Author's Note: I apologize for the delay. I was on vacation last week to the Dominican Republic, and the hotel there restricted your internet usage in hopes that you would fork out more money. Thank you all for being so patient and understanding. Once again, a special thanks goes to: macymay201, Alana Fox, login password, and dracowillbeloved for the lovely reviews! Enjoy!
"The dinner was simply exquisite. You have a wonderful cook," Christine complimented. It had been the best meal she had ever had, which included a couple of dinners at the de Chagny estate.
Madame Bouchard smiled and responded, "Our cook has been professionally trained in Paris and can cook anything you request. We were very specific with the qualifications necessary for us to hire someone. No one here is without qualifications, you know. Being of our high status, we must have standards even in the most trivial of positions."
"Naturally," Christine responded without really meaning what she said.
By now, Christine was very familiar with Madame Bouchard's personality and no longer bothered by it. Madame Bouchard was a proud woman who had an ear for any and all gossip and had proven that when she had the entire town buzzing about the story behind Erik's mask in the matter of days. By the end of the week, everyone knew theoretically what lied underneath the mask, and they had begun to stop staring at Erik when he and Christine went into town for errands. They had come to accept him as a hero for his deformation – not a monster. Although Erik never commented on it, Christine knew that he noticed it as well. He was becoming regarded as normal even with the mask on.
Suddenly, Monsieur Bouchard grabbed her attention. "… heard today from one of the workers that you noticed a flaw in the aqueducts being designed. Did you work construction while in Paris?"
"I had several jobs in Paris," Erik explained. These white lies had become quite normal for the two of them, and Christine didn't even blink an eye anymore when a new one appeared. "Architecture was one of my pastimes. I enjoyed designing and came to understand how to construct numerous structures. It was merely by chance that I noticed the flaw. By no means am I a master architect."
Monsieur Bouchard intervened, "Even so, many of the men would like for you to work with them on the aqueducts. They were hoping you could take over the project since none of them actually know what they're doing. Our previous master architect passed away, you see, with no one to succeed to his position, so many of his apprentices have been fighting for the position to no avail. Each man has a different idea of what the aqueducts should look like, and they're all much too arrogant to put aside their differences. If they did so, they view it as losing the chance to be master architect, because the designer of these aqueducts will most likely earn the position. However, we need these aqueducts fixed before storm season rolls around, which it is bound to soon. Our current ones are on their last legs, and we fear they won't hold up for another season."
Shaking his head, Erik responded, "I'm not qualified to lead such a project, good monsieur."
"You're the only man who can lead this project," Monsieur Bouchard countered. His strong voice reflected his confidence in that statement. "The apprentices of the previous master architect have split the workforce completely, forcing each worker to choose a side to be on. All the workers do now is hope they chose the right person to follow. Under one strong man, though, the workers would fall in line as well as the power-hungry apprentices. You already have the respect of the town, monsieur, because of your sharp eye and wit, and I would vouch for you every step of the way. No one would dare object if you took up the position."
Clearly still unsure, Erik lifted his wine glass to his lips in order to take a sip. It was a good tactic to stall for time. Meanwhile, Christine couldn't help but notice just how great of an opportunity this would be for Erik. By working with the people of Soissons, he would become a pillar of the community. He would start forging more friendships and making more connections with others. And he would be forced to learn and use social etiquette instead of his normal manhandling in order to get what he wanted. And he was passing this wonderful opportunity right up! "If I may," she began, politely inserting herself into the conversation, "I believe it's a marvelous idea." She made eye contact with Erik and offered him a small smile of encouragement.
"It's settled then," Erik finally said, placing down his glass. His eyes held hers a moment longer before he turned to face Monsieur Bouchard again. "If there is no objection, I will take lead on this project. However, I will only promise to work this one. I am by no means taking the position of master architect."
Smiling broadly, Monsieur Bouchard slapped his knee and exclaimed, "Outstanding! I'm glad to hear it. We'll go into town tomorrow and get everything organized for Monday."
"Shall we move into the parlor room?" Madame Bouchard inquired, cutting into the conversation. Dinner was done, and the servants needed to clean up the dining room.
Monsieur Bouchard rose to his feet. "I believe we shall!" he responded, drinking the last of his wine. Slowly, Erik stood up and set his napkin on the table.
Christine also rose to her feet at Madame Bouchard's bequest, and she was ushered into the parlor room. Her eyes rested on the piano for a second too long. "Can you play the pianoforte?" the Madame inquired, her eyes glittering.
"I'm afraid not. Only Erik can play," Christine responded truthfully. "My talents lie elsewhere."
Turning on her heels, Madame Bouchard boisterously said, "Madame de Rouen just told me that you can play the pianoforte, monsieur. Would you mind entertaining us for a bit?"
"Not at all," Erik answered, nodding his head and smiling. Christine couldn't help but notice how he had become much more comfortable in social situations over the last week. It was astounding the changes she was seeing in him. In all honesty, it was as if a burden had been lifted off him. Because people treated him differently here, he was a different man. Christine couldn't believe she had never seen this side of him before. Suddenly, she noticed his smile become mischievous. "But only if my lovely wife would care to sing for us as well."
Surprised, Christine laughed as she heard this. She hadn't sung for an audience since– Stopping herself, she pushed back that memory from surfacing, and her laugh faded. It didn't matter when she had last sang. All she knew is that it felt like it had been forever. Finally, she answered, "I would be honored to sing."
Walking over to the piano, Erik sat down. "What shall I play for you, my dear?" he asked Christine, looking over at her.
"Faust would be well known enough, don't you agree?" she asked.
Erik nodded. "Marguerite's aria from Act Three?" he clarified, his hands hovering over the keyboard.
As soon as Christine gave him the affirmative nod, he began playing the song from memory. It didn't surprise Christine that he could. After all, Faust had been performed so many times at the Opera Populaire that she could sing the aria without ever having played the role of Marguerite. Christine began singing, her voice ringing back to her and surrounding everyone in the room. Flawlessly, she hit the high notes, used vibrato during the parts she felt it was needed, and never missed a note. Both Monsieur and Madame Bouchard sat with their mouths open as they listened to her sing and Erik play. Clearly, they had not been expecting for such a performance. Her final note reverberated off the walls and echoed in the room just before Erik played the final keys. As soon as the song was over, both Monsieur and Madame Bouchard began clapping their hands. Flushing, Christine curtsied. She had forgotten just how rewarding it was to be praised and acknowledged for her ability to sing.
"Your singing is seraphic!" Monsieur Bouchard exclaimed.
Madame Bouchard demanded, "You must sing for us once more."
Upon their behest, Christine sang again… and again… and again. She allowed herself to be drawn into the song just like old times. At points, she forgot even where she was. All she could hear was Erik's playing and her own voice. As she was in the middle of her fourth song, though, a boom of thunder broke her concentration. Startled, Christine stopped singing and glanced back at Erik to find him on his feet. Monsieur Bouchard also leapt up and called out to his servants. Three of them appeared in the doorway upon hearing the summons.
"Where are my sons?" he demanded to know.
Pierre was the first to respond. "In their bedrooms, my lord."
"And the horses?" Erik intervened, just stepping next to Monsieur Bouchard.
"In the stables," Pierre informed him. "Several stable hands are running about and securing the stables and stalls."
Erik said, "I was told by the previous owner that Diable has a tendency to be skittish during storms. Take extra precaution while around him."
"I will inform the stable hands immediately, monsieur," Pierre stated as he nodded his head. Then he turned to Monsieur Bouchard. "Is there anything else, my lord?"
After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Prepare the master suite. I'm afraid that Monsieur and Madame de Rouen will have to stay the night tonight."
"Very well, my lord," Pierre acknowledged before quickly walking away.
"I thank you, Monsieur Bouchard," Erik stated, making the older male turn to face him. Christine stood just behind her husband, so he turned slightly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We will leave as soon as the storm lets up."
Madame Bouchard quickly intruded, "It's no trouble at all, my dears! And you simply must stay for breakfast. After all, it's been too long since we had any guests. Isn't that right, Isaac?"
"That's quite right, Mathilde," Monsieur Bouchard concurred.
Christine smiled softly and said, "We are very grateful."
Suddenly, Pierre appeared in the doorway once more. "The suite has been prepared," he announced.
"I believe it wise for us to settle in for the night," Erik stated, looking down at Christine.
Monsieur Bouchard nodded in agreement. "Pierre will escort you to your room. Breakfast will be at seven if that is agreeable with you," he responded.
"Very much so," Erik said. "Thank you for your hospitality and good night."
"Good night," Christine said to the Bouchards as she and Erik slipped out of the room.
They followed Pierre up the staircase and down the hall. Stopping outside one door, Pierre turned to them. "This is your room, Monsieur de Rouen," he said.
"My room?" Erik echoed.
Nodding, Pierre explained, "The master suite consists of two bedrooms separated by a bathroom. Your bedroom, monsieur, is through this door. The Madame's bedroom will be through the door just down the hall."
Christine straightened up as she realized she would be in her own bed tonight. She hadn't truly slept alone since they had married, and it felt as if it had been an eternity. All of the sudden, Erik's voice drifted into her thoughts. "Very well. Thank you, good monsieur, and good night," he said, opening the door and closing it behind him.
Pierre took five steps, which required seven steps for Christine, before making it to the next door. Opening it for her, Pierre bade her good night as she stepped into the room before closing the door behind her. Christine looked about the room in admiration. Its warm tones were soothing and complimented the dark mahogany wood. The bed was as large as the one she and Erik slept at home. Flopping onto the bed, Christine let out a long sigh as she buried her face into one of the pillows. A rapping on her chamber door, though, made her shoot out of the bed in an instant.
"Come in," she called out, wondering who it could possibly be.
Very slowly, the door opened to reveal a small maid standing on the other side. "I'm here to help you, Madame," she said in a timid voice.
"I could use some help getting out of this dress," Christine stated, giving her a friendly smile.
Without saying another word, the maid slipped into the chambers and began to unlace Christine. As soon as her dress fell to the ground, Christine let out a large breath and relaxed. One of the best parts of her day was getting out of whatever dress she had been squeezed into earlier that day. The maid collected the dress from the ground and folded it before placing it on the table in the room. After making sure there was nothing else she could do, the maid showed Christine where the servant bell was before leaving. Christine headed for bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next three days. For some reason, Christine found socializing quite draining. After galas, she was exhausted and would sometimes sleep fourteen hours straight. Once, Madame Giry thought Christine had died because she slept so long.
Relaxing in her bed, Christine shifted to become comfortable. She only remained comfortable for a minute or so, though, before she felt the need to shift again. Restless, she tossed and she turned, but no matter what, something always felt off. Christine opened her eyes and was exasperated. Despite the fact that she was dead on her feet, she couldn't sleep. It wasn't the bed for it was comfortable and large. The temperature of the room was just right. The storm, although still raging, wasn't so loud that it kept her awake. Nothing was wrong. Suddenly, Christine realized what was off: Erik wasn't there. She had gotten used to and comfortable sleeping with him. In all actuality, it made her feel safer to be with him than alone.
Christine looked at the door that would lead her to Erik's room. Shifting a bit, she wondered if she should go to him. He might have been just as excited to sleep alone for a night. After all, he hadn't objected to sleeping in different beds. On the other hand, Christine knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him by her side. She got up, and her feet pattered quietly against the cold, stone floor. Very carefully, she opened the door into the bathroom. The lack of light made her nearly blind, but she managed to find the door on the other side. She opened it slowly and called out in a soft voice, "Erik?"
"What is it?" came a response. Although she couldn't see anything, Christine could hear the rustling of the bed sheets.
"Did I wake you?" she asked nervously.
"Not at all," Erik answered. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see a large figure sitting upright in the bed. "Is everything alright?"
For a second, Christine almost lost her nerve. She bucked up, though, and inquired, "Would you mind it terribly if I slept with you tonight?"
"Not at all," came Erik's warm reply.
At hearing this, Christine closed the door behind her and swiftly crossed the room. She clambered into bed next to him, and Erik resituated himself before pulling her close to him. As soon as she felt the physical contact, Christine relaxed completely and closed her eyes. Involuntarily, she placed her arm over his own. After a long moment of silence, Christine asked, "Did I really not wake you up?"
"Not at all," Erik informed her nonchalantly.
After a moment's pause, Christine pressed, "May I inquire as to why you were awake?"
"You may," Erik said.
He didn't respond further after he said that, so Christine let out a small sigh before asking, "Why were you awake?"
"Because I cannot sleep without you next to me," he told her.
Much to her own surprise, Christine felt her heart skip a beat as she heard this. "Why didn't you come to me then?" she queried, wishing she could see his face.
Erik said, "Because you needed to realize that you could not sleep without me by your side either."
Christine became still. She had found his lack of objection strange, but she had never thought that it was part of a plan. He had wanted confirmation that she was becoming attached to him, and it shocked Christine that not only had it worked, but it had forced her to realize her changing feelings for him. As Erik changed, her feelings for him did as well. He wasn't the same man in the catacombs of the opera house anymore. Could it be that she was beginning to truly fall in love with him? She hadn't thought it possible before, but that was before he had become sociable, friendly, and somewhat relaxed. Now, she was starting to see a chance. A question struck her mind, and she asked it without hesitating, "What if I hadn't come? What would you have done?"
"I would have held you just like this tomorrow night when we were in our own bed," he told her matter-of-factly. "And I would have waited for that day when you did need me."
Astonished, Christine took a moment to draw in this new information. She had never known Erik to be a truly patient man. That wasn't to say that he had no patience at all, but his patience had a tendency to wear thin quickly. For Christine, though, he was clearly willing to wait. Whether it be for a night or a fortnight, he was now willing to put in the time. Christine smiled to herself and subconsciously nestled a bit closer to Erik. He was a different man. Closing her eyes, Christine felt him tuck her head underneath his chin. She felt comfortable there, wrapped in his arms, and she fell asleep without a single problem.
