposing, smooth-headed Frenchman with a mustache and dark suit gave him a curt nod and discreet handshake through his heavy cape. Christine moved from the busy street to stand across the way from where the two stood. After speaking for only a few moments, she watched Raoul remove a sealed envelope from his jacket pocket and hand it to his acquaintance. The man rifled through the envelope with a contended smile, then gripped Raoul's hand again in agreement. Christine strained to hear what she could of the conversation over shouting children and heavy carriages moving down the cobblestone path. What parts she did hear Raoul say, however, left her extremely unsettled.

"Do what you must, monsieur…money is not an issue…if there is no blood, there is no gain - I said that from the very beginning… continue until I tell you otherwise…"

The older gentleman nodded again in agreement, then quickly took his leave. Raoul spent a brief moment to collect himself as he smoothed out his jacket and took a deep inward breath before turning to locate Christine.

"Ahhh…there you are!" They met each other again in the middle of the street. He again grasped her hand possessively and led her along at an even brisker pace than before.

"Who was that, Raoul?" Christine asked with innocent worry.

"It was nothing."

"It had to be something. Please, tell me."

"Trust me, Christine. Just put the thought from your head." She was now having difficulty matching his long, heavy strides with her short, light, dancer steps.

"But Raoul…"

Stopping her sharply, his grip tightened severely as he placed his hand on her slender wrist. She winced at the bruise the vice began to form.

"We will not speak of this again, Christine." His teeth remained clenched as he spoke. "I am soon to be your husband, and you should respect me and my wishes as a wife properly should. As my wife properly should!"

Turning her head to hide the tears that quickly sprung to her eyes, she nodded rhythmically. "Very well." The words were choked as she tried to repress her inward sobs.

After calling a carriage to take them back home, Raoul did not utter a word to his fiancée. Christine was left to sit in uncomfortable silence, turning over the recent events in her head to make some sense of it. Although she did not know what, something was terribly wrong. His stony demeanor sent a chill down to the very core of Christine's heart. This was not the same man she knew as a child, or even a few months ago. Yet it was only at strange instances did you ever lose his temper with her. Only a few weeks ago, he had struck her for the first time because she wanted to visit Meg, her dearest and only friend. She touched the right side of her face with sadness, still stinging from the shock of the blow. Yes, some form of madness had driven him to this point of cruelty towards her, but what could it be?