Fallen Angels chap.2
Christine sat beside the Girys in their carriage as it made its way towards the manor of the Viscount Du Chagny. At first she had been in no hurry to see Raoul again, but she began to grow curious of the state of their marriage. She had been gone for three days and now she would to a penitent husband, or collect her thing from a churlish bastard. Her heart cried to her, she still had love for Raoul, but she it would be more painful to stay and watch him drift away from her, than to leave altogether at once. He had made her feel worthless, even after all that she had done, the little opera singer wasn't enough for a Viscount, he had to have more. I should have expected this, his whole society has treated me as though I were nothing since the moment I married him. She was never close to Raoul's parents; they hadn't been thrilled to see the woman their son had chosen to marry and were considerably cold to her until their death. His upper class friends were no different, Christine heard quite a few rude terms applied to her throughout their years of marriage. The abuse worsened as she failed to produce any sons to inherit his title. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. The whole ride Christine tried desperately to keep from shaking nervously; it finally came under control as the carriage pulled into the courtyard of the manor. The three ladies descended and approached the door, before they could even approach and ring the bell, the door was flung open and an irate Raoul stood before them. "What a wonderful surprise that my wife should see fit to return home. Won't you ladies please come in." His voice dripped with sarcasm and had a dangerous edge to it. They entered cautiously, Raoul stepping back from the doorway. "See to the Girys." He commanded a maid, curiously enough, not Lizette. "My wife and I have to speak." Before she could protest, Christine was drawn away from her companions into Raoul's study.
They stood face to face in the little room, Christine summoning her courage, trying to remember that this was the husband she loved. "I must speak to you Raoul. Tell me you love and that you apologize for what has transpired. I love you and I want our life together back again. But you must be true to me, I cannot tolerate adultery." She looked hopefully at him, and Raoul stared dumbly for a moment. Then a fury overtook him and broke his calm surface. "Apologize! Christine have you lost your reason? It is my right as a MAN to do as I please." He advanced on her, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her against the study's door. His face mere inches from hers as his voice increased its volume. "You should apologize to me, to be so impertinent after all I've done for you, saving you from the monster under the opera house, raising you up from the nothing that you were, making you the Countess Du Chagny." As I recall it he let us go. Christine's voice had vanished, the argument dying on her tongue in the face of Raoul's rage. He pressed her even harder into the door; she winced but made not a sound. "Stay if you like, but understand you are to never argue with me again." He released the arms he had been pinning to the door, his anger seemingly gone beneath his calm, charming exterior. Christine had never known such a monster could exist beneath the loving exterior he had always shown to her. She felt as though he had become a possessor of things and people, and that he believed as he had said, that all things should be to his liking. "Let us forget all of this Christine." For a moment she could see the old Raoul, sliding back into place to cover the horrific inner self. It called to her, it tempted her. "We can go back to how it was, just accept the way things are." She focused her vision on him, bringing together all the strength she could muster, she knew that she could not just accept and pretend that all was as it once was. Seeing the lack of response and the look in her eyes, Raoul knew that this was a battle he was swiftly losing. "Fine, go collect your things, I'll be nice and let you take anything I've bought for you. Understand that you will be back though, you need me, without me you are nothing. " Christine felt like spitting in his face, instead she simply left him standing alone in the study. Out of spite Raoul shouted behind her "I should have left you in the bowels of the opera house." She realized than how those moments ate at him, how much her actions then must have torn at his subconscious. The door was quickly slammed behind her.
A mere half-hour later, Christine again sat beside the Girys in their carriage, headed back towards what was home for now. She had only taken the most modest and inexpensive of her dresses, one of the finer gowns, a couple of pairs of shoes, a little jewelry, various undergarments and nightgowns, one coat, and one bonnet. All this totaled to only a fraction of all that Raoul had given her, but she wanted nothing to do with his money or his gifts right now. She had been inclined to take the last of her monthly allowance though, so that she may have something to live on and something to give the Girys by way of rent. She could not bear the thought of freeloading off the two, though they claimed they had money enough to spare, Christine hated the thought of being a burden. Raoul's last words haunted her mind throughout the ride home, as she sat silently brooding and staring out the window. They had stung less than he had intended, a lot less considering all the events of the last few days. They had produced in her mind a sense of disorientation and a few uncomfortable thoughts. Sense her home of the moment was with them, Meg and Madame Giry tried every effort throughout dinner that night to make Christine feel comfortable and to try to cheer her obviously dismal thoughts. Their efforts went unrewarded as she sat for the most part silent, barely picking at her food. As Christine lay awake during the night, she couldn't help be feel like the little unwanted orphan, arriving at the opera house all over again. She felt as though she had no one left in the world. She had been shattered twice in a lifetime. She lay there wallowing in her own grief and misery, when a cold thought crept its way across her consciousness. This time there would be no Angel of Music to turn to in her misery, no comforting songs, no words of encouragent, no voice to bring her back to life. Out of loneliness, she began to miss the man who had once terrified and enthralled her. Now, in this moment, she knew what it was to be utterly alone. She pulled the blankets around her and began to sob all over again in her new found hopelessness.
For the next few weeks, Madame Giry observed as Christine went through the motions of being a person that still retained an interest in life. Everyday was the same, she would sleep late, dress, eat whatever remained of breakfast, help the maids with housework or read, she would have dinner with the family, then she would go upstairs, do God knows what, and go to bed. Madame Giry observed this as silently as possible. She worried deeply about the woman's sanity, for she appeared to be in mourning as deeply as when her father had died. She tried all she could think of to break Christine out of the prison of her thoughts, but she responded to nothing. On Christine's part, everything she did, was directed at avoiding any extraneous thoughts, all thinking did was upset her. She tried to numb herself so she wouldn't feel the stinging pain of day to day existence. While she could have joined Meg and Madame Giry at work at the opera house, she didn't want to burden them and wasn't sure about spending time there at all. It was in these unsettling, nightmarish weeks, that she found herself learning more about laundry and polishing than she ever wanted to know or thought possible to know. The maids were nice enough to indulge her, though at times she was more of a burden than help. They felt sorry for her though, she seemed like a lost little girl during the times that she spent with them. The weeks past, and the hurt lessened, but Christine was still lost, not knowing what to do with herself, she held fast to her routine. Madame Giry felt ready to make one last attempt to draw the girl back into reality. She cornered one afternoon as Christine made beds. "Tomorrow night there will be a production of Il Muto, Meg will be playing the pageboy, and I will watch from a box, would you like to attend with me dear?"
"Il Muto..." She whispered, the very title sending shivers down her spine. "I...I'm not entirely sure. I haven't been to an opera in years, I'm sure you understand." Madame Giry would not be deterred. "Christine, you must let go of ghosts and live your life. Come to the opera, enjoy yourself." She hesitated, as though she would again refuse. "Consider this a maternal order then. You will come to the opera willingly, or I will drag out of this house." She smiled sweetly and left Christine to her bed making.
The next night Christine nervously readied herself for the opera. She wore the one fine gown she had taken from Raoul, a silver silk with a modest neckline, sleeves that belled at the wrists, a tiny bustle, and delicate lace trim. She adorned herself with the set of diamonds she had, none of them too big, just delicate points of light at her ears, neck, and wrists. Her mind wandered as the maid helped her with her hair, applying the sparkling little pins that would keep it up in its place. She wondered what it would be like to actually watch an opera, not be in it, she felt herself slipping into the past. It was as though she walked down a road in her mind, that road leading her to one eventual place. Why would he again come to my rescue than? Why after I had betrayed him? She blushed, finding herself on the topic once again. Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted by a call from downstairs that the carriage was ready. She descended the stairs, careful of her dress. Madame Giry smiled at her, "You look lovely child. Now we will go and enjoy ourselves." With that they were off to a world Christine had forgotten how much she loved.
Christine shifted nervously in the box her and Madame Giry shared, the orchestra was tuning for the coming performance. Glancing in the program an English name was listed as the night's leading soprano, Helena Ashford. "English girl?" She glanced at Madame Giry. "Yes, she's the toast of the town right now. The men are throwing themselves at her. Her voice is none so good as others I've heard." She gave a poignant look to Christine. "But, she has won the hearts of the public." Christine inwardly bristled at the insinuation, Madame Giry was prodding her to show her talent and become involved. "I hear she has also acquired a reclusive tutor who has taught her all she knows, it is said that he is a genius." Christine knew who she implied that it might be, though she tried to cover her emotions with a blank stare in the direction of the stage. Madame Giry could not be fooled, but she said nothing.
The opera began, the same way it always had. Then the curtains came back to reveal the diva, and Meg in the part of the pageboy. Christine couldn't help but stare at the perfectly stunning woman who sang on the stage. She wasn't wearing the white wig typically worn as part of the costume; instead her hair was itself, long blonde curls. She couldn't see them, but she had heard her eyes were a brilliant green. She looked like a woman who should be a countess, not playing one on stage. The thought made Christine feel a note of self pity. As she sang the part, Christine noticed the lack of vocal quality that Madame Giry had earlier spoken of. As her voice attempted to go up and then down the scale, something happened and she let out a terrible squeak. She flashed the audience a brilliant smile, and giggling she resumed the part. The audience, especially the male half, quickly forgave her. Christine sat through the production, not really enjoying it, even though it was certainly a bigger affair than she had previously seen. Everything in the new opera house was bigger and louder. Christine let her eyes wander the boxes, surveying their occupants. Her breath caught, she swore she saw a face in a mask in one of the boxes. Quickly her eyes were turned back that way, and the illusion was gone. Was I hoping for that? What's wrong with me? The opera ended, she hadn't even seen most of the last act. Meg earned a raucous applause from the audience. Mademoiselle Ashford, as she strode out for curtain calls, blowing kisses was of course greeted by a carpet of flowers thrown onto the stage, and the undying love of the young men. Christine found herself liking her less and less; she was too much a peacock for a woman with her limited talents.
Afterwards, the audience filed out into the great vast lobby, Christine hung back on the stairs as Madame Giry discussed some bit of business with the primary director of the ballet. A great cacophony could be heard in the main lobby, it drew Christine's attention and she walked a little further down the grand staircase to take a look. She leaned over the railing and saw that the great diva herself was out in the lobby among her adoring fans. She had acquired yet another pile of flowers at her feet and there was no shortage of young men hurling themselves at her feet. She smiled and simpered and flashed about those green eyes that Christine could quite clearly now see. All in all the display made Christine want to be physically ill. "Quite a piece of work isn't she?" Madame Giry had come up behind her unnoticed and startled Christine a bit. She was making a face that showed her utter disapproval for the display going on below. "She's something." Was all Christine could reply, for as much as she disliked the woman, she could admit to herself that she was beginning to feel a bit envious of her.
"I'm afraid we're hard pressed to find a singer with both class and talent. It's too bad there isn't someone who could show the strumpet how a true star conducts herself." She gave Christine a smile and another one of her looks that meant she was baiting her into a reaction. The ploy was a weak one however; Christine knew she was trying to get her singing again. It galled her that that the Madame could even think of such a thing. It bothered her even more to think it might become necessary. Now that she was husbandless, she would have to find away to support herself, and there were only two things she was ever good at, singing and dancing. She could depend on the Girys forever. "Damn Raoul." She muttered to herself as she continued down the stairs behind Madame Giry, lost in her thoughts of how to begin making her life anew. She reached the bottom of the stairs and was startled by the shrill cry of "The Countess Du Chagny!" Christine drew in a breath, Dear God in heaven, make her stop. In a moment the obnoxious diva was at the bottom of the stairs with her, placing an arm around her shoulder as though they were good friends. The newspaper men flashed their cameras and made sure to jot everything down for tomorrow's edition. Christine plastered on a smile for the sake of appearances. "It is such an honor one who was such a phenomenon. Your voice was an inspiration."
Christine kept smiling. "Thank you so very much, the honor is all mine, really." Inspiration! Ha. Madame Giry said she had only recently arrived in France, she has never heard me sing. "And where is your husband, the Viscount Du Chagny, this evening?" Her eyes glittered with an icy hatred Christine could feel, and the tone of her voice did little to hide it. "He is at home this evening." Christine coolly ejected herself from the situation. Past tenses, inquiring about Raoul, I know when someone is trying to humiliate me. Everyone in Paris had heard of the split between them. She had been publicly embarrassed and she had no idea why. As she fled the opera house as fast as she could without looking foolish she heard a reporter call out, "Can you tell us more about this mysterious teacher of yours Mademoiselle?" Helena's smile revealed the deep pride she held in her secret. "Only that his name is Erik, and he's very reclusive and talented." The statement drew Christine's attention, but she continued on her way out of the opera house, the sting of public embarrassment burning though out her entire being.
Life returned to its previous state at the Girys house after the night at the opera. It had left her with a few things to ponder, which she tried desperately to shut out of her mind with her daily routine. She had to admit, if only to herself, she missed having music in her life, it had been the only problem and her and Raoul's marriage, up until recently. Madame Giry's hinting at a return to the stage for her had set things moving in her mind. She already knew she would have enemies if she chose to return, Helena Ashford and more than likely her soon to be ex-husband. Her heart clenched up painfully at any thought or mention of Raoul. She still wanted to love, but knew that happiness could never come from him. The pain still lurked, but the love she had once had for him was fading.
To make money, and keep herself occupied, Christine began to give piano and voice lessons to children. She had to admit she loved working with them, they were so carefree and they cheered her world. She regretted never having any of her own. They were always so sweet to her, and worked hard to please because she tried not to be to stern with them. One afternoon Madame Giry flew into parlour where Christine was given a lesson in an excited flurry, tossing out the young pupil, and shutting the door behind him. She beamed at Christine, a smile of triumph. "There is a great opportunity before you. " Christine braced herself for what ever it was Madame Giry was thinking of. "The Paris Opera will present a production of Mozart's The Magic Flute." Christine stared at her, nit exactly sure what this had to do with her, but the Madame quickly went on. "The opera has two major female voices in it, and Helena cannot split herself in two and play both roles. She'll be playing the heroine, Princess Pamina. There will be open auditions for the second voice, The Queen of the Night, in three weeks. It seems that the managers are looking to put a new face on stage." She gave her that look, again. Christine was breathless. A part she had studied, an open audition, a chance to return to the world she had long missed. She hesitated, longing to say she would do this, but a thousand doubts washed through her mind. "You must say yes Christine; this is what you were meant to do." Though she would never give Madame Giry an official yes, she began to practice the part in every spare moment she had. For three weeks she practiced, thinking of nothing but returning to the stage. She never told anyone her intentions, she simply rose early the morning of the auditions, put on a fine lavender dress, and headed off to the opera house.
Christine arrived early and gathered with the other girls in the large lobby. They were soon greeted by the managers, and were told that Mademoiselle Ashford was having a private rehearsal in the theatre with the orchestra and her private tutor, auditions would begin afterwards. They invited them to explore, but to kindly keep out of the theatre. The managers and opera director made a list of the young ladies; upon reaching her they addressed her as the Countess Du Chagny. Oh God, everyone heard her the other night. Her cheeks turned a bright red. "Please sir, call me by my maiden name, for in a few weeks I shall be only Christine DaaƩ again. She could hear the whispers that went through the room; this would be discussed in every drawing room and parlour by evening. After the list was completed, the women were left to their own devices. A general chatter began amongst the ladies and Christine attempted to draw away from the milling crowd as the managers disappeared. Christine badly wanted to meet this mysterious voice teacher, although she had a suspicion to who it was. That being true, it would explain the diva's vicious verbal attack the other night. A few women struck up menial conversations with her, most resented her presence, fearing her to be too much competition, and she was marred by her oncoming divorce. They crown eventually began to disperse; Christine seized the moment and ventured away from the crowd, toward an entrance to the theatre. Finding one and seeing no one about, she quietly opened the door and entered what was the same level as the boxes of the pit tier. She crept into one of the boxes, and up to the front, hoping no one would notice. She stood in the box, listening to Helena's voice, which carried quite well. Christine could tell how young and raw it was, and how limitedly talented it was. She listened as the woman struggled though a portion of the opera that was obviously new to her. After a few moments Christine's eyes began to wander the length of the theatre, eventually they maid their way to the box on the grand tier where she had seen the mask the night of Il Muto. As her gazed reached it, the breath left her body and it felt as though her heart had stopped. A man in a half mask gazed down at the struggling diva, visibly wincing when she would mangle a note. There was no doubt in Christine's mind, the Phantom was there.
