September 17th 1892: Christine
Signora Marchesi finished practicing about half an hour later. Since this left us with nothing else to do in the auditorium, we made our way down to the cellars. Erik was still holding my hand while we were walking, and despite the fact that I was angry at him, I couldn't help enjoying it. It reminded me of the time when I had been a chorus girl and he had brought me to his home. I had been frightened then, but his presence had given me a little comfort.
I wasn't frightened now. I knew that the most dangerous creature in the cellars – if one could call him that – was currently holding my hand and would have rather killed himself than harmed me in any way. His presence was still comforting in the dark and damp corridors under the opera, though. I could feel that he had the same effect on Philippe, who was talking cheerfully, even though he usually was afraid of the dark.
Still I couldn't afford enjoying the situation too much, or I'd have risked forgetting my anger. And that mustn't happen. I had to talk to Erik about what was bothering me, and I knew I had to do it while I was angry at him. Otherwise his soft voice and loving gaze would make my mind grow blank. Sometimes I wondered whether he was even aware of the effect he had on me.
He chose exactly this moment to throw me one of his sideways glances. Quickly I looked away. Once I lost myself in the depths of his beautiful eyes, I'd only want to kiss him, and I couldn't do that now, even if I hadn't been angry at him. Philippe mustn't see us kiss, or he'd ask questions I couldn't give him an answer to.
Erik gave a sigh and continued his conversation with my son. That only made me more irritated. In my opinion, he didn't have any right to sigh about my behaviour. After all, it was he who taught a little child things that should belong to the lessons of an aspiring burglar. It was he who forced his opinions on him, so that soon my son wouldn't have any of his own left. And those were just the things I had seen this afternoon. Who knew what else he was teaching him when I was not around?
I kept repeating all those facts in my mind till we reached Erik's home.
"Why don't you make a cup of tea for us?" he suggested, once we were all standing in the corridor. "I'll show Philippe how to play some basic melodies on the organ, so that he can continue practicing alone after a while. I'll be with you in a quarter of an hour's time."
I nodded. It sounded like a good idea. I had experienced more than once that a cup of tea could be very helpful for a conversation.
Erik briefly showed me the kitchen and everything I'd need, then he left me alone. I couldn't resist the temptation to have a look around first. It was a nice, clean room, just the right size for one or two people. I couldn't see much food anywhere, yet I didn't know if it was always like that. Maybe he had just not bought more because he had known he'd stay with us for the next days. Judging by how much he had eaten of the meals Larisse had prepared, with the exception of the lunch today, he had a healthy appetite.
It didn't take me long to make tea. Just a few minutes after I had started the teapot and two cups were standing on the small table. A third cup was waiting next to them, for I assumed that sooner or later Philippe would come to get something to drink as well. I could only hope that wouldn't happen too soon, though. Erik and I would need quite a while to talk things over.
I had to wait another few minutes, then the door of the kitchen was opened, and Erik entered the room. I could hear the sound of the organ, but it wasn't as loud as usual. Apparently it depended on who was playing. After he had closed the door, nothing but a faint melody was still audible.
"Philippe enjoys playing the organ," he said, sitting down opposite me. "I think he has a lot of potential. He should practice at home as well, in the music room. He could – " He noticed the way I was looking at him in impatience and interrupted himself. "But that's not what you want to talk about," he finished quickly.
"Indeed," I agreed. "I want to talk about the way you're educating my son. Some of the things you teach him simply aren't suitable for a child. They wouldn't be suitable for most adults either, but they'd at least be able to tell the difference between right and wrong. Thanks to you, it's all growing blurred for him."
"Don't you think that's a little exaggerated?" he asked me calmly. "You make it sound as if I were the devil himself, trying to lure the boy away from the path of virtue."
I couldn't help smiling. The comparison was indeed absurd. Yet it reminded me of something, namely the important fact that I liked Erik very much.
"I don't want to have an argument any bigger or any longer than necessary," I told him. "But you've got to understand that I'm worried about my child. This is nothing personal. If I had the impression that Antoinette's teacher were talking to her about the wrong subjects, I'd be just as worried."
He nodded slowly.
"I do understand that," he muttered. "But haven't we already had this conversation once? You knew from the beginning that I'd also teach the boy things he wouldn't learn from a normal teacher. That's just the point of it. If the abilities one needs to become my heir were taught by everyone, I possibly wouldn't have begun to teach Philippe myself at all. And don't you like the thought that your son will know things only a few other people in the world know?"
It was a question that wasn't easy to answer.
"Maybe," I admitted. "Yet in a way it also scares me to known that my little boy doesn't need keys to enter a room. I mean… I mean, what if he'll do that tonight?"
In the next moment I had the rare pleasure to see Erik blush, at least a little.
"Philippe wouldn't do that," he replied. "At the moment he only opens doors when I tell him to do so. Besides… you've seen how long it takes him till he can actually enter a room. We'd have surely heard him before he'd come in. But I know what you mean. Power has always scared people."
Silence followed his statement. I filled the time while I was thinking about a response by pouring tea into our cups. Reaching for the small jar of honey I remarked:
"That's true. It's one of the reasons why so many people are scared of you, isn't it? They're afraid because you can do things they only dream of.".
"Exactly," Erik said. He seemed to be delighted that I had come to that conclusion.
"But Philippe's only a boy," I went on. "He won't know how to use that power." I didn't add that sometimes I had had the impression that even Erik didn't always know how to use his power.
"That's what I'm teaching him as well," he assured me. "I'm teaching him never to harm a person…"
"…unless they deserve it," I finished his sentence, shaking my head. "Or unless they stand in your way, like the poor Signor Piangi. I don't want my son to start killing people one day, just because they're obstacles to his plans."
By now, I was stirring my tea so furiously that the contents were beginning to spill onto the table. It was a small miracle that the cup wasn't broken yet. The prospect of Philippe walking around in the opera, murdering people whenever he thought he had the right to do so, made me feel sick. That must never happen.
"Just say it," Erik muttered sadly.
"Say what?" I asked in confusion.
"You don't want your precious son to become like me," he explained. "That's what it's all about, isn't it? You still think I'm a bad person. These…" He gestured at the wedding rings on our hands. "… didn't change anything about it."
"No!" I almost shouted. "That's not true, Erik. I don't think you're a bad person. If I did, I'd have never entrusted you with my son. Besides, I wouldn't love a bad person. And I'm quite sure that I love you."
The words had left my mouth before I had the chance to think about them. Only the astonished expression on Erik's face told me I had said something extraordinary.