"Erik, are you the Phantom of the Opera house?"
Her question hung heavily in the air around them. It was oppressive, even more so than anything he could have imagined. He was having trouble breathing. She had figured it out, the clever girl. Oh, he'd known that her naivete had been a little act, a way to keep others from getting too close, but he was proud of her for coming to that conclusion on her own nonetheless. Her eyes, so guileless, were still trained on his unmasked face.
"Why would you think I am, Christine?" he asked, attempting to regain self-control. He felt exposed.
She stared down at her hands, limp by her plate on the table. "It was a foolish idea, wasn't it? But you are so brilliant, and the Phantom is said to be quite conniving and manipulative. It . . . was only . . . You were with me the entire time I lived here . . . and there were no tales of strange happenings during that time . . . It seemed to me to make sense if you were." She felt so like a little girl who still believed every fairy tale she heard. And, now, he surely thought her terribly immature!
"That would make sense, would it not?" His eyes glowed with mischief. Perhaps now he had an equal, someone to help him be in two places at once. No, he couldn't involve this sweet girl in such seedy matters. "You are far smarter than those aboveground give you credit for. You've not told any others of what you have postulated, correct?"
She jerked her head up so suddenly, he feared she might snap something if she weren't careful. "No! Of course not. They think so little of me as it is. I could not have them laughing at me for claiming to know who the Opera Ghost is, or even voicing such thoughts as I've had. Worse, the managers might think me mad, or in league with him . . . that is, with you . . ."
"Tricky girl," he smirked. "You see more than you let on. Why did you not ask me of this sooner?"
She smiled, relieved that he'd not laughed at her. "I wasn't sure how you'd react. It was such a . . . strange idea . . . that my angel should also be a ghost, that my love could be an extortionist."
"Extortionist?" he feigned umbrage. "Oh, my dear, I simply instruct the managers as to what they should do . . . who should be cast in which roles. Is it wrong to expect payment for such services as I provide?" He clutched at his heart melodramatically.
She lifted the back of her hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes back. "Oh, forgive me for wounding your pride so, monsieur!"
They shared a hearty chuckle.
"Tell me, Erik, how did you become the Phantom?"
"It is . . . not a terribly exciting tale, I fear. I merely preyed upon already superstitious minds and made . . . predictions as to what would occur. It was not very difficult to convince the first managers - those that were here before Debienne and Poligny - of this place being haunted. There were enough stories of what I'd done while the building was being constructed that it was easy enough for them to believe me to be a real spectre. They - the first managers - had been involved in theatre long enough to know better than to tempt fate. Debienne and Poligny took a bit of convincing, but not much. A few well-timed . . . accidents . . . but Moncharmin and Richard have proved more . . . resistant . . . to my suggestions."
She nodded again, wondering if he'd had something to do with Carlotta falling ill that night a month before. Would he really have gone so far just to give her a chance to be in the limelight for a moment?
The following morning, as promised, Erik went to Anne Valerius's flat to speak with her about a trip to Perros-Guirec. Her face lit up at the prospect of seeing her old home.
"Oh, perhaps we might be able to procure the cottage we rented before we moved to Paris! That would be nice, but I wonder if it wouldn't make Christine sad to, well, to be surrounded by all those memories."
"I daresay, Anne, that she will be surrounded by memories either way."
"Ah, I believe you are right, my dear boy. I trust that you shall take good care of things."
"Yes, I hope so. Thank you for your help, Anne. Shall I have lunch delivered, my lady?"
She smiled at his polite formality. "Yes, I would appreciate that. Volanges is not feeling all that well today and Engström has had to go out of town to tend to her ill sister."
"Should I fetch a doctor for Mlle. Volanges?" Erik couldn't help but worry.
"That's quite all right. Doctor Vronsky was here last night; he gave her some medicine that made her sleepy."
"I do hope she'll be well in time for our trip to Perros-Guirec." For some inexplicable reason, he didn't feel right about leaving the young woman, so close in age to his precious Christine, alone for so much time.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure she will be. The sea air should do her good."
"It should do us all some good, I think."
Planning for four people to go to the seaside village was more difficult than he'd imagined it would have been.
Purchasing a carriage was the simplest part. Then there was the matter of hiring a driver who wouldn't ask too many questions and did what he was told. There was the issue of renting a cottage near enough to the cemetery that Anne would not have too long to walk but not so near as to upset Christine. And it should have a view of the shore so they could have the music of the waves crashing while they enjoyed breakfast. And it should be roomy enough to keep Erik from feeling claustrophobic.
Bad things happened when he felt trapped.
It should have been a simple enough task for him to find a place like that, but it wasn't. The best he could do was a house that was too big to be called a cottage and was a bit farther from the cemetery than he might have chosen.
He'd have to get one of those wheeled chairs, then, just in case.
And, really, a house that was larger than what they actually needed was better than one too small. It would show Anne that he would be capable of providing Christine with anything she might need throughout their life together. Anything she needed, anything she wanted, and still have enough left over to provide for her should something happen to him.
He'd have to teach her how to defend herself on this trip, he determined. She was strong enough from her years of dancing and wandering the Swedish countryside with her father, but he wanted to make sure she would not fall victim to anyone. Perhaps he would teach little Volanges, as well.