As always, thank you all for your kind reviews from all of you, veterans and newbies alike! :) In this chapter you will see if your guess on the song was correct! ;)
I'm going to annoy you for a moment longer:
I'm looking for a specific E/C fic, but for the life of me I can't find it. I have written in the forum 'EC Forever' under Books - POTO, but I haven't got a reply yet. Maybe some of you know what I'm searching for. :)
Enough talking, ON WITH THE FIC. :)
Chapter 9 - Dinner at McNeil's, part 2
When Isabelle asked Christine to sing, Erik froze on the spot. He didn't want to hear her sing, it would only bring back bad memories for the both of them. He wasn't sure what he'd feel if she started singing; hearing her sweet voice could send him back into the darkest recesses of his soul or it could very well be his salvation. When their eyes met, he could clearly see she was reluctant as well, a hint of apprehension in her eyes as she clasped her hands and wrung her fingers in trepidation. He recognized her lifelong nervous habit from the Opera, taken aback about how much he still remembered about her and that her new life as the Vicomtesse de Chagny wasn't able to completely erase her mannerisms.
When Isabelle took Christine's hands and turned her around, his gaze was directed at the back of her head. It was only Isabelle's remark about Christine's teacher that nearly made him chuckle; instead he chose to let a wry smile touch his lips. If only she knew. He sighed, a soft sound he was sure nobody but Christine heard. He gripped his glass tightly, almost breaking the fragile stemware in a desperate attempt to keep his calm. He was tense, every muscle in his body felt stiff and his breathing quickened.
Much to his dismay, the couple finally coerced Christine into singing. He sighed again and watched as she turned the pages thoughtfully, the slight tremble of her hand betraying her false calmness. She leaned down to whisper something to Isabelle's ear as she handed her the music score. From Isabelle's expression and despite his inner conflict, he became intrigued about Christine's choice. Turning his face to stare into the hearth, the mask was the only thing he let Christine see.
When Isabelle's fingers started to flow smoothly over the piano keys, his heart nearly stopped, recognizing the song right away. Naturally she'd choose this. His head snapped up and looked at the woman standing beside the piano. That's when she began to sing and the ache in his chest only intensified.
"Think of me, think of me fondly,
when we've said goodbye.
Remember me once in a while,
please promise me you'll try.
When you find that, once again, you long
to take your heart back and be free,
if you ever find a moment,
spare a thought for me."
She was stubbornly looking everywhere but at Erik, even though he was in her direct line of vision. He wasn't surprised; the song changed its meaning tonight and was too close for comfort. He remembered her standing on the stage in front of the managers, releasing a nervous breath before captivating the entire theatre company by her voice. The prolonged neglect of her vocal chords had indeed been detrimental to her voice and Erik couldn't help but hear every imperfection. Each of those felt like a little betrayal; they had spent numerous hours practising and molding her voice to perfection only for her to throw it away in the arms of her Vicomte. Now he finally understood why she never even considered auditioning. However, even without sufficient preparation, any theatre would take her without hesitation. Christine still outshined everyone even when her voice was unused for a long time.
"We never said our love was evergreen,
or as unchanging as the sea,
but if you can still remember
stop and think of me.
Think of all the things
we've shared and seen,
don't think about the way things
might have been.
Think of me, think of me waking,
silent and resigned.
Imagine me, trying too hard
to put you from my mind.
Recall those days
look back on all those times,
think of the things we'll never do,
there will never be a day,
when I won't think of you."
As she sang those wretched words, it was difficult not to think about what they had been through and what might have been had she not chosen the boy. Where would they be now?
"Flowers fade,
The fruits of summer fade,
They have their seasons, so do we
but please promise me, that sometimes
you will think of me."
The song didn't reach the original crescendo at the end; instead Christine chose to end it on a soft note that seemed to echo until it vanished completely, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. Isabelle was the first to break it, fixing her wide eyed stare to the singer's face.
"I had no idea you could sing like that. Even without the practise your voice is very good."
"I concur. Like a voice of an angel." Edward interjected in awe, smiling. Erik froze momentarily, looking around him if anyone noticed his discomfort. Thankfully the couple wasn't paying attention to him but the young former soprano in front of them. He only heard her mumbled 'thank you' and saw the rising blush in her cheeks.
"Your technique is immaculate, I have seen such only in professionally trained singers. Your tutor must have been very thorough." At isabelle's remark, Christine's eyes snapped to his. "I'd like to meet him, he seems to me like a true maestro."
"He is. The best teacher one could have." Erik nearly choked on the wine but masked it as a clearing of his throat. He never expected her to say those words, certainly not about him, and so he couldn't help but doubt her words. "Oh, I'm sorry, I never meant to offend you!" Christine put her hand on Isabelle's shoulder, clearly just now remembering the older woman was a music teacher as well.
"Oh nonsense, dear!" Isabelle laughed and the two women moved to sit on the sofa. Edward took the armchair again, while Erik remained rooted at the fireplace. His legs felt like lead. "I wonder, though, with your voice and proper training, you could easily become a diva in any theatre in the world. The Savoy is always looking for new talents, maybe you could audition. Erik?" Isabelle's green eyes settled on him and he was at a loss. What he could say to that, really? He was saved from reply when Christine spoke up, clearly unsettled by the turn of the conversation.
"Oh no, I couldn't. It's not for me. I do like the theatre and opera, but merely as a spectator." She gave him a cursory glance, trying to judge his reaction to her lie.
"Such a shame. If you like the theatre so much, Anna, maybe you'd like to accompany Erik to the grand opening at the Savoy in a week's time?" Edward chimed in and Erik closed his eyes momentarily, rubbing the exposed part of his forehead with his fingers in frustration. As if hearing her sing wasn't bad enough idea, visiting the theatre with her on his arm would be a disaster. He should have known that pretending not to know each other would never work. They had been through too much for both of them to simply just not care. This whole escort affair was a bad idea, what had possessed him to go for an escort service?
He dared to look at Christine, who was watching him silently, her face showing neither acquiescence nor refusal of this notion. He let out a long breath and his gaze settled on Edward's smiling face. There was a certain mischief in the older man's expression and Erik narrowed his eyes. He really should stop his friend from meddling with his life, especially where Christine was concerned.
"Oh yes, Anna, you must! I'm accompanying my husband, so it would be wonderful to have someone to talk to. I cannot stand the wives of these aristocrats. They are all so snobby, condescending and their only favourite past time is gossiping." Erik took a sip of the wine, hiding his wry smile in the glass. If only Isabelle knew she was talking with one of the French aristocracy! However, he knew that Christine would never be like one of those women, it wasn't in her nature as she hadn't been born into that world.
"Isabelle!" Edward exclaimed in a mock shock but winked at her, grinning.
"I'm only saying what everyone here is thinking. And I absolutely cannot stand the way these fat hens look at Erik, like he is some sort of viande juteuse*." Erik chuckled at Isabelle's overt indignation and walked to the sofa, gently placing his palm upon her shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Christine trying to suppress her laughter, while Edward just sat there, confused by the foreign words coming out of his wife's mouth.
"You should not get so upset, Isabelle. Those people will never change."
"I know." She sighed and then smiled at Christine, who managed to get her chuckling under control. "Will you please come? You will save Edward from a miserable wife and Erik from being hounded by those women."
"How can I say no to that?" Christine smiled widely, first at Isabelle and Edward and then at Erik. He acknowledged her with an upwards quirk of his lips. The mood between them shifted slightly, it was no longer as uncomfortable as before.
He had to admit that despite the worry about this outing, he was grateful as well, for he really loathed those women. Isabelle was correct with her statements, even with the way those women behaved around him. It really was a wonder how wealth and fame could make people look past the mask, yet not care about the person wearing it. There was a small 'hmmm' sound behind him and he spun around, only to see Edward with a thoughtful look on his face, staring into space. Erik's eyebrow arched high as he watched his friend. Suddenly his confused brown eyes snapped to Erik's as he asked with all seriousness.
"Did my wife just swear?"
The laughter of the three other people echoed around the vast house.
* viande juteuse = juicy meat
