September 16th 1892: Christine
The visit to the seamstress was not as enjoyable as usual. In general I liked looking at the different kinds of fabric, trying to find the best one for a certain piece of clothing. Yet today I had left the choice to Mme.Galantine, watching her kneeling in front of Philippe to measure how much he had grown since the last time we had been here. If there was one thing I didn't care about at the moment, it was the colour of my son's new trousers.
All the time while I was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, sipping tea and waiting for the seamstress to be finished, I thought about my husband's meeting with Erik. I could easily imagine how they treated each other when I wasn't there, and I didn't like it at all. What if they argued or even fought? What if they hurt each other?
Perhaps I should have insisted on Raoul taking me with him. Communication between the two men would have been less complicated when someone who liked both was there. Yet in this respect arguing with my husband had been pointless. If he had to break with old traditions and ask Erik for help, he'd at least do so without an audience. I could understand him, but it didn't make me any less nervous.
I had even done something I'd never admit to anyone: After Raoul was gone in the morning, minutes before we had left as well, I had made my way to his study and checked whether the pistol had still been at its usual place. I had been immensely relieved when I had found it. Yes, I should have trusted him not to be that foolish right away, but I knew how people could react in demanding situations. In such a situation I myself had taken the pistol with me and used it to threaten Erik. It made my heart considerably lighter that my husband couldn't do the same. My former teacher would rather die himself than murder me, but I wasn't sure whether the fact that he was the father of my children protected Raoul very well.
It all depended on in which mood the two men would be by the time they'd meet. My husband would certainly not be happy, but the very reason why he was unhappy, the fact that he needed him, would also let him remain peaceful. He was aware that Erik was important for our lives now. Without him, he'd never be able to go to Norway without fear being his constant companion.
Erik, on the other hand, was an unpredictable factor, for even I couldn't know in which mood he was today. When he'd hear Raoul's question for help, he'd be pleased, that much I could be sure of. But he'd also seize the chance to torment my husband mercilessly, to comment on his inability to protect his family himself. And my husband wouldn't know how to react without making the other man so angry that he'd refuse to help us. Yes, it was good that he didn't have the pistol with him.
If only the seamstress would hurry up a little! I felt as if I were sitting here for years, while important decisions were made somewhere else, without me. Tapping my foot on the carpet impatiently, I waited for Mme.Galantine to speed up. Didn't she notice that I didn't want to be here any longer? Obviously she didn't. Her back was facing me, and the carpet was so thick that not even my foot was making a sound that could have informed her of my wish to go.
I couldn't help wondering whether my husband would already be home by the time we'd come back. I hoped so. Otherwise the waiting would start again, and in our house it would be even more difficult. I'd have to lock the doors to resist the temptation to join the two men at the opera. Actually it wasn't too bad that I was trapped here, at the other end of the city. It kept me from making nonsense.
Taking another sip of tea I tried to relax. What was the worst thing that could happen? Well, Raoul could… and Erik could… No, that was not a good topic. What was the best thing that could happen? That was much better. I forced myself to ponder on what the ideal scenario would be. It definitely included Raoul and Erik speaking to each other in friendly voices, agreeing on a solution that would be best for everyone and my husband leaving the country without worries.
I knew it wasn't very likely that everything would happen like this, but it was a nice fantasy which let the time pass more quickly. When the seamstress announced that she was finished, I had just arrived at the part in which Erik swore to protect us come what may, and Raoul shaking his hand and smiling at him. Maybe it was better if I stopped quickly, before I started believing in it myself.
"You'll get the new trousers in about five or six days' time," Mme.Galantine informed me. "Should I send them to you, or do you want to pick them up yourself?"
"I'll fetch them," I decided hastily. At the moment I didn't trust anything that landed on my doorstep.
The woman nodded and made a note on a piece of paper that she attached to the fabric she had chosen. I threw a brief glance at it, saw that it was dark blue and thick and nodded as well. It looked like a fabric I'd have picked, too.
I stood up and walked over to Philippe, who seemed to be very happy that he didn't have to stand still anymore.
"Can we go now, Maman?" he asked in a low voice, shaking his legs. "It's so boring here… When I'm with Uncle Erik, things are much more exciting." I smiled as I noticed the sparkle in his eyes. Unfortunately his last sentence had been a little loud, though.
"Uncle Erik?" the seamstress repeated with a questioning undertone. "I don't think I've ever heard of him, and I've been working for you for years…" She looked at me as if it were an especially cruel crime not to let her know about everything that was going on in our lives.
"He's talking about his teacher," I explained quickly, before rumours about a mysterious uncle in the de Chagny family could be born. The slight frown on the woman's face disappeared at once.
"So you're having a teacher now, my little one?" she addressed my son. "An excellent idea, Madame. Children learn best at such an early age, that's what I always say. Do you like your teacher, dear?"
He nodded eagerly, even though it was clear he didn't like such terms of affection when they weren't coming from members of the family.
"He's very nice," he told her. "And he's showing me a lot of things no one else can do. I already know how to –"
"Read and write," I interrupted him. I hardly dared imagine what would happen if Philippe said what else he learned. "Yes, he is indeed a very good teacher. But we've got to go now. Goodbye!"
With these words I seized my son's hand and left the seamstress' small shop, before she could come up with any more questions, maybe about what the teacher's full name was or where he lived. The little scene had reminded me that I'd have to talk to Philippe about what to tell people about his Uncle Erik soon. One wrong word could cause a catastrophe. Yet as we reached the coach, he settled down on the coachbox next to Jacques, who reluctantly started explaining how the coach was working. The old butler was marginally more friendly to him than to others, probably because the boy reminded him of Raoul. Quickly I sat down as well.
During the coach ride my thoughts involuntarily wandered to Erik. The idea that he'd be the one to protect us was a good one. He'd easily be able to combine it with his duties at the opera. The most important times when he'd have to be with us would be the nights, and nothing was happening at the opera then anyway. Yes, on that level it would work very well.
The only aspect I was worried about was the personal level. I'd have to spend a lot of time with Erik. How well would I sleep, knowing he was somewhere in the house, watching over us? And how would it feel to have him at my side when I left the house? Would this be my last coach ride without him? Yet mostly I was afraid of myself and how I'd react. In the past, there had been situations in which I had felt a certain attraction to him. What if that happened again? I could find at least a little comfort in the fact that I wouldn't see him more than a few hours every day.
When we arrived home, Raoul was already coming down the stairs to greet us.
"Jacqueline is in your sister's room. Why don't you go to her and tell her about the new trousers you'll get?" he then suggested to Philippe, who nodded and ran up the stairs at once.
"So, how did it go?" I asked as soon as the boy was out of earshot.
Instead of replying right away, he led me into the living room and shut the door behind us. I swallowed hard. That was not a good sign.
"Do you want to sit down?" he muttered, gesturing at the sofa. I grew even more worried. What kind of news were received best while sitting? Not the good kind, that much was sure. Since he remained standing, I did the same.
"All I want is that you tell me what happened," I said urgently.
"Well, I talked to the Phantom, and he agreed to protect you and the children," he answered uneasily. "But there is… something else. He insists on moving in the house and living here all the time while I'll be gone. He wants to… he wants to take my role in the family, Christine."
"What?" I repeated weakly. "No… Please tell me that's not true!"