Jazzetry's Author Note: This is my baby, one of the few chapters I started. It was a grueling process, especially when we decided to cut the ten page chapter into two shorter versions. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. And a quick source clarification: Cocteau's film Beauty and the Beast was based after the original Madame Beaumont story, so hopefully we're not completely Disneyfied.

Christine and the Phantom

Chapter 5: At Second Glance

Madame Giry hesitated before the ornate gilt door to the Louis Phillip room. It had been two days since Christine's arrival and the girl had not once left her room, citing her injured leg as the cause of her self-imposed seclusion. Of course, all the inhabitants of Castle Nuit knew that the chit's contempt for the master was the real reason she so skillfully avoided any possible contact with him. But Madame Giry, for one, had had enough; she would be damned if she let this willful girl destroy her hopes of freedom. The housekeeper balanced her tray in one hand as she pushed open the door to Christine's room.

The chamber was encased in shadow, even though the day had progressed well into the morning. Without a look to the large bed where Christine lay buried beneath the covers, Madame Giry crossed the darkened room to set down the heavy tray of rolls on a small breakfast table. The sweeping velvet curtains were pulled back and tied to the curling gold hooks on either side of the large window, revealing sunlight so intense that Christine groaned and turned on her side so as to escape its glare. She was so tired! Couldn't this woman leave her alone to grieve for her father? Christine pulled the thick comforter over her head in an attempt to block out the irksome rays and return to her rest.

Madame Giry sighed and walked over to the girl, dragging the covers away. She stood sternly, lecturing the child with both hands firmly planted on her hips, "Really, Christine, this can't be healthy. Look, I've brought you some breakfast and I've called for Meg. When you've finished eating, you will go with Meg on a tour of the estate. The master says that if you don't get out of that bed today, your muscles will atrophy. Besides you must be restless."

Christine cried out miserably, "That monster can rot in hell!" She tried to burrow under the covers again to no avail.

Madame Giry grimaced, "The monster, as you call my lord, has treated your leg and offered you all the luxuries this castle can afford. Really Christine, you're nearly twenty and here you are acting like you're eight" She really could not understand Erik's plan of action, if he had any, that is. He too refused to step out of his quarters unless he was sure the girl was asleep in her bed. The pair was insufferable.

The impetuous girl bit her lip, cursing herself for insulting the woman who had shown her such kindness these past few days. She apologized immediately, "I am sorry, Madame, truly. I'll be ready within the hour. Please, eat with me."

The woman acquiesced and sat down at the round breakfast table. Gingerly testing her weight on the injured appendage, Christine rose and pulled on a thin satin robe. In a feeble attempt at small talk, Christine commented on the breakfast as she delicately smeared a dollop of butter over a roll.

"The rolls are excellent; they feel like you just pulled them from the fire, Madame Giry. It's really amazing. How do you do it?"

Madame Giry paused pensively. When she spoke, it was in an emotionless and business-like tone. "This house is enchanted. I've been able to master some of that magic. I can't do anything drastic, but I can conjure up a couple charms." Christine laughed gleefully. Surely the woman was crazy! Madame Giry looked at the girl sternly, causing an abrupt end to the laughter, "The rolls? The clothing? Have you absolutely no awareness of the world around you?"

Christine stammered, "Meg said something about my clothing that first night, but I thought she was merely talking nonsense…"

"The curse is the core of Castle Nuit. We will stay enslaved like this forever unless" The women suddenly broke off. She was an idiot if she even thought of revealing the key to undoing the curse. Christine's love must grow gradually, untainted by any pity for those imprisoned by it.

"What?" Christine spoke fearfully, her voice a choked whisper. In the back of her mind she had known there was no logical explanation for some of what she'd seen the past two days. Maybe that would explain the enchanting music that she had heard the first night.

"Nothing, dear. Just remember that things are never what they seem in this place. I'll go see if Meg has arrived yet from the servant's quarters."

Madame Giry rose regally, taking the tray with her and praying that Christine's decision to finally leave her room would somehow land her in Erik's arms. Hopefully, Nadir's efforts to rouse the master had been successful as well.

)–/–

"Damn it, you fool! I know what I need to do. Do you honestly think I want to stay like this forever?" Erik gestured wildly at his face. For once he was unmasked in front of Nadir. What was wrong with everyone lately?

Nadir continued calmly, gently putting away the decanter of whiskey that had been Erik's sole nourishment for the past few days. "Erik, Fate will walk away unless you're there to change her course."

Erik scoffed and flopped face-down onto his bed. "Really, Nadir," he droned, "Where do you get all those impossible proverbs?"

The Persian ignored his master and attempted to reason with him. "Christine needs to fall in love with you. How can she if you won't even talk to her?"

Erik stumbled out of his bed and over to a basin of water. He felt like a child had taken a bass drum and beat it next to his head for over half the night. He shuddered as he splashed the cold liquid on his face. "What happened to the hot water?" He cried imperiously.

"Ah, Antoinette thought that perhaps cold water would refresh you more quickly." Nadir efficiently locked the liquor cabinet and pocketed the key.

Erik groaned. "What am I to do? It's no use. She's so beautiful and I'm…well, look at me!" He turned pointedly to face Nadir. He hadn't looked in a mirror for years, but the revulsion in Nadir's expression was just as horrible as staring at his own reflection.

Nadir replied humorlessly, "You have a point." Despite Erik's caustic glance as he swiftly replaced his mask, the Persian continued, "Use what you have: your wit, your charm, your music."

Erik sighed despondently, "I haven't written anything since she's come. My entire inspiration has fled." He hit the table with his fist. "Dammit, Nadir! This is unbearable!"

Nadir held out Erik's newly pressed clothing. "My daughter will be showing Christine around the castle today. At five, Meg will excuse herself momentarily to assist her mother with some minor preparations for dinner, leaving Christine alone in the rose garden. Approach her there and try to civilly ask her to join you for dinner in the formal dining room tonight."

"When did you plan this bit of treachery?"

Nadir shrugged, "Family collaboration. We're hell-bent on ridding ourselves of the curse."

Erik supposed he should feel insulted that his servants thought he needed help to woo Christine, but Nadir was right. The curse had to be broken and soon; he did not have a lot of time until it ran out. Erik spoke gently, "It's bound to be a fiasco, but I'll do it."

"Good," Nadir motioned to leave the room, only to turn around belatedly. "Five o'clock then, in the rose garden." Nadir gathered the empty glasses near Erik's bed and left his master alone. The basin of cold water hit the closing door, punctuated only by the master's loud curse.

)–/–

"Come on Christine! You'll love this!" Meg laughed merrily as she ran down a slight hill on the eastern side of the estate. Christine followed more slowly, leaning on an enchanted stick-turned-cane courtesy of Madame Giry. Meg turned back at the bottom of the hill and, upon seeing her companion's agonizingly slow pace, plopped down on the sweet grass and began aimlessly braiding a chain of dandelions.

The day had been glorious. The two girls clung to each other eagerly, becoming fast friends in a place where they were the only youth. Christine was slowly acclimating to the magic of this castle: certain doors that swung open by themselves, wall fixtures that reached to take your hat or coat – they all seemed vaguely acceptable now.

Meg had given Christine a thorough tour of Castle Nuit's elegant halls, including a trip into the large chapel on the second floor and the various parlors and game rooms on the ground floor. The library and ballroom were stunning, high-domed rooms Christine wished she could have seen more of, but Meg bored easily, especially since she had grown up around the opulence and beauty. When Christine had ventured to ask about the hidden staircase she had stumbled upon that first night, Meg giggled and rattled of a scandalous history of the master's father, a rogue who had constructed several secret passages so he might visit his various mistresses. At that Christine had grown cold and asked if any of the passages led to her room. Meg assured her that if there were any, the master was decent enough to respect her privacy. Christine did not express her doubts on that matter of opinion.

Once outside the castle, the pair reveled in the sunshine, wandering around the orchards and enjoying a small luncheon in the servant's quarters, a quaint cottage where the only three remaining servants lived. After that, Meg led Christine to the stables so she could assure herself that Belle was alright. The horse neighed happily when she saw her mistress, and whinnied even more when Christine fed her a fresh carrot. The black steed in the stall near Belle's frightened Christine a bit especially when he snapped at Meg, but she thought it only fair to feed him a carrot as well. He accepted the treat willingly, even submitting his proud neck to the strokes of Christine's fingertips.

Everything Christine saw and did surprised her. This place of sunshine and beauty differed so greatly from the dungeon she had first fell into. Her wound burned mildly under the layers of her petticoats and skirt, but to be outdoors once more was an unmatched pleasure that invigorated her.

Christine finally reached the bottom of the hill and Meg placed the dandelion crown on her new-found friend's head. "Come on, then, Queen Christine!" She grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her through a small copse and out into the splendor of a thriving garden.

Christine gasped in surprise. "This was outside my room that whole time?"

Meg rolled her eyes, "Yes, but you were to busy moaning. Here, what's your favorite color? Yellow, pink, white?"

Christine giggled, "Well, red I guess ."

"Ah, a traditionalist!" Meg plucked a full blooming red rose and, tossing the dandelion crown to the ground, stuck the stunning bud behind Christine's ear. She coaxed a curl out Christine's plaited hair to hang regally down the side of her face. Her tone ever pleasant, Meg asked, innocently enough, "What's your hair look like down?"

Christine gave Meg a quizzical look, laughter tainting her voice. "Why?"

"Please, Christine. I haven't spoken to anyone my age ever. Amuse me?"

Christine grinned and began to unbraid her chestnut hair from its tight confines. A thought suddenly came to her, "Why didn't you speak to anyone in the village?"

Meg scrunched her nose slightly in surprise. "I didn't speak because I couldn't."

"That doesn't make any sense. Did your master forbid you to?" The last sentence held a disrespect that Meg balked at.

"Christine, please. Don't judge Lord Erik after you've only met him once. There's more to him than what he appears."

Christine laughed merrily and shook out the remainder of her hair, letting the waves fall softly around her shoulders and down her spine. "Lord Erik?" She raised her eyebrow at Meg's blush. "You didn't answer my question." She capriciously added, "Does it have to do with the curse?"

Meg blanched. She'd known Christine was smart, but she hadn't expected her to know about it yet. "I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you about that. But since you asked, yes." She sighed and stared at her hands. "I was born after the curse, so I can leave the grounds, but I turn mute. It's a lot better than what happens to the other's though. I'm the only person on the grounds who's able to leave. Well, I guess the master can leave if he wants."

"So why doesn't he?" Christine tightened the cream shawl she had around her body. The sun had started its descent and a slight breeze began to stir the flowers around the girls.

"Because of his - " Meg quickly stopped when she saw a shadow creep out from behind a corner of the castle. She prayed he hadn't heard their conversation. Theatrically, Meg glanced at a nearby sundial and gasped, "Oh my! Mother asked me to help her with dinner. I really must go. Please, Christine, forgive me. Stay out here a while, I'll be back in ten minutes. Aren't you warm?"

The girl's babbling caught Christine off guard and she repeated dumbly, "Warm?" She had changed subjects so quickly, it blew her mind.

"Yes, let me take that thick shawl!"

"Well, alright." Christine offered Meg the shawl as the girl silently took in her appearance. A green wool gown graced her figure perfectly. The neckline swooped to a modest point, but revealed enough to show a hint of the swell of her breasts. Christine chuckled, "What? Don't I look alright? It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone."

Meg grinned and straightened the lace peeking out of Christine's sleeves, "No, no! You look lovely. I'll be back soon." With that, Meg ran off, entering the house through a set of French doors that led into the grand ballroom.

Meg could be odd, but she had been so terribly isolated for a girl her age that her behavior was almost forgivable. Christine sighed, hoping that when she escaped this place, as she knew she must, she could still meet with the girl occasionally in the village.

Christine wandered contentedly around the prolific rose garden, marveling at the flower's artful arrangement and outstanding health. She hummed quietly to herself, eventually graduating into a simple lullaby that reminded her of home. Kneeling carefully so as not to aggravate the wound, she settled her skirts around her.

Behind the corner of the building, Erik shuddered. That voice! He had never heard anything like it before. So clear, so untouched by any of the outrageous attempts at vocal originality most singers tried. The voice rocked him in a sacred ecstasy that nearly brought him to his knees. Instantly, he knew that he had to hear her sing his work…not Don Juan, of course, but something else, something not too painful that he had written long ago…

Moving from his hiding spot, he saw the girl shiver in the breeze. Taking the velvet cloak from his own form, he soundlessly came up behind her and dropped it over hers. His gloved fingers grazed her shoulders in the process. Christine gasped in surprise before turning to thank him. Erik's tall figure momentarily blocked out the sun as he moved to look her in the eye.

He spoke before she had a chance to thank him. "Where did you learn to sing like that?"

"What?" The girl gasped, frightened both of his queer mask and the desperation in his voice.

"Never mind! It doesn't matter!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, forcing her to follow him.

"Stop, please!" Christine yelled as loudly as she could manage, hoping that the monster could be stopped before he caused her to re-injure the wound he had healed. "You're hurting me! My leg!"

Erik composed himself, lessening his iron grip on Christine's hand. "I am a musician and it has been decades since anyone has sung my music. I am here begging," Erik brought her closer to him then. "Begging you to please sing for me."

Christine was suspicious, but if he spoke in earnest then she finally had some bargaining power. "Will you let me free if I sing for you?"

"I can't do that." Erik replied flatly.

"Well, I refuse." Christine turned to leave the man before her.

"Fine, I'll let you go!" He gasped, knowing that he would risk everything just to hear her sing his music, his words.

"Yes?" Christine turned, acting as arrogant as she could manage.

"I'll let you go soon I swear. Just please, please sing for me."

"When can I leave?" She leaned against the wall of the castle rubbing her leg.

"Soon, the specifics can be worked out later." Minding her leg, he lead her along more slowly.

Eagerly, Erik rushed them to the secret entrance she had stumbled upon earlier. She followed as he raced up the stairs and out into a darkened hallway. He dragged her into his study, locking the door behind them.

During Christine's tour earlier, Meg had ignored this entire wing of the house. She now knew why: this place was entirely Erik's. It had a different quality to it than the other rooms in the castle. It looked lived-in and loved, with various instruments strewn all over the place and papers sticking out at odd angles from books and drawers. The centerpiece of the room was the magnificent pipe organ, as stately as any she'd seen in the famous cathedrals of the land.

Erik tore open his desk and rifled through the endless supply of music sheets, searching for the one piece. He had written the opera long ago, a flippant piece in the Italian style. But it had a brilliant aria, a young bride's lament for her lost lover that he knew would sound heavenly accompanied by the sweet tone of her voice.

He found it and thrust the words at Christine, pulling her to the organ. "Here, you can read can't you?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Good, the melody…" Once he started playing, time lost its meaning. Both were lost in a torrent of music that threatened to drown them.

)–/–

The only other inhabitants of the house looked up in surprised at the floor above them. Meg's eyes widened and knowingly, she nodded at her mother. Nadir retrieved his coat and the women's shawls, opening the kitchen door so they might leave the tutor and his student alone.

Padme's Author Note: Thank you to all who reviewed, they make our day. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's the longest yet. I have good news and bad news though. So here's the good news first: Most of chapter six is already written, and just needs to be revised and re-worked. The bad news is that Jazzetry will not be available for editing until March 30th. Until then, I will be writing up a storm. So you can expect a couple of quick 1-2 updates at the end of the week. Oh yeah, the )–/– that you see should have an "at" sign in front of it to make a rose. Just in case anyone was wondering.

And a chocolate Easter bunny goes to the people who figured out why Nadir calls Madame Giry Antoinette.