Although she felt terribly guilty about reading the letter addressed to Erik from Christine, it relieved her in a way. Erik must have asked to see her in person, and she flatly refused him. She said that she missed him, but she had been careful to emphasize that she was not about to leave her husband for him. Gia was disappointed that she did not say anything that would indicate she had no desire to hear from him again. At no point did she say out right, "Do not write me." Erik would take that as encouragement to continue to write her. If could write letters like he could compose, he would try to woo her with passionate words. Perhaps time had taught him the value of patience.
How long would she be able to withstand his advances? Eventually she would have to make an ultimate decision and the thought of Christine breaking his heart again pained her. Gia had never seen him kill, but she had no doubt he could and would do it if necessary. He moved like a killer, soft and quick. With his strength and large hands, he could wring the breath from a man's throat or snap his neck. If Christine responsed to him then rejected him again, Erik would kill again. Whether he would confine it to simply her and her family was the only question in Gia's mind.
She put the letter aside on her dressing table, then went behind her screen to change out of her ballet uniform. It would have been prudent to put on a nightgown, but she was so physically spent, the only thing she had energy to put on was her old robe. The cotton was soft and soothing to her overheated skin. Gia poured some water into the wash basin and splashed her face with water. He would be coming soon, and she needed to be sharp. At the moment, if she were to lie down she would be asleep in minutes.
Although, that might not be such a bad thing, if he found her asleep he might simply take the letter and leave. No, she thought, he would see it had been opened, and then he would have questions. If he asked her if she read it, Gia would not lie to him. She had not lied to him before, and she was not about to do so. It would anger him, and that sort of betrayal might cause him to leave her. A part of her wondered if she had read the note knowing that confessing to doing that could sabotage their relationship. Was she trying to drive him away?
In the meantime, she settled into a chair and took out one of her favorite books. It was a collection of fairy tales, something a woman of her age would not normally read. But they brought her back to when she was young and believed in handsome princes and that everyone lived happily ever after. When she came to "Beauty and the Beast" she skipped past it. The next story was "Sleeping Beauty", which had always been a favorite. Gia had just gotten to the moment where Aurora pricks her finger when she heard Erik coming through the wardrobe. She put the book aside and got up to get Christine's letter. She then returned to the chair and kept the note in her lap, making no effort to conceal it from view.
Erik's cloak swished as he entered the room, his eyes bright with exertion. He had been singing to himself, but stopped the moment he saw Gia sitting in her chair, with her bare legs peeking out from the dressing gown. Was she trying to drive him mad with lust? She could not know how fetching she looked, despite the fact that robe had seen better days. It was faded and worn in places, but that did not detract from her allure. As his eyes traveled up her long frame, he noticed that she had a note in her lap. The paper was bright white and looked rather expensive. Who could be sending her notes, he wondered?
"Who is that letter from Gia?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"It is for you. It is from Christine. Madame Giry received it this afternoon, and she left it for me under my door," she replied as she handed him the letter. He was trembling as he read it. Gia watched as his eyes moved up and down the page as though he was looking for something that was not there, but his expression remained inscrutable. His head shot up as though he realized he was not alone, and he tucked the letter into the inner pocket of his top coat.
It was only after he put it away that it occurred to him the seal on the letter had been broken before he had read it. He had been in such a hurry to see Christine's response that that fact had somehow escaped him.
"Why was the seal on the letter broken when you gave it to me?"
"The outer envelope was addressed to Madame Giry. I imagine she opened it initially thinking the letter was for her," she answered, hoping he would not ask any more questions.
"And she gave the letter to you, with it already opened? Did you read it, Gia?" he questioned her, his voice rising in intensity with every syllable.
She closed her eyes, wishing that when she opened them he would have disappeared. She could still lie, but deception was not her way. He would see through it and hate her all the more for trying to deceive him. It was better that she tell him the truth.
"Yes," was all she said, looking at him directly as she said it. She would not look away from his hard gaze.
"Do you realize what you have done? How could you do that to me? I trusted you. More than I have trusted anyone in years," he advanced on her and shook her lightly by the shoulders as he implored her, "Why?"
"I don't know, Erik. I just had to," was her only response to his desperate query.
His earlier thoughts banished, he found himself nearly sick at the sight of her. At least she had the good grace to look away, cognizant of the fact that their relationship could never be the same. Before he could do something they would both regret, Erik retreated from the room, wanting to get as far away from her as possible. He slammed the wardrobe behind him, and when he reached the landing he noticed his face was wet with tears.
It was over. Erik would never speak to her again. It was all irretrievably broken. Never again would she be subject to his quick temper and dangerous whims. Never again would she be rocked in the magnificent cradle that was his body, holding her until morning, and sometimes singing sweetly in her ear. The loss hit her hard, as though she had been struck in the stomach with Madame Giry's wooden staff. She crawled into her bed, and she was soon overcome by wracking sobs. Her throat wanted to close up, and it was difficult to draw breath. Strangely, none of that mattered to her. She deserved to die after so carelessly casting aside all the trust he had put in her. Erik was gone, never to confide in her again. As evening fell, Gianna Burnside cried herself to sleep.
As Erik was making his way back to his home, needing the solace that only his music could bring him, he overheard Madame Giry sending her daughter to their room for the evening while she returned briefly to the practice rooms.
"Meg, I believe I rather absentmindedly left the lamps on in one of the rooms. I must go check to be certain the lights are extinguished."
"Alright Maman, I shall see you soon," said Meg before she dashed off to their room.
Seeing that Antoinette was alone, he followed closely behind her, keeping himself hidden from view. Perhaps she would have some insight into why Gia would have done something like this. He could not accept that she would be that callous with his feelings. She had to have known that there would be dire consequences if she read that letter! Had he been mistaken all this time that she had cared anything for him? Or had be pushed her too far in their last intimate assignation and she was looking for a way to end things without telling him he disgusted her?
"Erik, I know you are there. Show yourself," came Madame Giry's voice from the darkened hallway. He must be losing his touch. But Antoinette had always had the uncanny knack of knowing when he was present.
"Indeed I am," he said smoothly as he emerged from the gloom.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I have not seen you in sometime. You have been occupied with Mlle. Burnside."
He responded rather stiffly, "I do not think I shall be spending time with Mlle. Burnside in the near future."
"Really? Does she know that?" the ballet mistress inquired. What could have happened that he would break from her completely? Christine had to be involved in some way. Why could he not put her behind him? Gia was here! She was in love with him! For a man blessed with such an ear for music, sometimes she wondered if it had dulled his sense of sight.
"She read a letter that was meant for me alone. She breached my trust. She cannot take that back," his voice betraying how much Gia had hurt him.
"That damned letter from Christine, wasn't it? I opened it when it arrived, and then she read it after I gave it to her. Did you catch her reading it?"
"No. She did not even try to lie. I asked if she read it, and she admitted it to my face. I must admit I am puzzled why. I did not think she was capable of something like that."
Madame Giry sighed. She did not think that Gia would read the letter, but she supposed her curiosity was natural. If anything, she probably read it out of fear of what the letter might contain. "Erik, did it occur to you she sees Christine as a rival for your affections? Do you not see that she is jealous that you not return her feelings? She wanted to know how great a threat the viscomtess poses. At least, that is what I would do in her position."
"Are you suggesting that Gia is in love with me? Don't be daft!" he crowed.
"Erik, women in love have been known to do more foolish things than reading the letters belonging to their beloved. Think! She did not even try to hide it from you! She would risk your ire rather than lie to you. Those are not the actions of a woman who does not care for a man." These two people were so inexperienced with love that they were both doing their utmost to destroy what they had created. New love was a fragile thing, like a house of cards, and it would fall apart if the center was removed. Trust was that center for Erik.
"How can I ever trust her again? How do I know she will not run to Dupoix and tell him exactly where to find me?"
"You cannot honestly think she would do such a thing? Think of what she risked in telling you the truth. Think of what she has risked to be with you at all!" Madame Giry watched Erik intently as his gaze softened slightly. It seemed that being reminded that he was not alone in putting himself in harm's way had an effect on him.
If Erik felt like being vindictive, he could write one of his famous notes to Adrienne Leveau giving details of his physical relationship with Gianna Burnside that she would gladly distribute to the world at large. If the outside world ever learned that she became the lover of the Phantom of the Opera, the man who had destroyed the Opera Populaire, and had killed at will, she would lose everything. Dupoix would have to dismiss her to avoid a scandal, and it would be next to impossible for her to find work in Paris. It would mean starting a new life with a new name in a new city something that Gia was probably not strong enough to do at the moment. She might even face criminal prosecution for withholding information about a wanted man from the authorities.
"Erik, perhaps what you both need is some time apart from each other. I know it must seem impossible at the moment, but try to think of this from her perspective." Erik was simply standing there, unable to look away from her. She did something she had always been hesitant to do in the past, she touched him. She cupped his cheek gently and said to him softly, "I am certain she loves you Erik. She may have never said it because she knows you do not return her feelings, but there is love there. Do not turn your back so easily on that." With that, she removed her hand from his face, leaving Erik slightly stunned.
He found it hard to respond to that. Giry had never knowingly lied to him, even during the entire mess with Christine. She had always been his closest friend and confidante up until he taken Gia to his bed. He had loved Christine, but they had never been close in that way. He had always seen her as impossibly above him, and he was always striving to improve himself so that he might be worthy of her love. Not just her love, but anything. Her very touch, the sound of her voice speaking his name had, at one time, meant more to him than almost anything. Despite all of that, they had never had what could be called a conversation. There had never been time for one.
"I will say this, Antoinette, I will take your advice for now. A separation will give me some time to ruminate on what you have said. Tell her if she wishes to contact me, she may write to me. I will not refuse a letter," he said as he moved away from her, retreating back into the familiar darkness.
Erik tossed and turned in his bed that evening, his head filled with Madame Giry's words about Gia. Could she truly love him? How could any woman be capable of that?
It had been so much easier when he thought all they shared was lust and a desire to slake it on each other. He had been so sure that he would not give a damn if she made the mistake of falling in love with him. He thought he would enjoy being the one to do the rejecting. Instead, he could not sleep because all he could imagine is how she must feel. To find out your love was one sided and not returned was a soul killing thing. There had been days after Christine left him that suicide had seemed like a viable solution to ending the pain.
He would watch her closely to make sure she did not stupidly hurt herself over him. A part of him wanted to laugh, here he was, the mysterious Phantom of the Opera, fretting over whether he had broken someone's heart. It shouldn't matter to him. It was her fault for intruding into something that was none of her business. If she hadn't they would probably be enjoying each other's caresses and feel of skin on skin rather than lying awake in a cold bed, alone. He even slept better with her. The nightmares of the men he had killed were dispelled as he lay in her embrace. Their voices had diminished in that couple of weeks. Could she even accept that part of him?
How could she fall in love with a man who had not even wooed her properly? This was a woman who kept row upon row of well worn romance novels on her bookshelf. She must expect that the man she would love would bring her flowers and greet her with soft words and even softer kisses. He had used his body and his voice to seduce her, and it had worked better than he had hoped. And once she had fallen into his bed, she had been the kind of partner he always wished for. Curious, not afraid to explore the darker side; considerate but willing to tell him what she needed. He reflected it had been a good thing they had nearly always had their encounters down here, they both had a tendency to very vocal.
How could she love him? He had insulted her on more than one occasion. He had trespassed in her room. He had forced her to attend a dinner in order to gain more information about Christine and her husband. After years of having an unimpeachable character, he had managed to stir up gossip that she had a lover. And that was not even considering the fact he had insisted she take one of leading roles in a ballet despite a ten year absence. He told himself that Madame Giry must have read her wrong. That was a comforting thought.
Since sleep did not appear to be any nearer, he got out of bed and picked up his top coat and drew out Christine's letter. He read it over again. It was a letter of contradictions. She thanked him for being her tutor and said she forgave him, and yet she refused to meet with him, saying it would be too difficult to conceal from her husband. She had used the formal greeting "Dear Sir" but addressed him as Erik later. He found it fascinating that although she said that she loved her husband, she never explicitly told him not to contact her again. She had even said she had missed him.
He would have to write her again. He would find a way to convince her to come to Paris again. She would undoubtedly hear from Meg about the Metropolitan's production of Giselle. She would want to support her friend who would be dancing for the first time in a leading role in an important ballet on a major stage.
She would come, and they would see each other. They would talk. He wanted her to see how he had changed. He wanted her to know that she had not defeated him. Only now was he becoming uncertain if he wanted her if she offered herself to him. It was not because she had been with another man, or even that she had a child, and depriving that child of his mother would be cruel. A thought was continuing to press its way into his consciousness: he was falling in love with Gia Burnside.
Why should love ever be easy for him? The moment his former muse was becoming available to him, he was becoming attached to another. Why did life play such tricks on him? Could he not be happy? Erik put the letter on his dressing table and returned to bed.
He slept fitfully, his dreams filled with Gia and Christine and being forced to choose between them. They both stood before him wearing wedding gowns, imploring him to join himself in marriage to them. Christine wore the wedding gown he had designed for her with a long veil and Gia was wearing a much simpler white walking dress with a high neckline and a small matching hat. Christine looked so pale and delicate, her long chestnut curls tumbling down her shoulders, her eyes wide and tear-filled. But Gia stood before him proud, her eyes clear, as if to say, "You know why you should choose me." He extended his hand to the woman who would be his bride.
When he awoke the next morning in a cold sweat he could not remember who it had been.