Chapter 24

As I reclined on the bed within the crook of his arm, my mind did not stay long upon my book.

This is what a marriage should feel like.

I wasn't married to Erik, of course, and I probably would never be married again, especially to him, but the quiet companionship in the room suffused me with a warm glow while making the words on the page blur with tears at the same time.

Last night, lying in my small bed with him stretched along side, his hands soothing my back and his voice gently carrying me into sleep, I'd realized that this was what I had been denied in my marriage to Armand. In my wildest dreams, I'd never thought that I'd let a man lie beside me again. The fear and choking terror that overcame me any time a man came close to me had been a constant companion since my marriage had ended, and until last night it had also been a reality anytime that Erik was near me, but even in a more fierce form. This man, who was manipulating me so unfeelingly, had filled me with a horrible sensation of impending violence at all times. Even while my unexperienced heart pounded with excitement at even being in the same room with him, I had also known that he wouldn't hesitate to resort to force to get what he wanted.

But last night, when he'd found me crying and the tension and threat that always seemed to invest his body had seemed to dissapate, and he'd turned me and held me close to him, the fear had left, the smothering need to run had ran itself, and I had been left with only the pleasure of being held for the first time with no promise of violence to follow. And I'd wanted to experience it, damn the consequences. I'd asked him to stay, knowing that if he wanted, he could use the night to gain more power, but in that moment, I didn't care.

And now reading with him in this quiet room, neither of us speaking. I'd never felt at ease in the same room alone with Armand. Under my feet had been a constant frozen lake, ready to give and shatter into a million pieces at the drop of a pin. I had never even been able to breathe normally, my muscles in my abdomen always clenched in fear. I'd never forget an incident one evening in the dead of winter when he'd sat in his study, he behind his desk, perusing a newspaper, me on the chaise, a book in my hands. I'd taken too deep a breath and sighed when I'd exhaled. He'd been in front of me in a moment, his hand bruising my chin, coldly telling me that if I was so impatient to be gone of him and escape to my pursuits outside of our home, that he could assist me. He'd dragged me to the French doors, flinging me outside in my evening dinner gown into the walled courtyard, then locking the doors. I'd known that if I pounded on the glass or raised any cry at all, my punishment would be all that more severe. I'd sat upon a stone bench, huddled into myself. When he had finally opened the door and had a footman carry me in, I hadn't even been able to speak, so overcome with cold I was. My maid had had to lay heated bricks in my bed, trying to get my blood circulating again...

I pushed the memory away and basked in the warmth of the body behind me, the slow thump of his heart, the steady inhale and exhale of his chest. Why couldn't I have met Erik at the age of twenty, before he had ever laid eyes on Christine?

A sudden knock on my door had him tensing, his muscles turning into steel. I quickly stood and straightened my skirts and turned to him on the bed. All the warmth of his face had left, leaving the cold lines and ice filled eyes. I raised a finger to my lips to tell him to keep silent and unlocked the door and opened it slightly, peeking outside. Jeanette and Marie stood outside and smiled at me.

"Madame Lefevre would like us to meet her in the costume room in ten minutes. Two of the dressers ate a meal last night together and they both are in their beds with stomach ails. We shall have to assist with changes tonight." Marie informed me that my afternoon had come to an end.

I assented and promised I'd be down to the department in a moment. They'd smiled and took their leave of me.

When I turned after locking the door once more, the package from the musician shop, the coat, the loose cravat, and Erik were gone. I hadn't even had the chance to thank him for his companionship.

Three hours later, the auditorium was in darkness, only the stage lights and the massive chandelier casting light as the curtain opened to a full house once again for the second night of Le Baudelaire.

The three of us stood under the drop flies that were not to be used, the walkways above us, the twins quietly chatting, I leaning against a prop tree with my hands clasped behind my back. A large grouping of dress forms and racks was placed to our right, ready for the numerous costume changes of the show.

The corps de ballet were currently on stage, a brilliant swirling kaleidoscope of aqua and scarlet. Meg was once again dancing the role of La Sorelli, whose ankle was still terribly swollen from her fall.

As the twins moved away to chat to a friend, I felt a presence beside me and looked over to see Madame Giry standing there, her hands on her hips, her critical eyes on her pupils.

She was silent for a time, then spoke.

"I wanted to thank you for accompanying Meg today. She showed me the gown. Exactly what I hoped she would choose to wear." Her voice carried a tinge of weariness, and I knew she was thinking of the many choices that could be offered to a young, beautiful ballet dancer amongst the right company.

"Meg seems an intelligent girl," I whispered aside to her. She smiled slightly and nodded.

"Yes, yes she is. I've tried my best to raise her well. I've warned her not to sell herself short. Too many of my girls, Genevieve, have become the mistresses of patrons: whores, who take fancy dinners and jewels and bragging rights as payment rather than money. I always fear that she will be approached with an offer so enticing she may not be able to resist."

Beside her I was silent. I knew too well the lengths that a young blade would go to have that opera singer or dancer that had caught his fascination and his lust. During our marriage, I knew that Armand had had many conquests outside of our bed and many from the theatres. I'd not minded, wanting him to find his pleasure elsewhere as most noblemen did. I was still often his convenient way to slake his lust, but any time that he took someone else rather than me was a relief.

"What kind of man do you hope for Meg for a husband?" I asked.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask for another Raoul de Chagny to grace our theatre looking for love rather then flesh, but I should like to see her well taken care of. I know she's very envious of Christine and all she has." Her gaze shifted out to the audience and I followed her direction to the box where the Vicomte and his exquisite wife sat once again. There were rumors that Raoul once again wanted to extend his patronage to the Opera Populaire.

"Raoul loves Christine very dearly, doesn't he?" I asked quietly.

I felt her eyes on my face, but I didn't look at her.

"Yes, very much. He's devoted to her, he'd do anything for her, she'd have only to ask."

"And Christine feels the same way toward him, as well?" The question tumbled out before I even knew it and I bit my tongue, knowing that my voice had been tinged with hope.

Beside me, Madame Giry stepped closer. She took my hand in hers and place it under her arm.

"Yes, she loves him. She has no regrets. She would never leave Raoul." Her voice was quiet, but it held a hint of warning. I knew what she hinted at. Love was not easily forgotten and not easily gotten over. When someone loved deeply, it took a great deal to heal if that love was rejected.

"Their having a child," I whispered, "will keep her protected from those who would want to...approach her with an offer, wouldn't it?" I was familiar with, as well, those who enjoyed bedding the wives of others in their circle, but that was not what I was alluding to.

Her gray eyes met mine, and the sadness in them, and the memory of the darkness last night seemed to speak from their depths.

"I desperately hope so." Her murmur was quiet and low, but I heard the fear.

The next thing I said was a foolish slip, and after I'd said it, I had immediately wished to take it back, but the impending sense of doom had returned on the stage which seemed so far away from my little room and the memories there of the last several hours.

"Anyone who would attempt to take Christine away from Raoul would be a fool. Anyone can see the joy on their faces in each other and this new life growing between them. It would be utterly hopeless." My voice was low and vehement and I felt Madame Giry's startled eyes on my face. Her gaze was wide and I knew I had spoken something that I would regret. She opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to warn me again about the guarding of my heart.

From above us came a loud whoosh, the sound of something heavy cutting the air at a quick pace. We looked up and with a cry, threw ourselves free of the massive backdrop that crashed onto the stage, missing us only by mere inches. I landed hard my hands and knees, slipping and collapsing on the hard wood, my right temple cracking against the floor with a dull thud. Madame Giry was on her backside, her eyes riveted above us.

I turned my head and looked up, my temple pounding where it had cracked upon the stage.

On the catwalk high above us, standing in the gloom was a cloaked shadow, a cold face, a white mask and a pair of burning eyes blazing into mine.

Around us, there was a cry as members of the cast rushed to us. But my eyes remained on the figure above me

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out only a choked whimper of disbelief.

In a swirl of cloak he was gone.