Disclaimer: The characters and plotline of the Phantom of the Opera on which this story is based are – to the best of my knowledge – the property of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Nor do I own any of the songs or music used or referred to within this story. No infringement of copyright is intended nor is this story written for profit as I have the greatest respect for their work.
Chapter 35
Antoinette sat outside the Dean's office, waiting for Christine's arrival. She could not help but wonder at the hand that had guided the events of the last few months. When she had thought of that house for Christine to live in, it was only much later that she had realised the full potential of the situation. Both of them had been all but cut off from the world, both shared a similar, if not equal passion for music. Both had been hurt tremendously in more ways than one.
Both had been in the last words to her and the dying thoughts of Catherine Daaë.
She still had the letter stored away safely: the letter asking her to try and bring the two together, even if it was only for a moment; she would do the rest.
She could not help but wonder if those words were being carried out now. He had convinced Christine that he was the Angel of Music? That could not have been easily done, no matter what her daughter believed and wanted. She had certainly been happier lately. There was still a long way to go before she would come out of her shell completely, but there had been far more improvement than she could have otherwise hoped for after such a short period of time.
And she had turned to him when she needed comfort the most.
As a mother, it had hurt that Christine had not turned straight to her; but that she had turned to him was a strong sign of the trust that had been earned. Even though Christine had probably not let him see her face; that he had been allowed to see her tears was astonishing given such a short acquaintance.
But she knew him. She knew what he could be like, and no matter what Katie had been hoping for; she couldn't help but be concerned about the two of them if something were to go wrong – which is why she had told him not to keep things from her again. She only hoped he'd heed her words.
She saw Christine through the window. Good. She doubted they would wait much longer. When she had heard what had happened, she had been horrified by her daughter's behaviour. When she had heard why it had happened; she had been shocked – but also proud. Not that she would be saying that in front of anyone else outside of the family. No one should get away with saying something like that about anyone; that Christine had been in the room at the time merely magnified the point.
"Mother?" Antoinette turned to see her second daughter slightly out of breath, as though she'd run part of the way. She never was one to stand being late. "They'll let me stay?"
"You must speak with them." She answered, taking Christine's coat before knocking on the office door and showing her in.
"Miss Daaë, we've heard from Professor Gardiner what happened, and Madame Giry has spoken on your behalf, in order to explain matters further." Christine turned briefly to her second mother, whose unapologetic look indicated that nothing had been explained which she would object to. "Now, whilst I can understand you wanting to defend your father, and whilst I do acknowledge that Miss Guidacelli's comments were highly objectionable; I cannot condone your course of action."
"I understand, Sir."
Dr Poligny, the Dean of the Ravelle was by no means considered an easy-going man. It was rare for a student to be called before him for anything positive – especially so early on in their career. Suffice to say, when Madame Giry had called Christine about this meeting, her happiness over possibly keeping her place had been short-lived compared to the nerves that set in once she'd found out who the meeting was with.
The others present were Professor Gardiner, for obvious reasons, and Mr. Debienne, head of the board of trustees. Seeing as Carlotta's mother had made some very generous contributions in recent years (one can only speculate as to why), he had decided to give the matter his particular attention.
"Now, having had the circumstances behind your . . . reaction explained a little more fully by Madame Giry, we have decided that this is a rather exceptional case and would be willing to put the matter aside, provided you apologise formally to Miss Guidacelli."
Christine just looked at him.
"Miss Daaë, you struck the girl in front of your peers without reprimand. Were your actions to go unpunished, then the Ravelle would be viewed as condoning what happened. We have a very prestigious reputation to consider, and whilst your circumstances warrant sympathy, they do not justify such outlandish behaviour. Now will you apologise to Miss Guidacelli?"
"No."
"Miss Daaë, understand that if you do not make amends for your behaviour, the Institute will have no choice but to seriously reconsider your place here." Mr. Debienne interjected.
She looked around the office. It was a large one, as befitted the Dean of such a place as the Ravelle, expensively but tastefully decorated. The walls and furniture contained various accolades, pronouncing his status and declaring his worthiness for such a position as the one he held. But there were other things in the office as well. It wasn't just the office of the Dean. It was the office of a husband and father – possibly even a grandfather.
"Are these your children, Dr. Poligny?" She asked, gesturing to what was obviously a family portrait.
"Yes; and my wife. But we are not here to discuss my family, Miss Daaë."
"No, we're discussing mine. But you don't understand my family, Dr Poligny, so no matter what you think, you can't understand or even begin to sympathise with my 'circumstances', as you called them."
"Then do enlighten us, Miss Daaë." Debienne intoned; his voice patronising and filled with condescension.
"Do you love your children, Doctor?" She continued, ignoring the board member.
"Of course."
"To what degree?"
"I don't believe I understand."
"How much do you love your children? Would you die for them if you had to?" He considered the young woman before him, uncertain as to where this was going. Being an honest man and a loving father, he could only answer one way though.
"Yes."
"What if they were to die for you?"
"Miss Daaë, this really is inappropriate." He replied, shifting uncomfortably.
"Are you so certain?"
"If they were to die for me . . . I can't imagine."
"If your entire family was to die for you: no matter how great a sign of love that action would be, you would not want to go on living. You wouldn't even look for a reason to get up each morning; you'd wish you hadn't woken up instead. You'd be lucky if you could manage to go through the motions of life out of sheer habit. You'd spend every waking moment wishing either you could be with them, or that you had been the one to die in their stead – no matter how selfish a thought that might be."
Silence.
"I don't think I can argue with that assessment, Miss Daaë."
"What if you had to watch your family – your entire family – their bodies wracked with pain, suffering every conscious moment? What if you had to sit by their side, knowing that they were experiencing pure agony for your sake? That if it weren't for you, they would be well? What if you had to sit there, knowing that they were dying? And they were dying such an awful death because of you. Because they loved you that much."
"Miss Daaë-"
"And then what if some heartless creature came along and said that it was a good thing they were gone; that the world was better off because they'd been through all that? What if someone made everything they'd been through seem that worthless?"
"I don't know." Poligny answered, the depth of her situation impacting him.
"Just tell me this: would you apologise for defending your family in that case?"
"No. In all fairness, I'd be hard-pressed to apologise for defending my family in any case." He replied, almost speechless at what he had heard – having been given the extremely toned down version by Madame Giry.
"Then why do you ask it of me?"
"Miss Daaë, are you suggesting-" Debienne began, seeing as his colleague had suddenly been struck dumb.
"I'm not suggesting anything, Sir. I'm telling you that those are the 'circumstances' I find myself in. I will not apologise for defending my father, even if it costs me my place here. If you want me to apologise for hitting Carlotta, then I will. I can accept that it was wrong of me, seeing as I acted in the heat of the moment. But I will do so only if she apologises first for the way she insulted my family and me."
The gentlemen considered this declaration, consulting with Gardiner for his take on things as well. Madame Giry came and stood behind Christine, her hand resting on her left shoulder in a sign of both support and approval.
"Miss Daaë, I am confused on one point: you said you defended your father, and yet you speak of your family in its entirety." Debienne asked – clearly the Devil's advocate of the proceedings.
"My father was my family. I'm an only child and my mother died when I was a little girl."
"And Madame Giry, your relation-"
"Christine's mother was one of my closest friends. When she married, I was a friend of her husband as well, which is why I was the natural choice to become Christine's legal guardian."
Poligny considered the two women before him once more.
"Miss Daaë, we will try and find some resolution between yourself and Miss Guidacelli. We would not want the wrong message to be put across by the Ravelle, but rest assured: given the circumstances, it would not be too much to have Miss Guidacelli offer an apology as well. Your actions cannot be seen as having gone unpunished, but we shall come to that later, once it has been decided upon. Until then, you may continue with your classes."
"Thank you, Sir."
"And let there be no more of this sort of behaviour." Debienne added as she rose to leave.
"It isn't in my power to promise that." She returned, making her way out of the office.
Once they were safely away and in the open air, Christine finally breathed properly.
"You did well, child. They will be proud." Christine looked at her second mother and gave a weak smile, since she could not form the words without her voice breaking.
"I will take you back to the house. You can gather a few things and then come home with me."
"Mother, I-"
"I know you, my dear. You will not sleep tonight, and your voice has gone through enough." Antoinette continued, silencing Christine's protests.
"Will you let me come by later tonight? I have a few things that I have to do first."
"Very well. But do not be too late. It is a school night, and Meg will no doubt keep you awake."
"Yes, Mother."
"You'd better bring enough for a few days. I don't want you in that house during Halloween." Christine stopped.
"Why not?"
"You remember what Meg told you, about who the house belongs to?"
"Yes."
"There are times during the year when some members of the Institute remember that as well. I cannot guarantee what will happen, but I do not want you in that house during Halloween. No matter what you might think, it wouldn't be safe." The two exchanged a meaningful glance. Christine had yet to speak directly to her mother about her tutor, or the 'owner' of the house. It appeared to be one of those subjects that needed no discussion, only understanding.
"Alright, Mother."
Their paths parted and Christine headed back. She looked at the house again as she reached it. Even though she had tidied it up, it still possessed a haunted air about it. It would not be hard to label it as the Ghost's house, even if one didn't know for certain.
She looked around the inside, at all the changes she had made, the improvements. Sighing, she packed away everything that was hers and put as much of it as she could in the room devoted to her parents. Everything else she squeezed into her own room – which was no easy task as there was a surprising amount that needed to be carted up those two flights of stairs.
Once she had packed everything she needed to take to the Girys, she locked the door then returned to her parents' room downstairs. She did one last check in her mind to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything before shutting the door and locking it. Then she carefully manoeuvred the dresser that stood in the hall so that the doorway was hidden.
She hated having to hide her parents yet again, but she would not have anything happen to what she had left of them. She took up her bag and locked the house as securely as she could before heading off. But she did not go to the Girys. She still had time. And she had an appointment to keep which she wouldn't have broken for the world. She needed to be there – especially after today.
So she went to the main theatre.