Author's Note: Thanks again for the lovely follows and reviews! I'm glad readers seem to be enjoying this so far.

Please note that I'm not a musician, or a voice teacher. I've based this chapter on my own very limited experience of learning to sing (in a choir), and articles I've read. So I accept full responsibility for any inaccuracies. And don't try this at home without more info, I suppose ;)

Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter Four: The Queen of the Night

Christine had not expected to feel nervous about opening night. After all, she had had many first nights, and the Palais Garnier was a much bigger theatre than the Grand. Perhaps it was because this was a new place, a new audience, and she had to prove herself all over again.

She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. The wardrobe mistress had worked wonders. Earlier that day, she had presented Christine with an evening gown of midnight blue satin, sprinkled with silver beads in the shape of stars. She wore a tiara with a silver crescent moon on her neatly pinned hair. The costume would not have looked out of place at the Paris Opera. She was every inch the Queen of the Night.

She indulged in a quick twirl, and the miniature stars sparkled against the fabric.

Perhaps the performance would be a triumph after all. Perhaps singing here wouldn't be so different from singing at home.

There was a knock on the door, and a boy's voice said: "Five minutes, Miss Daae."

"Thank you."

Straightening her tiara, she threw her shoulders back and walked smartly out of the dressing room. From this moment until the end of the performance, she was Christine Daae, prima donna. This was as much a role as any of her operatic characters, but she was used to playing it to perfection.

2.

While Christine was waiting confidently in the wings, the Grand Music Hall's star illusionist was hiding in his attic room, trying not to be physically ill.

Removing his mask, he splashed his face with water from a porcelain bowl, and winced as his fingers touched his uneven skin. He reached for a towel and dried his face. Then he sat down on the couch, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths.

He wondered if he would ever stop feeling like this. He had been a performer – of one sort or another – for twenty years, and yet he still felt this nausea every time he was about to set foot on a stage. Rehearsals were different, as he was only performing in front of his fellow acts, and he didn't care what they thought of him.

Audiences were a different matter. Audiences could throw things at him, or jeer, or worse. And even though it had been several years since he had appeared as an oddity, and these days he was always masked, it was hard to forget those reactions.

A knock on the door. "Five minutes, Mr Erik!"

At least he had his lesson with Miss Daae to look forward to. He thought of her singing 'Song to the Moon', and felt a little better.

Donning his long black magician's cloak, he slipped out of the dressing room and headed for the stage.

3.

Christine stood in the wings and watched the other acts. The London audiences were certainly vocal in their enthusiasm. The acrobats and aerialist were treated to loud cheers, and the comedian to bawdy laughter. Christine waited nervously for Robert's act, but much to her surprise, every trick was perfect. Even the dove behaved itself.

As before, she found herself absolutely entranced by Erik's act. When the lights went out, she heard excited shrieks and nervous laughter from the audience. But they soon fell silent as Erik unleashed his wonders.

The side flats restricted her view of some of the illusions, but she could see Erik quite clearly. He was a magnificent performer, poised and confident onstage. His every gesture had an elegance that was almost balletic.

After he had vanished, leaving his cloak in a shining puddle on the stage, there were several moments of silence, as if the audience was collectively holding its breath.

Then the auditorium exploded into applause and loud whoops.

Christine was pleased for him, but shaken. How could she possibly follow that? Simply standing centre stage and singing arias no longer seemed particularly exciting. Not after the illusionist's masterful performance.

Once onstage, she was bathed in the glow of a single spotlight. Her dress glittered. She looked out at the audience – a sea of barely discernible figures sat around tables. She gave them what she hoped was her most dazzling smile.

Then she began to sing.

The Queen of the Night's aria was treated to polite applause, but there was also the occasional cough, and the sound of a few chairs being pushed back. She tried not to be disappointed, and threw herself into 'Song to the Moon'. This received a more enthusiastic response.

She paused after the second aria. She almost had them. She could feel it: the spark in the atmosphere. But 'The Jewel Song', which she had been singing in its original French, no longer seemed like the best way of concluding her act. She knew a wrong decision now could cost her the attentions of her new audience.

Fortunately, she had been prepared for this, and now she nodded and smiled at Julian, the pianist. She waved at him – a gesture they had agreed upon – and she heard the shuffle of sheet music.

Christine took a moment to compose herself, and then launched into 'Poor Wand'ring One' from The Pirates of Penzance.

Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta had opened in London the previous year, and it had been a huge hit. She knew at least some of the audience would be familiar with it. It was relatively new to her repertoire – she had discovered the music shortly before she had left Paris – but it was tremendous fun to sing, and featured several cadenzas which showcased her voice wonderfully.

Afterwards, the room once again burst into applause. Some patrons rose from their seats. Others thumped the tables with their hands and called for an encore.

Christine smiled. She had them.

She looked at Julian, who nodded.

Then she sang 'The Jewel Song'.

4.

"Miss Daae!"

Christine opened her dressing room door to find Gerard standing there. He was cradling a huge bouquet of pink roses.

"On behalf of the Grand Music Hall," he said, holding them out to her. "I'm told it's traditional?"

Christine was generally only presented with flowers on gala evenings, but she wasn't going to correct Gerard, who looked delighted.

"Thank you, that's very kind," she said, taking the bouquet.

Gerard shook his head. "I can't believe you sang 'Poor Wand'ring One'. I'm not even sure you're allowed to do that. D'Oyly Carte will have my guts for garters if he finds out. But I'm so glad you did!" He laughed. "We're all off to the pub over the road. For a quick celebration drink. Would you like to join us?" Christine must have looked dubious, because Gerard's smile fell. "It's a respectable establishment, I can assure you."

Christine didn't know what to say, but then she realised she had an excuse to decline the invitation.

"Thank you, you're most kind. But I have another engagement tonight."

"Oh?"

"I'm meeting a friend. Someone from the Opera. They were in tonight."

"I see," Gerard nodded solemnly, but she could swear he had a twinkle in his eye.

"Enjoy your evening."

When Gerard had gone, Christine arranged the roses in the empty glass vase on the dressing table. Then she changed out of her costume.

She glanced at her watch, and realised with a shock that she was five minutes late for her meeting with Erik. Grabbing her small leather portfolio of sheet music, she hurried to the stage.

5.

The theatre was empty and silent.

She wasn't coming.

Erik sank onto the piano stool and stared at his clasped hands.

He didn't know why he was surprised. He had suspected, all along, that she wasn't serious about teaching him. And now he had the proof.

After all, who would want to teach him? For all he knew, this could be Miss Daae's idea of a practical joke. The company had gone out for a drink, and she was most likely with them. At that very moment, they were probably all having a good laugh about the sideshow freak who thought he could be a singer.

"Erik?"

He leapt to his feet, heart racing. The voice – her voice – had come from the wings.

She was here after all.

He smoothed down his coat and turned to face her. She was frowning. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "For a moment…I thought you weren't coming."

Her frown deepened. "Oh Erik, I'm so sorry. I was talking to Gerard and I lost track of time."

"That's…quite all right," he said, still not really believing she had materialised.

They regarded each other in silence, Erik having no idea what to do or say next.

"Well!" said Christine, smiling and opening a small leather folder, which she placed on the piano. "Shall we get started?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to begin by showing you how to breathe when you're singing."

He cocked his head on one side. "I think I know how to do that."

"I don't think you do. Not properly. Here." She handed him a sheet of music. "I would like you to sing this."

He peered at the music and narrowed his eyes. "This looks like a child's song."

"That's because it is a child's song. I've chosen it because it has a simple melody. I want you to concentrate on your breathing. No distractions." She picked out the tune on the piano. "Are you ready?"

Erik grimaced. "Yes."

She began the melody again. Erik sang, feeling that every word of the song was beneath his dignity.

Christine stopped playing and turned to face him. "At the moment, you're singing from you throat. You need to use your whole body. Your diaphragm in particular. When we start again, I want you to place your hand on your stomach and make it expand when you take a breath."

Erik laid a tentative hand upon his belly. "I feel ridiculous."

"You won't when it helps you sing properly."

She began to play the melody again. And Erik, despite his initial misgivings, did as she said. Much to his surprise, he started to hear a slight improvement. The notes already sounded stronger.

Christine smiled at him. "You see? It makes all the difference."

He nodded grudgingly. "Please can I sing the opera songs now?"

Christine gave a musical laugh, and he blushed under the mask. "We have quite a bit to do before that."

Perhaps she thought his voice was not up to this, after all. "I see."

She seemed to understand his misgivings, because she looked him in the eye.

"Erik, I need you to know that this isn't personal. It's what I do with all my students. It's not a criticism of you, or of your voice. Do you understand?"

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

"Good." She turned back towards the piano. "Now, we're going to try to work out where your natural range lies. I'll play the note and you sing it at the same time. You have a good ear. This should be no problem for you."

Erik waited. Christine picked out a note in the middle of the keyboard. It was a note he could not name, but he knew he could sing it quite comfortably.

He did so. Christine smiled. "Very good. We'll continue, and I want you to tell me if you feel any discomfort. Don't try and strain to reach the notes."

Erik had no idea that learning to sing would prove so tedious.

Christine played a note.

He sang it.

Christine played a higher note.

He sang it.

This went on for quite some time, each note progressively higher.

Christine paused. "Any discomfort yet?"

"No."

They carried on. Play, sing. Play, sing.

Erik felt a catch in his voice, and stopped. "I think…there," he said.

Christine was giving him a distinctly odd look. He couldn't tell if she was impressed, or if he had done something wrong.

"All right," she said. "That's…interesting."

Erik folded his arms. Interesting? What the hell did that mean?

"All right," she said. "I'm going to play that middle C again, and this time, we're going to try some lower notes…"

And so it began again. Play, sing, play, sing ("Any discomfort yet?" "No").

Finally, Erik's voice grew hoarse. "That's too low," he said.

Christine pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. "Did you feel more comfortable singing higher, or lower?"

"Higher, I think. But lower was all right too."

She stared at the piano and murmured something which sounded like quite extraordinary,but he couldn't be sure.

"You have an extensive range," she said. "A naturally high tenor, but with a baritone extension as well. It's really…quite unusual."

Erik dug his fingers into the fabric of his coat. He wasn't sure how he felt about having a 'quite unusual' voice. It sounded like just another thing which would make him 'odd', or 'strange', or 'different.' He didn't want his voice to be different.

Christine raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I…" He swallowed. How could he possibly explain? "I'm…not sure I want to do this."

"Why not?"

"You think my voice is unusual. Perhaps it's not so pleasant to listen to."

Christine rose from the piano stool. "Erik, you have a gift. A unique and beautiful voice. The fact that it's different doesn't mean it's bad."

He said nothing. Experience had taught him that this simply wasn't true, and yet the sentiment was a pleasant one.

"I see," he said, although he really didn't.

"We will need to practice, of course. I said your range was extensive. That doesn't mean your voice is particularly strong. Not yet. But I can help you. We can meet here. Every evening, if you like." She actually sounded excited by the prospect. Her eyes were shining. "You could be such a great singer. Please say you'll come back?"

He was silent for a moment, grappling with his self-doubt.

When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Very well."