The Girys remained with them until after dinner, insisting on leaving for their hotel room before it got too dark. Christine got to speak with them both for hours, overjoyed to be seeing them again, ending with the suggestion that they walk around the nearby park the next day; they agreed immediately. Now that she was alone again, she went ahead and stood in front of Erik's door, smoothing down the skirts of her dress quickly with one hand before knocking.
She went in and shut the door behind herself as soon as he answered. Erik was sitting behind the desk he used for work, something she rarely ever saw - she often didn't disturb him when she knew he was working on anything other than music. Even then, she was hesitant to step into the office lest she interrupt a bout of inspiration.
"I simply wanted to tell you that they've left now." She bit her lip lightly. He was writing something down. "I noticed you didn't come for dinner."
"I thought I'd leave you alone with them - for their sake. I am not hungry, anyway."
"Their visit was rather sudden, so I wished to ask you… what was it that Madame Giry meant when she said warning us beforehand was a risk?"
He stopped his work and finally glanced up at her fully. Her hair was down. She had always put her hair up ever since they left France, only ever permitting some curls to fall to her neck stylishly on certain days - and now he was gaping at her for more than a few moments too long like a fool instead of answering. The young woman definitely noticed, but remained awaiting his reply.
"What she meant," he finally said. "To put it bluntly, she thought we'd run away if we knew of their visit, Christine. Perhaps more accurately would be that I'd run away with you in tow."
She sighed, upset. "I had thought about it. So it seems no one could ever believe I am here in my own free will."
His mind wandered back to the Vicomte and Mme. Giry's words. You do know he is looking for her, don't you, Erik?'
"Thank you for telling me." Her words sent him back to the present. Her long hair bobbed around her as she moved her head slightly and she gasped, a hand coming up to touch a loose strand. "I completely forgot, I apologize…"
"No need," he said softly. "You haven't worn it like that in a long time, Christine."
She smiled bashfully - did he really notice how she wore her hair? "Meg insisted that I put it down and I simply couldn't deny her."
Erik had to agree with little Giry, but he kept quiet. Neither tried to inquire what they had discussed alone with each of the women.
It was a bright, pleasant day as the three of them chatted as they strolled through the park. Christine loved this; her and the Girys, just like before, outside and carefree even if it was only for a few hours. She especially loved when Madame shed her strict persona in these private moments and became every bit as warm as her daughter.
"Well then," Madame said. Her sly grin made her daughter's eyes narrow. "Did Meg tell you she's hiding a young man from me?"
"Maman!" She blushed scarlet and Christine laughed.
"Oh, she tells me nothing of him, but a mother has her ways. Perhaps now with you here she'll finally deign herself to admit it."
Meg pouted, thinking hard. She threw her hands up in defeat, plopping down onto a bench they had neared. "Fine! I met him at the Masquerade Ball."
"Is that all you're going to tell us?" Christine teased after a moment.
"He was very insistent," she giggled, swinging her legs as she sat. "Always kind, but I've run out of ways to say no to his advances, so of course I had to accept out of pure politeness. Do not give me that look, mother, I tell the truth."
"Again, you do not fool me. I've heard the whispers of how 'dreamy' this gentleman is – even Sorelli seems to approve, and she can be as protective as a mother with all of you girls. If you are to be the wife of a Baron, have grace and composure when you sit, Marguerite Giry. Are you not a dancer?"
Meg stilled and visibly reddened again at the word 'wife.' Her voice dropped to a resigned whisper at her last phrase as she replied once more. "We are not even actually together in that way. I wasn't going to tell you about him until we were... how did you even know I was speaking of Victor?"
"I'm truly happy for you, Meg," Christine grinned again, looking down at her friend. "Oh! Speaking of men, Erik will be accompanying us home, since I told him that we'd be simply walking around here and he was heading to town anyway. I trust that is alright with you both?"
Antoinette and Meg looked at each other strangely and Christine frowned. Perhaps she should have told Erik otherwise…
"Christine," Madame said evenly. From her pocket, she produced an envelope which she handed to her. Christine's name was written neatly on it and it was sealed with a wax crest she was most familiar with. Raoul! "I wished to give you this, in private. Before you worry, know that he has not been made aware we are here - he trusted I'd see you sometime before he did, but we've kept quiet."
"He is looking for me," she replied. It was not a question. Madame nodded.
"I do not know what it is the Vicomte wrote. I only ask for you to read it and consider whatever he says. It is not too late for you to come back to Paris, to your old life; when we leave, you are more than welcome to join us."
Christine glanced down at the letter in her hands. Oh, God, she didn't want to leave, but how could she reassure Raoul without jeopardizing her newfound life? The older woman was looking at her directly.
"I appreciate your concern, but I am staying, Madame," she said with what confidence she could muster. "I have no doubt of that. I am truly happy here, and - I love Erik. I understand it is hard to believe, but I wholeheartedly know I'll never be as content with anyone else, not even Raoul."
"She is telling the truth, mother," Meg intervened quietly, after another shared look between the two women. Christine's eyes widened. "Before she and I left for her room yesterday, I saw them as they passed each other. He looked troubled, but just holding Christine's hand for a moment made it seem like he was suddenly grounded. That's when I realized he truly is another man with her, since neither knew I noticed."
The brown-haired girl blushed, and Meg continued lightheartedly. "Besides, whenever she mentioned him as we chatted, she'd grow as shy and pink as she is now. That speaks of real affection to me."
"You can convince me, Christine," Giry spoke, a sad look to her eyes. "But I suspect the Vicomte will not be at peace until he hears of your safety in your own words."
"Then I'll write to him!" Christine suddenly said, clutching the thin envelope to her chest. "I'll read what he has to say and reply to him myself. Please, Madame, if I do, would you give the letter to him in my place?"
"What if he asks how I came to have such a letter?"
"Let him know you visited me, gave me the opportunity to come back to him with you," she settled. With the right wording… "Yet I made you swear not to tell anyone of my and Erik's whereabouts; I received and read his writing and wished to reply. He'd trust your judgment, I'm sure of it."
Madame sighed and nodded in response. A dark figure approached the three of them steadily - the note was quickly hidden from view, safe in the pockets of Christine's dress.
A/N: Thank you for reading!