Chapter Seventeen
"I-I don't think I can do this," Christine whispered frightfully, alone in the dressing room that was once reserved for La Carlotta.
"You will be perfection, Christine. You have been training for this." Erik's voice swirled in the air around her; he spoke to her from behind the mirror, leaving the girl bereft of his comforting, solid presence. Christine had called her maestro's name in a panic shortly after Meg had left her alone, having completed the last of her friend's makeup and helped her don Queen Elisa's costume. The man-or his voice, rather-had been calmly reassuring his protégée since.
"Five minutes, Mademoiselle Daeé!" a woman shouted from the other side of the door.
"You must go," Erik insisted, his tone firm.
"You will be there? You will watch me?" Christine asked frantically.
"Yes, yes of course. Go."
Somehow sensing he had left altogether, the girl shuffled to the door and upon opening, found her arm grasped fast within a feminine hand. "Come, come now, my dear. No need to be nervous! Were you speaking with someone in there?" The question came from one of the matron's working at the opera house who had been assigned to guide, or rather wrangle, Christine throughout the production's run.
Originally, the ingénue had protested, emphasizing her capability in navigating the opera house quite adeptly.
"We merely want to make sure that given your condition," Monsieur Firmin coughed awkwardly before continuing. "That given your condition…you do not get lost on your way to the stage. My dear, you are not used to making the trek from the dressing room yet." His explanation rung out both slow and rather loud, as if he suddenly believed her to be blind and deaf.
Christine had bristled-both embarrassed and angry at the treatment-but in the end merely assented. "If that is what you think best." Just as she was leaving both managers took to whispering to one another.
"She is so much more compliant than Carlotta."
"Pretty as well! Perhaps not as womanly a figure as Carlotta had…what a tiny thing. Do you think the men in the audience will like her all the same?"
"Oh yes. I would not turn her away from my bed, Andre…"
Their rude laughter echoed in her ears even as she picked up the pace, desperate to escape the burning scrutiny.
"I was…praying," she answered the woman hesitantly, snapping back to the present.
"Ah…such a sweet, devoted girl. You will do just fine! Your voice is so much lovelier than Carlotta's."
"Thank you," the girl responded, trembling as she was whisked to the stage and feeling very alone as she waited in the wings while the orchestra began. The composition was beautiful of course, and Christine soon felt more at ease. Her only job was to complement the music, to bring the story to life. She could do this; Erik would be above looking down on her.
Her cue came, and she was nudged by another person's hand a bit harshly. They were probably as nervous as she was. Just breathe, Christine. Although the new diva's body shook, her feet carried her gracefully into her position on stage, the blocking etched into her muscles by now. The audience seemed rather shocked; the sudden assumption surfaced due to the murmurs of confusion she heard further in front of her.
"Who is this?" an older woman's voice jeered nearer to the front.
"We did not pay to see some unknown!" another male voice hissed. And then the sounds of shuffling alarmed her while footsteps could be heard stomping away. The crowd was in an uproar, no doubt feeling like they had been taken for fools. Oh God, people are leaving! She gulped, willing herself to focus on the music; her part was approaching now. If she made one mistake, surely everyone would demand a refund! Her time on the stage would be over before it had even begun!
"You have been training for this, Christine." Erik's voice echoed in her mind. Something within her switched. Automatically, the young diva straightened her posture, pulling back her shoulders while smiling brilliantly. She looked up, hoping Erik could see her clearly from her place on the platform. Then she sang.
Christine had felt wonderful during rehearsals, but this, this was absolutely euphoric! Was it even possible that her voice sounded better than it had in front of the cast at practice? She paraded across the stage proudly, raising her fist in the air while proclaiming the glory of Rome through song. The chorus joined her as the music reached its crescendo.
"The trumpets of Carthage resound!
Hear, Romans, now and tremble!
Hark to our step on the ground!
Hear the drums
Hannibal comes!"
The applause was thunderous, the audience practically buzzing with excitement; apparently they had returned to their seats sometime after she had begun.
"She is amazing!"
"Incredible!"
"It says her name is Christine Daeé on the program! An ingénue!"
The acts flew by as Christine became fully immersed in her role as Queen Elisa. Costume changes were quick and demanding as her hair was constantly rearranged, while the heavy skirts of each costume were tugged gracelessly down over her head. Nevertheless, she couldn't help smiling the entire time. It was as if she were in a dream!
The sweet opening notes of a violin signaled her final aria. Christine practically floated across the stage as her voice blended the tone of both sorrow and love seamlessly. Contented sighs echoed from the audience, causing the singer's heart to soar as she made her way through the verses. Was Erik proud of her? Thoughts of him filled her mind still as she vocalized the final, musical sentiment:
"We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea!
But please promise me that sometimes
You will think…"
And then her mouth opened wider as the cadenza left her throat like weightless honey. The gasps of several in the audience met her ears while she lilted and stretched her voice higher and higher. As the final note left her body, Christine thought she may collapse from the heady sensation flooding through her.
The shouts and exclamations from the audience lifted her up.
"Brava! Brava! Bravissima!"
"Encore!"
"Brava!"
She bowed, smiling gratefully, unable to hold back the tears that had already threatened to spill during the aria. She heard the footsteps of the cast rushing the stage; they filed around her for curtain call and pushed her forward encouragingly, the gesture causing more cries of praise to echo for the unknown singer's performance.
Meg found her when Christine was finally allowed to retreat back into the wings. Her friend embraced her with vigor.
"Oh, Christine! You were wonderful! I am so proud of you!" The praise only elicited sobs from the girl, so overwhelmed was she from the performance and her warm reception. Christine clutched Meg tightly, hiccupping and almost certain the stage makeup was smearing on her face.
"Christine? Are you alright?" Meg's voice cut in through her tears.
"I-I'm just," she hiccupped once more. "Meg, I'm so happy! I don't know what to do!" She cried again, hearing her friend's answering laughter.
"I have never seen a leading lady collapse into a heap of sobs after a good performance!"
"F-first time for everything I suppose," Christine jested, tears still streaming freely.
"Come, let us get you cleaned up," Meg said gently, steering her friend through several cast members and stage hands who were currently shouting praises at her.
"Thank you! T-Thank you so much," Christine sniffled as Meg steadily led her away.
"Is she alright?" a cast member murmured.
"It was her first performance! Must be nerves!" another chorus member, this time male, replied.
"Poor dear," Mama Valerius' soft, warm voice sounded in the girl's right ear; Christine froze, her head jerking painfully as she sought the source of the utterance.
"Christine?" Meg questioned at her friend's sudden halt.
"I…I must be tired," Christine offered up, shaken.
"Of course, let's get you out of that makeup and that dress." Christine nodded and kept her head forward.
She's not there, Christine. She is dead. Don't turn back. She is dead.
She sighed in relief when they made it to the dressing room. Meg gently washed the girl's face with warm water, later helping a rather exhausted Christine change into regular clothing. Now the two sat companionably in the room, Christine untangling her curls at the vanity and Meg sitting on the chair across from her. Meg had taken the liberty of reading, out loud, the various notes that had been sent to the ingénue which praised her performance.
"Never before have I heard such sweet music! Surely an angel sang on stage! I formally request the presence of Mademoiselle Daeé for dinner tonight at Le Grand Véfour. A carriage will be waiting outside. Signed, the Baron de Coroque. Oh, Christine! So many eligible bachelors have sent you flowers! And courtship offers!"
"I do not wish to meet any of them," Christine murmured, brushing her curls out stiffly.
"Why ever not?" Meg asked curiously.
"Meg…I have something to tell you." The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
"What is it?"
"I…there is a man…" The blush that crept across her face must have been noticeable.
"You're courting someone?" Meg gasped.
Christine swallowed nervously. "Yes, Meg. He-."
"Why didn't you tell me? You know I want to hear about these things! Who is he? How did you meet him? What does he think about your blindness? He is not taking advantage of you, is he? I swear, Christine, if he has done anything to hurt you, I'll-!"
"Stop, Meg please. I-I should have told you, you're right. As to whom he is, he is an old friend. He taught me how to sing-."
"Your voice teacher? You never did tell me much about him," Meg huffed. "How old is he?"
"Well, he is a bit older than me," Christine fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "I think in his fourties…"
"That is so old, Christine!" Meg nearly shouted.
"Please keep your voice down," the girl begged uselessly as Meg ranted on for several more minutes.
"You did not tell me you were courting someone! I thought we were friends! I tell you everything, Christine! You know you needn't be rendezvousing with a man so much older than you. You are a very beautiful young woman, you don't have to settle, blindness be damned! Is he rich? Why him?" The questions continued on and on as Christine's head spun.
The girl reached her hands out, relieved when she felt Meg's warm ones clasp her fingers in return. "I have things I need to tell you, Meg. There is much I have kept from you and I am so sorry." Meg immediately quieted at Christine's somber expression and gave her friend's fingers a light squeeze, as if to say, "Go on".
And so Christine related to her best friend the tale that was her affair with the Phantom of the Opera.
Meg did not speak for several moments when her friend had finished. Then, her voice finally reached Christine's ears, her tone low and hushed.
"Christine, if what you say is true…this man is dangerous. For God's sake, he is being hunted by some strange man from some far off country! A man who threatened you in the cemetery!" Her grip on the girl's hand tightened, communicating the worry she held for Christine.
"Please, Meg. Do you trust me?"
"I am just concerned!" Meg insisted.
"I know, and you have every right to be, Meg. But…I do love him. I told you all of the things he has done for me. He has never hurt me; he has my best interests at heart."
"Oh, Christine. I am not sure…" Meg groaned.
"What can I do to convince you?" Christine pleaded. She waited.
"I want to meet him." Meg stated, voice unwavering.
Christine was not sure why this request shocked her. Of course her best friend would wish to meet the man she one day intended to marry. Still, she felt nervous. What would Erik say? Would he think she had betrayed him for revealing the truth to Meg?
"I will ask him tonight. We are supposed to have dinner together," she spoke with her head cast down.
"You're going down beneath the opera? To have dinner? With this-this- criminal?" Meg sputtered again.
"Yes, Meg. We are courting. And I told you, I initiated this. He-he offered to let me call the whole thing off," Christine's voice caught as she related the information. It had hurt her greatly to hear the pain and confusion in his tone the day before as he spoke of letting her go.
"He did?" Meg's voice had quieted.
"Yes, Meg. He truly cares for me. He loves me as I love him." The girl squeezed her friend's fingers tightly.
She heard a reluctant sigh before Meg spoke again. "Alright, Christine. Go have dinner with this man, this Erik, tonight. BUT-." Her chin was suddenly grasped within the fingers of her best friend.
"But if you do not show up to the Populaire tomorrow, I will be sending a search party down there for you. Understood?"
Christine could not help but grin. "Yes, completely. Thank you, Meg!" She crushed the other girl to her embrace, kissing her on the cheek. Meg relaxed slightly and chuckled.
"You were never one to do things the usual way, Christine," she teased lightly.
She laughed. "Erik and I's relationship has never been usual."
"The quiche was absolutely delicious, Erik."
"Merci. I wanted to cook something special to celebrate the occasion, of course."
"You succeeded!" Christine giggled, giddy from the wine and the rush still accompanying her earlier performance.
"You succeeded. Oh, Christine, never had I heard anything lovelier than you tonight. I felt as if I were on stage with you," he spoke tenderly.
"You were, Erik. I thought of you the entire time! I just wish Mama had been there…"
"She would be very proud of you, Christine."
The girl nodded her head sadly, tears pricking her eyes. Enough crying! "Yes, well. I actually have to tell you something." She squirmed in her seat at the table.
"You told Mademoiselle Giry about me," Erik stated, his tone revealing nothing.
"You were spying on me? On us?" Christine asked incredulously.
"I was not behind the mirror. In fact, I was waiting further down the passage for your call and I happened to hear your friend's voice. She is quite loud, Christine."
"She's never been soft-spoken, but she is a wonderful friend and confidant," the girl defended fiercely.
"You really thing she can keep a secret after she told our enemy his suspect resembled the Phantom?" He growled.
"Now, Erik. She did not know it was you. You were the one who decided to terrorize the opera house for fun," Christine retorted, used to his shifts in mood and undeterred by his menacing tone.
"It is our lives that are at stake, Christine!" He insisted, frustration evident in his tone.
"Oh please, Monsieur Phantom. Meg would never do anything to compromise my happiness! Now, I do apologize for not discussing the matter with you first, but I also think you owe me an amends for spying."
"I was not spying-."
"You were! She is not that loud Erik!" He did not respond; Christine made no move to fill the silence.
Finally, in a lowered, defeated tone, he apologized. "I am sorry."
"And I am sorry too, Erik." Christine's voice softened, encouraged by his willingness to meet her in the middle. "I know the situation is dangerous, but I swear I would tell no one of our relationship unless they could be trusted completely. No one else knows and Meg will not tell without my permission. That is how our friendship works."
"Alright, Christine. I trust you," he uttered, his tone slightly strained.
"Good." She smiled, and then asked shyly, "Would you read to me? Now that dinner is done?"
"Yes, if you wish. I have something for you first, though."
Christine arched a brow. "You do?"
"Yes. Stay there. I will be right back."
And so she sat fidgeting excitedly in her chair, giddy again at the sound of his returning footsteps.
"Open your hands, Christine," he commanded with a sadness that confused her.
She did as he asked, finding a smooth, long object within her grasp. Askance crossed her features.
"It is a cane."
"But Erik, I already have the cane you made for me. This is lovely but-."
"Press the notch on the handle."
She obeyed, the sound of a click met her ears.
"Now reach down carefully and twist. Carefully, Christine, I do not want you cutting yourself."
Cutting? And then she felt it. With a twist, the bottom of the cane detached, leaving the top handle firmly within her grasp. She felt a blade.
"This cane...is a weapon?" she inquired quietly.
"Yes. I made it for you after you told me of Ashkan's appearance at the graveyard. I will not have you be a victim, Christine. I will teach you how to use it quickly and accurately should you have need of it." He stated stoically.
"But I cannot see...how will I...? Erik, I don't want to hurt anyone," she murmured. Then his fingers were on her cheek, comforting in their chill.
"I know. Using a weapon like this is about feeling. An attacker will not expect you to counter them at any point. Your blindness is an advantage...I will teach you," he promised, his tone somber.
"Alright, Erik," her lip trembled as one of his fingers lightly brushed against the petals of her mouth.
"I am sorry, Christine," he whispered.
"No, don't be. Thank you for caring about my safety." The girl responded, reaching her free hand up, smiling sadly as he leaned his cheek into her caress.
"I do not know what I'd do with myself if anything happened to you," he confessed, his voice cracked and raw.
"I promise to stay safe," she replied tenderly.
"See to it that you do," he declared, gingerly removing the cane from her grasp as he engulfed her in a desperate embrace.
"You too," she whispered against the front of his shirt.
And so for the next month Christine shined in the role of Queen Elisa and frequently batted away suitors who had seen her performance with the help of Meg. Her life had become a flurry of shows, conversations with her best friend, and stolen moments with Erik who-in between courting sessions-insisted on teaching her how to wield a blade. Finally, the production ended and the cast now prepared for Il Muto with Christine playing the role of Countess. And then Carlotta returned one bright day of rehearsal.
"What is this freak show?" the previous Prima Donna cried in dismay as Christine belted out her humorous aria flawlessly.
"Senora Gudicelli! We-we were not expecting you," Andre stammered as he had taken to sitting in on rehearsal.
"This is treacherous! You are letting this blind little toad sing my part?" Carlotta screamed. Christine stumbled back, surprised at the insult.
"Mademoiselle Daeé is actually quite popular with audiences, Senora," Firmin piped in, only stoking the woman's ire.
"Pah-that is only because they want to see a circus!" Carlotta bit out.
"Stop it," Christine spoke evenly, silencing the managers and prima donna instantly.
"You dare tell me to do something?" Carlotta gasped, incredulous.
"If my blindness drew the audience in, my voice kept them," Christine stated, referring to the woman's earlier rude comment.
She was not expecting the slap that sent her reeling backwards only to hit her head on the ground. Everything went dark.