Christine
"Madame, you have an extreme case of over exhaustion, and I strongly encourage you to take a break from performing for awhile. At least a month of rest in a peaceful setting will do you some good, and afterwards we will monitor your progress should you decide to come back to the theatre."
My eyes had gone wide at the doctor's prognosis. I was thankful that the ailment I had been plagued with was not more serious, however I knew that Erik would be furious when he found out what had come over me. "But doctor, surely I can come back in a few weeks, I was only unconscious for a short while."
"My dear, you have noticeably lost weight, and there are dark circles under your eyes. You are in no fit condition to be putting so much energy into rehearsing and performing. I understand that you reside in the country, so perhaps the fresh air will shorten your recovery time, but I cannot stress enough the importance of rest. Please consider your actions carefully."
I left the doctor's care feeling restless and uneasy. I found that when I was at rehearsals, it was as though I had my old life back before all of this chaos with Erik and Raoul. My poor Raoul. I found that it was extremely hard to try to overcome his death, that his young vibrant life was cut tragically short, and that in this situation it was my selfish actions that brought his untimely demise. When at our home beyond the city walls, I flitted aimlessly through the rooms, as if in a trance, somehow waiting for the day in which I would see a handsome youth gallop down the road, and to my delight I would find my childhood sweetheart riding bareback atop a noble steed. Still living in fairytales, even at the age of eighteen. I missed riding my horse around the vast acreage, the freedom I felt as I sped across the lawn and trotted down the forest paths. I had always wanted a horse as a child but father and I were too poor, and the horses at the opera house were for transportation or as props for the shows. It was too rainy today and I was in no fit condition to ride, adding to my sense of claustrophobia.
The house that Erik had purchased was grander than I could possibly have imagined, filled with expensive imported furniture and fine tapestries that rivaled the ones he had had in his old home underneath the opera house. He admitted that it was not in the best of conditions when initially sold to him, but he had commissioned the hardest working laborers to complete the job in such a short time period.
Erik was gone for the day, on site somewhere at one of his many building projects, and so I had to hail a carriage to bring me back to our estate. I climbed into the chasse and patiently sat during our brief journey out of town, tracing my fingers along the wooden windowpanes, lost in the cavernous dwelling of my memories. When the trip was over, the driver extended his hand so that I may step down, and after paying him, entered the house. However, as I began to remove my light outer garments, I suddenly had a feeling as though I were about to be sick, and barely made it to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach lurched from my mouth. I stood there for a few minutes, quivering with tears streaming down my face, before I turned on the faucet and slumped to the floor.
"This cannot be happening," I thought miserably to myself. "Please, do not let me be with child. I will never be able to have my freedom if Erik knows I am pregnant." But with a grim realization, I knew it to be true: I had missed my courses, and noticed that my corset seemed to be getting tighter. Still leaning against the counter, I pulled my knees to my chest, and began to quietly sob.
Erik
I returned home that night to find our maid, Marine, standing in the doorway, wringing her hands. I hung up my cloak and hat, and asked her what was the matter.
"It is Madame, she appears to have been taken ill. I heard a noise in the bathroom, and when I went to see, I found her on the floor, pale and crying. She was barely conscious, and when I fetched her some water, she appeared to have a fever." The words had hardly left the little blonde girl's mouth when I raced upstairs to her room. I flung the door open, and found my wife lying motionless in the vast layers of her bed. Her hair was scattered around her as though she had been tossing a fit, and the sheets were in disarray.
"Christine!" I whispered. "Christine, it is Erik. What is the matter, my darling, please wake up."
"No, it cannot be true, Erik," she muttered in a fever-induced trance.
"What, my love, what can't be true?"
"I cannot say," she said, turning away from me.
"Christine, know that I am here for you. There is nothing you can say that would make me think anything but love for you."
"Please, Erik, please don't hurt me." She pulled the covers up around her, and I backed slowly away from the bed. Ever since that horrible day when she and the boy attempted to flee, she walked around the house as though she were a ghost. Her appearance had changed drastically, and she lost weight. She spent many of her evenings perched on the parlor window ledge, as though she were waiting for the arrival of someone, and I could only guess as to who she was thinking. Each night I tore myself apart from what I had done to her, and I could only dream of one day making things better for us.
I exited her room, and once again found Marine waiting for me. "Perhaps there is something I can do for you, Master?"
"Watch over her. She appears to be upset with me over a situation that happened long ago between us. I am afraid I do not think there is anything that she will accept from me, but perhaps you can assist her. Stay by her side, and talk to her if she needs a confidante. I hate to ask you to be a spy, but please inform me of what is spoken between the two of you. I wish to make things better, and I feel that a third person will be of great assistance."
She shuffled her feet as though she hated to be a snitch, and I understood her predicament, however I needed things to be well again. "Yes, Master," she sighed. "Though I ask that I may use some discretion if necessary.'
"I will grant you that, Marine, but anything of utmost importance, please, keep me informed." She nodded, and I strode toward my quarters, eager for a brandy and the wooden body of my musical ivory lover.
Christine
I awoke in my soft feather bed, to find the late afternoon sun attempting to pierce the thick powder blue curtains of my room. I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember how I had gotten in bed when I felt a familiar nauseating feeling. I grabbed the vase of flowers next to my bed, and hastily throwing the daisies on the floor, once again vomited into the etched glass container. I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my dressing gown, and shakily got to my feet to rinse myself off with a rag and water basin. Once finished, I opened my wardrobe, selecting a burgundy dress and tidied my appearance as best I was about to head downstairs when I found Marine walking up the staircase with a bowl of broth and a towel draped over her arm.
"Oh, Madame, you are awake! You have been asleep for an entire day, and I must say that you needed it, based upon the condition I found you in."
"How did I get to my room? Did Erik find me?" I asked quizzically.
"No, I had Antoine, the cook, assist you. Are you feeling better, Madame?"
Blushing, I admitted what I had done to the vase in the room, and she smiled politely, saying that she would clean it up right away. She brought the tray down to the dining room and I sat in muted silence drinking the broth while she fixed up my room. I was glad to see the sun streaming through the windows after this long streak of horrid weather, and it actually seemed to be brightening my mood. That is until Erik walked in.
"Good morning, ma cherie, I am grateful to see that you are up and well," he said as he strode towards me.
"Why are you not at the office?" I asked nervously.
"I was so distressed to find that you had collapsed that I told the workers I would not be in until you were in better health. May I join you?"
"I-I guess," I said, returning to my soup.
"Are you sure you are feeling well, Christine?"
"I am cold, that is all. I will be fine, I just needed some rest based upon the doctor's orders." He reached out his hand to touch me and I instantly drew it back as my skin made contact with his. I looked up to find an overwhelming amount of pain in his eyes, and I instantly felt guilty for withdrawing from his compassionate gesture.
"I know you cannot forgive me for what I have done to you, but I would do anything to bring the sparkle back into your eyes. You have been like a shell walking around this place for the past month, and I am tortured by the atrocities that I have inflicted upon you. If there is any hope of you ever loving me again, please let me know now so that I may continue on with my life."
"Erikā¦." He broke out in sobs, fearful of the dreaded answer that he was anticipating. "Erik, I can never forget what you did to me after Raoul's death," the words nearly choked in my mouth as I finally admitted aloud what fate had befallen my lover. "Nor can I forgive what you did to him, however I have made a commitment to you that I shall never break. I am still mourning and I am still recovering, and when I shy away from your touch it is because I do not want to be held. I do not know if I can ever be intimate with you again, but I will stay by your side. Allow me to continue with the opera no matter what happens, and that will be the quickest way for me to recover."
"My dearest, you know that I would never ask you to give up your singing, and I wish for us never to speak of what happened back there in the basement again. I would take everything back if I was able, but alas I must live with the anger and the hurt for the rest of my life. Please, I just wish for you to at least resemble the beautiful girl that I once knew."
"I cannot promise that, Erik, but I will try."
