In Society

For a short time, Christine's new life in Dover seemed almost idyllic. A few days after settling into their house, she finally sat down and composed two letters, one for Madame Giry and another for Meg. She'd written them a rather hasty note upon arriving, just to let them know that she and Erik had safely reached their destination. Now she was able to fully put all that had happened in the past weeks into words.

To Madame, she relayed many of her fears in this new life, asking for the advice any daughter would ask of a mother. To Meg, Christine finally confessed her pregnancy. She'd not found the courage to tell her before leaving Paris, and Christine knew that Madame would never have betrayed such a secret. It had been silly really, to keep it from Meg, but she'd not wanted her friend to think badly of her, or worry unnecessarily. Yet Christine so wanted them both with her when she grew near her time.

She had not made many friends thus far in Dover, and her tentative friendship with Ann Beaumont had been cut short when the girl and her relatives had moved along to the next town on their holiday excursion. The need for her to socialize with someone other than her husband and housekeeper fairly burned within her.

So when Mr. Crawford unexpectedly called on them in their new home, Christine was grateful for the company. She had met Erik's employer only once, very briefly, when he'd stopped by the inn, but she had immediately liked the man. They sat and chatted awhile about the house, and while Erik remained civil enough, Christine could sense his displeasure. She was puzzled by it, as she knew Erik had no ill feelings toward Mr. Crawford. She could only guess that he was uncomfortable at having his home invaded without his consent.

Christine soon came to know, however, that her husband's uneasiness stemmed from something else entirely.

"I am hoping, Mrs. Rousseau, that I might finally be able to convince you to accept an invitation to supper. I understand that you have been somewhat ill recently, but seeing you now, I daresay you seem in excellent health. Do you think you might be up for an outing?"

Christine sat gaping at Mr. Crawford, her eyes drifting over to Erik in mild confusion. She realized at once that he was on the razor's edge of his temper. And suddenly, she was, as well. She had not been recently ill, other than the normal occasional symptoms of her pregnancy, and she resented being used as an excuse for Erik to reject this man's kind invitation. The next words out of her mouth were certain to displease him even more, but she refused to cater to Erik's need for solitude when she was in such need of escaping it.

"I do believe I feel most able to accept your kind invitation, Monsieur Crawford."

Crawford smiled happily, "Excellent. My wife and daughter are most eager to meet you both. Would tomorrow evening be suitable?"

Erik leaned forward to refuse, "I don't…"

"Tomorrow would be perfect, Monsieur." Christine smoothly cut her husband off. She could sense his anger, and tried her best to ignore it. After a few more pleasant words with Mr. Crawford out, Christine politely saw him to the door.

The moment the older gentleman was gone, Erik was grabbing her hand and dragging her roughly into the parlor, closing the door behind them so that Katie would not interrupt. "What do you think you are doing, Christine? Why did you accept his invitation without even asking me?"

She drew a breath, gently rubbing her wrist where Erik had gripped her. "Apparently you have refused him without asking me."

He growled at her, "I have my reasons for that!"

"Enlighten me."

Erik took several steps toward her, his eyes blazing with anger, and Christine stepped back instinctively, her back bumping up against the wall. He stopped, shaking his head, "Do you know what it is like for me, Christine? To walk amongst the crowds and see every face full of distrust? Full of fear? Do you know what it takes for me to keep from showing them what fear truly is? To behave myself as a respectable man…for you? Must I be forced to perform to strangers for your entertainment?"

Christine brushed at her tears, meeting Erik's fiery gaze evenly. "Monsieur Crawford is not a stranger, and he does not look at you in pity or in fear."

He scoffed, "I doubt his family will be as accepting, and even if they are, I have no desire to scrape and bow to them!"

"And what of my desire, Erik? Or am I to stay shut up in this house with no friends for the rest of my days?"

Erik recoiled, his face going slack, "You are not a prisoner here."

"Nor are you! Yet you would deny us both the chance to truly have a life here…to live as everyone else does."

He laughed without humor, "We will never live as everyone else does. Yet you seem determined to play these little games of make-believe regardless of my feelings." Erik moved to the door, gripping the knob tightly. "You will have your damned outing, Christine!" He threw the door open. "But do not ever think to force my hand again." He stormed out of the parlor, leaving Christine in tears. A moment later, the door of the music room slammed shut and the angry chords of the piano filled the air.

xXx

Erik had not joined his wife in their bed that night, nor had he seen her in the morning before disappearing into town. He kept himself in check in his dealings with Crawford, but his mind kept returning to the previous evening.

You are truly a bastard, Erik.

He'd lost his temper with her again, and made her suffer for the sins that were his own. He'd refused Crawford's invitations repeatedly and never once mentioned them to Christine. He had simply not wanted to have to answer the questions he'd known would come in such a circumstance. At the inn, it had been easy enough to disappear into their room and simply ignore those around him while Christine socialized with the other guests. She'd been happy enough to have the company and the distraction of a few nearby shops.

Now his wife was removed from that daily bustle, and he had only to face Mr. Crawford, a few engineers and an occasional contractor. Even then, Erik's time in the office was limited. Most of his work…the calculations and plans…could be done from his home, and it suited him. Crawford had never asked any questions about Erik's past, and those other fools he was forced to deal with tended to keep their exposure to him very brief.

The truth of the matter was that Erik had never had supper with anyone but Christine. He was not prepared to engage in polite conversation anymore than he was prepared to provide answers about his mask, his marriage, or his past. A lifetime of hiding was difficult to leave behind. Yet Christine had no reason to hide. She longed for companionship, and Erik had been cruel not to allow her the opportunity to make some friends. Especially now that she was growing ever closer to her confinement. She'd want someone who might come to visit her from time to time before Madame Giry was able to leave Paris.

Erik smiled a little to himself, thinking of Antoinette. She would surely rake him over the coals were she here now to see his behavior. Christine had been right. He was denying them their chance to start anew by holding onto the past, but embracing the future proved more difficult than he'd imagined.

xXx

Dinner at the Crawford home was a trial by fire for Erik, and Christine was painfully aware of it. He'd made a rather insincere apology upon arriving home, and promised to try his best at supper. Christine had forgiven him, but had not been able to forget the pain he'd caused her. Not because he had lost his temper once again, nor even for the hurtful words he'd flung at her, but because he had kept himself locked away from her all night and left in the morning without a word. She had spent the entire day secretly terrified that he would not be coming back.

The tension between them had been a living, breathing thing, even before they had arrived at the Crawford's fine manor. Mr. Crawford was perfectly amiable, and his wife, Sarah, was a lovely woman. She seemed bit younger than her husband, probably close to Madame Giry's age. Indeed, she reminded Christine a great deal of her foster mother. They had the same knowing sparkle in their eyes, giving one the impression of keen intelligence. The Crawford's daughter, Victoria, was only a year older than Christine with her father's hazel eyes, and the red-gold hair of her mother. She seemed a little shy, but there was nothing but kindness in her gaze when she looked upon Erik.

Perhaps Mr. Crawford had warned his family beforehand, or perhaps they simply did not care at all about the mask. Had it been just the five of them for supper, the evening might be perfectly enjoyable. Unfortunately, Victoria had a young suitor named Edward Markham who was brash and somewhat unthinking. His dark hair was combed impeccably back and his gray eyes fastened immediately onto Erik's mask. The first words out of his mouth set the tone for the evening.

"A mask, eh? What happened?"

In the middle of a polite handshake, Erik's fist tightened around the boy's fingers until Markham was visibly flinching. Christine laid her own hand over her husband's forearm until Erik released his grip.

Crawford frowned at the young man, "Really, Edward…sometimes I wonder at your manners. I am very sorry, Erik. Edward tends to speak before he thinks."

Erik merely nodded, still glaring at the boy. Yet the question had been posed, and it hung out there, clearly sparking the curiosity of all in the room. Gritting his teeth, he chose to give them the story Christine had told in Calais. It would not do to give them any means of connecting him to the Phantom of the Opera, should the story ever find its way to England. "An injury in service of France. A…burn from a misfired rifle."

The Crawford ladies both shuddered slightly, Mr. Crawford nodded, but the damnable boy pressed on again. "Must have been painful."

Christine tugged on her husband's arm, stopping the retort she could feel coming. "Monsieur Markham, please…I simply cannot bear to relive such a terrible time in my husband's life."

Edward blushed then, smiling coyly at Christine. "Forgive me, Madame. I certainly would not wish to cause you any pain."

She smiled gratefully at him, and then turned to see Erik watching her disapprovingly. Her smile fell away at once, realizing that his anger was suddenly laced with jealousy.

Edward Markham did not improve upon better acquaintance, continuing the entire evening to make rather baneful comments at inappropriate times. Christine had caught him staring at her more than once, and her eyes would dart first to Erik, who certainly noticed every look, then to Victoria, who seemed either ignorant of her suitor's actions or accepting of them. Christine found herself wondering what a lovely young woman like Victoria Crawford could possibly see in Edward Markham.

He is such a…fop.

Oh, lord…did I really just think that?

After supper, Crawford bid Erik to step outside on the veranda with him whilst he enjoyed a cigar, and Edward had dutifully gone along. Christine caught the look of utter contempt on Erik's face, and he turned back to her with a raised brow as if to ask if she was happy he was being put through this for her sake. She offered him a crooked smile and mouthed the words I'm sorry.

Yet she genuinely enjoyed the moments that followed in the company of Sarah and Victoria Crawford. They sat to have coffee, and Sarah smiled warmly at Christine. "You may think me rather forward, my dear, and please feel free to tell me if I am overstepping my bounds, but I simply must ask if you are expecting."

Christine caught her breath, her eyes dropping down briefly. Of course she'd known her pregnancy was beginning to show, but she'd not thought it to be so very obvious yet. She silently cursed Erik for insisting that she forgo her corset. Sighing, she nodded slightly, "Yes, Madame."

Sarah's eyes lit with excitement, "Oh, that is simply wonderful…and you must call me Sarah. Andrew and I had been quite concerned when your husband kept turning down our invitations due to your health, but seeing you tonight…well, I had my suspicions." Christine forced her smile to stay in place at the mention of Erik's lie. "Tell me, have you any family that will come to stay with you during your confinement?"

Christine glanced briefly toward the veranda doors, wondering how much she should say. There really was no reason not to tell the truth in this instance. "I have no family left, but I have a foster mother and foster sister whom I hope will be able to come. "

Sarah nodded, "Good, good. Of course, you may count on me for anything you need in the meantime. Victoria, as well."

Victoria smiled shyly and nodded, "Yes, Christine. I would be most happy to come and visit with you often."

The conversation proceeded on, and Christine could almost imagine she was sitting with Meg and Madame again, although Victoria Crawford was quite the opposite in personality from her dear Meg. When the men came back in from the veranda, Christine could see that Erik had reached his limit. At least Edward Markham was still breathing. She reached out to take his hand, smiling up to him, "I am afraid I am feeling rather tired, Erik."

She watched his rigid posture sag in relief, "Of course, my dear." He turned to Mr. Crawford. "If you will excuse us, I really must escort my wife home. It has been a…pleasant evening."

As the carriage made its way towards their house, Christine settled herself close to Erik, looping her arm through his and leaning against him. "I am sorry, Erik. I know tonight was uncomfortable for you."

He sighed heavily, "Do you approve of the ladies, mon ange?"

Her lips curled slightly, "I do. They are both quite lovely."

"Then we shall count tonight a success."

Christine closed her eyes and snuggled even closer to her husband. Another step forward. This was progress.

xXx

Edward Markham had expended a great deal of effort to place himself in the good graces of Andrew Crawford. He'd not had the talent to earn a position as an architect, having to settle instead for a job as an accountant. Yet he had possessed the charm and good looks to turn the head of Victoria Crawford. Victoria was sweet and unassuming, shy and terribly unaware of her own beauty. She would make the perfect wife, and perfectly position Edward to one day inherit Crawford's wealth.

The appearance of Erik Rousseau on the scene had, at first, posed only a mild irritation to Edward. Yet seeing Crawford fawn all over the masked man at supper had given Edward some cause for concern. He'd been overlooked and ignored by the man whose blessing he sought, all for the sake of a man who fairly radiated danger. And then there was that mask. Edward had let the explanation of a 'war' injury pass, but there was something tickling around the edge of his memory. A story he'd heard several months before from one of the French sailors at the pub. Of course, Edward had been slightly less than sober at the time, but he recalled something about a masked man and a Parisian opera house. Strange that a masked Frenchman would show up on Crawford's doorstep. If he could only hear that story again without the haze of alcohol clouding his mind…

A/N: A little trouble may be on the horizon.

A brief note about the date--while the movie chose 1870 to set the events of the story, I choose to ignore that due to the fact that Paris was under siege at the time and wouldn't have been worried about the Phantom at all. The book was set later, 1880s, and I prefer to think of the story happening closer to that time. So Erik's 'injury' in the servie of France could have done well as an explanation.