The city was bustling on this very busy mid-week morning. Paris was abuzz about the Opera House reopening by summer. Soon the refurbished dormitories would be brimming with ballerina's, the stables filled with horses and sheep, the marble halls finely polished, fresh paint, and glittering new chandeliers giving the Opera House even more opulence than it possessed in its former life. The auditorium now boasted nearly a hundred more seats, and several more boxes for the aristocrats. The still-wet coat of lacquer on the just-hewn oak floor of the stage gleamed as the morning sun danced across it from the new stained glassed windows high above.
The architectural integrity of the building had been preserved, and several finer embellishments had been added to further the grandeur of this principal pride of Paris. Mr. Andre, Mr. Firmin, Monsieur De Chagny, and the Vicomte had been busy, yes very busy indeed.
The rebuilding process had been aided greatly in many ways by raising of funds in social circles, and the unexpected find of the "original" blue prints for the Opera House itself which included the new refinements that they included in their plan. Had they known the true authenticity of the plans that they found, they would have snarled in disgust at the indignation of them. For they were not the originals of the first architects as they presumed, but rather Erik's incarnation of what HE believed to be the perfect acoustical and structural design of a building that would provide shelter to the greatest Operas the world would ever know. Both the drafter of the plans and those that fulfilled them would be surprised if they knew….both would be in awe and in anger…but the Opera House had a life of its own, and opulence and mystery were its calling cards…lest any man should boast.
Meg was dressed and ready for the day. It was both with happiness for the glorious morning, and melancholy of the task at hand that she greeted it. She had promised Christine that she would visit that place…after all it was the anniversary, and Christine had never missed one since she'd come to live in Paris.
She was sipping her morning tea in the parlor when she heard a knock at the door. The butler opened the door and greeted the person who Meg had been expecting. She rose, straightening her dress, placing the cup back in its saucer.
"Good morning Meg!" came the familiar voice. Meg smiled, reaching out her hand for the customary greeting. "Are you prepared for our visit this morning?" Meg nodded her head, "let me fetch my cloak" she replied. The maid appeared from behind the French doors, cloak in hand assisting Meg in securing it about her neck. "Shall we?" an extended arm, escorting her out of the parlor and to the carriage waiting outside. The morning breezes were particularly pleasant this fine spring morning, and Meg couldn't help but smile, even knowing what lay ahead of them. The footman closed the door to the carriage, it baring the crest of the family who owned it, the De Chagny family.
The carriage rattled through the streets of Paris, past all of the construction that was going on about the Opera House, the last parts of the outside being finished. The markets were open, and the busy innkeepers were seeing their guests off with warm cups of coffee, the merchants putting out their placards. Soon the cobblestone streets gave way to the compacted gravely roads of the countryside. The meadows were still low; new grass and flowers just beginning to fill in the vast fields; their fragrances filling the air with a sweet heady scent.
Meg glanced away from the window saying "thank you for bringing me Raoul, I know this must be difficult for you." Raoul replied "it is my pleasure to accompany you Meg" he paused looking out the window himself "he would have been my father-in-law had things turned out differently, it seems only respectful that I should be there too."
Meg looked down and over to Raoul, but he did not return her glance, he was staring out at the vast countryside. Meg had grown quite fond of Raoul during her numerous visits, and felt as though he was feeling the same. Comments such as this one left little doubt in her mind that he still pined for a woman he believed to be lost or dead. The real truth and her deception she feared, would be her undoing if he should ever find out. The agony of it was nearly unbearable for her. If he knew what she knew, he would never forgive her…never accept the truth…the reality of the truth….
Raoul pulled his eyes away from the countryside to look at Meg, reaching out to touch her hand comfortingly. He glanced down at the flowers that were in a small bucket on the floor of the carriage. "They were Christine's favorite" he said. "She talked about how her father used to pick them for her at the house by the sea…when we were children….he would fill the house with flowers for her to brighten her spirit. I, being the impish boy that I was then, thought it odd that a father would go to such trouble for his daughter….I simply did not understand the love…."
Raoul's stopped…he'd been down this torturous path too many times in his mind…it had to stop! It was a poisonous fester that taunted him daily…if he'd let it. He turned to Meg, clearing his throat, his gaze revealing the emotional shift his mind had just made. "After paying our respects Meg, would you be kind enough to accompany me for lunch at the Starboard?"
Meg smiled, sensing the change in his demeanor moving from the past to the present. "I would be most delighted to. Will your father and sister be there?" Meg inquired. "Why yes, I believe they will be. My sister has become quite obsessed with trying to find the perfect dress to wear to the gala. She's been shopping for over a month now, and has yet to find it! Perhaps after lunch you could go with her Meg, she would no doubt love the company. Her maids are rather tiring of it, I heard them say as much when I paid a visit yesterday."
Meg smiled. Raoul's sister was a pleasant woman, about six years older than Meg, but friendly and warm, rather unlike her father. It amazed Meg how she had such a gentle demeanor having grown up in a household with the two men. "I'd like that very much" Meg said.
The pair fell silent as the carriage turned onto the long road that led up to the cemetery. Meg had only been to the perimeter, never having followed Christine to her father's grave. She silently hoped that she would be able to find it without appearing too foolish. She knew it was a grand mausoleum, surrounded by large arc-angel sculptures, somewhere towards the back, but that was only from Christine's sketchy descriptions of it.
As the carriage began to wind through the narrow paths, Meg found herself wondering how the driver knew where to go without instruction. Raoul's eyes had grown somewhat glassy, an odd silence had overtaken them. Meg turned sharply when Raoul wrapped on the roof of the carriage, "stop here" he said in a loud firm voice. Meg cocked her head, and inquisitive look now on her face. Raoul looked over at her, then turned his face toward the floor of the carriage, he said "I suppose she never told you…she probably never told anyone." Meg was more confused than ever as the carriage door opened, the footman reaching in to assist her exit.
Meg stood looking up at the large marble structure, moss growing up its northern side, DAAE inscribed on its crown. The carriage pulled away a respectful distance. Raoul had retrieved the flowers from the bucket, the water from the stems now pattering softly on the ground, some on the surface of his boots as he joined Meg at the steps in front of the grave. Meg turned to look at Raoul. "It is a true friend who would do this for her" he said looking at her.
"How did you know.." Meg began, but Raoul replied knowing full well the question. "The last time Christine came to visit her father," Raoul paused, flashing back to that day, "she came for his guidance." Meg was looking at Raoul, no idea how he knew this. "Christine had woken in the dormitories in the middle of the night, having decided she needed her father's help to say good-bye to that monster."
Raoul looked at Meg, reaching out he touched her shoulder, and continued "she truly believed that he was an angel that her father sent to her…she couldn't bare to think of letting him go, but knowing full well she had to before we could marry." Raoul turned his head looking over to the stone where his blood had been spilled. He walked several steps away, looking up into the spring sky. "I followed her, the hansom told me where they had gone…Christine didn't even know who had driven the carriage, for if she had, she might have thought better of it."
Raoul looked back down again "by the time I reached her, he had already set his trap and was luring her into it." Anger now flashed in Raoul's eyes. "If only she'd let me finish him then…." His voice trailed off. Meg asked "finish him?" Raoul spun around, "yes, I had him on the ground, though I must say he put up a good struggle, his sword was on the ground and I nearly had him, but Christine begged me not to….." Raoul looked up at Meg, fully aware that this was the first she'd heard of it. "If I'd finished him that day, we wouldn't be standing here right now."
Meg looked down, she didn't know quite what to say…perhaps there was nothing to say. Meg walked over to him, reaching down and took the flowers from his hand. She walked over to the steps, glancing up she noticed a small urn near the entrance, the remains of wilted and decaying flowers brimming over the top. She walked up the steps and slowly removed the old, replacing it with the new bouquet. Lowering her head silently saying "please forgive me for this, please forgive me for all of this. I am sparing one, while deeply injuring another. Please forgive me."
She turned to go down the stairs, finding Raoul at her side. He reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him in a warm embrace. He began to cry. Meg put her head on his shoulder, rubbing her hand along his back. She at once felt guilty, he was her friend, had been Christine's fiancé, but now she was married, a swirl of emotions raced through her mind, she couldn't think of him that way, she couldn't…"
Raoul pulled away from Meg, "forgive me," he said, turning from her, a sudden blush rising from his neck. "I've not been quite myself…not for a long while Meg. Christine was like your sister…I'd not want to disrespect her memory." Meg looked down, no doubt Raoul shared her shame…if only he knew…
Meg walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, she tried to comfort him "we both struggle with this Raoul, do not worry that you are alone…it is difficult for us all." At last feeling relief that she was not lying, for it was difficult, very difficult…for them both.
Raoul turned, offering his arm once again to Meg. The two were arm in arm, facing Christine's father's grave. "God be with them…wherever they are" Raoul managed to say, as he turned and led Meg back to the carriage.
Though the growing distance placed a comforting barrier between them and the footprint of earth that had been witness to so many things in the shadow of that grave, the memories lingered. A swirl of fresh spring air whistled over the ground as if it were the rising tide of the sea….all things were becoming new…a new day was dawning.