Okay, there is no excuse for my long silence, I know that. And I was positive I would be able to update in a more timely manner, when I posted the last chapter. Of course that did not happen. Holiday preparations and 6 days without internet got in my way. But I am back now and once again I must thank you all for reading, for putting on alert, adding to favorites, and, last but not least, for reviewing. I am always surprised, how many people are still sticking with this story despite my rather irregular updates, but it is your support what keeps me going!
Anyway, back to the story. It seems everybody is miserable by now, with the exception of a certain fopster. But that was to be expected, or not? Anyway, please remember that I do not own these characters! (No, Santa once again disappointed by not giving me ownership of them, I know, too bad!)
Chapter 15 – Remember Me, Once In A While...
The moment the two ladies had reached the safety of Mme. Giry's quarters at the Opera, Christine had a nervous breakdown.
"What was that?" she sobbed. "Why did Raoul tell us all that about Erik and his employer? Do you think he knows...?"
Mme. Giry sighed. She wished she could say that it all had been a coincidence, that the Vicomte had had no ulterior motives when he mentioned "The Music House" and its apparently much anticipated reopening. There was, of course, a slim chance, that he had no clue as to who the new artistic director of that theater was and that he had only talked about it as part of his plan to work closer with other theaters. But if so, why had he gone into such details about this particular theater and its management? He had mentioned other possible candidates for cooperation as well without any additional information on these theaters' owners and employees.
"I fear he knows, or at least suspects," she therefore replied. "I am sure there is gossip about some of the other venues he is considering for cooperation as well, but he only gave us this story about the Stantons and their new protégé."
"Erik is in grave danger, then!" Christine whispered, starting to shake uncontrollably.
"Sh, quiet, calm down, my dear!" Mme. Giry was at Christine's side in an instant, hugging the sobbing girl close. "The Vicomte may suspect something, but I am not convinced he knows anything for sure. He did not mention that this artistic director of "The Music House" is said to be wearing a mask, for instance. Maybe that detail is still widely ignored in London. As Erik told us in his letters, the Stantons always let him use their carriage when they invite him, and he works long hours, therefore likely is not out much in daylight. Of course the people at "The Music House" must have seen him, but you know how he is. He always finds ways to conceal himself. When he auditioned the ensemble members he probably stood in the wings, only showing his normal left profile to them. So those he had to replace would not know about his handicap. Those he kept, are probably grateful to him and do not talk about it, especially since Mr. Stanton, the owner and thus their employer, seems to be really impressed with Erik. Who would want to anger their employer and risk getting fired? They may also respect Erik despite the mask because of his expertise. There are many reasons, why they would not talk to the media about his mask. Therefore Raoul might suspect that the genius at the theater is your teacher, but why would he think he is the former Opera Ghost?"
Christine nodded. What Mme. Giry had said did make sense, at least in a certain way. "But the name?" she weakly objected. "I told him once that my teacher's name is Givenould. Surely people in London know that this is the name of Mr. Stanton's new artistic director?"
"The Vicomte probably has heard that that's the name of the supposed genius at "The Music House"," Mme. Giry admitted. "But then again, he cannot be 100 percent certain it is your teacher. He may not exactly recall what name you gave him all those weeks ago, and even if he does, he cannot be sure that the spelling is identical. For instance, your teacher could be Erik Givenould, with a k and ld at the end of his last name, while the person in London could be Eric Givenoux, with a c and x at the end of his last name. Or the names might only be sounding similar. Erik is not such an unusual first name in England, and many last names there have a French origin, due to the fact that Norman kings ruled the island for many years. So, while the Vicomte may suspect, I don't think he can be sure."
"But he will try to find out for sure," Christine retorted. "We must warn Erik! He may not be safe in London anymore!"
Christine fought hard to suppress tears. If Erik was not safe in London, he would have to leave. Leave a place where he had found acceptance, a job and a chance at a future. If he had to leave now, where could he go? Where would he be safe from the Vicomte's investigations, where could he find a safe haven, and how long would it take till she would see him again?
"We will have to tell Erik to be careful," Mme. Giry decided. "He should not show himself in public more than absolutely necessary, he should work on a more life-like mask, and maybe apply for British citizenship. If he had a British passport, it would be hard to prove that he is a Frenchman by birth or that he has ever been to Paris."
"But will this be enough?" Christine asked, panic still clearly audible in her voice. "Will Raoul give up if he cannot prove who Erik really is? Will he leave him in peace ever?"
Mme. Giry sighed. "I hope so," she finally admitted. "But knowing the Vicomte, there is no guarantee. We'll have to be careful, what we say in his presence. If we show too much interest in this new project of his, for instance, he might guess that we are trying to find out how much he knows. Also," she added, as she remembered something else Raoul had said, "I think he was trying to make you doubt Erik's faithfulness. If he brings up this topic again, it would therefore be best to feign complete disinterest in this particular gossip. Can you do this?"
Christine bit her lips and tried to smile as she nodded slowly.
Mme. Giry eyed her curiously. "You didn't believe that nonsense about Erik and Miss Stanton, or did you?" she asked. "You must know that his heart is yours for all eternity, and that whatever this young lady means to him, it will never be even close to what he feels for you!"
"I know that," Christine whispered. "It's just, … " She was searching for the right words to express her feelings. "I... envy her," she finally admitted. "She can see Erik so often and discuss this new production with him, and I... all I have is a letter every few days! I miss him so!"
Mme. Giry laid a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder. "I know," she said quietly, "and he feels the same about you. But if we can throw the Vicomte off Erik's tracks, you will be able to join him in London in about a year, and then you won't have to separate from him ever again."
Xxxx
A few weeks passed, and Raoul never brought up his plans of a cooperation with London again. He did collect every letter Christine and the Girys received though, as well as all those the three ladies sent out. He was sure the seed of doubt he had planted in Christine's mind that night would grow, once she understood that she was not going to get any letters from her lover anymore. It would all make sense to her then, proving to her that the freak had indeed abandoned her for a rich heiress. Then she would be mad at her former lover, angry at his betrayal, saddened by his infidelity. That's when Raoul would make his move. It would be soon now. A few more weeks, maybe two or three months at the most, then she would be his, then he would be able to feast his eyes on her perfect, lithe dancer's body in all its naked glory, then he would be able to touch every inch of her bare skin with his hands, lips and tongue, then he could explore every part of her anatomy to his liking.
Xxxx
Christine had gotten herself a score of Mozart's "Le Nozze di Figaro" the day after her dinner with Raoul and had begun familiarizing herself with the role of Susanna. For a few days she was so busy with the music, that she did not even realize that Erik's letter was overdue. After all, it sometimes took a day or two longer for a letter to arrive. Erik also had told her in his last letter that they were close to opening night and that he would have to put in a few hours of extra work to get it all done in time for the big event which would take place in about one month. He might not have been able to get his letter to the post office before that one closed down for the night. Or maybe a storm had delayed the boat carrying the mail over the Channel. Such things happened from time to time.
But a week passed by without a letter from Erik, and Christine began to worry. Since Mme. Giry had not received a letter either, she tried to remain calm, though. Even if Raoul had spoken the truth – as inconceivable as that seemed to her – and Erik had indeed formed a closer relationship with this Amanda-Ann-girl, Christine could imagine him stopping to write to her out of embarrassment. But he most certainly would not stop writing to Mme. Giry, who was his oldest friend. No, there must be some other reason that kept him from writing, most likely his work.
Or could he be ill? In all the years she had known Erik, she could not remember him being sick ever. She could not remember one single day he had not talked to her, been there for her. Therefore the idea of him catching a cold or something similar now seemed rather ridiculous, but what if?
Mme. Giry grew a bit nervous as well, though, for Christine's sake, she tried to hide it as best she could and to pretend being confident that Erik's silence was no big deal and would eventually be explained. A letter could have gotten lost, for instance. Things like that did happen every once in a while. And of course his work had to take precedence now that the opening night of his first production was approaching. After all, it was vital that the reopening of "The Music House" be a huge success. If Erik could accomplish that, Mr. Stanton would be satisfied, raise his salary and continue to employ him. Should something go wrong, though... Erik would most certainly write to them, as soon as he could, at the very latest after the grand reopening, to tell them how everything had gone.
Christine nodded to all those explanations, tried to remain calm and to concentrate on studying the part of Susanna. Rehearsals for "Le Nozze di Figaro" had started in the meantime, and she needed to be as well prepared as possible without Erik's help in order to justify the trust the managers had shown in her by putting on such a play that would showcase her opposite of Carlotta.
But despite her best effort to think positive and to focus on her work, Christine became restless. Her cheeks turned pale and it was hard for her to hide her nervous agitation, her worry that the long silence meant something bad and sinister.
Xxxx
Erik was a mess. He had not received a letter from either Christine or Antoinette in weeks. He could not imagine what could possibly keep them from writing. True, one of them might have caught a cold, but then the other one would have informed him and explained the situation to him. They also might have been rather busy for a few days, but then that would only mean a delay in letters, not a complete stop of the correspondence. If rehearsals had kept them busy – and Erik knew from experience that by now the Opéra Populaire would have chosen the next play to perform and would be preparing for a new production - the ladies might have been a bit late in responding, but it had been two weeks now without a letter, actually more like two weeks and a half, and he was getting worried.
Could something have happened to them? Were they maybe unable to write?
Nadir had a hard time trying to calm down his nervous young friend, especially, since he himself was coming down with a flu and not feeling too well. The foggy weather in London had finally gotten to the Persian and he was constantly sneezing.
"Don't take it so hard, Erik," Nadir managed to mumble between two sneezes. "They might be in a similar situation as I am, or maybe a letter got lost, or maybe there is a strike at the French mail offices or something. This Antoinette does care for you and would not give up on you just because she has not seen you in a few months. If I remember correctly, she never lost her faith in you even when you were gone from Paris for years, not even when you came home after Persia, with psychological scars. And the Daaé-girl, well, from what you told me, she is completely smitten with you, she will not suddenly have given up on you either. Whatever is the cause of their silence, it will be explained sooner or later, you will see. You must have faith in the ladies, Erik!"
Erik sighed. "But what if," he exclaimed nervously, "what if this nasty Vicomte has made a pass at Christine? What if he has won her over and now she is ashamed of telling me?"
Nadir laughed. "That pompous fop?" he asked. "You do not really believe that any woman in her right mind would want him? Especially not a woman like your Christine, who lives and breathes music! Have faith in her and trust her!"
Erik blushed. He felt ashamed for not trusting Christine more, but there was something else that troubled him. "But what if," he whispered, "that debauched scoundrel has attacked her, dishonored her? She might feel too embarrassed to tell me, she might feel unworthy..."
Nadir nodded. That was of course a possibility. "Would you mind?" he asked cautiously. "Would you not love her anymore if something like that had happened?"
Erik stared at him. "Not love her anymore for something that is not her fault?" he exclaimed, shocked by his friend's question. "I could never stop loving her, and if he has hurt her in any way, shape or form, I would love her more, not less. I would make sure to prove to her that it does not make a difference for me, that for me she will always be the one and only!"
"Then stop worrying," Nadir informed him. "I am confident, that everything will be fine in the end. If I were not coming down with this disgusting flu right now, I would go to Paris and check on the ladies myself, just to make sure they are all right. If you have not heard from them once I will be completely recovered and fit again to travel, I might even do that, but for now, just be patient. The next letter may arrive tomorrow or the day after!"
But it didn't arrive. Not the next day or the day after. To make things worse, Nadir's illness turned out not to be just a cold or the flu, but a bad case of pneumonia, and in addition to the stressful last weeks before the reopening of "The Music House" and the fact that no matter how long he waited there were no letters from either Christine or Antoinette, Erik now had to worry about his friend as well.
Erik even had to excuse himself from his weekly Sunday dinners with the Stantons twice in a row, in order to care for his sick friend. In a way, Erik was glad he had this excuse to stay home. He felt like a nervous wreck and did not feel up to the task of light, charming conversation with Miss Stanton.
Mr. Stanton of course understood that Erik's first duty was to his sick friend, and therefore accepted his excuses, but he prayed with all his heart that Nadir would get better soon and Erik would be able to resume his weekly Sunday-visits for his daughter's sake. Mr. Stanton had observed Amanda-Ann closely over the past few weeks, and he had begun to suspect that her feelings for Erik were more than hero-worship or a passing infatuation. When Erik had come regularly every Sunday, she had blossomed, seemingly getting stronger and livelier. She was also looking forward to the opening of "her" theater, and thanks to Erik she was already familiar with the play and all its major songs. Now that Erik was unable to come for his weekly visit, Amanda-Ann had turned pale and listless, and her huge blue eyes always looked so very sad, as if every joy had gone from her life.
Carl Stanton knew that Erik's absence was the cause of this. That this man had found his way into Amanda-Ann's heart, and even though he hoped she would improve and be healthier and happier again, once Erik would resume his visits, he also began to fear that one day, such visits and the friendship Erik had to offer Amanda-Ann would not be enough for his precious girl. What would happen then? He was certain that Erik did not love his daughter that way. Could not love her that way, for what healthy, red-blooded man would fall for a sick, doomed girl like her? While he had no doubts that Erik cared deeply for Amanda-Ann, the poor father was also well aware that Erik's feelings for his daughter were those of an elderly brother or fatherly friend, that he did not see Amanda-Ann as his equal, and of course her ailment made it impossible to see her as a woman in the full sense of the word.
For the moment he need not worry, though, for Mr. Stanton was certain that Amanda-Ann did not fully understand her own feelings for his employee yet. She was still too naive, too innocent, had not quite realized what it was she felt for Erik. But once she did realize that... Mr. Stanton did not want to finish that thought. He did not want to think what it could mean to Amanda-Ann's fragile health if she had to accept that the man she loved with all her heart did not return those feelings. He hoped against hope that she would never realize what it was she was feeling for Erik, or that she would be content with his friendship once she found out, but somehow he did not see this happen. In addition to all her health problems, his daughter would have to experience the pain of unrequited love as well. That thought broke Carl Stanton's heart.
