Author's Note: Thanks to mildetryth (double thanks), Busanda (double thanks), CarolROI, steelelf (double thanks), Rose of Night, WindPhoenix, Shayril, Lady Winifred and TalithaJ for their latest reviews. Expect another chapter very very soon because I owe another double update. 252 reviews! You guys are the best. Thanks again and enjoy! Nedjemt.
Disclaimer: The characters and plotline of the Phantom of the Opera on which this story is based are – to the best of my knowledge – the property of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Nor do I own any of the songs or music used or referred to within this story. No infringement of copyright is intended nor is this story written for profit as I have the greatest respect for their work.
Chapter 40
The entire Institute was frantic. Preparations were underway for Hannibal. Each department was in the preliminary stages of their work, be it learning parts or designing concepts for the production. The work load was tremendous, seeing as there would only be a few short days after the Christmas holidays before rehearsals would begin. On top of that there was still the usual workload from the course studies, and of course there were preparations for the Christmas Concert – which were done outside of the usual hours. On the whole, life was rushed for every member of the Ravelle, staff and students alike.
Christine felt even more rushed than the rest, since her Angel had refused to cut down the number of lessons, or the amount of work he required of her. Most of their time was spent perfecting her performance for Christmas – she had already learnt it, and had been pleasantly surprised to find that the lesson after she had first brought and left the music, her Angel seemed to know the arrangement note for note. She probably shouldn't have been surprised, but she was only human. There were even copies of some of the pages, with alterations that improved it. She hadn't minded – it had been her Angel to alter her father's work after all.
When she had presented the arrangement to Professor Gardiner – with her Angel's consent – he had been excited by it to say the least. It would be something the audience had never heard before, yet it captured the magic of Christmas, and the awe the Ravelle wished to convey. Plus it allowed more than just one student to shine – even though it was obvious there would be a star. After considering it for a few days, he had called Christine to his office.
"I have to say I am very eager to have this arrangement as part of our finale. I take it that seeing as you offered; we have your official consent to use your father's material?"
"Of course."
"Excellent. And seeing as it was your father who wrote this, I think it only right that you be the soloist. Your work in class has been excellent since your review, and I would be happy for you to perform the finale."
"Thank you, Professor." She said, smiling in relief. What with everything that her Angel had said, she didn't know what he'd think if she hadn't been offered the role again.
"I shall start arranging rehearsals and coordinating with the choir and orchestra as soon as possible. However, I feel I ought to advise discretion as far as this goes."
"You want it to be a surprise?" Christine asked, that being the only reason she could think of.
"There is that. You know that the first half of the concert shall be an arrangement from Handel's Messiah with excerpts from several of Bach's cantatas, and the second half will be something more of a medley in terms of the performances."
"Yes."
"We have decided to use Miss Guidacelli as the soloist in the first half."
"I understand." Christine answered, looking him in the eye steadily so he knew she really did understand. Carlotta would have been expecting the finale. Being given the position of soloist for the first half would have satisfied her though. Learning that her rival had landed the coveted finale instead of her and with something that would undoubtedly be celebrated more than a traditional arrangement of Handel, discretion was definitely called for if they were going to pull this off.
Which is why at all the rehearsals thus far, secrecy had been stressed to all those involved. The excuse was that they wanted to keep the entire thing under wraps until the night, to heighten anticipation etc. It was also why the choir had been chosen very carefully. Gardiner was not usually one to give in to the rivalries that inevitably surfaced at the Ravelle; but he took great pride in his craft, and did not want to risk losing the opportunity that had been presented to him. In truth, the attitude of both Carlotta and her mother – who had been effectively dictating her daughter's treatment by the Institute to the board – had been grating on him for a while. He liked the (usually) shy Christine. Her modesty was refreshing, and the sheer natural talent she possessed was incredible. He was surprised to learn that she already had a voice teacher when he had offered to give her extra lessons. But he could not deny her progress. Even if he didn't even know the half of it.
Were it not for the stories she had grown up with about life in a theatre, Christine would have found all of this somewhat over the top. As it was, she simply found it tiring. And it began to tell during her lessons. She found herself being stopped far more than usual because she'd missed a note or a beat. They both knew there was little excuse for it, seeing as she knew the music by heart. More than once she left her lessons feeling more frustrated and drained than when she went in – and of course she would then be anxious when the next one came.
A fortnight before the concert, almost every spare moment was taken up with rehearsals, and they had even invaded classes a few times. For some reason though, Christine always managed to have a free hour or so at the end of each day for a lesson with her Angel. She had begun treasuring these hours. It was the one time of day when she could escape the stress of the Ravelle. There was always some point during their lessons when the concert was not mentioned, neither was her piece. She could simply listen to her Angel's voice advising or instructing her. Then he would ask her about her day, and she would tell him. Whether she believed he could resolve any problems she was having or not, it didn't matter, because then he would calm her with that voice of his. The habit had begun only a little while ago, because Christine had been on the verge of hysterics, she had been that worked up. She had then poured her heart out to her Angel, who had simply listened, then calmed her with soothing words and the promise that all would be well, and that she need not worry so much in future – and when she had gone, berated himself furiously for adding to her troubles.
She went to her lesson this day with a lighter heart than usual: rehearsals had gone very well, and Professor Gardiner had announced that they would be trying a proper run through tomorrow; full orchestra and choir included.
"So Gardiner has finally allowed them to hear the music." She was greeted with as she came through the dressing room door and began taking off her bag, scarf and coat.
"Hello, my Angel," it still warmed him every time she said that, "yes, I've been looking forward to it."
"Of course. Be careful though, child; the introduction of the orchestra will undoubtedly confuse the choir." He gently warned, not wanting to dispel her happiness. That, combined with the chilly weather outside had brought a delightful glow to her features.
"I know. But I've heard good things about the orchestra, so I don't think I'll mind having to repeat it a few times." She said, grinning impishly.
"Your exuberance is charming; let's see if you can pour it into your music." Christine resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. He probably wouldn't have taken it as a joke. Their lesson began, and Christine did indeed manage to convey the joy she felt in the latter half of the Fantasia – the first part being inappropriate for it. There were still a lot of points at which she was told to stop and try again; her angel didn't settle for anything less than perfection, and she was grateful for that – this was her father's music after all.
At length, the end of their lesson came, with the usual instruction that she was to rest when she got home. Just as she was putting her coat on though, she was stopped.
"I suppose the costume department has finally sorted out the wardrobe for the concert." She stopped and turned, curious. She had gotten into the habit of talking to the mirror, seeing as that's where the music stand had been put that first time.
"Yes. They've settled on black for the first half, and navy for the second."
"Presumably you will be required to change for the finale."
"Yes, but I don't know what I'll be wearing. They haven't told me yet."
"Turn around. Go behind the screen." She obeyed, wondering what had gotten into him. She went behind the screen and found hanging there the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was dark blue velvet, sleeveless with a flattering but not immodest v-neck, and a back in a similar, but lower cut. Shot through the fabric in patterns that reminded her of the star-filled heavens were strands of silver and metallic blue thread, making the fabric almost iridescent. When the lights hit her she would look as though she belonged in the night sky. The dress had actually been hanging there for a week now, but he had yet to find a way to give it to her. She stepped back out from the screen.
"Angel, did you do this?" She asked, her voice trembling.
"Yes." Her head lowered.
"You refused to impersonate Katie O'Neill. It is like one that she wore whenever she sang O Holy Night. Though you will be performing Vaughan Williams, I believe it will be appropriate, nevertheless." He explained, wondering what on earth the matter was. She raised her head again, tears in her eyes once more.
"Thank you, my Angel. It is a beautiful gift, and means more than I can say." She answered her heart in her eyes.
"Leave it here. It will be waiting for you when the time comes." He returned; his voice as thick with emotion as hers had been.
He watched her leave. When the Ghost had persuaded Gardiner to have her do the finale, and he had asked her to sing O Holy Night, it had been with the idea in mind of seeing Katie sing once more. He had brushed the idea aside as he heard her rejections of each proposal. But the dress he had been unable to resist. It was like Katie's indeed, but instead it had been made with Christine in mind. The dark blue would complement her porcelain skin and the colour would bring out her eyes. She would look like an angel. And it would be his doing. Clearly she had recognised the similarity between this garment and that of her mother's, but she had appreciated the beauty bestowed on her as well.
He hoped her appreciation of beauty extended beyond clothes.
Christine loved the dress. Not only would it be the most beautiful garment she had ever worn, not only would it have saved her a shopping trip on Meg's insistence or another fitting from the wardrobe department, not would she have a tangible connection to the mother she often had difficulty remembering, but it had been given to her by her Angel. It was a very personal thing to give a girl clothes, but she didn't mind it coming from him. How did he know her size? What did it matter? She trusted him.
She stopped her train of thought in horror.
It was a sleeveless dress. It had a low neck and back. Mother Giry would have to help her change, otherwise the scars would show. They'd have to be covered up after she had taken her other costume off. If they tried hiding the scars with make-up before then, it would rub off onto whatever she wore, making the whole exercise useless. Would she have enough time? There was a ballet in between the last ensemble piece and the finale. It was to conclude everything else and introduce the Fantasia – and give her time to change and have her hair redone etc. She hoped Mother would agree. Otherwise she was in trouble.
Rehearsals continued well. The other singers had indeed been thrown off by the orchestra, and it had taken a lot of attempts before they had gotten back on track. The Opera Ghost had apparently been sending notes aplenty to the managers and staff – according to Meg – giving 'suggestions' as to how the concert ought to happen, who had better improve on what, and generally expressing his discontent with the poor standards that he would not allow to be displayed in his Opera House.
Amazingly, Carlotta had not found out about the finale, probably assuming the ballet was the last item, and then everyone would be taking a bow – or in her case, several. Even though it was one less thing to worry about, Christine still worried. With the exception of her visit to the cemetery, she had not performed outside of a lesson since before her father had gone home. She certainly hadn't performed before an audience in many months. She tried to remember everything she had been taught – that you couldn't actually see the audience at first because of the darkness and the stage lamps, that if she focused on the music, she would be fine – but it didn't work. She couldn't lose the dread that had slowly been building until it began to show during her classes.
It was her last lesson the day before the concert. After this, there would be the performance; the holidays and then she would know nothing other than Hannibal. She began her warm-ups but was immediately commanded to stop.
"Christine, sit down." She did as she was told, sitting on the chair at the dressing table and putting her head in her hands, the stress of the past weeks breaking through.
"Child, you know the music. What has made you this nervous?" He asked gently.
"I haven't performed for an audience for six months. And tomorrow I'm doing the finale of the Ravelle Christmas Concert." She explained, the weight of the situation bearing down on her completely.
"Listen to me." He said firmly. "You are far better than any other performer they will put on that stage. Sing for your father, Christine. Sing for him and you need not worry about any audience." He regretted the suggestion. He wanted more than anything for her to sing for him, but if calming her meant giving up his claim to this one performance, then he would do so.
Christine raised her head again.
"You always know what to say." She said in wonder. "I will sing for him, Angel. It is his music, I couldn't do less. But I can do more. I couldn't get on that stage and sing unless it was for you as well. You have given me my voice, and it's time for me to return the favour."
He closed his eyes in sweet bliss. She had obeyed his instruction, but still granted his wish. And so, he granted hers.
"No lessons today, Christine. You know the music, and I will not have you straining your voice. Sit on the couch." She did so, wondering what would happen instead of the lesson. She had been disappointed at first, thinking he would not be guiding her when she needed it.
Her spirit began to soar as his heavenly voice began to sing and her eyes closed of their own accord, blocking out everything save for that glorious sound. It was the same wordless melody he had used to comfort her in the theatre. Now he used it to calm and encourage her. She rested back against the couch, allowing herself to drown once more in the beautiful magic he alone could weave. She forgot everything except that she was a child of Music, and her Angel was singing for her.
Her angel was singing for her.
Tomorrow, she would sing for him.
Because not even her father could claim the devotion she now owed.