Chapter 5

"Christine? What is it, child?" Madame Giry asked. Christine had been subdued all day; Fleur wondered if she regretted her decision. Erik had known he was in love with Christine for more than a year, although it was longer if the truth were told. But for Christine this was sudden, to go from knowing him as her teacher and guardian to being her fiancée. Fleur remembered her own Alphonse. He was handsome, five years her senior, and they had talked for hours before they ever kissed. Erik was brilliant and thoughtful--some of their discussions lasted days--but had he done that with Christine over the years? Most likely not. Christine was entering unknown territory, and it frightened her.

Christine looked at the woman who had taken a grieving orphan and given her a home, a place in the world, and the love she missed from her own mother, dying at her birth. She hesitated, knowing how close Madame Giry and her Angel were, wishing she did not feel as she did now. It felt like betrayal. "Nothing," she replied to the question, smiling wanly.

Fleur was not put off that easily. "Come, my dear, you have something that preys on your mind. What is it?" she leaned over to squeeze Christine's hand, inquiring further.

Bringing Christine to an alcove where no one, not even Erik could overhear, she asked her again. "We are alone here, child, you can speak what is in your heart. It is Erik,yes? You are unsure of him?"

Christine blanched at that, Madame Giry reading her mind. She nervously wrung her hands. "Madame, I know who he is, I know how you rescued him. I…can't," she turned away, distressed. She could not say what she felt without being both disloyal to her Angel and ungrateful to Madame Giry.

Fleur followed Christine the few steps she had taken away from the alcove. "Then I will guess. You do not know if you can marry someone who lives in the shadows, whose face can never be public?"

"That's not what disturbs me," she answered, putting on a brave front. "I know he loves me, and I love him. He's taken care of me all this time, taught me, made me a star." She put her face in her hands, trying to hide the thing she dared not say. Part of her wanted Madame to let her alone, and part of her badly wanted to say what her growing fears were.

Fleur knew better. "Child, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Marriage is serious business, I know only too well. To have doubts is only natural." She put a hand on the young woman's shoulders. "Better to know now what you have agreed to, when there is still time, than to fear what you do not know." She lowered her voice and spoke directly into Christine's ear. "He is not here right now, and he could not hear us even if he was. No one can. Please, my dear, say what is in your heart and perhaps I can help."

Shamefaced, Christine whispered, "His temper…he frightens me, sometimes." Reluctantly she told Fleur about his shoving her to the ground, his viciousness in denying her further contact with Raoul.

"Ah, of course. I see." And indeed she did. "It is true he has a quick temper, and with good reason," she said, her face clouding over. "Where I found him…it was horrible. I sometimes do not know how he can stay here at all, even in the shadows." She looked Christine directly in the eye. "But as fast as his anger comes, it also goes. I myself have made him angry many times, sometimes we are shouting at each other, yet he has never raised a hand to me." She paused a moment. "The thing that angers him most is injustice. You know I am Ballet Mistress because of him, yes?"

Christine did not, puzzlement on her features. "How could that be?" she asked.

Madame Giry looked around once more to make sure they were alone. No one showed signs of venturing in their direction down the hallway. "When Monsieur LeFevre first began managing the House, he was not like he is now. Everything was profit, how much we could bring in. He cared nothing for art, for beauty. Those of us who worked here were employees, nothing more, and if we did not do as he commanded, there were hundreds of people waiting to fill our places. We were told this time and again."

She looked at Christine to insure she understood the harshness of that contempt for the artistic drive. "There came a time when the stage floor had to be replaced. It was very old; it had become warped in several places. We all knew it was past time to do it, but of course it was expensive, and would require shutting down the House for several weeks. LeFevre said he would do it during the off season, but always found an excuse not to." She stopped, her eyes misting over. "One day, during rehearsal, one of the boards came loose, and Alphonse and I were thrown into the orchestra pit." She sighed. "I was lucky. I landed on a chair that collapsed under me, only breaking my ankle. Alphonse…he was not so lucky. He fell onto a music stand, and it took him directly across the throat…I only had a few moments with him before he died. He was my life…" her voice broke as her shoulders shook, crying silently.

Christine put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she told her erstwhile mother. She had never heard the story of Alphonse's death; the subject was quickly changed whenever Meg or Madame Giry were present.

Fleur brought out her handkerchief, dabbing at her carefully painted eyes. Christine had never seen her looking less than elegant, and never crying despite the years she had lived here.

Madame Giry took several deep breaths, composing herself. "My ankle did not heal well; I could no longer dance well enough to be a ballerina. Alphonse was gone, and I would have to leave the House. A crippled dancer was something LeFevre had no use for, even though it was his fault all of this happened." She looked at Christine. "He had even less use for a crippled dancer with a young girl to support." Her bitterness was understandable, but still took Christine aback. "But as Ballet Mistress I could stay here, live well, provide for Meg…and Erik would not have to decide whether to stay here or go with us. He arranged for me to be appointed Ballet Mistress soon after I knew I could no longer dance."

"How?" Christine was calmer now, intrigued at the way her Angel had taken matters into his own hands to fight back against such callousness.

"He said if LeFevre had not listened before, he would listen now. He started leaving messages in the House, threatening LeFevre with sabotage if he did not replace the floor at once and make me Ballet Mistress. He said he was the Opera Ghost, and destroyed some of the scenery to prove he was serious." She steeled herself, her back straight as she defended his actions. "The scenery took time to replace, and so the House had to be closed after all. When LeFevre tried to repair only the bad spots in the stage, the next day not only all of the scenery, but the fastenings for it had been removed and thrown onto the stage. The stage floor was itself so damaged there was no choice but to replace the entire thing."

"LeFevre came to me that day, said that Alphonse would have wanted me to stay on in the House, and so he was making me Ballet Mistress. He also ordered the entire floor replaced, starting that very day. I suspect Erik did something more, something he has not told me; LeFevre was very pale when he informed me of his decision." Her face changed as she spoke of this; she did not like to be in the dark. "That was when Erik began demanding money. Up until then he lived down below the House, yes, but once he decided to exact revenge on LeFevre he could afford to live well, and to bring his artistic dreams to life."

She turned to Christine, gauging her reaction. She was trying to take it all in, stunned.

"He does many things, you know," Fleur said, glowing with pride in his accomplishments. "You see the design for the bridge in the new opera, the scene where the soprano sleepwalks? His. The music for the intermission? His. The mechanism for moving three pieces of heavy scenery at once? All his. He is architect, designer, composer...magician. A genius."

Fleur put her hands on Christine's shoulders, her eyes warm. "God wronged you in depriving you of both mother and father, so of course Erik took you into his heart before he even saw you. He loves you, my dear, as do I. I think you need not fear him."