September 9th 1892: Christine
Staring at my husband´s face I fervently wished I had the ability to turn back time. If only I had hidden the note when he had entered the room! Given the cheerful mood he had been in, it wouldn´t have been difficult to persuade him to let Philippe stay with Erik for a few days. Yet now that cheerful mood seemed to be gone for good. Anxiously I watched him skim the short message, knitting his brow.
"So you´re already communicating with him again," he stated after a few moments. "Did you have the intention to tell me about his request? Or were you planning to give your permission without even informing me?" He glanced at me so angrily that I shrunk back in my seat. Still I tried to reason with him. "You´ve only come home a few minutes ago," I pointed out. "Of course I´d have told you about the note he sent me, but would you have liked to hear about it right away, when you had such good news for me?"
He seemed to consider my words carefully, then the expression on his face softened. "You´re right," he muttered, giving me a sheepish smile. "It´s just… with all that happened yesterday… I overreacted." "I can understand that," I assured him, reaching up to pat his arm. A little voice at the back of my head kept whispering that all that had gone much too smoothly for the peace to last very long, but I didn´t pay attention to it.
"Do you want us to talk about Erik´s message now? Then we could send him the answer before we go to lunch," I suggested. I was eager to get Raoul involved into making a decision concerning our son, even though my opinion was clear. Yet to my surprise he threw me a puzzled glance. "There´s not much to talk about, is there?" he said in an offhanded way. "A simple ´never´ should be enough."
I frowned. "What do you mean by ´never´?" I asked cautiously, aware that we were treading on dangerous grounds. "I mean that there´s no way in which I´ll allow Philippe to stay with that man any longer than necessary," Raoul explained with forced calm. "It´s bad enough that he´s his teacher. I´ve accepted that, but don´t expect me to make any more concessions."
"Please, Raoul…" I whispered, gazing into his eyes deeply. That behaviour, combined with a soft, pleading voice, had often had the desired effect in the past. "Erik loves Philippe, and Philippe loves Erik. Isn´t it nice that our boy has another grown-up friend, after I had to dismiss Marielle?" Instead of a reply my husband read the note a second time. When he looked up again, his face was almost as white as the sheet of paper. "´My boy´," he murmured. "He actually calls my son his boy!"
As he lowered the note I was able to spot the expression he was referring to. I myself hadn´t even noticed it before. The letters began to dance in front of my eyes because his hand was trembling so badly. Quickly I seized it. "Christine, you told me nothing happened between him and you, didn´t you?" Raoul muttered, his voice shaking as well. "Then why does he call him ´his boy´? Is he his boy?"
That suspicion nearly took my breath away. It was utterly absurd. But then, I couldn´t blame him for not trusting me anymore. "Of course Philippe isn´t his son," I stressed, fervently trying to think of a way to prove I was right. At last my gaze stopped over our bed, where a large portrait of our family hung. "Just look at the painting for a moment!" I went on, pointing at it with my other hand. "Don´t you remember what the artist said while working on the sketches? ´It´s amazing. I´ve rarely seen such a resemblance between father and son.´."
He turned around, studied the portrait and nodded briefly. "That´s true," he muttered. "Still…" I knew I had to act quickly, before he´d grow even more suspicious. It was time for the entire truth. Pressing his cold hand against my cheek I explained: "Erik only calls him his boy because… there´s something I haven´t told you yet. Our son isn´t just his pupil, but also his… his heir. That´s why he wants him to learn so much about the opera and the way it works. Once Erik… won´t be there anymore, Philippe will inherit his… world…". My voice trailed off. I had the terrible impression that I had said too much… or maybe not enough.
"What?" Raoul asked incredulously. He sank down on the footstool next to my chair while he continued talking. "This cannot be true… I´m the descendant of one of the wealthiest families in Paris, and still you prefer my only son to inherit the fortune a madman has acquired with the help of murder and theft… Christine, tell me this was just a bad joke… please!" He pulled his by now warm hand away from my cheek and took mine instead, pressing a soft kiss to it.
His hopeful glance almost broke my heart. I hated to disappoint him, but lying wasn´t an option either. I had begun with the truth, so I´d also go on with it. "I´m not joking," I told him quietly. At once he wanted to let go of my hand, yet I held onto him tightly. He would listen to me, just like Erik had done last night… whether he liked it nor not. "Before you start shouting or run out of the room, try to see things from Erik´s point of view!" I said, placing the index finger of my other hand over his lips as soon as he opened his mouth, undoubtedly to argue that he had better things to do.
"There´ll be enough time for talking later," I assured him. "Now I´d like you to imagine you were Erik… only for a minute," I added as I noticed the annoyed expression on his face. He rolled his eyes, but moved his head in a way that could be interpreted as a nod. I took a deep breath, perfectly aware that my words had to be chosen carefully. It was a small miracle that he had agreed to listen at all. I wouldn´t get a second chance.
"You´re a very lonely old man," I started softly. "Every day you wander around in your world, and it makes you sad to know that all this, everything you created with your own hands, will crumble and decay soon because there´s no one you could pass it on to. And there´s so much knowledge in your head, and it will be lost forever. Maybe some facts among it are so special that nobody except you has ever heard of them…"
I stopped for a moment and looked up from our hands to make sure Raoul was still paying attention. His eyes were closed. A wave of disappointment washed over me. Hadn´t he heard any of what I had said? Yet just a moment later he squeezed my hand lightly. "Go on!" he encouraged me in a friendly voice, and I realised that this was his way of concentrating on my words.
So I continued, a smile on my face. "And then, in the midst of all the despair and sadness, you remember the promise your student has given you years ago, the promise to let her first son become your heir. Suddenly you´re no longer afraid of dying without leaving anything behind. This boy is your one chance. Of course you want to see him, so you start visiting him in his home when his parents aren´t there. Over the years you realise that you love the boy as if he were your own son, and he returns those feelings. This makes you very happy, maybe happier than you´ve ever been before. But some weeks after you´ve become his teacher you have to endure a terrible rejection, and the only thing you can still hold onto is the boy´s love…"
Although I swallowed hard and blinked several times, I couldn´t hold back the tears that threatened to trickle down my face. The images I had conjured up for Raoul had been so vivid that they had affected me as well. Opening his eyes he noticed the state I was in at once and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. Tenderly he wiped away the tears. "You are Philippe´s father, Raoul, and no one will ever question that," I whispered. "But Erik is very important for him as well… and it also works the other way round! Erik needs the boy to keep him company… to get over what happened between us. It´ll be just for a few days…"
"I hope you don´t expect me to pity him now." were his first words, and they made me afraid I hadn´t achieved anything. "I can´t feel pity for a man who killed my brother. But you managed to make me understand him… a little. Besides, my family´s happiness is the most important thing in the world for me. If you think Philippe would enjoy some days with him…" "I´m sure he would," I said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. "And about the heritage - " "Let´s not talk about it now," he interrupted me. "That´s something I still have to consider." "Of course," I muttered. It was only natural that he couldn´t accept everything right away. I was more than willing to give him the time he needed.
I was about to stand up and leave the room, just in case he wanted to think about it right now, when he held me back. "I´m not finished with you," he said fiercely. Yet noticing the sparkle in his eyes I knew he wasn´t angry. He only looked like this when he had a good idea. "Could Jacqueline care for Antoinette alone for a while?" he asked. "Yes, of course she could," I replied hesitantly, not sure what the intention behind his question was.
"So it would be possible for a mother and a father who spent far too little time together in the last weeks to leave the city and go to… their house in Nice, for example?" Now he was beaming at me, and I returned the smile wholeheartedly. It was a wonderful idea. "That would be possible for them… and I´m certain the mother would love to do it," I said. "Then I´ll make all the necessary arrangements after lunch," he announced. "Why don´t you write the answer to… erm, Philippe´s teacher and I´ll talk to Jacqueline and check whether the coach is ready to depart?" he suggested, getting up from his seat. "I feel as if we had even more to celebrate now…" Watching him leave the room I couldn´t help thinking that he was right. I had fought a battle, and I had won.