A/N: I was having problems with this chapter, but then I sat down tonight and wrote it all in one go… due mostly to the fact that I just finished watching Phantom, and, after much weeping, ran down here to make myself feel better. :D Anyway, I'm not quite sure if I like this chapter… but I've worked on it for several hours now and I can't think of anything else to do with it. Hope it works. :)

Lucrecia LeVrai: At last, my quest for longer chapters has been achieved!

babymene17: Do any of us like Raoul? lol!

mrmistoffelees: About the Star Wars thing… it was about how at the end of Chapter 9, Erik says "I love you" and Christine says "I know." I didn't even realize I was making a reference to Star Wars until somebody (who I'm assuming is a fan) pointed it out to me. :) And about your review… hey, I will do anything to please Erik. Wait, that didn't sound right… not anything… well, yes. Anything. XD

Becky and Clayphan16: She's not going back to Raoul exactly, just back to Marie's because otherwise, Raoul will find her, with Erik, and then the st will hit the fan…

et-spiritus-sancti: I have no idea where to find the Kay book online. I'll ask around and let you know when I find it. :)

Nade-Naberrie: Your review had me in stitches! XD

Chapter 21

The moment Christine arrived back at the house, Marie swept down the wide staircase like a mother bird and enfolded her in a relieved embrace.

"Oh, Christine!" she said breathlessly. "I was so worried! Where on earth have you been?"

"I'm so sorry, I went out on a walk, early this morning – " Christine swallowed hard " – and I lost track of time." She felt a pang of guilt for lying to this kind woman, who had shown her nothing but kindness. "Did you find my note?"

"Why yes, I did – I'm such a heavy sleeper, I must not have even noticed when you came in! But... a walk?"

"Yes, I thought you would've assumed such when you found my note… I should have been more specific instead of just mentioning that I was borrowing a cloak." Christine pulled the item in question off her shoulders, and a maid materialized from nowhere and bore it away. "I apologize for borrowing it without asking; was it terribly forward of me?"

"No, it is fine," Marie replied distractedly. "Its just…" she looked troubled. "You went out walking without chaperone or companion?"

Christine bit her lip. Had she made some inappropriate faux pas? "Was that wrong of me?"

"Christine…" Marie looked slightly pained. "I do not wish to hurt your feelings in any way, especially under my roof. I do not at all consider you to be improper, but it is only natural for you to have a different sense of… propriety than people such as myself."

Christine's cheeks burned; she looked away, but Marie caught her chin gently. "Please don't be upset, Christine – I mean this in the nicest of ways." It was true; her voice held no scorn, merely kindness. "You are by all means a modest and proper girl, but I know your life at the theater has not well prepared you to be the wife of nobility. In order to be considered at all decent in the upper levels of society, there are certain social guidelines that must be followed."

"One of them being… no walks alone."

"Yes. There are correct ways for everything. I could stand here all day and dictate them to you, but… simply, there are things you do and things you don't do."

Christine wondered what "improprieties" she had committed already, and Erik was brought instantly to mind. She blushed again. "I'm sorry, Marie, if I've shamed you in any way – "

"It is nothing." Marie interrupted. "It is not your fault. I will teach you everything needed to instill a correct sense of decorum." She ushered Christine into the dining room. "Now, you must be famished. I'll have the cook to make you something."

X X X

The week passed by at its normal speed. Several times a day Christine hurried upstairs to feel anxiously under her pillow for a note, but none came.

Marie took her out on the town, shopping and walking in the Bois and to luncheons with her friends. Christine felt awkward and uncomfortable under the critical eyes of the high-society women; but Chagny was a famous and respected name, and, with the unspoken protection of Marie at her side, the upper crust women were aloofly civil, if far from warm.

Raoul visited almost every day for lunch or dinner, asking about her health, commenting on her lovely new clothes, or telling her of the plans for the Opera.

"It will be reopened," he informed her one day over a cup of tea. "It will take quite some time, of course, but my parents are willing to help fund the extensive renovations. The fire only reached the top several levels, you know."

Christine wasn't sure how she felt about this, so she just smiled and nodded. Raoul grinned back at her and continued, "We've decided to hold a ball in a month, in hopes that the finest families in Paris will feel entitled to donate to the Opera's restoration." He winked at her, and she had to smile in return.

"It will be wonderful, Christine. Filled with the crème-de-la-crème… everybody knows the Chagnys hold the best balls in France!" He took a sip of tea, then set the cup back in its saucer with a clink. "I'd like you to come with me."

"But you just said – everyone who's anyone will be there. Wouldn't your parents rather you escort a lady more… distinguished?"

"They would," Raoul replied, tipping his chin up arrogantly. "But I have my heart set on you, Christine, and they shall have to accept that I will be arriving at the ball with you." He leaned forward and have her a chaste kiss.

Christine let him, feeling slightly guilty but knowing there was nothing to be done about it. What could she say? Please don't kiss me, my dear, I'm in love with the Opera Ghost.

"So, Christine, will you come?"

She let out a breath and couldn't help but smile at him. "Yes, Raoul."

X X X

The ball was to be held in four weeks, giving the Chagny family time to prepare, along with the rest of high society. There were invitations to be sent out by the hundreds, a menu to prepare, musicians to hire, décor and floral arrangements to decide on.

The shops were packed with wealthy young ladies, picking out ribbons and jewelry, shoes and gloves, baubles and fans, being measured for lavish dresses and deciding on the perfect fabrics and frills, gossiping all the while about who would be there, who they hoped to see, and which young men they hoped to fill their dance cards with.

Christine's mind was boggled by the extravagance but, like the girl she was, she couldn't help but delight in it. She and Marie flitted from shop to shop like overexcited butterflies, oohing and aahing over laces and silks and brocades. Christine was fitted for a ball gown, outrageously expensive but heartily approved by Marie. The pale gold taffeta, drawn up in the back and cascading down over a full skirt and train, tight bodice, low neckline and off-the shoulder sleeves made Christine felt like a child playing dress up in the stunning ensemble. Shifting and turning in front of the circle of mirrors in the dressmaker's shop, she voiced her thoughts aloud. Marie just laughed. "Oh no, you're not overdressed at all – not by far. There will be ladies there with gowns three times as extravagant! It is always so when a wealthy family holds a ball as huge as this one will be."

Christine knew the money for the dress had come from Raoul, and later she thanked him profusely for it. "Think of it as a wedding present," he replied with a grin. A cold frisson ran down her spine, but she forced a smile and offered her cheek for a kiss.

Guilt plagued her at night. Here she was, with Raoul showering her with gifts and Marie housing her under her own roof, taking her shopping and treating her like a sister. But that's just what they expected - they considered her Raoul's fiancée! It was just... every time she laughed with Marie, or fussed over a hat in a milliner's window, or had lunch with Raoul, she felt a pang of guilt that she knew she would leave them in the blink of an eye.

If Erik is alive, that is.

She tried to banish the thought from her mind, but it stayed like a relentless little needle in her brain. A fortnight had passed since she had left the hotel, and not a word from Nadir as he had promised.

The ball was in three weeks. Raoul was planning to formally announce their engagement then. Her stomach churned at the thought – not only of allowing him to believe that she loved him, but at the idea of all society knowing that the son of one of the most important families in Paris was marrying a mere opera singer. And if she did marry him… oh God, the thought was too horrible. Raoul himself was not horrible, but the thought of betraying the one to whom her heart truly belonged… an atrocious and misery-inducing idea.

If she broke the engagement, she would most likely be ruined. Scandal and gossip would follow her wherever she went, and when the name Christine Daae was mentioned, someone would say "She's the girl that left the Vicomte de Chagny." The working classes would wonder why on earth she refused the wealth and fame that accompanied the title of Victomtess... and the upper class would look down on her in condescension and distaste as a trollop who didn't recognize her betters. She would be hard pressed to find work – certainly not at the Opera Populaire where the Chagny's were the patrons!

Damned if she did, damned if she didn't. It made her head hurt to think of it all. She could only pray for a solution.

X X X

When the dress arrived a week later, customized perfectly to Christine's measurements, a small black and gold mask accompanied it.

"Its for the ball, of course," Marie replied when Christine questioned her about it. "A masquerade, don't you know?"

Christine didn't.

When she confronted Raoul the next day, he smiled sheepishly. "I didn't want to tell you, dear," he explained apologetically. "I thought the idea of a masquerade might spook you away."

"Don't you think a masquerade might be somewhat tasteless, considering…"

"Yes, I do," he replied. "That's why it's not a full masquerade. No costumes, no disguises, just decorative little masks."

"But… why masks at all?"

"It was my parents' idea – keeping with the 'theater' theme, you know. After all, the Opera's renovation is the whole point of the ball." He eyed her for a moment, then said gently, "I doubted that you'd be fond of the idea, especially after… well. But you have no reason to worry. Why, the masks worn to this kind of thing are so small, you can easily recognize everyone!"

She smiled faintly, and he returned the smile with a pleased, boyish grin of his own. Oh Erik, she thought as Raoul embraced her, the expensive fabric of his frock coat pressing into her cheek as he talked of their engagement and wedding. Erik.

X X X

Christine was somewhat subdued at dinner that evening. Marie talked animatedly about the ball, the guests and her husband's return from the country. "He'll be back tomorrow," she said happily, "And then, only another week until the dance!"

Christine did not grudge Marie her excitement – in fact, she shared it – but no matter what she filled her days with, the fact remained in her mind that Nadir had not sent a note. A million possibilities had whirled through her mind the past three weeks, each more disastrous than the last. She trusted Nadir – she believed his promise to be in touch with her. Had he merely forgotten, distracted by some other more important issue? Or had he somehow been rendered incapable of contacting her?

Frustrated, she stabbed at her roast lamb with her fork, becoming even more agitated when the fork impaled itself on bone and she had to use her knife to dislodge it.

Relax, Christine, her mind soothed. Patience.

After dinner, they moved to the sitting room and Marie embroidered while Christine read aloud from a book of poetry. She had little aptitude for needlework, as she had discovered in the past few weeks, but Marie declared she had a "lovely speaking voice" and so, most nights, she read.

It was not even nine o'clock when her eyelids began to droop, her tongue tripping over the simplest of sentences and misreading words when her vision blurred.

"Off to bed with you, then," Marie said with a teasing smile and a wave of her arm towards the door. They had both been up late last night poring over fashion plates… Marie had yet to decide on a gown, and the time to choose was fast slipping away.

Christine replaced the book on the shelf and bid Marie goodnight with a kiss to the cheek. Her feet were heavy as she plodded up the wide stairway, and she declined the maid's offer to help her with her nighttime toilette.

It was deathly quiet upstairs, and the click of the brass door handle seemed unnaturally loud as she opened it. Her senses tingled as she stepped into the pitch black of her bedroom. Her breathing and the rustle of her skirts was the only sound, and she felt along the wall for the gaslight, adjusting the little knob until the faint hissing broke the quiet and light bloomed in the darkness.

She turned away from the wall, and let out a hoarse shocked shriek when she saw Erik reclining comfortably on the bed.