Chapter Four
"Erik"
"You have the voice of an Angel."
Claire froze at the sound of the voice; it was oh so familiar—too familiar."Who are you?" Asked Claire trying to conceal her excitement. She had always been the kind to believe in what one cannot see so this unseen man—for it was a man's voice—did not cause her fright as it might others.
"I am the Phantom who's Opera House you are in." replied the voice, which seemed to come from all directions.
"Are you not the one who sings songs in my head at night?" Since she was speaking to a supposed Phantom (she had always been the type to believe in ghosts and Phantoms as well, despite father's efforts to the contrary) Claire did not fear that her question would lead him to believe her mad. But no reply came. "Monsieur Phantom, is it not you? If it is not then I am terribly sorry for bothering you and I will leave your Opera House."
"Do not go just yet." Said the voice softly yet commanding.
"Will you not answer my question? For if you do not then I shall go, Monsieur Phantom." Said Claire with a curtsy and a faint smile.
"Yes, it is I." Came the Phantom's voice but only from behind her now.
Claire spun 'round and there in the shadows stood a cloaked figure. "Then…you cannot be a Phantom but an Angel…for ghosts and Phantoms cannot be so…angelic as you." Claire had been stricken almost breathless by the mere presence of this Phantom or Angel. Somehow she not only feared him but trusted him too.
"I am nothing of the sort." Came the ghostly reply.
"Then what are you?" Asked Claire and though her mind cried for her to stay put she began walking towards the cloaked man. "And what do you want of me? Why do you invade my mind?" Somehow being around this Phantom Angel made Claire bolder and able to speak her mind. It scared her.
"Do not be afraid." Said the Phantom Angel. "I want to teach you music."
Claire's heart leapt. "Can I at least see my tutor?"
The Phantom Angel stepped slowly into the light. He was tall, wore a black cloak, and a pale white mask concealed one side of his face. His completely black hair—but for one white streak—was slicked back away from his half-covered face. The side of his face that was visible was very handsome yet careworn.
Claire took a step back her fear taking over. "I need to be getting home." She whispered.
"Vicomte de Chagny can wait."
"How do you know father's name?" Gasped Claire taking another step back.
"That is of no matter." Said the Phantom Angel firmly, so firmly in fact that Claire was forced to drop the subject.
A short silence fell. "Teach me, please!" Claire just stopped short of throwing herself at the Phantom Angel. "I want to sing! I want to be on the stage!"
"You will…in time. Our first lesson is tomorrow at noon." And with that he was gone.
Claire stood still; she could not believe what had just happened. She must be insane! Trusting some man she had never met before! —But to sing! To be on stage! She would do anything to perform an Opera just one. But could she trust this Phantom Angel? And yet his voice! Worthy of the Heavens! He must have been sent from on high, an Angel of Music sent from the skies!
Claire slipped into the house trying to go unnoticed but—
"Where were you for the past two hours?" Father came wheeling in from the other room—well, actually, the nurse wheeled him in.
"Walking." Answered Claire her strength failing her for what was she to say? 'I went to the Old Opera House of Paris even though you've forbidden me to, father. Where I met a Phantom Angel who is going to teach me how to sing and I've been hearing him in my head for the past week'? Oh, yes, that would go over so well.
"Lies I tell you!" exclaimed the nurse. "Where were you really, child?"
"As I said, walking." Said Claire wishing she could vanish like the Phantom Angel.
"You'd be bitten through with cold if you had, you liar!" Sneered the nurse.
Father raised his hand slightly to silence her. "In any case, there is someone here to see you, Claire."
"He's in the drawing-room." Huffed the nurse. "Well, go on then you've kept him waiting nearly an hour already!"
Claire walked to the drawing room the nursing wheeling her father behind her. She opened the drawing room doors and walked in. Sitting in one of the armchairs was a young gentleman of about twenty. His hair was wavy and a light brown and he wore a dress suit that was somewhat out of date. As soon as he saw Claire he stood and bowed.
"This is Monsieur Comte de Gaston Gabriel." Said father. "Monsieur, met my daughter Vicomtess Claire de Chagny."
Claire curtsied as the Comte de Gabriel bowed. "A pleasure, Monsieur Comte de Gabriel."
"No, the pleasure is all mine." Said the Comte.
"Claire," Said father. "As of today the Comte is your fiancé."
"What!" Cried Claire dropping all manners and politeness. "I refuse!"
"Claire!" said father trying to sound strong in spite of his age.
Claire opened her mouth to reply but could not and instead ran from the room. She grabbed her cape and ran out of the house for the second time that day. She did not know where she was going but she ran nonetheless. She found herself once again in front of the Old Opera House. She dashed in. "Angel!" She called needing someone with her. "Phantom!" And then she heard it; an organ. It began with such a note, such a force, like a scream of agony. Claire followed the sound her feet not carrying her fast enough. The organ's notes seemed to be crying, moaning, a melody of pure longing. She pushed through two large doors and found herself in the audience in front of the grand stage. And on that stage was a massive organ that had not been there before and sitting at it, his back turned, was a cloaked figure that Claire knew to be the Angelic Phantom. The passion in his music was building moving Claire towards him. And then, without knowing what she was doing, she began to sing:
"When I'm alone
I dream of the sky
And words fail"
She was walking towards the stage, entranced with the music as she sang.
"There is no light hereWhere the sun is absent
Trust the darkness"
She was now on the stage next to the Phantom Angel who was playing his soul out on the organ. And then he joined her in song, their voices becoming one climbing higher and higher.
"Show no one my heart
Which you set in prison
Enclosing within me
No, no exit no longer"
The organ hit its climatic note and all fell into silence until,
"Back so soon?" Asked the Phantom Angel.
Claire could not answer she was breathless from singing, singing in ways she hadn't thought possible. When she was around this Angelic Master of Music she found that her voice was limitless and felt as though something was pushing her to reach farther. After moments of silence Claire blurted out, "My father is trying to make me marry some Comte I've just met. And I've refused."
The Dark Angel turned to her on his seat in front of the organ. "We might as well begin our lesson now then."
Claire nodded, she did not want to return home but she did want to sing.
Claire did not know what made her trust this Dark Angel but she did even through the fear that never left her around him. She was drawn to him in a way that she had never felt before.
The lesson began with the Phantom Angel teaching Claire to read music. She sat beside him at the organ reciting notes and where they were on the keyboard and her voice. They never once talked about anything other then music, nothing at all. It must have been a half-hour later when Claire was learning to do scales with her voice. The Phantom Angel kept urging her to go higher and higher until finally she reached a note that she had to screech to hit. She was about to give up when the Angelic Phantom placed his fingertips on small places of her throat. His touch was gentle (even so it made her blush) as were his words telling her to try again. Claire opened her mouth and the note rang out crystal clear.
"Try to remember how that felt." Said the Phantom Angel taking his hands away.
"I will, Angel." Said Claire.
"Don't call me that." Said the Phantom looking away.
"Then you must give me some other name to call you by."
"Erik, my name is Erik."
Silence fell once more. "Erik, why are you teaching me?" Asked Claire timidly.
Erik did not reply but began to play softly on the organ.
She did not know how long she had been with Erik. She felt free around him and yet imprisoned, held there for some unknown reason. Time seemed to have stopped for her and yet all too soon Erik ordered her to return home. Claire tried to argue but Erik would not hear of it. So she found herself walking home again in the snow but she could still hear Erik all around her, singing to her in her mind, he never once seemed to truly leave her side. Claire now found herself in front of the great door that lead into the house in which she lived, she pushed it open and entered (why father had no butler was beyond her but it helped her slip in and out unnoticed at times). A maid took her cape and instead of heading to the drawing room as she usually did she went up the stairwell to her room. She shut the door behind her and took a seat at her Vanity opposite her bed. She gazed at her reflection in her mirror. She still did not know what she was thinking trusting this Erik and yet she did trust him. She could not understand it. She yawned, she was suddenly overcome by exhaustion.
"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle, wake up!"
Claire found herself, her head in her arms on the Vanity, being violently shaken awake by one of the maids. She blinked and raised her head. "What is it?"
The maid stopped shaking her and made a curt curtsy. "Your father wishes to see you."
"I'll be down in a moment." Replied Claire waving the maid out. She had a fairly clear idea as to what her father wanted with her and she would have none of it. She had refused to marry that fop and that was that; marriage without love was out of the question. She stood, brushing her dark curls from her face as she did so, and walked out her door and down the stairwell and into the drawing room.
Father was sitting in his wheelchair next to the great fire as always and his nurse stood behind him looking smug.
"What is it you want, father?" Asked Claire with a deep curtsy.
"Claire…you look so like your mother." Said father turning slightly to her. "She was a spirited woman as well. But Claire you must think about what's best for your future. The Comte de Gabriel is a good man."
"I will not marry him." Said Claire firmly.
"Why do you defy your own father?"
"Because I refuse to marry without love."
"These youngsters and their idiotic idealism!" Scuffed the nurse.
Claire had to bit her tongue to keep from screaming at the nurse. After a goodly long silence father said,
"Do think it over carefully, Claire."
Claire made a small curtsy and left the room. She slammed the drawing room door closed behind her and ran to her room having to hold up her vast skirts around her kneels in order not to trip. She slammed her own door shut and collapsed onto her bed. "Think it over?" Whispered Claire. "There is not a thing to think over!" She wanted to scream but instead she took a deep breath and called for her maid. She stood as the skinny maid walked in. "Help me with my dress."
"Yes, ma'am." Said the maid curtsying.
Claire felt the maid tugging and untying the cress-crossed strings that held the dress together tightly in the back. She sighed a bit as the dress finally fell off leaving her in her corset and white stockings. "And my corset." Claire felt the same tugging and pulling at her back as before. She heaved a great sigh of relief as the corset came off and she could breath freely. This left her in only her stockings and chemise. "Leave." Said Claire waving out the maid. She fell back on the bed again as she heard the door close after the maid had put away her clothes. She slid off her stockings revealing her pale legs, she then noticed she was still wearing her shoes so she slid them off as well. She raised her hands and pulled the golden clips from her hair that held bits of its dark curls off her face. She felt the tingle on her head that went with letting one's hair down after a long day; she ran her fingers through her hair pulling out the tangles. A few long moments passed then Claire heaved another sigh, gathered up the gold hair clips and took them to her dressing table placing them in a little wooden box. She gazed out the glass doors (which stood next to the Vanity) that lead to her balcony. Night had fallen, a clear night with moon and stars shinning brightly. She moved to the duel French doors placing her hand on the cold glass. What a beautiful night this is. Claire walked back to her bed, picked up her shoes and placed them in her wardrobe. She took out a white nightgown from her wardrobe and pulled it on over her chemise. Then she finally turned out the lights climbed into bed, her heavy eyelids sagging. She was unaware of the shadowy figure that stood outside the glass doors.