September 8th 1892: Erik
Finding the Girys proved to be far more difficult than I had thought. Usually Mme.Giry was on stage or in her small office, and Meg was on stage or in her dressing room. Since I had heard the pointless chatting of some chorus girls on my way to the Rue Scribe entrance I assumed the rehearsal was over, which meant that a search on stage probably wouldn´t be successful. I made a mental note that I had to talk to Mme.Giry about her lack of working morale; actually the rehearsal should have taken an hour longer. Yet under the given circumstances that could wait.
Christine was missing. The thought made me speed up more and more till I was walking as quickly as I could without appearing undignified. After all, I had a reputation to lose. A few minutes later I reached little Giry´s dressing room and went inside, not bothering to knock. Politeness wasn´t important now. Besides, even if the girl was changing, I wouldn´t see anything I hadn´t looked at a hundred times before during dissections.
Yet the fact that she wasn´t there spared Meg the fate of being stared at by the ugliest man in Paris. Within moments I had left the room again and headed towards her mother´s office. Maybe I´d even find both of them there. If I didn´t, I´d have to start the tiresome business of opening every single door in the building and scare stagehands and ballet rats into telling me where they were. I was only too aware of the irony of searching for someone who had to help me search someone else.
For once Fortune was smiling at me. Turning around a corner I spotted the very persons I needed now. "M. le Fantome!", Meg cried, and I wondered whether anyone had ever called my name with such friendliness, expect Philippe and possibly his mother. "Have you seen Christine? First she ran away from Maman and then from me. We have no idea where she is now!"
"It seems she has developed a certain pattern.", I remarked dryly. "From her daughter I know that she has run away from her as well. And this time she has left the opera." "Is Antoinette all right?", Mme.Giry asked. As the girl´s godmother it was her duty to be concerned about her. Still I thought Christine was more important. "She was just a little upset, but she´s fine now.", I replied shortly. "I sent the children to my house, so that they won´t get in our way."
From the expressions on their face I could tell that the two women didn´t like the idea of Antoinette and Philippe being in my home all alone, but they nodded. "It could be my fault.", Mme.Giry said quietly. "I put her under a lot of pressure. If I hadn´t – " "No, it´s my fault.", her daughter contradicted her. "Maybe she got the impression that I was supporting Antoinette too much in her wish to become a ballerina…"
I looked at them in confusion as they continued their strange conversation. It was like reading a book in which every other page was missing. "Could you stop that, please?", I asked, silencing them without as much as raising my voice. "If you go on like this, we won´t know anything useful in a year´s time. Why don´t we find a place with a little more privacy and fill each other in on the details there?" I didn´t wait for a reply, but simply opened the door of the nearest room. "But… that´s Signora Marchesi´s dressing room.", Meg muttered. "And this is my opera.", I said flatly. "So?" The dancer didn´t answer and went inside after her mother.
Every time I entered this room I was shocked by how tastelessly it was decorated. It was a mystery to me how a single person could possess so many ugly objects. Everything had garish colours. In addition, many things were glittering. Compared to the forced brightness of the room Mme.Giry and her daughter resembled two sparrows next to a peacock, pale and sickly. I didn´t dare image what I had to look like.
It took our eyes a few moments to get used to the surroundings. Then we sat down on the plush sofa, which was a vivid green, and started talking. Mme.Giry was the first. She spoke slowly, as if she had to consider every word. More than once I felt like urging her on, but I sensed that she needed the time. Meg was next, telling her part of the story quickly. And finally it was my turn, yet I didn´t have a lot to say. I only repeated what I had heard from Antoinette.
My head was filled with questions afterwards; the first one was directed at Mme.Giry. "Why did you insist on Christine deciding what she feels for me? Shouldn´t that be a business between her and me?" "Yes, but… but…" It rarely happened that this woman struggled to find the right words, and it made me realise how difficult my question had been. "You haven´t seen her today.", she eventually answered. "It was almost frightening. She´s a mere shadow of herself. I thought making a decision would lift the pressure she´s under, not increase it. I thought she´d feel better if her feelings were clear…"
"Apparently your plan didn´t work.", I commented. Slowly I felt anger rise from my stomach. "How could you have been that foolish? Christine´s only a child. She needs –" Yet to my utter surprise Mme.Giry interrupted me. Though she tried to hide it, I could tell that she was angry as well. "She is not a child. She´s a grown-up woman, a wife and mother. And making decisions, may they turn out to be right or wrong, is part of the adult life. This is something you simply have to accept, Erik."
I gazed at her, trying to find out whether I was more shocked by her bold words or her use of my first name. It probably was a combination of both… and also the fact that she was right. Christine was thirty years my junior, yet that didn´t make her a child who had to be protected from wrong decisions. It even occurred to me that perhaps I hadn´t tried to protect her, but myself. The anger I had felt before crumbled. "Yes…", I muttered. "I won´t keep her from making a decision…"
Mme.Giry nodded, clearly satisfied by my reply. Meg, on the other hand, said: "That´s all very well, but don´t we have to find her first?". We two others jumped as she reminded us of our present situation. Within a matter of seconds I had developed a plan. "Meg, you take one of the opera´s coaches and drive to Christine´s home. If she´s not there, tell the servants to send a message to the opera as soon as she arrives. Then go to her hairdresser. She has an appointment today. Maybe she tries to maintain her normal routine, at least on the surface. Mme.Giry, you go to the park that is nearest to the opera. She loves sitting on benches there and watching other people. You know the park is rather large, so it could take a while. Afterwards you can check the surrounding cafés and restaurants. She might have become hungry."
"And what will you do?", the older woman asked as I took a deep breath. I was pleased that they didn´t question the fact that I knew best what to do. "I´ll check the rest of the area around the opera.", I replied. "The… less friendly parts…" I would have never dreamed of sending someone else there, let alone a defenceless woman. "We´ll meet again at eight.", I informed them before we left the room, each of us walking into a different direction. Involuntarily my hand wandered to my Punjab Lasso. Perhaps I´d need it this time.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
At nine o´clock I stood at the Rue Scribe entrance again, gazing outside without seeing anything. Nobody had found Christine or at least got a clue of where she could be. By now Mme.Giry and Meg were on their way to my lair to give the two children a decent dinner and to come up with a story why her mother still wasn´t there. I hadn´t been able to accompany them. Usually I was an excellent liar, but in this case I´d have failed miserably.
Though I had pondered and pondered about more places where she could hide, I couldn´t think of any. Fear and despair were a dangerous mixture. They had wiped my mind blank from all useful ideas. All it still produced were images of Christine walking down a dark street, Christine being mugged, Christine lying in the gutter, bleeding, calling for help in a dying voice… Tears were burning in my eyes, but I couldn´t afford such weakness now. I had to find her, eve if it meant… I swallowed hard. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I left the opera behind quickly, not bothering to get a coach. It wasn´t a long way for someone who had walked it a thousand times. About an hour later I sat in an armchair, a glass of wine next to me. Now that I knew what had to be done I could allow myself to relax slightly. Besides, I had never said no to a good wine, and this one was very good. I could get used to it.
After some minutes I heard voices in the corridor. "There is a visitor in the living room, Monsieur." "One of my business partners, I suppose. I told them not to come here this late in the evening." Then the door was opened and the person I had waited for came in. With a certain satisfaction I watched the colour drain from his ridiculously boyish face. "Y-you?", he asked in a chocked whisper. "What´s the matter, Vicomte?", I said pleasantly. "You look as if you had seen a ghost."