A/N: If you did not catch the last chapter before it was buried with the other updates, please make sure you read it, because you'll be lost if you don't. About the end of this chapter- I am not saying that Constance has taken place of Gaston Leroux as the writer of the original book, but she does write down notes that would later help her, and in a fictional world, help Gaston Leroux write his masterpiece.
N.G.- about Messieurs, that is the correct form, I am told, when speaking of two or more Monsieur(s) together. But a huge thanks for your review. I love it, as always. And here is the quick update you hoped for.
Chapter 6- A Strange Affair
The rest of the day passed quietly… almost too quietly for her tastes.
While the men were away, until late in the evening, she was left with the women who dared not talk about what had passed earlier in the day. Joséphine and her sister seemed to be trying their best to skirt around the issues, obviously worried about how Christine would react with further talk about this Opera business. She was angry with Joséphine, that she would revert to her old meek ways, trying to keep any greater dissonance from occurring between everyone. Constance thought, for a moment, that perhaps Joséphine was doing the right thing by not continuing to speak of the issue, or even speaking privately with her about it, but after a while, her unquenchable need to be nosy and know everyone's business took over. And she rationalized this intrusiveness with the fact that she was running the Opera now, and needed to know anything that had happened before her. It would only help her in the end.
So she devised that the only way she would find out, without the men being able to speak with her that day, was to seek Christine out while she was alone. That time so happened after the men returned from their hunt and were busy cleaning themselves up, and the three wives were preparing their children for bed. Constance walked in the direction of the nursery that she had seen earlier on her tour about the mansion toward her own room. She paused in the doorway, looking into the room and finding Christine sitting in a wooden rocking chair with a bundle of soft pink blankets surrounding the babe. The sound of a clear, melodious song drifted toward her then, and she realized Christine was singing to the child… singing quite well, actually, even in the soft register.
Constance did not want to interrupt the moment between mother and daughter, but Christine held a note out and quieted down, shifting in the chair slightly to look back at her. She smiled slightly, "Please, Constance, come in."
She entered the room and walked toward Christine, and stood beside the chair, looking down at the pink-cheeked babe, this being the first time she was actually able to see the child. The child gurgled and smiled a toothless grin, her large blue eyes alive with a happy twinkle. The soft, light-colored fuzz on her round head was precious… her cherub cheeks, pinchable. She bemoaned then, with a heavy sigh, looking down at the perfect creation resting in Christine's arms. Oh how she had wanted her own children, especially with William, but now it seemed that hope was fading away from her.
"You have not spoken of her name yet," Constance said, trying to stop thinking about herself for one moment.
"Marguerite," Christine replied with a soft smile, moving her eyes back down to her child.
"A perfect name for such a beautiful child," she said.
Christine laughed lightly, "I think Philippe said the same thing when he first saw her… though I could tell he was disappointed that it wasn't a boy. As of yet, there is no one to carry on the Chagny name."
"Did you chose the name or did your husband?" Constance questioned.
"We came to it together," Christine said. "I do not know if you know the story… Philippe may have told you… but when we were very young, I lost a scarf in the sea and Raoul, who was there-."
"Saved your scarf. Yes, I heard about it," Constance nodded.
"We live in Brittany, near Brest now, where he grew up, so we often visit the beach. Her name only seemed obvious to us… a beautiful pearl," the young mother smiled again and let out a soft sigh, silence overtaking the room except for the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. Christine stood up and readjusted the babe in her arms, "Would you care to hold her?"
"I couldn't refuse that," she said, holding her arms out. Christine placed the bundle in her arms, giving her a pleasant smile. Constance adjusted the child, holding her closely to her chest and cooing lightly down at her.
The Vicomtess sighed again, and went to a nearby window, gazing out into the black of night with a faraway look in her eyes. She said quietly, "I suppose you came by to speak with me about the Opera."
"I can be quite transparent sometimes," she admitted, snuggling the child more closely.
"What would you like to know?" Christine questioned.
"You need not talk about it if you do not wish. The way everyone acts, I would imagine it is painful for you… whatever happened," Constance said, hoping that despite her gracious words, and not pestering Christine for information, would yield more information than if she asked outright.
Christine cleared her throat and turned to her, "It is not as painful as they seem to think that it is. Raoul especially shelters me too much now."
"Then tell me why Philippe and your husband act in such a way when the Opera is brought up in conversation," Constance said.
The young Victomess took a deep breath and started simply, "The Chagny family took over as the Patrons of the Opera Populaire when André and Firmin bought it. That is how Raoul and I once again met. I was a ballet dancer from the time I was seven and my father died. Madame Giry, the ballet mistress, took me under her wing and taught me as best as she could. Over time I got better, but then strange things started to happen. I heard a voice claiming to be my Angel of Music, that my father had always promised to send me when he was in Heaven. I was very young then, and naïve, and I believed the voice… I let it talk to me from wherever it came from… I let it teach me how to sing."
"On the night of my first performance, taking over for La Carlotta when she left, angry with another mysterious happening at the Opera, Raoul found me. My Angel of Music, also came to me, for the first time in the form of a man… through my mirror." Christine stopped then and shuddered slightly. "My Angel came to me in the visage of a man dressed in a dark cape and a white mask covering the right side of his face. I was so in awe over it, I did not think twice about the fact that I had gone through the mirror… or more accurately, went through the passage that the two-sided mirror hid. He took me… he did something to my mind, making me see nothing but what he wanted me to see. He was magical, my Angel of Music."
"He led me deep beneath the Opera, down the seven basements to the lake beneath the building. There he showed me his home… were he lived in dark and cold. He sang to me, he taught me… and he told me exactly what he had plans for. He had a mannequin there, with a wedding dress and veil on it, with the head molded into my face. The characteristics made it look as though I was staring straight back at myself," Christine said. "Oh, it was so horrible. I fainted, and the next morning, or so I presume it was, I woke to a maniacal little monkey clapping his cymbals together as the barrel organ beneath it played in discord to the organ in the background. I realized it had been no dream… that it had all been real and that some masked man had come and taken me away from my room."
Christine paused for a little while, letting silence hang between them a bit more, before continuing, "I grew curious and went to him, pulling his mask off to see what he was hiding. Oh, to my utter horror, I found not a human face beneath the mask, but a deformity like I had never seen before. I cannot explain it you… beyond that fact that it was grotesque. He went off cursing me, saying that I could never leave him and that hate could turn to love. I was so scared at the anger he acted in, a barely heard that. But soon it all became clear to me."
"This man was the Phantom or Opera Ghost," Christine said. "I realized that soon enough when he demanded I be placed in Il Muto as the lead. It did not happen, and he killed one of the stage hands the night of the opening performance. That was the night I told Raoul about the Angel of Music and that he was the one who took me after my first performance. We realized our love for each other that night, if we had not done so before… but there was something there. We both knew it. We felt it there, but we could see nothing. Now that I know what came to pass, I can say that it was the Phantom there, listening to us. He had wanted my love so badly…"
Constance stayed glued to the story Christine was telling. This would have made quite the story and could make some author famous someday if they ever wrote it down and tried to sell it. It was all just so fantastical enough it could be true. After all, truth was often more peculiar than falsehoods. "Then what happened?"
"The Phantom showed up at the New Year's masquerade, wearing all red and a Death's Head. I knew it was him, but I still found myself mesmerized," Christine said. "He had instructions about an Opera he had written in which I was to be cast as the lead. I didn't want to do it… I knew something would happen, so I went to my father's grave, trying to find some peace in the whole matter, only to be interrupted by the Phantom who again, somehow, entranced me into believing he was my Angel of Music. Raoul arrived just in time, and there was a duel… Raoul almost killed him, but my pity for the creature was too strong, and I held Raoul off from delivering the final blow. We returned to the Opera and heard nothing from him until opening night. He slipped into the character opposite me, for the final song, and I knew it was him. Piangi had a nice voice, but the Angel of Music's voice was much purer. The managers and Raoul had made sure there was plenty of armed guards about, but they did not realize it was him until it was too late and I unmasked him in front of everyone. He grabbed a hold of me and dragged be back down to his watery depths in hell, truly revealing to me the disturbed nature of this beast. He told me of his life… his unloving life. His mother casting him aside and out of her view, being shunned from everyone else because he was not normal."
"Oh it was horrible, Constance!" Christine sniffled then, the first show of true emotion since she first met the young woman. "He was so horrible… Raoul came to find me, and the Phantom caught him in his Punjab Lasso… or so he called it. He threatened to kill Raoul if I did not say I would marry him, or I would be let free, but only without Raoul as he would kill him. I did not know what I should do. It was such a decision… torn between my deep love for Raoul, and my pity and fear of the Phantom, my Angel of Music who had sculpted my voice from nothing."
"You obviously both got away…" Constance said then. "How did you manage?"
Christine shrugged her shoulders slightly, "I really do not know if God gave him a conscience for the last moments we were together, or if he just gave up. All I know is that I loved Raoul so much, I wanted to save him… so I agreed to stay with the disfigured man- disfigured inside and out- and kissed him as passionately as I could muster. He only let out a choking sob afterward, and yelled at us to leave him. To this day, I do not know how I feel about the Phantom, as even though he was deranged, he had only wanted beauty and love. He loved me… but I did not love him. I know this… and I often think about him… wonder if he is doing well. But Meg Giry and Madame Giry both tell me that after that night, he disappeared, never to return. Raoul has not allowed me to go back there yet, because he worries that the Phantom, if he was still there, could change his mind and start his stalking all over again."
There was then the soft clearing of someone's throat from the doorway. They both turned to find Raoul standing in the doorway, his hair still damp from his bathing. Christine hung her head, as though she were ashamed that Raoul had heard her saying such things. He walked into the room, and directly to her, wrapping his arms about her waist and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Raoul glanced back at Constance then, "Olivier said you knew nothing of this."
"I did not," Constance said. The story as frightening, and to know that the Phantom was still there worried her greatly. She had never been one to back down from a challenge, but this just might be the occasion to start. She would definitely have to think about it, long and hard, though in the back of her mind she knew she was too inquisitive over such matters to not continue on and learn all she could about the Phantom.
"Well, now you know," Raoul replied distantly.
That was when she said something she knew she would regret, but she had to say it. "I know this may be impertinent to ask, but everyone says the Opera Ghost is gone. I have seen no indication that he still haunts the place… perhaps you should come to Paris and walk through the theatre. It may help your healing."
Raoul looked at her as though she had five heads, and shook his head in a determined fashion, "I will not allow it, not after almost losing Christine such a short time ago."
"Raoul, do not say you will never allow me back there. Your brother said we would never be married, and yet here we are," Christine reminded with a gentle prodding of her voice. "Music is my life, you know that, with or without that creature."
Raoul sighed unhappily and shook his head again in dismay, biting his tongue so he said no more. Constance looked at the Vicomte and his wife, and said to Christine, "Perhaps when the time comes for me to look for a new soprano, you may come back and grace us with your presence."
"Perhaps then," Christine nodded solemnly, though Constance saw the flash of excitement of the offer go through the young Vicomtess' eyes.
Constance glanced down at the babe within her arms and smiled, glanced back up at Raoul, "Your daughter is beautiful, Raoul. She has your eyes."
"And her mother's perfect features in every other aspect," he smiled warmly, finally, and walked over to her, reaching out to take the child.
Constance sighed, "Well, I shall leave you three alone. I am quite exhausted after the trip here."
"We shall see you in the morning then, before mass," Christine called as she left. Constance left the nursery, and went directly back to her room, thinking about the story Christine had just told her. What a scary, perplexing story this was, and she needed to write it down before she forgot all the details. She sat down at the desk within the room, pulling out her leather bound book of paper she had sporadically kept as a diary since William's passing. Opening it up, she reached across the table for the pen propped up in its holder. Letting out a cleansing breath, she placed the nib to the paper and began to write the Strange Affair of the Phantom of the Opera.