Amelie Jardin was a petite girl of seventeen with flawless porcelain skin, large, almond shaped emerald green eyes framed with think lashes, and hair as dark as night. She had a beautiful soprano voice that she was able to manipulate to reach very high notes. She also was the understudy to the famous Mlle. Christine Daaé and she had observed that the Prima Donna seemed to have peaked. She now was constantly distracted, weary, and she seemed to have lost some of her passion for music. Amelie was an excellent observer of the human race and their emotions so even though Mlle. Daaé tried to conceal her unhappiness, and fooled many, Amelie perceived all.
Amelie was also a very ambitious girl. From the early days of her childhood she had always dreamed of being a Prima Donna. Her family, now deceased, had always supported her. Now that Christine's talent was waning, she knew she must take action to be promoted. Reyer had already spoken to her about possibly securing the next lead role—or maybe even replacing her in Carmen! But she knew that she must be active to get the role, she could not only hope that things would go her way, she would need to assure her success herself.
And she would stop at next to nothing to realize her dream.
She knew that Christine was very talented. Some great teacher had taught her—but who he was, nobody knew. She wouldn't be able to surpass her by her singing alone, but something had been causing Christine to lose her focus. If she just added more to the list of things worrying her she would surely crack. Christine was not a good friend of hers but she did know a little about her. She knew that she was engaged to Raoul, the Vicomte de Changy, and he was a very wealthy patron of the opera. Amelie reasoned that he must have a great deal of money and come from a prestigious family. If she could ruin them and cause a fight between the pair Christine would certainly go to pieces…
Amelie was determined to be Prima Donna. She did not care what it took. She would secure her desire.
Over the past few days Christine had noticed that Raoul had taken to drinking more than usual. She often saw him with a flute perched in his hand that he always emptied. She knew it was the stress of the loss of money and she supposed that the alcohol helped to soothe his nerves, but she hoped that he was not turning into his brother.
He and his mother often talked of renouncing his Philippe. She thought the idea absurd but had little say in the matter. He would not even try to save him but let him continue down the dark path of an alcoholic. She thought this was cruel—heartless, even.
Upon reflection, Christine realized that Raoul had changed since the day he had rescued her red scarf from the sea. She supposed it was living in the real world and losing his father that had molded him into the more cynical figure that he was now. He was so different. He had once seemed so romantic, full of hopes and dreams for his future with her. Now he was slowly evolving into someone else…a strained businessman obsessed with his prestige, willing to disown his family to retain his standing. But he still loved her, so she clung on to the hope that after they got their money back the stress might melt away and he would be the same man she fell in love with years ago. She knew that his old personality was within him somewhere, but at the moment it was covered with a rough exterior.
Two weeks passed in the same fashion; Raoul anxious and short-tempered, Amelie scheming her sabotage, and Christine trying—but being unsuccessful—to forget the loss of Erik and not let her deteriorating life affect her performances.
Amelie was making progress in her ruse. She overheard Christine Daaé telling Meg Giry that she and the Vicomte had delayed their wedding. This interested her greatly, for when she had said it she had looked very anxious and worried and her voice had been Amelie hadn't heard of the intelligence before so she knew it was a secret. But why? There must be some rationale behind keeping it surreptitious. If she could only find out why and make the disclosed information available to the public then the couple would be put under even more sress.
She was not great friends with Christine—in fact she thought that the Prima Donna did not have the fondest feelings toward her. That was not without reason though, being very competitive she had most likely been a little too hostile towards her. Hence she knew that Christine would not confide in her, but if she could somehow overhear the couple talking then she might find the reason for the delay. Perhaps when the public knew they might even call off the engagement. She continued to watch Christine closely, watch her crumble under stress, and watch for the perfect time to eavesdrop on her and her fiancée.
One evening after a performance she saw the Vicomte hastily grab Christine by her arm and pull her in the direction of her dressing room. She quickly followed them, staying a safe distance far away from them but still close enough to track them as they pushed through the crowd. He scanned the area around the dressing room door before he pulled her inside. Amelie scurried to crouch outside the closed door. She pressed the side of her head against the wood and strained her ears to hear the voices within.
"…after much discussion mother decided she is going to disclaim him. It is final," she heard the Vicomte say.
"Raul, he is your brother!" Christine cried.
"Not anymore. We cannot be associated with a drunkard. It would be best to sever ties with him now before his situation is worse. Have you told anyone about the money?"
The money!
"Only Meg."
"I suppose she is trustworthy. Do not impart it on anyone else."
"Don't worry."
He sighed. "But when we renounce him there is no way we will get the money he gambled away back. Even if he sobers he will not be willing to repay us."
"Raul, there is help for him! But he will not recover without the help and support of family."
"Christine, don't you understand? Our reputation will be ruined if the public finds out that he is a drunkard and a gambler! We must sever ties with him now so that if they ever do find out we will already be separated from him and remain unscathed."
Amelie bit back a smile.
"Is that all you care about, Raul? How people perceive us? Why is it so important? Who care what they think?"
"I have told you Christine, it is much more than that. It is our livelihood!"
"Why don't you understand—"
"Why don't you understand that this society is much different than yours?"
There was a heavy moment of silence, broken by Christine.
"When will you repudiate him?"
"As soon as we can get him sober enough and sign the papers to legally disown him."
"I have not always agreed with your decisions, but this is sick. You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you not see what you're turning into, Raoul? Are you blinded by your own narcissism?"
"No, I am merely trying to save what little respect we retained when I became your fiancé!"
Another moment of silence followed. This time Raoul was the first to speak.
"I am sorry mon cherie, that was uncalled for…oh, do not look so devastated!"
"I—I think I should go now. I am tired."
"Christine, wait—"
Amelie scurried to hide behind an old prop from Don Juan. Christine emerged from her dressing room with dewy eyes. Raoul was right behind her and reached to take hold of her arm.
"I am so sorry, Christine—"
But she shook him off wordlessly and hurried down the hallway alone. Her betrothed made no move to follow her but stood wretchedly watching her go with woeful eyes. He lingered there for a few moments until he dejectedly shuffled off in the opposite direction.
She had her information. Now she only had to divulge the secret. Amelie waited cautiously for a second before setting off for her own bed with a light heart.
Christine trudged to her flat slowly, burdened by a heavy heart. This was one of the worst nights she had had in a very long time. Her performance had been much less than admirable and box five had been packed full; Erik had not attended. He hadn't been to any of the shows since…that night, but before each Christine would allow herself to hope a little that he might appear. She did not know if he was still at the Opera House, but the mirror was broken and she was not quite sure where to enter the Rue Scribe so she had no way to find out.
The words that Raoul had said after the opera were still ringing through her head…No, I am merely trying to save what little respect we retained when I became your fiancé...did he regret his proposal? Would he break off the engagement?
Did she regret the engagement? Did she want to break it off?
No, of course not. She loved Raoul…but it seemed so long ago when they were those two young people in love, free from the reign of the Phantom, and looking forward to their bright future. So much had changed since then—including herself and Raoul.
She wondered if her feelings had changed. She did not get that dizziness in her head when he entered the room, her heart did not beat any faster when he smiled at her, and she no longer felt her knees go weak at his touch. She saw not charm in his face but severity. She had once supported almost all of his decisions, but now she doubted the aptness of many of them.
She had fancied herself in love, but love was eternal and a very complicated, deep feeling. One could not stop loving someone, no matter what they did. It was unconditional. But infatuation decays with time and the change of either of the persons or the circumstances surrounding them can alter it. And as her feelings started to fade, she wondered if really she had ever been in love with him after all.
She shook her head and tried to rid her mind of the ridiculous thoughts. She loved Raoul.
The next day he took her out after that night's performance. He had entered her dressing room with arms overflowing with exquisite flowers and a wide smile brightening up his face.
"Once again, you were stunning," he praised her, setting down the flowers and picking her up to spin her around in her arms. She laughed, and realized that she couldn't recall the last time she had done so. He beamed down at her.
"Some of the patrons were raving about your voice."
Christine grinned playfully. "Did you boast about how that gypsy is your fiancé?" she asked teasingly.
"I—of course," he said, but his smile faltered.
Christine became skeptical. "You—you didn't tell them that we are engaged. You were too humiliated."
"No, Christine, I just didn't—they never asked—"
"A husband should not be ashamed of his wife!"
"I know, mon cherie, and I am truly sorry. They just never brought up your marital status or your personal life, but we did talk of your talent and I lavished praise upon the beauty of your voice.
"I am sure you applauded the actress on stage, but not your wife."
Raoul sighed. "I am so sorry. Please, let's not fight tonight. I brought wine and the night air is uncommonly warm. Let's go out on the rooftop where the stars are our only company and leave the world below," he offered, taking her hands and enveloping them with his larger ones.
A smile crept onto Christine's face, quirking the corners of her lips and lighting up her eyes. This was the Raoul she fell in love with. "Let's," she said, already pulling him out the door. He followed her eagerly, chuckling. His deep laugh filled the halls as they flew past, ringing off the walls and filling her ears with the joyous sound. She felt like she was a girl again without a care in the world as she ran through the corridors and up the staircases.
They arrived on the rooftop breathless and rosy cheeked and opened the bottle of wine. The drink only reddened their faces and increased their giddyness. Christine kicked off her shoes and dangled her feet over the building ledge. She wished that Raoul could be like this all the time but tried not to dwell on his changing nature and just enjoy the night.
AN: Raoul can't be heartless all the time, then Christine would have no reason to still be engaged and no hope that he might ever return to his old lighthearted self. I hope that makes sense. Thanks for reading reviewing favoriting and all that good stuff!