Chapter Ten - Half-Truths and Ideas
"You want me to…leave?"
They were sitting in the drawing room, sipping tea, when Erik spoke up and told Angelique, "You are going above to the opera in the morning."
So it was that she and Christine sat in their seats, their teacups paused in midair as they gawked at Erik after he spoke. "Don't look at Erik that way, Angelique," Erik shook his head. "You must go. The costumes are ready and need to be taken back, and if Erik keeps you here much longer, people will begin to wonder if you ever will return."
"And…what about me?" Christine asked, ignoring a warning glance from her friend.
"Erik is afraid that you shall have to stay a while longer, my dear," he answered calmly, pouring himself another cup of the steaming beverage. "You shall return, of that he shall make certain, but not yet, Christine."
She nodded, content with the answer for the time being.
"But Erik…may I come back?" Angelique asked.
Christine coughed, nearly choking on her drink as she heard Angelique's request.
Erik blinked at her with large eyes before he shut them and smiled, delighted. "Erik shall show you an easier route than the one you took last time you came down, Angelique, if that is your wish."
"It is," she nodded, smiling back as she selected another biscuit from the tray. "But I do want to stay upstairs in the workroom while fixing the costumes – it would be easier for us all, and then I'll be back to make supper."
"Very well." He held back the urge to chuckle, very much liking the idea that Angelique would hurry home to him and make supper…it made him feel human. Sipping his tea, the notion flickered into his mind that perhaps he should take one quick glance before calling it a night. He made sure to inspect his opera house at several times throughout each day, but one could never be too careful. Nodding to himself, he continued to calmly drink his beverage before the two women, enjoying some normalcy for once in his life.
~OG~
Excusing himself after tea, he left the girls to do the dishes and rowed his way to the other side of the lake, rolling his eyes as he arrived at the steps. "Erik knew you would be back sooner or later, Daroga, however he was rather hoping it would be later than sooner."
"Erik, what have you done to those girls?" The Persian glared at him accusingly as the Opera Ghost nimbly stepped out of the boat and onto the dock, calmly readjusting his hat over his brow to make sure it would shade his mask.
"He has done nothing," he answered coolly. "Erik has continued singing lessons with Christine and has gathered items for Angelique to work on during their stays. In fact, Angelique shall be returning tomorrow to the opera to continue working on the costumes."
The Persian blinked, stunned by the news and how calm he was about it. "…really?"
"Really. Though it's none of your business, Daroga," he sniffed contemptuously.
"What about Mademoiselle Daae, Erik?" the foreigner insisted, following him as he walked down a darkened passage.
"Is it not enough that Erik returns the horse and releases one of his guests?" he snapped, already irritated with the man.
"You cannot force them to stay with you, Erik," the Daroga frowned. He took a step back, startled as Erik spun around to face him, his cape swishing dramatically around him.
"Oh, but that it where you are wrong, Daroga," Erik grinned, his smile a combination of glee and spite. "Angelique will come back to me tomorrow evening of her own free will!"
The man gawked at him before shaking his head. "That's not possible, Erik-"
"Oh, but it is!" he chuckled, continuing up the stairs. "If you don't believe Erik, Daroga, come back tomorrow and wait for Miss Archambault to greet you as she returns." He gave a little wave before dashing off, just to annoy him further. He was quite giddy from the whole idea, especially after stating it aloud – it made it appear tangible, hope swelling within his chest.
He walked through the halls with his head held high, the sensation that he was soaring never leaving him. He, the Opera Ghost, had a friend – a lady friend, no less – and she wanted to return to him. He almost wanted to go skipping but restrained himself, realizing how foolish he was. Slipping into his hiding place in Box Five, he quickly threw out an envelope before shutting the door to his perch and waited, leaning comfortably against the wall until he heard someone enter. Peering through the peephole, he smiled as he saw Madame Giry enter for her usual rounds.
"Bonsoir, Madame Juliette," he spoke to her, earning her attention at once. "I've a gift for you on the floor."
She peered down, kneeling when she saw the envelope. "Another list, monsieur?"
"No, Madame, it's payment." He watched her open the paper, her eyes widening at the amount placed within. "For all the trouble you've gone through helping me this past week."
"You are most generous!" she beamed.
"I thought you might like to know that Miss Archambault will be returning to work tomorrow," he informed her, watching her eyes light up.
"How wonderful! The girls in the corps have missed her, as have I…and you know how anxious the managers are." She rolled her eyes at this. "Oh, and there is also the matter of the ComteandVicomte de Chagny."
"So, they are still searching for the ladies, are they?" Erik's lip curled as his brows furrowed together. The de Chagnys were a bothersome pair – one brother swooning over Christine while the other claimed to visit La Sorelli and snooped for clues about Angelique's whereabouts. He couldn't keep the girls hidden much longer because of their antics, not to mention they had to get back to work. "Never mind them, Madame. I shall deal with the matter should it get out of hand. In the meantime, continue about your business until we meet again."
"Bonsoir, monsieur," she bobbed her head, her little feather in her bonnet bobbing with her as she curtsied and left the box.
Erik watched her leave, waiting until she had shut the door before slipping back into the passages and scouring the grounds for any suspicious or interesting movements. He was satisfied to find all in its place, though he had a nagging suspicion that the managers were probably spying on Madame Giry since she was reinstated. Completing his tour of the opera, he arrived at the stables and was about to step out – Cesar enjoyed it whenever he stopped by with a few sugar cubes – when a shadow grew along the wall. Quickly, he jumped back into his hiding place, keeping the wooden panel up so that it appeared to be in place as he peeped through the cracks. His brows furrowed at once upon seeing a tall man enter the stables, his bright red hair coming into view.
"Maurice!" Erik instantly recognized the hard, sneering face, his eyes cold as steel. His stomach twisted in disgust, his fingers gripping the wood so tightly that he found feel it creak and crack under his force. "How I should like to strangle you myself, monsieur," he glowered angrily. It was evident that the man was trying to find out anything about Angelique's whereabouts and was getting nowhere. After checking each stall, he grunted and turned away, abandoning his search.
Erik waited several more minutes before finally stepped out and stalking over to Cesar's stall. "I shall have to warn Angelique about him," he thought to himself, absentmindedly offering the horse a handful of sweets. Once the horse had happily gobbled them up, he patted his neck and disappeared the way he came, anxious to get back after seeing the man in his opera.
He seemed to fly through the corridors of the cellars as he made his way home, his eyes darting about as he half-expected the Persian to be waiting for him. Oddly enough, he was out of sight, giving the Phantom some piece of mind as he rowed back home. Locking the door and hanging his cloak and hat, he glanced at the costumes that Angelique had been working on, now folded and prepared to take back upstairs in the morning. Hollowness began to fill his abdomen as he realized that Angelique would not be here for several hours. What if she changed her mind and decided to stay in the workroom as she did the first night? What if that Comte took her away and she enjoyed being with the de Chagnys more than with him?
His hands trembling, he forced himself to walk down the hall towards the girls' rooms, moving straight for Angelique's. He paused as he noticed Christine's door, suddenly tempted to see her. Placing his hand on the knob, he twisted it, surprised that she had left it unlocked. Poking his head in, he saw her figure lying under the covers, her face framed by her angelic blonde locks. For a moment, he was breathless – she truly was an angel, perfection at its best. Daring, he took a step towards her, stopping as he heard her sigh.
"Papa…Raoul…" she murmured peacefully, unaware of the fire she had started.
The sudden admiration he held broke into a thousand pieces of jealousy as he gritted his teeth and exited the room, shutting it at once. Leaning against the frame of the door, he reached for his mask, his nails digging into the material harshly. "Even in sleep, she only thinks of that boy!" he hissed, insulted. "She shall love me, somehow." Raising his head, he glared at the wall when he realized that Angelique's room was just a few steps down the way. The fear of losing her filled him once more as he ran to the door, carefully turning the knob and doing the same he had done with Christine.
None of the items on her desk had moved, making him sigh in relief. Turning his face, he could see Angelique snuggled beneath the coverlet of her bed, sound asleep and unaware of his presence. Stalking deeper into the room, he dared to reach out and tug the door of her armoire open. Everything he had bought her, every dress and every set of shoes, were still placed inside in perfect order. Another breath of relief rushed out of him, surprising him. He hadn't realized that he was holding his breath.
With each step he took, ever so delicately, he walked to her side, kneeling down so that he might be eye to eye with her. Her hair fell gently around her face, framing her cheeks. Cautiously, he reached out and curled one finger around a stray lock, enjoying its silky feel against his skin. A moan from the girl startled him, causing him to freeze as he stared at her, waiting for her to wake up.
"…Erik…"
His heart stopped, his eyes glued to her face as her lips parted and breathed his name. He waited, expecting her eyes to open and see him at any moment, but she never awoke. He inhaled deeply, relieved that he had not been caught, but there was something that made his heart patter excitedly within him…she had murmured his name in her sleep.
Clenching one hand to his heart, he felt his entire being ache as he gazed at her. "Oh, Angelique," he whispered. "Why do you do this to me?" Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingertips brushing against her cheek as he daringly moved her hair away from her eyes. He felt his eyes sting with tears as a smile grew on her face and she sighed in her sleep.
He inclined his head to her impulsively, stopping himself just as quickly. Erik shook his head, clearing his mind. "No…she would not like that…and Erikmustbe a gentleman to her…" Shaking all the while, he pressed his fingertips to his lips and slowly, ever so slowly, brought his hand to her mouth. Softly, he pressed his fingertips to her beautiful pink lips, shivering as he felt their skin on his. His eyes widened as she unconsciously tilted her head and pressed her lips to his hand before returning to its previous position and calmly continuing to doze off. Snatching his own wrist, he brought his hand back to his mouth and pressed it to his lips, imagining the sensation of her kiss on his lips instead of his fingers. Curling his blessed hand against his mouth, he whispered, "Mon Dieu…Angelique…my dear Angelique…"
~OG~
"I don't think Maurice will be able to sneak into the opera, not with all the stagehands and ballerinas around, and I'm certain there must still be police around to investigate our disappearance," Angelique said aloud, more to herself than to Erik as he guided her back towards the workroom through the passages in the cellars below.
He patted her hand, a reassuring smile forming on his face. "Erik shall not let those monsters harm you, Angelique."
She smiled back, squeezing his arm gratefully, unknowingly sending his heart into a tizzy. "Thank you, Erik."
He bit his tongue and continued on with her in silence as he helped her return the costumes. The mannequins had been brought back days before, leaving them to collect and bring back the ballerinas' new dresses for Faust. Arriving at the door, he tugged at the latch, opening at once for them. Peering into the room, he motioned for her to follow and helped her place the costumes back onto the bench. Finally, he set the new designed and marked catalog on the workbench. It wasn't until after she had finally put away the last gown that she noticed there was something different about the room.
"Erik…did someone clean the place? And did…Oh! Look at all these materials!" she gasped, staring at the newly stocked wall and shelves. "What happened while I was away-?"
"Erik sent several notes to the managers, notifying them of necessary changes," Erik chuckled, enjoying the look of glee in her eyes. "There is also a clean cot should you need a rest after work-" He gasped as she tackled him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that he thought he would suffocate.
"Oh, Erik!" she laughed, pulling away after a moment. "You're spoiling me!"
"N-Nonsense," he stammered, ducking his face away so that she wouldn't see him blush – even if his cheeks were covered by a mask.
"Come on, Meg!" an insistent voice whined, not very far from Angelique's door.
"Oh dear," Angelique breathed, glancing back for an instant before facing Erik once more. "Erik-"
"Erik shall take his leave now," he said, lowering his voice as he entered the hidden passage once again. "Remember, the nail," he added, pointing to the loose nail that hung close to the open passageway.
She nodded, embracing him one last time before waving shyly at him. "I'll see you tonight, then."
"Tonight," he nodded, a smile growing on his face just before he shut the opening from his side.
No sooner had the door closed, the door to the workroom opened and there was a gasp behind her.
"It's her! It's Angelique!" little Jammes squealed in delight, running for the seamstress and embracing her tightly.
"Jammes!" laughed Angelique, patting the girl's back as she embraced her. "What a wonderful welcome back."
"Angelique?!" Meg gasped, torn between disbelief and amazement. "Oh…OH!" She ran for her, embracing her at once, tears in her eyes as she accepting the woman's arms. "When you vanished, I was so worried…and when I heard from Maman that you were taken by the Opera Ghost…I thought I'd never see you again!"
"Your mother knew?" Angelique asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't you remember that Madame Giry works for the Phantom?" Jammes asked eagerly, ready to hear all the dirty details. "But that means you were with the Ghost! He let you go?! Or did you escape? Is he absolutely hideous?!"
"Jammes!" snapped Angelique and Meg at once, silencing the girl.
Taking a deep breath, Angelique knew that she had to tell them something, especially since Madame Giry had leaked the information out to them, and the managers probably knew as well. "I don't remember how I left or came back, I was asleep both times. All I can tell you was when I went looking for Christine Daae, I left the opera house and began to check the streets, thinking that perhaps she had gotten so frightened that she ran out. But it was so cold that after a time I stopped and sat down. I must have dozed off when I awoke in this wonderful room. The Phantom owns a house, you see, and I never him personally but I was with Christine, and we were treated like princesses."
"Princesses…?" Jammes gaped in awe.
Meg raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, knowing there was more to this story but unwilling to start Jammes's excitement all over again.
"He told me last night that I was to return to get back to work on the costumes. I only just woke up now and was looking around the room when you two burst in," she lied.
"Ooh! How exciting!" Jammes gushed, hopping up and down like a rabbit. "Perhaps he will steal me away too!"
"God forbid," Meg shook her head, making a sign of the Cross. Turning her attention to Angelique, she said, "Whatever it was that happened, we're so glad to have you back. There have been a lot of people looking for you…" She raised her brows, hinting at her step-family.
Angelique nodded, mouthing "later" when Jammes looked away. "Well, I certainly hope I haven't caused too much trouble-"
"OOOH! Look, Meg! Look at the new costumes!" she squealed, pointing at the new outfits. "Oh, may we-?"
"Go on," Angelique smiled, watching the young run scurry towards the new clothes. Inclining her head, she whispered to Meg, "Your mother met my step-family, I presume."
"Yes, she said they were awful," Meg whispered back. "I haven't told a soul."
"Merci, mon ami," she said, embracing the girl once more. "I ran away from them looking for an uncle I'd only recently heard about. That's why I came to Paris."
"You'll be safe here. Maman says they won't come back," Meg reassured her.
"I certainly hope so," murmured Angelique.
"What in Heaven's name is all this racket-?!" a man's voice boomed as the door swung open.
All three girls jumped at the sound of the irritated voice, staring with large, frightened eyes at the entrance as Monsieurs Richard and Moncharmin entered the vicinity, with two other figures in tow.
"Mademoiselle!" Moncharmin beamed, going to Angelique and kissing her hand. "We are most delighted to have you back!"
"Y-You?!" Richard gaped, his jaw hitting the ground. "B-B-But, how-?!"
"Out of my way," Madame Juliette Giry sniffed, heading straight for the young woman. A smile filled her face as she embraced the girl, kissing her cheek. "Welcome back, Angelique. We have missed you."
"Madame," Angelique smiled, a warmth filling her heart as she embraced the woman in return. "I've missed you."
"Mademoiselle Archambault?! Is it really you?"
Angelique raised her eyes, catching sight of a man she hadn't expected to see after the incidents that had taken place. "Monsieur le Comte?" she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion as he entered, his eyes shining with a shadow of a smile on his lips. "What are you-?"
"I was- ahem, that is, we were all very concerned when you vanished," he said, correcting himself a little too quickly as he approached her, taking her hand in his and kissing it. "Thank Heaven you are well. What happened to you?"
"I was lost-" she started.
"The Opera Ghost had her and-" Jammes started, instantly earning a dirty look from Madame Giry and the managers. The patrons had no need to know about whether or not the Phantom was real, it would only cause more problems. Meg went to the girl's side and dragged her out, excusing herself as they exited.
"You were saying?" Firmin Richard asked, giving her a look that stated "make something up and fast".
"You remember I went looking for Christine Daae?" she asked calmly.
"Yes, of course," he nodded.
"I went outside of the opera to see if she had run away, but I got lost. I'm afraid I'm still very unfamiliar with Paris, you see, and it was cold, so I sat down to get a moment's rest. I believe I dozed off for the next thing I knew I was in a wonderful house."
"Where?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know. That's the problem – this house had no windows," she answered, the last part very true of her story.
"No windows?!" he asked, aghast.
"Yes," she nodded. "I remained there for a time, I was ill from wandering in the cold for so long. The owner of the house remained out of sight but he made certain to have someone care for me. Just last night he sent me a message saying I was to return to the opera today. I fell asleep in his home and I awoke now, just to find out that somehow, I arrived here."
"Extraordinary," he murmured, stroking his moustache.
"Isn't it?" Richard laughed nervously. "Well, mademoiselle, we are going to attempt to put on another production of Faust and expect the costumes to be done in about a week."
"I see you've already gotten to work," Moncharmin grinned, noticing the corps de ballet's costumes.
Richard followed his gaze, his jaw dropping once more. "W-Well!" he choked, impressed.
"I'll get to it at once," she promised.
"Oh! I almost forgot to mention," Moncharmin added, snapping his fingers as the thought came to him. "We shall be having a Masquerade Ball in three days, everyone is welcome to come. It's to help promote Faust, and I was wondering if you would make me a mask that resembled a dragon's head, my dear."
"I will certainly do my best," she smiled. "It would be an honor to make you that mask."
"Excellent! I shall pay you in advance," he vowed, kissing her hand once again. "Do make something for yourself, my dear. We did order everything you selected from the catalog while you were away."
"Yes, I noticed," she beamed. "Thank you both so much!"
"Think nothing of it," the kind-hearted manager answered, guiding his partner out the door. "We'll leave you to it, then. Good luck!"
She waved at him, laughing as he yanked Richard away. "Looks like I have quite a bit to do on my hands."
"I shall also take my leave," Madame Giry spoke, squeezing the girl's hand before she left and bobbing her head at Philippe.
Angelique felt strange and awkward left with Philippe, alone in the room. Offering him an unsure smile, she curtsied and said, "Well, I do hope you'll excuse me, but I have to get to work and-"
"I know about your step-family," he cut her off, his grey eyes catching sight of how pale she became at the mention of the group. "…I was about to leave on the first day you went missing when I ran into Madame Giry and she told me to look of for a woman with her two children looking for you. She said they were extremely unpleasant…" He took in her form as she inhaled silently and held her head up, facing him with her determined stormy eyes. "…is that why you came here to Paris, searching for Comte Archambault?"
"It is," she nodded, her voice clear and firm. "After my father died, my stepmother showed her true colors. Life was very…unpleasant, these last two years…so I ran away in hopes of finding a new life, a new home, a new family."
His heart ached as he listened to her, wishing he knew just what exactly happened to her. Something stirred within him as he reached out and took her hand. "Angelique, I've asked you before, and I shall ask once again – come with me! You can stay at my home in your own room until we get a response from your uncle. I've already sent the letter out and it will be just a matter of days, God willing, until we get a response."
"Monsieur," she said, tugging her hand in an effort to free herself from his hold. "Please let me go-"
"Angelique, please, it's not safe here," he insisted, taking a step towards her.
She took a step back, finally wrenching her hand free. "I appreciate your concern, Comte de Chagny, but I must decline."
"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowing in frustration. "Surely you don't think I would do anything to taint your honor?"
"If I had any honor, I would worry about it," she smirked. "I am a mere seamstress, monsieur, you needn't worry about me-"
"You think too little of yourself," he said gently, reaching for her. She continued to step away from him, causing his arm to fall to his side. "Are you frightened of me?"
"No," she answered truthfully. "But please, let me stay here. I can take care of myself just fine. Please, Monsieur-"
"Philippe," he corrected her. "At least call me Philippe."
She blinked, stunned by the request, but nodded in compliance. "Philippe, please, let me stay, and do not ask me any more to go with you. It's better this way."
He sighed, nodding in defeat. "Very well. But I do hope that you'll think of me should you ever need anything."
"And take advantage of your generosity? Never," she shook her head with a small smile.
"I rather wish you would," he mumbled, bowing politely to her before leaving the room.
Waiting until he had left, she shook her head and gave a breath of relief, glad to be alone at last. Turning back to face her work, she gave a satisfied smile, happy to be distracted for the time being. Running to the shelves, she scanned the wall for the desired items when her eyes landed on a beautiful, rich scarlet fabric. Her fingers ran over the cloth, her mind racing with an idea in mind. "Erik…this would suit him quite nicely," she murmured, her eyes lighting up with inspiration. Snatching a piece of paper, she got to work at once, sketching her vision for minutes on end, humming part of Margarita's song from the opera. She became so enraptured in her work that she could not resist singing out,
"No my lord, not a lady am I, nor yet a beauty,
And do not need an arm to help me on my way…"
Holding the picture up, she admired it and beamed, pleased with her sketch. Giggling with excitement, she folded and slipped the picture away into an apron pocket and tied the article of clothing around her waist before once more focusing on her work. "Down to business it is."
~OG~
It was well past dusk when Angelique was satisfied with her work for the day. Having pinned the designs with the list of materials needed to complete the suit or dress, she had finished two grand costumes and set them aside with the ballerinas' outfits, as well as the very first dress she had made when she first arrived. Exhausted but happy, she gathered a set of materials into a large sack and slung it over her shoulder before she pressed the nail into the wall. The panels slid away smoothly, and there, waiting in the corridor, was Erik.
"Erik!" she gasped, her face lighting up at the sight of him. "You came to bring me back?"
"If that is suitable for you, then yes," he chuckled, his heart thumping as he realized that she was actually delighted to have him appear and whisk her away. He offered her his arm, his breath hitching as she readily linked hers with his. "Shall we?" She nodded, watching him raise the level into position so that the panels slid back seamlessly before he led her away into the darkness, a lantern at hand. "Bringing a project back?" he noticed, pursing his lips as the bulging sack she carried.
"I'm sure you've already heard there's going to be a masked ball," she grinned. "I thought of an idea for a costume."
"Erik is certain you shall look stunning-" he began.
"It's for you, actually."
His head whipped towards her, his eyes large. "For me?"
"Yes," she answered. "That is, if you're alright with it. I shall need your measurements as well."
"Oh…certainly," he nodded, blushing beneath his mask. "…thank you, Angelique."
"Of course," she smiled brightly.
He bit his lip, glancing over at her once more. "…you lied to protect me today."
She blinked, stunned by his words. "And you clearly didn't leave after you dropped me off this morning," she answered, raising an eyebrow and smiling coyly. "Yes, I made up a story for everyone."
"Why?"
"Because that's what friends do, Erik. They protect and help one another," she told him, gently squeezing his arm as they walked down a long, winding set of stairs together.
He gulped, her words and gesture sending his mind and body into a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. "Erik has never had friends…" A small smile began to twitch onto the corners of his mouth. "But he rather likes the idea."
She shook her head at him and laughed, her voice echoing in the vast halls, sending goosebumps over his skin. "So do I."
They continued on in silence for a while, each one enjoying the presence of the other. Arriving at the lake, he helped her in before sitting down and rowing back to the house, his eyes drinking in the sight of her after so many hours apart, when he remembered something important.
"You have a beautiful voice," he said suddenly, startling her.
"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully at him. "You always hear me talk. There's nothing pretty about it-"
"Erik begs to differ," he interrupted. "But he meant your singing voice."
Blush covered her face as she heard this, her hands rising to cover her mouth. "You…you didn't!" she shook her head, looking away from him.
"Whatever is wrong?" he asked, absolutely perplexed by her reaction. "You have a lovely voice-"
"I can't believe you heard me!" she mumbled into her hands. "I…I don't sing, Erik."
"You just need a bit of vocal training," he suggested.
"I'm not a singer," she shook her head. "The last time I sang was at my father's birthday, the year before he died. My stepsister, Helen, and stepmother, Capucine, ridiculed me when he wasn't in the room. They said I sounded like a yowling cat."
"May Erik strangle them for you?" he snarled, gripping the oars tightly. "You sounded nothing like a yowling cat, and you should not let their words discourage you-"
"Erik, I've really never been one to sing in front of anybody. I freeze," she confessed. "I don't think I sound terrible, but I get petrified when people listen to me sing. Besides, there are others with lovelier voices. Look at Christine-"
"Each person has their own talents," Erik cut in, setting the oars aside and reaching for her hand. "You cannot sing like Christine, but your voice is still something very precious. It made Erik's heart want to sing in reply."
"But-" she protested.
"Do not compare – each of you is beautiful in your own way."
She stared at him shyly, accepting his hands as she nodded in defeat.
"…will you let Erik give you lessons?" he asked, a hesitant smile growing on his face. "Just the two of us. Christine does not have to be there if you are truly uncomfortable."
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she nodded once more, tucking her hair out of her face. "I…I would like that. Thank you. Thank you, Erik."
Squeezing her hand, he released her and got back to the oars, her voice echoing in his mind as he continued along. The smile on his face would not disappear as he recalled how his soul was instantly drawn to her sweet, ringing, warm voice. With lessons and practice, she would be perfect. True, she was not Christine Daae, but the more he thought about it, he found that he didn't want her to be like Christine…he just wanted her to be herself.