True to his word, Erik never spent another night away from me. He also went about securing proper cookware and food so that we had a sufficient pantry. I was curious on how he was procuring these items and worried he had gone back to his old habits of stealing from the opera. However, Erik surprised me when he returned with fresh food and a new pan with a hand written price tag still on its handle.
"Tell me anything you need and you shall have it." he offered.
"Where did you get these from?" I asked trying to lower the tone of my suspicions.
"From the stores and market place." he replied in a matter of fact tone. He proceeded to explain for he could easily sense my disbelief. He visited the merchants in the early hours just as they were opening their stores. Even though it was nearing towards summer, the cool air of the Seine in the morning gave enough excuse for a man to walk about with a hat and long muffler pulled up to his face.
"But what about your mask?"
Erik tapped the side of his nose. "Ah that Christine, must remain my little secret."
Our particularly little existence continued as normal. Erik would go out in the mornings and return with fresh food every day. I busied myself preparing our meals and improving my cooking skills. Erik dutifully ate everything I put in front of him. I did not even have to nag him to leave his composing in order to eat. We would dress for bed and Erik slept with me through the night.
So it was after a while that I noticed Erik had another routine that he undertook. Every day, he would depart our home with a bucket of water and a bundle. When I questioned him, he replied that he was working on the maintenance of his domain outside his house. "As you can probably guess Christine, no one come down here keep up appearances in the cellars." I accepted this, even though I grew concerned that he would not allow me to come with him. He was quickly ready with some excuse when I offered my help.
"I must get out of this house sometime." I complained one afternoon as he returned from his routine absents. "I know I can't return to the opera without being noticed but I can't remain locked inside all day."
I saw him twitch as this statement and I was aware that it reminiscent of my early complaints. "Are you not happy here?" he prodded.
"I'm most content here with you Erik. But I cannot be a peace for much longer contained within these walls" I reasoned. "I need to see the sun. To walk outside. I must admit, I'm rather jealous of your daily trips to the world above. I wish I could come with you."
He smiled. "I understand and I shall grant you this favor. Even better than the one you requested. You may go outside on your own."
I blinked in shock. I had never expected that respond. "Erik, are you toying with me?"
He seated himself on the settee beside me. "No I'm quite serious. It is very wrong of me to keep you here. You've given me your heart and your trust. I will give you permission to come and go as you please." He pulled my hands into his. I was dumbfounded at his ease, not really believing his words to be true. Then I saw him lower his eyes, and pull the corner of his bottom lip with his teeth. This was one of the few signs I could read displaying his frustration. "But there are conditions. Please be inconspicuous. You must take to make sure no one recognizes you. It may be best that not loiter too near to the opera were the company frequents."
"I will take care." I promised.
"There is more. Please do not venture north of the Rue Scribe. Keep your journeys to the south by the river and the Louvre. You have to return here before sunset. I don't want you wandering too far. If you're in trouble..." his voice broke. "I have no way of knowing. No way of reaching you."
I was touched by his words but a small voice in the back of my head whispered the harsh reality. He had ways of finding me before. He may let me leave his home, but I was never truly out of his sight. In that moment I didn't care. I felt such relief and excitement at the prospect of getting out of this house. I had been in this place for so long that I had every corner, furnishing and wall committed to memory. I needed to see the sun. These thought set my mouth to grinning.
Erik observed and tried to match my enthusiasm with his own. It was a weak attempt as the corner of his mouth rose only slightly. "This please you?"
"Yes." I gave his hand a squeeze. "But you must come with me sometimes." I added.
"I don't think we can tempt fate too much, my love. It's a miracle I haven't aroused the noticed of the police with my strange appearances in public already. And besides, I'm not worthy to be seen with you." He reached up and pressed his hand into my cheek in a pitiful gesture. "What would people say?"
"Erik...you are all I have let in this world." I pleaded. "What care do I have for others?"
"Someday Christine, I will walk in the sun with you...but not today." The defeated tone in his voice was enough to inspire me to lean over and give him a kiss on his lips. I could feel his lips turn upward into a smile, but he did not return my kiss in kind.
I look forward to my new privilege every day. However, I did make an effort to contain my enthusiasm as not to offend Erik. I was not excited to go outside only because I could be away from him. This past year, I had been clinging to the shadows. I had busied myself with my work, working all day and well into the night at the opera. I had been confined to the cellars. It had been a long time since I had stepped into the sunlight. Erik fixed the lock he had destroyed for the secret door on the Rue Scribe
Following Erik's instructions, I purchased a wide brim sun bonnet for myself and light gauzy scarf to protect my face from the breeze. But I relished in walking down towards the river, removing my hat and scarf, and tilting my face upwards towards the radiant sun. The warm rays bathed my face and warmed my skin, even down to my scalp. I kept these episodes brief not wanting to draw attention to myself, but for the most part I did not attract too many stares. Indeed, the old ways of decorum seemed to by dying off as I noticed I was not the only unchaperoned young female out in public. Plenty young ladies strolled among the boulevards, admiring the sites of the city.
Even though I had been regulated to a few city blocks, it felt like a vast wildness compared to the close quarters of the Erik's home. When I returned, Erik was waiting for my eagerly. He made a pretense of busy himself reading or writing, but the way he instantly lost interest was an obvious clue he had being paying much attention to them in the first place. They were no more than a vain attempt as a distraction as he awaited my return. I think we were both aware of this fact but we decided not to mention it.
Erik questioned me about my outings and I happily recalled my experiences to him. No detail was too small or trivial and he genuinely enjoyed hearing about the sunlight rippling against the water of the river in a rare moment of stillness or the outrage design of a lady's hat I had spotted in the crowd. He suggested I might taking to sketching or keeping a journal what I encountered. It was not a familiar pastime for me but with Erik's encouragement, I purchased a small journal and carried it on my person.
The summer had brought many visitors to Paris as well as the regular citizens taking full advantage of the lovely weather. The streets and shops were busy and it was rare that I could find a bench or someplace quite to sit. My journeys usually carried me to the river and I started to develop a routine of sitting by the water, making note of how many boats passed or observing on a unique outfit of my fellow Parisians. I even made a noble attempt at sketching my surrounding.
However, I often found myself slipping into boredom and considered leaving and returning home to Erik. My new home was at least full of music and someone to talk to. Even though I was daily surrounded by people on my walks, I dared not strike up a conversation with any stranger. Following Erik's request, I stayed away from the cafes and shops in the neighbor close to the opera. I hadn't seen anyone from the company pass by me and I always kept a watchful eye. It was one afternoon, when my familiar melancholy mood struck me and I considered leaving my bench and returning home, when a high pitch laughter assaulted my ears. I turned my head and saw it came from a couple strolling by the bank of the river, their backs facing me. The shock of white blond hair displayed by both the man and woman made my back straighten to attention.
"Raoul..." his name escaped my lips like a constrained prayer.
I stared at them, the woman still laughing and clinging tightly to her escort. It was too intimate of an embrace for a brother and sister to share. The man turned his head to look over his shoulder and his strange profile caused me to frown. It wasn't Raoul and on closer inspection I noticed his companion was far too short to be Genny. Disappointing, I turned back to my open journal, the page for my daily entry blank. Before I knew what was happening, I saw a tear fall from my cheek and stain the paper. I quickly wiped it away and lowered my head as not to draw attention from anyone.
I was ashamed to admit that my concern for my friends had started to fade. It seemed in my odd existence they had almost vanished from my memory. I had trusted that they had been lead out safety from the cellars. I put my assurance that the Daroga had enough power of Erik to make sure they had not been harmed and Erik had given me his word. Had they left Paris? Had they fled? My anxiety began to rise and I knew I had to do something quick to distract me before drawing attention to myself. I picked up my pencil and began to write.
"My dearest Raoul..."
I wrote every day. Letters to both Raoul and Genny. I assure them in every letter that I was safe and satisfied in my new married life. I would describe my daily activities and what I had seen just as I would recount to Erik later that evening upon my return. At the end of letter I would once again beg their forgiveness for what I had put them through. I prayed for their welfare and hoped that we had not all gone through this terrible ordeal for nothing. My journal entries soon transformed into daily confessions and the pages were soon filling up.
What started as a form of relief soon transformed into a practice of guilt. I hid my journal from Erik. I was inventing fanciful tales to recount to him at the end of the day to cover up the fact that I had devoted my entire afternoon to writing to my friends. I was afraid he would find my journal and be terribly cross with me. Truth be told, I was starting to become resentful. I was annoyed at feeling ashamed at myself for my letters. I didn't want to hide them anymore but I dared not ask permission to mail them and make contact with my friends. However the concern for Raoul and Genny was like a growing ache inside of me. As soon as I knew they had gotten away, as soon as I knew they were safe, I could find some sense of peace in my new life. And I would trust Erik completely.
I acquired a post office box in a station a few block north of the opera house. Keeping my head down, I purchased a few dozen envelopes and composed a short letter. While I kept trying to express my confidence in my actions; my hand was shaking as I wrote. My letter was brief. I stated to Raoul that I was well and asked him to please contact me.
"I will not leave my husband or break my marriage vows, but I am desperate to know if you are well, my dear friend." Writing these words felt surreal. "Please do not seek me out, but only write to let me know the state of your welfare."
I waited for two days with no response, before I began to send the letters from my journal. I added the same post script at the end of each of them. Some days, I stuffed two letters, one to Genny and the other to Raoul inside the same envelope. I visited the post office every day like clockwork, but after two weeks, I still hadn't received a reply.
It was becoming hard to content myself with my daily strolls or my time at home with Erik. Did I have the address of the de Changy town home correct? Surely, the de Changy were known well enough for the post to deliver any mail marked for them. Perhaps they had abandoned Paris all together. I recalled my warning to him on the night of the masque. That he should take Genny and leave the city.
I was foolish to think only the Seine separated us now. Why would Raoul have any reason to stay here, when I had pushed him away? So many times I had begged him to leave alone. I had gotten my wish. We could have been separated by an ocean by now. With this realization growing heavy upon me, and nervousness of the oncoming sunset I returned to the door on the Rue Scribe. Once I made my descent into the cellars and through the passage that followed the bank of the lake to our home. If Raoul and his family had left, it may be weeks before any my letters were forwarded to him. And even if they reached him, would he think me worthy of a reply?
A stark flash of white on the stove pavement in front of the door distracted my pitiful thoughts and brought me back to reality with a halt.
It was a letter. A letter to Raoul, lying folded among the black stones forming the threshold...of Erik's front door.
A curse escaped my lips as I swooped down to pick up the letter. It had grown wet from the dampness in the cellar, but there was no concealing the words with in as I unfolded it. Dearest Raoul. All my foolish passions and ramblings on display for anyone to see. It must have fallen from my person and I had sat right outside Erik's door. He must have seen it. He was still in house when I had left that day. He must have seen it and was now leaving it here to mock my stupidity. Dreading what punishment waited for me beyond the door, I went to open it.
It was locked.
I stepped back in surprise. The door was never locked. Erik was always at home when I had returned before and I had no key to the main door. I knocked and waited. There was no answer. A sudden panic seized me. An unspoken threat invaded my mind and caused me to panic. Where was Erik?
Returning to the floor, I grabbed a fistful of stones and placed them in the center of the paper. I crumbled it into a ball and threw it as hard as I could across the lake. It landed a few yards away, bobbing slightly at the surface before it faded into the water like a lamp being extinguished in the darkness. My thoughts were silenced for a few blissful moments and I concentrated on the ripples in the water before they faded away.
The sudden sound of footsteps echoing across the stillness of the lake alerted me. A panicked cry escaped me. "Who's there?"
A shadow turned the corner before its owner did. Erik appeared carrying with his usual bundle and bucket. I noticed however that bucket was empty and the bundle lacked its usual bulge. When I had questions him about this before, I had deduced that he must have carried tools with him. But here he was; empty handed.
"Where have you been?" the question erupted from my lips before I could stop it.
His shoulders tensed at my accusation. "I could ask the same of you. It's nearly sunset." he retorted. His harsh tone caught me off guard and I shrank back against the door.
"I'm sorry." I apologized weekly. "I guess I was just scared. The door was locked. You weren't home...you are always home..." I trailed off. Behind my back, my hands were shaking. Erik had left his home. He had clearly seen the letter and he had left the evidence of my distrust out for me to see. I was going to be reprimanded and now I had made it worst with my stupid accusatory questions.
"I'm sorry that my absence disturbed you so much." He reached into his waistcoat pocket for his key and opened the door. My feet quickly carried my across the parlor and to the stairs to my room.
"Christine!" His voice froze me in my tracks. I turned to face him, his eyes intently fixed on me. "You seem quite upset. Is something wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong really." I lips barely moved as I spoke.
A shadow formed and flickered across his left eye, no doubt the result of an eyebrow being raised in disbelief. "Really?" He echoed my response.
I took a long intake of breath, still unsure if he was only playing at being oblivious. "Well, I just had a feeling. This afternoon, I was overcome with a sense of loneliness. I wanted to get home right away and I suppose… I was just afraid when I found the door locked. I panicked and it was very silly of me, I recognize that." I spoke quickly hoping this feeble excuse would be enough to calm his suspicion for the time being.
My explanation seemed to have pleased him. He put a caring hand on my shoulder. "Well than I shall have to make you a key to the house so you may open the door if I'm out." The hand on my shoulder reached up stroke an errant curl that escaped my up do. Something about his calm manner and smile made me highly anxious. As if he knew what I had been up to every afternoon. That my feelings of loneliness were derived from missing my friends, not from being away from him.
"And you will let me know if there is anything else I can do to ease your mind." he added.
I stood there stunned. Was it possible that he didn't see the letter? No, Erik was too observant to miss something like that. It wouldn't surprise me if he had already discovered my hidden letters before and read them all. He was calmly hiding this knowledge from me, I was sure of it.
The next day, Erik gathered his things to make his daily departure. Without my notice, he had refilled his bundle and was making his way toward the door when he hesitated. He turned in my direction as if he just remembered I was still there. When he discovered I had been watching him intently, I saw his eyes narrow into slits.
"Are you no going out today Christine?" he asked.
"No I thought not." I replied. "It looked like it might rain yesterday so I thought I would just stay home."
The corner of his lip lifted. "It's raining? Are you sure?"
The truth was I wouldn't be able to tell if there was a thunderstorm or hurricane outside. The walls of the cellar were so insulated that the sounds of the outside world rarely reached us. "It just been cloudy all week actually. Not the best weather for being outside really." I offered praying that he hadn't already being outside and discovered I was lying.
He cleared his throat. "If you say so. I have left a key to the door on top of the piano...should you change your mind." Then he left without another word, and I could hear the familiar click as he locked the door behind him.
I glanced at the piano, which still held the strange iron casket that contained the keys to the torture chamber. The memory of that night and the curt tone in which Erik has spoken to me caused me to shudder. He spoke as if he were annoyed that I decided not to go out. That I was breaking my routine deliberately. He was right, of course.
I had dared to write another letter. I had concealed it on my person, folded and tucked into my corset. With my back towards the door, I removed it, opened it out and smoothed down the raised edges.
"Raoul, I am desperate for some response to my letters. I know you must hate me. I would not blame you if you never forgave me for what I did to you and your family. Hate me if you will, but please my dearest friend, write to me at this address to let me know you are safe. Yours Christine."
I had almost written "to let me know you are alive" but reason shockingly triumphed over my paranoia this time. Raoul was not dead. Even Erik, who had seemed to be the prince of lies, could not have deceived me about that. All I wanted was a word. Even if it was a brief note telling me to go to hell, I just needed to know he was safe.
Just in case Erik was still lingering outside the door, I sat at the piano, let my fingers pick over the keys and practiced my scales. After a several minutes of this farce, I took the key, rushed to my room grabbed my cloak and with the letter in hand; raced to the door and up out of the cellars. This letter seemed more precious to me than the others and I ran like I was holding a burning coal in my hand. Once I emerged outdoors I was surprised to see the morning was actually sunny and pleasant. The temperature was actually warmer than I would have expected making me regret bringing my cloak which had already cause me to sweat during my climb.
I turned my attention to my directed target. I was intent to get to the post office as quick as possible and run back to the opera before Erik returned from his daily disappearance. However as I rounded the corner, my shoulder clipped the side of a gentleman walking briskly the other way. I managed to back pedal, balancing on the heels of my shoes just enough so I feel back against the wall instead of dropping to the pavement like a stone. I shook the daze out of my head and lifted my eyes, half expecting to see Erik standing there, triumphantly catching me in my deception.
Instead I found myself almost nose to nose with the familiar face of Madame' Vaerlius lawyer, M. Girard. He fumbled to collect his balance and adjust his hat. "Oh I beg your pardon, mademoiselle." he sputtered.
"Monsieur Girard!" I exclaimed. He looked at me puzzled for a moment before his eyes grew wide with recognition.
"Mademoiselle Daae, isn't it? Fancy meeting you here." he started then frowned "Well not really considering that this is the opera and you do...do you still work here?" he asked.
"I'm taken a hiatus from singing but I still have...some business here." I explained.
"Well forgive my rudeness for almost crashing into you..."
"Monsieur." I cut him off. "It was my fault and I was in a hurry." My fingers holding the letter to my chest tighten slightly. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?" he nodded. "I have been trying to contact Raoul de Changy and his family for several weeks now. But I haven't gotten a response to any on my letter." I had up the letter for him to see. "I was on my way to post this now." I was so overtaken by my speech that I had failed to notice M. Girard's eyes growing even wider as I spoke.
I paused my frantic narrative. "Could you by chance leave this at their town house if you are in the area?" His mouth opened in confusion. Perhaps I was being a little too bold. "Or perhaps they have left Paris. Could you tell me?"
He reached forward and grabbed my extended wrists none to gentle, but I could tell it was not out of malice but shock. "Mademoiselle Daae, forgive me but haven't you heard what's happened ?" he half shouted. Clearly my silence indicated my answer.
"I thought you knew. Philippe de Changy is dead! He was found drowned in the sewers beneath the opera. No one has seen any of the family since it happened. Raoul and Mademoiselle Genevieve have been missing for weeks!"