Christine stared out her bedroom window. Their home was right by the river, and beyond she could see the domed and spiraling rooftops that made up the majority of homes in Uppsala. Beyond them were the lush green hills she remembered most vividly from her childhood with her father and mother.
She smiled contentedly to herself. Raoul would be home soon.
He'd advanced with surprising speed in the ranks of the police force. Against his expectations, the commissioner in Paris came through with a glowing reference; which, combined with Uppsala's commissioner taking a shine to the charismatic and talented young man, placed him in an enviable position. He was now the commissioner's personal secretary, and in a year's time was expected to undergo training for deputy.
Their home was not large or fashionable, but it was comfortable and well-kept. Raoul in his enthusiasm had ensured that whomever passed the house would be able to tell right away the house's dwellers were foreign; its design was too self-consciously classical Swedish in design, with its garrets and gables.
Still, Christine felt such a homey cheer whenever she was within the walls. Their three massive, rambunctious, good-natured dogs loped about outside in the yard, barking happily at people, animals, and leaves.
Home. Yes. This, this is home.
Paris was never hers, never truly. Perros-Guirec was a beautiful dream.
But this, the solid Swedish earth with the brisk winter winds and endless rolling hills, this is where her blood flowed and called out home home home.
She smiled into the twilight sky outside her window.
However, a slight shade fell on her good mood. A carriage arrived outside.
Raoul's sisters and their friends were back from their outing to the park.
Christine had only escaped accompanying them by claiming she did not feel well, something easily believable in her condition.
She instinctively placed a protective hand on her protruding stomach beneath the dress she'd had to let out as the months passed and her condition expanded her waistline.
Anxiety pricked the back of her neck like nettles.
Poor panicky Roberte had finally succeeded in thawing Laverne just enough to open back up a relationship with their brother – only when Laverne heard of Christine's pregnancy.
"It also helps that after talking to our various attorneys, she realized she couldn't actually disinherit me," Raoul added bitterly when they'd received her polite but coldly formal letter of forgiveness and intention to visit.
"Raoul," Christine had said nervously, "I've never even met your sisters, and here they are bringing a houseful of guests to come see me, in my condition?"
She'd not had the easiest pregnancy. Morning, afternoon, and evening sickness plagued her. Her doctor recommended bed rest intermittently, and she wasn't gaining as much weight as she should. On top of that, Raoul's sisters….
"If you don't want them here, just tell me," Raoul said quickly, a fierce fire in his eyes. His hand was tight on hers.
Her heart warmed at his vehemence, but she knew she couldn't stand in the way of this reconciliation. And Raoul…Raoul needed to learn to let her fight her own battles a little. And she needed to learn that, too.
Theirs was a peaceful, tranquil union, but conflict arose when Christine's melancholia reared its head. She was generally a happy woman, but even so, there were nights, mornings, when a thick fog would descend on her, and she could barely find the energy to get out of bed, much less smile or enjoy herself.
Raoul was only slowly learning how to cope with this. At first he'd been too proactive, too eager to clear this fog for her with his own two hands. He'd burst in with a new sunhat for her, announcing, "We're off for a walk!" Or he'd bring in Mountebank, their large Newfoundland mix, and claim, "Look here! I taught him how to stand on his hind legs!"
At last, Christine snapped. "Raoul, stop! I don't just want to be alone, I need to be alone. Leave me be!"
Raoul stilled. Her face was red. He'd never seen her so angry.
Without a word, he'd turned and walked out the house.
By the time he came back late at night, both were more than eager to make up.
Christine sobbed in his arms. "I'm such – such a wreck! Such a cruel wife! You were only trying to cheer me up, and I" –
"Shh, shh," Raoul comforted her, patting her back. "Nonsense, love. I just – I just don't know what to do." He swept the damp curls from her wet cheeks and stared her steadily in the eyes. "Please, tell me what to do."
Christine's heart hurt. She'd never seen the look of a confused little boy in her self-assured husband's eyes before.
She finally shook her head, shrugging. "My love, there's nothing you can do. Space truly is what I need. These moods of mine…" She exhaled. "These moods of mine will pass."
She could see the 'take-charge' vitality within him rise up. "But I" –
She placed a soft hand on his mouth. "Please. I'm not rejecting you. Lord knows I still need your help. But…trust me on this."
Breathing in, he nodded.
He still struggled holding back his savior complex, and she still struggled articulating what she needed. They were getting there, however.
But now –
Laverne, Roberte, and their society friends had taken residence in their relatively small home for three weeks now.
Christine closed her eyes and cringed at the familiar sharp rap on her bedroom door.
I stood up to La Carlotta and the infamous Opera Ghost, I can face a couple of old ladies, she repeated to herself.
She opened her door to queenly Laverne and hesitant Roberte behind her.
Laverne immediately had Christine's chin in her cold hand and twisted her face softly, this way and that. "Hm. You're still pale, my dear."
Christine had noticed the instant she met Laverne that the older woman had a way of speaking to her with her head leaned back, literally looking down her nose at her. It was as if she had a physical distaste for the Jewish former singer, and this was the only way she could manage interacting with her.
Christine was too tired, both physically and emotionally, to put up much of a fight, as much as she loathed this manifestation of bigotry. "Yes, I'm still feeling rather low."
"Oh, poor dear, poor dear," Roberte said in that high-pitched baby voice that always set Christine's teeth on edge. Roberte was obviously far kinder and more flexible than her sister, but she had such a patronizing fluttering away about her that drove Christine close to madness.
She thanked every deity she could think of when Laverne crisply announced, "You need more rest. You get right in that bed. I'll play the hostess at dinner tonight."
"Thank you, Laverne. I hate to miss dinner with you all, but maybe you're right." Christine swallowed her smile of relief.
As a sneering afterthought, Laverne pat Christine's cheek quickly. "I will inform Raoul when he comes home." She turned and left.
"I'll have dinner sent up to you, dear heart," Roberte said, patting Christine's hand like a child. "Madame Durand has bought us the most delicious duck! I'll make sure to soak it in broth for you."
Flopping away like a hen, she left Christine after the expectant mother murmured her thank yous.
Sighing, Christine collapsed on her bed, staring at her ceiling.
Would they never leave?
Some of the first words out of Laverne's mouth upon arriving was her intention to stay long enough to see Christine and the child "settled." Whatever that meant to her.
Loneliness Christine hadn't felt since her father's death washed over her.
Raoul was her greatest comfort, but he couldn't be around her all the time with his work load, and Christine couldn't confide in the ladies Laverne and Roberte brought with them. They all looked upon her in the same cold, patronizing light as the sisters.
Christine desperately missed someone she could confide in, to moan about her pregnancy with in ways she truly couldn't with Raoul, open-minded as he was.
She needed –
She knew whom she needed, but that was impossible.
That person was off in Paris, leading a fantastical career, alongside –
Alongside –
She shivered and a faint nausea returned to her.
Alongside the Phantom of the Opera.
Yes, she still heard the Angel's voice sing softly to her, when the sun lowered in the evening.
The Angel. Erik, his name was.
Did she miss him? Yes, but it was the Angel she missed – the man was never meant to be in her life.
But that other little figure she thought of, with her inquisitive sharp looks and wide smiles…yes, Christine longed for that friend by her side now.
They maintained a steady correspondence, but Christine could never quite capture in written word all that was whirling around in her: anxiety and excitement at the idea of motherhood, her irritation with Raoul's family, her periodic melancholy. Her letters read to her like dull reports instead of anything close to the intimacy she craved to share.
If she could just see that kindly, sprightly face again, she knew the words she was searching for would erupt to the surface…
Christine perked up as the dogs barked anew and she heard the crunch of gravel outside. Another carriage. Raoul!
Smoothing her gown, she peeked out the window. It was too dark to see anything, but she believed she saw Raoul, and he was ferrying in another figure. Oh, good lord, had another friend of Laverne and Roberte's arrived? She couldn't take it, she just couldn't take it.
Overcome with that fiery temper that came with her pregnancy, Christine marched back to her bed and turned angrily from the door. Even though rationally she knew Raoul was not to blame, that it was she herself who'd talked him round to letting Laverne and Roberte come, right now she petulantly did blame him. He should have known she was up to here with guests, so to add another –
A knock on the door.
She leaned her head back, swallowing another groan. "Who is it?" She asked in a reedy voice.
An unfamiliar feminine voice with a thick foreign accent called, "Your soup, Madame! Madame Roberte sent me!"
Christine frowned, truly angry now. So, they were hiring new maids without consulting her now, were they?
She'd show them.
Christine strode angrily to the door and opened it.
Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened.
The smiling face in front of her stuck her tongue out and curtseyed, holding up the tray of soup, a large bouquet of flowers tucked between her arm and ribcage.
"Meg!"
"Christine!"
The two friends laughed and shrieked. Anyone seeing Christine moments before would have thought her brought back to life by magic. Meg clumsily set the soup down sloshing on its tray, and they embraced through the now crushed flowers, which were then flung absently on the bed.
"You've come!" Christine choked out ecstatically though her tears of gladness.
Meg laughed fondly. "Oh, don't cry, Christine!" She brushed her friend's tears away. "That clever husband of yours arranged it with me in secret to surprise you. He sent me up with the soup."
She took Christine's hands and looked her over, marveling. "It's true, it's really true! You're going to be a mother!"
Christine giggled. "Did you think I'd fibbed in my letters?"
"It's one thing to read it in a letter, but to see it…."
Christine blushed and looked her friend over in return. Meg looked…Meg looked so different. Of course, that sunny, youthful look of tranquil liveliness about her sweet features was ever unchanging. But her dress, her hair! Where were the thick bouncing curls and girlish ribbons? The tutu and ballet slippers had been traded in for a silk traveling gown of deep aubergine with gold jacket, and that bright mane was swept softly up beneath a smart black velvet hat with purple feather.
She has indeed been taken under Mademoiselle Li's tutelage, Christine thought, biting her lip. She looked down at her own swelling stomach and dressing gown. "I look a fright, I'm sure," she mumbled self-consciously.
"Rubbish!" Meg said, meaning it. Christine was obviously exhausted, and she was very pale. Dark blue circled the bottoms of her eyes. However, there was a soft radiance about her fuller face, her slender hands on her stomach, that made her more beautiful than Meg had ever seen her. "You look like a dream."
They embraced again.
Reality returned to Christine through her relieved wave of excitement. "Raoul sent for you, you say?"
"Mm-hmm," Meg said, taking off her hat. "He wrote me that you might need one of your own friends by your side right now, not one of his sisters' friends."
The dancer noted the look of blissful gratitude on her friend's face.
"Have they all really been so awful?" Meg whispered.
Christine blushed. "Well…yes and no. They mean well, I'm sure, but they're all so…distant yet intrusive at the same time! And the way they all sit and look at me, as if they know, just know that any second I'm going to reveal I'm nothing but a low-class chit. Like I'll cuss or get drunk or something."
Grinning, Christine lightly swatted Meg's arm as the girl giggled.
"I'm sorry, Christine! I'm just trying to picture you of all people cussing and drinking!"
"I know, so am I!"
The girls laughed again. Downstairs Raoul smiled at the sound, carrying from upstairs. He was especially amused by the contrasting grim faces of Laverne and her party at the sound.
Christine laid her head on Meg's shoulder, easily falling back into the role of the understudy dancer seeking comfort. She thought vaguely of that indistinct image of her mother as Meg stroked her curls. "How is everything in Paris?"
Meg heard all the words Christine didn't ask and chose her own words carefully. "Oh, it's fine. Gisele's all wrapped up, and they haven't decided what should come next. Apparently there are a few options the board are mulling over, but it's tricky getting the rights. Cecile is getting married in June. Little Clara just joined the children's ballet. Mother has helped me fix up the new house quite well. The downstairs fireplace is finally fixed." She took a deep breath. "Everyone else is well."
Christine closed her eyes. Meg ignored her shiver, letting her work it out for herself.
At last Christine spoke again, in a very small voice. "How long can you stay?"
Meg squeezed her hand. "As long as you need me, Christine."
Christine smiled against her shoulder.
A/N: Short but hopefully sweet! Apologies for the hiatus. I've been busy moving. I'm also adjusting to more hours at my job. So expect more updates, but they might be at random intervals!