Author´s note: I´ve never received so many reviews for a single chapter. Thank you! You wouldn´t believe how quickly it made me type. And I really don´t like typing… What? You don´t care about all that and just want to find out what happens next? Oh, all right. Let´s go on then…
Chapter TwelveAugust 6th 1892: Christine
My hands were shaking violently as I approached the side entrance of the building which would lead us into Erik´s world. In the end I had to grasp the wrist of my right arm with my left hand to hold it steady enough to push down the handle. The door swung open, which clearly showed me that he was indeed waiting for us. I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, Philippe right behind me.
At first I felt like all people do when entering a unknown and fairly dark room; I was a little anxious and moved very carefully. I carried a lantern in one hand, while my son was clutching the other one. "Where are we?", he asked in a whisper. It was the first time someone spoke since I had told the coachman not to wait for our return, and consequently it sounded much too loud in the empty corridor we were just walking through.
"We´re in an opera house.", I replied in the same quiet voice. "Or rather, under it…" I wasn´t sure whether that was already true, but I could feel the corridor was leading slightly downwards. "I thought you didn´t like the opera. Antoinette told me so.", my little boy remarked. "What are we doing here then?" "Erm… well, you mustn´t know yet. You´ll find out later." This wasn´t a very witty answer, but I was running out of lies. I had already told too many of them.
Apparently it was sufficient for Philippe, though, for he didn´t ask more questions. Yet it wasn´t a nice atmosphere for having a conversation anyway. The darkness, the fact that every word we spoke echoed from the walls, combined with my sombre mood – I could understand how overwhelmingly intimidating all that had to be for a child. So I wasn´t surprised when he stopped a few minutes later and muttered: "I´m so tired, Maman. Could you carry me for a while?". I nodded readily and picked up his small body from the floor. It was safer like that for it spared him the danger of stepping onto the trigger of a trap.
Although it was far from easy to walk through the tunnels with my son and the lantern, I still thought it had been better to take him with me. Besides, having him in my arms was a comfortably warm feeling. Yet after a while my child seemed to grow heavier and heavier, and I noticed that he had fallen asleep. More than once I had to stop to catch my breath. I couldn´t help wondering whether the way had always been this endlessly long. Maybe I wasn´t following the right path. After all, it had been more than ten years since the last time I had been down here.
When the underground lake came into view I gave a brief sigh of relief. At least I hadn´t lost my way and needed Erik to rescue me. But on the other hand it would probably have been better if I had never arrived here. His home seemed so very near all of a sudden as I started walking around the lake. The gondola was nowhere to be seen at the shore – a sign that he hadn´t gone out – and I doubted I could have worked it anyway.
I felt like running away. Had I really once liked this place, its quietness and peace? Now it seemed to be full of greedy beasts trying to get Philippe. Involuntarily I pressed him against my chest more firmly. I´d protect him. I´d – "Good evening, Madame.", a voice coming from behind me suddenly addressed me. I nearly forgot to breathe as I turned around slowly. This time no mistake was possible. It was Erik.
Of course I should have been frightened, yet for some reason the first thought rushing through my mind was ´ Oh, that voice! That heavenly voice!´. Until this moment I hadn´t known how much I had missed it, singing or merely talking to me. The rich tenor voice filled my head, making me unable to respond in any way, even if I had had the faintest idea of what to say.
Erik clicked his tongue impatiently. "What´s the matter, Madame?", he asked with so much sarcasm that even a dog would have noticed it. "Don´t they teach the young countesses manners anymore or did the boy forbid his little wife to talk to strangers? You´re supposed to say something, for example…" Now something very strange happened: Even though neither he nor I moved our lips, I heard someone speak "Hello Erik! How nice to see you again! Here´s the boy, just like I promised. I´m sorry for being a bit late…"
"Oh, stop it!", I said sharply. He had used this ability on me before, and I had never liked it. It gave me the unpleasant feeling of being manipulated by him. "A miracle has happened: She can talk.", Erik stated so dryly that I was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to slap him in the face. Shaking slightly with barely controlled rage I told him: "To your information: I have no intention to leave Philippe in your care for as long as a second. I´d rather die.".
He looked at me intently, but he didn´t seem surprised or furious. "Please compose yourself! There in no need for such threats… yet. Why don´t you come to my home and we discuss everything there?", he suggested. Although the word ´trap´ appeared in big letters at the back of my head at once, it was an offer too tempting to resist. My arms felt as if they´d fall off any second, and my back was aching. I had never carried Philippe for such a long time; my whole body was screaming for a rest. Besides, I had come here to talk. So I nodded reluctantly.
Without another word he started walking towards his house, and I followed him. Fortunately it wasn´t far. Just about five minutes later we were there, and after another minute we stood in the living room. Nothing had changed, not the tiniest detail. I took a deep breath. It even smelled like it had had ten years ago. I gave a reminiscent little smile, but my wave of nostalgia was interrupted by Erik, who entered the room behind me, pointed at the sofa and sat down on the armchair next to it himself. Cautiously I placed the still sleeping Philippe on the surprisingly soft cushions before settling down as well.
"You´ve changed a lot, Christine Countess de Changy.", he said in a strange voice. He let his gaze roam over my body for a few moments, and I couldn´t help thinking that it lingered a little longer on my cleavage. Hastily I tugged at my coat to cover myself. An amused smile played around his lips as he noticed it. To distract him I muttered: "And you didn´t change at all.". It wasn´t a lie. Sure, there were a few wrinkles on the part of his face I could see, but apart from that he was the same Erik. His hands, usually a good indication for someone´s age, were gloved, and his hair had the same colour it had always had. This wasn´t astonishing, though. After all, he had already worn a wig ten years ago.
Not commenting on my remark Erik then looked over at my son. "He has a terrible resemblance to his father.", he hissed, shaking his head in disdain. "Maybe I should better take the next boy you produce. But no… watching you those few times was hard enough…" I stared at him in alarm. Did he really imply what I thought her did? "You watched Raoul and me… in the bedroom?", I asked faintly. He shrugged. "Of course I did. I had to make sure I´d get my heir before I´m as old as Methuselah. But believe me, I didn´t enjoy it any more than you did. Does your husband always make those… grunting noises?"
"How dare you talk about us like that!", I exclaimed, my face hot and flushed with embarrassment. Philippe stirred slightly, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. Fortunately he didn´t wake up. "Oh, have I touched a delicate topic?", Erik wanted to know with a pleasant smile. "Don´t worry – such things are supposed to become better after some… decades. Or so I´ve heard…" He watched me squirm under his gaze for some more seconds before he abruptly changed the subject. "If you don´t want to bring the child to me, why are you here?"
I cleared my throat, waiting for brilliant arguments to fill my head. None came. The whole thing with Raoul had confused me so much that I could hardly recall the reason for my visit. "I´m here because… well…", I stammered. Only slowly the words returned. "Philippe is my son, and I don´t want to give him to anyone. That promise was a terrible mistake. I was still so young back then; I wasn´t even sure I´d ever have children. Please, Erik…" I begged, now actually grabbing his hand. The leather of his glove was so icy-cold that I shuddered. He pulled it back at once. So I went on, growing more and more frantic: "You don´t need a child. You have this opera house and your music. A child… would only disturb you. Moreover, it would be frightened. Of the mask, I mean…". It was on the tip of my tongue to add that seeing him without mask would be even more frightening, but for my son´s sake I held myself back.
Erik had shown little reaction during my plea, yet the last part seemed to have reached him. "I´ve heard that boys of his age aren´t afraid of many things.", he told me. "But why don´t we simply give it a try? Wake up the child, and we shall see for ourselves." When I hesitated for a moment he growled: "Wake him up or I´ll do it!".
Sighing deeply I leaned down to him and called softly: "Philippe! It´s time to wake up…". His eyes snapped open. "Where…?", he mumbled. "We´re at a friend´s home.", I explained. He lives in the opera, you know. His name is Monsieur … Monsieur …" At this point I had no idea how to go on. I couldn´t possibly mention the name ´Erik´. If Philippe used it in Raoul´s presence, my husband would find out about everything.
Yet while I was still struggling with myself, inwardly cursing my former teacher for not having a last name, the inexplicable happened: My son´s gaze fell on Erik, and a bright smile spread across his face. "Uncle Erik!", he exclaimed merrily.