Chapter Eleven: Let the game begin

"I never thought I would say this, but I do seem to miss your company at home." Nadir looked around the seating room, which was furnished simply but elegantly. "Are you happy here? Is there any particular reason for having chosen this house? It seems rather small, and the street at the front is quite busy."

"It has enough space for me to work, if I wish," Erik smirked. "Besides, there is a tunnel below this house that leads to my underground home. I have employed only one house keeper to clean twice a week. It is quite private, despite its appearance. If you wish to avoid prying eyes, it is better to live where people are busy making a living."

"Indeed," Nadir nodded. "It is not a good time to appear rich. The Parisians are rather discontent and rebellious at the moment."

"Not a good time to get married to a Vicompte," Erik replied coolly. "She was not that clever after all."

"She is nevertheless married, Erik," Nadir replied, feeling relieved that Erik had been amiably in control of his emotions. He briefly wondered whether he should ask Erik, who Hannah was. In the end, he decided not to mention the name. Erik would be furious if he found out how Nadir had come to know the name.

"I will not touch her against her wishes. If she wishes to remain a virtuous wife against her true desires, so be it," Erik laughed off Nadir's protest. "I believe all the paperwork keeps you busy."

"I can manage helping you with the accounting," Nadir replied with a sigh. "I knew it was too good to be true when you told me all I had to do was to get the place off from the incapable hands of the previous owners. Is there anything else that I can help you with?"

"France will lose the war. Paris will be under siege for months. Stock my lair with enough food for two of us and pay the workers well. I will work them hard, so make sure they are paid well."

"How do you know this, Erik?"

"Instinct," Erik smiled.

Christine swirled around from her reflection in the full-length mirror, as she heard Raoul entering the room. She knew she still looked beautiful and innocent, just as she had imagined what a woman in a happy marriage should look like. And Raoul was her prince charming, looking as radiant as ever. The sparkle in his eyes, every time he saw her smile, was a proof that he wanted and would always try to please her. He was weak, however, despite the fact that his love for Christine was pure. He had shown an uncompromising resolve in his bid to make Christine his wife. Nevertheless, he could fight his parents only so far. As soon as they had relented and gave their reluctant blessings to his marriage to a lowly opera singer, his desire to see a smile of approval from his parents' faces had resurfaced and remained a strong force. When his father suggested that he should join the French army to serve the Emperor and do his family proud, he could not object to these wishes. His country needed him, and defending France against the threats of her enemies is what De Chagnys do. Christine would not love a coward. He managed to convince himself, when the prospect of being separated from her looked rather daunting.

Christine had not asked him whether she could go back to singing, and he had been happy to let the matters rest there. On those occasions when he had seen the look of sadness and loss on her sweet face, he could not altogether avoid the unpleasant thought that she still had feelings for the Phantom, his arch enemy. At the same time, he felt guilty that he might have taken her music away from her.He dreaded the thought of having to fight his parents once again, hoping that Christine's desire for music would not prove to be too strong. That she would eventually find happiness in his love alone. Deep down, he suspected that his hopes were foolish. But, for now, he was happy about the way things were, especially as she had become more cheerful and looked less lost, since her brief visit to the Girys. He was sorry that he had to leave Christine's side so soon.

But if the rumors were true, it wouldn't be too long before the war. He thought hopefully. After the war, I will not leave her side. I will survive the war, because I know she will be waiting for me to come home to her.

"My darling, Christine… you look so lovely." With a slight blush on her cheeks, she accepted his kiss with the grace of a grown-up woman and the charm of child-like innocence.

"I am happy, Raoul," she said. "I cannot believe I'm married to you. We have a life together in front of us. And you are everything that I wished for a husband. But …"

"I'm sorry, Christine … I wish … I wish I could stay longer at your side. It's not fair to you… so soon after our marriage. I will come back to you. You won't be able to get rid of me when I do. Please stop worrying about my safety."

"Would you very much mind if I continued my visits to Madame Giry and Meg? They are rather like my family." Her voice was sweet and full of trust. She instinctively knew how she could get what she wanted from Raoul. Her angel was always difficult to predict. Raoul was safe because he was more predictable. She could only live with those she understood.

"Of course not, Christine. I'm glad you have friends to talk to… while I am away," Raoul replied, enveloping her in his arms.

She kissed him on the cheek, and Raoul knew he could not refuse her anything. He might, after all, have to be difficult with his parents once again.

Christine lay content in his arms, as Raoul fell into a blissful sleep. She wished that he could mean everything to her; that her love was as pure as his. For so long, she had furiously denied her attraction to her Angel, who lived in the world of the shadows. Deep down, she had suspected that he was the much dreaded Phantom of the Opera. That was why she had desperately clung to the Angel of Music scenario, which had been much more comforting to believe, refusing to acknowledge that her angel had been a mere mortal; a dangerous man for that matter. She had loved him and pitied him. At the same time, she had feared his reckless passion and his possessive nature. She had been angry at him for the uncontrollable passion that he had evoked in her heart, passion for the beauty of darkness, the music of the night. She had wanted him and felt appalled by her desire. Her picture of happiness had not exactly included life in darkness with a murderer. She had had no option but to resist her feelings for him, to blame him for everything that had gone wrong between them. It could not have been her fault that his obsession had taken him to the brink of madness. But, since he had vanished from her life, she had found it impossible to shake off the guilt; the thought that she might have destroyed him. The thought of never knowing what it was like to succumb to his promise of true beauty had distressed her along with the sense of guilt that had been eating away at her heart. When she had met the new manager in the Opera Populaire, she had suddenly seen a sign of hope. She understood that he could not possibly be her angel. But it was too much of a coincidence that a man who was so much like her Angel would just appear in her life, without reason. Perhaps the Merciful God took a pity on her soul. Perhaps the man had been sent to represent her Angel. Perhaps he could release her from her torment. Then… only then… could she love Raoul with the same purity of heart.