Hi everybody,

thank you all *so* much for reading, for adding to favorites, for putting on alert, and most of all, for reviewing! There have been a few new reviewers recently, who I want to welcome, namely QueenOfHearts3, Dkk5, and grandma paula, plus a nameless guest. Also, a heartfelt welcome to returning reviewer BadassSyd, good to have you back on board! And my warmest thanks to my loyal "have reviewed every chapter so far"-group, You Are Love, Filhound, MarilynKC and Ammaviel - you guys rock, and I promise that Erik will wake up soon - next week, it seems. ;-)

grandma paula, as to your question, I write mostly Phantom stories, at least here on I have published those exclusively. If you remember the old "Beauty and the Beast"-TV-series with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman, I regularly write one chapter for a "Round Robin" for the annual Winterfest-online in February, though I have to admit I write on the S3-one, which does not have Linda Hamilton's character. So, yeah, other than Phantom, that's mostly it, no published books or such, and most definitely no original stories.

Anyway, now on to our next chapter, and I promise you, the plot thickens... Just keep in mind that I do not own anything or anybody...

Chapter 10 – Where is she?

Mme. Giry greeted Raoul friendly, but a bit reserved. She had feared this encounter, expecting the Vicomte to be less than understanding of Christine's supposed desire to get away from everything for a while, so that she could come to terms with what had happened and find her peace of mind again. But then, maybe if that really had been the case, he would have understood. Maybe his lack of understanding had its roots in the fact that he sensed that there was something not quite right, something that the ladies were not telling him. She therefore knew she had to tread carefully around him. For neither did she want to arouse his suspicion that Erik might still be alive and somehow responsible for Christine's reluctance to marry her fiancé at once, nor did she want to turn Raoul off completely, just in case Erik was too far gone to make a recovery. In that case she wanted for Christine to still have the option of marrying the Vicomte.

She therefore welcomed Raoul and lead him to her parlor. Once she had made sure he was comfortably seated, she began, "my dear Vicomte, I know you have come to see Christine, but the case we have been talking about the last time, has happened. One of my friends has offered to take the dear girl in for a few weeks, so that she can have some change of scenery, which will hopefully help her put her mind at ease again. I am therefore afraid, you cannot see her today, for Christine is not here any longer. I sent her to live with my friend as soon as that letter arrived."

Raoul gritted his teeth. He did not like that development at all. "You sent her away without giving us a chance to say good-bye?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "Christine is my fiancée after all, she would have deserved a proper farewell, if – and mind you, my dear Mme. Giry, I am not really convinced that is the case – if such a separation were truly necessary. I still think that Perros would have been the perfect place for us to recover from this ordeal together, as a couple. As a married couple, that is."

Mme. Giry sighed. "I know, I know, Monsieur le Vicomte," she retorted, "and you may even be right about this. Unfortunately, Christine does not agree. She does not feel as if a quick wedding and a move to Perros would be helpful at the moment. She says she needs time alone, to herself, time to think about what has happened, to come to terms with it all."

She shook her head, trying to convey helplessness. "Do not think I do not understand that this attitude of hers must be hurtful to you," she continued. "For I do, and believe me, in a way I feel the same way, for she did not want me or Meg with her either. But I do love her deeply, and I understand that her needs must come first. That's why I let her go, even though it pained me to do so. After all, I have practically raised her. She came to the Opéra Populaire at the age of seven, orphaned, lonely, lost. I took her under my wings and over the years she became like my second daughter. She has been with me and Meg always, we have never been apart for even one night. I miss her terribly, and so does my Meg, but since we know that it is for her best to get some distance to everything – including all of us, that played a role in the drama – we granted her wish and let her go. Can you do the same for her, Monsieur le Vicomte?"

Raoul groaned. "It's that monster," he hissed. "He still has a hold on her. He will never let her go, her mind will never be free of him! If I were not so certain that he must have found his death in the flames – for how should he have been able to make his way undetected through the quickly forming crowd around the burning house? I mean, even me and Christine already had a hard time finding our way through the mass of patrons and performers, that had escaped from the burning building, members of the fire brigade and sensation-seeking bystanders. If he tried to escape at all, which I doubt, he must have been behind us. But with his face there is no way he would not have been recognized and either arrested or maybe lynched right away. Therefore, he must be dead, I am sure of it. But if I were not as convinced of this fact, I might actually be tempted to think that he has something to do with Christine's reluctance to marry me. That he is still somehow controlling her, forcing her to resist me, maybe biding his time until he can finally whisk her away from me for good!"

"Oh, Monsieur le Vicomte," Mme. Giry replied, pasting a somewhat forced smile on her face. "You truly have a vivid imagination. I am sure that if Christine's former tutor were still alive, he would not pursue her any longer. The way I understand it, and forgive me if I am wrong, but that's what Christine told me, is that he could have had her, that she had promised to stay with him, but once he realized that he had blackmailed her into that promise, he let her go and sent her away with you. Isn't that so? I mean, if he had wanted to keep her, why would he first send her away with you and then scheme behind your back to get her back somehow? That really does not make any sense. No, I think that your fear of Christine still being controlled by him, acting under some sort of spell he has cast upon her, is completely unfounded."

Her smile was genuine now, for she had told the truth. Deep down she knew that even if Erik were in any condition now to manipulate Christine, he would not do so. He would honor his decision to let her go with the Vicomte. If there was any chance of him and Christine ever getting together again, it would have to be Christine to take the initiative.

Raoul nodded. "You are right of course," he admitted, "but you must also understand how bad this delay of our wedding will look for her. That night has caused a lot of gossip, people who saw her perform with – him – talk about the way how she seemed to melt into his embrace, as if... you know, as if she wanted this. And when he took her with him through that trapdoor... people are wondering where they went, what they might have done there... and why we are now delaying our wedding. People are beginning to talk that I must have doubts about her purity..." He let his voice trail to make Mme. Giry fully grasp what he was implying.

"Anyway," he continued, "a quick wedding is therefore imperative, it would silence those gossip-mongers and save Christine's reputation. For her own good, you therefore need to tell me, where I can find her. I will immediately apply for the special marriage license, then I can join her, wherever it is she is currently staying and we can get married at once."

Mme. Giry sighed. In a way she was touched by the Vicomte's concern about Christine's reputation, but on the other hand, she could not give away Christine's whereabouts, if for no other reason than to ensure Erik's safety. But Christine, too, needed some more time to make her final decision. She needed to spend some time with Erik, to see if he could recover, and even if he did, to determine if she truly wanted to be with him, once she had had some time to get reacquainted with him. Only if Christine had that chance to truly evaluate her chances at happiness with Erik, could she be trusted to make her final choice between her "Angel" and her childhood sweetheart.

"I am sorry," Mme. Giry therefore informed Raoul, "but I cannot tell you where Christine went. She did not want you to follow her – nor me or Meg, for that matter – but she suspected that you would do so anyway, if you knew her whereabouts. I therefore had to promise her not to tell you."

She gave him a motherly smile. "Give her the time she needs, Monsieur le Vicomte," she begged, "do it for her. I am sure she will return to us in time. Honor her wish!"

Raoul winced. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "You do not leave me much of a choice," he said miserably, then took his leave.

Raoul had almost reached his carriage which was waiting for him at the next corner, when he spotted a postman approaching Mme. Giry's house. He grinned. Of course! Christine would be corresponding with her foster mother! And letters were stamped at their point of origin. The envelope would therefore give away Christine's location, even if she had not left a return address.

He therefore asked his driver to only take his carriage around the corner, out of sight from Mme. Giry's home and to wait there. Lo and behold, a few minutes later his patience was rewarded, when the same postman that had delivered the letter to Mme. Giry turned the corner and approached a house in the street where Raoul's carriage was now parked.

Raoul waved to the man to get his attention, and once the postman had approached his equipage, Raoul asked, "good man, if I am not mistaken, I just saw you deliver a letter to an acquaintance of mine, a Mme. Giry, the lady at number 12, that street over there?"

The postman nodded. "Yes, Monsieur," he confirmed. "Until recently nobody was living there, and I never had to go to that house, yes, but today I did in fact have a letter for her."

Raoul interrupted the postman's babbling. "Of course, I know that," he said. "But my question is, you know, the lady has been quite anxiously waiting for a certain message and I would like to make sure that letter is the one she was expecting." He gave the postman his most charming smile. "Therefore, I would be much obliged to you, if you remembered where it came from? The town or village where it was posted? If you could tell me that, then I would know if she finally got the news she was hoping for."

The postman frowned and uneasily scratched his head. Reading was not his forte, and therefore he always concentrated on the addressee's name and address, and never bothered with the sender, or – Heaven forbid! - the post stamp. "It looked like a lady's handwriting," he finally decided. "If that is of any help, I mean, if you know whether or not your friend is expecting a message from a man or woman, but I am sorry, I did not pay attention …. I mean, what is important for me, is to deliver the letter to the right person, so that's what I look at, not the sender's name or address. After all, I don't know them anyway, so I don't care who wrote that letter."

Raoul groaned. Was nothing going his way today? "I see," he replied, a bit less polite. "But if I tell you that it is an affair of the utmost importance for this good lady, that I absolutely need to know if she has been contacted by the person she hoped to hear from, that I will be subjected to endless worry unless I know without a doubt that this situation has been resolved to her satisfaction, will you..."

The postman shook his head. "No, Monsieur," he whispered, fear in his voice. "If you are asking me to withhold her next letter and give it to you..."

Raoul quickly shook his head. "Of course I am not asking you anything of that sort, you imbecile!" he snorted. "What do you think of me? I am only asking you to pay attention to the place the letters my friend receives are coming from. You see, this is a very delicate matter, she will not discuss this with me openly, but since I am so worried about her,... well, if I knew she is getting letters from who I hope she is, then my mind would be much more at peace. Therefore, the next time, she receives a letter, I ask you to pay attention to the sender's address, or, in case the address is not mentioned on the envelope, to the place where it has been posted and therefore stamped. If you could tell me that, I would be very grateful." Raoul put some emphasis on the word "grateful" to make the postman understand that he would be willing to pay for that information, without actually saying so, thus avoiding being accused of trying to bribe the man.

The postman grinned. He understood perfectly even without words. And he, too, preferred that this well-dressed aristocrat had not actually promised a certain sum as remuneration. It was easier to appease his own work ethics that way. Though, truth be told, he was not exactly breaking any rules or violating the privacy of correspondence if he told this gentleman where the letters this ladyfriend of his received were coming from, for he was neither withholding the letters from her and handing them to this young fop, nor was he opening them and reading them and informing the nobleman of the letters' content.

"I can do that, Your Grace," he promised Raoul submissively, "of course, that is entirely possible. How would Your Grace want me to inform Your Highness of the place in question? For, it might take a few days until another letter arrives, and of course I cannot expect a revered person of your social standing to wait here for that long..."

Raoul rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you dolt!" he hissed, and pulling out a notebook and a pen, he wrote down his address. "That's where you will be able to find me, once you can tell me where the letters she receives are coming from. But mind you," he added, "I do have ways of fining out if you are telling me the truth or not. Therefore just coming up with the name of a place will not do. If I find out you have been lying to me..." He gave the man a stern look. "I doubt you will want to find out what would happen then," he said trying to sound at least half as threatening as his hated rival, the Phantom, could sound.

The postman nodded. "Of course, of course, Your Highness, nothing but the truth, that is understood," he mumbled, then took his leave and went his way again, ringing at the next door where he had to deliver a letter.

Raoul grinned. He had found a way to locate Christine. She might not write every day, but eventually his new ally would be able to tell him where she was hiding, and then he'd be on his way to rejoin her and marry her. Yes, it was only a question of days, soon Christine would be his wife. And he ordered his driver to take him to the registrar's office so that he could apply for the special marriage license at once.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was relieved that the postman had come only after the Vicomte had left. That had been a close call! She did not want to think about what might have happened, had Raoul still been here, when she received Christine's letter. He might have wanted to know what Christine had written, and Mme. Giry had a feeling that this letter contained lots of things that were not meant for the Vicomte's ears. She might have had to improvise, but what if he had asked her to show him the letter? If she had refused under the pretext of privacy, he might have suspected that there were things he was not meant to learn about...

She did not want to dwell on what could have happened. She was eager to read Christine's letter, to find out if her presence had been beneficial for Erik, and how Christine felt about Erik now, that she had seen him in his pitiful condition.

She quickly tore open the envelope and read. She was glad to learn that Christine had arrived safely in Boscherville, that Mademoiselle Perrault had put her up in her guest room, that Christine found both, Mademoiselle Perrault and the Persians, very nice and helpful. Then Mme. Giry reached the passage about Erik.

"It breaks my heart," Christine had written, "to see my Angel in such a helpless, vulnerable condition. Oh, Mme. Giry, you cannot imagine how terrible I feel for having caused him such distress. If only he would recover! If only I would get a chance to make him understand how truly sorry I am for all the pain I have caused him and how much I wish to make it up to him for all the suffering he has endured. I spend as much time with him as possible, to make him feel my presence and my devotion. I talk to him, sing to him, feed him. Yes, Madame, he needs to be fed! And Monsieur Khan and his servant also need to bath him and dress him. He cannot do anything on his own! And I am not sure he realizes I am there. He seems to eat a bit more, when I am feeding him, talking to him, encouraging him to swallow the spoonful of food I have put into his mouth, and Monsieur Khan assures me that the immediate danger of Erik starving to death has been banned thanks to my presence and care, but...! But that's all the progress he has made so far. I have been here for two days now, and that's all the improvement. He started to eat more the moment I arrived, but in the two days following there has been no further change. I know I should not lose hope just yet, but I pray with all my heart that this is not permanent, that my dearest Erik can recover!"

Mme. Giry fought back tears. No, she knew it was foolish to expect miracles, and yet... she had to admit that deep down she had hoped that having Christine by his side might pull Erik out of his stupor. Apparently she had been wrong. Once again she wondered if he even had a chance at recovery, since not even Christine's presence had helped him. And she was glad that she had not driven the Vicomte away for good. Who knew, maybe one day Christine would realize that there was no future for her and Erik, and then she might be grateful for her childhood friend's patient waiting for her.