Her room had turned to a disorganised chaos. She had tried on many different dresses, and could not decide on the right one. Right for what? Who was she trying to impress? Was it the fact that the whole of Venetian aristocracy would be watching her tonight...or that Erik was taking her to the Opera? She felt helpless, like the first night she had accompanied Raoul to a high society gala in Paris. Newly wed, Raoul had been very eager to show off his lovely young bride. "Just put on the pink dress dearest, you will be adored in that!" HE adored her in that. SHE hated the dress. With a sudden irritation, she realised to what extend she had allowed Raoul to make up her mind for her, live her life for her...
She closed her eyes, trying to let her instinct decide. Think, Christine, think! What would he find beautiful? No, that would not do, all these gowns had been hand picked by him, meaning he would like them all. Then what would you feel comfortable in? She opened her eyes again and the first gown her eyes landed on, was a beautiful sea green, decorated with blue and green embroideries. Yes, instinct had decided!
Franca nodded at her reflection in the large mirror. "Very well chosen, Madama! This colour suits you very nicely!"
Christine turned around, the dress softly twirling along. "Do you mean that Franca, or are you merely relieved to be able to put the other ones away?"
Franca smiled and hung the other dresses before returning to the vanity. "Now, what with your hair?"
Christine looked at the massive load of curls jumping in all directions. Céline would face the same problem one day! "Put it up Franca, I fear it may be the only way to subdue it!"
"Such a shame, Madama! Such beautiful curls and then hiding them away from your face..." Christine pondered at the thought. Perhaps with just a few clips...
"Alright Franca, do as you please." Franca smiled, quickly getting to work. The hour was drawing near for their departure and she knew the Maestro did not want to be kept waiting. She pulled Christine's hair away from the ears up, pinning it down with some fine mother of pearl pins. The lower part she entwined loosely, keeping it in place with some smaller pins in the shape of butterflies. This way the hair reached its full length at her back, without seeming disorganised. Christine studied herself in the mirror, and vaguely recognised the diva Erik had tried to make of her only full grown now, and hopefully wiser!
As she walked out of her room she nervously pulled her white gloves, Franca running behind her with her cape. Quickly peeking in on Céline, she noticed the little one was fast asleep. Good. Everything would go as planned now.
Nicole curtsied. "Have a wonderful evening, Madame...I dare say you look very beautiful indeed!" She smiled. "Thank you Nicole."
She walked out of the room, turning towards the staircase, as she saw him standing on the other side of the hallway, coming from his own chambers. Franca quickly draped the Cape around Christine's shoulders, and hastened away.
As she came closer to him she realised to her relief she had been right about the dress. He stood in complete awe of her. He himself was once again impeccably dressed in a black silk, complemented with a crisp white shirt and of course his mask. Christine felt once again like a little girl, putting on her prettiest clothes waiting for her suitor to arrive. She glowed of happiness and anticipation and it added to her appeal.
"You look...exquisite." It was all he could manage to say.
She gave a short but playful curtsy, shy at his compliments. "I thank you. I am glad to bare your approval Monsieur. Have I not kept you waiting? Will we reach the theatre in time?"
He smiled at her, offering her his arm. "I expect not, indeed I intend not to. It is so much more convenient entering after the lights have dimmed..."
They left the Palazzo through the side entrance, where the boat docked. The Opera Classicale was directly by the water and thus much more easily reached in that manner. Most of Venice was crossed by boat in stead of carriage and Christine had found it utterly charming. Sitting by his side as his man quickly but steadily rowed them across, she smelled the crisp sea breeze, saw the dimmed lights from the Palazzi reflect on the waterfront and felt intensely happy. She could very well immagine why Erik referred to Paris as Hell.
"So how came you to work on the Basilica?" She was glad to have found a topic for conversation that had his heart's interest.
"I was recommended to the committee by a good friend of mine, a Priest. The old Basilica had just burned down, there were many wounded and dead, and despair was great. The church needed to be reconstructed quickly in order to give the people of the congregation a place of refuge, to mourn their dead. Father Domenico had told the committee that my...disfigurement was the result of a fire as well. With the situation being as it was, it was an explanation easily accepted by all and no one has asked awkward questions since."
Christine smiled at him. "Most convenient, for I cannot immagine an architect being able to perform his art in the dark, nor find workmen coming out at the still of night."
He looked over the water before turning back to her. "Convenient indeed, though I prefer the dark slumbers still. When mankind goes silent and the true music of the world can be heard."
Before long they had arrived and with great ease and training he stepped out on the dock before assisting her. His timing had been perfect, for most had by now entered the theatre and the lights were beginning to dim. Christine was surprised to find Erik had his private box at the theatre. One which, he sheepishly admitted, he did not have to force off anyone this time.
"Being, as it seems, this city's most respected architect gives one certain privileges. In my case I knew exactly in which direction to steer their minds."
Christine looked about and already noticed the ladies peering in her direction, commencing exited conversation.
"Have you seen the Maestro and his radiant lady, my dear? I did not think the day would come to find him with a woman by his side!"
"Surely they are not...involved, you think?"
"Well, I do not see her with a chaperone, so what does that give us to contemplate?"
"They do make a stunning pair, would you not agree?"
"I had heard her to be married dearest! I am sure Galdoni referred to her as Signora de Chagny?"
"Contessa, dearest. But she seems to have traveled to Venice by herself, for though she did mention Signore Alighieri invited her, the invitation seems not to have included il Conte!"
Christine smiled at their gossip, which she could now bare so much better than in Paris. Let them talk, she thought. Soon their voices will silence and the music will take over. As the lights went down she quietly took his hand.
"Thank you for bringing me here." He seemed to stiffen under her touch, but did not pull away.
"Thank you for joining me."
The performance was exquisite. It made her realise how low standards had been at the Opéra Populaire, probably from constant lack of money. After a stunning solo by the leading Soprano, Erik had grinned at her.
"Now do you comprehend why the likes of La Carlotta have to wander as far as France to still find employment?"
She had given him a scolding look but silently agreed, realising how much his musical heart had been trampered on all those years. How he had yearned for such perfection in HIS theatre! Quietly she felt flattered in knowing he had found her good enough, or at least better than Carlotta who had originally been trained right here in Italy. Her heart cried, wishing for the music to enter her life again! During the interval, as they went to the grand lobby for drinks and conversation, she saw his face turn porcelain as soon as they left their box. Self protection. She had used it herself quite often back in Paris. A delicate smile appeared on her face as she rested her hand on Erik's arm. Hooking it, as he had allowed her at home, would raise too many questions from the more than eager aristocratic ladies gathering around.
"Maestro, Buonasera! How are you enjoying the performance tonight?" An elderly lady called out to him, and her entire group of guests fell numb as they stood awaiting Erik's reply and the unavoidable introduction to his lady.
"I find it quite sublime, I thank you. May I introduce my lovely escorte, la Contessa de Chagny? Christine, la Contessa Baldona. Her husband, il Conte Baldona, is one of the Opera's beneficiaries."
The ladies curtsied, and la Contessa immediately took charge. "Lovely to make you acquaintance dearest. You are resting your poor lungs here in Venice, I understand?"
Erik nor Christine knew where she had obtained such information, but Christine nodded confirmingly. "I am indeed. I find the climate so much more agreeable here. I am however well on my way to recovery, I thank you."
The Contessa smiled. "That is good to hear dearest. To be so near death...your poor husband must be sick with worry, I am sure!"
Erik immediately felt her grip on his arm stiffen, but before he could come to her aid he heard her answer the question as appropriate as possible. "My...poor husband, I'm afraid, has departed for the heavens before me, Contessa. Were he still with me God knows how he would have loved to accompany me here, seeing me well."
An absence well explained. It made him realise once more his little chorus girl had grown up. She had learned her way in aristocratic circles and was handling the situation quite well.
The Contessa was caught off guard. "You poor girl! To be widowed at such a young age, it is intolerable!" A curious smile reappeared in her eyes as she watched Erik, now offering Christine a glass of Champagne which she happily accepted.
"It must be quite a comfort to you to have your...guardian here looking out for your well being. I order you to take head though Signore Alighieri. To bring your young charge here, without a proper chaperone!"
Erik gave her a frozen smile, tired of the woman's prying. "Do you mean to imply the lady to be in any danger of losing her good reputation to me, Contessa? I assure you I would attempt no such thing here under your protective wings..."
She started a flattered smile, as he finished his sentence sarcastically. "Why intend to pry on a lady's honour in such a public setting when I can enjoy her...radiant presence each day at Palazzo Persico?" Without awaiting her response he obligingly bowed and turned, escorting Christine back to their seats.
"That was very bad of you indeed." She tried to sound shocked, but he could hear the delight echoing in her voice.
"On one side they all wish me to be a father and guardian to you, and on the other they are all hoping for a scandalous love affair! I have presented them with both options, it should be quite entertaining to see which one will prevail."
In her head, Christine would not know the outcome of such a battle herself. Was he still her Angel and guardian, bringing her here from France, nursing her back to health, reintroducing her into society...or was there more?
She looked up at his handsome face, the teasing lights still dancing about in his eyes, thoroughly enjoying his latest jest, and suddenly felt all warm inside. She had believed herself greatly in love with him once... His mystery, his music, his soothing compliments, his touch, their kiss...Oh yes, she had been very much in love with Raoul de Chagny, but that did not mean she had not felt a deep sense of loss when she was forced to leave the Opéra that night. "Christine I love you..." was it the memory resounding in her ears or had he just spoken to her?
"Are you alright?" His eyes looked at her worried.
"Yes, I'm quite alright. Just lost in memories and thoughts..." She could sense him eager to learn more, but he was polite enough not to press on.
"Could we...I mean, would you even consider perhaps...to teach me once more?" His face was a total blank, and she could tell she had caught him completely by surprise. Was she seriously suggesting recommencing her vocal training?
"I suppose if you wish it...I could find some time to schedule your lessons. We shall consult with Dottore Romani if it is acceptable to put such a strain on your lungs yet."
And that was it. She had expected him to say no, or rather to say nothing at all, but he had graciously accepted. She would once again be able to loose herself in music. His music. As the lights dimmed for the second act and noise died down, she gave him her most grateful look before turning her attention back to the stage.
The Palazzo was already at rest by the time they returned. Erik had instructed Renzo not to stay up and Renzo had known better than to ask questions or counterset the Maestro.
They quietly entered the hall, finding only some candles lit towards the grand staircase. In the dim lights the Palazzo looked very exotic and warm. A tension lay in the air, both of them could feel it. Christine shivered as he reached for her hand to guide her up the stairs. "Don't be foolish, you are letting the Champagne talk to you!" she scolded herself.
As they reached the hallway she tiptoed to Céline's room to check on her. Nicole had left a candle by her bedside and for a moment Christine could not resist sitting by her side, staring at her child sleeping. "My angel..." Suddenly she remembered Erik's emotional reaction when she had admitted to him how little Raoul had cared for the child... "How...could one receive such a gift from our Lord, such a picture of perfection, such loveliness...and deny it?"
She needn't turn around to feel his presence. She could feel him looking at her, at them, and suddenly heard him utter a soft sigh. The sound one would make when you believe the world to be a perfect place.
"Don't worry, she's fast asleep, she won't hear you."
Did she just invite him to enter? Quietly Erik entered the room from the doorpost he had been leaning at, dizzy with doubt and happiness at the same time.
"She needs a lighter room..." It was all he could say, for he suddenly found the child, surrounded by such sober colours, to look oddly out of place.
"No, no, she is perfectly happy here!" She looked around at him, taking his hand as if to add strength to her plea. "She has confessed to me how much she enjoys the scent of the honeysuckle outside her window..."
"She has also confessed to be frightened of the darkness." Had he been listening in on their conversations? It wouldn't surprise her.
"Aren't all children afraid of the dark? She will learn there is nothing frightening about the darkness, she merely needs to grow up a little further..."
She looked deep into his eyes, and noticed he had caught the meaning of her words. He looked at Céline once more, then suddenly reached out and touched her soft curls, surrounding her face on the pillow as a disorganised halo.
"The darkness holds no place for such angels..."
She realised, as he had, how the words had a double meaning. He quickly turned around and walked away. Christine jumped up and followed him, running to keep up with his quick pace.
"Erik!" He froze upon hearing her use his name again.
"Thank you for this wonderful evening. Thank you...for everything I suppose..."
His clear eyes seemed to pierce hers as a lifetime of emotions passed through them. From anger, to fear, to passion, to...love? He moved closer to her and for a moment she expected him to kiss her. She closed her eyes and felt a warm and gentle hand reaching for her face, softly stroking her blushing cheek before continuing down to her chin and her neck where the movement was abruptly interrupted. Her eyes flung open again, now witnessing nothing but pain and regret. He was about to say something, then suddenly seemed to change his mind before gently kissing her hand.
"Goodnight Christine." He turned and entered his room, locking the door behind him.
Sleep would not come to him that night. He tossed and turned, being haunted by feverish dreams. Christine's loving eyes, her body so close to his he could feel her warmth, smell the delicate lavender from her hair. "Angel of music I denied you..." Her whispers in his ear. And then the image of their goodbyes, her standing before him in her ruined wedding dress, returning the ring that she was supposed to wear beyond eternity, hurt and confusion in her eyes, the shock of realisation that her Angel was in fact nothing more than a very dark mind. One that was prepared to kill a perfectly noble man simply for him loving Christine. Her delusional prayers at the cemetary, her disbelieve at his return...
And now there she was, back in his life. How he longed to hold her, kiss her, tell her of all his fears, his pain, the black abyss that formed the years of her absence. But the words would not come. Opening up would mean the destruction of his protective barriers, of feeling again. Opening up would mean the pain would start all over again the moment she would feel well enough to return to her friends in Paris, leaving him once more. It would mean the end of him, this he knew for fact.
And so he would remain her humble servant, her dear friend and guardian...and let her go when the time had come. Let her get back to living, as he would. He closed his eyes once more, mumbling a prayer. "Lord give me strength..." but he knew that strength was fading...quickly.