Chapter 28: Accused and the Ring

A week later, things grew more hectic. The show was approaching and everyone was edgy and nervous. The pranks had not ceased and there was another victim. Thankfully he was still alive, but had little to tell. He did not know what happened or saw who tried to kill him.

Christine was singing the main aria, while performing the choreography. The ballerinas danced behind and around her. Her voice was flawless and glorious. The cleaning ladies paused their chores several times to listen to the rehersel, the male actors watched with smiles from the sides as the beautiful woman graced the stage.

The aria finished and they ended with a pose. A few rippling of claps echoed then ceased as everyone went back to work.

"Excellent, Miss Daee, just excellent," the director George Delon bravoed as he climbed onto the stage.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she smiled and turned over her shoulder, "You all look so wonderful," she complimented the dancers.

Although the ballet rats were a little resentful toward Christine for having captured their precious Count's heart, they did admire her talent, modesty, and kindness. Monsieur Delon then went over a few changes to make transitions smoother when Mademoiselle Bernadette called, the costume mistress.

"Monsieur Delon! I simply must get Miss Daee fitted into these costumes!"

"That can wait," a calm, yet stern voice seemed to silence the crowd. Everyone turned to see a grim Monsieur Luv 'Monte appeared down stage. "Miss Daee, if I might have a word with you in my office,"

he turned and walked down the isle and out the door. The reason for the quick silence was the sudden change in the opera manager's mood. Usually he was a happy, joyful man, but he was so grim and upset, it was not like him.

This silence felt heavy and Christine's heart suddenly pounded hot and cold as she followed after the opera manager.

"Miss Daee, I have not brought you in here to compliment you on stay here at the Opera. What I have to discuss with you is a grave and puzzling situation." After offering Christine a seat, he sat down behind his desk. "Miss Daee, there are a few matters that are a bit puzzling to me. Which can concern the future of this Opera."

"Just what exactly is puzzling you, Sir?"

"In four words," he leaned forward on his desk, "Phantom of the Opera."

Christine was taken back a little. She hid her surprised expression by looking down at her hands then when she knew it was safe to look up, she did.

"There," he pointed, "that is what puzzles me. I have watched the ballet rats and the artists run around whispering words about this Phantom of the Opera. There is fear in their eyes. But in your eyes, there is no fear. In your eyes, there is this look of knowing. Knowing something that everyone else does not know."

"I do not understand. What are you saying? How does this phantom relate to me or the Opera?"

"I have done some research, Miss Daee. Upon my findings, I learned of a poor farm girl who received a job here as a costume girl; picking up, cleaning, and sorting the actor's laundry. She was a virtual nothing, no one remembered her name or her face. Then several months later, she appears with the most beautiful voice. Where had she learned such technic? No one is just born with such tonal quality. Her name and face is then spread like wild fire, she is offered the lead in the next opera which is a disaster that ends in financial loss for the Opera. She disappears for a night. Suggestions of abduction from the Phantom of the Opera. Then this Phantom disappears and she resurfices--"

"What is your point, Monsieur Luv 'Monte?"

"You knew the Phantom of the Opera."

"I thought the Phantom was a mere myth--"

"You knew him and he taught you how to sing."

Christine cocked her eye brow, "That is a bold statement."

"It is the truth, isn't it," he had a curious smile on his face.

Christine did not answer, but glared at him.

"Well then, jumping forward several months. Christine has become one of 'the people.' She lives a quiet life, when suddenly she disappears for a long time without a word or trace, then reappears with more than one companion. She declares that she is unable to sing because of a tragic illness, my sympathies of course, but then several weeks ago, she is able to sing, with the same technic and tone. It is like she was taught by her same teacher."

There was a long pause, each frozen in their positions; Christine at the edge of her seat, erect, and Luv 'Monte now sitting on the edge of his desk. "It seems you have done your homework. I did not realize my life had been such an open book."

"Miss Daee, the point is you knew the Phantom of the Opera, he coached you and he is again terrorizing this place and you seem to be helping him along--"

"I will not tolerate that accusation!!" Christine shot out of her chair.

"I do not want to be the enemy here, but it is obvious that you are helping him and that would make you an ascessery to murder."
There was another pause, a short one this time. Christine breathed deeply, "Monsieur part of what you say is true. There was a man who taught me everything. At the time, I had no idea he was what people have named him to be."

"By the saints! You knew the Phantom of the Opera! So he was real! You talked to him!"

"Monsieur, I assure you, it was no great thing at the time. He was a secretive man, but very gentle and very kind--"

"Hard to believe," he became serious, "He is back now--"

"Monsieur Luv 'Monte, I have some news to tell you. The Phantom of the Opera died."

"What?!"

"What was assumed a few years ago about his death, was true. The Phantom of the Opera is dead."

"How can that be possible? Who is terrorizing the Opera?"

"That I can honestly answer by saying I do not know. That is what makes me act the way I do. Someone is sabatoging the Opera and there is no way it can be him."

"So you're saying that someone is just using him as a cover up," an exciting but worried gleam appeared in his eyes. "Something devious is going on to cover their tracks they're using the myth of the Phantom, very clever. I must tell the police, this must be stopped at once."

"Monsieur, wait, there might be a better way to handle this. You would not want it to be publicized that there is dirty scandal going on only a few more days before the opera, now would you? People would not want to come to a shady Opera House."

"You may have a point. But the police must know."

"I agree, the police must know, but why right now?" She smiled an elegant smile, "why not tell them right after the opera? That way you won't have to refund the house."

"But what if something happens. There already has been a murder."

"The police already know about that poor stage hand, so that is done with and it was publicized in the papers as an accident. I do not think that anything else will happen before the show."

"How can you be sure?" He asked curiously.

"Well, call it a feeling."

After a moment, Luv 'Monte agreed to not publicise the cover-up idea to the police until after the show and after some persuading, promised to keep her past confidential.

"It was a little embarassing. Even I did not know that it was the Phantom of the Opera."

"I have just one more question, Miss Daee? After your illness, how did you regain the ability to sing so well?"
"I had a coach. A very talented man with the ability to do almost anything."

"His name?"

"The only name I can give you is----Erik."

"Very good. If you had not given me some proof, I might not have believed your story. You have my word that I will not devulge your past. My apologies for coming down so hard, but I have the Opera House and my reputation to consider, you understand."

"Of course. Well, if you'll excuse me, I should continue with my rehersels."

"Aduei."

Christine shut the door behind her and stood frozen. She tried to control her shaking nerves when Jean-Claude approached her.

"There has been a thirty minute lunch break."

"Thank you, Jean-Claude."


Late that night Christine and Erik practiced her songs. The lesson was not going so well and Erik could see that. Several times she would forget the next phrase or note or her mind wandered. While singing the final piece in the opera, Christine suddenly stopped and banged her fists on piano. "I cannot focus!"

Erik sat quietly for a moment, thinking on what to say. "Any particular reason for this absent mindedness?"

She sighed in frustration, "I keep thinking about what Luv 'Monte said to me, how he was able to read my expression. It was frightening. He is very observant."

"I am sure you are doing your best."

"I just wish I knew what was going on! All the pranks, the Phantom's trademarks. It is so frustrating."

Erik rose from his seat, "Your devotedness is too kind, Christine. Thank you."

Christine wrapped her arms around Erik and rested her head on his chest, "If only we had a lead as to who was doing this."

"We will find it, have faith. Right now you must focus on this opera. It cannot sing without you."

"I know. All right," she took her position beside the piano, "Shall we start where I left off?"

"No," he walked to her and took her hands. "I suggest you go home and rest. In the morning you can look over the music again and will have the last finishing touches in the rehersels," he offered his arm and she after she took it, he escorted her to the exit, but she lingered at the secret door.

"Someday, we won't have to do this in the dark, in secret. We will find a place where we can be together and not have to hide."

Erik bowed his head and kissed her hand. "It is a lovely dream."

"Hey now, have faith," she smiled, repeating his words, "I believe our dreams will come true." After a pleasant moment, they parted ways.


The schedule for the rehersel of the day was to run through the entire show. Everything, except the costumes, were complete. It was thrilling to be able to run through the show without stops. During one of the intermission breaks, the ballerinas rushed to one side of the stage and huddled around someone. Christine grinned at realizing who was the cause of their attraction. Count Phillipe de Chandon had paid a visit. After all he was the main backer for the show, he had every right to come and visit. It also gave the manager opportunity to schmooze.

Phillipe greeted the dancers, then dispersed them with flattering words. After they departed, he walked up to Christine. "Hello, Christine."

"Hello, Phillipe. It is so good to see you. You have kept yourself scarce these past few weeks."

"I have kept a professional distance. How are you? You look very well."

"I am. This is so exciting. I never dreamed this would happen."

"You were born for the stage, Christine. Anything can happen to cause such a wonderful talent like yours to be heard," he smiled, "So besides the opera what have you been up to, may I ask?"

"Oh, nothing really. Ever since that night at the ball, my life seems to revolve around this opera," Christine chimed a laugh, "I am so excited, Phillipe! I did not realize how much I have dreamed of doing this!"

"This opera was meant for you, Christine. Nothing stands in the way of a growing star ready to shine."

"Places please! Places for act three!" The stage announced.

"Well, I shall be an anxious audience."

"You're only watching the last half? Why not wait until opening night?"

Phillipe smiled, "Oh, call it a precaution if you will."

"A precaution?"

"Forget about it. Hurry along now." He sprung down the steps and took a seat in the audience. Christine went to her place, still pondering what he meant by a 'precaution'.


Down in the house below the Opera, Erik tidied up his bed chamber. He had been pondering the idea of redecorating his room for a while. It was too dark. It was the Phantom of the Opera, which he was not. He had not slept in his room for a long time. He usually drifted to sleep while reading a book in the study or not sleep at all. It was time to change and sleep in his room. It was time to change his room. He pulled down the black canopy on his bed, and the black drapes that hung from the walls. Pulling the drapes from the walls revealed white, rough-cut walls. The room looks brighter and bigger already. He dusted furniture and nick-nacks, swept the floor, and shook the rug.

"Erik?" A voice called from the study.

"In here, Gerard." Erik continued his work.

"Oh my!" Gerard was shocked at what he witnessed at the threshhold of Erik's room. "It's not black."

"No, it's not black. It's not the Phantom of the Opera's room anymore. The Phantom is dead and so is his room," Erik stopped working and looked at his father, "You have come at a perfect time. Would you do me a favor and buy some things for me?"

"Of course. What kind of things?"

"Oh, white sheets, colorful quilts, pretty paintings, satin pillows--I'll make a complete list for you," there was an excitement in his voice as he rattled off things.

"That's fine, when would you like these--"

"As soon as possible. Here," he passed his father and went into the study to make a list. After finishing the list, he picked up a pouch with coins in it. He handed both to his father. "Spend as much as you want. I'll have the back enterance open for you--"

"Erik," Gerard stopped his excited son, "It pleases me to see this creative side of you, but may I ask the reason for all this change?"

"Why not? I am a changed man, why not change my home. You and Christine both have changed me. Besides that room was crying for new decorum."

Gerard laughed, "All right. I will go to the shops and buy the things on this list."

"Off you go!" Erik practically pushed his father out of his house.

"Oh, wait. I came down here to tell you something," Gerard rethought what his news was, "Ah, Christine told me to tell you that she wanted to see you tonight about something. She would be here around nine o'clock."

"Thank you, I will be ready for her. Now, is that all you remember you had to tell me?"

"Yes, why?"

"Now you can go."

Gerard laughed, "All right all right. I'll go. I'll be back later on with the things you asked for."

"Thank you."

After Gerard left, Erik went back to his room and continued rearranging and cleaning. He hummed to himself the male part of Christine's duets she sang with the male tenor in the opera. Time went by. He moved to his dresser. Taking out all the old cloths from three years ago and making space for the new clothes he requested on his list for Gerard, he reached the bottom drawer and stopped. He felt an object in the back of the drawer. "What is this?" He pulled it out into the light and saw a small wooden box. He tried to think if he had ever seen it before and came to the conclusion that he had not. He opened it curiously and a folded piece of paper fell out. Retrieving the paper in his hand, he then looked at the contents in the box. A silver ring with one small diamond in the center. It was a beautiful ring. Peeking beyond his curiosity, he opened the paper to find the purpose of the ring. It was a letter :

My Darling Erik,

Oh how much it pains me to write this, because when you read this letter I will not be with you anymore. I truly hope you are well. Darling, there is something that I must tell you that I was too afraid to admit in person. It is about your father. Growing up you were raised by Gerard and myself. The man who has raised you all your life is your true father, Gerard. I am so sorry I have kept this from you, but we thought it best for you my son. Please don't be angry with me. I love you so much and could not bear the thought of hurting you.

I hope you have found someone to love. It would not be so hard for you, you were always so handsome. My darling, this ring I want you to give to your true love. This was my ring, your father, Gerard, gave it to me. Give them this ring as a symbol of my love for both of you. I know you will find happiness with someone who will take the place of my love.

I now must end this letter, My Love, please forgive me for all that I put you through, and give my love to Gerard.

Your Mother

Erik sat frozen, staring at the letter. Tears escapes his eyes and fell behind his mask. "She knew I would fall in love."