Chapter 22- Like Mother Like Daughter

Rosalie had not been to the Opera House before in her life. Tonight was truly special for her. As she walked sandwiched between her mother and father Christine let her hand go and departed to the stage door. Raoul led Rosalie to the infamous de Chagny box. Heads turned as the high profile family entered the Opera House.

Rosalie sat as properly as she could in her dainty little dress. She ached to lean over the railing and observe all the different people, but proper young ladies did no such thing. As a child, she was fortunate enough to be present at the opera. Society buzzed with the appearance of the young countess. Rosalie certainly appeared older than her 8 years in her cream colored frock which had been fringed with fine French lace and satin ribbons. Her hair had been coiffed into a young looking bun.

Raoul allowed Rosalie to sit on his lap when the music of the Overture began. The opera tonight was a special anniversary rendition of Faust. Rosalie had dreamt of seeing her mother and Maestro in this opera. For some reason it held special interest for them. Rosalie had often noticed moments like this between these two important people in her life but being only a child, could not understand nor explain it.

Seeing her mother sing on stage thrilled Rosalie more than any other experience in her life. The life of an opera singer continued to be more enthralling than any fairytale a child would yearn to be a part of. Although the story of Faust contained, perhaps, darker moments that many children would dislike, Rosalie drowned herself in the music. When her Maestro took the stage Rosalie held her breath in awe. She had heard him sing with her but never with such grandeur and vibrancy. His voice affected her deeply, like a soothing music box.

When Christine and Enrique sang together the entire audience could not breathe from the intensity. Their voices molded together to form a perfectly resonant expression of sound that no one could describe with words. You would have to have been there to understand. Many gossiped about a secret love shared by the two but that rumor never left the opera world. Anyone else would attribute their unbelievable stage chemistry to sheer talent.

Raoul disliked seeing them perform, something in his stomach twisted around tightly suffocating him. He knew that Rosalie adored Enrique and that further enraged him. Were it not for his love for Christine and Enrique's knowledge of Raoul's past, the wealthy Count would not stand for any of it. He sat in his seat watching his wife sing to another man with more passion than she ever spoke to her husband, him. Raoul always felt distance with his wife, a barrier that only music could break was left standing between them.

When the curtain fell on the stage, the two stars exited past the chorus and ballet and retreated to their adjoining dressing rooms. Christine sat at her bureau unpinning her curly hair, now beginning to show some age with the specks of gray that now streaked it. Wearing her dressing gown, she then wiped off her makeup. She saw the door to Enrique's room open slowly and Erik's head popped through. Age had not affected him deeply but a few lines had deepened over the years and long forgotten smiles lines revealed his happiness over the years.

Erik began to knead Christine's shoulders tenderly as she finished removing her makeup. His orange tinted lips indicated that he had not begun the de-characterizing process yet. Christine closed her eyes although trying not to let Erik distract her. Erik continued to seduce her, and leaned over kissing her neck whispering teasing remarks into her ear. Every performance it was the same, he tried this often and Christine had only consented once or twice. However afterwards, the regret became so unbearable that she would fall asleep with tears straining her pillow. She moved away and walked behind her changing screen.

"Enrique please, not tonight, my daughter and husband will be here soon."
Erik flinched at the pseudonym she had used instead of his true name, "Enrique will return to his dressing room then, ma Cherie." He then realized what she had said, "Rosalie is here?"

Christine nodded. Erik sat down on her chair, "When will you tell your husband the truth, Christine?" Christine stepped out from behind the screen avoiding the question,

"Well certainly not tonight." Erik stood up so that Christine could fix her hair. He would not let her avoid this topic so easily.

"Christine it has been 7 years, you cannot deny me anymore. She is my child, I want to be with her; I want her to know who I am. I am her father." His voice rose as he became upset. Christine hushed him but it did no good, "No! I thought it was for the best but it is not. She isn't happy Christine; I can see it and sense it. I know my daughter, she is like me. She needs me."

Christine sighed, "Erik… Enrique, I cannot do that to Raoul. And if you tell him, I will never forgive you."
Erik slumped in defeat and mumbled as he left the dressing room, "I'll be ready soon, at least let me see her." The door closed quietly and Christine finished getting ready.

Outside the dressing rooms a well-dressed Count had intended on knocking on his wife's door and presenting her with long stem roses. He had not intended upon eaves-dropping on a conversation that would crush his soul to bits. He had not expected to glance at his young daughter who was speaking to the dancers a few yards and feel like he had lost a battle he had thought he had won.