Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters, they are the brainchilds and brillian of Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Chapter six.
When Christine returned from the Opera House, she paid the carriage driver a copious amount of money to keep the destination of her morning's outing a secret. Knowing Raoul, he would most likely double check with him, to confirm that Christine had indeed not returned to the Opera House. It was his biggest fear. Christine knew she should feel guilt over this conspired deception of her husband, but truthfully she knew that he was all the better off not knowing, it would only cause more problems in their already shaky marriage. If Christine was to spend time with Raoul, as their time together nowadays was so preciously little, she couldn't bear the weight of what she had done standing between them.
Christine quietly padded up the steps to the large oak double doors, looking about her as she did, hoping not to be spotted. When she was sure the coast was clear, she quietly slipped inside the foyer, carefull to close the door softly behind her. She had barely made it halfway across the entrance hall when she was spotted.
"Madame de Changny!" Adele's high pitched voice reverberated chillingly throughout the entrance hall. Christine hastily signalled for her to be quiet, before padding quietly over to her.
"Madame de Chagny, if it is not so rude to enquire... where have you been?"
Christine gifted her a lopsided grin. "Shh, Adele. It does not matter, I have simply been for a drive. Has Raoul left the manor yet?"
Adele mutely shook her head. "Oh no Ma'am. When he saw that you were not in your rooms this morning, he made sure to cancel all his morning apointments until you returned. He has been pacing frantically, he demanded I tell him where you were! B-But I didn't know madame... he got angry with me!"
"It's alright Adele, you need not worry." Christine sighed. Oh dear. "Where is my husband now?"
"In the library ma'am."
Christine dismissed Adele and made her way towards the library. She greeted many servants on her way, as they bustled past her, attending to the daily chores. Soon she came face to face with library door. She knocked softly upon the wood... once... twice... she was about to knock a third time, when she heard Raoul's distinct and very distressed voice call out; "I said I was not to be disturbed!"
"Raoul, honey, it's Christine."
There was a loud thud from within the room, as though someone had tripped over an item of furniture in their rush to get to the door, before the door was wrenched violently open.
"Christine!" Raoul exclaimed, tugging Christine into his arms and burying his face in the crook of her neck. He held her at arms length. "Where is God's name have you been?"
"I'm so sorry to have worried you Raoul, I only went for a drive, I didn't think-"
"Didn't think? Didn't think what Christine? Didn't think that I would notice that my wife's missing?"
He looked pleadingly and desperately into her eyes, craving an answer of which Christine could not give. She looked up into his face, noticing the deepening wrinkles in his brow from concetration, the fine stress wrinkles around his eyes.
"What's happening to us Christine? How did we get like this?"
Christine knew. She knew that they had begun this downward spiral ever since Raoul had been obligated to take over the de Changny estate. Ever since Phillipe died. Or perhaps it goes beyond that. Perhaps they were always on borrowed time, that Christine had always been on borrowed time, but had been too foolish to realise it.
She shook her head. "I don't know Raoul. I don't know."
Just then there was a knock at the door. Raoul's eyes remained firmly locked on Christine's as she gave him a gentle smile and went to answer the door. One of the servants, a brusk women of whom Christine did not know the name of, stepped through the doorway.
"Monsieur, Madame, there is a lady who just arrived."
"Who is it?" Raoul asked irritably. Clearly he still wanted to converse with his wife in private.
"A 'Madame Giry' Monsieur."
Christine's eyes lit up and she squealed delightedly. "Madame Giry? She's here now?"
"Yes Madame."
Christine turned to look at Raoul, a wide grin plastered on her face. "Oh, Go on," he sighed.
In the most lady-like manner she could manage, Christine sprinted from the room.
XxXxXxX
"Adele, could you bring some tea to the sun-room, please?" Christine called the her servant as she passed her in the hallway.
"Certainly madame."
When Christine finally discovered Madame Giry waiting patiently for her in the foyer, she delightedly threw her arms around her old ballet mistress.
"Oh, Madame Giry, it's wonderful too see you again, and so soon!"
She escorted Madame Giry to the sun room, where the tea arrived shortly after.
"I take it Madame, that yours and Meg's plans to move to London are still in place?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, Christine, we're leaving tomorrow."
"T-tomorrow?" Christine nearly choked on her tea.
Madame Giry nodded silently, sipping her tea quietly. For a few minutes the former teacher and pupil sat in the sunlight, quietly contemplating what this separation will mean for the both tof them, before Christine slammed her tea down, breaking the peacefulness.Suddenly.
"There's something I need to tell you Madame, but you must swear to me that you will not betray a word I have said to Raoul." Madame Giry nodded mutely, she would wait and hear what it was that was troubling this precious girl. Christine suddenly began to tremble. and when she was spoke, it was in barely a whisper.
"I-I went back, Madame." Madame Giry stared at her in bewilderment. "I went back to the Opera House."
"Oh, Christine..." Madame Giry breathed.
"I know, I know! I shouldn't have gone back, I know that Madame. But, I couldn't help myself. I needed to know. I-I needed to know if he was there, I needed to know that he was safe, and alright. I just... I just needed to know, Madame! Surely you of all people would understand that?"
Madame Giry sighed in heart-break and dismay. Suddenly it all made sense, Erik's sudden and furious desire to leave Paris, he had seen her.
"And... I-I saw him, Madame, I saw Erik!"
"You what?"
"I swear to you, it's true. He appeared to me, in the mirror ,and then he was gone, but I swear it was no illusion! He was real!" Christine's words had become more frantic, and the utter desperation in her eyes nearly brought Madame Giry's resolve crumbling down around her.
Christine bowed her head and whispered dejectedly, "he was there, Madame, he was there right in front on me, just beyond the glass. I know he was there; I could feel him."
Madame Giry sighed in dismay of what she was about the say, the unforgiveable lie she was about to tell. The time had come.
"That's impossible Christine," she whispered gently.
"W-What do you mean?"
Madame Giry stood and turned solemnly to Christine, unfolding the morning paper she held tucked under her arm and placing it flat open upon the table. Christine looked up in pure and utter bewilderment.
"Read and you'll understand."
Madame Giry paced the room, finally settling in a spot by the window as Christine scanned the pages of the Epoque. It really was a beautiful day. The sound of breaking china pierced the eeiry silence shorlty after, and Madame Giry closed her eyes in resignation, an utterly defeated sigh escaping her lips. Curse you Erik.
"Madame Giry… it… it cannot be…" The paper fluttered to the floor, the heading "Phantom of the Opera - proclaimed dead." was barely visible. Madame Giry turned to look upon the ghostly-white face of her adoptive daughter.
"Why? When?" Tears began to fall heavily from Christine's brown eyes, as anguished sob after anguished sob wracked her body. Curse you Erik for putting her through this.
"He can't be… he c-can't be dead! Why? W-why did he…leave…me!" Madame Giry placed firm arms around Christine's shoulders. "H-he promised he'd never leave me!"
"Hush my child… " She stroked her hair, desperately trying to comfort her and calm her shaking nerves. She hadn't realized how hard Christine would take the news that her angel, her guardian and former friend was dead. But no amount of soothing words, no amount of condolences would ever repair the gaping wound in Christine's heart; her entire world was falling about her in those few moments, a life-time of dreams scattered in the wind, as a howling and tormenting rage befell her.
She couldn't take this, it wasn't real; it has to be a mistake! Erik couldn't possibly be dead! He couldn't! He just couldn't! Curse you Madame Giry for telling me this terrible lie! Why would you try and hurt me like this? How could you!
Violently she jerked away from Madame Giry's seemingly comforting arms and stormed upstairs in a flurry of skirts, curses and tears. Numbly she heard Madame Giry's protests and bewildered calls after her, but they fell upon deaf ears. Her thoughts were utterly drowned by a cascade of unbearably tormenting music, the very cruelty of man-kind, the world! Was crashing upon her senses with waves of fury… Don Juan echoed relentlessly around her mind… her heart truly felt as though it had been torn in two… And yet when she finally burst through the door to her bedchambers everything stilled, like the eye of a hurricane, so deceptively peaceful, yet still on the edge of horrendous destruction.
Before her resided her full-length mirror, it seemed out of place somehow. How ironic! Christine thought wildly, her eyes streaming furious tears. Even an innate object such as a mirror stands to ridicule me!
The cold glass stood mockingly before her, tormenting her thoughts with the reflection of herself, the memory of her angel. She stared at herself in horror, the pale lifeless skin hung heavily from her cheeks, making her look at least 15 years older than her time. Her hair hung lifeless and limp around her shoulders. No longer the sleek and shiny gossamer curls that bounced with life and vitality, they simple hung, like old and matted curtains framing her ghostly, dead-pan face. Her eyes were red and puffy, no light shone from within those brown orbs, they were as dark and dank as the hell in which she had cursed her beloved angel to.
Look at yourself Christine… The mirror whispered mockingly to her. See what you've created, the penance for your wicked crimes…
"Shut up!" Christine screamed, flinging herself before the mirror, her small hands hammering against the unforgiving glass. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"
The mirror smashed, sending shards in all directions and small splinters of glass driving themselves deep within her creamy palms, the blood a stark contrast to her pale skin. And strangely enough, Christine didn't feel a thing. It was a welcomed pain, really, some outlet for the terrible and insurmountable grief she found herself howling into the empty room. It was the final straw as she collapsed in a quivering, wretched pile before the broken mirror.
"You promised Erik! You promised you'd never leave me! YOU PROMISED!"
"As did you Christine," the empty room whispered mockingly, "as did you…"
A/N Ah, the angst! Review!