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Chapter 2

It took a few moments for Christine to remember her manners; she was stricken by the appearance of this strange boy. The second she remembered them, though, she gave a little "oh!" and curtsied.

"How do you do?" she said softly.

Erik's rigid body tightened further. He offered a curt nod of his head, and seemed unable to say anything except, "Mademoiselle."

She looked to her father, who put a hand between the boy's shoulder blades. "Antoinette!"

"Yes, M. Daaé?" She appeared in the archway. "How-" Her words caught in her throat the moment her eyes landed on Erik. She fixed her spectacles with haste and put a hand to her chest. "Good heavens."

"Antoinette," said Gustave, "this is Erik. I will be housing him for the time being, until we can find a more permanent situation."

"An orphan?" she asked, as though he were not even there.

"It would seem. He claims he has no parents."

Erik's eyes cast down.

"Where did you find him?" asked Antoinette. Her gaze, like Christine's, were affixed to his face. To that strange half-mask.

The boy closed his eyes, squeezing the eyelids, as though he could disappear from this room entirely if he tried.

"It's a rather long story," responded her father with a slight smile, though he patted Erik's shoulder in a slow, gentle motion. "Before I tell it, I think I shall run a bath for myself. Antoinette, please bathe him and dress him in one of my nightshirts and pants. It will be large on him, but-"

"No."

They all looked at Erik, who'd spoken and now looked around at them with wide, wild eyes.

Mme. Valerius looked down her nose at him. "Young man, it is rude to interrupt a gentleman - especially one who has taken you into his house."

His expression opened into mortification, and his thin shoulders turned inward. He glanced at Gustave for a short moment, then found a spot on the floor to stare at. "I...am sorry, sir. It's only - please forgive me. I merely...I meant to say I can run a bath for myself." His voice shriveled as he spoke. "I did not mean to be rude. Really, it was the furthest thing from my intentions. It's only that I would prefer not to show my face to anyone, sir. Please understand-"

"Of course." The tone of Gustave's voice was soothing. "I myself wasn't thinking. Antoinette, have Sophie run a bath for Erik and lay out nightclothes in the spare bedroom, and then get Christine ready for bed. I will tell Cook to prepare something for him to eat before I head up."

When Christine turned to Antoinette, she saw her own thoughts reflected in her governess's pinched expression: what was wrong with this boy's face?

"At once, M. Daaé." Mme. Valerius took her charge's hand in hers. "Come along upstairs, Christine."

"Yes, Antoinette." But her heart screamed in protest. This was the most excitement the townhouse had seen in...well, as long as Christine could remember.

Erik met her eyes just as she was pulled away, up the stairs. But the narrowness of the staircase meant that she could not comfortably both look back and climb, so she was forced to face straight ahead.

"Will I be having a bath too?"

"Not tonight." Antoinette did not meet her gaze. "You can bathe in the morning. Both bathtubs will be occupied this evening."

"Oh."

The rest of the journey to her bedroom was silent, and with every inch forward, her governess's steps became a little harder, her grip a little tighter. The moment she'd entered the room and closed the door behind them, she blew out a harsh breath. "I do not know what your father is thinking." A stiff shake of her head. "Go to the vanity, Christine. I shall be right back to comb out your hair before bed."

"But Sophie-"

"Would normally do it, yes, but you heard your father. She is to run that little urchin a bath. Sit. I will be back."

"Yes, Antoinette."

Christine went to the vanity. She had to admit, she quite liked having her hair brushed. It sent tingling sensations down her spine - so though it involved long minutes of sitting still, it wasn't actually so terrible.

Antoinette entered the room sooner than she expected. Knowing Sophie, there were likely boundless questions frothing from the housemaid's lips. But then, this was Mme. Valerius. Stony-faced Mme. Valerius, who would no doubt cut short unnecessary questioning the moment it emerged.

She had just picked up the hairbrush, when Christine remembered something extremely vital. "Antoinette?"

"Yes, Christine."

"You must help me change out of my day-clothes and into my nightgown first. My hair will be all ruffled if you brush it before I change - and then you'll have to start all over. It's really quite tedious for Sophie when she forgets, so I thought I should mention it."

Antoinette smiled and gave a small chuckle - Christine guessed out of relief, and she let her shoulders drop. She hated seeing Antoinette frustrated or impatient - not really because she felt for the woman, but because it became terribly uncomfortable for Christine herself when her governess was in bad spirits. It usually meant even more vocabulary or cross-stitch practice, in silence, as Antoinette nursed a headache. At worst, it meant a harsh word toward restless, tapping feet or the overuse of "unnecessary speech fillers".

"Of course, Christine." She put down the brush. "Stand. Let's get you changed."

The undressing took longer than normal, but only by a fraction. Sophie was an expert at these things, after all - but Antoinette wasn't unfamiliar with dressing and undressing with speed, though it had been years. Her governess had not helped her change since she was still in napkins, when her duties had fallen more under childcare than on education. Now, as a little lady, she would get used to a servant's hands lacing her up.

Comfortably in her nightgown, she took a seat at the vanity and sat straight, face forward, for Antoinette to brush her curly brown hair.

"Gracious," chuckled Antoinette, struggling with just the first stroke of the brush, "how Sophie manages with all of this hair-"

"She says I'm blessed with beautiful locks."

"And she's right." With effort, the bristles made their way through the curls. "But what an incredible amount of patience she has."

Twenty minutes later, Christine was in bed, and Antoinette was sitting on her side, smoothing out the blankets. A knock sounded at the door.

Christine's governess patted her cheek affectionately, and then went to the door. She opened it to reveal Gustave.

"Mme. Valerius," he said, "may I come in?"

Antoinette made way for her employer. "Yes, M. Daaé. Your daughter is ready for bed."

"Good." He stepped forward, into the room. His hair was again wet, but this time combed and clean. He beamed at Christine, who smiled softly back. "Please excuse me, Antoinette. I must have words with my child."

"At once, M. Daaé." She gave a bow of the head, offered Christine one last look of affection, and then made her way out. She closed the door behind her.

Christine bolted upright. "Papa! Who is that boy?"

He chuckled. "His name is Erik."

"I know! You said. But-" She pulled off the blankets and went to her knees. "But who is he? Why did you bring him here?"

"Hm." Her father sat where Antoinette had just been. He reached into his pocket and took out a small tin. His fingers twisted off the top, until he could reveal the inside: a dozen or so pieces of black licorice candy. "A sweet for my sweet. Don't tell Antoinette."

"I won't." Hiding her glee, she picked up a piece and popped it into her mouth. He closed the tin and placed it back in his pocket. "Thank you, Papa."

Gustave lifted a hand and put it to her cheek, making her slow her chewing. "You are a kind-hearted girl, Christine."

She looked down. "Thank you, Papa."

"Erik has had a troubled life, Christine." He lowered his hand. "And he needs some kindness."

"Where is he from?"

"I told you I went to the carnival the other day."

"Yes. You said it was dirty."

"It was. Erik was there."

"Visiting? Alone? You said he has no parents."

"No, not visiting, my darling. An attraction."

Her eyes went to his again.

"He was in a cage, Christine. His face was bare. I'm sure by now, you've guessed there is something wrong with his face - there is. He has a terrible disfigurement on the side of his face. I would ask that you didn't tell him to show you."

Christine couldn't hide the distress in her expression - so much so that her father stroked a lock of her hair with love. This, she thought, was a horrible story. And all the worse for that fact that it was true.

She swallowed. "I wouldn't be cruel to him if he showed me."

"Still. Leave him his privacy."

Christine nodded. The curious part of her wanted to see it, now even more that she'd been told she couldn't. But she'd be good, and leave it alone. "And you got him out of the cage?"

"I bought him."

"Bought him!"

"From the man who owned him."

She deflated. "Oh, Papa! This sounds dreadful. You simply must go and let me give him a proper welcome. He will have a lovely stay here. I must go and tell him as much."

His eyes twinkled, two loving stars. "In the morning, perhaps."

Again, Christine was incredibly dissatisfied. A plan churned immediately in her head.

"All right, Papa. All right. In the morning." She paused. "Papa?"

"My darling?"

"I'm thirsty. May I have some tea?"

"Licorice dried your mouth?"

Her head nodded with emphatic vigor.

"I will send Sophie up with a cup for you. Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight, Papa. Pleasant dreams."

The tea was very likely cold by now. But she had to wait until she was sure everyone else was asleep. Antoinette, she knew, was sleeping next door to her. She'd checked under her governess's door, and saw that no light escaped from the cracks. Sophie and Cook were on the floor above hers, and would not bother with her antics. But her Papa-

The sound of his violin had only just ceased. She normally didn't mind - it was lovely music, and normally put her straight to sleep. But now it only meant he was wide awake, and that was simply a great inconvenience at the moment.

When at last the violin stopped, and she sneaked out of her room for the tenth time tonight, she pressed an ear to his bedroom door. When the sound of soft snoring came, she grinned. Swift-footed, but silent, she retrieved the cup of tea from her bedside table and went up the hall to the guest bedroom. Soft as she could, she lifted a hand and knocked.

"One moment, please!" Erik's voice sounded startled. She waited, and within the next minute, the door creaked open, to reveal the boy with long, no-longer-tangled black hair, oversized clothes that belonged to her father, and the leather half-mask. At the sight of her, his eyes rounded, and he took a shocked step backward. "Oh!"

"Here." She held the cup out for him. "I brought you tea. It's a bit cold now. I apologize. I had to wait for everyone else to be asleep to give it to you."

He blinked, and slowly looked down at the cup. He took it from her. "Thank you," he breathed. "That's very kind, Mademoiselle."

She beamed. "It's no trouble." She pushed past him, into the room, and he seemed not to breathe as he watched her do so. She sat on the armchair in the corner of the room, right next to the bookshelf full of boring history and science texts.

He glanced shortly at the door, then looked back at her, swallowing thickly. He appeared to forget what to do with his entire body as he stood there, that cup in his hands. "Why did you have to wait for everyone else to be asleep?"

"Oh, because it's actually meant for me, and I'm supposed to be in bed."

Alarm lit his eyes. "Then I shall be punished for keeping you up late - please, Mademoiselle, I do not want to anger-"

"Oh, no, it's all right! My Papa is not too strict. He won't mind too much. Besides, I will get into trouble, not you!"

"Even still..." He frowned. "I hope I don't offend you, but...I don't want any conflict."

She nodded sagely. "Of course. I understand. You must want peace and quiet after all that time in that cage!"

He froze. Grimaced. "Please. Please, Mademoiselle."

"Yes?"

"Please, if you don't mind...please, I would like to be left alone."

Christine's face went blank. "Oh."

"Yes. I am sorry. But I am quite tired."

"I spoke out of turn, didn't I?"

He shook his head rapidly. "No. No. It's all right. I've merely had a tiring day. You've been very kind to bring me this tea. I am grateful for your generosity, and to M. Daaé's generosity too."

Christine stood, expression fallen. "Oh, I have been rude!"

"Please, Mademoiselle. Please."

"Yes." She made her way to the door. "Yes, I understand." Then, suddenly, spun toward him. "Oh, please don't tell Mme. Valerius I visited you!"

"I won't."

"She'll be so cross."

"I won't tell."

"Even though I was rude?"

"You weren't..." He sighed. "I won't tell."

Content with that, or at least having to be, she nodded. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," he whispered, not meeting her gaze.

With that, Christine left the room, closing the door behind her. She made it safely to her room, not a soul awakening, but part of her wished someone had roused. Then, at least, she would have a good distraction, for she was sure she'd not be able to sleep tonight.