Thank you reviewers, and for the French info Aranel Abielle! I can do Spanish as I've studied the language and the culture a bit (hence, the Spanish baritone and Constance's heritage) so my French knowledge is based on what I can learn on the internet and what I've read in various books.

How perfect could a chapter get? You've got everything from angst ridden Erik, tough Madame Giry, an on-her-toes manager, babies, the Chagny men… and the return of Christine.

Chapter 10- Golden-crowned Christine

He could not believe he had been so easily handled by that woman. For that matter that he had been so easily handled by anyone. Never had he allowed someone to tell him exactly what he was going to do, and actually agree to the conditions set forth. He was not governed by anyone other than himself, he had made that decision after escaping from the circus, and especially not by a completely insufferable woman like Madame Constance. And he certainly did not appreciate someone trying to hassle him into defenselessness with idiotic questions about his name and the origin of it.

He knew what she was trying to do, and it was not going to work.

But he did need to eat…

Oh this was such a vexing situation!

Or, mayhap, this manager was causing the vexing all on her own existence because of her unyielding personality and because of familial ties to the three people he could care less to see.

His troubles had really only just begun when the new manager took over and really mounted a serious argument against his demands before paying him or giving him anything. The managers in the past- including Lefevre- had all given him the money he required, because they held a healthy respect for his influence and what he could do should they not conform to his wishes. This Constance was foolish, though… much like André and Firmin. But her tomfoolery was different than that of her predecessors; her foolishness was trying to pry into his life. At least she did not turn her nose up at the idea that there was an Opera Ghost living with them in the theatre. She accepted the letters as real, and offered him a chance to prove his worth in the Opera. Granted, he was not thatpleasedwith having to reveal himself to her, but she seemed to know that getting him out of his comfortable darkness was the only way to make him either give up these requests, or fight for them.

So something had to be said for her intelligence and being able to understand that. He was impressed that she had the nerve to stand up to him with all the stories she had most certainly heard. She did not go huddle in a corner, begging for mercy after stating her opinion on matters. That, in itself, was something to be very admired about any woman of the age.

Sure, she was frightened when he entered her office unexpectedly, both times, but she recovered quickly and behaved around him as though he were nothing more than a contractor she would hire to work in the Opera. And she even knew the true happenings from Christine! How could she be so aloof to him when Christine had surely told him of the murders, and of her kidnapping? Surely the Comte and Raoul had embellished needlessly on issues to try to keep her away from the theatre. Nevertheless she was still there, challenging him, with a look of confidence on her face. What was this woman about that she could act like this? How could she act so bravely in the face of… this human distortion, inside and out?

It was true he did not go out in the light of day, and meet many women, but of the few he beheld here in the Opera, watching from his perches in the rafters or in his box, not one spoke with such an authority as Constance did. It was always the man the woman was with who spoke for her. A father, brother or husband always dictated her life, who she would marry, who she would take company with… what she would eat at a meal if there was a choice. Constance though… Constance was not like them. Even with her brother who had rushed in so suddenly after she had shrieked, had not second guessed her reason for being scared. Well, he probably was second guessing her in his mind, but the brother did not seem to take on the traditional role of not listening to her, and going on his own hunt for whatever had frightened her because he did not trust her.

That whole family was peculiar, from what he had seen in the past few weeks. They were not like others of the same position in society.

And then there was the quandary presented him with the mention of the names he wished he would never hear again. He could not accurately explain how he felt on the issue of the Chagnys once again coming back to the Opera Populaire. Finding out that they were in close relation with the new owners was not a pleasant surprise in the least. The Comte would be around often, supposedly to woo this Constance, and if what the brother said was correct, Christine and Raoul would be back to throw their love in his face again, while the damned ballet girl sang because of the gift he had given her! Even with his promise to Constance, he did not know what he was to do with Christine and Raoul both being in the vicinity again. He knew he would not hurt them, but it would be the most painful thing to see them together… more painful than watching them atop the roof on Apollo's Lyre confessing their love to each other.

What had turned from him thinking that perhaps Constance would be good for the Opera, was now a belief that nothing this family and Constance could do would be good for the Opera or himself. Not with Constance, and definitely not with the Chagny family coming back to Paris, and Christine being allowed to audition for lead Soprano- a position she would easily attain.

And though he had gone through such a meeting with the woman the previous afternoon, evoking all of these thoughts and new worries, he had left the office in such a hurry that he had forgotten to actually get the money. So he, again, was forced begrudgingly to resurface to try to catch Constance at an opportune time so that no other could see him. Unfortunately, though, this day was full of auditions for ballet dancers and orchestra spots, and Constance was out in the newly installed front row of the theatre, watching the auditions and practice take place.

He had come out into his box, through the paneling of wood, like he usually did on opera nights, and no one was around to see him, so he sat in one of the velvet upholstered seats still in the shadows, looking out over the balcony and down at the brightly lit stage. Constance sat quietly, looking as though she were paying more attention to the heap of papers in her lap than the dancers on stage. She worked with what light she could from the stage, since she still had no chandelier to light her work otherwise, squinting at some of the fine print. Really, what use was it to sit out here while the auditions went on if she had more important paperwork to do? He would never understand that, but he supposed it was to look involved with the Opera.

But if he were manager, he would have trusted Madame Giry to make the right decisions, and continued to work in his office. Glancing toward the stage then, he beheld the ballet mistress for the first time since that fateful night with Christine. She had stopped coming to see him after that, as she probably had very real reasons to believe he left and would never have anything to do with the Opera again. Or perhaps she had expected him to find her after escaping, rather than her having to look for him. For a moment he thought that she did not care for him anymore, because of the way he had treated her adoptive daughter, but when he finally went back to the caverns and his home to look over what damage had been done, he found a sum of money in a place only she knew of that had held him over until now, combined with the money saved from previous stipends. Surely she still thought about him… if she had been kind enough to leave that.

Nonetheless, this was still the first time he had seen her in almost two years. Had she thought him no longer there? Did she think him despicable? Would she look for him? Should he approach her again, or would she see to it that his crimes were atoned for? He was too worried to find out, but he wanted the best scenario to play out between them. After all, she had been the only woman to ever care for him.

Giry beat her cane on the wooden stage, sending resounding thumps through the auditorium in time with the delicate music being played by the pianist Reyer was also auditioning. Just like old times… so much activity that one found it really hard to concentrate on anything in particular. A ballerina stumbled slightly, rolling her ankle. She quickly hopped back into the exercises, but it was not as good as before, though she had not been anywhere close to perfect to begin with. Meg Giry walked along each row of carefully pirouetting girls, in the opposite direction of her mother, critiquing the girls as she went. It was obvious that little Meg had grown out of her ballerina costumes a long time past, but had never really taken on a teaching role as her mother had. Perhaps they had taught classes together while the Opera was closed, and had now earned her position beside her mother as an apprentice.

The cane stopped for a moment, and Giry glanced around, cringing outwardly. He heard it then. The pianist was hopelessly losing his rhythm and beginning to fumble the notes along with it. To the untrained ear, it might have still been pleasant to listen to, as it was not horribly noticeable, but to those who had been around it all their life, knew that the pianist's days the Opera Populaire were numbered.

Reyer came out from the orchestra pit, having been engaged with something else, and waved at the pianist, "Thank you, Monsieur Maigny, that'll be all."

Maigny stood from the piano and collected his things, giving an angry shake of his head as he scurried quickly out of the building like a pup with its tail between its legs. Giry let out a long breath, and glanced about at the girls. "You may rest and go change back into your normal clothes. Names of those I will be asking back for a part in the National Academy will be posted on the Opera house door tomorrow at eight in the morning. If you make the list, you must come to your first rehearsal tomorrow afternoon at three so we may discuss your living arrangements. Thank you ladies for coming… Madame Whitehall?"

Constance looked flustered, glancing up quickly, a pencil clenched between her teeth and a fountain pen in her right hand. She fumbled with the pencil and finally was able to speak, "Yes, Madame Giry?"

"Is there anything else you would like to add to my instructions?" the ballet mistress questioned, her defined, painted eyebrows raising in question. Giry thoroughly disliked those who did not pay attention.

"Yes I do," Constance replied, moving her papers to the chair beside her. She walked to the edge of the orchestra pit and looked at the girls. "When you come to look at list, and later for your meeting with Madame Giry, please remember we are holding rehearsals for singers all day and will need quiet to make adequate decisions."

He was amazed that Constance had been able to pay attention to everything that was going on, evidently having heard every word Giry had said, as she picked up the conversation in a relevant area, even while so into the paperwork she had brought out with her. He had expected her to fall flat in her face. Giry looked just as surprised as he felt and he knew then that Giry had not warmed up to the woman manager completely, although whether Constance knew it or not, she was proving herself through moments like these.

Giry turned to her class and continued to speak with them, shooing them away. As she turned back around, letting a long, exasperated breath from her mouth, she gazed up toward Box Five. It was a ordinary thing for her to do, he knew, and it had become a habit after a bit. He did not know why he thought he would remain unseen up there. Giry froze, their eyes meeting, and he felt the obvious disappointment just from that one glance. So she was disappointed with him… perhaps not completely angry with him. She smiled slightly and shook her head, turning back to Meg who was talking about one of the girls.

Getting the intense feeling he should leave then, he stood from his seat, and made his way for the hidden paneling behind the curtain, but as he placed his gloved hand on the wood, he heard the large doors to the auditorium open on their rusty hinges. A great beam of golden-yellow light from the windowed foyers outside cast into the dark space of the theatre like some deity had just come down from his perch in the lofty clouds to grace them with His or Her presence. And from that doorway of gold, shimmering light, stepped out an angel with a bright halo crowning her head.

His heart stopped dead, he was sure for at least a solid minute (if not more), and he struggled to breathe. She had definitely returned… and this time with an addition of a small child bundled in her arms. He had tried to prepare himself for any manner of her return, but it had done nothing now in this time of seeing her. All those emotions, all the pain he had felt for losing her flooded back into his conscious memory. She looked happy… so impossibly happy… while he still lived with the regret of years passed. She looked different- even more beautiful if that was at all possible with her long, white neck bare as her hair was piled on top of her head with ringlets of brown crowning her face. A fancy dress adorned her frame of fuller breasts and wider hips…

And he remained the same, misshapen man.

She lived in happiness as he lived in grief. But he had allowed that to happen when he told her to go with the Vicomte.

"Christine!" he heard the manager shout from her spot. He turned and watched her walk quickly to meet Christine halfway down the aisle. Constance stopped and Christine made no shy attempt to bow her head, but put a free arm about the manager, and kissed both of her cheeks in greeting. The manager smiled brightly, "I cannot believe you have come, Christine."

"Neither have I," Christine said in disbelief. "I cannot believe Raoul allowed me to come back."

"I do not blame him for his worry… and you just had a child… and fitting into the life of Vicomtess takes practice. Singing will only add more stress to your life," Constance said.

Christine sighed peacefully, "Believe it or not, singing and acting is not horribly stressful to me. I love to do it, even here in this place that holds so many memories. Trying to please Raoul's society friends here in Paris, on the other hand, is a horrid chore that I would gladly distance myself from."

Constance chuckled and nodded, glanced down at the baby in Christine's arms. "And how is Mademoiselle Marguerite doing this fine day?"

"She fussed all night last night," Christine said quietly, quickly offering the child over to Constance. It was apparent that the novelty of the child had worn off.

"It takes some time to get used to Paris," Constance replied and took the babe into her arms, holding it closely to her bosom. "Doesn't it, dear Marguerite?"

Erik heard males conversing together from the lobby, and turned his attention back toward the door. All light had seemingly been sucked from the room then as the Chagny men entered, accompanied by Constance's brother Olivier. Raoul was certainly no saint or god in his mind. Olivier motioned about the room, pointing to some of the things that had been changed as the two women cooed over the small child, but the Comte's eyes were not following the directions, and only looking directly at Constance. He was like a man on a mission… or a lion stalking his prey.

Raoul and Olivier both glanced toward his box, and he moved back into the shadows a bit more to ensure he would not be seen. They turned their attention elsewhere, having not seen him, and slowly walked toward the women. Constance glanced up and smiled at the approaching men. Erik wondered where Olivier's wife was… as it seemed everyone else had come. They were an interesting pair… the Duc and his wife. They seemed to genuinely love each other, but also had a certain superficial air about them. When they had first come to look through the Opera, the wife had spent the entire time telling him that purchasing this was not a good idea- that she could not take part in it because of the history of the Phantom. But after some cajoling on Olivier's part, though, and a promise of large piece of jewelry, the wife had resentfully agreed.

Perhaps the wife still believed it was wrong and did not come for that reason… or she could have just been taking tea with someone.

But it did not matter to him at moment. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, he decided he had enough of this scene, and escaped through the wood paneling. Tomorrow he would try to find Constance alone.