Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2006

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Fifty-Seven – Mistaken Identity

I sit in the rickety chair of M. Delibes' office watching life pass by the Conservatoire. For the smallest instant of time, I had seen his pure joy before finding myself here once more. My eyes turn to seek out the man I so desperately adore. He stands as a part of the group of men gathered around M. Delibes' desk deep in their discussion of the libretto. Erik leans over with his elbows on the desk, but he straightens and turns to me just as my eyes seek him. His eyes meet mine.

"I love you." He mouths the words and I hear his voice echoing inside my head.

He cocks his head for a moment, blinks and his voice comes into my mind again.

"We love you, ma chère cœur!"

With an almost imperceptible shake of my head, I silently reply, "Erik, I love you and there is only you."

"Thank you, Christine. You have saved me in more ways and more times than you will ever know."

"As you have done for me, mon amour. Back to work! I think I'll go for a walk."

I rise and glance at my skirt. I smile happy that my skirt is undamaged.

"Gentlemen, I believe I will go for a walk around the Conservatoire while you work out the details. M. de Mornay, please do not forget our engagement this evening. Curtain is at 9:00 p.m. and I would like to dine before the production." I incline my head slightly. "Gentlemen, it has been an honor making your acquaintances. I wish you a productive meeting, excuse me."

I spend the next several hours wandering about the Conservatoire. The music I hear as I walk by the different salons and theaters is astounding. This is a place where I feel very much out of my league. My stomach growls. I haven't eaten since breakfast and decide to take a look outside to see if there is anywhere I might find something to eat. I walk outside and find I have about an hour left before sunset. I stop at our horses and retrieve my cloak from my saddle pack. I toss it about me and tie it. Then I turn my attention to the buildings surrounding the Conservatoire. I sigh. Don't artists eat? I giggle. How 21st century of me to be expecting fast food. The nondescript neighborhood of Noon has entered the golden hour just before sunset and all of the buildings appear as burnished brass.

"Just lovely." I murmur.

"Yes, you are."

My eyes remain on the golden tableau as I lean back briefly, pressing my body against his. My hand snakes to his face and caresses his cheek. I freeze and my hand recoils from the face it touches. The wrong face! And then, not wishing to make a scene, I step away from this stranger I touched.

"Why, Mademoiselle how forward of you!"

"I beg your pardon, monsieur. I mistook you for someone else." I turn around.

A sharp inhalation of breath becomes a quiet cry of dismay and horror when I find it is not Erik standing behind me, but Phillipe Gille. I feel the evidence of my embarrassment as a blush burns across my face. My mind immediately seeks out Erik. He is still in the office upstairs.

"Erik, I need you to come right away! Please!"

"What's happened, ma épouse?"

"I was admiring the view and not paying attention. I've pretty much been on empathic overload the last few days, so I shut that part of me away in the cottage. I enjoyed the visual. You know the colors, shapes and textures of the moment. I whispered aloud, but to myself that the view was "just lovely." I heard a voice reply, "yes, you are." I thought it was you behind me, so I leaned back and caressed what I thought was your cheek. As soon as I touched that cheek, I knew it was not you! I turned and to my everlasting horror, found it was M. Gille! I am so upset! Please come! I am so sorry to interrupt you, but I don't feel comfortable when I'm near him. He makes my skin crawl! It never crossed my mind that anyone other than you would pay attention to me that way."

"I am on my way. Where are you, Christine!"

Looking up into a very amused pair of deep blue eyes.

"I'm standing on the sidewalk in front of the Rue Sainte-Cécile entrance."

"Monsieur, I humbly beg your forgiveness! I … I … was expecting someone else."

"Well, Mademoiselle, I am so disappointed. For a moment, I hoped that your affections were for me. I am most jealous of this "someone else." Perhaps, you will join me for dinner and allow me to convince you of my worthiness as a suitor."

"I must decline your kind offer. My evening is already promised to another."

"Erik!"

"May I inquire as to whether or not your guardian will allow a gentleman to call on you? Possibly court you?"

"My guardian is not currently in Paris. Jean-Paul instructed me that I am not to entertain any gentlemen unless he is present. I gladly acquiesce to his wishes. However, monsieur, I must also inform you in the plainest words possible, I do not wish to receive any callers at this point in time. My heart belongs to another."

"Now, now! You are much too young to waste your favors on just one man." His voice is dark and oily. It holds none of the beauty or enchantment of my husband's voice. This man is one of the most handsome and at the same time, one of the most repulsive creatures I have ever met. He makes me feel thoroughly unclean.

For a moment I am too stunned and have absolutely no idea how to reply. His words go way beyond the border of crude rudeness. My fear of him pushed aside by my intense dislike, which grows stronger each moment I am in his lecherous presence. My mouth opens and words rush out before I can stop them. I speak (as always) from my heart.

"Monsieur," I reply coldly, "I spoke of my heart. The thing of which you speak is that which you can purchase in a bordel. My heart is not for sale nor is my body. If you have even the slightest bit of honor or decency in you, you will remove yourself from my sight and speak to me no more."

He hisses and roughly grabs my wrist.

"Little bitch! You are in need of a good fuck! And I am just the one to give it to you!"

He begins to drag me towards a carriage. I resist my instinctive reaction and do not fight him. Instead, I decide to meet his attack with a feint. My eyes roll up and I collapse to the pavement.

The man swears and then as he bends to pick me up, I slip my hand beneath my skirt, into my boot and withdraw one of my knives. As his arm wraps around my waist, I quickly bring the point up and gently press it into the base of his chin.

"Speak one more word of disrespect to me, monsieur and it will be your last. Now, let me go!"

My words ring out strong and clear with no sign of weakness. The man ceases to move as he realizes a knife presses into his flesh. I twist the blade just enough to knick him and draw blood.

"I will make this request one more time. Remove your hands from my person IMMEDIATELY!"

His hands remain glued to my body, so I push the tip of the blade deeper. The blade draws the skin dangerously taut. The blade requires only the slightest increase in pressure to pierce his flesh. He feels this and as understanding dawns in his mind, his hands fall feebly away from my body. I roll away from him and stand.

"Perhaps you have learned something today. Perhaps not. Not all women are whores. And whether they are or no, no one deserves treatment like this, no one! Now, GO!"

My final word spurs him into action and he runs to his carriage. Just as he opens the door of his carriage, I hear the doors of the Conservatoire flung open behind me.

"CHRISTINE!"

My eyes remain fixed on the movements of the creature (I refuse to call it a man) that scrambles into its carriage. The carriage door slams shut and a muffled order given to the driver. The driver nods and with a flick of the reins the carriage speeds away. The last I see of the creature is a pale white face peeking out the curtains of the carriage. The carriage turns a corner. It is gone. I realize I had been holding my breath and decide that breathing would be a good thing to do. I allow my shoulders to relax as I take deep breaths through my nose and release them through my mouth.

And then, his arms are around me.

"Oh, Erik!"

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Just a moment, mon mari aimé."

I loosen his embrace, bend over and slip my knife back into my boot. As I straighten, I fight the urge to wiggle my bottom against Erik. Standing once more, I draw his arms about me tightly. I sigh.

"I feel like such a fool."

"What happened?"

And so I tell him, simply with no embellishments and leaving nothing out.

"I feel like such an ass, Erik. The thought of someone else speaking to me that way, well, if you had asked me before this happened I would have said the idea was absurd. I had my guard up and was lost in the moment. When he spoke, my only thought was that everything was perfect because you were with me. And then, everything went to hell. I am so sorry!"

I realize that I'm babbling to cover Erik's silence. The shock of my unfortunate encounter catches up with me and I begin to do the one thing I despise the most...

I begin to cry.