Author's Note: Thank you so much again for reading, and for all the lovely reviews! I'm so glad this story is being read and enjoyed :)
ghostwritten2: Yes, Petrie's Music and Instruments is indeed a nod to Professor Petrie, the Phantom in the 1962 film. Well spotted, and thanks for reading!
Chapter Seven: 'Give me thy hand, oh fairest…'
Gerard had made a habit of attending the show at least once a week, to make sure it was in good shape and gauge the reactions of his audience.
He always sat at a table at the very back, so as not to distract the performers while he made notes.
It had been a month since the review in The London Times, and as he looked around, he could see that the theatre was not as full as it had been. He knew he couldn't complain; it had been an excellent year so far. Inviting Christine Daae to sing at his music hall was, without doubt, the best decision of his career. She had brought an air of respectability to his venue which had been missing, and this in turn had attracted a different, largely music-loving, clientele.
But he knew this wouldn't last forever. Ticket sales were already dwindling, and some of the acts were growing stale. Besides, it would soon be summer. If the weather was hot, his new class of patron would desert the theatre for outdoor entertainments.
It was time to address the important question of which contracts to renew.
On the stage, poor Robert was performing a rather pedestrian card trick. He would have to go, of course. Gerard had always known that hiring two magicians was a gamble, and Erik was simply the bigger draw. If he could combine Erik's skill and showmanship with Robert's more approachable personality, he would. But the two men had made their animosity towards each other clear. They had absolutely no intention of working together.
So he would keep Erik, and lose Robert.
And he would keep Christine Daae, if he could entice her to stay. He was almost certain she would. He still didn't understand why she had been so keen to perform in London, but she did not seem in any hurry to return to Paris.
As he watched her perform that night, he couldn't help thinking that he needed to make more of her act. Yes, as far as Christine was concerned, he needed to find a new trick. But what could that be? If she had been almost anyone else, he could have made a spectacle out of her. Perhaps he would have asked La Sorelli and her dancers to perform with her, or requested that she sang a bawdy comic song while wearing a ridiculous costume.
But Christine was not that kind of performer. She was an artist. She stood on stage, and she sang, and the audience marvelled at her voice. There was absolutely no point in draping her in cheap paste jewellery or asking her to learn dance steps.
Gerard sighed. What to do?
Christine had come to the end of 'Poor Wand'ring One', which had become a crowd favourite. She bowed to enthusiastic applause, retrieving a red rose which one of her admirers had thrown onto the stage. She lifted it to her nose, smiled that dazzling prima donna's smile, and bowed again.
For a moment, it seemed ridiculous that she was even here. She should be taking her bows at the Royal Opera House, holding the hand of some handsome tenor who was as talented as she was.
Gerard dropped his pencil. A handsome tenor. Now that was a thought!
Perhaps he could hire another singer to perform duets with Christine. It would add variety to the performance and keep the music lovers happy. Perhaps Christine knew someone at the Paris Opera who she could invite, another star of equal brilliance.
Yes! A tenor was the way to go. Or maybe a baritone. Would a baritone be cheaper? They didn't have to sing all those high notes, after all.
Gerard began to scribble furiously in his pocket book.
He would speak to Christine Daae at the next opportunity.
2.
Christine could no longer contain her laughter.
"Erik, you look as if you're offering me a dead fish!"
He hid his unlovely hand beneath the folds of his coat. "Sorry."
She waved the apology away. "Don't worry. Just remember that you're Don Giovanni. Don Giovanni wouldn't cringe like that when he offered Zerlina his hand."
Erik was silent. He had never been to the opera, and consequently he had never seen Don Giovanni. But he was willing to bet that the character did not have big, cold, greyish hands with freakishly long fingers. He preferred to keep them tucked away where Christine couldn't see them. 'Dead fish' was about right.
"Christine, do I have to do these…acting parts? Can't I just sing?"
"Opera is about far more than just singing. It's about expressing emotion, characterisation…" She smiled mischievously. "Although, I must admit that not all opera singers seem to know that."
Erik looked at the floor. "But I'm never going to be an opera singer, am I? So what does it matter?"
She was quiet for a long time. He looked up and saw her staring at him with sadness in her eyes. "You can't know that."
He sighed. "Christine. I'm never going to be an opera singer. The only way I'm going to appear in an opera is if I write one myself and call it 'Erik: The Masked Magician'. And even then I believe my acting skills would leave much to be desired. So please, can we just sing?"
Christine pursed her lips. Then she reached for the score and turned back to the beginning of the duet. "Very well. We'll just sing."
"Thank you."
"Start from 'Give me thy hand, oh fairest…'"
The first time Christine suggested they should sing a duet, Erik had been terrified. His first thought was that he was not good enough, that he would never be good enough. He had almost resorted to his old method of self-preservation, which was to flee into the wings.
But Christine had gently persuaded him to try. She had told him – with a degree of insight that was almost alarming – that he had no reason to be embarrassed, and that if he made a mistake, it did not matter. Furthermore, she said that she wanted to sing with him, that she believed their voices would go well together.
And she was right. They did.
Three weeks had gone by since that first duet. And although Erik still did not like acting, he now thought that singing with Christine was perhaps his greatest pleasure. Singing with her was…fun. But it was more than that. It also made him feel…connected. Less alone.
Erik sang Don Giovanni's part, asking Zerlina for her hand. Zerlina refused, and he tried to persuade her. And although none of it was real, Erik found himself wondering what it would be like to really take Christine's hand. This was a disconcerting thought, which he attempted to banish.
"My heart is fondly thine..."
Why did these opera characters constantly have to sing about love? It was as though they could think of nothing else. It was ridiculous and nothing at all like real life…
"Erik? Are you listening to me?"
Erik realised that the duet had come to an end, and he was still staring at Christine's hand. His face grew hot beneath the mask.
"My apologies, Christine. What did you say?" He sounded flustered.
Christine gave him an odd look. "I said: you say you don't like acting, but you sound like you mean what you're singing. And that's the most important thing." She closed the score and smiled at him. "Would you like to choose a solo?"
"Can't we sing another duet?"
"I'd like to just listen to you now, if that's all right. What would you like to sing?"
Erik considered this. "Can I try The Pearl Fishers again?"
"You mean 'Je crois entendre encore'? Certainly."
Je crois entendre encore – 'I think I still hear' – had become Erik's favourite piece. It was simple enough, really; Christine had explained the scene to him. A man stood alone on a beach, recalling a secret meeting with the woman he loved. Erik always felt perfectly natural singing this aria. It suited his high tenor, and it was rueful and plaintive and dark. He did not have to force the emotions, or pretend to be different from who he was. There were no lascivious libertines here, just a man alone, singing beneath the stars.
He could let his voice do all the work.
Erik sang to Christine, and dared to hope that he was getting better.
3.
Christine could not remember ever feeling such pride as she felt now, listening to her unlikely protégé sing to an empty auditorium.
Every day, she pushed him a little further, and every day, she listened as his voice grew finer and stronger. But tonight it was like watching the blossoming of a glorious rose. Potential finally grew into artistry, and then unbearable beauty. An eerie beauty which echoed in the dark theatre and brought tears to her eyes. She had cried at Erik's voice before, but now his song had both power and confidence. His voice would make an entire audience fall over weeping in the aisles. She had no doubt that people would come from miles around to listen, if only they knew. And he would break their hearts and mend them again without ever knowing what he did.
The song came to an end in one last, high, flawless note.
Christine realised her tears had fallen onto her hands, now still against the piano keys.
"Was that all right?" said a quiet voice.
She looked up to see him standing in his usual position, shoulders slightly hunched, his hands clasped awkwardly in front of his chest. His face was only half turned towards her, as if he didn't dare meet her eyes.
She stood up, brushing away her tears. "Oh, Erik. What am I going to do with you?"
It was the wrong thing to say. He flinched. "I knew it. My voice does not please you."
She almost laughed. "Your voice is extraordinary. I only meant that...I'm not sure what more I can do. I think you're ready."
"Ready for what?" He sounded confused.
"To perform." She took a step towards him. "Now, I know you don't see yourself as an opera singer, but there are other places you could sing. Recitals, concerts, choirs…I'm sure there are places you could audition as a soloist…" She could hear her own voice growing more and more excited. "I could even get in touch with the London Conservatoire, see if they have any ideas…"
"No!" He was looking straight at her now, his eyes wide with something close to panic. "Not…yet. Please, Christine, I'm sure I have more to learn…"
Christine was silent, shocked by the strength of his protest. In her experience, learning always had a purpose, a sense of direction. She had been given singing lessons so she could attend the conservatoire, and she had attended the conservatoire so she could audition for opera companies. It had been the same with her students in Paris. Most of them had been too rich and titled to ever think of disgracing their families by performing at the Paris Opera, but they at least wanted to sing in their fancy salons and drawing rooms in front of their highborn friends.
Performing in front of others had always been the aim, but Erik seemed to have no desire to do this. Unless, of course, he was just scared.
Perhaps, if they continued to work together, he would eventually come round to the idea.
"There's always more to learn," she said at last. "I'll coach you for as long as you like." Or for as long as it takes you to step out of the shadows.
"Thank you, Christine." He was looking at her with bright, intense eyes. They almost seemed to glow against the dark backdrop of the stage. "I…do enjoy singing with you."
There was something oddly confessional about his tone which caught her off guard. She found herself turning away from him and closing the score.
"You're welcome, Erik," she said. "You did very well tonight."
There was a silence. She glanced at him and saw that he was twisting a fold of his coat in one hand. He looked as though he was trying to summon the courage to speak again.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Not at all." He slipped into the wings, a shadow dissolving into shadow. "Good night, Christine."
4.
The theatre had not been entirely empty during Erik's singing lesson.
After the performance, Gerard had gone to the stage door with the intention of speaking to Miss Daae before she left for the night. The idea of finding a duet partner for her had occupied his thoughts for the remainder of the show, and he was keen to make a start on the project as soon as possible.
He waited at the stage door for fifteen minutes, watching as the other performers all left. But Christine was not amongst them.
He went to her dressing room and knocked on the door several times, but there was no answer. Believing he must have somehow missed her, he began to make his way back downstairs.
It was then that he heard the muffled sounds from the auditorium. Two voices, singing. One of them sounded like Christine, and the other was male: a rich, smooth baritone.
A baritone! Gerard could hardly believe his ears, or his luck. He crept towards the auditorium to investigate. He quietly mounted the steps which led backstage and stood, unseen, in the darkness of the wings.
Christine was seated at the piano, providing accompaniment while she sang her half of the duet. Standing next to her, looking over her shoulder at the music, was the tall, dark figure of…Erik, the magician.
Gerard blinked. Erik could sing? Why did he not know this?
Gerard had not realised Christine knew the magician. What was their connection? Could they be lovers? The duet sounded romantic enough. But no, no. Not lovers. The magician was far too…distant for that.
The song came to an end. They had a brief conversation, and Gerard realised what was going on.
Christine Daae was teaching Erik. This was why he had wanted the opera scores.
A moment later, Erik began to sing again. This time, he sang with a high, haunting tenor. Gerard listened, wondering if this was another of Erik's illusions, because how could a man have two voices?
When the song was over, Gerard continued to stand in the wings, his mind whirling with ideas. He was vaguely aware of Erik and Christine having a short, intense conversation, but he let it drift over his head.
He watched as Erik stepped into the opposite wing. Then, a moment later, Christine gathered up her music books and left the stage. Gerard dived behind the backdrop to avoid being seen. He did not want Christine to think he was the sort of man who eavesdropped on private singing lessons.
He knew, with a showman's instinct, that he had heard something extraordinary. He also knew that it could provide a solution to his problems.
Erik and Christine were his two most popular acts. If audiences saw them perform together…well, he was quite certain he could fill the theatre for the whole summer. He had no doubt that audiences would flock to see the dark magician sing with a seasoned opera star. The new act would have both novelty and class. His little theatre would be famous!
It was too late to speak to Christine, but he needed to speak to someone. And fortunately, that person was still in the theatre.
Five minutes later, Gerard was in the attic, knocking on the magician's door.
Author's Note: 'Je crois entendre encore' from Bizet's opera The Pearl Fishers was adapted by Ken Hill for his musical version of Phantom. In this musical, the song is called 'While Floating High Above', and it's sung by the Phantom in the graveyard scene (with very different lyrics). If you'd like to hear something hauntingly beautiful, John Owen-Jones sings it on his latest album, Spotlight.