A/N: I know, I know, it's been ages since I last updated. But let's just say my E/OC has taken pretty much all of my time, and since I only got at the beginning one review after posting Chapter 2, I sort of got unmotivated… Well, this being an R/C story, and not an E/C story, well, I have to expect that… *sigh* So big shout out thanks to emeraldphan, who posted two very lovely reviews a while ago and finally got me back on track! Though I must say the posting for this might be sporadic, since… well, Let It Go is my priority right now. But I promise I will not abandon this!
Chapter 3: Each Night, Each Morning
It was only when they entered that they realized the awkwardness of their situation. They weren't children anymore. He was a young man, and she a young woman, and, to the eyes of the world, they had to look at each other differently.
Well, it wasn't as serious as if Christine was of his social rank. She was an opera singer, and despite her looks of a precious little ingénue, to reprise Carlotta's own words, she was still considered like an opera singer. Raoul remembered how the managers and the prima donna had assumed Christine had become his mistress and that she had spent the night after Hannibal with him. His first reaction had been to be genuinely scandalized.
But, after giving it a great deed of thought, he realized that he hadn't done much to prevent it. He had let his excitement over seeing Christine again getting over him the entire evening.
First, he had applauded a bit too loudly and enthusiastically after Elissa's aria in Act Three, before realizing that Firmin and André, with whom he was sharing the box, were staring at him awkwardly, before remembering the sense of proprieties and sitting down with as much dignity as he could, though his mind was far, far away, near the sea, in Brittany…
Well, that was the only time in the evening where he had succeeded in remembering the sense of proprieties.
Later, he had so naively asked the managers to let him see Christine alone, without being at first introduced to her. Then, closing the door behind him, to give Christine and himself more privacy for their reunion after so many years, achieved in giving them the wrong message.
Oh well.
Raoul knew what he wanted. And Christine represented too much to his eyes for him to relegate her to the state of mistress.
But now, he feared the staff's reaction. Well, depending on who would greet them and help Christine get installed for the night.
Again, he mocked himself. Why should he be so concerned about all this? He wasn't going to let Christine go back to the Opera Populaire, like the proprieties would have normally required. It was a case of drastic measures, anyway.
He realized, finally, that he didn't want people to speak ill of Christine. Probably, most of them would just shrug, saying to themselves that it was how society ran, anyway. But now, a picture of D'Artagnan or even Don Quixote himself, ready to pull out his sword whenever the most insignificant detail seemed to him an attempt to spoil his honor, came to him, and made its comparison with his own behavior.
Christine seemed awkward as well. The house was silent, and she was genuinely embarrassed that Raoul himself might be obliged to show her room for the night. And her nightwear… she had brought nothing.
Raoul didn't want to ring so a maid could come in. There was only one person he trusted… and he feared she might have gone to bed.
Unless she was in the kitchens…
He never went to the kitchens, as a matter of… he wasn't quite sure why. It was the same principle as the kitchen maid, for instance, who weren't allowed to go in the bedroom suits except to clean up the fireplaces, and then again, that was in the morning, before the masters woke up. And anyway, at this hour, probably only the cooks would still be there… And they certainly would be shocked of seeing him!
And leaving Christine all alone in the vestibule wasn't a good idea either.
It was the only solution.
Though Raoul wished for a moment they could become little kids again, and go back to that time where they had spent the night on the front porch of Gustave Daaé's house in Perros-Guirec, on a very warm summer night…
"I'll… be back. All right?" Raoul finally had the courage to ask. Christine nodded her head, doing her best not to look too unsure of herself, sensing that Raoul was as nervous as she was.
He headed towards the kitchen, feeling the same way as if he was back to being a little boy and that he was entering his parents' bedroom. Along with the servants' quarters, it was the other place where he wasn't allowed to go. A sacred place, so to say.
But thankfully, only Élisa, his old nurse, was still there. She was sitting near the fireplace, knitting something for her fifteenth grandson who was born the last month. She had lifted up her eyes towards the vicomte as he entered, still piercing despite her old age where most people had to wear glasses for reading and detailed handiwork.
"Goodness, monsieur Raoul! Have you seen the hour? And what are you doing in this place? The Virgin Mary be blessed, if your father was still in this world…"
"Élisa, please," Raoul pleaded. "This is urgent." He took a deep breath before continuing. "You remember Christine Daaé, don't you?"
"Of course I do, monsieur Raoul," Élisa replied with the shadow of an amused smile, heavily getting up from her sitting place near the fireplace. "You've spoken to me often of her since you've seen her again at the Opera Populaire. Well, often is the least I can say!"
"Yes… she… she is staying here for the night."
Élisa's eyes widened in shock, and she quickly signed herself, before giving Raoul angry glares.
"Que Sainte Anne me bénisse!* I thought I had raised you in becoming a good Christian, monsieur Raoul!"
This time, the vicomte couldn't help but smile at his nurse's reaction. When his mother had died, she had raised him and taught him in religion and all virtues a true man should know. Much of the person he was today was here thanks to her. Laughing at the nervousness he had displayed earlier, he answered:
"Élisa, please… Just listen to me." He told briefly to the old woman what had happened at the Opera Populaire. He had just finished his story when Élisa flung her hands to her mouth.
"The poor, poor darling! Oh, you did very well by bringing her here, the poor thing! Now, where is she? Don't tell me you just left her alone? Monsieur Raoul, I thought I had taught you better!" While speaking, she had immediately got out of the kitchen, followed closely by the young man, who caught up with her and leaded her to the house's entrance. Christine was still there, waiting patiently, looking from time to time towards the door like a doe afraid of the hunter. But when she saw Élisa, she recognized her immediately and showed a beaming smile.
"Now, if it isn't Little Lotte!" the old nurse started, as she headed towards Christine and hugged her tightly. "Look at you! A beauty! But so skinny! I bet you don't even eat all of your porridge in the morning! Monsieur Raoul, for how long have you made her wait there? You go to bed, and take care of nothing else. You've been up to enough mischief in one day!"
Raoul and Christine both laughed at the severe tone Élisa was taking. It was hard to take it seriously. They both knew it was Élisa's way of showing affection, and Christine couldn't help comparing her to Mme Giry... except a Mme Giry who was perhaps a lot more round, and who smelled warm bread fresh out of the oven.
When she woke up in the morning, she looked around her, confused. The mattress was a lot softer, the rough woolen sheets which usually composed her bed had been replaced by silky white sheets, and the curtain surrounding her bed was a lot thicker. Still under a sleepy mood, she laboriously got up and opened her curtain, to finally remember what had happened the previous night.
She got up and headed immediately towards the window, throwing the curtains aside and letting the sun come in, enjoying its shine, soft though the summer season was already promising to be particularly hot this year.
She smiled. Everything that had worried her so much, no, rather terrified her, had seemingly gone, like if they had vanished away thanks to some magic spell. Was it Raoul? Probably, she thought with a grin, blushing as she remembered the kiss they had shared on the rooftop. But the memory of the chandelier crashing towards her came back. Certainly, her Angel had done to revenge of the tender moment she had had with Raoul… could he really go until that point?
Christine felt a tear fall on her cheek. With Buquet's murder, she even wondered if she could still give him the title of Angel. But now, she had no idea how to call him…
She wondered for a moment why her sleep had been so peaceful. Probably, Élisa had helped. Élisa was the kind of woman who, thanks to the warm blood of Brittany's children, always independent and proud, would scare away the evil korrigans and the ankou with one single stare. Without Christine even asking, Élisa had tucked her to bed like a little girl, then had sung a lullaby in her warm contralto voice, while the young soprano fell asleep.
The old nurse had given her a nightdress which used to belong to Jacqueline, Raoul's elder sister, and a dress for the next morning. It was quite plain, with its light blue color and its few ornaments, though more luxurious than everything that Christine had had the opportunity to wear in everyday life. She felt a bit embarrassed at the idea of people seeing her in this. But Christine was a young girl: and you cannot be considered misogynist by thinking that, in mind, she clapped her hands at the idea of putting a nice dress on.
She got out of her room discreetly, like a mouse, as if she wanted to make her presence as less known as possible. Not knowing too much where to go, she wandered around, hoping she would fall across Élisa or Raoul and not some stranger.
Thankfully, the nurse, who probably had some sixth sense, wasn't too far away.
"I told myself you would be early," the old woman started. "Goodness, it's only half past six! But Monsieur Raoul couldn't sleep either. It reminds when he was still a little boy and he couldn't stay in place one second! I just remember the speech I gave him just before he was going to have his First Communion and that I warned him about his behavior. I said…"
But Christine was only half-listening. She was used to old Élisa's rambles about everything and nothing.
"And Jesus Maria! It was efficient! I thought for a moment he had turned into a statue during Mass!" Élisa finished her story with a good-hearted laugh. "Now, the kitchens just received cream with fresh bed. It will be your breakfast. I might just add something else. You are so thin! Of course, you dancers have to, but if you want to fetch a husband…"
Christine blushed furiously, as so many feelings entered her mind all at the same time. Élisa observed her, and, as they got out of the house to enter the garden, a table was all set, and there they saw Raoul waiting for them. He got up as soon as he saw the two women arrive.
"Good morning, Christine. Have you slept well?"
Christine answered with a nod, but Élisa's earlier remark was still fresh in her mind, and she blushed even more when she saw Raoul. The nurse, of course, saw all of this. She retained a smile, as the puzzle pieces came together… but concern also filled her.
Of course they love each other. But will they ever get to be together? He's a vicomte, the last descendant of one of France's most ancient families. And she… she's just a chorus girl who got to the level of prima donna thanks to some demon.
Élisa made a small curtsy and left the garden, still anxious about all this, wondering what would be the ending of it.
It was too early to tell, anyway.
Christine and Raoul ate in silence, once again. Despite the city surrounding them, everything was still peaceful so early in the morning, and they could hear the birds sing. It was only then that Raoul, seeing that Christine had finally finished, dared to talk to her about what he had just learned.
"The newspaper was talking of the Opera Populaire, of course…"
Christine lifted up her eyes wider than ever towards him, her hands trembling. Raoul took them gently in his.
"They'll have to replace the chandelier and fix up the theater a bit," he continued softly. "They're lucky there was no fire or anything. It might take up to three months. Meanwhile…" He bit his lip, as he always did when he was nervous. "You know, if you want to go back to Mme Giry, I'll understand. But if you want to stay here… you'll always be welcome, you know. It's not like they'll miss you – they won't be needing you during those three months, and meanwhile… we'll see what we can do?"
Christine closed her eyes, and swallowed.
"I don't want to go back," she said quite frankly. "Not now."
Raoul nodded. "And so be it."
"And anyway, with what happened… I don't think they'll let me sing again," she said with some regret. She did love singing. It was a big part of her life, what reminded her of her father the most. But now, she couldn't help associating it with the Phantom… and associating something as horrible with something as sacred as her singing seemed like a sacrilege, now.
"Well… people got to hear La Carlotta, and people got to hear you almost immediately after. They all agree to say now that La Carlotta is done, and that they need someone new."
Silence installed itself, as they both thought intently.
"In the end, Christine… I'll always be there to help you, but will be your choice. And yours alone."
*The words in italic and in French are actually meant to be said in Breton dialect. May St. Anne bless me!
Answers to reviews:
mngirl: Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. It's true there is a lack of R/C phics. ;)
emeraldphan: Hi! I know I've said it above, but thank you so much for your reviews! They really encouraged me to continue this story. I'm glad to see the Il Muto/All I Ask of You part wasn't too boring to read, and that you like my Raoul. I got a lot of inspiration for him from Michael Shawn Lewis' performance of the role. There's a video on Youtube with footage of him, if you're interested. ;) Seriously, I'm so tired of those phics where Raoul is a shallow jerk…
Share Each Day With Me will be Christine slowly realizing that her teacher is no supernatural creature and that she can get off his grasp. Then, I believe Act II will be her learning that now, if she wants to live, she'll have to separate herself from him. It's sad that somehow, she is obliged to abandon him, but she's in the center of an obsession that can only lead to no good…