A/N

A new chapter at long last! Again I want to thank everyone who reviewed the first bunch of chapters back when I first posted them, and to urge you guys to go back and re-read them if you haven't already done so. They've been edited and reworked. After much consideration, I've taken into account some of the plot and grammar suggestions made by my reviewers, and also hopefully fixed some of the formatting issues so that it will be easier to read now. Do let me know! I've also attempted to answer some of the questions that people had regarding Christine's correspondence with Erik and his seeming ease of letting her go.

This chapter is transitional, but necessary. The plot will really start to get moving in the next chapter, which I hope to have posted by New Year's. And now, on with the story.

Disclaimer

Borrow Jane if you like, as she's my own creation and I don't believe in intellectual property. All the other characters though, the ones you recognize, belong to Gaston LeRoux and ALW. I don't own 'em, and I'm not making any money from this story. So call off the Jazz police!

Chapter 4

On the Path

By early Spring, the chagny family had moved to Paris. They had bought a modest house, or rather one which was modest by the standards of the aristocracy, in a little street in the heart of the city not far from the Opera. They settled in easily and, as Christine had suspected she might, Jane took to Paris as though she had returned from a lengthy odesy to her long-lost home. as Christine showed her the cultural life of the capital of Europe, the young governess made no effort to mask her awe at the beauty of the city, or at its sheer size. But wherever they went, to Christine's consternation, Jane insisted upon dressing so severely, so austerely in unrelieved black muslin, that she stood out markedly among the brightly and fashionably attired Parisians by whom they were surrounded. The younger woman seemed however to accept the stares of those around them without protest.

They attended concerts of the symphony orchestras, the like of which Jane had never seen or heard before. These included the performances of new works by a young man just making his name at the Tsar's court in Russia. The orchestras performed his symphonies, as well as concert arrangements of his ballet scores. And these ran from joyful and child-like to as dark and melancholy as one could get. Jane fell in love with them, and asked Christine where she might find a good music store where she might buy piano reductions of this wonderful music. Consequently, Christine showed her several shops which she herself had frequented during her days at the opera and Jane bought all of the music of this new young Russian's that she could find. She bought a great deal of other music as well and, in the evenings at the deChagny house, she could often be heard in the music room until quite late.

Christine also took Jane to the art-galleries where the young governess gazed with delight at the works of Turner, Delacroix, Goya and Degas, which, hitherto, she had seen only prints of in London bookshops. Those prints, Jane thought, certainly did not do justice to the originals. She also found delight in the works of newer artists, such as the Dutchman Van Gogh, whose style she found fascinating.

As with music, Jane gravitated towards those paintings which depicted darkness, storm, battle or great emotion. But she also accompanied Christine to view the paintings of fields and flowers that the Vicomptess so enjoyed.

Afterwards, the two took luncheon at a little cafe not far from the Theatre Lirique where, more than two decades ago, Faust had had its premier before moving to the Palais Garnier. Christine was thoroughly pleased to hear how much her young friend was enjoying the city.

"I suspected you would." The young Vicomptess told Jane as they ate lunch and sipped tea.

"Well then you were very much correct." Jane replied, smiling broadly. "I had no idea that there could be so much artistic life in one place, or so much beauty." She laughed. "Or so many people!"

Christine too was enjoying being back in Paris. As she had suspected she would, she found it far easier to converse with the French than with the English, with no one assessing her rank in society before even deigning to speak to her. She even, occasionally, would run into an oldster who remembered her face from her days at the opera, though it had been a decade ago. She also found it comforting no longer to be fleeing and trying to hide from the memories which the city held. Of course Raoul still hid from them even though he too was back in Paris. But then, it had been different for him and Christine did not know if he would ever truly understand. There were still so many things which she herself did not understand, even though so much had become clearer to her since those days.

"Have you applied to the Conservatoire for an audition yet?" the Vicomptess asked Jane.

"Yes." The younger woman answered in a lowered voice which betrayed her nervousness. "My application arrived yesterday, and I immediately filled it out and posted it back to them."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Christine excitedly. "Have you given thought yet to what you will sing?"

"I have several ideas," Jane replied, "but I haven't made a definite decision yet. I'm auditioning on piano as well, so I'm also looking to choose a suitable piece to play."

"Wonderful! Oh I'm so glad!" Christine cried joyfully. "Perhaps you might play something by that Russian chap whose work you like so much." She suggested.

"Yes." Jane replied after a thoughtful pause. "Yes, I may well do that. He's written a Barcarolle for piano which is particularly beautiful. It may very well do."

It took a full fortnight for Jane's letter of reply from the Conservatoire to arrive, telling her whether or not she had been granted an audition. Her outward calm during those days amazed Christine, who knew that she herself would have been a nervous wreck. It wasn't that the young governess wasn't nervous. She was, and she betrayed it every now and then in her face or her movements. But generally, she was incredibly successful at keeping her apprehension strictly concealed behind a constant mask of indifference. Christine judged that Jane must have resolve and self-control of iron. Joseph-Philippe never suspected anything of being different as she continued to teach him until it was known whether or not she would soon be otherwise occupied.

When the letter finally did arrive, Christine could barely contain her excitement as she brought it to Jane in the room where she gave Joseph-Philippe his lessons.

"I pray you'll forgive me the interruption," the Vicomptess said as she opened the door and held up the envelope, "but I thought you'd want to know right away." She said to Jane, who came over and claimed it from her with extraordinary calmness. Then, to Christine's utter astonishment, she put it in the drawer of the bureau.

"I shall look at it later," Jane said with a calm smile, "once we have finished today's lesson." To which Joseph-Philippe looked disappointed as his brief hopes of finishing early were dashed.

"Well?" Christine asked, as eagerly as a child on Christmas morning, when Jane later joined her in the withdrawing room.

Jane sat down calmly in the chair opposite her, and slit open the envelope with a silver letter-opener. She read the letter, almost without altering her expression. The only indication that it held something momentous was to be found in her barely visible increase in tension. But Christine could not tell if it was due to delight or dismay. The corners of Jane's mouth turned up into a slight, almost smirking smile however as she handed the letter across to the Vicomptess. When Christine finished reading it, she looked across at Jane and smiled broadly.

"You've been granted an audition!" Christine exclaimed excitedly. "Oh Jane that's so wonderful!"

"I still have to pass it and win a scholarship." Jane replied with calm pragmatism.

Yes," Christine replied "but if you do not succeed in doing so, then I shall be forced to think that the judges must be tone-deaf."

Jane chuckled slightly at the Vicomptess's sweet, good-natured encouragement. Frankly, she prayed fervently that the woman was right.

"Christine," Jane began uncertainly "you once performed at the opera I believe you said. Did you not?"

"Yes." Christine replied hesitantly, wondering where this was going.

"Then you've been through these auditions yourself?" the young governess continued.

"Indeed." Christine agreed relieved, for she thought she had an idea what Jane was about to ask.

"If this is terribly presumptuous then I pray you'll please forgive me." Jane began. "But would you perhaps be able to help me prepare? Help me sing properly, and comport myself as I should before the judges?"

"I would be glad and honoured to!" Christine exclaimed excitedly. "Though if I may say so, I think you hardly need it. But if it would greatly reassure you, then I shall gladly do so."

"Thank you." Jane said, visibly relaxing.

So, for the next fortnight, Christine worked with Jane in the evenings after tea, to prepare the younger woman for her upcoming audition. As the Vicomptess had suspected might be the case, Jane actually required very little preparation. It was the confidence which she lacked more than the skill or ability. The main issue was to accustom her to singing standing up, as hitherto she had always, of necessity, sat down to sing while accompanying herself. To that end, Christine called upon the gentleman who played the organ at the Cathedral where they went to mass, to come to the house and accompany their practices so that Jane might get used to singing standing up while some one else played. The Vicomptess also showed her some simple breathing exercises and vocal warm-ups, and was astonished at the improvements which even these little corrections made in the younger woman's voice. She was also struck yet again by how unaware Jane was of her great gift. Christine sorely wished that she could find a way to make Jane hear the gift she possessed, to inspire in her the confidence that she would need to realize her talent.

During that fortnight, Christine wrote to Erik once again. As usual, she concealed the letter to him inside an envelope addressed to Madame Giry and her dear daughter Meg, who had been one of Christine's few friends at the Opera. The envelope did actually contain letters to each of them as well as the letter to her former maestro. Madame would then post, or somehow convey, the Vicomptess never did know by what means, the extra letter to Erik. It was an awkward set-up, but it kept Raoul from knowing of her correspondence with the Phantom, which he certainly would never have permitted had he known about it. As it was, he had been very unhappy about her continued correspondence with the Girys, and had made her promise that she would discontinue that correspondence if it looked as though it were endangering their freedom. She hated to conceal anything from her husband. But neither could she simply cut ties with the man who had given her so much, and who so needed a friend. She could not simply forget that he had ever existed as Raoul could. But then, Raoul had not known him as she had. He had, unfortunately, only known Erik's worse side, his anger and vengeance, and he had been blinded by jealousy every bit as much as the Phantom himself had. Raoul had never known the man, as she had, only the monster. It had taken many years with no sign of Christine's former teacher for the Vicompt to eventually come to believe that they truly were free and safe, and to stop looking over their shoulders, fearing pursuit. But Christine had known all along. Erik had always been a man of his word. If he made a promise, for ill or for good, he kept it. She understood that he regarded it as a point of honour and dignity to keep his word, one of the proofs, the little rays of hope, which he held up to himself that he might not be the monster that even he himself believed he was.

She told him in her letter of Jane's upcoming audition and of their preparations. She told him of the improvements in the young governess's voice, and of her continuing lack of confidence and awareness of her gift. Once she had sealed the envelope addressed to the Girys and given it to her lady's maid to post, she went to her bedroom, locked the door for privacy and, as she always did, prayed for Erik. Again, she felt in her heart that her prayer had been heard. But this time, she also felt that it had been answered, though she did not yet know how.