Thanks again for all your reviews! They especially helped through this chapter, which I had some difficulty writing. This will be entirely from Christine's point of view and the next chapter will show the other events occurring at the same time. If you find some things unclear, for example Raoul's attitude, they will likely be revealed in the following chapter.
The three story stone manor looked very similar to most of the other estates she had seen in her lifetime. Carefully landscaped with an array of now barren trees, the gray structure sat stoically by itself, almost blending in with the overcast sky. It lay two hours from the city, and the isolation gave Christine a lonely feeling as she stared up at what was to be her home for the next six to seven weeks.
The house belonged to one of the de Chagny family's close friends, Monsieur Jacques Ames. He allowed his eldest son, Laurent, and his wife, Sophie, to take residence there when they visited northern France. At this time, Laurent was off in England with relatives, and Sophie remained in the house alone with the maids and other servants. It seemed like an opportune place to allow Christine to rest and was the farthest that the Vicomte was able to conveniently get away from Paris.
Entering, Christine saw that the interior of the house emitted the same feeling as the outside. It was conspicuously cleaned and furnished expensively, yet seemed drab and empty. Every piece of mahogany furniture had the same design and every settee and sofa was the same dull shade of blue. She only saw as far as the enormous entryway before she was guided toward the winding stairwell of the left wing.
"You shall be staying on the second floor," said Raoul as he and one of his servants helped to lift her upwards. "I attempted to find a room with a nice view for you. If you squint, you can even make out the opera house, though...perhaps you do not wish to see it after everything that has happened."
"No. I would be very grateful to be able to see it, Raoul. I have many good memories from there." As she entered what was to be her bedroom, she was thankful to see that it had a little more color to it than the rest of the house. Light purple cotton sheets and blankets decked a queen-sized bed, and a gigantic ornate throw rug lay in the middle of the floor. The walls were a pure white color that gave the room a softer glow, and oak wood furniture lined the walls. There were also various dolls and ceramic objects set here and there, giving the room a slight childlike appearance. With some relief, she noticed that a shelf of books lined the wall and knew that they would help her pass the painful hours. She did have to admit it was more cheerful than the hospital room, but it did not lift her spirits significantly.
After making sure she was comfortable, Raoul introduced her to some of the maids and nurses that would be aiding her, but she doubted that she would remember most of the names. Sophie, the lady of the house, was out at the moment, and Christine gathered that she would not see much of her. Sophie's quarters were on the far right wing of the manor, and Raoul mentioned that she was not a sociable person. This news, along with the emptiness of the enormous abode, gave Christine an uneasy feeling.
The first three weeks passed as she expected them to. Many dull, idle hours were filled with romantic novels and her own private thoughts. At the advice of one of the nurses, she attempted to take up needlework but found herself to be useless at it. Raoul came by at least every other day to see her. She tried to pretend to be pleased with his visits, but her heart was never in the conversation, and he usually did most of the talking. As each day passed, she missed Erik more, and she prayed for his safety. It was odd. After so many months of trying to escape him, now she ached for his company and was not able to have it. The events of the last year began to seem like some surreal dream. Angels, underground labyrinths, and ghosts did not exist in the elaborately decked bedroom.
Her only connection to her former life came on Saturdays, when Madame Giry and Meg stopped by to pay visit, giving her the latest news and gossip at the opera house. She felt downcast as she heard of the many happenings, no longer connected to the glamorous world of the stage. On one occasion, when Madame Giry had left the room for a moment, Christine hesitantly asked Meg about the Opera Ghost. Meg frowned and said that nothing had been heard of him since the night of Don Juan, and Christine did not know whether to take this news as good or bad. If Erik was well, at least he was keeping a low profile.
It was during her fourth week there, though, that several changes suddenly occurred. On a Monday morning, Raoul walked into her room with an odd glint in his blue eyes and the traces of a smile upon his face. "Good morning, Christine," he greeted her as he strode confidently in.
"Good morning Raoul. Is everything well?" She attempted to discern what he was thinking.
"Yes, my love," he replied heartily, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Everything is wonderful. I feel better than I have in a long time, actually. But I do have some bad news, I am afraid."
"What is it?" she asked uncertainly.
"It seems that one of my land contracts in southern France has run into some difficulties. Someone thinks they own part of my purchase already, but I will not go into the dull details with you. Anyhow, I will need to take a trip down there for about two weeks to sort things out. You will be fine here by yourself, won't you?"
Christine was shocked that he was leaving her alone after being so concerned for her safety. Just several days ago, he had been considering hiring several guards to place near the front of the entryway. There was something odd about his sudden change of mind. "Yes. I will be fine here," she replied, watching him curiously. "Is...is there anything else?"
He looked uncomfortable for a brief moment. "No, that is all. I am simply excited about our upcoming future together. As soon as your ankle heals, we shall be married and finally begin our new lives." He chatted a while longer about wedding preparations, continuously keeping his cheerful demeanor and mentioning nothing of the turmoil of the past months. Finally, he stood. "Well, I shall come tell you goodbye tomorrow, my love. Rest well."
"Goodbye, Raoul." She had not seen him this optimistic in a very long time, and she could not shake the feeling that something was not quite right. As he departed, a tension overtook her. For a while she pondered what could make him change his mind so suddenly. Why had he not even mentioned her wellbeing? Sighing, she attempted to take her mind from the troubling thoughts and absorbed herself within a book.
The second change of events came the following day, when Raoul walked in accompanied by a man around his own age. Dressed in a meticulously pressed gray suit, he was moderately attractive with trim brown hair and hazel eyes. His face bore the smug expression, though, of someone quite used to getting whatever they desired.
"Christine!" said Raoul with a smile as he entered. "I would like you to meet Monsieur Laurent Ames, the resident of this house and an old friend of mine. Just today, I came to discover that he returned from England early. Though I was not expecting him till after we departed, I have to say that it will be good to have him here while I am gone."
"It is nice to meet you," she said quietly, staring nervously up at him. Though she was fully dressed, it was slightly odd being in bed with a strange man in her room.
"A pleasure, Mademoiselle," he replied with a small smile. "You are quite a beautiful woman. I am sure that Sophie would love to meet you." She blushed uncomfortably as his eyes grazed over her covered figure.
Raoul smiled, unaware of her discomfort. "Yes, she is. I am very fortunate to have her as my fiancée."
"Indeed." The two men talked business a moment as Christine looked on awkwardly, and then Laurent quickly excused himself so that the couple could say goodbye in private.
"Well, my Little Lotte, I shall hopefully see you in several weeks. By that time, your ankle should be healed." The Vicomte still carried the same cheerful tone of yesterday, completely at ease.
"Goodbye Raoul," she replied softly as he kissed her, a nervous feeling continuing to pursue her. She found herself not wanting to be alone in that home. A strange feeling began to sit at the pit of her stomach.
Several days passed without any new occurrences. Every day she wished for Erik to appear at her doorway and wondered if he was watching her from a distance. Although sometimes Christine felt like crawling on her hands and knees to the opera house, she knew that she must remain patient while she healed or she would endanger them both.
The following Friday night, Christine tossed and turned in bed as she was kept awake by the continuous drone of noise downstairs. She had heard the maids talk earlier of a party to be held that night to celebrate the homecoming of Monsieur Ames. From upstairs, she listened to the clatter of dishes and the sound of voices laughing and talking. Every once in a while there was a shout, likely coming from someone who had a tad too much to drink. Putting her pillow over her ears, she attempted to block out the noise.
At some late hour, though, the din finally died down and she began to drift off into a fairly peaceful sleep. About an hour later, she was awoken by the creak of her bedroom door opening. Startled, she sat up in bed and saw Monsieur Ames standing at the doorway in the dark, staring at her form. She shivered slightly, and her eyes widened. "Monsieur? What are you doing here?" she stuttered out.
He walked in with a dazed swagger. "Hello, Mademoiselle Daae," he slurred. "How are you feeling today?" She stared at him in fear. "Well, it is polite for a lady to answer, you know." The gentleman came closer, a disturbing lopsided smile upon his face.
"Please, Monsieur," she whispered. "Please leave. It is late." Christine prepared to scream for help.
"But you are so lonely in here. Don't you want company?" As he came nearer, she started to let out a shriek, pulling the covers tightly around herself. He raised a large hand to place over her mouth, and she could see that his hazel eyes were completely glazed over. "Shhh. Only want to talk to you, Mademoiselle." The alcohol on his warm breath was rancid.
With relief, she heard additional noise in her doorway and saw two maids rush in carrying lamps. Holding up the bright light over the bed, one called out to him. "Master! Master! This is Mademoiselle Daae's room, now. Come on. Let's get you back to your own quarters." She talked as if she were speaking to a small child and attempted to lead him away.
"I only want to talk to her. Get out, woman," he slurred gruffly, shrugging them away. They began to look helplessly around the room for a way to subdue him. At that moment, though, one of the man-servants rushed in, shaking his head in disgust.
"Come Monsieur. It is time to go to your own room with your wife. Leave the lady alone." He placed a firm grip on Monsieur Ame's shoulder and led him out of the room grumbling. The two maids followed closely behind muttering to one another.
One turned to Christine on the way out with an apologetic look. "I am terribly sorry, Mademoiselle. He becomes a little odd after he drinks too much. Hope you weren't frightened too badly." She shut the door carefully behind her with a soft click. Christine sat there still shivering in the dark.
The following morning, after barely getting a wink of sleep, Christine immediately requested a pen and a bottle of ink. Frantically, she began to scribble out a letter, carefully folding the piece of paper into a tight square when she was finished. Afterward, she anxiously awaited the arrival of Meg and Madame Giry. They were her only means of communication, and possibly her only way of escaping as soon as possible.
