Chapter Fifteen

The Phillips Club was a short walk from the opera house and Sabine knew Erik was staying there from listening to the managers talk. She was able to walk inside easily enough, but at the front desk, she hit a wall.

"I'm sorry, Madam. Mr. Leroux left instructions that he didn't want to be disturbed and is refusing all visitors," the silver-haired manager replied to her inquiries.

"I understand. But he and I are old, old friends and I have news of the utmost importance for him. I simply must see him," she insisted.

"I can offer to deliver a message to him but I cannot allow him to be disturbed."

"But I must speak with him! If you would just tell him I'm here, I'm sure he would want to see me," she tried again.

"What's the problem, Frank?" Sarah asked, noticing the situation as she came in the front door.

"Ah, Mrs. Brokaw. Good evening. It's just that Mr. Leroux is not seeing any visitors and Mrs. Giry here won't seem to take no for an answer," he replied, looking hopefully at her for some feminine intervention.

"Mrs. Giry? The assistant ballet director at the Met?" Sarah remembered.

"Yes, I am she."

"Your daughter is friends with our new soprano, is she not?"

Sabine nodded.

"It's alright, Frank. Mrs. Giry and I need to speak in private. We'll be in the lounge," Sarah made a decision quickly.

"Of course, Mrs. Brokaw. Would you like Charles to attend you?" He asked.

Sarah nodded. "Yes. Tell him I think some wine would be splendid."

"As you wish."

As the two women walked away from the front desk and to the study, Sarah motioned for Sabine to sit with her on the couch in front of the large bay window.

"I'm sorry if Frank appeared rude. He's a good man but has lost a bit of his softer side since his wife passed away two years ago," Sarah apologized. "My name is Sarah, by the way. I recognized your name because of your daughter. I understand you come from the Paris Opera, correct?"

"Yes. My daughter is a ballerina as was Christine before she was discovered," Sabine offered cautiously. She knew this woman was one of the wealthy patrons but wasn't sure of more beyond that.

A young man appeared with two glasses and a bottle on a tray. "Mrs. Brokaw….Madam," he said in way of greeting the two, handing them each a glass and leaving the bottle on the table nearby.

"Perfect! A Beaujolais!" Sarah raised her glass. "To new friends."

Sabine raised her eyebrow along with her glass. "Indeed."

After taking a sip, Sarah sat back, glass in hand. "I think we can both be candid. My husband and I have come to respect Erik quite highly in the time he's been here. He's told me a great deal about Paris and your daughter's friend. I was with him earlier today when she sang her audition piece. I saw how moved he was. He loves her desperately but doesn't know what to do. He told me she fled her engagement to a Vicomte in France and that Erik followed her here. My sister and I have been helping as much as we can and I thought, after the rehearsals today, he was going to speak to Christine." Sarah took another sip of her wine before continuing. "Your presence here this evening seems to indicate something went wrong."

Sabine believed herself to be an excellent judge of character. She quickly made up her mind about Sarah and then settled back on the couch as well. "I've known Erik for nearly ten years. He came to the opera in Paris when he was thirty-seven. He helped design it, did he tell you that?"

Sarah nodded.

"He's a genius….a prodigy. There is nothing he cannot do: except understand love. From the time he was a child, no one showed him love. His mother reviled him, forcing him to wear a mask in her presence. She sold him to a traveling band of gypsies."

Sarah's eyes widened as she gasped, "Sold him? Her son?!"

Sabine nodded. "They showed him off as the Devil's Child, but treated him decently enough. He learned much about herbal medicine from them and left when he was fourteen. He traveled to Milan where he was able to study and apprentice with Camillo Boito for architecture and even received an education in art from him. After his time there, he traveled to Persia where the Shah employed him as his royal architect. He was there for several years and, when he wanted to leave, the Shah imprisoned and tortured him. He bears the scars to this day," Sabine trailed off, sipping her wine.

"My God," was all Sarah could say.

Sabine nodded. "When he came to Paris, we met and I promised to keep his secret. He had built a home deep in the lower catacombs under the opera while seeing to the work above. He was tired of humanity and planned to finish his days in solitude with his music and books. But then Fate brought young Christine to his doorstep.

"Her father was a violinist in the orchestra for just a year when he died of consumption. Christine's mother had died years earlier so there she was, fifteen and all alone. My daughter and she had become friends and I could not allow her to be tossed onto the street, so I gave her a spot in the corps de ballet so she could have a place to stay in the dormitory. She and Erik knew nothing of each other for several years until one day he heard her singing alone in the small chapel at the opera. Her voice drew him out of his brooding and awakened him. I had never seen that side of him before. Her voice inspired him but he was terrified to reveal himself to her. He spent months teaching her without ever allowing her to see him. And that was his first mistake."

"Why?" Sarah asked, refilling their glasses.

Sabine sighed. "She thought he was the Angel of Music sent by her father. He allowed her to think it and continued to teach her. He had planned on revealing the truth to her but because the Vicomte suddenly showed up, he felt forced to do things more quickly than he had planned. He made mistakes and scared her, which sent her right into the young, handsome Vicomte's arms. And that's when Erik's jealousy exploded." She paused, unwilling to speak of everything he'd done. She left it at, "He did things he shouldn't have: turned into someone I no longer knew because he'd been so hurt. He never knew love. He still doesn't."

Sarah sat quietly, absorbing everything she'd heard. "And Christine is young and unsure of what love is, too."

Sabine nodded. "Although, I think she has finally begun to learn. Tonight the Vicomte found her at the theater. Meg tells me there was quite a scene that looked like she had taken him back. Christine actually sent him away but it didn't look that way."

"And Erik saw this scene and misunderstood," Sarah finished.

"Precisely."

Sarah nodded. "Mrs. Giry…."

"Please. My name is Sabine. Forgive my rudeness in not mentioning it earlier."

Sarah smiled warmly. "Of course. Sabine, Erik means a great deal to me: probably because my husband is also disfigured so I can sympathize with his trust issues. I so want to see him happy. Tell me, honestly; is Christine truly aware of her feelings and where they lie?"

"I won't pretend it hasn't been difficult helping her work through her feelings. But if you could hear her speak of how she feels when she is simply in his presence, you would not doubt her."

"Then I believe it's time these two fledgling lovers received a push in the right direction. Where is Christine now?" Sarah asked, pouring the last of the bottle into their glasses.

"She is with Meg in the park. She often sits under a willow tree at the edge of the small lake near the entrance by the opera house."

"I know the spot. Keep Christine there. I'll bring Erik to her," Sarah said, downing her glass.

Sabine raised an eyebrow. "That will not be easy in the mood I am certain he is in."

"My dear Sabine, love is never as easy as it should be. That's why they have us!"