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Chapter 3 Finalities
Christine went to her closet to get dressed early the next morning and frowned at her clothing. There was nothing in her closet that would be suitable for wearing back to the Opera house. She knew that if she chose to wear any of the dresses that Raoul bought for her, Erik would think she had changed, (not to mention that she found the dresses much to fancy for her own liking). She searched for a dress that Raoul's servants had not managed to throw away. Most of her dresses had been burned in the fire, and the few that had been saved were considered to be unfit for the life of a Vicomte and his fiancé. Much to her dismay, she found nothing in her closet that she could wear to see her angel, unless she wore the simple black dress she usually wore to her father's gravesite. That dress would have to do. It was simple, yet not so simple that it made her look like a young starved orphan like she once looked. She knew she looked pretty in the dress, but not overly done.
She put the few dresses that she could stand to wear in a bag, along with her underclothes, corsets, stockings and nightgowns. The dresses that were overdone with lace and satin and rhinestones she left in the closet for Raoul's next lady friend, for he was bound to have another woman he would marry. She looked down at herself, and saw the shining engagement ring that Raoul had given her. She sighed and remembered that she would soon (hopefully) have a different ring on her finger, one which she knew she cared far more about. She took off the ring, and left it on the vanity next to the silver-plated brush and comb set. She knew that Raoul had given her everything she could possibly want, but he gave her none of the attention she needed. So in ways, he gave her everything and nothing.
She then looked into the long floor length mirror that was hanging on her wall and smiled, remembering how her angel had first visited her in the flesh. He had come through the mirror. She pressed upon the cool glass of this mirror, wishing it would become the gateway to her beloved, though knowing that the true mirror was hundreds of miles away from here. She finished getting dressed and packed, and set off into the living room, where she knew Raoul would be waiting. He would undoubtedly try to make her stay with him, but her mind was set, she was leaving this morning, and she was very glad to be out of this horrid life of a Vicomtess.
She turned and took one last glance into the room, and saw a red rose. She gasped and ran to the rose and saw that it was freshly cut. Why had she not noticed it before? She ran to the window with hope of seeing a cape or a mask, or even Caesar, the horse that she rode upon the first night that she and her angel met in the flesh. Seeing none of the signs of the man she loved, she turned back to the rose, and saw that it had no black silk ribbon tied around it, so it could not be from him. Then next to her foot, she saw a paper, which read, "Christine, I hope this rose, the colour of passion, can remind you of how much I love you. And I hope you can change your mind and not go to the monster. All my love, Raoul." She grew angry with him, and put the paper on the nightstand and then destroyed the rose that he had dared to give her. How dare he choose a red rose to ask for her back? He knew that only one man had ever given her a red rose, and he had dared to mock him?
She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, only pausing to grab her red cloak. She walked down the elaborate staircase and into the living room. She saw Raoul, and merely nodded at him. He looked up at her with hope in his eyes, but then looked back down sadly when he saw that she had her cloak and her bag already packed. Her eyes softened as she saw him so sad. She walked over to him, knelt down and said, "Raoul, I know this is hurting you, but I know that even if I were to marry you, I would never be faithful. Not in the physical sense, for I would never betray my vows and cheat on you, but in the mental state, I would be with no other man but Erik. You must understand that. I love him so very much, and if you love me as you say you do, then you will let me go to him and not try to make me stay here with you, for you know that I would be unhappy here."
He looked at her and had to blink back the tears that were threatening to splash upon his cheeks. He sighed and whispered, "Go, your carriage is waiting for you. Go now and leave me, but promise me that you will never forget me. For Christine, I will always love you; no other woman will hold a place in my heart as you have. Promise me that you will never forget me." Christine looked into his eyes and said, "I will never forget you, for you are a part of my life that will always remain with me. I do love you, but only as a sister would love her brother." Christine stood and went to pick her bag back up and leave, but Raoul stood and took her into an embrace. She froze and then held him close to her, and then pulled away. He nodded at her and picked up her bag and walked her to the carriage. He helped her into the carriage, then turned away and walked back to his home, without a backward glance.
She sat back in the carriage, joyful for the first time in weeks. She knew that she would be finally going back to her beloved angel. She thought back to all the times she had shunned him, and instantly regretted them. She looked at the driver and asked him if he would drive as fast as possible, because she was very eager to get to the Paris Opera house. She knew that the reconstruction of the famous building was nearly finished, because the fire had not completely destroyed the building. An article had been in the newspaper on Monday that the fire had only damaged the seats in the Opera house, did not even touch the boxes or the stage, and had only destroyed the glass outside because of the heat. Her home would be back to how it was soon.
The article had also stated that Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre would be leaving the opera house once they found new managers. Christine laughed at this, for she knew that Andre and Firmin knew nothing of the opera, and that Erik had frightened them. Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyar would remain the dance instructor and the Maestro. She hoped that they would take her back after all the trouble that had been caused because of her. She had also noticed that the article held no mention whatsoever of the infamous "opera ghost" and for that she was grateful, for Erik would surly have been hunted if they had spoken of him.
She looked out of the carriage window, and saw that they were on the far end of the de Chagny estate. Christine sighed and leaned her head against the smooth leather seat and drifted off to sleep. For the first time in weeks, her sleep was not tormented by dreams of locked doors, long tunnels and the last night of her parting with Erik. She knew that her dreams had to do with her feeling of being locked on the inside of her, and the feelings that she had known all along, but had refused to admit it, the fact that she loved Erik. Her sleep today was filled with dreams of clear skies and angelic voices.
In what felt like five minutes time, Christine's coach driver woke her up to tell her that they were close to the Opera house. She sat up eagerly and looked outside. She saw the whole of Paris gleaming at her, as if to say how happy the city itself was to have her back. She looked around happily knowing every curve of the streets, every shop window, and every turn of the carriage wheel told her that she was getting closer to her home. She closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scents of her home. She felt like a little girl again, a little girl who was so thrilled to be going home. She knew she was being foolish, it wasn't like she hadn't been her for a long time, but to her, it felt like a lifetime ago. She had last seen these roads and shops less than a week ago, so of course she would know every place.
At last, she looked up and in the near distance she saw the gleaming Paris Opera house. It looked like it was beckoning her to come closer. She saw the opera house, and instantly felt joy, but along with that joy came the feeling of dread. She knew she had betrayed Erik, and knew he would be angry with her for leaving him, but it had only been a week, so perhaps he would be glad to see her. She knew she was hoping for too much, for she had seen Erik's anger before, and knew that it took a lot to make him forget his anger. Though she knew all this, she held onto the hope that Erik would not be overly angry with her.
When the carriage pulled to the front of the Opera house, Christine looked up at it with a sense of foreboding, and awe. She was reminded of the first time she had stepped into the Opera house, for she had felt the same feelings. This time however she felt those feelings multiplied, for she was much older than she was when she first came to live and train here. She was seven years old when her father had passed away, and she was nineteen years old now. She had been with the opera for more than half her life. When she got out of her coach she took her bag and sent the driver away, back to Raoul's home. She took a deep and shaking breath and started up the elegant stairs that led to the front doors of the opera house. She took hold of the heavy golden door handle and pulled it open, un-noticed by anyone. At least she thought she was un-noticed, but truly a pair of glowing green eyes that held the pain of the world was watching her. These eyes had been watching her since her carriage was blocks away from the opera house.
