Gustave used his key to open the stage door to Phantasma's theatre. Ever the young gentleman, he held it open for both Rose and Anne. Even back here his mother's voice could be heard as they headed towards the wings. By the time they were watching from the wings, George, who was playing opposite his mother, was singing his verse. When they reached the wings and were fully engaged in watching the rehearsal, they were singing together, at the peak of this duet.
"It sounds different when she sings it with my father," Gustave leaned in and whispered in Rose's ear.
"It's beautiful," Rose whispered. "So sad, yet romantic."
As their voices and music ended, some applause erupted from the house along with the wings. Christine looked over to see the three in the wings and smiled. She waved them over and opened her arms, the fabric of her Grecian Chiton flowing around her. The Soprano embraced her son, "Just like your father, sneaking around back stage. Yet worse you have accomplices." She kissed his forehead.
He broke away flustered, "Mother, please!"
Christine smiled, "I forgot. You are a young man now and this young lady here is the only one allowed to kiss you. Your lips are swollen, so do not try and tell me you haven't stolen kisses. It seems Anne is better at lacing my corsets than watching you."
Anne went to speak but Rose cut her off, eyes full of fear, "Mrs. Y, you're not going to tell my mother, are you? Or banish Gustave from seeing me? That wouldn't be fair considering…" She gasped cutting herself off.
"Considering what?" Christine, arched an eyebrow as she looked at the girl. The Diva knew exactly what she was going to mention. She adjusted the floral wreath on her head, "Repeating gossip, Rose is not very becoming of a young lady."
"You are correct, Mrs. Y," Rose tilted her head down.
Christine tilted the girl's chin up and smiled at her, "But you are correct in your thinking. Our secret."
"I thought we were in rehearsal!" Erik's voice called from the house. "Gustave if you want to watch you sit down here with us!"
As the group headed towards the stage ladder, Christine grabbed Anne's arm, "Sit between them. Rose's parents are watching rehearsal."
"Alright, back in places from the top! You were a little flat, George. Fix that please."
Matilda sucked on the nipple of a bottle as Erik held her in his arms on the Parlor couch.
"Hold her head up higher," Christine leaned over and adjusted the infant in her husband's arms.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Erik's eyes were focused intently on the baby's mouth and bottle.
"I am fatigued, Erik. Switching her to bottle at night will make things easier. You will be able to feed her as well so I can get more sleep."
"But is it going to work?" he asked again. "She is such a healthy baby; will this weaken her? Mother's milk is always best if it is there. Shall we keep the wet nurse on full time?"
"That is my milk in the bottle, Erik," Christine sighed as she leaned back on the couch.
"Let me feed Matilda," Charlotte who had been sitting on the Persian Run, pushed her way between her parents on the couch, kneeling between them. She pulled the bottle from her father's hand.
"Charlotte!" Both exclaimed as the baby began to fuss.
The little girl quickly had the nipple back in Matilda's mouth, even holding it at a better angle. "You have nothing to cry about, Matilda. You weren't called ugly today."
Phantom and Soprano exchanged furrowed brows before looking down at their daughters.
"Charlotte, what happened today?" Christine twirled her fingers through her daughter's light hair.
"Dada was talking to his friend and women on the carousel said I was ugly. That it was nice they let the freak children out and play." Charlotte's cheeks puffed up and turned red, "I am not a freak! I am cute like Matilda!" She pushed the bottle harder, the nipple going further into the baby's mouth.
The infant squirmed as milk poured out her nose and mouth.
"Charlotte stop, you're hurting her!" Erik tugged the bottle from her little hand and tossed it to the floor. Milk and vomit were spit up all over his waistcoat and shirt as he brought Matilda to his shoulder and patted her back. Matilda's wail now echoed through the whole room as Erik walked around his hand going back and forth between patting and rubbing the infant's back.
Charlotte had rolled back into her mother's lap and was looking right up at her. There were tears in Christine's eyes as she scooped her daughter into her arms. "Oh Charlotte, look with your heart. You know you are beautiful. We know you are beautiful. You are not a freak."
The girl wrapped her arms around her mother's neck, crying as she rested the deformed side of her face against her shoulder, "Can have a mask like Dada?"
"NO!" The Phantom's voice now boomed through the room. He sat back down on the couch, putting a pacifier into Matilda's mouth. His eyes met Charlotte's, "You will never wear a mask, darling!"
Charlotte's face got redder and wetter, "Then why you wear one?" She let go of her mother and turned to her father, her body shaking with every breath. "Then you get called ugly with me!" Both her little hands pulled at his mask but when she could not completely free it from his head, growls escaped the back of her throat.
Erik closed his eyes and finished removing it and then handed it to her. Tears streamed down his cheeks, "I am so sorry, Charlotte."
Mask in her hands, Charlotte slipped off the couch and ran out of the room.