A/Ns: romancebookworm4ever – Thank you for taking the time to review. In answer to your questions so far, I should perhaps explain that I tend to reveal things with little clues along the way, rather than stating them outright. Yes, Gustaave Daae is dead. If you read my author's notes at the beginning, this story takes place after the events beneath the Opera Populaire from the 2004 movie. It will become very obvious that he is so later in story. As for your comment about Chapter 2, I understand what you said about the ring, but remember that Erik is telling the reader in that chapter what he believed the ring to represent. He has only experienced rejection and cruelty before in his life and she just left him for another – most likely he would not see the ring as a token of affection in that context, although I do believe she meant it that way. Keep commenting, I enjoy it, but I hope there is an easier way to reply. I had to delete the chapter and then reload it with my reply. If you want to give me your email, I could respond more quickly. Yeah, you gotta love Erik and Elsa, and Christine will be much more loveable by the end of the story as well.
4. Unspoken Regrets
The days Christine spent at the Valerius manor passed quickly. Nearly six months had gone by since that fateful night beneath the Opera Populaire. And with each passing day, she grew fonder of Elsa, and sincerely began to look forward to their little chats in the garden. Since that first day, however, Elsa had not brought up the subject of Christine's divided heart, seeming content for now to allow her to broach it when she was ready.
Raoul made his visits every few days for tea. He and Christine would take a pleasant stroll together, and he would kiss her gently on the cheek before leaving. He had made no mention of any further wedding plans, and she mentally thanked him for his limitless patience with her. All in all, the days passed without incident in her new temporary home. But while the days at the Valerius manor were blissfully peaceful in their passing, the nights were not so.
For it was at night, that Christine felt that dull ache in her soul. She would spend hours on her balcony each evening, staring out into the night as if listening for something in the darkness. Elsa often saw her there when she took her evening walk through the gardens. Sometimes she would sit on the bench beneath the cherry tree and watch the tiny, lonely figure on the balcony. Christine never noticed her there. She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. On some nights, like tonight, Elsa would hear her singing softly, whether to herself or someone else she could never tell, but it was always the same song. Always the same haunting melody, unlike any Elsa had ever heard in all her years as a patroness of the musical arts. And then there were the nightmares.
On the second night after Christine had arrived, they had begun. Elsa had walked to Christine's door, intending to check that her young guest had all that she needed, when she heard Christine sobbing and crying out in her sleep. Unwilling to eavesdrop, yet concerned, she had opened the door slightly and stepped inside. There she found Christine, curled into a ball on the bed, weeping bitterly with her head in her hands. When she had reached down to take the fragile girl into her arms, Christine had turned to her wild with agony, her voice nearly hysterical, "You didn't see his eyes. I betrayed him. He trusted me. He trusted me. And I betrayed him. Oh, the pain in those eyes. And I am to blame. He trusted me...He trusted me..."
Oh, how she had wept that night. Finally exhausted, she had fallen asleep in Elsa's arms. In the nights after, Elsa would pause at Christine's door before going to sleep herself, and on many occasions, would find herself soothing Christine back to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.
Every morning, she waited for Christine to tell her about the nightmares, to explain about the evenings spent singing to herself on her balcony and staring out into the night. And every morning, Christine emerged with a tremulous smile and nothing but polite conversation to impart.
Elsa sighed. She knew she would not be able to convince the vicomte to wait much longer before speaking to Christine about the plans for their wedding. And she also knew that if anything, Christine's feelings for this other man, this Angel, ran even deeper than she had originally suspected. No, the marriage was sure to be a disaster if Christine could not recognize in the light of day the bond she shared with this other man. But how much she dared to push Christine, she did not know. The girl was still very fragile, both physically and emotionally. Though she was served the finest meals, she had failed to gain back the weight she had lost, and her color was still very pale. She cried easily, and seemed to become very distraught whenever she was left alone.
Elsa sighed again. Ahh, Christine, ma chère, you must learn to become stronger in your own mind and heart before you are ready to pledge them to another, she thought silently.