Chapter Twenty
A/N: There is a heated makeout session in this chapter so if that's not your thing you've been warned. Enjoy
Christine returned to work the following Monday, feeling healthy and strong- and hopefully- willing to face Carlotta's wrath. She was greeted amiably by many of the cast members until the managers requested to speak with her privately in their office. She sat down in one of the chairs accepting the glass of water they offered.
"Mademoiselle Daaé, how are you feeling?" Firmin asked sounding anxious.
"Much better," Christine replied, her tone somewhat cool.
"That is wonderful news," Andre chimed in, although his voice wavered slightly.
"Did you call me in here to ask about my health or to tell me I am no longer needed as lead soprano?" The girl asked, an iciness tingeing the statement.
"You sound rather angry," Firmin commented sheepishly.
"I believe that is understandable given what occurred, messieurs," Christine bit back.
"What Carlotta did was unacceptable of course!" Andre stammered.
"Unacceptable!" Firmin parroted.
"Yet you will be placing her into the role of Countess regardless," the girl finished angrily.
"Mademoiselle Daeé, you were a huge success with the audience in Hannibal," Andre attempted to soothe. "But you are still relatively unknown. Carlotta-she has been established as the Prima Donna of the Populaire for quite some time now and it is in your contract that if Senora Guidicelli returns at any point-."
"That I must abdicate my position. Yes, I am well aware of that messieurs," she seethed. Obviously, the managers were quite put-out at her sudden temper. Indeed, Christine was surprising herself with how passionate her display was becoming, but she could not hold back. It was entirely unfair! She had been injured by the diva and still she suffered for it.
"The audience would still, of course, enjoy your presence on stage," Monsieur Firmin offered.
"What do you mean by that?" Christine asked, somewhat curious. She had been entirely expecting them to send her back to the costume department without another thought.
"We would ask you to be cast as the pageboy." Andre answered.
"The silent role," Christine murmured. "What about Bridgette? She has been practicing for that very role already."
"Bridgette has agreed to perform with the chorus instead. We do hope you will accept. The audience adores you and to keep you from performing would surely start an uprising," Firmin jested, albeit anxiously.
"I am not sure," Christine admitted, nervously chewing her lip.
"Your salary will still surpass that which you had been making as a costume girl, we promise you that." Firmin took to bribing.
"We do hope you will accept," Andre added.
Christine sat for a moment, wondering what Erik would say to such a proposition. He would be furious, of course, at her being cast aside so easily for Carlotta. Christine did want to be on the stage though, and perhaps, for now, this was as much as she could hope for.
"Alright," she agreed finally. The pair of men let out audible breaths of relief.
"Excellent, well, we will send you off to rehearsal then! And we have requested Carlotta make a formal apology for her actions," Andre declared.
"That will not be necessary." Christine startled them with her sudden comment. "I know she is not sorry for what she has done, and I do not want an insincere amends from her. I only request that while we are on stage together that she does not further injure me."
The girl sensed the managers were balking. "Yes, of course. We will have a talk with her about that. You are not going to press charges, are you?" Firmin inquired, panicked.
"No. But if there is another incident I will." The iciness returned to Christine's voice.
"Yes, yes of course! Thank you for being so agreeable, Mademoiselle Daeé" they both thanked her profusely.
She bid them a polite farewell and made her way back to the stage.
"Christine! It is so good to see you again," Meg's voice sounded from the girl's left.
"It's good to see you too," Christine smiled warmly. Meg grasped her arm and pulled her to the side.
"What did the managers have to say?"
"They told me Carlotta will be playing the lead and I am to be cast as the Page Boy," the girl uttered, unable to hide the disappointment in her tone.
"They're making you play the silent role? That's ridiculous. At least if they put you in the chorus you could use your lovely voice," Meg complained.
"They told me the audience would want to see me perform as a lead role in some manner. This is how they decided to appease them," Christine explained.
"Christine, the audience loves you, not Carlotta. The management is making a mistake! Once they hear that harpy singing and not you there will surely be uproar."
"Perhaps, Meg. I suppose we need to wait then, and let the crowd decide."
The rehearsal was somewhat bearable. Carlotta managed to keep her mouth shut for the most part; most likely concerned that Christine would decide to press charges for the earlier assault. In return, the girl acted in an altogether professional manner, even when forced to hide behind a fan with Carlotta, pretending to be her lover. The staging threw Christine off though, as she had been blocking for the part of the Countess before the awful woman had returned to claim the role. She could hear the frustrated sighs of the cast when she stumbled a step, feeling her face flush hotly in indignation. They think they are frustrated.
An assistant to the director took to practically dragging Christine through her staging, which only sparked the girl's temper further. Erik had never treated her like this! He had always politely let her take his arm as he walked her through the steps. This person grabbed her arm roughly and basically flung her every which way. Finally, she could take no more.
"If you grab me again, monsieur, I will have no qualms with slapping you," the angered words tumbled out of her mouth at the height of her fury.
The assistant's reply was nothing more than a few confused stammers. Christine sighed and gentled her tone.
"See here. I can take direction quite well. You may either tell me where to go and I will do just that, or I will take your arm like this," she demonstrated the action. "And you can lead me to where I must be. Alright?"
"Oui, mademoiselle." He muttered, embarrassed at how she initially spoke to him but compliant nonetheless.
Christine heard the whispering of the cast members. Perhaps they now thought her a diva, but the girl suspected none of them had been treated as she. If they were blind-if they had any sort of ailments-perhaps they would understand.
At the end of rehearsal, Christine took the familiar route to the storage quarters now that Carlotta had once again claimed the dressing room. She waited for the last seamstress to leave; this one had taken over for Christine during the last minute Hannibal fiasco.
"Good evening, Mademoiselle Daeé, how may I help you?" The girl asked politely.
"I just came here to be alone for a few minutes-old habits and all. It has been a rather trying day, Catherine." Christine was not lying.
"I understand completely. Things have changed so quickly for you! I'm just gathering some pieces and I will be on my way. Could you lock the door on the way out?"
"Yes, of course. Thank you for being so understanding." She smiled. Catherine had always been kind to her, although Christine had been somewhat alienated from the other seamstresses by staying in the storage room while they chattered happily in another chamber. It had been alright in the end. She had her ghost for company.
The woman left and Christine sighed heavily, waiting several seconds before twisting the lock closed.
"Erik?" She said softly. On cue, the sound of the passage opening reached her ears.
"My dear," she heard the deep tone of her beloved.
"I missed you," she spoke softly, almost running to him as she flung her arms about his lean waist. Tears seeped out from her shut eyelids pressed against his vest. She inwardly cursed. No more crying, Christine! Really. But she was exhausted and found such comfort in his steady embrace.
She felt a gloved finger work its way under her chin until her head was tilted upwards.
"You have been crying," he stated, upset at the revelation.
"Can we please go to your home?" She entreated.
"Yes, of course. Then you will tell me why you have been crying so."
"Okay, Erik." He picked her up and carried her down the stairs as the passage automatically shut behind the pair.
Once they arrived he immediately settled her into her usual armchair and went to prepare some tea. When he came back she raised her hands up gratefully as he offered her the handle of the mug.
"Thank you, darling," she spoke sweetly.
"Of course, my love," he returned, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head. She smiled, already feeling better. "Now, you will tell me why you were crying," he demanded.
And so Christine told him of both the casting choices and the assistant's handling of her throughout rehearsal. This, of course, angered Erik greatly until he was ranting.
"How dare he treat you so? As if you were some kind of simpleton! A fool-an idiot, that's what he is."
"Not many people know how to…guide a blind person politely, Erik. You and Meg always allow me to take your arm. Others, they believe they must drag me." Christine stated.
"It is inexcusable behavior. And this-choice-they have made to let Carlotta play the Countess is entirely ridiculous! You have been practicing for the role for over a month now and it would take her one-hundred years to even present the character with half the talent you possess."
Christine could not help but chuckle at Erik's dramatics. "I dare say you, monsieur, should be the one on stage!" She laughed more.
"Insolent girl!" His tone held not a trace of threat; indeed, he sounded playful as she had been. Christine smiled and placed her mug on the table before standing up, beckoning him closer. His footsteps were fast approaching and she wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes to better meet his face.
"Insolent, you say?" she teased, bringing her lips closer to where she had practically memorized his mouth to be. With ease, she grasped the corners of his mask and flung it to the ground.
She heard him swallow. "Very insolent," he murmured before bringing his lips down on hers. Christine grinned against his mouth; he had become bolder in their physical intimacy as their courting had progressed. Of course, there were many moments where he was overcome with uncertainty, but she made a great effort to be patient when those shy periods arose.
He was not shy at all now. She felt his strong, long fingers wrap within her golden locks, pins loosening and dropping to the floor. His other hand rested firmly on her waist as their lips moved against each other. Suddenly, he was moving backwards, taking her with him. Christine eagerly followed, squealing as he fell back into a chair and pulled the girl onto his lap. With her legs swung across his knees, she moved her hands onto his chest, massaging and exploring over the surface of his shirt and vest. He responded in kind, fingers tracing the racing pulse in her neck, eliciting a gasp from her. His mouth broke away from hers and she absentmindedly wondered where he thought he was going.
And then his mouth replaced his fingers on her neck and she moaned.
"Such beautiful sounds, Christine," he whispered against her skin, causing pleasant chills to wrack her body.
"Erik," she mewled softly, running her fingers through his sparse, soft hair. Her other hand rested on his chest, above his pounding heart. She grinned. "Since when did you become so bold?" she asked before gasping again at his tongue darting out to taste her flesh. Christine realized that at some point in the tussle the top few buttons of her bodice had come undone. She wondered if she should re-button them but decided against it. Instead, she placed both hands on either side of Erik's face, gently drawing him away from her neck.
"Christine? I am sorry, that was inappropriate." He apologized, panting.
"I am not complaining," she said softly, smiling before dipping her head to brush her own lips against his throat. He responded to the action with a low growl of pleasure.
"Vixen," he admonished before speaking again. "Angel."
"I am just a woman," she replied somberly before placing fervid kisses on his jaw line. His hands rubbed her back and shoulders before one reached back up to twine within her tangled mess of curled hair.
"You are a godsend," he murmured before gasping at her ministrations. Somehow, her legs had shifted and she now straddled the man, her hips pressing into his, causing a startled cry from both of them. The layers of cloth between them did not prevent the heat from arising.
"Christine," he groaned, grasping her hips almost with bruising force between his fingers. She shifted again.
"Oh," she uttered, drawing in a large intake of breath.
Erik let out a pained chuckle. "Perhaps," he gasped. "Perhaps we should stop before we go too far."
"Mmm? Oh, yes, you are probably right," she conceded, trying to wriggle off of his lap, only eliciting another groan from them both. He reached out to stop her movement, but as she moved again his palm came in clear contact with her clothed bosom. "Erik!" she cried, shocked but appreciative of his touch nonetheless.
"God help me," he muttered, withdrawing his hand suddenly. Christine promptly fell backwards and tumbled onto the floor.
"Christine!" He clutched her hand in his and pulled her back to a standing position. "Are you alright?"
She swayed, slightly dizzy but answered with a grin. "I am quite fine, Erik."
"You will be the death of me," he admonished.
"What a pleasant way to go," she jested.
He cleared his throat. "Yes, well mademoiselle. Perhaps I should send you home."
"No! No, please Erik. I will behave, I promise. Will you read to me?"
He paused before finally answering. "Alright. What do you wish me to read today?"
"How about The Marriage of Figaro? That play is so entertaining," she suggested eagerly.
"Excellent choice, my love." She heard his footsteps cross over to the bookshelf and she situated herself onto the futon, excitedly awaiting his return.
"Here we are," he spoke, and she felt the pressure of his body resting on the furniture beside her.
"Act One…" Christine listened to his acting out of the play, contentedly resting her head on his shoulder as he read.
Everything will be alright, Christine. She reassured herself silently. You have Erik.
Rehearsals carried on much the same way. Carlotta had gotten bolder in her snide comments against Christine, but otherwise she did not make to touch her (aside from the scenes in which physical contact between the characters were required). The cast members were still friendly toward the girl, and so she did not feel completely ostracized on stage as she thought may be the case when Carlotta resumed her place as the leading lady. Meg of course took her lunch break with Christine where the pair often chatted and gossiped about the latest scandals. Nadir's presence in the opera house was a welcome one, and often he would stop by to exchange words with the ladies as they sat and ate. As far as Christine was aware, there had been no sign of Ashkan lurking near the Populaire or her residence for that matter. She hoped they were not being lulled into a false sense of security.
When rehearsals concluded for the day, Erik and Christine spent time together in his lair. Sometimes he would read to her, and others he would play the piano while she mended his shirts. There was always a content sense of domesticity as the two shared their presence with one another.
One such evening she had teased him. "I don't know how you manage to put so many holes in your shirts!"
Without ceasing his playing on the instrument, he replied. "What is it you think I do all day, my dear?"
"Do you really manage so many tears by stalking through the tunnels and spying on management?" She laughed, imagining him above in the rafters of the Populaire, snagging his clothing on the various screws and cursing silently.
"I am not answering that," he returned, continuing his composition.
"Erik, I have been meaning to ask you for a while now…what color is your hair? And your eyes?"
"My hair?" His playing slowed a bit. "I suppose it is-well it used to be closer to your color, perhaps a darker blonde. Now though, it is more akin to silver."
She chuckled. "And your eyes?"
"They are golden and quite reflective-like a cat I suppose. Just another anomaly that frightens people away." His playing resumed its faster pace once more.
"Your eyes must be beautiful," the girl declared softly. He did not reply.
As the man continued, she quietly set the fabric and thread down in the chair as she vacated the spot and made her way toward the piano. Her hands lightly pressed against his shoulders and she began massaging the tensed muscles there. At first her touch only caused him to stiffen, a reflex that was easing with time. Sometimes she thought about how many cold, uncaring hands had caused that reaction to be ingrained so permanently within his body. Christine could not think about it too long though, or she would be overcome with sorrow over what her beloved had suffered.
Slowly, he relaxed his arms down, almost leaning into her touch. "You seem stressed, darling," she whispered into his ear, the music unraveling momentarily before he composed himself once more.
"The Daroga has not seen Ashkan lately." Erik replied, his shoulders tensing once more under her fingers. The playing ceased.
"That's good though, isn't it? Maybe he has returned to Persia, thinking you are not here after all." She tried to reassure him, although uncertainty crept into her voice.
"No, he is still in Paris, I am sure of it. He knows you are involved with me, Christine. His silence only means something worse is yet to come. We must remain vigilant." His tone took on an odd manner, as if he had already begun to retreat within himself.
"It will be okay, Erik," Christine reached for his rigid hand. She held it carefully and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, an act which seemed to soften him slightly.
"I cannot have him hurting you, Christine," he whispered.
"Do not worry about me so. I have the…cane with me at all times now. I am not defenseless; you've made sure of that." She ran her thumb across the back of his hand in soothing circles.
"I think it is time you go home. You have a big day tomorrow," Erik spoke abruptly.
"Yes, opening night. At least the opera is a comedy. The audience is sure to enjoy it." She said with an insouciance she did not feel.
"Hmm. They will not enjoy it merely as much with Carlotta playing the Countess. You should be up there tomorrow, singing. It is a waste of your abilities to be in a silent role." He complained, though Christine was relieved to see his mood had lightened somewhat.
"We cannot change that now. At least I am playing a lead role, Erik." The girl returned pointedly.
"I suppose." His tone did not suggest any agreement he may have with her statement.
He escorted her outside when she had gathered her things. While they waited for the cab in the shadows, she clutched his hands in hers tightly. "We will be alright, Erik. I promise." Standing on the tips of her toes, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips.
"I do not think that is something you can promise, Christine," he spoke after she withdrew. The cab appeared and Christine climbed in. Erik had already disappeared.