Chapter Ten

An Angel's Plea

Erik

When I returned to my room earlier today I had come up the back stairs that the servants use. I had gone all the way up then crossed the hall then down one flight to the door of my room. If I had to circumvent everyone by traveling a hundred miles I would have done so. Once in my room I leaned back against the door banging my head on the hard wood. If I caused enough pain perhaps I could drown out the voices in my head shouting recriminations at me.

I am a filthy, disgusting, unworthy human being. I am lower than the low. A wonderful woman has given me the greatest gifts and I have betrayed her. I had not planned to let my lustful emotions rule my body but then I did not know how weak my resolve would be once the object of my desire stood before me with her blond hair hanging down her back in a loose braid and those men's garments following each and every curve of her frame like a loving hand. When she turned to me in anger, that had not been the only emotion sparking the fire in her eyes. Blue flames shot out at me speaking of desire. I would not have recognized this a few months ago but Eileen has looked at me in the same way.

Before I lost complete control of my senses I had tried to bring a picture of Eileen to mind but the only person I saw was the woman in front of me. To have her so temptingly close and not touch her I think would have been impossible. Why do I want her so badly? She is nothing like Christine whereas Eileen has a similar look to Christine. That is not why I care for Eileen, it is just something I am aware of. I do try not to imagine Christine when we make love. For the most part I have been successful. At least I have never committed the cardinal sin of calling out Christine's name when passion fuels my senses. Eileen has called out to her Henri a number of times but I will not ever call her on that. If she finds it necessary at times to think of me as her long dead husband I am willing to let her have that fantasy. Who does it harm? I love Eileen but I am not in love with her. She is like a breath of fresh air. I feel my soul is renewed every time we are together.

Nothing makes sense right now. I really thought I followed Helene out to the stables to ride. I should have stayed as far away from her as possible the first time I looked at her and the sun was shining down casting a halo of bright light around her. She had her head bent over the needlepoint she worked on as she listened to the others converse. I have noticed that about her, she will join in during conversation but she prefers to listen more often than not, much the same as I did at the opera house. One can learn valuable information simply by letting others speak while you listen.

I cannot even seek relief in my music fearing that I might encounter Helene and finish what had begun in the stable. God knows I had not wanted to stop or leave her there. It had taken more strength to leave than it should have. My life had finally taken a path I dreamed of but never really imagined would be mine, not even my hopes and dreams concerning Christine. Now it may all turn to dust just because I have been bewitched by a deceptively innocent woman. She did not kiss me like an innocent. Her hands, which I can still feel upon my body, did not fumble or hesitate to touch me. A woman well practiced in the art of love could not have done half as well as that devil woman Helene.

Pacing around my room has not relieved me of the feverish longings in my aching loins. I will not relieve myself by using Eileen to assuage the hunger another woman created in me. To do so would defile all that we have shared and what we mean to one another.

I will not use the method of self-gratification to ease this punishment God himself must have sent to me. I deserve to suffer for what I have done.

I cannot say with certainty but I do not feel that Eileen loves me in any romantic way. She has some emotional attachment to me or she would not come to my bed. The way she speaks of Henri I have come to believe she still loves him. Remembering what an honorable man he was it does give me an uncomfortable feeling when I recall all the things I did when he ran the opera house. Without my intervention he would have stayed on for many years content to stage performances for the masses. Instead I nearly caused his death due to an overly weak heart taxed beyond what it could stand.

Eileen has whispered the words of love during the aftermath of passion but I have not mistaken it for any declaration toward me personally. Her heart was buried with her husband but she does still yearn to find that sort of love in another.

I will not think ill of her for using me as she has given me so much and shown me more kindness than a man of my sinful past deserves. Whatever she needs me to give I will give. If it is to let her imagine I am someone else then let it be so. This time I am aware the woman I am involved with does not love me with a passion that should last a lifetime. Foolishly I had let myself believe Christine would have that sort of love for me. How could she when for most of our association I lied to her? She believed me to be an angel sent by her father. No romantic love could develop on her side only on mine.

All this pacing around has gotten me nothing but more agitated. Going to bed seems the logical solution. Lying in bed I begin to count off the minutes in my head. Will she come to me tonight? What will I do if she is the one to make an advance? I cannot refuse her. Is it appropriate for a man to declare he has a headache? Knowing Eileen as I do she would lie awake all night stroking my forehead in sympathy.

I hear two taps on the door that signals she is just outside. After only a brief pause she comes in and comes to the side of the bed. She looks lovely in her white nightgown. Reaching toward the bedside table she turns out the lamp. When she is settled beside me I drape my arm over her middle and quietly ask, "Would it be alright if I just hold you tonight? For tonight I just want to feel you close to me."

She squeezes my hand and answers in a similar soft tone, "Oh course you may hold me. I love a strong mans arms around me. There is nothing like it to make a woman feel safe and loved."

I feel treacherous as another woman's face enters my mind. It is another woman's body in my arms. It is inevitable to wonder if she too imagines someone else holding her. The twinge I feel as I think of this is slight jealousy but not the same crazed see red blood dripping everywhere insanity I felt when I loved Christine. Loved? Since when do I think of loving her in the past tense? Do I not still ache for her, cry rivers of tears for her?

Giving this some deeper thought I analyze just what I do feel. There is still some sort of regard for her. There is likely always to be some part of me that keeps her memory sacred. After all did she not make me rise above being only a ghost? I was her tutor. I sculpted her voice and made it the instrument that could bring tears to the eyes of the listener. Yes, it was I who molded Christine into the woman she is today. Raoul should be kissing my feet for delivering him such a wonderful bride.

It still stings to know she is with him and what they might be doing. I suppose that is my manly pride suffering from knowing she preferred another over me. If I were to ask, I am sure Eileen would prefer her Henri to me. This path brings me to Helene and who she might have feelings for. Eileen has intimated that she had been hurt by a man when she was younger. This is the reason for Helene's display of contempt toward me. She has a grudge against all men and not me in particular at least according to Eileen. I beg to differ. I have felt that Helene has ill feelings toward me in particular and after today her efforts to show just how contemptuous her regard is for me she will redouble her efforts.

Oddly I feel a leap of anticipation as I contemplate crossing swords with Helene, at least metaphorical swords. Is it horrible to hope she pushes me beyond my control so I have an excuse to punish her in a way pleasant for me but perhaps not for her.

Slowly I disentangled my limbs from amongst the folds of Eileen's nightgown. Lying on my back with my hands behind my head I let my mind wander through many different stages of my life. Not all my years have been filled with suffering and pain. The moment Christine came into the opera house my life changed in a drastic way. She had been such a sad inconsolable little girl. Her grief after losing her father had nearly cut her off from every living soul. It had been my voice coming out of the darkness which had brought her back from the brink of letting the living world go. Her hold on reality had been only by a slim thread at best. I suppose that is why she so readily accepted me as her Angel of Music. She had needed to believe she still had a connection with her father and he had promised her an angel, an Angel of Music.

Who can say if it was wise to let her go on believing in her angel long after she should have? I would not let Madame tell her who and what I was because I was and still am a very selfish man. There were points in our association when I thought she suspected I was in reality only a man as she would ask questions and I would have to use my persuasive powers to lead her away from curiosity. I had not been ready to be only a man teaching her to sing. I had liked the idea of portraying one of God's angels. It is a bitter irony that she believed me an angel while all along I knew myself as I truly am, a monster, a user of the innocent. Perhaps I am not so changed as I would like to believe.

If I had an ounce of Christian charity in me I would leave this house and never let them see or hear from me again. I cannot leave. I will not let go of the only good and true person I have had in my life. If there is one thing I can count on with one hundred percent certainty it is that Eileen will never lie to me or betray me. I think she would rather harm come to herself before she would let harm come to those she loves. If I am counted among those she cares for then I consider myself to be the luckiest of men.

Eileen's hand searching behind her for me brings me from my private contemplation. Rolling over I drape my arm protectively over her once more. She snuggles up against me in a way I still am not used to sharing with another human being.

"Are you alright Erik? You seem sort of restless tonight. I hope Helene didn't upset you again. She is not usually so unkind. Please give her time. She will come around and come to care for you just as I do."

Can I feel any lower? Kissing the back of her neck I murmur into her cloud of dark brown hair, 'I am fine, just old memories come to haunt me. Having you here with me helps."

"I am glad I can ease any troubles you have Erik. If anything were troubling you, you would tell me wouldn't you?"

The tone of her voice gave me pause. It almost sounded as if she knew, as if she gave me an opening to confess my most resent sins. To distract her I cupped her breast. She is highly sensitive in that area. I would rather make love to her than chance saying something in a weak moment I know I would come to regret later.

"Do I need to show you how unconcerned I am with everything at the moment?" She would know I offered to make love to her. I left it up to her to choose.

"Umm, that sounds wonderful but I do think you are a bit distracted by something and besides I must be up early as I am going to visit…"

"It is alright Eileen. You may say her name without fear that I will crumble and burst into tears or become so incensed I do damage to everything in my path. I may not be completely over her but I can speak of her or hear others mention her without losing my mind. Blessedly those days are over."

She patted my hand and whispered through a yawn, "I am happy for you Erik. You deserve to be loved with a woman's whole heart. Someday…."

I do think she has fallen asleep. It has not escaped me that she did not name herself as the woman who would give me her whole heart. It does not hurt or shock me to have my beliefs confirmed. At least this time, I know exactly what to expect, at least from Eileen.