Author's note: I was overwhelmed by how much feed-back I got. Thank you so much!
Chapter Fifty-Four
September 14th 1892: Raoul
The Baroness was the first to regain her composure. Quickly she forced a smile on her face.
"My dear Christine!" she exclaimed, as if meeting her were the best thing that could have happened. "It is such a joy to see you again! How are you? And how is that lovely daughter of yours, Alexandrine?"
She still seemed to believe that she could avoid an ugly scene with a few pleasantries.
I, however, knew better. I hadn't failed to notice the almost dangerous sparkle in Christine's eyes. She would say what she wanted to, and nobody would keep her from doing so, least of all Baroness Lavinia, who had only made things worse by using the wrong name for our girl and leaving out the boy completely, even though we had mentioned both of them countless times on every occasion when we had met. It showed how little she cared.
"My daughter's name is Antoinette," my wife corrected her in a low voice, which was so full of barely suppressed rage that the little hairs on my arms and legs stood on end.
The tension in the room was almost tangible. It was clear that it was only a matter of time till she'd start shouting. But she was pulling herself together, apparently for the sake of saying a few more things first.
"I also have a second child, whom you seem to have forgotten," she went on, taking a step towards the Baroness, who shrank back immediately. If it hadn't been both ridiculous and pointless, she'd have probably hidden behind her husband. "I don't quite understand how you could have forgotten about him," my wife continued. "After all, you've seen him less than an hour ago. It is Philippe, the Opera Ghost's heir."
Sharp intakes of breath and excited whispering followed this statement. I could only hope that she knew what she was doing. Christine looked around, the expression on her face one of pure disdain.
"You love hearing such things, don't you?" she called. "The singer and the Opera Ghost – what a story! You loved it ten years ago, and now there'll finally be a second part. You must be so happy!"
No one in the crowd moved a muscle. They all stood in stunned silence, waiting for the things to come. And come they did, as soon as my wife had taken a deep breath.
"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you," she said. "There is no scandal I could tell you of. The Opera Ghost is not Philippe's father. I don't have a fantastic love affair with him, neither behind my husband's back nor in front of him. But the Phantom is my friend, and a more wonderful person than you could ever imagine. He's friendly and loyal. But I guess you don't know what those terms mean anyway. He would never spread such disgusting lies about my family and me… unlike you."
The Baroness had at least enough decency to blush. Still she made an attempt to improve the situation, of course in the worst way possible: She tried talking to her again.
"My dear child, I can assure you that none of us wanted to hurt your feelings," she muttered in what she probably thought was a soothing voice. Apparently she didn't have a lot of experience in comforting others. "I understand that you're very upset. Has the Phantom taken your son away from you? Does he force you to say such things about him?"
"No!" Christine yelled. Several people jumped as her wine glass shattered on the floor. "He has not taken him away from me. Nor has he abducted, stolen or bought him, for that matter."
I could see Suzanne clap a hand over her mouth in shock as she realised her conversation had been overheard. People were closing in around us, forming a circle. Even the waiters no longer tried to appear uninterested, but joined the crowd. Everyone knew the final revelation was near.
Unsurprisingly it was the Baroness who asked the vital question.
"What is the Phantom doing with the boy then?" At least she was wise enough not to come up with her own suspicions this time.
"He is his teacher," Christine replied, as if that was the most logical answer there was. "And what a good teacher he is! Soon Philippe will know everything he does." She smiled brightly.
At once discussions erupted everywhere.
"Isn't that very dangerous?"
"Of course it is. How could she let this happen?"
"The poor child! He'll soon become a murderer!"
"And one of us could be the first victim!"
"We should leave immediately."
"We can't do that – the entrance doors are locked!"
Christine stood in the middle of the commotion and seemed to enjoy herself. I was amazed by how calm she had grown. It was as if with every word that left her mouth a weight was lifted from her shoulders.
After a few minutes the conversations died away again. Somehow people had lost their appetite for gossip. It was far less pleasant when the person one talked about was present. A general feeling of helplessness spread. Nobody seemed to know how to cope with the news that there'd soon be two Opera Ghosts instead of one.
"M. le Comte!"
I jumped slightly as the Baron addressed me. Hesitantly I took a step forwards. Apparently most other people hadn't noticed my presence until now, for they were gazing at me in surprise as he went on:
"Can't you help us?".
"I don't know what I could do for you," I murmured. Frankly I was rather certain that all those people needed was a little time to take in the new information. It had been just the same for me.
When her husband didn't go on right away, the Baroness took over.
"It's common knowledge that your wife's nerves have never been the best," she approached the topic carefully. "Surely you'd never allow her to be friends with the Opera Ghost, would you? And the idea that your child your will be his heir is even more ridiculous. Why don't you simply tell us the truth and take the girl away from here? Maybe you could find her a place to lie down. She seems to be very distressed…"
I had been too fascinated by Christine's words to be angry during the last minutes, yet now the feeling returned.
"Are you calling my wife a liar?" I growled.
"But no…" the woman replied uneasily. "We all understand… Such a difficult situation is bound to leave its traces in a young person's mind…"
"So you're calling her a lunatic? Well, that's so much better," I snarled. "To your information: Everything she told you is true. The Opera Ghost and her are friends. Our son is his heir and his pupil. Why I allow all that? I love my wife and trust her to make decisions of her own. Not every woman is as dependent on her husband – Or should I say, his money? – as you are, Madame." I underlined my statement with a nod and took Christine's hand. "Can we go, love?" I asked tenderly.
"Of course, Raoul," she answered.
The crowd parted as we made our way to the door. It was as if we were a king and a queen… or else two people suffering from a contagious disease. For some reason both ideas made me giggle. I felt heady, as if I had drunk much more than the glass of wine that I was just thrusting into a puzzled-looking waiter's hand. It seemed to be the same for my wife; she was still smiling her serene smile.
It was only when the door closed behind us that I realised what we had done, what I had done. Those people would probably never talk to me again. And the gossiping would only increase. I could almost hear the chatting that had to start this very moment in the room we had just left.
´That Comte de Chagny must be out of his mind.´
´He lets his wife be friends with the Phantom.´
´Who knows what they are doing when they're together?´
"Raoul?" Christine said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong with you? You've grown all pale…"
"I'm fine," I mumbled. "Really… I'm fine…"
Suddenly the smile vanished from her face.
"It's me, isn't it?" she asked. "You're ashamed of what I said, ashamed of meeting those people again and having to answer their questions. You're ashamed of having a wife like me, one who doesn't fit in. I'm sorry, but those things in there… they had to be said! I know it's not the way such things are dealt with in your circles. I just like being honest. I could change many aspects of me to become a girl worthy of a Comte. But I can't change what's inside of me. I apologise for being such a disappointment."
She wanted to turn around, yet I didn't let go of her hand.
"You have nothing to apologise for," I stressed. "Everybody in there should apologise. They insulted our whole family. You were very courageous. I'd have never dared stand up against all those people."
"You did," she reminded me.
"Only at the very end," I muttered, shrugging. "I should have supported you much sooner."
"You supported me by simply being there," she told me. "Without that knowledge I wouldn't have said any of those things."
For a moment we were silent, lost in thought. Then she said:
"I still am a little worried, though. What will we do the next time we'll meet them?".
"Oh, that's easy: I'll shout at them, and you'll stay in the background," I replied casually. "There are quite a few things I'd love to tell certain people, and now that I've seen how it is done, I'll finally dare do it."
We beamed at each other, and our lips met in a kiss. It was true that sometimes I couldn't understand what was going on in my wife's head. But at the moment I could, and I liked it very much.