Author's note: We're drawing to a close on this little story, probably only a few chapters left to go. This one is a bit short, only because the next will be rather long and it made sense to break it up this way. Expect the next very soon, because I'm on a roll.
No, I don't own them. Oh, if I did...
From the diary of Erik
Christine is pregnant! I can't say as I'm surprised, but it certainly does throw things for a loop as far as her career is concerned. What concerns me most is the fact that she doesn't appear to know, and if she does, she is refusing to tell me. I'm not sure which is worse. I know she didn't have a mother, but surely someone told her what signs to expect. Twice this week she's run from the breakfast table and returned with no explanation, but I have heard her being sick in the bath. The poor woman is coming home looking more and more drained from rehearsal every day, and I, who have never been at a loss for words at any point in my life, have no idea how to approach the subject!
She was in the ballet! Those girls never did anything but gossip about such things- I should know, the acoustics in those rooms were really something!
If she knows and is afraid to tell me, that's twice as upsetting.
And then again, I can see why she is afraid. If this were a normal marriage, a normal household, this news would be joyously given and equally received. But things have never been normal, I can't pretend they are now.
I should have been more careful!
The idea that a child should be cursed with my face is more than I can bear.
I am not a young man. Christine has given me new life but the fact remains that within a few short years I will be almost sixty. Should something happen to me, the burden of raising the baby would fall entirely on Christine, and I have my doubts if she would be up to the challenge.
And yet, she was able to love me.
Either way, it's entirely too late to change things now!
After tonight's performance, I will have to speak with her. Whether she's ignorant of these facts or has been hiding things from me, one of us is going to wind up with quite the surprise!
From the diary of Christine
I could kill him! I have no idea how to bring this little bit of news up, but I can't believe it. It's so alarming that I hate to even write it, but the facts are there, plain as the nose on my face.
It seems a certain opera ghost could not remain in Paris! The signs are there, Carlotta might be quite stupid or half insane, but I've lived with this man long enough, loved him long enough to know his signature when I see it. Sparks from under the stage! Swinging doors on her dressing room, whispers as she walks, whatever the order of the day, she's been most unpleasant to be around these past six months!
I wondered why he hasn't seemed to have gotten as much done with his music as he used to.
I don't think he understands that if she ever connects these events with my presence, we will be forced to run again.
Then again, perhaps I am blaming him for too much…I thought he was poisoning her through her tea, but as I seem to have caught the same stomach bug that has plagued her, I can hardly address any blame there. Between her insane ramblings and both of us throwing up at the most random of times, I daresay the management is ready to sack us both!
I know he loves me, but really, couldn't he just send flowers? I have no idea how to talk to him about this, especially since we've worked so hard to put it all behind us.
Tonight, I'm going to have to talk to him, once and for all.
Putting the final adjustments on his dress suit, Erik set off for the opera, careful as always to leave early enough to arrive without fanfare and assure a seat carefully out of sight.
As she put on her makeup, Christine paused for a moment, catching her breath and studying her face in the mirror, a face that seemed entirely different from the one that had stared back at her in Paris. For a moment, she almost expected to her a voice from behind the mirror, but, in the obvious silence that met her gaze, she finished preparing for the opera.
Grinning like a minx, Carlotta studied the piece of paper she had been saving ever since she left Paris.
And, utterly confused but entirely curious from the letter he had received, Raoul stepped from his cab and registered in his hotel before heading to the theatre.