Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, and I didn't write any of the lyrics here. Those were written by Charles Hart. Thank you for reading these incredibly obvious statements. Now back to the story!
Chapter NineteenErik worked outdoors until it was nearing the hour for the evening meal. He had seen the carriage arriving back at the main house and wondered if perhaps Christine and Madame Suzette had gone out for the day. He had found some tools in the small shed by the guest house and had begun to saw and pound away at the wood until it began to take shape. He did not have all the supplies he needed, however, and he knew that he could not simply go into town and purchase them. Perhaps Father Michel would be willing to help, he thought.
Finally, he put down his hammer and wiped his brow. Halfway finished. I had best clean myself up…it would not be proper for me to come to dinner dripping with perspiration! He went into the house and drew himself a bath.
He had tried to keep his mind off of Christine while working outside…but now that he was no longer occupied, his thoughts again betrayed him. He sank into the warm water, immersing himself much as possible, trying to relax his sore muscles. Can I truly forgive her for what she did? he wondered. Oh, God, I know that it simply isn't right for me to hold such things against her…not after You have forgiven me. But it is still so painful. "Help me to forgive her, Lord…I want to forgive her," he spoke softly. "I know that what I did…what I have done…is so much worse than what she did to me. But I am…" he paused and questioned himself. Am I afraid? Afraid to trust her again?
Erik sighed as he toweled off and dressed for dinner. Donning his fedora and cloak, he made his way to the main house. He always felt slightly nervous when he approached the house, because he was still not accustomed to socializing. However, since Christine had arrived, he noticed that his palms were sweaty much of the time, and he had difficulty thinking clearly when she was nearby.
Guillaume led him to the sitting parlor. Apparently, dinner is not yet ready, Erik thought. "Monsieur and Madame Laurent will be down momentarily, Monsieur Erik," Guillaume stated, taking his hat and cloak. "While you wait, may I offer you a brandy?"
It's about time, he thought. "Yes, I believe I could use one," he spoke dryly. He gulped it down in two swigs. Setting the glass on the end table, he stood and paced back and forth until he heard a voice in the hallway.
"Oh…yes, of course…thank you." Christine looked flustered as Guillaume led her to the parlor door. "Apparently, we are a bit early for dinner," she laughed softly, smiling sheepishly at Erik.
"Apparently," he replied flatly, raising a dark eyebrow and turning his back to her, pretending to gaze out the window. Guillaume excused himself to the dining room, leaving Erik and Christine alone.
"How…how are you today, Erik?" Christine stumbled over her words, feeling quite awkward at that moment.
"As well as I can be, I suppose. Thank you for asking," he turned to face Christine, but his expression remained blank.
Christine looked down awkwardly at the rug. He certainly doesn't need a mask to hide his emotions, does he? "I…I have been thinking about our…conversation the other evening." She looked shyly up at Erik. "H-have you?"
Erik smirked. "Of course, Christine. You must know that this situation is very difficult for me. But I have thought about what you had to say."
"And?" she questioned hopefully.
"And I believe that it is best that we remain at a distance for now."
Christine's heart sank. "W-what do you mean, Erik? This morning at breakfast, I thought..." she paused and fought back tears as her lower lip began to tremble.
"Christine, I just…I cannot do this. You are engaged to that boy, and yet you expect me to spend time with you, growing more attached as I do, with no promise of any future with you!" He clenched his fists in frustration. "Have you no heart at all?"
She stood there in shock and confusion. "Erik, I…I don't know…what to…"
"No, Christine. No! I told you that I am not the same man that you knew. This past week my life has…has changed me drastically. I will not beg at your feet like a dog for your affections! Never again! I cannot do it, because you…you have promised yourself to someone else…and I do not want someone whose heart is divided. I have loved you, and only you, for so long now…and if you cannot love only me, then I do not want you, Christine! I would rather live alone for the rest of my life." He rubbed his temple with his right hand and lowered his voice slightly. "I am sorry, Christine…but I have thought and prayed about this…"
"Prayed? You have prayed about this?" She retorted, half sobbing. "You have called me heartless and adulterous, Erik. Perhaps you should have prayed that your words could have been kinder! Excuse me…I am afraid that I am no longer hungry." Christine turned swiftly to leave the room, but Erik caught her arm.
"Christine, wait," he began, turning her around to face him. Her eyes were ablaze with fury and pooling with tears. "Christine, I…I did not mean to speak in such…anger. I apologize. I am afraid that when it comes to you, I…"
"Is everything alright in here?" Monsieur Laurent appeared at the parlor doors with a quizzical look upon his face. "What is going on?"
"Nothing," Erik replied darkly as he released Christine's arm from his grasp.
"It certainly looked like something," Monsieur Laurent replied, moving closer to him.
"No, Monsieur, I am all right," Christine spoke flatly, still facing Erik. "He was just…I was just missing my fiancé, you see, and I began to cry, and Monsieur Erik was trying to comfort me. I realize it must look improper, but I assure you, everything is fine." She turned around to face him and smiled sweetly. "I apologize, Monsieur. My emotions seem to be a bit out of sorts this week," she sniffed.
Monsieur Laurent softened. "No, Mademoiselle, you have no reason to apologize. I understand. And Monsieur Erik, I am sorry for the misunderstanding." He held out his hand in an apology. Erik grasped it. "Perfectly alright," he mumbled, reining in his emotions.
"Well, now. Shall we go in to dinner?" Monsieur Laurent smiled, relaxing.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Erik and Christine were seated next to each other at dinner again and there was an awkward silence between them…except for the occasional, "Would you please pass the salt?" and "Thank you." The tension was thick, and everyone at the table seemed to sense it. Erik left feeling rather grumpy and weary.
Christine retired to her bedroom in the house and sat on the bed, removing her shoes. Finally alone, she covered her face with her hands and wept. He will never forgive me, she thought. Oh, God, help me! I feel like part of me has died! She sobbed until she could no longer sit upright and she finally fell asleep, fully clothed, in a heap upon the bed.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Father Michel received a letter by messenger from Erik the next morning, asking him if he would consider purchasing the items listed and delivering them to the guest house on the Laurent estate. "Erik, what are you up to?" he chuckled.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Father Michel arrived at the Laurent estate at about half past noon and directed the carriage driver to go straight to the guest house. Erik greeted the old priest with a firm handshake and a pat on the back, thanking him for gathering all of the supplies so quickly and for being willing to deliver them. He insisted upon reimbursing the old man for the items, and tried to give him a little extra for his trouble, but Father Michel stubbornly refused.
"Oh, will you not just take some for yourself, Father? Or use it to purchase something for the church, perhaps? You have done so much for me." Erik insisted.
"Erik, if you want to support the church, then do so when you attend. I personally have no need of your money. All of my needs are met," Father Michel smiled.
"Very well, then," Erik grumbled. "Will you at least come in for a visit?"
The old priest looked stunned. "You mean, you actually want me to come in and talk? Why, Erik! I thought you preferred being alone, not having to listen to my incessant prattle and…off-key singing," he laughed.
"Who said that I did not prefer being alone?" Erik winked. "But, as long as you have made the trip out here, it is the least I can do for an old man such as yourself."
Just then, a servant of the Laurent house pulled up to them in a carriage. "Monsieur, Father, Madame Laurent would like to invite you both to have tea and coffee this afternoon at one o'clock. Shall I tell her to expect you?"
The priest and Erik looked at each other, wide-eyed. "How…how did she know that I was here?" Father Michel asked incredulously.
"Servants talk, Father. And they usually do not miss anything that happens around the estate," the servant chuckled heartily.
"Ah, yes, very well then," the priest winked at him. "Erik, shall we?" he glanced at Erik, who looked rather ill at ease. "Erik?"
"I leave the decision to you, Father," Erik mumbled.
"Well, then, we accept. Please tell Madame Laurent to expect us shortly," Father Michel cheerily told the servant.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Madame Laurent and Christine sat in the parlor, trying to make polite conversation, when Guillaume announced their guests. "Father Michel and Monsieur Erik, Madame," he gestured to the men as they entered.
"Thank you Guillaume. Hello, Father, lovely to see you again!" Suzette rose from the settee and held out her hand to him, smiling warmly. Christine stood and smiled at the priest as well, avoiding Erik's eyes completely.
"Thank you so much for your kind invitation, Madame," Father Michel replied. "I assume that Monsieur Laurent is in town on business?"
"Yes, of course. And Amêlie is upstairs doing her studies with her tutor." She turned her gaze to Erik. "Monsieur Erik, nice to see you as well," Suzette smiled at him and motioned for them to be seated in the two armchairs across from the settee.
Father Michel studied Christine. "Mademoiselle Daae, you look well. Have you been enjoying your stay?"
"Yes, Father, thank you for asking," she replied, hoping that he wouldn't notice her lack of enthusiasm.
"Splendid, splendid." There was an uneasy silence. Father Michel glanced at Erik, who was looking rather uncomfortable in his armchair, his jaw tense and his eyes cast downward. "So…have you and Monsieur Erik had a chance to get acquainted during your stay?"
Christine nearly choked. "I…I…we…yes, we have shared…meals together."
"Ah, well, then, I assume that you two have had a chance to talk about many things, yes?" Father Michel glanced between Erik and Christine expectantly.
"No…I…we haven't really…" Christine stammered.
Erik spoke curtly. "No, Father, we have only shared meals together, but very little polite conversation." If you only knew how little, he thought.
"Tea or coffee, gentlemen?" Suzette smiled at the two men. "Tea, please," Father Michel replied. Erik remained silent and nodded instead. Suzette poured them each a cup of tea. "Allow me to assist you in getting to know each other! I simply must tell you both that Christine is a wonderful singer. Come, now, darling, there is no need to be ashamed." She patted Christine's arm.
Christine looked as if she were about to be sick. "No…no, Madame, I don't think that…"
"Oh, come now, Christine!" Suzette laughed. "Erik, this young lady was the prima donna at the Populaire for a short time, weren't you, ma cherie?" she said sweetly.
"Oh?" Father Michel asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes, Father," Suzette answered. "I heard her sing once and she was lovely!"
Erik sat motionless, his eyes riveted on his teacup, which still sat untouched on the table before him. Father Michel cleared his throat.
"So…you…you must be…very talented, Mademoiselle. I was sorry to hear of the…the fire that occurred at the Populaire recently," the old priest stammered to Christine, trying to think of something to say as his mind began to furiously put the pieces of the puzzle together at last.
"Thank you, Father. It has been a very difficult time…for all of us," Christine replied nervously.
"Difficult indeed," Suzette replied. "But I'm certain that it will be rebuilt in no time, don't you think? Especially with the help of Christine's fiancé." She beamed.
"Her fiancé?" Father Michel asked, gulping his tea. He could see Erik out of the corner of his eye. His hands were gripping the armrests of the chair, his fingers pressed firmly into the upholstery.
"Yes, she is to be married to our friend, the Viscomte de Chagny, who is the new patron of the Populaire! He is a wonderful young man." She paused, oblivious to the tension growing between all other parties in the room. "Christine, darling, might you consider gracing us with a song?" Suzette smiled.
Father Michel's eyes darted to Christine, who looked as though she were about to faint.
Erik finally looked up as well, studying Christine's face as she struggled to stay conscious.
"Christine?" Suzette repeated. Christine met her gaze. "Yes, Madame?"
"Christine, I asked if you might sing a song for all of us. Come now, you can do it! Your voice is marvelous! Do it as a favor to me, please?" Suzette patted Christine's arm again, and it was beginning to annoy her.
Christine sat in stunned silence, trying to breathe. She frantically looked at Erik who quickly averted his gaze to the floor. She then turned her eyes to Father Michel, who was smiling sheepishly.
Suzette was beginning to grow impatient. She frowned. "Christine, is something wrong? Perhaps…perhaps Monsieur Erik might provide some accompaniment for you, if you are uncomfortable singing a cappella. Would you, Monsieur?"
Erik turned an icy stare to Madame Laurent. "If it will pacify you for the moment, then yes, perhaps."
Suzette was taken aback, and she closed her mouth, staring at Erik, wide-eyed. Father Michel had no idea what to do with himself. This is not at all what I had expected when I accepted this invitation.
Erik stood. "Shall we?" he said frigidly, as he motioned to the hallway with his arm.
Christine stood, feeling slightly dizzy, as she made her way after Erik to the library, followed by Father Michel and Madame Suzette. Erik seated himself at the piano bench, and Christine stood near him, as the others seated themselves opposite them.
"What will you sing?" Suzette asked, still on edge from Erik's coldness, but feeling rather excited at the prospect of being entertained. "Perhaps that lovely number from the opera I saw…what was it…Hannibal?"
Christine froze. "You don't mean the aria…the aria f-from the…the third act?"
"Yes, well, I believe so. Such a sweet and poignant song...something about "thinking of me" and such. Won't you do that one for us?" Suzette folded her hands in her lap and exhaled, closing her eyes as if to prepare herself for the listening experience.
Christine looked at Erik. "Are…are you familiar with that particular opera, Monsieur?" As if he isn't. His fingers were poised over the piano keys, but he did not look up at her. His shoulders were tense and his back straight. He nodded in reply. She sighed. "Whenever you are ready," she said softly.
Erik began to play. Christine closed her eyes and nearly wept at the sound. She took a deep breath and prayed that she would not have an emotional collapse during the song. She began:
Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye
Remember me once in a while; please promise me you'll try
When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me.
We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember, stop and think of me
Think of all the things we've shared and seen
Don't think about the way things might have been
Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned
Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind
Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day when I won't think of you…Christine faltered slightly at the last note, attempting to hold back her tears. She gripped the sides of her dress with tight fists and bowed her head. Erik noticed that she had stopped singing, so he resolved the chord and removed his fingers from the piano keys.
Suzette opened her eyes and applauded. Father Michel sat staring at Erik and Christine, knowing that this was not the first time that they had made music together. He could see it in their faces and read it in their bodies. He looked to Erik's face and saw that his mouth was set in a thin line and his brow furrowed—he looked as if he were in extreme pain.
Christine's head was still bowed, eyes closed, a stray tear trailing down her cheek.
Father Michel stood and stepped toward Christine, laying a hand on her shoulder. He spoke gently. "Mademoiselle, your voice is exquisite. You must have had a wonderful teacher." He glanced at Erik, who stared up at him, his mouth agape. The old priest smiled at him. "I believe I should be going now. Erik, would you mind seeing me out?"