Erik had never particularly enjoyed the company of other people. He preferred solitude. He had always been perfectly content on his own, with only Nadir occasionally poking his nose in his affairs. Mademoiselle Daaé however was somehow… different. Her presence unnerved him in a way he could not logically explain. Being around her made him feel out of his depth, a feeling he was not familiar with, but somehow imagining her absence did not make him feel more comfortable.
It must have been because of her voice. It was as if she had used it to enchant him. Try as he might, he could not get that sound out of his head, for despite the obvious lack of technique she had displayed during her performance, she sang with so much feeling that even he, who could not deal with even the slightest imperfection when it came to music, was entranced.
One thing he did know: if he did not want to scare the girl away, he would need to get his temper under control. And so he did his best to be a little more friendly towards her over the next few days.
So far, his attempts seemed successful. The day after her first performance in the music room she had accepted his offer to teach her. Although he had never taught anyone before, he found himself looking forward to their lessons. She already had the ability to arouse such strong emotions in him with her voice, imagine what she could do if she were properly trained! She could be a star at any concert hall or opera house across the country, and she would have him to thank for it.
Their first lesson was somewhat awkward. She was obviously still nervous around him and hardly dared open her mouth, probably afraid he would yell at her again if she did something wrong. He tried his best to keep his voice soft and gentle whenever he spoke to her, the same way he would when talking to his horse, and it seemed to help a little, but he could see she was still on edge.
He guided her through a few scales and some exercises to warm up her voice before asking her to sing a selection of songs from her own repertoire, careful to be encouraging and not too harsh when he told her what she could do better.
Quite early on in their lesson, it became clear that she was holding back. That first night she had sung with so much feeling and sincerity. Now she sounded almost lifeless, singing the words but not conveying their meaning. He knew she was capable of so much more and wanted desperately to pull it out of her, to force her to use her glorious voice to its full potential. He feared however that she might withdraw from him even further if he pushed her too far so early on, so he did not voice his criticism.
The next night, after her warm-up, he handed her some sheet music from his own extensive library for her to sing while he accompanied her on the piano. She complied, but the song was in Italian and about halfway through the piece she seemed to struggle with the pronunciation of a particular passage, so he told her to listen for a moment as he sang it to her.
He closed his eyes while he sang, letting his fingers dance over the keys of the piano, completely absorbed by the music. When he opened his eyes again and looked over at her, she was openly staring at him with her mouth slightly hanging open.
His first instinct was to demand to know what she was gawking at. It had been a long time since anyone had stared at him so blatantly and he refused to get accustomed to that feeling ever again. He was pretty sure however that snapping at her would not help him in his endeavour to get her to let her guard down around him. Instead, he did his best to keep his voice calm and even as he asked her what the matter was.
The girl seemed to remember herself and snapped her mouth shut.
"I'm sorry, it is nothing," she stammered, looking down to avoid his eyes, seemingly embarrassed at having been caught staring. "It's just… I have never heard anyone sing like that before. Your voice… It's beautiful."
Beautiful? No one had ever called him beautiful, except for his mother, and that had been a very long time ago. To hear this lovely young girl in front of him refer to any part of him as beautiful, even if she was talking about his voice rather than any part of his physical appearance, made a warmth course through him that he had never felt before.
No, he could not let his feelings run away with him. He had to remind himself that if she ever saw what lay hidden beneath his mask, if she ever found out what a monster he really was, she would certainly never use that word again to describe him.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"It is nothing. Now, try that passage again."
She did seem a little more at ease as she started singing again.
During their next lesson, she asked him to sing a part of the song they were working on, claiming she found it easier to memorize the melody when she had heard it sung rather than played on the piano. He had a suspicion that was not entirely true and that there was something more behind her request, but as it was the first thing she had dared ask of him since their disastrous conversation in his study, he decided to oblige her. This time he kept his eyes open so he could observe her while he sang, and he could not help feeling extremely pleased with the look of awe and admiration he found on her face. A monster he may be, but that did not mean he was immune to flattery. If this was his reward, he would gladly sing for her whenever she wished.
Their days had taken on a sort of routine since then. During the day, Erik would often lock himself away in the music room, playing his own compositions on the piano and furiously filling page upon page with music notes hastily scribbled down in red ink. Hearing Christine sing had awoken something in him, and since then music flowed through his veins in a way it had not done for years.
Meanwhile, if the weather was nice, Christine usually spent her days outside. At first, she would simply walk around the gardens for hours on end, seemingly without a purpose. Then one day, Erik spotted her talking to Jean, the man who had been employed as his gardener for as long as he could remember, and to his surprise he saw a smile on her face for the first time since she had arrived on his doorstep. He found she looked even more lovely when she smiled, although he quickly dismissed the thought.
The day after her conversation with the gardener, Erik had been cooped up in his study all day, taking care of some business concerning the estate with the help of Nadir. When he was finally finished looking over the heaps of paperwork and the lawyer had left, Erik realized that he had not seen or heard Christine all day. It was a fine late summer day, meaning she had most likely spent the majority of the day outside, but it was getting late, almost time for dinner, and he had not heard her enter the house again.
He knew there was probably no cause for concern. She had given him no reason to believe she would violate the contract by trying to run, and as long as she stayed within the walls of the estate she was perfectly safe. He decided to go out and look for her anyway. He had to admit he was curious to see what she had been doing all day, and if she should happen to see him, he could always claim that he wanted to discuss something with Jean so she would not think he was spying on her.
As he made his way along the garden path, he realized it was the first time in weeks that he had set foot outside. He usually preferred to stay in if he could help it. The dark and gloomy old manor house was his own domain in a way that the gardens had never been, not since that disastrous long ago day by the lake… But he would not think of that now. Despite the tedious business affairs he had had to deal with earlier, he was in a good mood and did not mind being out in the sunshine and the fresh air as much.
When he entered the topiary garden, he suddenly spotted Christine and quickly hid behind a bush before she became aware of his presence. She was standing on a ladder, garden shears in her hands, trimming one of the smaller trees. He was already debating whether it was worth it to confess that he had been watching her so he could scold her for putting herself in danger like that.
He told himself that he was now responsible for her welfare and that that was the reason why he shuddered at the thought of her falling down, why he felt a surge of panic course through him at the unbidden image of her lifeless form lying on the ground beneath the tree.
Yes, it was a part of their agreement that she would be free to leave if any harm came to her, but that did not mean she had to go looking for it! Luckily Jean was with her, holding the ladder steady. Still, she should be more careful. He would speak to her about it later that evening.
He turned around and hurried back to the house.
At dinner that night, he carefully broached the subject.
"The weather was quite nice today. Did you spend much time outside?"
She looked surprised that he was asking about her day – and rightly so, he had not really shown much interest in her day to day activities before. He was not one for small talk, but maybe he could make an effort for his guest. Then again, she would not be here forever, so why should he change his habits for her?
"Oh, I had a very pleasant day, actually. Jean, the gardener, let me assist him a little in the topiary garden."
"I didn't know you took such an interest in gardening," he remarked casually.
"Well, I did not, really. Not until now," she admitted. "I have not lived in a house with a garden for a very long time. Papa and I left Sweden many years ago and we have been travelling from town to town ever since, never staying in one place for long. Now that I have the opportunity to spend so much time out in the open, I find I rather enjoy it. And regardless, it's a good way to pass the time and keep my mind from… other things."
Ah yes, her father. She clearly still worried about him a lot. Erik had given the hospital instructions to keep him informed of Monsieur Daaé's progress and made sure to share the news with the man's daughter as soon as it reached him. So far, there was not much improvement, but at least he was still alive.
"I am glad you enjoyed yourself," he replied, keeping his eyes on his plate, although the food was no longer of much interest to him. Something she had said distracted him from his intention to scold her for putting herself in danger.
"If you do not mind my asking, why did you and your father leave Sweden? Did you not have a home there?"
Her expression became sombre and he immediately regretted having asked. Whatever the answer was, it clearly pained her to think about it.
"We did, we had a lovely little cottage there, but then mama got sick, and when she died papa could not bear to stay there anymore. The place held too many sad memories. He wanted to start over somewhere new, and since he had connections in France, coming here seemed the most logical next step."
Erik knew the pain of losing a mother. He remembered as if it were yesterday the feeling of his world shattering around him as he was told about his own mother's passing. He could imagine all too well what it must have been like for her.
"I'm sorry. About your mother," he said softly, and was surprised to find he meant it. He had never cared much for other people's feelings, in the same way that other people never cared for his, but this girl had a way of evoking a sense of sympathy he was not familiar with. It was rather unsettling.
"Thank you," she replied with a sad smile. "Luckily I still had papa. He was always there for me, even though he was dealing with his own grief, and that made the pain of her loss a little more bearable. He has been my entire world ever since."
Tears were forming in her eyes as she spoke about her father, probably at the thought that the man might not be around for much longer. With a start he realized he envied the girl. Not because her father might be dying, but because her father cared about her, and she clearly loved him very much. He had never had that kind of relationship with his own father, and for the longest time he had been just fine with that, until this girl came along and showed him how different it could have been. It only reminded him of how unlovable he was.
"What about you? Are your parents still alive?"
He gritted his teeth at the question. His family was the last thing he wanted to talk about.
"No," he snapped a little too forcefully, regretting that he had made the girl flinch in her chair, but more than a little irritated. He still vividly remembered the last time she had asked questions about a subject he absolutely did not want to discuss. It had not ended well. "My parents have been gone for a very long time."
"I'm sorry," she said. The pitying look on her face only made him feel worse. He did not want pity, especially not from her.
"Do you have any siblings?"
No doubt she was trying to be kind and lighten the mood. Unbeknown to her however, she was only making it much, much worse. He could not deal with this line of questioning, not without losing his temper again. The safest course of action now was to remove himself from the conversation before he did or said something he would regret.
"I do not believe my family is any of your concern, Mademoiselle Daaé." He stood up abruptly, throwing down his napkin next to his still half full plate. "Now if you will excuse me, I will retire early tonight. Your music lesson will have to wait." And with that he left the room, leaving behind a very bewildered Christine.