Behind Closed Doors
Raoul was still sleeping when Christine left that morning. She bent over the bed and kissed him swiftly on the cheek before leaving the elegant room that served as their bedchamber. It was a beautiful room, decorated in cream and blue and silver with expensive pine furniture. Almost everything in their home was expensive, for Raoul would only have the very best for himself and his adored wife.
"We can afford it, so we're having it." He had said firmly when they were first wed. That had been three years previously and since then, Christine had grown accustomed to his way of seeing and doing things. She dressed a certain way, did things in a particular fashion and was always a picture of elegance and dignity. She had done this for two reasons. The first was that she loved her husband dearly. The second was that her job required her to be a figure of importance and how she looked a statement.
Her job was one of importance to both herself and to Raoul. The de Chagny family was well-known for its wise investments and clever business moves. Whilst the family was involved in such activities as industrial produce and were also partners in a highly successful law firm that was based in America, manned by Raoul's elder brother, Philippe, they had, around two years previously, become patrons of the prestigious Opera Populaire. The opera house had fallen upon hard times and had been on the verge of closing when Christine had read of their plight in a local newspaper. She had immediately implored Raoul to fund the ailing business and he had agreed, unable to deny her this that she so desired.
In short, Christine had taken up place as supreme manager of the Opera Populaire after the de Chagny family had made the investment, which had been of great worriment to Philippe. But their gamble had paid off and the Opera Populaire was now a place of great artistic value and culture for the area. Christine was primarily responsible for the intake of money and for the upkeep of the opera house. Her job was arduous and she often felt swamped in the business.
But to be so close to the sweet music and thrilling world that was the opera, her labour was a small price to pay. Christine often walked around the opera house, pretending to be inspecting and making note of everything that was going on. In truth, however, she was lost within the rich music and bustling activity. She would stand and watch the dancers as they glided across the stage, arms and legs and impossibly beautiful angles as they spun and leapt and soared. She would listen with the greatest pleasure to the orchestra as they rehearsed, taking in every note from every instrument and being impossibly thrilled by the sensation. She would listen to the singers, from the chorus with their stunning blend of voices, to the tenors with their beautifully deep tones. She would listen to the leading soprano, a beautiful woman named Carlotta Guidacelli with an equally stunning voice.
Christine took in all of these sensations like an addict, constantly craving the beauty and longing to be part of it. But instead, she simply looked and listened. To an outsider, she was coolly contemplative, listening indifferently and watching with the eyes of a businesswoman, who wanted to make a mint on their next production.
In truth, she probably loved music more than most of the people who worked in the Opera Populaire.
On this particular day, Christine was sat in her office, reading through the mail that had arrived that morning. She took out her hand-held computer and made a list of the replies she would need to make, in order of urgency. Most of it was very insubstantial information, but would cause terrible offence if it wasn't replied to immediately. She sighed and reached for the final envelope, slitting it open with the blade of her letter opener. Another application for a dancing position that wasn't open. The Populaire received countless CV's and letters everyday and most of them were put into a folder and never looked at again. Christine didn't deal with this sort of thing, but occasionally one ended up in her office. She read briefly through the list of qualifications. Relatively interesting but nothing groundbreaking. She stood and walked around her desk to go and place it in the file room.
As she strolled along the corridor, a couple of dancers passed her.
"Good morning Mrs de Chagny." One said brightly.
"Good morning." Christine replied swiftly. She didn't know the girl's name. The pair continued on, gossiping about the other dancers and giggling. Christine turned a corner and found herself at the door to the file room. She pushed open the door and glanced around at the countless cabinets of information. She wandered along until she found the right one for this particular letter and slipped the pieces of paper inside. Another dream put to an abrupt halt.
Christine decided to go to the main theatre and see how rehearsals were going. The marble corridors were deserted, signalling that the rehearsal had started. The hollow clicking of her heels on the floor echoed around her. She was wearing a black skirt and blazer, with a plain white blouse underneath it. Her blonde hair was tied back and clipped up out of the way. She wore a light layer of mascara but no other make-up. Raoul had told her that she was too lovely to wear make-up and, if truth be told, he was right. Whenever she'd tried to add a little more she'd ended up looking clownish, something that had caused her more than a little annoyance.
She pushed open a side door and stood near the back of the theatre, watching the rehearsals. A stressed looking gentleman was attempting to situate the singers and dancers on the stage. His name was Mr Mercier, with dark grey hair, a thick moustache and an eternally beetroot-toned face. The orchestra were talking amongst themselves whilst they waited, only to be scolded by Mr Reyer, the conductor. Two further men were sat in one of the rows, pointing to various people and muttering or shaking their heads. These two were Mr Armand Moncharmin and Mr Firmin Richard, the two under-managers. Neither of them had a musical bone in their bodies but they were, at least, capable enough to manage thins without bothering Christine all day. Richard caught sight of Christine standing alone and leapt to his feet, waving her over to join them. She did so and Moncharmin beamed at her.
"Mrs de Chagny, everything is perfectly under control."
"So I see, Mr Moncharmin." Christine said. "Although I might be slightly more convinced if the rehearsals were actually underway."
"A few minor setbacks."
"We can't really afford setbacks at this late stage. This opera opens in a fortnight and it must be perfect." Christine said firmly. She folded her arms and watched as the performers scurried to their opening places. Moncharmin and Richard exchanged anxious glances as the music began and Christine observed with a critical eye.
After ten minutes she glanced at the pair.
"I'll be in my office." Moncharmin watched as she walked away and then turned to his colleague.
"Perhaps we should tighten up rehearsals. Ensure that they run more smoothly."
"You read my mind." Richard replied.
Most of Christine's day comprised of going over tedious paperwork. She sighed heavily, which did nothing than break the quiet air for a moment, before reaching for her coffee cup. The dark liquid was now cold. Christine put the mug down again and looked up as there was a knock at the door.
"Come in."
Mrs Giry entered. The ballet mistress was a strict looking woman, with long hair in a tight plait and a lined face. These lines, and the few grey hairs in the plait, were the only signs of her age for her movements were limber and smooth.
"Mrs Giry, what can I do for you?" Christine asked, putting down her pen. Giry stood opposite her desk and said calmly,
"I need permission to hold auditions."
"Auditions?"
"Two of the ballet girls had just informed me that they are taking their leave. An opportunity has arisen for them to attend RADA and obviously I cannot deny them the chance."
Christine sighed.
"No, of course not. I assume you'll be able to find a couple of girls and train them in time for the opening night?"
"I will, Mrs de Chagny." She sounded almost insulted at Christine's doubt. "If possible, I'll hold them on Saturday afternoon in the dance studio. I also need permission to look into the files."
"Go ahead. Anything you need. Just make sure that they're ready." Christine said, picking up a sheet of paper and scanning it. Giry nodded and then looked at her closely. She paused for a moment before asking,
"You were watching rehearsals this morning, Mrs de Chagny?"
"For a few minutes, yes." Christine said, not looking up.
"What did you think?"
She paused, and then met Mrs Giry's eye.
"From what I saw, it was going well. I wouldn't expect anything less than perfection, but I'm afraid that there is still a lot of work to be done."
"Hmm." Giry made a non-committal noise and then inclined her head. "I shall begin organising the auditions. Will you come to observe them?"
"I might. I'll have to check my calendar first." Christine replied. Giry left the room and Christine tapped a pen slowly on the desk, considering the auditions. Perhaps she would go and watch them. She liked having a vague idea of who was working in her opera house. Of course, she knew the basics. She could recite by heart the number of stagehands, how many in the chorus, how many dancers there were.
She knew very few by name, though.
The telephone rang shrilly, breaking her from her reverie. She picked it up and smiled as she heard a familiar voice.
"Hello Raoul. What's wrong?"
"Does there have to be something wrong for me to call the love of my life?" He sounded hurt, but she saw through it immediately. Christine pulled a blank piece of paper and began to doodle on it as they spoke. She described what she had seen of the rehearsal and then asked him about his day.
"Very dull, I won't bore you with the details." He replied cheerfully. She heard someone talking in the background and he replied. "I've got to run. I'll pick you up at five?"
"I don't mind walking, Raoul."
"Well, I do. I don't want my gorgeous wife walking around where anyone can lust after her. Call me selfish, but I prefer to keep you all to myself." He said firmly. Christine smiled and said,
"Fine. I'll see you at five."
"Good. I love you." His voice softened slightly at the last three words.
"I love you too." She replied quietly before placing the phone slowly back into the cradle. Her light blue eyes went to the silver frame on her desk. Encased in it was a picture of herself and Raoul, taken on their honeymoon. They were young and carefree and led beautifully simple lives. Christine adored Raoul, but she felt as though she had become older than her years in their marriage. She sometimes wished that they could go back to those sweet and easy days. But she couldn't exactly complain. Her life was comfortable and full of love. How many people could even claim to have that much?
Raoul de Chagny leant against his car, waiting for his wife. Rehearsals had ended half an hour previously but gaggles of people still emerged, chattering excitedly and laughing amongst themselves. A couple of ballet dancers were perched on the rails by the entrance, talking. He looked through his dark glasses at them before turning his attention back to the door. Dressed in a dark, well-cut suit, his tie was now flung in the back seat of his car. He refused to wear them unless it was absolutely necessary. His blonde hair was cut stylishly short, his face was clean-shaven and he was undeniably attractive, causing more than one woman passing to throw him an appreciative look up and down before moving on.
His mouth spread into a handsome smile as Christine stepped from the building. She returned the smile and stepped lightly down the flight of steps to the car. He tossed her bag into the car and then pulled her close for a kiss, his hands on her waist. She smiled and said,
"Ready to go?"
"Absolutely." He agreed, holding the door open for her. She grinned.
"What a gentleman."
"For you, nothing less." He said, closing the door and circling the car to climb into the driver's seat.
The two dancers by the top of the stairs watched the car drive away.
"Don't they make an amazing couple?"
"They look like models." Her friend agreed. "It's a pity. He's so gorgeous!"
"Tell me about it!" Meg laughed, swinging her legs idly. "But they're so into each other. We haven't got a chance."
"And Mrs de Chagny is a good manager. Remember Mr Poligny? Urgh!" Jammes pulled a face at the elderly ex-manager. "At least Mrs de Chagny vaguely knows what music should sound like. Even Moncharmin and Richard don't know what they're doing if it doesn't involve money."
"I suppose so." Meg glanced at her watch. "I think Mum's working late tonight, trying to sort out those auditions. Want to get something to eat?"
"Sure, I'm starving." The pair set off in search of refreshments, dropping down the steps and gossiping their way towards the street. But their comments had not gone unheard.
After dinner that night, Christine and Raoul retired to the sitting room. The room was filled with dark furniture and boasted an emerald décor. A brightly burning fire illuminated the grate as Christine read on the sofa and Raoul spoke on the telephone to his brother about business, strolling the room. A servant came in, carrying a silver tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He placed it on the table and left without a word. Christine marked her place in the book and poured the rich liquid into the glasses, passing one to Raoul, who smiled his thanks.
"Yes, I've sorted all of that out. Christine is here, if you want to talk to her about the Populaire? Uh huh…" He put a hand over the speaker and spoke to Christine, "He just wants a quick word about the Gounod."
"Of course."
She reached for the telephone and struck up conversation about Gounod's Romeo and Juliet, the new opera. She wisely chose not to mention the auditions, as this would only cause her brother-in-law undue stress. After assuring him that the opera would be a marvellous success, she said goodbye and put the phone down. Raoul grinned and sat on the sofa beside her, pulling her close to him.
"You sound very positive about this opera."
"It'll be fine, they always are. I need to go in on Saturday, though. Antoinette Giry is holding auditions for a couple of new dancers."
"That sounds worrying." Raoul commented, caressing her light curls. She smiled.
"It's nothing to worry about. She's assured me that they'll be ready in time. Besides, your brother isn't coming back for the opening night."
"He's not?"
"Not, but he'll be back in a month's time for a week or so." Christine explained. Raoul tapped her nose.
"Change the subject. I don't want to talk about work all night."
Christine smiled and wriggled so that she was lying with her head in his lap.
"Fine. Strike up a conversation piece and we'll discuss it to your heart's content." She said. Raoul considered carefully before saying,
"I think we should go away. Not right now, not with the opera so close and me finishing up on this business deal. But maybe in a few months. We could get away; maybe go to the villa in Greece. Or anywhere you want, really." He said, still stroking her hair with a loving hand. Christine looked up at him and then smiled.
"That sounds wonderful, Raoul."
"I thought so too."
"I don't know what I did to deserve someone as good as you." She sighed lightly, closing her eyes. Raoul grinned.
"You seduced me with your charm and beauty."
"And a red scarf?"
"Oh yes. I never would have married you, if it weren't for that scarf." He teased. Christine smiled but didn't open her eyes. Raoul continued to stroke her blonde curls. She was so… perfect. He knew very well what image she portrayed to the people at the opera house. An ice queen, no friends to speak of, no contact with anyone unless it was for business. He knew the real Christine. The sweet, charming, endearing girl that she truly was.
He picked up his wine and sipped it, allowing the berry-filled liquid to flood his mouth as he watched the fire dwindle in the hearth and Christine drifted into comfortable slumber.
A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews! I hope you liked this chapter. I just wanted to establish Christine and Raoul as a couple and Christine's place in the opera house before I get on with the main plot. And, yes, this will be Erik/Christine but there is going to be a lot of Raoul/Christine too. Because, now I've written it, I can't help but think that they make an adorable couple! I hope I'm sticking with Leroux here, although there are a few movie/musical references. That's because I just prefer Giry as a ballet instructor and sometimes I just feel the need to mix it up a bit, if you know what I mean. Leroux doesn't always work in a modern context and ALW doesn't either. Hopefully, by mixing them around, I'll be able to get it just right.
Love
Katie