300 opens tomorrow!!! I have my tickets (bought them through FANDANGO last week!) and I am taking the day off to prepare!! My friend is coming Fayetteville and we are going to have a blast! Gerry's going to be on Craig Ferguson again that night (Saturday morning 12:35 EST)! I am going to be completely useless!!!
Where is everyone? My first three chapters got 12 reviews, 11 reviews, and another 12 - these last two have only had 8!!! I need them to survive - they are my air!! Okay, I'm being a bit dramatic, but I love to hear from you. I don't expect the number that I get with an Erik/Christine story, but I would still like to get a few more - I know, I'm begging!!
Anyway, enjoy my lovelies.
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 6
March 13, 1874 – Paris France
Christine could feel an unusual bitterness in her heart seep its way throughout her entire being. What a cruel joke life had played on her and the man she felt a connection to – a connection far deeper than that of romantic love.
"You mean to tell me that most of the events that occurred that night were not even my Angel's doing?"
Her voice was quiet but full of a building wrath.
Raoul didn't even have to speak, his eyes said all that needed to be said.
"He was hunted down like an animal, his home and possessions destroyed…" she turned steely eyes on Raoul, "…tell me, who is the animal in this scenario?"
The anger in her voice and features made Raoul's ire begin to simmer.
"Why did he not insist upon his innocence Christine, tell me that…all the things he was accused of – and he did not say a word."
"That's because he did not know."
They both turned to see Annette Giry walk through the door and into the parlor. Her regal steps were no less sure than they had been several years ago; she seemed ageless and eternal.
"What do you mean, he did not know?"
Raoul indicated the couch for her to sit down. Christine took the seat next to her and accepted the motherly comfort that her presence seemed to provide.
Raoul sat down across from them; staring remotely out the large window, watching the sun drop down behind the silhouette of the city.
"Did you or anyone else accuse him of the murder of Bouquet?"
Christine and Raoul looked at each other, realizing the point she was making.
"He had no idea he was being hunted for the death of Bouquet."
Christine raised her head and looked directly into Annette's eyes.
"Why did we think it so easy for him to escalate from practical jokes to murder?"
The question hung in the air without anyone attempting to answer it. They all knew that it was a long stretch.
"Bouquet had been mocking him for years, if Erik had wanted him dead he would have done it long ago and without all the attention."
Christine wiped the tears from her face and laughed without humor.
"He thought his face alone was the cause of everyone's murderous intentions…" a wide-eyed, tear-filled look settled on her face, "…what he must think of us…"
Raoul felt the sinking feeling in his heart; her feelings for Erik were still a great mystery to him. He was certain she felt deeply for him, he just couldn't determine if it was love or not.
"…are we any better than those in his past?"
Annette furrowed her brow and cast a furtive look at Raoul. This did not escape the sorrowed eyes of Christine.
"Raoul filled me in on some of the details that you shared with him…tell me, did you think me too delicate or witless to share my Angel's past with me?"
Annette sighed and swallowed deeply, she had hurt Christine by keeping Erik's identity from her; now, she felt betrayed.
"Erik is not proud of his past Christine; he did not want you or anyone else to know about it…you still do not know everything – none of us do - and I pray that we never do."
"Where is he?"
Christine's sudden question caught Annette of guard and the truth showed in her eyes.
"You know, do you not?"
Annette stood and started toward the door, not willing to give up any other information; especially with her eyes.
"If he wanted you to know, he would have told you."
Christine rushed to her and grasped her hands in hers; her eyes were full of tears and she looked desperate.
"Just tell me that he is alright."
Annette lifted her chin and then allowed a smile to soften her features.
"He is…as close to content as he has ever been."
Christine accepted that, but only because she felt that she had to. Her Angel was gone from her, and for the first time in a couple of years, she shed real tears. She was no longer frightened of him and the effect he had on her, she knew that her reaction to him was certainly not his fault. She also knew that she had to learn to cope with her feelings for him or her marriage would suffer.
"Has he found love?"
Annette considered the role of Tarrah in his life, but knew that Christine expected him to find a romantic love, and Tarrah was not that.
"No, and he no longer looks for it."
Christine silently nodded her head. There was sadness in her eyes and Annette knew she desperately wanted him to find love; but Annette was certain that when he did, there would be a wave of jealousy in Christine that she didn't expect.
"Thank you."Madam Giry left, leaving Christine and Raoul to discuss what was happening between them and move past the doubts.
"Christine…"
"We almost killed him, Raoul…a man who has known so much hate and mistrust throughout his life..." she looked at him with pleading eyes, "…how does that make you feel?"
Raoul was suddenly defensive, it seemed as though she was blaming everything on him.
"Awful! That's how it makes me feel…what do you want me to say…that I am capable of murder?"
"Are you?"
Her question was asked honestly and with such pain, that Raoul forgot his anger.
"I never used to think so…but the rage soaring through me in the graveyard that day was so strong and...alive..." Raoul closed his eyes, hoping to blot out the memory, "...if you had not stopped me, I would have run him through."
The shock of his own intentions forced Raoul to drop back into the chair behind him. There were unshed tears in his hazel eyes,.
"I have been so concentrated on the fact that he had a noose around my neck that night, when I tried to kill him first..." Raoul looked up into Christine's tear-stained features, "...I am capable of murder."
Christine looked away and then walked over to the window. A soft rain had begun to fall and the drops crept down the glass of the window, leaving trails of intricate design that she followed with her finger.
Her Angel's murderous tendencies had been a great influence on her fear of him; now she realized how displaced those feelings were...she had married a man who could commit murder.
Changing the subject seemed best, considering the heaviness in the air.
"I know you question my feelings for him, and you should."
Raoul said nothing, but he held his breath until she spoke again.
"What I feel for him transcends romantic love, Raoul…for so long I thought him an angel and to think romantic thoughts of him was somehow…forbidden." She did not look at him, but her hand fell from the window to rest at her side. "I realize how naive I was in my reaction to him…I thought he was supposed to awaken these feelings in me to make me a better singer – a better artist…"
She looked to Raoul for understanding, and saw a concerned but involved look on his face.
"…I know he is slightly older than me, and so very handsome – although he would never believe it – but I see him as a beloved friend and mentor. I never saw him as a lover."
"But you are attracted to him…aren't you?"
Raoul knew she was – there was no denying it.
She went to him this time and took his hands in hers. Her eyes softened and she lifted one of her hands to caress his clean-shaved cheek.
"A part of me is, and always will be; but he is apparently not my type."
Raoul raised a brow and cocked his head slightly, looking down at her in amusement.
"Just exactly what is 'your type'?"
She smiled teasingly and moved away from him as a knock sounded on the door.
"I am not sure; I will get back to you."
♦♥♣♠
"This is awful, we need something we have not performed before…this is just too amateur."
Gilles André was steaming. He had endured entirely too many jeers about the musical play he had written. It was his finest work…even if it was his first.
"How dare you…you have no idea of the amount of time and effort that went into this."
"André, they're right, it is awful…what were you thinking?"
Richard Firmin stood tall and unmoving as he voiced his opinion to his shorter, stockier partner. They had many disagreements, but few of them had been over music.
"Neither one of us is qualified enough to be writing musical scores or dialogue."
"At least I am trying to do something about this unacceptable situation in which we find ourselves."
Madam Giry stood not far away with her arms crossed over her chest and a look of complete disgust on her face.
"Gentlemen, is this really necessary?"
They stopped arguing and looked at her, both feeling as though a wife or a mother was reprimanding them.
"What would you suggest, Annette…we are running out of options?"
Gilles shook his head in agreement.
"We have lost many of the best performers and quite a few of the staff to other opera houses, especially the one across the Channel, what is it called?"
He looked for support from Richard, who readily gave it.
"The Italian Opera House…" Firmin rolled his eyes, "…why they call an opera house in London the Italian Opera House I will never know…but it is apparently thriving and we are being swept under the rug."
Annette smirked and walked toward them, resisting the urge to box both of them in the ears like bickering children.
"I have asked Erik to return, I am unsure of his answer at this time, but the option remains open."
Both men immediately grew quiet and thoughtful.
"You know where he is?"
She gave one nod of her head.
"Really, why did you not tell us this earlier?"
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
"He does not wish for everyone to know where he is, he is finally living a life with which he feels content."
"We are hoping he will come back to us now that we know the truth behind Bouquet, the fire, and Carlotta and Piangi."
Christine had made her way over to them after removing her costume.
"My husband and his family reluctantly allowed me to come back to the opera and make use of the gift that my Angel gave me, he would want the best for me."
"Madam, we simply have no other options unless we get our hands on an original Lacroix opera – they are the rage all over Europe, especially in the United Kingdom."
Gilles went quiet after making that suggestion. Richard shook his head in agreement, but put things into prospective.
"Yes, a Lacroix would be marvelous; however, we do not have the personnel or the staff to accommodate such extensive productions." He rubbed his chin in exasperation and continued with another problem. "Nor can we afford the cost of getting an original Lacroix – the man's work goes for 50,000 British pounds – per composition; that is entirely too rich for our pockets."
Gilles agreed, but his face showed an annoyance at the ever-rising cost of doing business.
"I do not understand how the man reached such high standards in such a short time."
Richard fixed a stern stare on his partner and long-time friend.
"He is apparently been in the shadows for some time, writing under assumed names and his music has been heard in many places – no one knew it was him."
Annette was doing all she could to keep from laughing at the bickering men, they sounded like an old married couple.
"Gentlemen…we have had Lacroix's music here in the past."
Both men stopped their ranting and looked at Annette with interest.
"Really…when?"
"In fact, we had it for a good long time and our opera house is the first opera house in which an original Lacroix was performed."
Neither man could have looked more ridiculous; they both shared a wide-eyed glance and then looked back at Annette.
"Do not tell us…the Opera Ghost…this Erik…he is…."
Richard couldn't even get the words out.
"Yes." She affirmed with a stern stare.
He threw his hands up and scoffed loudly.
"Great, now we have managed to run off the greatest living composer of our time; after accusing him of murders he did not commit, and making him feel less than human….André…" He looked at his stunned partner with irritation, "…this is doing nothing for my nerves."
Without any ready solution to their predicament, they had no choice but to perform an old reliable opera and get mediocre participation from the public; everyone tried to forget the season when it was over…everyone.
TBC