Late April/Early May 1882
Christine sat in the library, alone with her thoughts as she had become accustom to the past few months. She was in her usual place at the piano but rather than singing or playing scales she had decided to write the invitations that Raoul had nagged her to send. It was tradition for the families of aristocracy to hold a sort of party in celebration of a coming child, an occasion for family and friends to coo over the expecting couple and lavish them with gifts for the newborn. It probably should've been over and done with by her seventh month but up until now she'd found herself unable to face the thought of the entire estate filled with people congratulating Raoul on becoming a father. Christine had finally come to terms with the fact that she'd have to face a lifetime of her husband being called 'father' anyway – best get used to it now.
Christine quickly darted her eyes down the list of people Raoul had insisted she invite, the usual suspects – the Count and Countess De Chagny, her in-laws, his sisters and their husbands, as well as the hundreds of cousins her husband apparently possessed stretching down a page as long as her arm. She sighed as she undertook the task of neatly inking the names on the tops of the cards Raoul had managed to get printed for her (though how much it had cost for him to convince the owner of the printing press to do so, she had no clue) whilst turning over his list to find names of various business partners or fellow patrons: Monsieurs Andre and Firmin were near the bottom. Just a further reminder of the opera house and so a reminder of the events which had taken a place... A reminder of him. She was sick of it, should a woman not be able to leave her regrets in the past?
A kick from her abdomen soon reminded her she would never be able to do this. The infant growing within her was half of the very man she longed to leave behind her but the truth was with this child around she'd never be able to do so. As she continued to scratch the names of people she hardly knew she ached for some familiarity - all Raoul's friends were so cold and fake. They would put on a good show for the public but in reality they were all gossiping about one another behind closed doors, her own husband did so often enough for her to know this. She needed somebody there that she knew would be genuinely happy for her, no matter what the consequences...
Giry, the name flashed in her mind as she thought of her dear friend Meg and Madame Giry who in her own words was 'practically her mother'. The pair of them had known Christine since she was a small, gangly seven-year-old orphan girl sent to the opera house for a fresh start in life. She could trust them, she was entirely sure of it.
So with this mindset Christine swiftly finished the 'proper' invitations and shoved them to the edge of the piano, not bothering to pile them up, before scrabbling for a blank sheet among the music; the best she came up with was a sheet that had half a song jotted on the back and struck through. Sighing at her lack of organisation, she turned the sheet over and began to write the only invite she actually wanted to send:
My dear Meg,
I do hope your mother and yourself are keeping well, in spite of recent events. I wished to write to you in the hopes of gaining your attendance at a small celebration Raoul has insisted we hold in honour of our coming child, on May 25th. It seemed ludicrous to invite all the members of the Parisian upper class while failing to contact the pair of you. I need you and your mother with me, Meg; I need somebody familiar at such a time.
Your Friend,
Madame Christine de Chagny
Christine shook her head at the formality of the final name and quickly scrapped it:
Madame Christine de Chagny
Lotte Daae
She knew Raoul would have a fit if he found her maiden name on the letter but she'd ensure he wouldn't. Instead she slipped the letter beneath her dress in the hopes of finding some kind of envelope to address later on and piled all the rest of the invites into the box that the butler had brought them in. Gathering it in her arms, she marched along the room and out the door before nearly slamming right into one of the housemaids.
"I beg your pardon, Madame," the girl bleated before then trying to take the box from her, mumbling to her. "Oh let me take these for you now, Madame, much too heavy to be carried about by a woman in your condition." Christine sighed at the insistence of the girl before hearing the question: "Where was it you wanted these?"
"I wished to take them to my husband's office," She folded her arms graciously as the girl tried to keep the box balanced in her won grasp.
"Was there a message you wished me to pass onto him?"
"Actually, I believe I will accompany you there..." She paused, trying to find a name to fit the round-faced girl in front of her.
"Marie, Madame. That's my name," the maid looked down at the box as she spoke, concentrating on anything but her mistress.
Christine smiled apologetically: "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to all this yet," she gestured to the grandeur of the halls. "I'll get better, I promise." She laid a hand on the girl's arm and felt it twitch beneath her touch with the strange situation of a friendly lady of the house. "Now why don't we head down?" Christine nudged the girl and as they strolled along she studied Marie with a critical eye.
She couldn't have been older than eighteen, scarily similar to her own age Christine thought, and her round face was pale with rosy cheeks. She was very petite, with deep brown eyes and dirty blonde hair scraped up and underneath her bonnet – she was quite a plain looking girl, perhaps a less attractive version of Meg now she thought about it. She hardly noticed they'd reached the dark mahogany door of her husband's office until Marie tapped on the wood with her knuckles causing Christine to start.
"Come in!" Raoul's voice bellowed from the opposite side of the room and his face displayed his surprise, pleasant though it was, at seeing his wife in his office. "Christine?"
"I finally got round to the invitations you wanted, my love," She went to take the box from Marie but Raoul beat her to it and as he went back to place the box on his desk, Christine muttered a quick: "Merci," to the maid as she left, finally gaining a tentative smile from the girl. Turning her attention back to her husband, she made her request: "Could I trouble you for an envelope, Raoul?"
"No need, Christine, I shall have the butler sort and address these later." He settled back in his chair and looked over what appeared to be some sort of contract; Christine couldn't help but notice the stamp from the Paris Opera House at the bottom. Raoul noticed her gaze and smiled: "The plans to rebuild it. They wish to know if I will help fund the building work."
Christine nodded at the explanation before returning to the previous matter: "I didn't need the envelope for the invitations, Raoul, I was thinking of writing to Madame Giry and Meg." She noticed his creasing brow. "They've been good to me over the years, darling. I wish to maintain such a relationship." He let out a sigh before rifling through his draw and presenting her with a crisp white envelope. She smiled and as her hand went to take it he snatched it and quickly kissed her knuckles before letting her go. Just as she went to leave, she remembered two particular people from the guest list: "Why were Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin invited to the party, Raoul?"
He didn't look up from the contract as he spoke. "All my business partners are invited, Christine. It is important to keep them in our social life."
"Raoul, surely you do not plan to continue with your patronage of the Opera House?"
He gave her a confused look: "Why ever not?"
"After all that has happened to us!" She proclaimed. "You nearly died down there, that madman burnt the place to a crisp and yet you think it is necessary to rebuild it!" Her eyes were like daggers as Raoul rolled his eyes at her.
"Christine, sweetheart, what happened to us was a once in a lifetime problem. Besides the events that occurred that day gave the place more publicity than anything this century!" He stood up and came over to her, trying to take her hand and tilting her head up to him whilst ignoring the face of astonishment he saw there. "I know what we endured was traumatising, my love... But you understand how great a business opportunity this is?" He lightly touched the bump and the child kicked. "My priorities are to keep providing for you and our child, you understand that?" Christine couldn't help but melt at his adoring gaze coming from his soft hazel eyes. This man loved her with all his heart, she could tell.
"I understand Raoul. I trust you," She leant up and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips before leaving him with an uncertain smile. He stumbled over to his desk once more, lightly massaging his temples as he tried to read through the contract once again but soon gave up as the stress of the situation became too much. In all honesty, he hated the thoughts of his patronage at this Opera House as much as Christine but he had no choice. It was what provided his greatest independent income (or it had been before the fire) and without it he knew his family's wealth slowly but surely whittle away.
Christine, meanwhile, had hurried back to the library with the envelope held firm in her grasp. Once she had settled back on the piano bench she gave a quick glance round the room to ensure that she was alone then reached for the note she'd hidden in her dress. Smoothing the paper out and re-reading the note, she then tried to recall when she'd last talked with Meg. She'd said something about her mother taking her somewhere and finally recollected the farewell when Madame Giry had slipped her a piece of paper with an address on. She snatched up the envelope, letter now enclosed and charged down the stairs to the small cloak room that was hidden under them. She threw scarves and shawls to the floor, Raoul's dress coat joining them, as she tried to find her blue jacket that she'd been wearing that day.
"Madame?" She jumped out of her skin at the scene at the sound of the butler's voice. She whipped around and spotted the coat just behind the door he was blocking. "Is there a problem?"
"What? Oh, no problem just looking for something I left in a pocket somewhere," She reached nimbly behind the door and slipped the card she knew would be there into her hand. "But I've finished now, thank you." She gave him a wide grin before skipping off and scanning the address before her:
Coralline Manor, Braxton Drive, Wandsworth, London County, SW18 HF2
She thrust the letter toward the young maid Marie who'd she met earlier, her script now repeating the address along the front of the letter. The girl looked startled to be interrupted from scrubbing the floor of the hallway and looked around timidly as though it may be a trap before standing up, dusting off her apron and taking the letter from Christine's hand. "Would you mind taking this out to the post office for me? Only I don't think Raoul will agree to my leaving the estate." She flashed a smile at the girl who frowned at the request.
"Monsieur Raoul will get angry with me if he knows I've left,"
Christine took her elbow gently and led the girl to the door while explaining: "Nonsense! I'll just tell him I sent you out, Marie," As she opened the door she thanked the girl before closing it behind her and leaning against it. If all went to plan, she would be seeing the Girys in no time...
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So sorry for no Erik this chapter, but the next one will probably be all him I think. Hoping you guys enjoy this and PLEASE review cause no one did last chapter and I know people are reading/favouriting, it doesn't take much just a quick 'Like it' will do – I don't want you guys to be snoring at the screen ;)