It seems, my wonderful reviewers, that we have a special reader in the house…we have an honest-to-God "Madeline" reading along with us…I love the name, and it seemed to fit this little girl well, as I'm sure it does you! So, how does it feel having the same name as Erik and Christine's love child? teehee!
Well we're just getting started. Here's my last update today. Don't worry, we'll see Mr. Erik soon enough. Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!
-Nico
"She truly is a gift, Christine," Madame Giry said as the three woman sat in the living area of Madame Giry's quarters within the Opera Populaire. Madeline had been immediately drawn to the far corner of the older woman's private chambers, where heaps of old costumes sat, waiting to be discarded or used again in a brand new opera.
"Thank you, Madame," Christine said earnestly, smiling as she watched her daughter ease her small feet in to a pair of ballet slippers.
Her smile faded as she turned to face the Girys.
"Why have you brought me here," Christine asked, keeping her voice low.
Madame Giry looked to Meg, who grasped her mother's hand.
The two looked to Christine, who was nervously fidgeting with her skirts. "What is it?" She pressed.
"Christine," Madame Giry began, taking a deep breath. "He is alive."
Christine's stomach rolled; her face went deadly pale. Meg was instantly at her side, wrapping an arm around Christine's shoulder.
"Wh-who?" She asked, her throat dry. Meg closed her eyes briefly. "Raoul…"
As the name passed her lips, Christine felt as if she might be ill.
Many times she had thought about her ex-fiancé. She knew that he would always be a presence in both hers and Erik's life; it was something they both had come to terms with some time ago. There was even a point where she and Erik had agreed on feeling hints of pity for the young Vicomte, regardless of the actions which ultimately ended his life…
or so Christine had thought.
"Raoul is alive?" She said, more to herself than to the Girys. Madame Giry nodded. "How is it possible? It can't be!"
Meg squeezed her arm around Christine tighter. "It's true, Christine."
"But I saw him…I saw him die!" Christine said, lowering her voice when Madeline paused in her play to turn and face her mother.
"You saw him get shot and fall to the ground," Madame Giry corrected her. "And I was there, Christine. I admit, I thought he had passed as well." She elegantly rose, walking over to where Christine sat, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But it would appear, dear child, that we were both wrong."
Christine raised her eyes to Madame Giry, tears spilling over her cheeks with the action. She wiped them away quickly. "What does this have to do with me, Madame?" Her voice was a mere whisper, no more than a hush of silk against silk.
Meg looked to her mother, who nodded at her. Quickly, on silent, slippered feet, Meg moved over to her mother's large desk and opened the top drawer.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper and quickly returned, handing it to Christine.
"He has been sending letters to the Opera for some time now," Madame Giry explained. "This latest one was addressed to me. Most of the others were directed to the management, no doubt containing the money that has kept this Opera flourishing," she placed a finger under Christine's chin. "Even after such scandal."
Christine wiped another tear from her cheek. "But this letter," she tapped a thin finger to the paper Christine now held in her hand. "This letter was different. Not because it was addressed to me, but because of what it contained."
She motioned for Christine to open the folds of the paper.
Christine took a deep breath and did so.
Madame,
I have now sent the Opera House several notes of a most amicable nature, sorting out the details that allow the theater to be run.
I regret to inform you, my good woman, that this letter will not be as harmonious in nature as those of the past.
Now that I have fully healed from the atrocities of what was nothing short of a war, I believe it is time to compose the finale to this little production.
I am aware of where your loyalties currently lay, Madame, and I will take this opportunity to remind you where they should be. Perhaps I am not making myself clear.
Perhaps it is better that way.
Wrongs need to be righted, my good woman. I look forward to your full cooperation in the matter.
I would hate to see any harm befall the Giry family.
Your Obedient Patron,
R.C.
The note fell from Christine's cold hand, fluttering to the ground at Madame Giry's feet.
"This can't be real," Christine whispered. "This cannot possibly be real." She looked at Meg and her mother. "What is being done?"
Madame Giry shrugged. "I have never been one easily intimidated by threats," she said, an air of superiority to her tone.
"We are frightened, of course, Christine," Meg spoke softly. "But we received this letter almost a month ago now, and there has been no word..."
"But there will be," Christine shot back. "Meg, you didn't see him in those last days. He was crazed; nothing like the man I once knew." She stood, biting her thumbnail nervously. "He almost killed Erik," she whispered. "And I mourned for Raoul," she said, looking up at Madame Giry. "But not as much as I would have for Erik."
The room fell silent except for the quiet chattering of Madeline, who continued to play, completely innocent of the situation going on around her.
"Why didn't you contact me sooner to tell me he was alive?" Christine asked, her back to the women as she watched Madeline. "You've known for four years. Why tell me now?"
"I knew better than anyone of the horrors Erik had been made to suffer his entire life," Madame Giry said. "He had finally received what he had always wanted…always deserved. He had your love…and then a child! How could I disrupt that peace…that heaven that had remained just beyond his touch for so many years?"
Christine was crying freely now.
Madame Giry picked up Raoul's note. "This is the first letter I have received that implicated danger may be on the horizon. I thought you should know the truth before it was too late."
Christine blanched again.
Madame Giry still sought to protect her, even after all this time.
Even at her own expense.
Christine would not allow herself to be so weak in such a strong woman's presence.
She turned back to face Madame and Meg Giry.
"And so it seems the play shall continue," she said, forcing her voice to sound even, although her hand was shaking at her throat.
Madame Giry smiled bitterly. "And it would also seem, my dear, that we have all been recast."
