Disclaimer: You know the drill. I only own my original characters, everyone. None of whom could ever compare to the complexity and beauty of Erik!
Chapter Thirty-Four
The three ladies left the seamstress shop, with Meg and Christine giggling the entire walk to the café. They all entered and quieted long enough to place their orders with the waitress, and Madame Giry wasted no time in pressing Christine for information.
"So…would you mind sharing exactly why you are working for my old friend in a seamstress shop? And where is the Viscomte?"
Meg stared at her mother in horror. "Maman, you act as though Christine has done something wrong! Has she?"
"No, of course not, ma cherie. But I am a bit befuddled by all of this. Christine, please, tell us what has happened."
Christine lowered her eyes to the table and pursed her lips. She didn't know where to begin. Sighing, she decided that the simplest way was to just come out with it. "I…I have broken my engagement to Raoul, and I needed a place to live and work. Madame Dubois was kind enough to give me both." Everyone at the table was suddenly silent. After a long pause, Christine looked up into Madame Giry's eyes, which were wide with shock. "Madame? Are you all right? Per-perhaps I should explain."
"I should think so, ma cherie," Madame Giry responded slowly, as if in a daze.
"You see, Raoul went away on business, and I was left to stay with some family friends of his. While I was there, I…I realized that I did not love Raoul as a wife should love a husband, and I did not feel that it was right to remain engaged to him. And as for being employed with a seamstress…well, Marie from the Populaire had been teaching me a few things here and there, and since I obviously can never sing in this city again…" she trailed off, tears springing to her eyes. "I had no idea where to find you, or I would have come to you first! It was so difficult for me, when Raoul asked me to leave, that I--"
"He asked you to leave?" Meg cried, loudly enough to disturb the patrons around her.
"Shhh! Meg, keep your voice down, for heaven's sake!" Madame Giry scolded her. "Christine, I need to know something." She furrowed her brow. "You seemed so much in love with the Viscomte…how did you come to this 'realization' about your feelings toward him?"
Christine shifted nervously in her chair, glancing around her at the other patrons. Finally, her eyes settled on Madame Giry's. "Madame, do you not know?" she asked quietly, casting a knowing glance at the older woman.
Madame Giry stared at her, her mouth gaping slightly. "No! Christine, no! It can't…you can't possibly…tell me it isn't true!"
"It is true, Madame. I…I have been in love with him for so long, but I refused to see it until recently. And you know of whom I speak, do you not? I suspect that you have had a rather unusual relationship with him for quite some time." She raised an eyebrow at her foster mother, whose astonished expression gave way to a knowing half-smile.
Meg was clearly confused. "What? Who are you in love with, Christine? What on earth are you talking about?" She threw up her hands in frustration, nearly causing a scene again. Christine placed her hand on Meg's shoulder. "Him, Meg. I'm in love with him."
"With…with Raoul?" Meg looked askance at her. Christine shook her head slowly. Meg sat thinking for a moment before her eyes went wide with surprise. "Christine! How…when…? You must be joking!"
"I'm afraid she isn't, ma cherie," Madame Giry interjected. She turned her attention again to Christine. "Have you seen him since that night?"
Christine nodded. "I have. And he is a completely different man now. I cannot reveal more to you--that is for him to tell you himself. But I want you to know that we are in love and we are courting with intentions of marriage." She steeled herself for what she feared might be an argument. However, Madame Giry simply sank back in her chair.
"Then you have finally decided between the two men, Christine? Because Erik cannot take rejection from you again!" She spat the words angrily at her, and Christine knew that her suspicions had been right…Erik and Madame Giry are friends. She wasn't just his messenger and box keeper. Christine planned to question Erik about it one day, when the time was right.
Erik? Meg thought, bewildered. Monsieur le Fantôme has a name?
"Yes, Madame. I have decided. I choose Erik. I am in love with him, and I want nothing more than to be his wife. Do you believe me?"
Madame Giry studied Christine for a brief moment before nodding. "Yes, ma cherie, I believe you. And I hope that you will speak to Erik and tell him...that I would very much like to see him again." She smiled. "I assume that he is no longer living in the bowels of the Opera?"
"No, Madame, of course not. And I will pass the message along to him."
The waitress arrived with their lunches, and the subject was changed to more pleasant matters. The Opera was to be rebuilt, with the financial assistance of the Viscomte de Chagny. The news had finally been made public. Madame Giry and Meg were not certain if they were going to wait until its completion or seek employment in another place, and Christine secretly hoped that they would remain in Paris long enough, at least, to attend her wedding to her beloved Erik. When that would be, however, she had no idea.
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The black carriage passed by a small café and he caught sight of three very familiar faces. He tapped on the carriage to get his driver's attention. "Stop! Let me off here, please." He stepped out and slowly walked nearer to the café windows, observing Madame Giry's expressions. Meg was seated next to her mother and Christine's back was now facing him, obscuring his view of her face. How did they find each other again? Perhaps they will be able to talk some sense into Christine! Determined to act as though this was nothing more than a chance meeting, Raoul opened the café door, careful not to look in their general direction. He seated himself at a table in the corner and picked up a newspaper, pretending to be lost in thought.
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Meg suddenly gripped Christine's arm. "He's here. Christine, don't turn around."
"Who is here, Meg?" Christine felt fear grip her heart and she prayed that it was not Erik who had just walked through the door. How foolish that would be, in broad daylight, in downtown Paris!
Madame Giry looked across the room and then quickly shifted her eyes back to her plate. "It is the Viscomte. He must have seen us. What if he approaches you, Christine? Do you want to speak with him?"
"I cannot ignore him. I do care for him…he has been my friend for a very long time. I will be all right. I'm not concerned." Christine tried to convince herself that she could speak with Raoul in a civil tone, but she was not so certain. She was glad, however, that she was not alone in the café with him. Perhaps he won't be so bold as to discuss personal matters in front of Meg and Madame Giry. She turned her attention back to her lunch, sipping her soup noiselessly from the spoon. Within seconds, she heard a noise behind her and knew that he was standing there. She glanced at Meg, who had turned red-faced, but had refused to look up.
"Good afternoon, ladies," Raoul spoke with a cheerful air, though he was feeling something altogether different. "It has been such a long time since I have seen you. How did you fare after the fire?" He smiled disarmingly and Madame Giry returned a polite expression.
"We have fared as well as could be expected, Viscomte. Thank you for asking. And how are you?"
"I have been rather busy with plans of rebuilding the Populaire. We have hired some new architects and I believe that they will do a fine job. Giroux and Associates, in Melun."
Christine nearly dropped her spoon. Giroux? Surely not the same Giroux that Monsieur Laurent spoke of…Erik's new employer! Oh, no! This cannot be happening!
"They were recommended by a good friend of mine, Monsieur Gregoire Laurent." He glanced down at the top of Christine's head, and then shifted his gaze to Meg. "Little Meg, have you been well?"
"Y-yes, I have. Thank you. I…am glad to hear that you will be rebuilding the Opera."
"Oh, I would hate to see it go…and so many people would be out of work! Will you be returning when the construction is complete?"
Madame Giry cleared her throat. "We are not yet certain of our plans, Viscomte. We do need to make an immediate income somehow, you know." She smiled at him, but the smile did not reach her eyes.
"Yes, well…" Raoul replied. "You have your infamous Opera Ghost to thank for this, I suppose," he spoke bitterly. "It should be his money rebuilding the Populaire and not mine. But then, I don't suppose he has a penny to his name anymore…and rightly so." He stared at the women smugly and placed both hands on the back of Christine's chair. "Ladies, might I speak to Mademoiselle Daae alone, please?"
Madame Giry stared at Christine, wide-eyed. Christine nodded in reassurance, and the two other women rose quickly, leaving the table to wait outside. Raoul moved to Meg's chair and seated himself, meeting Christine's eyes with an expression of scorn. He could not help but be bitter…he had discovered so many more gruesome details about the man seducing his Christine. "I have some information that you may find interesting, Lotte." He purposely tried to remain stoic, refusing to show her any affection whatsoever. If she decides to return to me, then I will show her plenty of love…but until then, I must not subject myself to the torture.
She chewed her food and swallowed, staring at him impassively. After a moment, she sipped her tea leisurely and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. Clearing her throat at last, she settled back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "Very well. I suppose I have no choice but to hear it."
Raoul was furious. "Damn it, Christine!" He shouted, pounding his fist upon the table. The waitress immediately stepped forward to intervene. Christine glanced up at her, smiling. "It's alright, everything is fine." The waitress stared at Raoul for a moment before returning to her duties.
Christine felt a twinge of guilt. "Raoul, I don't mean to treat you badly…but you apparently came here with an agenda. And you have already insulted someone I care deeply for, in front of the only family that I have. So, if you will be so kind, please just say what you came to say, and perhaps we will be able to salvage what little friendship we have left." She scrutinized him, her features clouded with hurt and anger.
He softened a bit, disturbed by the way he had acted, and reached to lay his hand upon hers. To his surprise, she did not pull away. "Christine, some news has been…brought to my attention, and I have found it to be rather disturbing. It concerns you and your safety, darling."
Christine furrowed her brows. "I am perfectly safe, Raoul. What news are you speaking about?"
Raoul shifted in his seat and lowered his voice. "I have acquired proof, ma cherie, that your Phantom is not who you believe him to be." He watched as her face contorted into an expression of loathing.
"You…what have you done?" She nearly jumped out of her chair at him. "Do you think that this will bring me back to you, Raoul? I cannot believe that you would deliberately seek to slander him and hurt me like this!" She sobbed into her cloth napkin and turned away from him, shaking.
This is not going well at all. I had expected as much...but I am doing this for her own good, he thought to himself, rationalizing his own actions. He tried to remain calm as he reached inside his coat and pulled out a few folded papers from the inside pocket. "Christine, I do not mean to hurt you…I am doing this because I…I love you, and I want to keep you safe."
Christine's sobbing had subsided to the point of sniffles and she glared at him. "So you say. But it isn't true. You want to keep me bound, with no one to run to except you! Will you seek to destroy everyone in my life that I love?"
"Just listen, please. I know that what I have done may seem…hurtful to you, but I did it for you, Lotte. Only for you…because I would hate to see you end up like so many others who have crossed this monster's path." His tone took on the familiar bitterness again, and he tried desperately to contain it.
"So many others?" Her expression turned to one of mild surprise. "I know that he has committed murder at the Opera...Buquet and Piangi, but--"
Raoul sighed. "I'm afraid that he has taken more lives than those…only God Himself knows how many for certain. The…the man has lived in other countries…has he told you that?"
She nodded. "Yes…I do know that he…he traveled with…" She stopped short, not wanting to share details of Erik's life with his rival. It would be a betrayal of his trust.
Raoul finished her sentence. "With gypsies." She nodded, and he continued. "After that time, he spent much of his life in India and Persia up until about fifteen years ago."
"R-really?" Christine recalled that Erik would speak to her of Persia from time to time, but she had no idea how long he had stayed there…and he hadn't mentioned what business he had in such a place. "Raoul, do you…know what he was doing in Persia?"
"Sadly, yes. The information is on this paper here." He handed her one of the folded document pages from Monsieur Thibedeaux, and she opened it slowly. She frowned and squinted as she read the contents. Shah of Persia…magician…. Christine swallowed hard and hot tears began to fill her eyes as she read the remainder of the information. "Oh, no. No." She shook her head. "It-it can't be! No! Not my Erik! Not my beautiful Angel!" She emitted a breathy sob, and Raoul placed a hand on her shoulder. Christine felt sick to her stomach. She suddenly struggled to breathe, and could feel herself fading quickly. She gripped Raoul's arm and the room began to spin around her. Blackness rapidly engulfed her as she fell forward, unconscious, her head landing on his chest.
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A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Gosh, I'm so flattered by some of them that I don't even know what to say! -blushes- And all of you seem to be very anxious for me to read Susan Kay's novel. I assure you, I am working on that now! Have no fear! And I know, I know...many of you are probably sick of Raoul. Well, unfortunately, he's still around. Bear with me, here! -grins-