'Mademoiselle Giry', Emma came closer and addressed her in an amicable way. 'Just answer to our questions and everything will go smoothly. You'll get out of here safe and sound'.
She did not believe that. Absolutely nothing those people might say was to be trusted in from then on. She would have to face the situation, answer and pray God that, in the end, they'd let her go.
She gave a short bow in assent and waited for the rest of the criminals to begin the interrogation.
'It's come to our notice that you were friends with Christine de Changy…or Daaé, for that was apparently her maiden name…', Édmond was trying to calm down her visible anxiety with his natural courtesy.
She eyed him with timid blue eyes and nodded.
'Good, good…', he changed of strategy very soon and his questioning became cleverer. He waited patiently each and every one of her replies. 'And what was the last thing you knew of her?'.
A knot formed in her throat. Should she say the truth? She felt that, somehow, she would be betraying her friend's trust if she did so. She'd give an answer, yes, but she'd only revealed part of what she really knew.
'The last news I had from her',she swallowed, 'were that she was a married woman and lived peacefully. I did not know anymore about Christine until I read the announcement of the Viscount's death. From then on, she's been missing. I know nothing of her whereabouts'.
'But you have been best friends for a long time, at least that's what she clearly stated in the letter that came into our hands'.
The letter. Her mother had told her about the two people that had visited her so unexpectedly. But it looked like everyone knew about the contents of Christine's desperate missive and echoes them. She feared for Christine's life but she would not make it easier for those criminals since they were all so interested in getting their hands on her.
'Yes'. A strength she had not possessed a few minutes before had strangely taken over her. 'In fact, she has always been and still is my best friend. We lived together for years in the Opéra Populaire but because of…'. She froze. No. Don't say it. Don't mention what happened or the people involved. 'Because of certain circumstances and her engagement to the Viscount, she decided to leave us and move to a village in the outskirts of Paris. I visited her once in her new home but after that evening I've not received further news from her, Monsieur'.
Édmond smiled. Little by little he was getting what he really wanted. 'I see… Look, the disappearance of a Viscountess is not at all that easy and there are many people worried about her right now. Can't you make an effort and guess where she might have gone?'.
She shook her head. She seemed to have calmed down or at least that was until Jacques rough voice interrupted the silence.
'Édmond, I think it would be best if I spoke with the lady…'.
His heart skipped a beat when his eyes turned to the bed once more. There she was, conscious and sitting bolt upright. She seemed to have noticed that, shamefully, she was wearing nothing but her corset and modesty had made her pull the sheets up to her chin. However, her eyes were fixed in his as they both tried hard to assimilate that they were again in front of each other.
The expression Angie saw in his eyes made her feel the most painful pang she had experienced in her life. In all the time they had been together, never once, not even in their most intimate moments, he had looked at her in the way he was looking at that girl. She felt as if an iron fist was oppressing her chest to the point that breathing seemed impossible to her. She bowed her head when tears began to form under her eyelids.
Erik finally came to his senses and closer to her. What he really wanted was to cradle her into his arms and confess the hell he had gone through when he had thought that he would loose her forever. But no. Again, the cold side of him won his inner fight.
'Madame…', he gave her a half-hearted smile, hiding his real joy. 'I see you've finally woken up'.
She tried to speak again, doping she had regained her voice, but it was useless. God, everything was looking more and more like her worst nightmare come true. Did he hate her? Had he ended up abhorring her? Her sorrow reflected immediately on her gaze, as her insides screamed out how sorry they were.
'You'd better not force your throat. The cold temperatures might have damaged your vocal chords'. He sat again in his chair.
She just nodded in compliance, despite the hurt brought by his indifference. Christine sent a questioning look towards the small coppery-haired woman.
'Angie…', he called her. She came as soon as she heard him, suppressing her pain. 'She's been helping through all this time. She's my assistant'.
Christine offered her a kind gesture. However, she couldn't correspond in the same way. Assistant? How could he insult her like that? Her suffering continued its rise…
He turned to Angie. 'Dear, would you be so kind so as to prepare a warm bath for our lady guest? She must be still in shock due to the coldness of the water'.
Resigned, she nodded and retired from the bedroom. Once outside, Erik's eyes fixed in Christine's. For a few minutes, their gazes were glued to each other. She could not help it. Her eyes turned glassy under his stare and instinctively, she threw herself into his arms with such desperation that he nearly lost his balance.
At the moment, he did not know what to do or how to react when he felt her arms wrapped up around his neck and the moist trail of her tears as she silently cried.
Jacques came to stand dangerously close to Meg. He pulled her up abruptly.
'Stop playing the idiot with us, do you understand?', his grey eyes riveted in her scared ones. 'And now, tell us, where the devil is Christine de Chagny?'.
She swallowed. Her body was trembling violently. 'I'm telling you', her voice barely raised between her sobs. 'I swear I don't know. Monsieur, please, let me go…'.
Édmond intervened.
'Jacques, the girl is useless to us. I think she is telling the truth. If she had known any valuable information she would have shared it with us by now. We've kept her for too long. Free her…'.
He breathed out sharply and held a hand to his brow, exasperated.
'All right. We don't need her. Emma, Marie, show her the way out'.
Both women carried out his order, taking one of the girl's arms each.
'You'd better not tell anything, little one'.
Meg did not say a word. She started running as the door closed behind her. She wanted to get home as soon as possible. She needed her mother more than ever.
Madame Giry had just got her apartment. She was visibly distressed and was wiping away her tears. She sat down in the armchair of the living-room. She had been searching for her daughter everywhere for two long days, unsuccessfully. She feared the worst. Her daughter had been taken away from her cruelly. She took one of her hands to the space between her eyebrows, exhaustedly. Just when she was about to stand up and continue her private search, the door opened.
Her daughter was back, alive but extremely upset: tired eyes, wet face, shivering body.
'Mother…', the girl rushed into her mother's hug. 'They want to know, they want to know everything'.