Little Lotte

"How is Phillippe?" Christine asks.

"Arrogant as always. Very proper except when visiting the Ballet or Opera."

"He is no longer…involved with Sorelli?"

"More or less – he should just marry her – neither of them is getting any younger and she does seem to make him happy," Raoul says, finally taking a seat at the table next to the tea tray. "I much prefer speaking with him after he has visited with her."

Christine clears her throat, indicating Gustave with her eyes, inviting Raoul to change the subject.

Ignoring her inference, he continues, "We Chagny men have always been charmed by the women we fancy – doing and saying things other men might not take up."

Struggling to maintain a pleasant look on her face, Christine says, through clenched teeth, "I am certain most women would be honored to be courted by either of you. I am certain there are any number of ladies in your social circle who would enjoy your company and share your interests."

"Maman, he is insulting you," Gustave says. "He has not changed a bit – lording his nobility over you."

"No, Gustave," Christine says, shaking her head. "Raoul has always been the kindest of men – I must take some of the blame for the failure of our marriage."

"Some indeed," Raoul snorts, choosing one of the pastries for himself. "They are still warm, as you promised, Gustave. Your mother did learn something of the nobility during our marriage – this household appears to be very well run."

"There, you see," Gustave says. "Why do you not just leave now? You are not welcome in our home…at least by me."

"Did you ever tell him how he came to be?" Raoul sneers.

"Yes, she did – both she and Papa did."

Raoul pulls back at the fire the boy spits out at him. Turning to Christine, she nods, eyes narrowed, a faint smile on her lips. "His questions have been answered when asked."

Adjusting his posture to face the boy head on, legs spread, hands pressed into his knees. "Did they tell you about how your father tried to kill me?"

There it is – the reason for the journey. He likely knew he could not blackmail Erik – her husband told her as much. But now trying to use the book as proof of Erik's past – wanting to destroy him in the eyes of his son. "Raoul – this is not your place."

"I told you he wanted to create problems – why did Papa want him to come here?"

"Your precious Pa Pa has grown soft – fallen under the spell of your oh, so pure Ma Man."

"Stop it!" Gustave says, taking a step toward the man he once believed was his father. "There was no torture chamber – you made that up."

"Actually I did not…but it was certainly imaginative – were I that creative, I should have written my own book."

Gustave brows furrow. "Then what?"

"Tell him, Lotte. Tell him about the noose." Raoul removes his cravat and unbuttons his collar revealing the darkened skin left behind by the rope Erik put around his neck.

Gustave looks at Christine. "The scar is like Papa's."

"Not exactly – your father's scar…scars came from a wire garrote – some from scourges, knives and other articles of torture." Christine says.

Gustave only stares. She realizes her answer is not enough to still the fear she sees in his eyes. The young man is waning back to a little boy, his lips trembling ever so slightly.

"Tell him, Christine. Tell him how his precious father threatened to hang me unless you stayed with him in that hell hole of a basement where he festered and went mad."

"You are a liar," Gustave cries. "Maman, tell him he is a liar."

Christine's eyes plead with her son. Wringing her hands, she takes a deep breath before continuing. "Your father should be the one to tell you his story – of why he lived beneath the Palais Garnier and of the pain he suffered to make him so at odds with the world," she says. "What I will tell you is what I know of the events leading to Raoul having the noose around his neck…and why he is alive and not dead."

Gustave gives a curt nod. "That is fair."

"Good," she says. "Now return to your chair, take a deep breath – pour yourself some tea. In fact, pour each of us a cup."

"Stalling, Lotte?"

"No, but taking some of the heat out of the tale would benefit all of us," she replies. "I would also appreciate you not calling me Lotte."

"It did not bother you when we were children together."

"Obviously, now we are neither children nor together."

Gustave prepares the tea and takes the seat across the table from Raoul. "Tell me."

"There had been a number of incidents at the Opera Populaire surrounding your father wanting me to be Prima Donna."

"Incidents like the murder of Joseph Buquet," Raoul says, sipping his tea. "Explain that away."

"Buquet's death was an accident – he tripped on a rope when adjusting one of the flies, he landed awkwardly and broke his neck."

"That is what he told you – others say they saw him hang Buquet from the flies."

Gustave jumps up from his seat. "No! I do not believe that."

"Buquet was already dead."

"That is not what the crew and cast said," Raoul argues.

"No one saw Erik hang him."

"Who told you this folderol?"

"Erik…and Madame Giry…she is the one who saw Buquet fall," Christine says. "They were always friends…of sorts. She left that out of the story she told you. Erik gave her money – she picked up the salary the managers left for him. Delivered his letters, helped with his household chores – she and Meg."

"I do not understand, Maman – what are you saying – someone died one way and Papa pretended he killed him? Why?"

"To frighten the managers into making me Prima Donna."

"You are lying," Raoul pounds his hand on the table. "Why did you not say anything?"

"I did not know until later – the night I left you…returned to Erik…we spoke of all these things. I had to know if killed Buquet. Piangi, as we learned later that night, was simply incapacitated so Erik could sing with me."

"But what about Raoul?" Gustave asks. "What about the noose around his neck – was Papa going to kill him?"

"Raoul arranged for the police to capture…kill Erik. He was expected to be in Box 5 but performed with me instead. I agreed, under duress…" She glares at Raoul. "…to help with his capture – whatever it took. When I discovered he was on the stage, I removed his mask."

"He kidnapped you," Raoul rises from his chair.

"Keep still," Christine hisses. "I do not want to wake the baby."

"Yes, another baby. His baby," Raoul growls. "I almost died."

"But you did not."

"No, you kissed him – you were engaged to me, and you kissed him."

"To save you."

"Twice – you kissed him twice – the first kiss would have done." Raoul begins to cry. "The first kiss would have done – I had to watch you. I loved you. I risked my life to save you."

"You arranged to have him killed," she whispers. "I kissed him to save you. Then I kissed him again to save him."

"You were not in love with him?"

"At that moment, I do not know what I felt. I loved him in so many ways…so many, many ways, but I left with you – he wanted me to leave with you because he loved me. You never cared what I felt – even back at the very beginning when you came to my dressing room. I told you my father died and you never asked when he died, how he died, it was all about you and the red scarf and supper…going to supper."

Joshua starts to whimper – Christine reaches into the cradle and picks up the baby, holding him up to her shoulder, bouncing him gently. "Shhhh, my little one."

"That is not so. I was very concerned," Raoul sputters. "I only wanted to take care of you."

Christine shakes her head vigorously. "You just wanted what you wanted – part of that was Erik being dead." Tears form in her eyes, resting the baby on her hip, she removes a handkerchief from her sleeve and wipes her eyes. "This is his son, just as Gustave is his son and he loves them both with his entire heart – except for what he keeps for me and Emilie and his friends and the people he employs."

"Christine, I…" Raoul stands and takes a step forward, reaching out to her.

Repositioning the baby, cradling him in her arms, she turns her back on him, walking to the French doors leading to the garden.

"Christine…"

Gustave blocks his way. "Maybe you should go. You are not welcome here."

Raoul's eyes meet Gustave's, but cannot hold his gaze.

"I will show you out."