Christine
The next morning we go to meet Madame Giry and take the carriage to the cemetery. Erik wears his mask. I wish he wouldn't, but I know there's no point trying to convince him. He wears it anytime we're away from his home beneath the opera.
"I have good news!" Madame Giry beams. "Carlotta has quit. Really, finally quit. It seems her humiliation in Il Muto was just too much to bear. She's moving back to Spain and Piangi is going with her. Oh, and Joseph Buquet has quit, too. Apparently something spooked him in the flies," She gives Erik a knowing look. "I can't say I'm sorry. The man was down right lecherous and a bad influence on the corps de ballet. He's moving to the country to get as far away from the theater as possible."
I can tell Erik is thrilled, but I have mixed feelings. I imagine how I would feel if I began croaking like a toad in front of an audience and shudder.
"What will we do without a lead tenor?"
"Oh, don't worry," Erik waves away my concern. "We'll find someone. Piangi was past his prime anyway."
"Yes, good riddance to bad rubbish." Madame Giry says. "Carlotts's diva act was wearing quite thin."
"You arranged for the carriage to come to the side street?" Erik asks Madame Giry. She nods. "Excellent, I'm going to watch for it." He leaves with a meaningful look at the two of us.
"Madame Giry, Erik told me to ask you about why he took control of the theater."
"Well, you see, several years ago the Opera Populaire was on the verge of bankruptcy. Businessmen only have heads for money, they have no understanding of the arts. Mediocre musicians and performers were allowed to stay on and give mediocre productions. Subpar musicians are much cheaper than superior ones of course."
"But," I interrupt, "the auditorium has always been packed."
"Yes, but at this time they were selling tickets for almost nothing and even giving them away just to get people in. They weren't even covering costs with the ticket sales. Erik wasn't willing to watch the place go to rack and ruin, so he...ah... convinced the manager at the time to allow him to take over the running of the theater. He sacked all the inferior musicians and performers, and slowly, painstakingly put together a remarkable orchestra and cast. When he first gave the go ahead to hire Carlotta and Piangi, they didn't behave the way they have of late, you see. Of course, they never knew that he hired them. He does all this through letters and instructions to the managers, they are his agents and the public face of the opera. He saved this place. Once he took the reins, we were back to operating in the black in almost no time. That is why he feels it's his theater."
I nod. I had no idea the opera was ever in such trouble. I lift my left hand to wipe a strand of hair out of my face and Madame Giry spots the ring.
"Christine!" She grabs my hand to examine it then looks up at me in surprise.
"Oh! It was my idea. I simply couldn't stand to wait. I know it's not legally binding, but to me it's just as real as any proper wedding."
She places a hand against my cheek. "Are you happy, child?"
"Yes," I assure her. "Truly, completely happy."
"Then we'll say no more about it."
"The carriage is here." Erik says, offering me his arm. Madame Giry gives him a small nod and hands me a bouquet of roses for my father. I take Erik's arm and he leads me out a hidden door to the carriage.
Erik
The interior of the carriage is plush, blue velvet. I lower the curtains and drape an arm across the seat behind Christine.
"Madame Giry explained why you took over the running of the theater."
"And what do you think now?"
"I still don't agree with your methods, Erik. I'm not one of these people who believe the ends justify the means, but I understand why you did it, and why you refuse to give it up.
"Then can we finally, completely put this argument to rest?"
"Yes, I suppose so," she answers thoughtfully.
"Good." I stroke her arm. "I don't like being at odds with you."
She laughs. "Erik, we're married. We're bound to argue once in a while."
"In part because your husband is an implacable tyrant?"
"Especially because my husband is an implacable tyrant." Her tone is light and teasing, but I can't help my wince.
The closer we get to the cemetery, the more melancholy Christine becomes. She presses into my side and lays her head on my shoulder. "Hold me, Erik."
Once we arrive, I help her down and we walk towards her father's tomb. My heart pounds as I see other mourners staring at my mask. They look away when they see I've noticed their attention. No one bothers us.
Christine clutches the bouquet of roses Madame Giry bought for her to lay at her father's grave. She's trembling and holding back tears. I wish there was something I could do to comfort her.
Once we arrive at the tomb, she walks up the steps to the iron doors and begins talking to her father as though he were alive. I follow her up and stand beside her
"Well, Papa, much has changed since I was last here. Your little girl is married now." She lays the bouquet down in front of the doors and takes my arm with both hands. "This is my husband, Erik. You'd like him, Papa. He's an amazing musician. He's taught me to sing, and…" she breaks off as tears choke her. I put my arm around her and tuck her into my side. "I still miss him so much, Erik. So terribly much."
"I know, my dear, I know." I pull out a handkerchief and wipe her face. She gazes towards her father's tomb for a few more moments with a terrible, aching sadness then turns to me. "Let's go home."
"Are you sure you're ready? We can stay as long as you like," I offer gently.
"I'm ready."
As we walk back to the carriage I receive more stares, but again, no one disturbs us. No one gasps or shrieks in terror or disgust either, I realize.
As soon as the carriage door is closed, I pull Christine into my arms. She's still weeping quietly and though I cannot bear her tears I say, "That's it, love, cry if you need to. I'm here. You can cry if you need to."
She sniffles into my shoulder for a few more minutes then sits up. I offer her the handkerchief and she dries her face.
"I didn't know your father," I say as I stroke her hair, "but I know he was an accomplished violinist. I think he would be very proud of you and the work you have put into your voice."
She gives me a watery smile. "Thank you, Erik. He would have loved you."
"Yes, I'm every father-in-law's dream, I'm sure." I can't keep a note of bitterness out of my voice and I look away from her.
She reaches up and turns my face back. "You make me deliriously happy, and he most certainly would have loved you for it."
"Deliriously, hmm?"
"That's right," she tweaks my nose and I bat her hand away, "Deliriously."
"Well, you make me magnificently happy."
She arches a brow. "Gloriously."
"Oh, my dear, this is a contest you will never win. Luminously."
"Immeasurably."
"Divinely."
"Sublimely."
"Exquisitely."
"Superlatively."
"Incandescently."
"Oh, alright, alright." She swats my shoulder then snuggles back into my side. "Thank you for going with me today. I can't tell you what it meant to me."
"You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
We're quiet for the rest of the ride back and my mind drifts to the other mourners in the cemetery. They seemed more curious than frightened. I was willing to go because I knew it would not be crowded, but perhaps Madame Giry is right, perhaps I could go about the city in peace with Christine at my side. The thought is still alarming, but not terrifying as it was before.
Christine
We arrive back at the theater to find Madame Giry waiting for us in my dressing room.
"Come, child, the managers want to see you."
"What, now?" I look at my blotchy face in the mirror. My eyes are swollen and red from crying. "I look a complete mess!"
"I've told them you were visiting your father's grave. They won't think anything of it. Come along, now."
"Go," Erik encourages me, "I'll lock the door and wait for you here."
Madame Giry knocks on the office door and sticks her head in. "I have Miss Daae." She turns to me, "I shall wait for you out here."
"Ah, Miss Daae, welcome!" Firmin calls. "We wanted to speak to you about your contract."
"My contract?" I reply nervously as I sit in a chair across from their desks.
"Yes," André smiles. "We would like to offer you the position of Lead Soprano. We've taken the liberty of drawing up a new contract for you, and we think you will find it quite generous."
He hands the document to me and I read over it. They have more than doubled my salary!
"Well, will you accept?" Firmin presses.
I look up at the two men and swallow hard. "On one condition."
"And what is that?" André asks with a frown.
"I want an understudy."
Erik has told me repeatedly and quite sternly that I'm never to sing if I have a cold. He says it could permanently damage my voice. I know that I'm not brazen enough to refuse to sing; however, if it means the opera would have to cancel a performance.
Both men relax visibly. "An excellent suggestion; we will add that. Is it to your satisfaction otherwise?" Monsieur Firmin asks.
"Quite to my satisfaction."
"We will add the addendum and you may sign it at your leisure. We shan't disrupt your time off further." Monsieur André reaches for the papers.
"Have you found a new Lead Tenor?"
"The advertisement goes out tomorrow. In the meantime, one of the chorus members will have to suffice." André says, massaging his temples.
"Well, if that's all, Miss Daae?" Monsieur Firmin opens the door for me.
"Yes, thank you."
"Well?" Madame Giry asks.
"You'll just have to wait until we're back in my dressing room."
I want Erik to be the first to hear the news. We return to find him pacing the room.
"Well?" he demands, just like Madame Giry.
"You are looking at the Opera Populaire's newest Leading Soprano."
Erik's smile is dazzling as he lifts me up and spins me around. "Wonderful!"
Madame Giry wipes away tears. "Completely deserved. Congratulations, my child."
We bid Madame Giry good evening and make our way home. Erik carries the crate of groceries she bought for us. On the way back I tell him all about my contract and asking for an understudy.
"Quite sensible, my dear. It's good to know you take my instructions so seriously."
"You leave me little choice," I quip.
This time he smiles instead of grimacing. I'm glad to see he's learning to be teased.