Chapter Seven:

Surprise

The coach wheels rattled below Raoul and he swayed a little in time with its lilting movement. He had been sat in his carriage for the best part of five hours over the course of the day, on his own for virtually the whole time, but for once he didn't mind the silence; he was perfectly content in his own company. He was glad for the time he had to think about what he was going to do when he got back to Paris. He was delighted that his business trip had been a good day or two shorter than he had been expecting, as it meant that he could return to Christine sooner. Raoul hadn't had much chance to think about his fiancée over the past day, so occupied he had been with his work that he had hardly had a spare moment to think about anything other than business reports, finance and suchlike. But now he had a chance to think properly about Christine, and it made him smile to imagine her surprised face when he turned up back at her side so much earlier than expected. Raoul could see her now: one of her slightly auburn curls would probably be escaping from one of its hairpins; her green eyes would light up and her mouth would fall open into a small 'o' shape, as it did in the most adorable way whenever something took her by surprise. In person, she knew that she would be a hundred times more beautiful than his imagination told him, despite that seeming impossible. He loved everything about her face: her eyes, her lips, her hair…

However much Raoul tried not to think too much about her body, for it was not proper for a gentleman, sometimes he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but admire the healthy way in which she filled out her dresses, but she was most definitely not fat. The curves of her assets were impossible not to notice, and yet she still had such a fresh, youthful look about her. She was so incredibly oblivious to the hold that she held over Raoul, although he had no doubt that she loved him. He wondered what features of him she loved. He loved all her little mannerisms: her laugh and the way she would sometimes raise her arms above her head and do a small twirl, especially if she was happy. He loved the small pout that she adopted while she was thinking, when she would press her palms together, rest her chin on top of her fingertips and shut her eyes. He loved the way her eyes would open slowly when she came to a realisation, and how she would hit her forehead with the palm of her hand if she had missed something really obvious. He loved the way she dressed and how all her accessories and jewellery always had to be somehow coordinated. He was glad that she was not the type of girl to wear low-cut, revealing gowns in seductive shades of scarlet or royal blue, and that she didn't feel the need to have diamonds dripping from every bare patch of skin on display. Those types of women were just asking for trouble. He knew that Christine preferred the simpler styles of dress and stuck to more natural, light hues like green, peach or cyan. But he also knew how she liked to wear splashes of black, presumably to remind her of her tutor and the relationship that they had once shared. Raoul had yet to work out quite what their relationship had been. He had clearly been besotted with her to the point of madness, but Christine always seemed to view him more as a father figure than a romantic interest. Raoul was glad of that; the last thing he wanted was a bride who was pining for another man who was long dead and gone. But he had no problem with her having fond memories of times with him. After all, it wasn't like anything was going to happen now, was it? The Phantom was long gone, killed by the mob he supposed. And thank goodness for that. At least he wouldn't be around any longer to spoil his and Christine's perfect new life together.

A quick jolt from beneath him let him know that his coach had arrived, and to confirm, the driver, Alfonso, put his head in through the window of Raoul's seating area.

"Here we are again, monsieur," he said warmly. "The Opera Populaire." Raoul smiled at Alfonso – he was a very nice fellow, after all, and had served the de Chagnys for many years. He offered him his thanks and tipped him, ignoring his hearty protests, before quickly turning on his heel and walking towards the entrance of the great theatre. He shifted the bouquet of roses that he had bought Christine from the crook of his right arm to the crook of his left, and stopped just in front of the gates.

Just before he entered, he felt in the pocket of his tailcoat pocket and felt around for the small gift that he had purchased earlier. His hand finally closed around the small box that contained it, and he brought it out of his pocket and opened it, just to check that the earrings he had bought for Christine were still there. The jeweller had offered to help him pick them, but he had insisted on choosing them himself, so he could truly say that the gift had come from his heart. He had often seen Christine wearing a pair of small onyx drops, and he had endeavoured to find the loveliest pair of onyx earrings in all of France, in the hope that she could wear them too. He felt that he had succeeded, too. They were made of platinum (nothing less than perfect for his Christine), and from each hook fell a large, teardrop-shaped onyx stone, each framed by a border of tiny glittering diamonds. They were quite a simple design really, but Raoul loved the way that the black was in complete contrast to the glittering clear that surrounded them, and he felt certain that Christine would feel the same. He hoped that they would remind Christine of her tutor and Raoul at the same time, her tutor being the onyx and Raoul being the diamonds: equally precious but so different. He smiled once more at the box, shut it and put it back in his pocket, walking swiftly forwards and bounding up the steps that led to the opera house's foreboding doors.

A few minutes later, he was making his way through the long and winding corridors on the upper levels of the building, weaving through gaggles of newly hired chorus girls who were eagerly gossiping about the new production that was happening soon. Raoul kept his head down and tried to be inconspicuous, but as soon as the teens saw a handsome young man making his way through their midst, they all immediately fell to giggling and whispering to each other, most of them blushing profusely. Raoul just scowled at them and carried on towards the end of the corridor in which Madame Giry, Meg and Christine resided; he was almost shaking from excitement at the prospect of seeing Christine's surprise when he turned up in her room so much earlier than she had expected him to return. Finally, he managed to shake of the remaining straggling ballet girls and reached the door of Madame Giry's bedchamber. He thought it would be more proper to go and see Antoinette before just marching into Christine's room, however much he would have liked to just do that. Damn propriety.

He stopped in front of Antoinette's room and rapped sharply on the door – years of being brought up as a Vicomte had taught him always to knock loudly on a door, so that there would be no mistaking who it was. A few seconds later, Antoinette opened the door slightly, but opened it fully when she saw the young man standing before her.

"Raoul!" she said, perhaps too brightly. "We were not expecting you until at least tomorrow evening! What brings you back so soon?"

"My business trip finished early," Raoul explained. "It turned out it was not quite as urgent as we originally thought. We only had to sort out a few accounts of men who were being meddlesome and gambling away their fortunes, and that was that! So I thought I'd surprise you all by coming back early! Where is Christine? I would have liked to have seen her straight away, but I didn't think it would be proper to barge into her room unannounced. Could you tell me where she is?" Antoinette couldn't help smiling at Raoul – ever the gentleman. But her smile quickly faded when she thought of Christine's current state. What was she going to tell Raoul? Perhaps it would be the best course just to tell him the truth, so she took a deep breath and began.

"Christine is…rather incoherent at the moment." Raoul narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well…she…er…" she decided to cut straight to the point, so she stood up straight and looked directly at Raoul. "She has been drugged with a powerful sedative." She saw Raoul's eyes widen and a thousand questions dance on the tip of her tongue, but she held up her hand. "We don't know why, we don't know by whom…but she will be absolutely fine in a few hours. She's sleeping at the moment while the drug works its way out of her system, so she is not really in any fit state to receive any visitors at the moment." She looked at the young man apologetically. "Please understand that the same rules apply for anybody, not just you because you are a man." Raoul looked pleading.

"Could I not just poke my head round and see her anyway? Just so I know that she's perfectly fine. I don't have to wake her or talk to her or anything – that can all wait until tomorrow. I just want to confirm that what you say is true." Antoinette hesitated, but then relaxed.

"Of course, my dear. She is in Meg's room at the moment – that is where we found her. The drug appears to have been giving her the most heinous nightmares, as that is how Meg found her. She was screaming and thrashing around in a most violent manner, but we don't know who gave her the sedative, or how she got into Meg's room. We don't know anything, really." Raoul nodded, and followed Madame down the corridor to Meg's chamber.

He quickly peeked in to the sight of Christine curled up on the bed, sleeping peacefully. It was hardly believable that just a few hours ago she had been screaming and kicking in a fitful unrest.

"She doesn't look as if she's been drugged," he whispered, but the small sound made Christine's eyes flutter open. They were unfocused as they tried to make out the man stood in front of her.

"Raoul?" she whispered. "What are you doing here?" Antoinette nodded.

"She's much better than she was. Before, she couldn't even talk without slurring and falling straight back to sleep." Raoul rushed to Christine's side and took her hand.

"It's all fine, my love," he said kindly, brushing a few strands of hair away from her forehead. "You're going to be alright. Madame Giry and Meg have been looking after you." Christine looked up slowly at Antoinette.

"What…happened to me?" she asked quietly. The older woman just smiled.

"There is plenty of time for explaining later. To cut a long story short, somebody injected you with a powerful sedative – enough to knock you out for a couple of days. But as you see, you are much better now." Christine nodded heavily.

"My head…it feels funny."

"It will do for a few hours more," Antoinette reassured her. "But after that you'll be fine. You'll be up and about again as normal by dinner."

"What time is it now?" Christine asked. Raoul looked at his pocket watch.

"Half past four." He smiled at her again. "So only a couple more hours, right Madame?" Antoinette smiled and nodded. Christine's eyes were beginning to droop shut again.

"Tired…so tired…" she mumbled. Antoinette motioned to Raoul, and he kissed Christine's forehead again and stood up.

"I'll be round at seven o'clock to pick you up for dinner," he said, but received no response. Christine was asleep again. He smiled again and left the room quietly with Antoinette.

"It was horrible, Raoul! There were all these shards of glass everywhere, and then you floated towards me in a bubble, and I thought you were going to rescue me! But then you just reached out and cut my face with a knife that turned into your hand. It was awful! But at least it was just a dream, I suppose…" Christine was now talking animatedly at the dinner table. As promised, Raoul had come to collect her from her room two and a half hours after he had talked to her, and she was up and about as Antoinette had foretold. He could hardly stop smiling at her now, as she looked so much like her usual self – tucking into a large plate of chocolate tart for their dessert. There was no trace of the drunken-looking girl from twenty four hours ago, and Antoinette was pleased at the progress she'd made, and relieved that the sedative hadn't been more complex than she had originally thought. All three of the others sat at the table – Raoul, Antoinette and Meg – were smiling at the improvement in Christine. The hungry teenager inside her made an appearance as she finished her last mouthful of dessert and looked down disappointedly at her empty plate.

"Well, they do say that all good things have to come to an end…" Raoul laughed at her downbeat expression, and Antoinette sensed that her and Meg ought to leave the couple alone for half an hour or so.

"Come along, Meg!" she said briskly. "Let's give Raoul and Christine some space!" Meg smiled mischievously and followed her mother out of the room, giving Christine one more smile before closing the door.

As soon as the mother and daughter had left, Raoul turned to Christine and planted a fervent kiss on her lips. As he drew away, he saw her looking at him in surprise, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I've been waiting to do that ever since I got back," he said simply. She smiled, stood up, walked round to the back of his chair and threaded her arms round his neck, leaning into the hollow of his shoulder and closing her eyes. She sighed.

"I'd planned to go into the market yesterday with Meg and look for a wedding dress." Raoul looked up at her disappointed tone. "I never imagined…" Raoul turned his chair around and sat Christine on his lap.

"None of us did, Christine," he said firmly. "You were not to know what was going to happen. None of this is your fault. You know that, don't you?" She looked down and fiddled with her engagement ring.

"I know…" she said. "I just wonder who drugged me. Why would they want to do anything like that? I can barely remember anything from before my nightmare, apart from walking down to Meg's room to wake her up. After that, it's all orange and bubbly." She giggled despite herself. "Perhaps it was Carlotta or someone like that. She's never liked me, has she?"

"Perhaps…" said Raoul sceptically, although secretly in his mind, he thought he had quite a good idea of who could have drugged Christine.