The Phantom of the Opera
Part Eight
Three days later Christine insisted on getting out of bed.
"Madame Giry, if I lie here any longer I shall go mad!" she told the ballet mistress crossly.
Madame Giry recognized the fire in the girl's eyes, a trait she had clearly picked up from Erik. "Very well. But you should wash first."
She helped the girl out of bed and then paused, looking at her. Christine stared back. "What is the matter, Madame?
"I… are you well, Christine?" Marie asked carefully. Christine realized what she was saying and looked away.
"I am well, Madame. But… I am with child."
"Erik's?"
"No one else's," Christine replied shortly. Madame Giry looked rather torn between pleasure and worry. Christine smiled weakly. "I know… no husband, no money, no home… not ideal conditions in which to raise a child."
"How long have you been pregnant?"
"It cannot be longer than a week. I am surprised it was not lost in the accident. But it is alive, and so am I. This child will give me a reason to keep going, Madame. It is something of Erik that I can keep, and proof of our happiness."
She looked happier than Marie had seen her since she had woken. Brightness came from her face, mixed with a ferocious protectiveness of her unborn child. Marie smiled. "I am glad for you, child. I think it would be best if we kept this quiet, at least for the time being."
"I understand. What opera is being performed at the moment?"
"A piece called Il Muto."
"Oh, I believe I have heard of it," Christine said while she washed her face with one hand. Madame Giry patted her dry with a towel and then took her right arm, helping her to walk.
Christine's legs felt weak but with Marie's help she was able to walk to the theatre. There were rehearsals going on but their arrival caused an uproar that sent the practice into disarray. Meg and several other ballet girls rushed over to greet her, all talking excitedly. Christine smiled at their excitement, and Meg and Marie helped her to a seat in the front row.
Annette said, "You look so grown up, Christine! I almost couldn't recognize you."
"I think I have changed a lot in these past months," Christine replied. Monsieur Reyer greeted her happily, enquiring after her health, as did many other members of the cast. Carlotta didn't go to greet her but offered a miniature smile from across the stage, which Christine returned. She knew that they would never be friends, but a truce would do for now.
The rehearsal began again and Christine listened happily enough, wincing occasionally at Carlotta's shrill tone.
"Miss Daae?" She looked around and saw a man she didn't know, wearing a policeman's uniform. She got to her feet and he gestured for her to sit again, taking the seat beside her. "I am the Chief of the Paris Police force. I wished to ask you a few questions about the night…"
"Oh… I see…" Christine said, feeling nervous.
He took out a small pad of paper and a pen. "Could you tell me what happened that day?"
"I was here, visiting Madame Giry and Meg. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André informed that the Viscount de Martinez had gone to my home to find Erik and myself so I rode home again."
"And when you arrived there?"
"…The house was on fire and the Viscount was outside with his men. I rode down and went through the kitchen door."
"You went into the house?"
"Yes, to find Erik."
He paused and said, "What was your relationship with Monsieur Erik?"
"He was my fiancé. We planned to be married as soon as we finished repairing the house," Christine said quietly.
The Chief noted something down and said, "You entered the house and then…?"
"The Viscount broke a window and climbed through, into the house. I ran upstairs and found Erik there. We went up onto the roof…"
The intensity of the flames burned her skin… Erik pulled her along, almost hurting her in his haste…
"We were going to climb down onto the stable roof. Erik used a rope, tying it to the balcony. But the Viscount came onto the balcony and attacked us with a sword. He and Erik fought."
Erik hit his head…
"Erik fell and hit his head. The Viscount was going to kill him but… but I threw myself at him, trying to get the sword away from him…"
He held her tightly, hissing in her ear…
"The Viscount had a hold on me and then turned to kill Erik. But he was gone… I managed to get away from the Viscount and Erik put a rope around his neck to stop him attacking me…"
They were at the edge of the balcony, fighting fiercely…
"They fell over the edge… they fell… I ran to look at they were holding onto the ledge. I went to get the rope…"
Erik grabbed at the rope, the light of the fire reflecting from the surface of his mask, beads of sweat rolling down his face…
"I pulled Erik up and we threw the rope back down for the Viscount. But the… the rooms behind us fell down and the rope snapped…"
"There's still time to escape!" Erik shouted, pulling her to the edge…
"We went to the edge, above the stables… I went first, onto the ledge… I looked up at him and he told me to jump down… I told him that…"
"I love you!" she shouted to him…
"… That I loved him… and I jumped down. I hurt my arm when I landed and I looked up. He was about to jump… and then…"
A tear trickled down her cheek but she didn't move to brush it away. She stared into space, speaking quietly. She licked her lips and said, "I don't remember anymore. I'm sorry."
Christine looked at the Chief. He was watching her with a pitying expression. She looked away and found that everyone had stopped to listen. She shook herself slightly and said, "Is there… is there anything else you need?"
"You and Monsieur Erik were attempting to save the Viscount when he fell?"
"Yes. The rope broke when the rooms collapsed."
"May I ask why he had been searching for you? I am aware that he had been looking for some time, and put a lot of money into his searches," The Chief asked.
Christine forced herself to breathe calmly before replying. "He… he wanted me. Several times while I was here at the Opera House he tried to make me sleep with him but I refused. He ended up threatening to close the Opera House unless I did so."
"Where you already in a relationship with Monsieur Erik?"
"No. He was my teacher, but nothing more. He helped me, when the Viscount beat me for refusing him. He helped me to escape the Viscount, when we were in the cemetery and we went to the house then. We got engaged and were to be married as soon as the house was repaired," she said, matter-of-factly.
The chief noted this down and said, "Monsieur Erik was… the Phantom?"
"Yes."
"We had several reports of him over the years. Threatening notes, injuries to occupants…"
Christine felt rage swell inside her and snapped, "Well, now he is dead and you have no reason to bring it all up again. Is there anything else you want from me or can I go back to mourning the man I loved? Or would you rather condemn him in death as you did in life?"
"My apologies, Miss Daae," he said, looking embarrassed. That pleased Christine and she looked away. He got to his feet and nodded. "I have all that I need. I will not bother you again."
"…Thank you," she replied softly. He walked away and she took a deep breath.
Looking up, Christine saw everyone quickly turn away, not wanting to be caught staring. She fiddled absently with the ring on her left hand and winced as her arm twinged. Madame Giry approached her cautiously. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I… well no. Not really. I've been trying to not think about what happened."
"Do you feel better for remembering?" Marie asked.
"Not at this moment. But I feel that I will soon," Christine replied. She rubbed her head. "I think… I think I would like to go back to my room now."
"Of course. Meg, take Christine to her room, please."
As Meg took Christine, Madame Giry hurried after the Chief of Police. She caught up with him in the lobby. "Monsieur!"
"Madame Giry…" he said, nodding politely.
"I was wondering if you had any news about a body."
He looked awkward. "Well, Madame, that's why I came here. I was hoping to talk to Miss Daae but I can see she's not exactly… ready to talk about it yet."
"Talk about what?" Marie asked carefully.
The Chief rubbed the back of his head. "The thing about the body is… there wasn't one. The rubble has all been cleared but we found no body. But you and I both know that no one could have survived something like that. There was nothing. No clothes, no blood, no body… no mask. Nobody knows what to make of it. Unless someone had already taken the body, but why would they?"
A clock struck the hour and the Chief said, "I must go. If I have any more information I'll be sure to contact you."
"Thank you… thank you…" Marie said, frozen in shock. The Chief left and Marie sank into a nearby chair.
"My god… Erik, where are you?" she whispered to herself. For some time Madame Giry sat in shock and then a small smile crossed her face. "The Phantom of the Opera has escaped once more, it would appear," she said quietly, before getting to her feet and returning to the rehearsal.
Christine spent the next week moving between her room, the theatre to watch rehearsals, and the practice room. The last thing she was about to do was stop her singing. She knew Erik would have hated for her to do that.
"Besides, between you and the music, we can keep him alive, can't we, Little One?" she murmured to her child.
So she practiced every day and even began to write new songs, using the skills that Erik had taught her over the years.
Most of the people in the Opera House were now aware of her pregnancy. It was hard to keep anything secret in a place like that. Christine soon found several of the cleaning women offering her baby clothes that their own children had grown out of, which she accepted gratefully.
Above all things, she wished to go down to visit Erik's home but Madame Giry refused point blank. "It would be too distressing for you, not to mention the journey is far too harrowing for someone in your condition."
That was something she had noticed about being pregnant. Suddenly you were far too delicate to undertake the most menial of tasks. Christine had quickly grown tired of people offering to help her to a room, or take a bag for her and had ended up snapping at one of the stage hands who rushed to help her sit down. She had apologized afterwards, of course, but had found it rather satisfying.
It was a bright Saturday morning and nearly everyone was in rehearsal. Christine had finished practicing and had decided to get a breath of fresh air. She met André in the lobby and he smiled jovially.
"Good morning, Miss Daae."
"Good morning Monsieur André. I don't suppose that is today's newspaper?" She gestured to the paper tucked under his arm.
"It is. Here. I was going to read it but Carlotta is requesting my presence immediately as something has undoubtedly not met her standards, yet again," he said, sounding rather tired. He passed her the newspaper and she smiled and thanked him.
Christine sat on a seat in the square, reading the articles with little interest. She was about to return to the Opera House when a small article, barely a paragraph long, caught her eye.
…The house on the outskirts of the village was burned down almost two weeks ago. The death of the Viscount de Martinez was a tragedy for all involved, but no other bodies were discovered. Miss Christine Daae, a survivor of the fire, is currently recovering in Paris. The house has been purchased by an unknown aristocrat from Paris and…
Her breath seemed to freeze in her throat as she reread the line. No other bodies were discovered.
Could that mean…? Was it even possible?
Christine jumped to her feet and ran across the square, causing a horse to whinny, startled. She ran up the steps to the Opera House and threw herself through the door.
Rehearsals had ground to a halt as Carlotta threw yet another fit about something or the other. Everyone jumped as the door was flung open with a loud bang, and Christine ran full pelt down the centre aisle, waving a newspaper. Madame Giry caught her.
"Christine, what is the matter?"
"Madame, look! Look!" Marie read the short article and she looked up at Christine.
"Christine, it does not necessarily mean that-"
"No other bodies! None were found!"
Christine stopped and stared at her friend's face in disbelief. "You… you already knew? You knew that they never found him?"
"The Chief of police told me last week."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Christine-"
"Why! How could you not tell me that there is even the slightest possibility that Erik is alive?" Christine shouted.
Everyone started to talk excitedly and Madame Giry said quietly, "I did not tell you in case it turned out not to be true."
"How could you? Erik may be alive and you knew this whole time?" Christine whispered.
Marie took a deep breath. "I was only trying to protect you, my child. I admit that both Meg and I suspected that he may have escaped but we did not tell you in case we discovered that he was dead. The shock of that could injure you and your child."
Christine turned to Meg. "You knew as well?" Meg reached into her pocket and held out something. Christine took the locket in amazement and held it to her chest. "My god… how did you get this!"
"It arrived in the post for me. I was going to give it to you when we found out what had happened to Erik."
Christine sank into a seat and buried her face in her hands. No one spoke and Marie touched her shaking shoulders.
"Christine, we still don't know whether or not Erik lives. And if he does, we have no idea of where he is."
"I don't understand… if he is dead, they would have mentioned it in the newspapers. But if he lives… why hasn't he come to me, or written me a note, or anything?" Christine mumbled.
Marie hesitated. "I don't know, Christine. We have been wondering this ourselves. If he thinks that he is being held responsible for the Viscount's death than it is possible he is staying away to protect you."
Christine got to her feet and began to pace, running her hands through her hair, thinking furiously. "Where would he go? I'm sure he would stay in France… but where? He would not stay at an inn or a hotel, it would be too public. He would want privacy."
"Christine, maybe you should wait for him to contact you," Meg suggested, but Christine frowned and shook her head.
"No. You don't understand. I have to find him. He is everything to me…" her eyes glazed over and she turned to André and Firmin.
"Monsieurs, when you purchase land, there are records made, aren't there? Where are they kept?"
"Well, they're kept in official buildings. But do you think that Monsieur Erik would have given his name if he had bought land?" André replied.
Christine shrugged. "I don't know. Where are the official buildings?"
"Here, in Paris. I'll take you to them."
"I'm coming, too," Madame Giry said.
Christine stared around the archives of records and felt her heart sink. How could she possibly find anything here?
"Everything is kept by date and name," the clerk told them.
Firmin and André looked at Christine. "Well, it would have been sometime in the past two weeks, I suppose," Firmin said. The clerk looked at him over the top of his spectacles.
"Is there a name? It would narrow our search down considerably."
"Erik. The Christian name of Erik," Madame Giry said, but the clerk shook his head.
"I'm afraid everything is kept by surname. If you have no surname we have a long search ahead of us."
"Le Phantome. The surname is Le Phantome," Christine said quietly. Firmin and André exchanged half exasperated, half amused glances and Madame Giry smiled slightly.
The clerk went to one of the drawers and began to search through. It took him some time. Christine paced the room impatiently. Firmin and André sat in silence and Madame Giry stood quietly by the door. "We have only two records by the name of Le Phantome in the last week. But only one with the Christian name of Erik," the clerk said eventually, placing two files on the desk. Christine looked up quickly and the clerk read the information.
"A house belonging to Erik le Phantome was burned to the ground about two weeks ago. But it's quite odd – the name of Le Phantome was only registered after the house was bought."
"Is that all there is on Erik le Phantome?" Firmin asked. The clerk nodded.
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"What about the other Le Phantome?" Madame Giry asked. The clerk checked the file.
"Joseph Le Phantome. Lives in Calais and owns three farmlands."
"That's not him," André said. The clerk shrugged.
"I'm afraid that's all we have."
The three older people turned to leave but Christine spoke quietly.
"What about Daae? Is there anything under the name Daae?" The clerk returned to the drawer and began to search.
Firmin said gently, "Miss Daae, I don't think that we're going to find anything."
As he said this another clerk came out of the office and looked at them in surprise. "Good morning."
"Good morning."
"What are you looking for?" he said, smiling helpfully.
"Daae. But I don't see anything," the first clerk said.
The second clerk tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Daae… Daae… that sounds familiar for some reason. Try under Chimen. Jonathon Chimen."
The four hopefuls stood nearby, waiting impatiently. The first clerk took out a file and flicked through. A smile crossed his face and he waved an address at them. "An Erik Daae rented a small house outside of Paris two weeks ago. Is this who you're looking for?"
Christine took the piece of paper and her face broke into a smile. She turned and hugged each of them in turn. "It's him! It must be him! He's alive!" she laughed delightedly and turned to the astonished clerk. "Thank you! Thank you so very much!"
"You're welcome," he replied, clearly startled as Christine practically ran out of the office, with the three companions just behind her.
"I have to go to him. I can be there by nightfall if I leave now," Christine said as the carriage journeyed back to the Opera House.
"Don't you think it would be better to maybe write first? Just so he is aware that it is safe," Firmin suggested. Christine shook her head.
"I have to see him. I have to."
She ran a hand absently over her stomach and looked out of the window at the passing town. She chewed her lip slightly and turned to look at Madame Giry. "I truly believe that it is him. If… if it is not…" she frowned as if she did not even want to consider this possibility, "I will stop searching. I will wait. But I must go to this Erik Daae and make sure before I do that. Is that acceptable?"
"Very well. We shall go there now," Madame Giry said, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
André and Firmin climbed out at the Opera House and wished Christine luck before the carriage set off again, heading for a small village outside of Paris.
Marie watched Christine, who sat opposite her in the jolting carriage. The girl was flushed and glowing with excitement and anticipation. Marie couldn't help smiling at the determined look on her face.
"Madame?"
"Yes, Christine?"
"What is it like to have a child? Not to give birth to one, but to be a mother? I never really thought about it before…" Christine asked, a hand on her belly. Marie smiled.
"It's wonderful, Christine. It truly is."
"I just… it's hard to believe that there is a person, a real person inside of me, part of me. Is it like having another part of yourself?"
"A little like that. But I suppose it's more like having a part of whomever it was that fathered the child. I know that I love Meg with all of my being, and when I hold her it is like I am with her father again."
"So… when I have my child, I will have Erik again?" Christine asked. Marie smiled.
"In a way."
Christine looked out of the window again, a small smile on her mouth.
Marie said, "When your child kicks for the first time, you will know what it is like. That is when you'll truly know what it is like to have a child in you. For now he or she is sleeping but when they wake and kick out, you will be able to feel it."
"I'm afraid," Christine murmured.
Marie frowned. "Of what, child?"
"I don't know… what if this man isn't Erik? What if I never find him? How can I raise a child alone?"
"I did."
"You are stronger than I am! You always have been, Madame. I have always had Erik nearby, to care for me. Even when I was a child and believed that he was my Angel of Music, he was always there when I needed him. How can I… how can I have a child without him?" Christine whispered, her voice choking slightly.
Marie took her hands and looked her in the eye. "You will never be alone, Christine. You will always have Meg and me. And you will always have the memories of Erik. I know that you will be a wonderful mother."
Christine smiled, rubbing at her shining eyes. "Thank you, Madame Giry."
"You are welcome. Now, tell me what you plan to do if this man is Erik."
"If it is him… I will have to talk to him. If he wishes to stay at this cottage, then I shall stay with him. Wherever he goes, I go too. I will tell him that he is not wanted by the police. I would prefer for us to go to Paris, but it is his choice…"
"And what will you tell him about the child?"
Christine shook her head. "I don't know. I don't even know if he ever wanted to have children. I will have to tell him of course."
"I see. You look tired, Christine. Why don't you sleep for a while?" Marie said. Christine obediently closed her eyes and the rocking of the carriage quickly lulled her into a light slumber.
She woke several hours later to find them traveling through a small town. She sat up quickly and looked out of the window. Marie touched her arm. "Be calm. We're nearly there."
Christine felt her heart start to race as she looked out of the window, chewing her lips viciously. Marie noticed but didn't comment. Christine's hand went to the ring on her left hand. Her arm was aching but she ignored it.
The carriage went up a short path and the driver called down. "This is the place." Christine threw open the door and climbed out quickly, gazing at the house in front of her.
Marie took her arm and said, "Would you like me to come?"
"No… no, I'll go alone," Christine replied, moving up the path to the front door. The house was dark, but it was only early evening. She hesitated outside the door and then knocked on it hard.
There was no reply. Christine frowned and knocked again, but no one answered the door. She went to the window and looked in, but there was no sign of anyone.
"You're looking for Monsieur Daae?" She turned and saw an elderly man driving a small cart down the road. She nodded.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Left this morning. Someone came running into the inn saying as how he had told the owner he didn't want to rent the place after all."
Christine's heart plummeted into her stomach and she leaned against the door, covering her face with her hand. "Do you know where he went?"
"'Fraid not. Someone at the inn might know."
"We shall go there anyway. For now, we need to rest. We will return to Paris in the morning," Madame Giry said. Christine looked up at the house and then back to the old man.
"What was Monsieur Daae like? Did you ever see him?"
"Saw him from a distance. Dressed all in black and wore a hood over his head."
He had been here. He really had been here. That was some small comfort to her and she thanked the man before returning to the carriage. Madame Giry said, "A night in the inn and we'll leave for Paris first thing in the morning. And at least now we know that he is alive."
"Yes. He lives," Christine said, with a weak smile. Madame Giry frowned.
"What troubles you?"
"…He doesn't want to be with me. He must have known that I would come to find him and left before we could arrive."
"Christine, that's not true."
"How do you know that it is not the truth? What other explanation is there? Erik has gone again and he is obviously not in love with me as he claimed," Christine said harshly. Her sorrow was quickly becoming replaced with anger. Madame Giry frowned.
"It has been a long day. Let us have something to eat and some sleep, and you will feel better in the morning."
"I'm not going to look for him, Madame. He does not want to be found. So I shall not look. I shall go back to the Opera Populaire and remain there." Christine said quietly. She turned to look out of the window and Marie Giry felt her heart go out to the girl. And in her mind she silently cursed Erik for causing Christine such pain and doubt.
At the inn, Madame Giry left Christine at a table in the corner and went to speak with the bartender.
"Excuse me, monsieur, is there food available?"
"There is. Meat pie and potatoes."
"Three portions. For myself, that girl, and the man at the end of the bar." She pointed to the driver and handed some money to the bartender. As he started to clean some mugs, she asked, "I don't suppose you have any information on Monsieur Daae? The man who was staying in the house outside of the village? I believe he left this morning."
Several people started to talk quickly but Madame Giry waited for the bartender's reply. "Don't know much about him, I'm afraid. Arrived a few weeks ago and was rarely seen. Came in here once but left after one drink. Very quiet man."
"Did he wear a hood?"
"Indeed he did. And a white mask, underneath. Only on one side of his face though."
Marie felt her spirits lift and asked quickly, "Do you know where he has gone? It is urgent that I find him."
"Not sure. Someone else might know."
He looked around at the eager faces and one man, red in the face from drink slurred, "'Eard 'e was 'eading for Paris."
"Paris?"
"Yeah, someone said 'e took a 'orse and rode towards the city," another man said.
"Do you know anything else?"
They turned and saw Christine on her feet, her eyes wide. One man leered at her but Madame Giry snapped at him and he turned away.
"Please, does anyone know anything else about him?" she asked, looking around the bar.
A girl who was clearing dirty cups said nervously, "I heard a rumor that he lost his wife in a fire. Did you hear about the fire, a few weeks ago? The house was burned to the ground and a nobleman died. A girl in the village said that he owned the house and his wife was killed in the fire."
"I heard something like that too. He mentioned it on the night he came here for a drink, I think. I asked him what he was doing somewhere like here, somewhere so far out of the way. He said he was mourning for his fiancé," said another man.
Christine clutched the edge of the bar, her head spinning. Madame Giry reached for her but she waved her away. She turned to look around and said, "Do you know if he read the newspaper this morning?"
"I haven't the faintest idea," the bartender said, pouring a drink.
"I think he does. He had it delivered to the house," someone said.
Christine asked, "Do you have a copy of today's paper? The local one."
Someone passed it along and she read hastily, skimming over each article until she found one very similar to the article she had seen in the newspaper from Paris.
"Madame, look!" she cried, pointing. It was very much the same – the Viscount's death, no other bodies found, Christine Daae recovering in Paris…
She felt tears well up and turned to the older woman. "He thought I was dead! Madame, he thought I was dead! That's why he didn't come for me. He must have seen this and returned to Paris to find me!"
"You're his dead wife?" the bartender said in surprise.
"Fiancée… Madame, I have to get to Paris! I can't stay the night, I must return now!"
"Very well, I shall order a carriage-"
"No… no, it would take too long. Is there somewhere that I could borrow a horse?" she asked the bartender.
A man said, "I own the local stables. I'll rent a horse to you."
"Thank you! Thank you all so much! May God bless you all!" Christine cried, running to retrieve her cloak.
Madame Giry caught her arm. "Christine, you cannot ride to Paris in your condition!"
"Madame, I will be fine. I can and will ride with or without a broken arm and child," Christine replied, following the stableman. She turned to thank the bartender and locals again before going through the door.
Madame Giry turned to the bartender. "I suppose I should make that two meals, then."