Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hi, I have another update for you all; chapter ten! Reviews are always loved, which brings me onto a huge thank you for; Christine Stein, icanhearthedrums, Hugabouv, Dkk5, TMara and Maddy- your comments are very much appreciated *huge smile*.
Ten- Every Hope and Every Prayer Rests on You Now
(The Giry Residence)
Meg Giry felt like her head might explode. Her face was flushed and glowing with heat, the smile plastered upon it could not have stretched further and the high pitched shriek of joy that filled the room was more triumphant than the majestic blast of a trumpet. She danced about the kitchen with as much precision and effort as if she were on the actual stage before an audience of hundreds; only the audience now consisted of her cat, a table and two very confused looking men.
Their faces were the epitome of confusion, which only served to make Meg throw back her head and laugh. How could they not understand her exhilaration? To hear that Erik and Nadir were planning to somehow ensure the happiness of poor Christine was one thing, but to be asked to help them with such an important task...?!
"I'm sorry about that." She gasped for breath, pulling out a chair and wincing a little as the legs scraped along the floor and an ear-splitting screech resounded around the room. She flopped into the said chair, and gave her bewildered guests another huge grin. "You might have to repeat the question- I got a little bit excited."
"A little?" Nadir asked, but his tone was kind and it was accompanied by a fond smile. "I asked your opinion on how we should go about this...aid mission, if you like."
"And, if you have an opinion, what we should do first." Erik added quickly, the agitation in his voice clear for all to hear. He tried to stop his leg from trembling under the table, as Meg's cat looked like it wanted to pounce on the rapidly moving limb, but he couldn't.
Meg looked thoughtful for a moment, playing absent-mindedly with a strand of golden hair. She did not seem reluctant, like Nadir, or stressed, like Erik. It only took a short moment for her to reach her verdict, and with a sparkle in her cornflower blue eyes she very simply said;
"Why, you must ensure that Christine doesn't leave Paris!"
Nadir and Erik looked at each other in synchronisation that made Meg want to laugh, but the faces of the two men ruined the hilarity. They both looked confused, Erik even slightly irritated, and Meg felt her face slip into a pout. She appreciated that her idea was not a work of genius, but what were they expecting? A suggestion to seize two stallions and go charging into the de Chagny home flailing swords, like some sort of joke?
"Well there is no need to look quite so disappointed with my suggestion." Meg commented a little sulkily, leaning forward to rest her chin on her arms, which lay folded on the table.
"Then you should not suggest something so stupid." Erik replied pointedly. "Why would she be leaving Paris anyway? Her family is here, her home is here; it's not as if she has anywhere else to go, is it?"
"You seem to forget that Paris is not where she and Raoul live." Meg replied, losing a little of her scorn as she realised they knew little of the practical details, such as whom lived where. "Christine and Raoul live in a villa in the south of France; I was under the impression that they only came to Paris because the Comte and Raoul needed to secure a business deal of some description. It would not be unrealistic to assume that they will be returning to the South soon, if not within the next few weeks."
This time Nadir and Erik looked at one another with slightly sheepish expressions, though Erik's face also displayed a look of slight horror. He remembered now, listening to Meg's firm reasoning, that Christine had rambled on about the South of France when he had gone to her window. She loved it there, and so would be begging that fop to return as soon as she could.
Meg saw, with satisfaction, that her reasoning had taken some effect on both men. As they began to whisper hurriedly, the words sounding like puffs of steam from a train, she smiled to herself. She knew that her suggestion was in fact crucial to whatever they planned to do, as well as having extreme practicalities. Erik and Nadir knew this city well, as did she, and in the South they would not have this golden knowledge. Here in Paris there were crowds, alleys, busy streets and all sorts of street goers who could happily spill anything you wanted to know for the right price. Who knew if the South had these helpful bonuses? They all had homes here in Paris, another practicality, and nearly every other citizen was an ally, as they all despised the de Chagnys.
If they allowed Christine to return to the South of France, anything they planned would become harder, if not impossible.
Meg had also decided to raise this suggestion due to her own motives; if Christine remained in Paris then Meg knew she truly could help Erik and Nadir, perhaps even trying to secure meetings for Christine and Erik in a hope that romance would blossom. The plight of poor Erik and the desperation and mistreatment of her childhood friend filled Meg with unimaginable anger and thus the determination to ensure that the situation was ended correctly.
Nadir had the wrong intentions in her eyes; he only cared about ensuring Erik would not have another lapse in his sanity, whereas she dreamed of a future of romance and passion between Erik and Christine.
"Hmm." Nadir said finally, sipping his tea and dragging Meg from all her dreamy fantasies. "I suppose, then, that your suggestion is the only way forward. If we were to secure the Vicomtess in Paris, I would be able to continue with my search for this unknown man in a familiar setting, which always helps. The only reason I can think of to take this operation away from Paris is to test if the man follows her, but as we assume he is following her anyway..."
"My own plans rest upon the setting of Paris, even if your own do not." Erik cut in, sounding confident as he gazed into nothing, looking thoughtful.
"Your own plans?" Nadir asked a little scathingly, one eyebrow arched perfectly.
"Yes. My plans to watch and guard her each night at the de Chagny townhouse-"
Erik never did get the chance to finish his explanation to the scornful Nadir, as at this moment Meg gasped aloud, her heart fluttering in the delight of the situation.
"Oh Erik, how romantic! Just like Romeo and Juliet; the balcony, the moonlight...!" she beamed; turning a little pink as both men turned and looked at her. Nadir was looking disgruntled but Erik looked amused by her outburst.
"I was sure that Romeo and Juliet both died..." Nadir muttered to himself, aware that no-one cared for his opinions but deciding to voice them anyway. He contented himself with muttering under his breath as he poured everyone's second cup of tea, whilst Erik managed a wry smile for Meg and her childish joy at everything he did or said regarding Christine.
"No, Meg, not a romantic gesture I assure you, despite the opinions of that grumpy old man muttering to himself who is sat beside you." He replied, shooting Nadir a meaningful look which received a humoured scowl in return. "To watch over her at night is simply my own way of ensuring her safety. The gossips say that she and the fop do not even sleep in the same room these days, so she is alone and at risk."
Meg saw the unspoken joy in his eyes at Christine's lack of intimacy with Raoul, whom he rightly hated, but she also knew that if something upset Christine, it was sure to upset Erik. For what felt like the hundredth time now, Meg wondered why on earth self-centred Raoul, who had bossed Christine about like a child, had appealed more than Erik. But then again, Meg always forgot the kidnapping part to the story. It was so easy to forget Erik's past persona as an evil Phantom when he seemed such a kind and loving man.
"Ah, that reminds me..." he said suddenly, and Meg looked up startled. Had she accidently said her musings aloud? Her mother had always told her to never bring such things up with Erik, for fear of upsetting him, but he did not look at all upset. She mentally breathed a sigh of relief as he produced a letter from his pocket. He quickly added what looked like a sentence, before folding it and tucking it back into the envelope. "I'll need you to post this for me, if you will?"
She nodded her agreement, taking the small little envelope and seeing his elegant handwriting on the front; 'Christine'. Her heart gave another flip.
"A letter for Christine." Erik smiled a little hesitantly as he answered the question he had seen in Megs eyes. "To explain why she might catch a glimpse of me sat outside her bedroom window every night."
Meg laughed a little breathlessly as she looked at his smile. It transformed his face, changed him completely, and she had to force herself to look away sharply. She could feel heat on her cheeks as she looked down at her feet, silent. Now she felt awkward, shifting her posture on the wooden seat as she self-consciously and discreetly touched her hair. What am I doing, she thought acidly, I'm being stupid. He's not even looking- wait, why do I even care?
"So now we come to the main priority and consequently my area of this whole plan." Nadir teased, and Meg looked at him, pleased that she now had something to think about and distract her stupid self. Nadir watched as Erik began to fidget again, desperate for the real planning to begin at last. "The hunt for the unknown man...ideas, anyone?"
Later that day, the de Chagny Townhouse
Christine de Chagny flopped down onto her bed, utterly exhausted. She lay there, staring up at the ornate ceiling, before sitting up and pulling her hair free of all the pins and clips that had made her head start to pound when her maid had put them in. She shook her glossy curls free and then lay back again, comfortable to just do nothing for once. She had spent a long, painfully humiliating day shopping with Raouls sisters, suffering their cruel jokes and snide remarks in silence. She had been fitted for several new dresses, and whilst she did enjoy getting new clothes, the hurtful comments still rung in her ears and made her feel very sad.
A gentle knock on the door interrupted her lounging, and she sat up quickly and tried to look dignified as her maid came in silently, bearing a silver tray.
"Yes, Jeanne?" Christine asked kindly, though she was well aware that most of the servants in this cruel household hated her. "How can I help?"
"A letter, Madame." Jeanne sniffed, walking over and offering the letter to her. She took it, surprised, and thanked Jeanne. She received no reply. The letter was little and seemed to radiate an air of intrigue. Christine flipped it over and saw her name written in a beautifully elegant script that set her heat beating faster. It sent shivers down her spine to even contemplate that it might be- and yet it was from him!
Christine,
I am writing to make you aware that a situation has occurred that will affect you. I cannot disclose detail as to what this means, but you should not be worried. With your consent I will be ever guarding you, as an Angel should, and you should not be alarmed to hear or see someone outside your window at night; it is me. I do ask, however, that you remain in Paris. This will seem strange request, perhaps it will even appear as a jest to you. But it is not; you must remain in Paris. I implore you.
If you remain in Paris, you need never fear.
Erik.
The letter and its seemingly sinister contents both scared and thrilled her as she scanned the words again and again. She felt strangely wonderful that Erik would be coming to watch over her every single night, delighting in the chance that she might even get to talk with him again. But the request that she stay in Paris made an icy cold shard of fear plunge into her heart.
It would be difficult to persuade Raoul to stay, and harder still to not return to that place she so adored. But the most worrying thing was that something had occurred that meant she needed Erik's unrequested protection. What on earth could have happened that would cause such a threat to her safety? It made her feel a little paranoid, to say the least.
With the supposed threat to her safety hanging ominously in the balance, Christine decided on impulse that it would be wise to act upon Erik's requests sooner rather than later. She couldn't explain why, even to herself, but she felt a complete trust in him, as if she could somehow tell that his motives where in her best interests. She felt shocked; how had she gone from loathing to trusting him without seeing him for three whole years?
But there was also the idea that to follow his requests would hopefully release some more information regarding this apparent situation, which would make her feel far more comfortable. Feeling her heart fly like the wings of a hummingbird, she reached out towards her desk and found some paper and ink. She wrote quickly and efficiently, taking the time to read and re-read the words she unleashed onto the open expanse of paper.
Erik,
Whilst I cannot even begin to express my curiosity as to what this apparent problem is, I am also filled with awe, gratitude and respect for you. I cannot think of anyone, at present, who would be prepared to go to the extent that you describe to ensure my safety, and so I must thank you with all my heart. I would sincerely like to know you better, so perhaps this arrangement can be deemed as good? I do not know what you know, though, so I dare not speculate further.
Your parting comment from when we last met has tormented me since. I think that it is high time you know that I have forgiven you for your actions and hope that you would forgive my own. In those distant days I was a foolish child, worthy of nobody and so capable of hurting everyone without even intending to. Your music still haunts me to this very day and I look at myself and see how pitiful I am compared to you. You continue to flourish despite whatever you have been through and my voice is in dire need of tuning after living in relative ease. I never did thank you for making my voice worthy of your heavenly music- so thank you.
I will speak to you soon then?
Yours,
Christine
Christine put the letter down with a thoughtful sigh, curious now. She sang a line from her very last opera performance trying not to shudder at the memory of that dreadful night, and she pleased herself as she hit each note perfectly. The precision was haunting, but something was missing- a fundamental dynamic gone. It was the extra ethereal quality that had always been provoked by her shadowy tutor, Erik. He had always brought out some hidden part to her voice and spurred something else within her; the ability to make her voice soar and shine like that of the angels themselves. But without Erik, this was gone.
Trying to put these thoughts aside, she slipped the letter into her jewellery box and hurried out of the room, pulling at her hair in an attempt to make it look presentable as she hurried along. It was time to make her request to Raoul; the request to remain in Paris and go against everything she had ever said. With any luck, his new business venture would force them to stay in Paris anyway, which would hopefully mean that they could find their own home instead of staying with the cruel Comte.
Christine told herself that she would be brave. Despite her husband's seemingly good mood since the ball, a night that had brought the man she had fallen in love with out of his cold shell, she still felt her heart thud unevenly with fear. The changes in Raoul since they had married were many; one being his new temper, and lack of patience. He could fly into rages that seemed to have no meaning, only to lapse into a stony silence the next. He could be loving and funny, or cruel and spiteful. Christine saw no reason for why his mood changed so drastically, and it made her doubt everything about their relationship.
Christine found herself wishing for the love she had known before their marriage, when she had been scared for her life and he had been loyal and loving and passionate. She often remembered how he used to kiss her, or tell her he loved her, as she lay awake in bed at night; alone. He slept in another room these days, and most nights he was out until the early hours in taverns and the like anyway. There had been several times now where Christine had looked at her husband and felt no love. She was always horrified when this happened, and it was a rare thing, but still she had experienced what it felt like to look deeply into his eyes and feel nothing at all.
In these instances, she always felt a fondness for him rather than the burning passion that had been there at the start of their relationship. The first time she had gazed into his eyes and felt no love was the night she found him in his room with a woman she did not know, doing things that had stung her to the core. He had told her that night that he was a fool, a terrible man, and that he would do anything to apologise for this lapse in his faithfulness. But Christine had known he did not mean it, as he had done it again and again, and she had looked into those eyes and felt nothing for him. He could have been a stranger for all she felt that night.
She found Raoul in the study with his father, an extra person that made her nearly tremble and gag, but she still forced herself to enter and walk up to them with a smile on her pale face. They were deep in conversation, Raouls back to her, so it was the Comte who saw her standing there. He gave her a thin, cold smile that spoke more of hatred than anything else.
She hated her father-in-law. She could not deny it. And now he was going to be here to witness her seemingly ridiculous plea to stay in Paris.
"Raoul." The Comte said in a calm, flat voice that made the hairs stand up on the back of Christine's neck. "Your wife."
"Christine!" Raoul looked up from the letter he was drafting, turning round to face her fully. He smiled and kissed her cheek, his lips soft and gentle, and she felt like she might cry at how pleasant he was being. "You're looking rather well; beautiful. How was your shopping trip?"
"Thank you." Christine forced a smile. The day shopping felt like years ago; she was entirely consumed with thoughts regarding the letter and her reason for being here, nothing else. "The shopping trip was lovely. What is this you're working on?"
"The future of the de Chagny family, Christine. It is our new business proposal, you see. We will be rich!" he laughed, like a proud little boy who had just built himself a toy from twigs and sticks. Christine bit back the reply she longed to give; we are already plenty rich, darling. "Anyway, what brings you here? Are you ready to start your packing?"
His casual words felt like a cue in an opera. She had been given the perfect opportunity to voice her request, and still she felt apprehensive. She gulped a little; glad Raoul had looked down at the letter in his hand, and managed another strained smile.
"Ah, my love, I was actually wondering if we could possibly remain in Paris?" she faced her fear and just said the words with no fuss, despite the feeling of dread in her chest, knotting uncomfortably. His face went blank with confusion as he looked up and into her eyes, frowning.
"But...why?" he demanded, puzzled. "You love the south of France, Christine, you said so yourself just the other day!"
Christine felt flustered as the Comte too looked up and straight at her with those unfeeling eyes, almost as if he could see why she was being so irrational with this request. She shifted from foot to foot, though she fought not to, and felt her face turn a painful red. She had hoped that it would be easy...but no. When had her life ever taken the easy route for once?
"Well, my love, I...I have discovered that...that, well, I sorely missed the city and all its delights." She said, covering up her hesitation by feigning sadness, making her voice sound as feeble as she could manage. "There is such a sense of home for me here...not to mention the social life I have found. I had great fun with your sisters today."
Now Raoul really did look perplexed. He knew that his sisters loathed her, and that the other lords and ladies in the area looked down upon her as if she were a rat. He stared at her, gaping, his eyes wide and filled with confusion.
"Well, I- I am sorry darling, but we must leave Paris." He said faintly, trying to recover from the shock of this request. He sat down heavily, still struggling to comprehend the situation. "I have no choice but to go to the south for this business proposal. I am sorry."
Christine had reached a state of desperation. She would need to somehow convince him or she would never see Erik again- her fear at this shocked her. Why-? But before she had time to really question her own feelings, or protest against Raouls final word, the Comte butted in. His cool voice was a shock to hear; she had forgotten that he was even in the room.
"Ah, now son." He chided calmly, making Christine immediately suspicious of why he was so eager to agree with her. Surely he would want to be rid of her? "Your wife has suffered a great deal lately...surely if it soothes her to remain in Paris, then she should be allowed to stay."
"Father! Business requires my presence in the south! You said-" Raoul began to complain in a tight voice, hinting at another fierce temper, but the Comte once again cut him off.
"I never said that you both had to remain in Paris, did I?" the Comte talked to Raoul condescendingly, and Christine knew that he was the only man that could do so and not receive the wrath of her husband. Raoul was scared of his father; and who wouldn't be? "You can go alone, and Christine can remain here. We will, of course, take good care of her."
The icy, chilled voice of the Comte sent another wave of shivers down Christine's spine, and every instinct she had was screaming for her to protest, and just go with Raoul to the south. There was something odd and sinister about the Comte's proposal, making her tremble. But Erik wanted her to remain in Paris, and she would do this, even if it meant suffering a few paranoid emotions.
"Oh, Raoul, that would be so lovely for me. I just feel so run down and tired at the moment; the city revives me." She forced the words out along with a smile, and she made herself face the Comte despite her urges to run screaming from the room. "Thank you, sir..."
"Oh, nonsense. Anything for my daughter in law." The Comte smiled, and it looked so genuine that had Christine not already seen it countless times she would have been fooled. His sudden kindness was arousing true suspicion and fear within her. It didn't make sense for him to be so nice.
Raoul didn't look best pleased as he began to pace before the fireplace, the warmth of the summer evening meaning that it was not lit. His face was distressed, confused even. Christine felt am little sorry for him; he knew that his father did not like her and so was as confused as she regarding the sudden open armed gesture. He was also bound to be a little shocked that she didn't want to return home with him, preferring to stay in a city filled with people who did not even like her. The pang of pity grew as he crossed the room to stand before her, gripping her hand as if he were a small scared child, needing comfort.
"You're sure about this?" he asked softly, a slight frown still on his face. "You'll not get lonely on your own? If you'd only wait a year at most, we could be back in Paris after a short stay in the south, together-"
"I'm sure I will find plenty to do, Raoul." She cut him off gently, not able to bear the plea in his voice. "I'm sure I will be missing you so much that I will come down to meet you after a few months anyway- I just need to try and stop feeling so delicate. I hate feeling like a fool."
She hesitantly reached for his hand and caressed it, feeling the smooth skin warm beneath her finger tips. She looked into his eyes and with a sickening thud realised that there was only that aggravating fondness, no passion- she felt sickened by the idea of kissing him now. The adoration act...it was the opposite of how she felt right then, and she could only pray that some time without him would make her fall fully back in love with her husband.
"Then it's settled." The Comte cleared his throat nosily, casing Raoul to drop her hand as if it were an unpleasant object. The Comte came over and put an arm around his son's shoulders, ever so discreetly pushing Christine out of the familial embrace. "And now we need to return to our accounting."
Christine gladly took the poorly disguised hint and fled the room as quickly as she could, feeling tears begin to well up of their own accord. She did not even bother to give her meek goodbye; she couldn't force herself to say it. The Comte made her feel paranoid and Raoul...her lack of love towards him today had been the worst yet. She was scared by how quickly her feelings were fading; rapidly dissolving due to the hate he could throw at her. She forced herself to hold back the tears and strode off towards the library, her next move already planned in her head.
After pacing in the library for what felt like a year, though it was really only a few minutes, Christine reached the eventual decision to somehow communicate with Erik properly. It would have to be through Meg, as Christine had no idea as to where Erik was staying, or if he even was living anywhere.
If Megs lack of surprise when Erik had burst into the kitchen that frightful day was anything to go on, Christine could predict that Meg knew all about Erik. She probably knew all about the Angel of Music stories too, and how cruel she had been to Erik...Christine told herself to be quiet. Panicking would be a stupid thing to do, and she liked to think that she was not stupid. If Meg knew Erik well, then Christine could simply post any letters to the Girys and tell them to pass them on to Erik.
Pleased with her solution, Christine grabbed a few sheets and paper and a pot of ink, and she had written nearly half of her correspondence when she remembered that she would probably see Erik this evening anyway. The letter from earlier, stashed into her jewellery box, was already forgotten. She would be able to talk to Erik when he came to the window; there was no need for clever solutions to the correspondence problem. Irritated and childishly put off by this, Christine scrunched up this new letter and stuffed it up her sleeve, planning to burn it in the next fire to be lit so that no-one would ever be able to read it.
She would have to address every single issue that she had planned to write to Erik face to face, and the prospect was horrifying. It would be humiliating, to say the least, and she dreaded what he might say in reply to all her ramblings. At least in a letter there were no cruel laughs or snorts, or even a glint in the eyes of the person you were communicating with. Face to face, there was no way to hide from the truth.
As she contemplated the conversation they might have, Christine felt strange stirrings in her confused heart. The thought of her mentor, her Angel, was making her feel foolish and hopeless. Cursing herself for being a complete wretch, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the library, not noticing that the badly crumpled letter, half finished and yet still perfectly clear, had fallen to the floor.
Erik,
I have secured it with my husband that I will stay in Paris whilst he travels to the South of France alone. I am anxious to see you again, so that we might talk and you can tell me why my presence in Paris is so important. I suppose that with Raoul gone it will be far easier for you to come here, which can only be good. I will leave my curtains open slightly each night, and the doors onto the balcony unlocked so that you can come inside-
