The first few days of married life were not what Christine would have expected. Of course, when she had been a small child imagining herself as a bride, she had not exactly pictured herself marrying for convenience, much less marrying for her career. But even if this was the situation that she had always expected, she would not have known what the first days of her new life would look like. She would wake before dawn in her beautiful, comfortable room, her body still insisting that she needed to rise and get ready for a job she no longer had. After trying unsuccessfully to ease her restlessness and return to sleep, she would resign herself to being awake and would wash and dress. After her first night here, she had started making an effort to get used to wearing her new silk dresses most days—Erik had gone through the trouble of ordering them for her, and anyway, they would never start to feel like her own clothes if she never wore them. Then she would settle in the comfortable chair by the window and look out onto the garden below her until the maid arrived with her breakfast.
Erik kept a very minimal staff—something she'd assured him several times that she had no objection to—consisting of only a maid, a cook, and a driver, all of whom were only there at certain hours and all of whom seemed to avoid direct contact with Erik as much as possible. Louise, the maid, was a shy young woman who made herself so scarce that Christine might have questioned her existence if not for the tidiness of the house and the couple of times during the day that she happened to see her. Louise had appeared not to know what to do the first time she had carried in Christine's breakfast tray only to find her up and already dressed.
"You needn't struggle with your hair and clothes yourself, ma'am," she'd said quietly. "Part of my duties are to assist you."
"Of course," Christine replied, shifting in her seat and trying to dispel the awkwardness gathering in her chest. She wondered how long it would take her to get used to being the employer of a girl who would have been her peer only a week ago. "I suppose I'm just stuck in my old habits."
"I can imagine it's been an adjustment. But you will let me know if you want anything."
"I will, Louise. Thank you." Christine nearly asked if she might sit with her for a while, but the words caught in her throat and Louise surely would have found it highly irregular, and so she ate her breakfast alone.
For much of the day Erik was kept busy by the opera and either remained ensconced in his study or was out taking meetings or reviewing progress on the reconstruction of the opera house. Christine had expected as much coming into this new life—in the short time she'd known Erik, it had become quite clear that he was a man who threw himself into his ventures with great passion and dedication, and even if this hadn't been the case, she knew she could hardly have expected him to constantly be at her disposal. This meant, however, that she was left to her own devices for most of the day and, no longer having a job to go to, she struggled to find ways of filling her time. It wasn't her place to help clean the house or prepare the meals, and she quickly found that leisure made her feel quite useless. The first morning was spent exploring the house, getting a feel for where everything was. But Erik's home, while certainly large and not lacking any comforts that she could think of, was not like one of the sprawling mansions that lined Fifth Avenue, and so it wasn't long before she had to look for a new diversion.
Eventually she found herself in the small room just past Erik's study that he had presented to her as the library. In truth there was little to the space but books. Tall mahogany bookcases lined every wall, leaving little room for anything but the chair and side table that sat in the center of the room. Christine browsed the books carefully, surprised by the variety of subjects contained in Erik's collection. She only found a handful of novels, but there were many volumes of poetry to entice her. There were books on history and art, on places that she had never even heard of, on architecture and medicine and languages. The diagrams in the architectural books intrigued her as she flipped through them, although the pages were filled with words she did not understand and passages she could not make sense of. She resolved to read these anyway, to work through them all until she did understand. It wasn't as if she had anything else pressing to do.
The afternoons were the times she really looked forward to. Erik had set aside more time for their lessons, and when their scheduled time came, she would make her way to his study and find the door ajar, inviting her in. Something about stepping into that room always made her feel a little easier, a little steadier. This had been their routine for as long as they had known each other, and returning to it now felt natural. The lessons, this relationship, was something familiar in the midst of all this change.
Erik would always be behind his desk, looking up from the work in front of him as she came in. And although he tended to be stiff and reserved, even now that they had agreed to spend their lives together, something about him always seemed to soften just a little bit and the corners of his mouth would quirk in a small smile.
"Good afternoon, Christine."
"Good afternoon." Perhaps it was only because the last few days had had so little contact with others, but she was finding that she quite liked the way he said her name.
"How are you today?" He had started asking her this after she had agreed to marry him, and the question was always a little timid, as if he wasn't sure it was his place to ask.
"Well, thank you. I have just been exploring your library." Christine hoped that she did not betray the boredom and loneliness that were creeping in—she would hate to appear ungrateful for everything he was giving her. "And you?"
"Better now that I can turn to a much more pleasant task," he said, standing and coming around to the piano, and her smile grew a little.
It was odd to think that the man she had barely come to know as her teacher was now her husband. He was certainly true to his word that this would be a marriage in name only—he was every bit as kind and generous toward her as he had always been, but he made sure to keep his distance. If she had not asked him to have supper with her, she doubted that she would ever see him outside of their lessons. He'd seemed surprised when she had asked him to continue sharing the meal with her after that first night when things had been so uncertain and uncomfortable.
She had kept her steps silent as she emerged from her room and made her way downstairs, although she'd known that this was technically her home now and she should not feel such an intense need to be as unobtrusive as possible. The dining room was near Erik's study, just beyond the parlor that she had never seen occupied by anyone, and Erik was already seated when she'd arrived. He had seemed absorbed in some paperwork but looked up immediately when she entered. She had noticed that he, too, had changed out of the fine suit he had worn to the church, and it was a relief to find him in his normal clothes. As if she was sitting down to have supper with her teacher and not her husband.
"Are you… settling in?" Erik had asked as she took a seat across from him.
"I am, thank you." She'd both wanted to say more and wanted to stay silent, and she wavered a moment between the two. "I do love the room—it's just perfect. It was kind of you to make such an effort for me."
He'd looked down at the table, giving a half-shrug. "I wanted you to be comfortable."
There had not been a chance to reply before Louise came in carrying the platters of food, and Christine had filled her plate eagerly, suddenly ravenously hungry. For a short time, then, she'd been happy enough to eat in silence, her gaze occasionally flicking up from her plate to the man at the other end of the table. He ate with more caution than she did, and she'd been reminded of the caution and severity he'd displayed at their first few lessons. While far from behaving casually now, that severity had started to ease a little. At least it had until that night.
It had occurred to her suddenly just how little she knew about Erik. Of course this was not the first time the thought had occurred to her—truthfully, it had caused her quite a bit of concern while she had considered his proposal—but sitting here with him now, it hit her afresh. This time, though, the thought did not concern her. It amused her. It was a little absurd, really. Maybe it was just an effect of her tired mind, but it actually seemed a little funny, and she hadn't quite been able suppress a smile.
Erik had noticed. "What is it?"
Christine's smile had grown despite her effort to reign in this burst of hysterical humor. "Perhaps we ought to get to know each other a little now."
A second had passed as he observed her, and then the corners of his mouth had twitched, as if the absurdity of the whole situation was dawning on him too. "Well then, Miss Daae, please tell me about yourself."
Christine had thought for a moment. "My mother and father came here to escape the famine in Sweden, when they were expecting me. They had only been in the country for a few months when I was born, and my mother died shortly after from complications. My father raised me alone and, as you know, was the concertmaster at the Academy for a number of years. He was already ill by the time further seasons were cancelled, so we moved to the country for his health. Eventually he passed and I was taken in by an older couple we'd become close with. I stayed with them until they were both gone too, and I came back to the city about a year ago to pursue singing."
"So you have always wanted to perform?"
"For as long as I can remember." The talk of her father and Mama and Professor Valerius had made that unpleasant tightness start to rise in her chest, and she had taken a small sip of her wine to ease it. "And you?"
Erik had shifted in his chair, clearly hesitant—the strangely jovial mood that had started this conversation was quickly disappearing, leaving an odd feeling that was much more difficult to discern. When he'd started to speak, his words were halting.
"I was born in a small town outside of Baltimore—my mother's family home, where everyone knew and cared for her. She raised me on her own and never talked about my father." He'd stopped and swallowed, his discomfort so palpable that it was enough to draw Christine's attention away from her own. She could only imagine what caused him such intense distress. Perhaps it was his relationship with his mother, or the absence of his father, or the childhood accident that had supposedly left him scarred, or a million other things that she could not even begin to guess at. She couldn't just sit here and let him suffer, though.
"How did you come to work at the opera?" she'd asked, hoping that that would be a more bearable topic.
He had looked at her for a moment as though processing what she had said, as though his mind was returning to the present from a great distance. And then the relief visibly came over him as he was able to put aside whatever thoughts had been tormenting him. "I…" he'd paused, collecting himself a bit more. "I play the violin and I used to play on street corners when I could find no other work, which was most of the time. No one wants to hire a man whose face they have not seen," he'd added, gesturing to the mask. "Eventually the right people heard me and began inviting me to play at their social gatherings. It was meant to be as an amusing oddity at the start, I suppose. But I gradually became more involved in the set, and eventually I secured a job at the Metropolitan Opera—still a relatively new company at the time. Since then I've done my best to make my passion and my skill known and to advise wherever possible, and when the fire last year led to changes in the leadership of the company, I had a small number of important people pushing for me to be made the musical director."
Christine had noticed him becoming a little more relaxed as he spoke, and from there they had kept their conversation to music and the company and the upcoming season—topics that were safe and easy enough for both of them. They had managed to pass the rest of the meal agreeably enough, but she had still seen the way Erik had straightened with surprise when she'd asked if they might continue to share supper whenever his work did not prevent him from doing so. If he'd had any misgivings about the request, he had agreed despite them, and they had met for those tentative, cautious meals every night since.
Still, the time that they spent together was only a small fraction of the day. The majority of her time was empty and solitary, and perhaps those hours of milling around on her own resulted in the new rigor with which she found herself approaching their lessons. She supposed it could have started before the wedding, but the longer she worked with Erik, the more energy she could feel herself bringing to the lessons. It was invigorating. She put every ounce of herself into her singing, and the harder she worked and the more her enthusiasm shone through, the more pleased Erik seemed to be, and then she was feeding off his excitement as well as her own. There was nothing she looked forward to more than the start of rehearsals, and she sometimes had to restrain herself from pestering Erik too much for more information about the new season. Soon her days would be full and active again, and she would be preparing to sing on stage just like she had always dreamed of doing. If she improved enough, maybe next season Erik would consider her for a small role, although there was always a twinge of doubt when she hoped for this. If her lessons with Erik had taught her anything about him, it was that he was extremely exacting and knew precisely what he wanted. He was never harsh when he corrected her, but he had to correct her often enough that she had a difficult time imaging that she would live up to his standards anytime soon.
Knowing this did not discourage her, though; if anything, it had the opposite effect. Now that she could see the path to her dream so clearly ahead of her, she would not be deterred from it.
So she was surprised when, after they had finished their lesson for the day, Erik lingered at the piano, opening his mouth as though there was something he wanted to say but he was still searching for the correct words. "I… I wanted to tell you that I am very pleased with the progress you're making," he said.
"Oh." It took a second for Christine to process the unexpected praise. "Thank you."
"I know that I can be… demanding," he continued. "But it is only because I feel strongly that you have incredible potential. And the improvement that you have made in such a short time confirms that. You are doing wonderfully."
For a moment she could not think of anything to say, so she said the first words that came to mind. She immediately wished she hadn't. "Why are you telling me this?"
To her relief, he did not seem offended by the implication that she was so shocked by his kind words; rather, his lips quirked in that tentative but genuine half-smile that she had come to recognize.
"I thought that you deserve to know. I can imagine that this adjustment has been difficult for you—I admit that it has been for me as well—and I wanted to… well, I suppose, encourage you." His words grew hastier and quieter as he spoke, as if he was not sure that he should be saying them. But Christine found that they had just their intended effect, relaxing something in her chest that she hadn't even realized had been tense.
"I appreciate that," she told him gently. "It has been… a rather big adjustment, these past few days."
"Are you comfortable?" he ventured. "Is there anything I can provide to make you feel more at home?"
"No, you have already given me plenty," she assured him. "I suppose it will just take some time to get used to all of this."
"Are you… happy?" he asked cautiously.
She almost started to say that yes, she was perfectly happy, that she had no reason not to be. But there was something in Erik's gaze, intense and direct but soft, that made her reconsider.
"I am adjusting," she said. "I find that I have difficulty knowing what to do during the day—it has been a very long time since I did not have work or someone to care for. But I do enjoy having your company."
"You do?" He seemed surprised by this.
"I do." She added quickly, "Although please do not feel like you must entertain me. I know that you are busy, and I'm sure that having me around disrupts you as it is."
A moment passed in silence while he looked at her as though he was not able to read her. She wondered if she had said something wrong, if perhaps despite her insistence that he did not need to entertain her, he now felt obligated to. She opened her mouth to assure him again that there really was no need for him to do more for her than he had already done, that it truly was just a matter of allowing herself more time to adjust to her new life, but he spoke up before she could.
"Perhaps you would like to take a walk with me after supper. I find the streets quite pleasant at night when they have quieted down."
"Yes," Christine agreed quickly, happy at both the fact that she had not upset him and the invitation to get out of the house for a while. "Yes, that sounds very nice."
"Very well," Erik said, his lips quirking again. She had never seen him smile fully, but she found his little half-smiles strangely endearing.
The span of time between their lesson and supper usually left Christine feeling listless. She would usually wander from room to room, picking up a book or the bit of embroidery that she had brought with her but almost immediately putting it down again. Tonight, though, she found that the promise of having something pleasant to do made the time pass a little more easily. She met Erik for supper as usual and was pleased to find that the meal felt a little more comfortable than the previous ones, a little less stilted and on-edge. She supposed that, despite her own desire to be polite and modest, she had always appreciated the moments when he had been frank with her, so perhaps he felt the same. Perhaps it was all the trying that made everything feel so difficult.
The thought had settled in her mind by the time she was fastening her bonnet in place while Erik waited at her side. When she was ready, he offered his arm—another surprise, as he had never been one to initiate any kind of physical contact with her, aside from the chaste kiss to her forehead on their wedding day. She gave him a smile and rested her hand on the crook of his arm, and they set out into the warm night.
"You were right," Christine told him as they walked down the block. "It's lovely when it's quiet like this." She wasn't sure she had ever seen the city so peaceful. The area around the boarding house had seemed to always be active and full of people. But now only a few people dotted the street here and there, only the occasional carriage rolling by in the glow of the streetlamps. The air was pleasantly warm with the beginning of summer, before the heat truly soaked into the city.
"I am glad you think so."
Christine hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Erik, may I ask you something?"
She could feel the muscles of his arm tense under her hand, and when he replied, his voice was tighter than before. "Of course."
"Are you happy? With this situation, I mean… You don't regret it, do you?"
He considered for a few steps before answering. "As you said earlier today, it is an adjustment. I am used to being alone, and simply your presence in the house is… quite different for me. But I do not regret anything. While I may not have fully been prepared for the reality of this arrangement, I do still believe that it will be worth it for both of us."
"I agree," Christine said softly, before adding, "So you do not feel like I am intruding?"
"No, I do not. In fact, I… I enjoy your company too."
The words were spoken so faintly that she almost wondered if she had misheard him. He didn't seem like he particularly enjoyed her company—he often seemed like he was trying to avoid her as much as possible—but perhaps he was only nervous or uncertain, just as she was. This was new territory for them both, after all.
"I always felt quite alone at the boarding house," she told him. "It was the first place I lived after my guardian died, the first time I had lived without a family member. The other women there were perfectly friendly most of the time, but I always felt lonely. Even Meg could not always lift me out of it. So I am… happy to have someone. Even if we still both need time to adjust."
Erik gave a slow nod, taking in what she had said. They passed underneath a streetlamp and the light made the mask glow while his eyes were concealed in shadows. She often wondered what was hidden beneath, what was so terrible that it must be concealed at all times. It may have been unusual for a woman to marry for the sake of her career, but surely it was far stranger for a woman to have never seen her husband's face.
"I have not had anyone since I was a young boy. I suppose I was lonely for a while, but eventually it just left me and I did not want anyone anymore. I must admit that I feared sharing my home with you would be irritating. But I am finding that perhaps there is a certain… comfort to it."
Christine smiled and tightened her grip on his arm just a little, although she did not look at him as they continued to walk. "I believe I have been afraid," she said softly. "Afraid of what this life, this choice, would mean. Afraid that I would find that I had not properly thought this through. But I do not want to live the remainder of my life tiptoeing around you, and I certainly do not want you to feel the need to tiptoe around me. I think we ought to be honest and candid with each other."
She could feel his eyes on her and finally looked up at him when she had finished speaking. The words were indelicate, going against every instinct that warned her to tread cautiously with Erik. Something about his guardedness seemed to raise a similar quality in her—or maybe it had been in her for a long time, and she was only now recognizing it. Either way, she was tired of such paralyzing caution. She held her breath as she waited for Erik's response.
"I think I would like that."
It felt as though the words had lifted a weight from her shoulders, something that had been there so long that she had grown used to the burden. She wasn't sure how long they continued to walk, just wandering aimlessly up and down the streets, sometimes speaking and sometimes only listening to the night around them. But by the time they returned to the house, Christine could not remember feeling more refreshed, as though some vital part of her had been replenished.