While he was heading to the bureau, his mind would not stop turning all his thoughts to her and the fact that they had met again. Once more all his schemes were broken. Just when he had begun getting out of the long shadow of her memory, when he had started thinking that perhaps a change and forgetting were the best option…
Now, more than ever, he knew that that was wrong, that he had been living the lies he had forged for himself, to ease his own pain. He knew it from the moment he saw her on the lake shore, when he spilt all those tears for her. But it was the moment when he saw her awake in front of him what really opened his eyes: her supplicant eyes, her rapid breathing and…he could swear that her whole face had lightened as soon as she saw him.
Of course, that had been an expression of relief, for she knew that she would be safe there. Always looking for the best shelter she could find… It was the same old story, even though that hug had meant exactly the opposite. He had been able to feel the strength of her embrace and her silent tears sliding down the collar of his shirt. No. He would not put his hopes so high again. Yes, she surely had lots of things to tell him but the water had taken away her voice and, sincerely, that made it easier to keep the distances, which was best at the moment. The further they were from each other, the lesser occasions they met, the better.
With determined steps, he rang the bureau's bell. He had left Angie in charge of Christine's necessities, and things would remain like that for the time being.
The bags she carried barely fitted in her arms. She had always had errands to run but never like that day. She came out of the store, as best as she could, but her full hands nearly made her lose her balance…
Suddenly she felt a friendly hand reaching for one of the bags that were about to fall noisily to the floor.
'It seems that this is not our best day, hm?', Édmond was looking at her with an affable expression.
'No', she smiled. 'It is not, definitely…', she took the bag again. 'Thanks, monsieur'.
He laughed. 'After all the times we've met lately, I think it'd better to introduce to each other, don't you think?', Édmond held out his hand.
She looked at him again and offered her hand too, timidly. 'Angeline…'.
He took her hand for a moment, releasing it after a few seconds. When he noticed that one of her bags was about to fall again, he reached it and grasped it firmly. When she tried to object, he stopped her by moving away her outstretched hand.
'Please, let me help you. Oh, you don't mind if I skip the formalities, do you?'. She gave a short nod. 'Fantastic…'. He continued after a brief pause. 'You have a very beautiful name. I'm glad that I can refer to the woman I've crossed paths with so many times with a name and an identity'.
She laughed slightly. 'So do I, Édmond', she looked around, nervously. 'I must get back. I hope we'll meet again soon…'.
She was already leaving when she heard him speak. 'It's been a pleasure speaking to you. And, if you don't mind, I'd be delighted to invite you to have breakfast with me tomorrow'.
She assented and headed home. Their conversation had been quite pleasant, strangely so that she felt as if…
As if she had been talking to a close relative or a family friend.
After an hour she abandoned the bath, wrapping a towel around her form. It had been so long since the last time she had felt so good that time had slipped away.
She couldn't believe her eyes when she came into the room she had been staying for the long time she had been unconscious. On top of the bed there was a fine beige nightgown, simple in spite of the discreet brocades and lace that decorated its neckline. Next to the nightgown there was also a matching robe and three dresses extended over the duvet. One of them was blue, with a nice white stripe sewn all the way down the ties that adjusted the bodice. The second dress was salmon pink, a bit plainer than the first one but with the same air of elegance. The last dress was black, gravely sober.
It had been his idea, she had no doubt of that. He had always liked going ahead of events, and he knew very well that she had not carried more clothes with her than her ruined dress. He was so attentive with her…and she had never realized it until perhaps now, when it was too late. Anyway, that gesture on his part suggested that, at least, he still wanted to look after her. She smiled to herself. She'd let him know how much she appreciated it the next time he decided to check on her.
'Did you enjoy your bath, Christine?'.
She turned and found Angie waiting at her door, a small polite smile drawn in her lips. Christine nodded and the other girl retired again so that she could get changed in private.
He entered his apartment. In spite of the fact that he'd possibly find out all the information he needed very soon, he was feeling terrible crossed. With a sigh, he sat down in an armchair, analyzing once more which his priorities were…
Any other person in his place would have shot the young Viscountess without second thoughts, instead of providing accommodation for her.
But no, his real intentions did not include killing her… Through all the time he had had her in his home, he had learnt to feel sorry for her sorrow and the terrible situation she was involved in. A young girl, a chorus girl who had become France's most gifted voice overnight and, all of a sudden, had found herself trapped in a world that was too large for her. Surrounded of luxuries, rich people and… he could imagine the De Chagny's reaction when Raoul visited them arm in arm with his bride-to-be. How horrible and disgraceful for them not having a damsel of noble lineage in the family! Poor girl, for all the scorn and murderous looks she must have endured… and now she was probably lost in God only knows where.
He stood up and a strange kind of anger started to bubble up within him, without knowing the reason why. He helped himself a glass of brandy. When he sat down again, his blue eyes opened wide in surprise.
It could not be…
Was he beginning to harbour feelings for her?
Impossible.
He sipped his brandy and put the glass on the wooden table with a loud bump.
She was already going through the entrance door of the hostel, when she found a familiar silhouette in front of her.
'Erik…'.
He half-smiled. 'I'm glad to see you again, Angeline. Did you do what I asked you to? I'm really sorry that we have barely talked to each other lately… I reckon our new guest is taking too much time from both of us'.
And she is taking you away from me too. That was what her mind wanted to scream at the moment.
'I know…', her tone sounded cold even to her, though it had not been her intention. 'Yes, everything's ready. I picked up your orders just an hour ago', they locked gazes for a moment. 'Well, I must go now…'.
Before she left, he held her chin delicately.
'Thank you'
She sighed, letting him be the one to retire his hand. 'Do not mention it'.
With this, her steps carried her away and he headed home.
Christine had taken advantage of her solitude to memorize the place she had been installed in. She peeked in all the rooms. Most of them looked as if they were not used, from the dusty furniture, except for the room right next to hers. It was gently inviting her to come inside.
And so she did but, first, Christine gave a last look to her room, as if she was watching it for the first time. Everything looked clean and perfectly in order. The bed felt extremely comfortable and her new clothes had been taken there by Angie herself. She came out of the room, thinking that she would have all the time to enjoy it.
Another door caught her attention. She opened it. All the objects stored inside were known to her. The music box, her portrait and, for God's sake, he still kept the scores. His great masterpiece, though, had unfortunately been destroyed in the fire, together with his whole world. Before the deep feeling of sadness and nostalgia could take over her, she came out of the room as quickly as she had entered.
Her steps carried her to the living room. Two armchairs, a fireplace, a round table, a desk, which she supposed was Erik's…and a piano. So…he had not abandoned music, she thought as she came near the instrument. She was sitting down in the bench when she noticed that there was a sheet of paper on the little table next to it. She took it and then walked to his desk, to borrow a quill.
She sat down again and began writing.
'Thank you again for making me feel at home from the first day. The dresses and gowns are really beautiful'.
It was very simple but it was all she needed to express her gratitude for such an attentive treatment. Of course it was not all she wanted to tell him. There were lots of things she wished to let him know but she preferred to tell him so with her own voice and not through words written in cold paper. Two tears escaped her eyes as she left the paper, folded in two, on the piano…
What she did not know was that someone had been observing her from a hidden corner of the living room all the time.