A Letter of Realisation
Dropping the quill Christine gave a long, deep sigh and was distracted by the ticking of the large grandfather clock behind her. She shifted on the wooden chair to view the clock's face and saw that it was almost fifteen minutes past midnight and that she had been in the same position for over an hour. Yet in her heart she had been in a much more difficult situation for so much longer.
Love…
She thought….like Religion….pointless from causing so much pain and holding nothing of what it promises….no joy, no euphoric happiness, and no angel….
Christine had to think this way for she feared that she would go quite insane. She feared once again becoming a quivering mass of guilt, sorrow, and pain, which she had stopped being and blocked out with these thoughts; condemning Love. To her it had brought nothing but pain like a pestilence, a curse. But Christine knew that in the end, and every second until the end, each pulse her heart gave would be filled with what she had tried so hard to mentally bury. That was what held her so strongly in this mental position and in this dimly lit room. Christine was trying to start the task that would save her sanity and, as she hoped, her soul. Above other things Christine knew that in doing so she would have to unbury what for so long she had tried to force from her mind and that she would have to look to the past to move forward. Christine had to dig into her past and wade into her own emotions.
Christine picked up the quill with determination and dipped it into the ink well with a force resulting only in ink blots across the parchment. In frustration she threw the quill down again as though it would burn a hole through her hand.
"Where…to begin"
She exhaled and the flame of the half burned candle moved with her breath. Looking at it as though it were a demon, Christine slowly seized the quill in her shaking grasp and putting it to the parchment she closed her eyes willing the words to flow onto the paper….willing she the words to flow to the parchment….Yet instead of words the images came. The Opera, the Corps De Ballet with their swirling skirts of every colour, the music, Joseph Bouquet's prying eyes and then his garrotted corpse with eyes bulging, Raouls embrace, Erik, his mask, the murders, the choice, the lov-
"Christine…" Raoul whispered, putting a hand on Christine's shoulder. He was taken aback at how she jumped under her husbands touch so quickly, until she turned and smiled up at him. Raoul leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Christine's breath caught in her throat as the memories, shattered by his touch, ebbed away in front of her.
"Christine" Raoul repeated. "It is very late love, please, come to bed. You will be exhausted tomorrow if you do not sleep now."
"I will join you very soon Raoul, go change for bed"
Christine smiled once more before turning away from him…he would only see the open book and assume I have been reading again. . Raoul lingered a few more seconds before turning to leave her. He thought of stealing another kiss from his wife but decided against it, knowing it would be better to leave her for now until she came to him. He paced in their room, shedding his clothes until he was only in trousers and shirtsleeves. Raoul sighed, running a hand though his hair as he sat on their bed. He knew Christine would not hasten to join him, why would she after all that had happened in the six months of their marriage? It had been more eventful, most likely, than that of a couple celebrating their silver wedding anniversary. Once Raoul had finally sunk into bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, it never came and neither did Christine. Anger started to seethe within him, and he knew this night he would gain very little sleep. He wanted his wife beside him and knew that she would not come.
"I do not blame you."
When Christine Daee had arrived on the de Chagny estate with her future husband in the hansom cab, he was amazed by Christine's reaction to the size and décor of his home and was glad that his fiancé was in awe of what would become in part hers. Unfortunately, Raoul had been a fool to have thought that his family would welcome her with open arms.
His mother, although utterly formal in their meeting, was cold and paid no great attention to her son's incessant chirping about this woman, who was barely a woman, but instead a child who would love her sons doting and run back to the opera when she had a chance. Christine had tried her best, although always shying away at formal gatherings, staying by Raoul's side. She accepted all the introductions to those of the aristocracy, trying to remember all the names and the short bursts of information to go along with each person she met. Yet Christine was never comfortable at gatherings and she would always notice how she was looked at by others. This she had tried to ignore for Raouls sake until the night Raoul had found Christine missing from the ballroom, and discovered her in her room, sobbing at a remark the Comptess had made of her to another guest.
" I heard her say it and it was not directly said to me…but oh Raoul…it was meant for me to hear! She does not want me to be with you, she wants me out of your life. How can I marry you, when your own mother despises me so? 'Ah…the little dancer girl that has caught Raouls eye...'" Christine mimicked.
Raoul
had comforted her, assuring her that his family would see in time the
girl Christine was and that they would love her as much as he did,
even if he doubted it. The wedding would go on with or without his
mothers blessing.
It was a smaller ceremony than any de Chagny would have usually held, but the wedding transpired nonetheless. There were rumours that this had come about from the Comptess's disapproval of the marriage, but her feelings could not stop what was to be. Christine was not at all fazed that the ceremony was going to be a small one, as she had not grown up in such lavish surroundings.
Christine started to mould to her new life as Raoul's wife and Viscomtess, although she was still not fully accustomed to the regime of the aristocracy. She made faux pas regularly and was learning from them on a trial and error basis. The family's scrutinising had settled and they started to accept Christine into the de Chagny family, although there were always small hints reminding her that she was only married into a higher class. But after Raoul announced that he was to be a father, which meant he may have an heir, there seemed to be nothing more to do but to accept Christine, for she was giving him a child...she was giving them all a child.
Christine took to pregnancy well. She seemed to glow because she loved how it felt to carry her husband's child and although her pregnancy was still in its early months, Christine still felt the gentle movements within her. The infant, visible through her dresses, it was a sharp but beautiful contrast to her small feminine frame. All of this she adored, but once again the rigmarole of the aristocracy took its toll on her. When Raoul had told her that being seen in public while pregnant was not done, her heart sank to her stomach realising all she would loose, for what would seem such a long time. Christine loved Paris; she loved being around people and her culture, walking in the parks with Raoul and being seen with him in the gardens. Christine had grown accustomed to the many social gatherings Raoul's mother so often arranged, and having Raoul to guide her had made the occasions almost enjoyable.
After months of deprival of public company, Christine did not know if it was sheer ignorance or stubbornness from being whisked away from the pubic eye for so long because of her pregnancy, she went to her wardrobe. Christine shuffled through all of the dresses Raoul had bought her, wading through a mass of colour and material. Her mind was made up, even if Raoul's words rang in her head from earlier in the day, thwarting her protest of wanting to attend this evening's activity.
Christine descended the staircase and walked to the ballroom. She had donned a red lace gown, gold trimmed with a heavy bustle and her coffee coloured curls cascaded around her shoulders and chest. She knew she looked breathtaking. The guests dancing in the ballroom noticed the woman standing at the entrance, some guests were rendered speechless, while others were captivated by torrents of whispers to one another. Taking no notice of the beautiful dress Christine wore, but of what was beneath it…
Raoul had noticed a change in the atmosphere in the room and he looked up to see Christine. Her appearance waved over his senses and for an instant he completely forgot why the stares were aimed at his wife. An urge possessed him to take her by the hand and tell all there that the beautiful angel of a woman who had merely blessed them all with her presence was his, but he caught his mother boring holes through him with her eyes. Raoul cringed under his mothers glare and he was sure he had reddened after he heard his sisters snort and tut disapprovingly at the sight of Christine bearing her condition, for all to see. He swiftly took through the crowd to his wife and apologetically took her by the hand while leading her from the ball room.
Christine's gaze fell to the floor, knowing that she would be scolded by her husband for her disobedience and sheer stubbornness.
"Christin-"
"I am your wife Raoul! We are married! This is not a bastard child , yet you stow me away from life as I grow, as our child grows within me! I am sick of this rigmarole…this…this ridiculous farcical way you and those around you act and the way they live!"
"'Christine now you are being ridiculous! You are acting like a child trying to cause a scene! Now come up stairs and change, I think I have seen enough dramatics from you for tonight. You are no longer a child Christine and this is not the opera. This home is where you are now, you are a de Chagny we have respect. We earned it and must keep it!"
Raoul placed his arm around his wife's waist and led her up the stairs. The whispers in the ball room had ceased after a few icy glances from Raoul's mother and dancing had soon commenced. The events only moments before were forgotten by most, until a sound was heard over the small orchestra band, a sound like a wounded animal and then a shrill "Christine!" from the Viscomte.
Raouls eyes stung as he remembered that night, it was too much to bear he would not think of what happened he would NOT! Raoul sobbed dryly alone closing his eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling.
When the news came that Christine had lost the child when she had fallen down the marble staircase Christine was devastated and instead of being lavished with sympathy and affection from the family, they did not come near.
"I do not want to interfere in such a sensitive issue perhaps she will feel better without people constantly asking it is only a reminder of what happened, I only wish to spare her the pain of reliving the ordeal." The Comptess had retorted when confronted by her son.
The explanation from Raouls mother had sufficed enough, he found her explanation acceptable although to him it still felt wrong. He spent most of his time with Christine he wept while she remained numb he waited for the realisation to sink itself into Christine, but it never came instead she became distant from him wishing her own company. Raoul saw this as his wife's way of dealing with her loss and dared not push her heout of what he saw as her constant period of mourning had heard too many stories of woman who threw themselves to their death after the loss of an infant. He used to hear her singing to the infant when she thought she was alone, soft, haunting melodies he had never heard before but he had seen from afar her spread her hands across her stomach and seem to sing her unborn child to sleep.
So he was forced to let her deal with things in her way as he did in his and he felt empty and so, so unbearably guilty…
Raoul had been walking to the drawing room when he heard the all to familiar whispers of his sisters from within the room with their mother he stopped and decided to listen before entering although he didn't know why he chose to do so. And what he heard from within the room caused all anger all guilt all emotion he had felt over the past six months explode from his person.
"Mother you cannot seriously think that it was not an accident?" Émile asked the Comptess, her voice held disbelief but a sly tone of excitement was evident.
"Probably a trick she learnt from her days dancing at the opera." The Comptess stated simply.
Joceline looked up at her mother, she could see the Comptess was enjoying this conversation because it slated her new sister. She felt she should say something in defence of Christine but before she could even think what Raoul burst through the doors of the drawing room, she only had to see the look on her brothers face to know he had heard the conversation and she mentally prepared herself for the onslaught that would come. Raoul charged towards his mother, inside his stomach was in knots with the pain at how his family had spoken of Christine's loss but the anger washed over him like a red mist.
"You are nothing, but a sad old woman who has passed her prime taking pleasure in undermining and harming those around you. I should have damn well eloped and I would have in a heartbeat had I known this was to be what I would be brining my wife into, a nest of vipers! She is a De Chagney now, you reject your own kind? You cut off your nose to spite your face mother and I assure you the look does not become you. Christine has been to hell and back with no one, you treat her like a leper. Now hear me and take heed for this is my first and final warning, stop this ill treatment of my wife or I will take every franc father left me and leave here with Christine and that shall be the last you see or hear of me. The death of father makes you grow old and bitter, remember it is he who is dead, not you!"
The Comptess had remained silent shock reeling through her body as the words of her son sank in knowing he had heard, her pride had been mortally wounded and she knew it. Although knowing she would have to obey her sons wishes she could not help but bite back to regain some of her shredded pride.
"Very well, but Raoul if it was not her fault, what did happen that night?" Raoul did not turn to listen but he had stopped and after her final words he turned to give her a last burning look and marched away throwing the doors shut. Émile jumped as the door crashed shut and a smile played on the Comptess's lips knowing she had touched a nerve.
Raoul had sobbed till he was exhausted he had almost made himself sick in doing so and had fallen asleep that way, when he awoke Christine did not lie beside him. He knew she would not have been there but she would be still in the library and that she would not have moved from there, and that she would most likely not have slept at all. He longed for her to be as she were for everything to be as it were but he knew that was not possible so much had changed she had changed so much everything had changed so much.
