Hi everybody,
I am sorry that there was no update last week. Things were just getting too crazy and I did not get around to writing a new chapter. But it is here now! Thank you all for still sticking with me, for reading, for putting on alert, for adding to favorites, and most of all, for reviewing!
As to my anonymous reviewer "Guest": I know that there have been several stories where Erik and Christine were separated, but there have also been several, where they were pretty much together for most of the story, like e.g. "Guide and Guardian", "Love that You'll Regret", "Black Despair" or even ""When We've Said Goodbye". In fact, there are only two possibilities of writing a story: either they are together, or they are apart. So you cannot help avoiding being repetitive in this particular regard. One can make the stories different in every other aspect, though, and I hope that my stories have delivered in that regard so far.
Now let's see how our couple is dealing with the separation, and keep in mind that I do not own those characters!
Chapter 11 – Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again
"My dearest Angel," Raoul read. "Your friend has informed us that you have safely arrived. We are still a bit worried about you, though. Surely your trip must have been exhausting, because of your injury. I hope you are on the way to recovery now! Mme. Giry assures me that you are tough and that such a relatively minor injury should not cause you too much trouble, but I worry nevertheless. In my mind I see you in front of me like you were that last night, pale, in pain, your arm all bloody, and I wish I could be with you, take care of you, nurse you back to health, give you strength through my love..."
"Ewww!" Raoul felt like puking as he read Christine's letter to his rival, that M. Firmin had delivered to him about an hour ago. It had not been difficult to open it carefully by passing the envelope over the steam rising from a kettle full of boiling water. Having to stomach all those sweet words of love, Christine's concern for that monster, was something else, though.
Of course Raoul had suspected all along, that this ghost-person was not only Christine's mysterious teacher, but also his rival, the man she truly wanted. But so far this had only been a suspicion, not quite unfounded maybe, but still that, a theory. Now he had proof. Now he could not doubt any longer that Christine's heart belonged to another man, and one widely inferior to him, to boot. How could she even consider loving somebody like that phantom, an ugly, deformed person, shunned by society, forced into hiding, a wanted man and criminal, when he, the Vicomte de Chagny, patron of the arts, a rich, honorable, handsome, titled, respected man showed an interest in her? How could she dare insult him so by preferring that creature over him?
Raoul's anger rose. "She will pay for that," he swore to himself. "I will not rest until I have made her mine."
For a moment he thought about what to do with the letter. What if that freak never got it, what if he thought Christine had given up on him after his latest crime of killing Buquet? Wouldn't that drive a wedge between the lovers? Would the fiend then abandon Christine as well, and he himself could step in and comfort the heartbroken girl?
In the end Raoul decided to reseal the letter and to post it. After all, the letter was going to London. His rival was out of the way for now. It was unlikely that Christine would see him anytime soon and could talk to him. Maybe the separation alone would be enough to drive the couple apart. And if not, he could still take more drastic measures later. After all, if the very first letter Christine wrote to her beloved never reached its destination, wouldn't that cause some suspicions? Wasn't it better to give them the feeling that everything was fine, that they could safely communicate, before he would make his move and strike out against them?
Raoul had a feeling that it was best to lie low for the time being and to wait, while still courting Christine. Maybe with her lover gone, she would be more susceptible to his own charms, and if not... Sooner or later the perfect opportunity would present itself, he only had to be patient. At least he knew now where his rival was. That was a very important piece of information, the first step in the right direction. As for the rest, time would tell...
Xxxxx
Christine was anxious. The day before she had sent her first letter to Erik and now she was nervously waiting for his reply. She knew that it would be days before she could expect an answer, and yet... A day had never before seemed that long! And there would be several more days, endless like this one, before she would hold Erik's letter in her hands, before she could read his words of love and imagine him actually saying them to her in his beautiful, deep voice.
How she missed him! They had been together every day for years, even when she had still thought of him as an angel, they had talked at least once a day, and now... Now she had to live without him for the first time in approximately ten years, without his guidance, without his wit, his humor, his soothing voice, his council, his... his arms around her and his lips on hers. How was she supposed to go on like that?
She wondered if Erik was missing her just as much. Or was he too preoccupied with his new situation, with the fact that he had to find a niche for himself in a foreign city, where people probably were just as prejudiced against him as here in Paris? And he had promised her to find employment there and make a home for them so that she could one day follow him. Maybe he had so much on his mind that he could not think of her as much as she thought of him?
In a few days she might know. Assuming Erik would reply to her letter immediately. Assuming he was strong enough by then to write. Christine still was worried about Erik's injury. The fact that Nadir had mentioned that Erik had been slightly feverish when he arrived in London made her nervous. What if the wound had gotten infected? What if Erik's condition was more serious than Nadir had let them know?
"My dear, don't worry so much!" Mme. Giry lovingly put an arm around Christine's shoulders. "You will see, he will be fine. And I know he misses you every bit as much as you miss him. He loves you so very deeply. You will see, once we get a letter from Erik, it will be nothing but his deepest feelings for you. He will barely even think about me and Meg, all he will be talking about is you and your love and his desire to be reunited with you as soon as possible."
Christine nodded, trying to be brave. "But how can we be reunited?" she asked. "Erik is probably still too weak to look for work. And even if he is looking right now, will he be able to find something? Will he be able to earn his living like other men do? Will those English people be more willing to hire him despite... " She broke down sobbing.
"I am sure he will find a way," Mme. Giry reassured her. "He is resourceful and intelligent. I do not know his friend personally, but from what I have heard about him, he, too, is a man with lots of good ideas. Together they will find a way. Especially since Erik will be highly motivated to do so, knowing that this will be his best chance of being reunited with you soon."
Christine forced a weak smile. "I wish I could do something," she confessed. "Erik and his friend can make plans how to best find employment for him. They can check out opportunities, make inquiries. All we can do is sit and wait and hope for the best."
"And let him know that you love him, have faith in him, think of him every minute of every day and are looking forward to being with him again," Mme. Giry reminded her. "That is a whole lot you can do for him, and I am sure it will help him more than anything to know that you are waiting for him, his faithful bride."
Christine took a deep breath. "I had not thought about it that way," she admitted. "But I see now how this can help, too. And I will give Erik all my support, make sure he never doubts my love!"
Xxxx
Across the Channel, in the parlor of a small house at the outskirts of London, Nadir was trying to give his friend a pep-talk. Erik was in a gloomy mood. His wound had mostly healed, but the injured muscle still hurt at certain movements, and thus hindered him at his attempts to create a more life-like mask, which in Erik's opinion was the first thing he needed to do, before he even could think about looking for work.
"Erik, don't take it so hard," Nadir said, "such things take time. You should rest your arm more, then you will most likely regain full use of it more quickly. I do understand that you miss Mademoiselle Daaé, and I am sure she misses you just as much." He closed his eyes at the memory of a raven-haired beauty with passionate dark eyes, his beloved wife Rokhaya, who had died giving birth to their son Reza. She had been dead for several decades now and yet, not one day had passed since her demise that he had not thought of her with longing, missed her.
"But you are both alive, and still fairly young, even you, my friend," he smiled at Erik, who had been about to interrupt him. "There is a good chance that the two of you will eventually be together again. There is hope for the two of you! Focus on that! Be patient with your arm, don't over-exert it, give it time to heal. As long as that injury gives you trouble you won't be able to work anyway. But we can use that time of healing to think about what you could do. We could keep our eyes and ears open and find out where somebody with your unique and considerable abilities could be needed."
Erik sighed. "Patience, patience, patience!" he yelled. "Do you really think I have all the time in the world? Have you forgotten what I look like and who I am? Don't you realize that I know that Christine could do so much better than marrying me? Have you forgotten that there is a highly desirable, handsome, rich, young, titled patron hovering around her? What if now that I am gone and she won't be seeing me in a very long time, she feels lonely and abandoned and falls for the charms of this scoundrel? Or for some other nice, perfectly honorable boy? What if it takes me too long to secure a future for the two of us, and Christine will give up on me and find some other suitor?"
"Is your trust in her so weak?" Nadir countered. "I thought you loved her. In that case you also have to trust her and have faith in her. From what you have told me, it seems to me that her love is genuine, in which case you can rely on her fidelity."
"I know," Erik admitted. "It is just so hard to believe she will remain faithful if the wait is too long. I... you know how the world has treated me. My experiences have not been the best. I have been disappointed by people so many times, I could not take another blow, especially one as huge as this would be. If Christine... if she left me now, I do not think I would survive it!"
Nadir squeezed Erik's shoulder reassuringly. "Why do you always remember your bad experiences?" he asked softly. "Haven't you had some positive ones, too? Correct me if I am wrong, but have I ever disappointed you? Has your friend Antoinette ever withheld her support from you? Is it therefore so inconceivable that your Christine might be just like us, like me and Antoinette, loyal to you no matter what? Especially since it is your friend Antoinette that has raised her and has most likely taught the girl her own values."
Erik took a deep breath. "I know that there is some truth to your words, Nadir," he finally admitted. "It is just so hard to sit idly and wait until my arm is fully healed."
"Who said you should sit idly?" Nadir asked. "Did I not just mention that we should make plans, try to figure out what kind of work you would be most interested in and exploring opportunities in those areas?"
Erik sighed. "You know pretty well what I would like to do," he snapped. "A theater, preferably an opera house. I would love to run such a place, to choose which works to be performed, to hire the people I think most suited to the task, to design the sets and costumes, on occasion maybe compose a piece, in short, to make all the artistic decisions of such an establishment." He laughed a bitter laugh. "But you know just as well as I do, that with a face like mine, that is not the kind of career I can hope for. Maybe they'll give me a job as a coal miner, or maybe I could work in the docks, loading and unloading boats. And that would already be considered luck, give my..." He once again pointed at his face.
Nadir sighed. "An opera house," he mumbled. "That might indeed not be easy. But there are dozens of smaller venues in the theater district of the city, some of which perform operas quite often. Maybe if we find one that is currently struggling for survival, or whose owner is indebted and needs to increase his income in order to pay back his debts or something... I will just have to investigate."
He grinned. "Have you forgotten that I was daroga back home? A valued police officer? Surely you know that I do have some talent in finding out things? Or do you think I have gotten rusty in my old days and forgotten how to work my trade?"
Xxxx
A few days later, Nadir returned home with what he thought were exciting news. "I think I found it!" he exclaimed. "Erik, I think, I found your chance! As you know, I was out last night in the theater district, hanging around the bars and pubs, where performers and theater workers might go once the play is over." He pulled a face at the thought of people there consuming alcohol, and the kind of strange views he always got when he asked for water with his sandwich or whatever food he ordered.
"Anyway, there was talk at the pub about a small theater having changed ownership recently. It is called "The Music House", and it is located just round the corner from Piccadilly Circus. Supposedly the previous owner was too old to run a theater and thus made some pretty stupid decisions. Or rather, did not make the right ones, like repairing the roof, etc. The little place is therefore in rather bad shape and needs some renovation. The new owner does not seem to have much expertise in running a theater, either. There is talk that he bought it mainly so that his daughter, who loves music and opera, could have a theater of her own, where he can put on the performances she would like to see. From what I've heard, the girl is the apple of his eye and he fulfills her every wish. Now think about it, Erik! A man that wants to make his child happy at any cost! Who is willing to buy a whole theater for her! He cannot risk failing in this job, for which he is not suited at all. He supposedly is a rich merchant, with zero experience in the areas of theater, music, arts. He will need an artistic adviser, unless he wants this endeavor to be doomed from the beginning. He might be willing to hire anybody, and I mean anybody, who will be able to turn this investment into a success. Granted, the daughter might be a pain in the posterior, if she is as spoiled, as she must be, if the father buys her a theater, but if we could arrange it that you would only have to deal with him..."
Erik snorted. "Even if he is desperate to find a capable artistic adviser, what makes you think he will hire me? Surely there are other qualified people around that will apply for the job, people that he can actually look at without wanting to throw up."
Nadir shook his head. "Don't interrupt me, Erik," he scolded his friend. "I was coming to that part. As I just said, I had heard about this situation already last night. So I went out this morning to collect some more information. I actually saw "The Music House". It is a neat little building, but there is no chance it can be profitable any time soon. It is in dire need of renovations. Right now they only have a very limited ensemble, only a handful of musicians, two or three very average dancers, and a few singers, not enough to form a decent chorus, and those that are doing the solo parts are barely adequate for the choir. True, Mr. Stanton, the new owner, is supposedly rich and will be able to pay for renovation and he will be able to hire enough talent, but still, the situation at the moment is rather bleak. He will not find any qualified person to help him run this theater under these circumstances. Maybe in a few months, once the renovation is complete. But by then he should already have hired his performers, he should already have decided on a piece to perform, sets should already be built and rehearsals more or less complete, so that the moment the theater is in good shape, he can reopen it. Otherwise he would lose too much money, if after renovations are complete he has to wait another few months, preparing his first production. That's why Mr. Stanton needs an artistic adviser now, but cannot get one now."
Erik sighed. "That still does not help, if he does not want to give me a chance because of... this." He pointed to his face.
Nadir nodded. "True," he said. "Except I talked to him today. I told him about my friend who has all the necessary expertise, but does not stand a chance to find work because of his handicap. He said he can't afford the luxury of being picky, if my friend is as good as I said, he might be willing to give him a try." He smiled at Erik. "He wants to see you, Erik," he said. "Tomorrow afternoon. At five. It will be dark enough then that you can go out."
