A/N - All right. You've all been waiting for SOMETHING to happen. so
hopefully it will occur in this chapter. I had several ideas for it, but
now I give up and am just winging it with a single picture of a possibility
in my mind.
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Chapter 8: Temptations
"I am absolutely amazed." Monsieur Reyer was saying excitedly to Erik after rehearsals had ended, and people were packing up to go home for the evening. Erik had just checked in on Madeline, who had apparently gone to work immediately after the managers hired her, painting scenery with a few other stage hands. There were always sets to be touched up, and brand new ones in the making. Such a job would keep her busy until she became cross- eyed. But at least it was better work than working at the tavern. Now, he was watching the chorus instructor with a polite and humbled gaze. "I have never seen anything like that happen in this theatre my entire life. Are you certain you picked the right profession? You should be the instructor and not the star!"
"What's wrong with being both?" Erik chuckled. "Really, I am very happy to tutor the talented voices that need my help. But I'd much rather sing if truth be told."
"And you sing very well." Monsieur Reyer complimented quietly. Erik bowed his head in humbled thanks. This mans opinion meant a surprisingly great deal to him. "Perhaps we can continue to help each other. Tomorrow I'm going to be working on the wedding scene with the chorus. Perhaps you'll be able to take a bit of time with Mlle Longiè and Monsieur Duvall on the seduction scene."
"Which one?" Erik asked jokingly. Of course, he knew perfectly well that the instructor was talking about the scene from 'Don Giovanni' in which Zerlina seduces her husband after being beaten by Giovanni. Monsieur Reyer rolled his eyes, then chuckled, finally having picked up all the scattered scores which some careless chorus members had left behind when they went home. He'd always hated that so few of the chorus practiced outside of rehearsals.
"Erik . . ."
Turning, he smiled quietly at Christine as she stood wearing her soft coat over her dress. She was apparently ready to go home for the evening. Why, he wondered, had she stayed behind? They would have plenty of time to see each other during rehearsals for many months - maybe even years - to come. Glancing and Monsieur Reyer, he bid the man a good evening, and then turned to walk off the stage and into the corridor with Christine.
"Is there something I can do for you?" He asked courteously, offering her his arm. She took the offered limb quietly, her eyes deliberately not meeting his. That was odd. All during that day, she had rarely looked away from him. Especially when they were speaking directly to one another. He wondered why she was suddenly so shy.
"I still do not feel comfortable in the balcony scene." She said quietly. Erik knew she was referring to the point in the opera where her character, Donna Elvira, would be seduced by Leporello, the cowardly henchman of Giovanni. For their production, at least, these scene would take place at a balcony. "I was wondering if you would go over it again with me."
"It will be vaguely hard to go over it without our Leporello here." He pointed out with a smile. "But I can help you with your part. I'd be delighted to, Christine."
"Thank you . . ." She said simply until they were back in a small practice room. Erik did not think as she removed her coat and slung it over a chair that was placed against a wall. As Erik put his score on the music stand of the grand piano, he removed his cloak and moved to lay it gently on the same chair, while tenderly straightening out her coat.
"Such fine material. You shouldn't let it be spoiled." He told her quietly. He turned to smile at her, and then moved towards the piano. Christine only gave him a very soft flicker of a smile as he sat at the piano bench, and fingered through the score to 'Don Giovanni' until he found the scene she wanted to go over. "Shall we begin?" His back was partially to her now. He assumed that she would move to stand closer to his side, so he might better hear her mistakes - if there were any to begin with.
Beginning to play, he listened very carefully as Christine began to sing. Oh, it was heavenly to have her singing for him once more. Earlier, in rehearsal, he had been forced to share her voice. He would always have to share her voice. Yet whenever she asked privately for him to help her, she would be singing for him alone. He could continue to wonder in the voice he had helped to create and give strength to. He dared to still believe that he had even been the one to place the inspiration in her voice. Only her voice could ever cause such fine tremors to go through him. As he played, he slowly closed his eyes, just listening to her, able to know she was slowly coming closer to him.
The temptations that soared through him when he thought about how she would be so near him. She would dare to come within only a few feet of him when they were so achingly alone, and knew how unlikely it was they would be bothered. His fingertips began to tingle and ache, but he did not falter as he played along with her voice. To falter now would be to break the delicate spell her voice had created over him. He did not wish to leave the moment so suddenly, even though he knew that eventually he must.
The scene was nearly over, and she had not faltered once. He was amazed, even though he knew how wonderful her voice was. Never had she sung so faultlessly. Never. Slowly, his eyes began to open. And just then he felt a hand gently take his shoulder. He did not show any surprise, for he knew it belonged to her. Yet his muscles had to tighten. It felt as though electricity were running through his entire body.
She would tempt him so much when she knew perfectly well that his feelings for her had not died!
"Erik?"
He opened his eyes fully, and looked down at his hands. He hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end. He was only aware of the pressure her fingers continued to create on his shoulder. Turning his head, he looked down at her hand, and then brought his own up to pick her fingers up, and bring them lightly to his lips. He simply had to kiss her hand. He swore to himself he'd do nothing more. This would be such a small act of affection. Surely she would not begrudge him simply letting her know that he still loved her.
"Christine. . ." He sighed softly, bringing the back of her hand to his cheek. Oh, it was marvelous for her not to shrink away from him in fear or revulsion! It was so amazing! It was something that he would never stop feeling shock over. "Oh . . . my dear Christine. . ." Slowly, he released her hand, and stood up.
"What's wrong, Erik?" She asked in concern. Erik turned to look into her eyes. She was still so naive! Still so innocent! Even after all that had happened between them. . . even after all she knew! Managing another smile, he touched her cheek quickly.
"I need to be going." He whispered. "You did perfectly, my dear. Please excuse me for leaving you in a hurry."
"Is something wrong?" She insisted as he swept past her to retrieve his cloak. Turning, he looked back at her over his shoulder. His muscles were still tensed. To think that even as a handsome young man, he was still so tormented by his body!
"No, ma Cherie." He promised. "Nothing is wrong. I am just reminiscing with myself. I also must go see the twins. You remember them, don't you? They were with me at the auditions." He was glad to have something to abruptly occupy his mind. It also proved a good excuse to hurry out. "I promised they could spend the day with me, but rehearsals started today and I had no time to tell them. I must go apologize to them. Maybe I'll take them out to supper."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She gasped. "I shouldn't be keeping you, then!"
"Nonsense!" He scolded. "You know that you come before anything else. Even if it is for something as small as giving you help on a difficult part!" He smiled at her more genuinely, and then turned to hurry out of the room. "Adieu for now, my dear."
He closed the practice room door behind him, making certain that Christine would not come searching after him. Then, after a moment, he picked his hand up from the doorknob, turning to flee down the hallway, and into one of the secret wall panels. He would go to see Madeline, he thought to himself. He would tell her that he was going to find her daughters and son, and take them all to supper. He was anxious to forget what he'd just experienced in the practice room. If he did not push it aside immediately, it would taunt him all knight.
Madeline was painting a set in the right wing of the stage, left alone by her supervisor and other painters for a moment. He had to smile as he came out of his hiding place. She was obviously a very hard worker. Even when everyone else left or gave up, she was still there to try and get the job done. How very dedicated of her.
"Good evening, Madeline." He greeted softly, startling her blatantly. Madeline gasped, and turned, a smear of blood red paint on her left cheek. He chuckled, reaching down to pick up a rag, and then moved closer to her as she realized who was behind her. Reaching up, he gently wiped away the smear that marred her pretty face. "I don't think you want to go out into the streets looking like this." He teased softly.
"Monsieur Erik, you startled me." She said honestly, blushing a little bit. Erik found her blush endearing. Much like he found the attentions of her daughters endearing.
"That, my dear Madeline, is quite apparent." He laughed gently. "Please, you don't need to call me Monsieur all of the time. Call me Erik. It is all that anyone has ever called me before . . . when the chose to address me at all."
"Why wouldn't they?" She asked, turning back to the set she was painting. She began to work at it while talking to him at the same time.
"It's a long story." He said simply. "One I would rather not get into. Well . . . do you plan on being here much longer?"
"I'm going to put another coat of paint on these stubborn apples." She said, pointing to the said fruit on the set of the apple tree. "The green of the leaves keep showing through!"
"What made them have you paint?" He asked curiously.
"One of my hobbies before I married my husband was artistry." She explained softly. "What are you still doing here, Mon -- Erik? I thought that everyone had gone home for the night."
"Almost everyone has." He conceded. "I just wanted to ask if it was all right that I took your little ones out for supper. It seems you're going to be here a while longer, and I'm need to make my apologies for not taking them with me today. I promised them I would."
"Yes . . . Marguerite mentioned that this morning." Madeline said thoughtfully. "She told me to scold you."
Erik smirked.
"Are you going to scold me, Madeline?" He asked softly, his voice gentle but teasing at the same time. He almost sounded sincere.
"Of course not!" She laughed outright, not noticing how he was all but flirting with her. Erik didn't even realize it himself, so there was no real point in either party acknowledging it. "I think Marguerite will scold you plenty enough on her own. You don't need me to scold you on top of it!"
"Quite true." He sighed. "Ah, well . . . good evening, Madeline. I do hope that this works out for you."
"So do I." She agreed softly, smiling as he made himself a part of the shadows once more.
Once back outside, Erik felt refreshed. The episode with Christine was all but forgotten. Encountering Madeline with her soft sweetness had been just the thing he needed to forget the alluring innocence of his protégé. Having almost no attraction whatsoever to the somewhat older woman had cooled his lusts.
Now he had to find the children.
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Chapter 8: Temptations
"I am absolutely amazed." Monsieur Reyer was saying excitedly to Erik after rehearsals had ended, and people were packing up to go home for the evening. Erik had just checked in on Madeline, who had apparently gone to work immediately after the managers hired her, painting scenery with a few other stage hands. There were always sets to be touched up, and brand new ones in the making. Such a job would keep her busy until she became cross- eyed. But at least it was better work than working at the tavern. Now, he was watching the chorus instructor with a polite and humbled gaze. "I have never seen anything like that happen in this theatre my entire life. Are you certain you picked the right profession? You should be the instructor and not the star!"
"What's wrong with being both?" Erik chuckled. "Really, I am very happy to tutor the talented voices that need my help. But I'd much rather sing if truth be told."
"And you sing very well." Monsieur Reyer complimented quietly. Erik bowed his head in humbled thanks. This mans opinion meant a surprisingly great deal to him. "Perhaps we can continue to help each other. Tomorrow I'm going to be working on the wedding scene with the chorus. Perhaps you'll be able to take a bit of time with Mlle Longiè and Monsieur Duvall on the seduction scene."
"Which one?" Erik asked jokingly. Of course, he knew perfectly well that the instructor was talking about the scene from 'Don Giovanni' in which Zerlina seduces her husband after being beaten by Giovanni. Monsieur Reyer rolled his eyes, then chuckled, finally having picked up all the scattered scores which some careless chorus members had left behind when they went home. He'd always hated that so few of the chorus practiced outside of rehearsals.
"Erik . . ."
Turning, he smiled quietly at Christine as she stood wearing her soft coat over her dress. She was apparently ready to go home for the evening. Why, he wondered, had she stayed behind? They would have plenty of time to see each other during rehearsals for many months - maybe even years - to come. Glancing and Monsieur Reyer, he bid the man a good evening, and then turned to walk off the stage and into the corridor with Christine.
"Is there something I can do for you?" He asked courteously, offering her his arm. She took the offered limb quietly, her eyes deliberately not meeting his. That was odd. All during that day, she had rarely looked away from him. Especially when they were speaking directly to one another. He wondered why she was suddenly so shy.
"I still do not feel comfortable in the balcony scene." She said quietly. Erik knew she was referring to the point in the opera where her character, Donna Elvira, would be seduced by Leporello, the cowardly henchman of Giovanni. For their production, at least, these scene would take place at a balcony. "I was wondering if you would go over it again with me."
"It will be vaguely hard to go over it without our Leporello here." He pointed out with a smile. "But I can help you with your part. I'd be delighted to, Christine."
"Thank you . . ." She said simply until they were back in a small practice room. Erik did not think as she removed her coat and slung it over a chair that was placed against a wall. As Erik put his score on the music stand of the grand piano, he removed his cloak and moved to lay it gently on the same chair, while tenderly straightening out her coat.
"Such fine material. You shouldn't let it be spoiled." He told her quietly. He turned to smile at her, and then moved towards the piano. Christine only gave him a very soft flicker of a smile as he sat at the piano bench, and fingered through the score to 'Don Giovanni' until he found the scene she wanted to go over. "Shall we begin?" His back was partially to her now. He assumed that she would move to stand closer to his side, so he might better hear her mistakes - if there were any to begin with.
Beginning to play, he listened very carefully as Christine began to sing. Oh, it was heavenly to have her singing for him once more. Earlier, in rehearsal, he had been forced to share her voice. He would always have to share her voice. Yet whenever she asked privately for him to help her, she would be singing for him alone. He could continue to wonder in the voice he had helped to create and give strength to. He dared to still believe that he had even been the one to place the inspiration in her voice. Only her voice could ever cause such fine tremors to go through him. As he played, he slowly closed his eyes, just listening to her, able to know she was slowly coming closer to him.
The temptations that soared through him when he thought about how she would be so near him. She would dare to come within only a few feet of him when they were so achingly alone, and knew how unlikely it was they would be bothered. His fingertips began to tingle and ache, but he did not falter as he played along with her voice. To falter now would be to break the delicate spell her voice had created over him. He did not wish to leave the moment so suddenly, even though he knew that eventually he must.
The scene was nearly over, and she had not faltered once. He was amazed, even though he knew how wonderful her voice was. Never had she sung so faultlessly. Never. Slowly, his eyes began to open. And just then he felt a hand gently take his shoulder. He did not show any surprise, for he knew it belonged to her. Yet his muscles had to tighten. It felt as though electricity were running through his entire body.
She would tempt him so much when she knew perfectly well that his feelings for her had not died!
"Erik?"
He opened his eyes fully, and looked down at his hands. He hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end. He was only aware of the pressure her fingers continued to create on his shoulder. Turning his head, he looked down at her hand, and then brought his own up to pick her fingers up, and bring them lightly to his lips. He simply had to kiss her hand. He swore to himself he'd do nothing more. This would be such a small act of affection. Surely she would not begrudge him simply letting her know that he still loved her.
"Christine. . ." He sighed softly, bringing the back of her hand to his cheek. Oh, it was marvelous for her not to shrink away from him in fear or revulsion! It was so amazing! It was something that he would never stop feeling shock over. "Oh . . . my dear Christine. . ." Slowly, he released her hand, and stood up.
"What's wrong, Erik?" She asked in concern. Erik turned to look into her eyes. She was still so naive! Still so innocent! Even after all that had happened between them. . . even after all she knew! Managing another smile, he touched her cheek quickly.
"I need to be going." He whispered. "You did perfectly, my dear. Please excuse me for leaving you in a hurry."
"Is something wrong?" She insisted as he swept past her to retrieve his cloak. Turning, he looked back at her over his shoulder. His muscles were still tensed. To think that even as a handsome young man, he was still so tormented by his body!
"No, ma Cherie." He promised. "Nothing is wrong. I am just reminiscing with myself. I also must go see the twins. You remember them, don't you? They were with me at the auditions." He was glad to have something to abruptly occupy his mind. It also proved a good excuse to hurry out. "I promised they could spend the day with me, but rehearsals started today and I had no time to tell them. I must go apologize to them. Maybe I'll take them out to supper."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She gasped. "I shouldn't be keeping you, then!"
"Nonsense!" He scolded. "You know that you come before anything else. Even if it is for something as small as giving you help on a difficult part!" He smiled at her more genuinely, and then turned to hurry out of the room. "Adieu for now, my dear."
He closed the practice room door behind him, making certain that Christine would not come searching after him. Then, after a moment, he picked his hand up from the doorknob, turning to flee down the hallway, and into one of the secret wall panels. He would go to see Madeline, he thought to himself. He would tell her that he was going to find her daughters and son, and take them all to supper. He was anxious to forget what he'd just experienced in the practice room. If he did not push it aside immediately, it would taunt him all knight.
Madeline was painting a set in the right wing of the stage, left alone by her supervisor and other painters for a moment. He had to smile as he came out of his hiding place. She was obviously a very hard worker. Even when everyone else left or gave up, she was still there to try and get the job done. How very dedicated of her.
"Good evening, Madeline." He greeted softly, startling her blatantly. Madeline gasped, and turned, a smear of blood red paint on her left cheek. He chuckled, reaching down to pick up a rag, and then moved closer to her as she realized who was behind her. Reaching up, he gently wiped away the smear that marred her pretty face. "I don't think you want to go out into the streets looking like this." He teased softly.
"Monsieur Erik, you startled me." She said honestly, blushing a little bit. Erik found her blush endearing. Much like he found the attentions of her daughters endearing.
"That, my dear Madeline, is quite apparent." He laughed gently. "Please, you don't need to call me Monsieur all of the time. Call me Erik. It is all that anyone has ever called me before . . . when the chose to address me at all."
"Why wouldn't they?" She asked, turning back to the set she was painting. She began to work at it while talking to him at the same time.
"It's a long story." He said simply. "One I would rather not get into. Well . . . do you plan on being here much longer?"
"I'm going to put another coat of paint on these stubborn apples." She said, pointing to the said fruit on the set of the apple tree. "The green of the leaves keep showing through!"
"What made them have you paint?" He asked curiously.
"One of my hobbies before I married my husband was artistry." She explained softly. "What are you still doing here, Mon -- Erik? I thought that everyone had gone home for the night."
"Almost everyone has." He conceded. "I just wanted to ask if it was all right that I took your little ones out for supper. It seems you're going to be here a while longer, and I'm need to make my apologies for not taking them with me today. I promised them I would."
"Yes . . . Marguerite mentioned that this morning." Madeline said thoughtfully. "She told me to scold you."
Erik smirked.
"Are you going to scold me, Madeline?" He asked softly, his voice gentle but teasing at the same time. He almost sounded sincere.
"Of course not!" She laughed outright, not noticing how he was all but flirting with her. Erik didn't even realize it himself, so there was no real point in either party acknowledging it. "I think Marguerite will scold you plenty enough on her own. You don't need me to scold you on top of it!"
"Quite true." He sighed. "Ah, well . . . good evening, Madeline. I do hope that this works out for you."
"So do I." She agreed softly, smiling as he made himself a part of the shadows once more.
Once back outside, Erik felt refreshed. The episode with Christine was all but forgotten. Encountering Madeline with her soft sweetness had been just the thing he needed to forget the alluring innocence of his protégé. Having almost no attraction whatsoever to the somewhat older woman had cooled his lusts.
Now he had to find the children.
