Chapter 1- The end of a fairytale
Christine rode on and on into the rainy night with no thought but what she was doing… how wrong it was but how right it felt. She could not explain why she was there or why she was returning to the last place she ever wanted to see again. The place she had sworn to forsake forever and furthermore had sworn to her future husband never to go back to again. In the distance the beautiful mansion was dark save for the library where Mademoiselle Keen, the head maid was no doubt educating herself. She was a sweet young woman, only three years older than Christine and very efficient at her job.
It took her a few minutes to remember that her name was Mary, ah yes poor sweet Mary. The only fried she had in that big house other than Raoul. Kind and innocent and painfully shy the young woman reminded Christine of herself. Mary being the young girl that she is was quite the romantic. She was always dreaming of finding that one true love of her own, expressing playful envy at Christine's upcoming nuptials to Raoul. Christine had often assured her that although she had neither parents nor education Raoul would give her a dowry to order to get a man just as well-off and kind as himself.
"Oh Madame I cannot ask for the master to do something like that. I am nothing but an orphan worse a lovechild." Mary blushed shyly.
"Nonsense, Mary I'm the daughter of a poor violinist and a blind dreamy old woman." Christine revealed her secret to her fried with a little twinkle on her blue eyes.
She flashed a sisterly smile at the twinkling light in her brown eyes, "Oh of course Madame." The maid bobbed a curtsy.
Christine shook her head, "How many times must I tell you to not call me 'Madame?' Please It's Christine and don't curtsy to me either. Now run along my friend I must get some rest before dinner, I feel rather drained."
When she had brought the idea up to Raoul the Vicomte was a bit hesitant, and rejected the idea at first. "Christine, I don't know, I mean it would be different if she was a woman of some levity but we are talking about an illegitimate servant here."
Christine shook her head annoyed; she really hated it when her fiancé went into diplomacy and things like that. Raoul did not know this but he was a, how did Mary put this…a lovechild and illegitimate or so his paternal grandmother said. Indeed her future in-laws seemed calm about their engagement were perfectly accepting. Of course she was surprised for her love had warned her that they would not accept her and that her station would be a problem and so on. Christine had thanked him for the early warning, kissed his cheek and followed him upstairs to bed. The young woman remembering the day she had discovered the truth about her future husband.
She had closed her eyes from a long crying spell from her ordeal with Erik; Raoul'd had trouble sleeping that night due to the summer heat. Her lover had held her gently whispering that haunting lullaby of his proposal in that sweet honeyed baritone that had soothed her so tenderly on the roof of the opera house. His warm hands were tangled tenderly in her curls as he whispered in her ear. Christine tried to focus on him, on the warmth and strength of his touch, on the loving words being whispered softly in her ear.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude.
Say you need me with you here; beside you…Anywhere you go let me go too…
Christine, that's all I ask of you…"
Christine closed her eyes leaning against him, trying to relax enough to be soothed by her lover. Raoul restarted the song and wrapped his arms around her drawing her closer to him and she snuggled into him, warm and drowsy, moaning softly as he stroked her neck. Sleep at last overtook her and her lover, Raoul's snores rumbling into her neck. Christine sighed and let herself sleep, with the song still whispering in the back of her mind. Christine thought that tonight in the arms of her Knight she would be safe from dreams of any kind.
But it was not to be as she found herself in the arms of another man, his touch cold but his grip like steel. His silver eyes gleaming with a dark possession that made her tremble, beauty came from his lips. A haunting and terrible beauty as that booming tenor softened and rose with each swell of the music. His touch intensifying and tenderizing with the music as he called out in a smooth voice that she had passed the point of no return. Then the music slowed and his movements became almost as loving as Raoul's as his voice recited the proposal in an agonized tone.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me save me from my solitude.
Say you want me with you here; beside you…Anywhere you go let me go too…
Christine, that's all I ask of…you."
He turned to look at her, his icy hand gripping the back of her neck with a fierce possessive torture. Erik tipped her chin to look at him and that moment she saw a man, not a monster but a poor lonely man so desperate for love. In the crowd Raoul snapped his fingers and the police loaded, cocked, and aimed his rifle. He looked ready to fire and she turned to Erik with the rawest look of guilt in her eyes. She reached up and, in a last attempt to save the man she had once called her angel, removed his mask.
People screamed and the women in the audience fainted in the arms of their gentlemen chaperones. Erik looked at her with one painful question burning in his raindrop-gray eyes as they stared into her blue eyes, 'why?' Then she heard a pop and Erik clutched at his heart as he toppled to the floor of the stage. Blood, the color of chocolate-flavored liquorish leaked out in a sickly puddle that soaked the hem of her dress. Erik was gasping, trying to speak as his life's-blood gurgled in his throat, trickled down his chin in one solitary drop.
In a pained gasp, struggling for words he said at last, "I… have… been… killed… for… our… love… Christine…"
She could not find her voice even though she tried with all her might to comfort the pitiful man on the floor. All she could do was sit there kneeling by him and allow him to wrap his cold deadly hand around hers. Christine shook her head and stroked the dark strands of hair from his face, humming to him softly as if he were a child receiving his first cut. The ingénue wiped the hot tears from his cheeks and kissed his clammy forehead. Erik's breath shuddered in his throat and his eyes closed, and then in one last breath he spoke, quite clearly before his angel's voice was snuffed out forever.
"May your handsome young lover watch over you now… and give you what I wish I'd gave you somehow…"
Christine cradled his head in her lap; the smile of peace at the tenderness she had given him in his last moment did nothing to ease the pang in her heart. The young woman leaned her forehead against his and let her tears wash his corps-like face. Her breath came out in great pained gasps as she apologized over and over for his loss and for her ignorance of the fierceness of his love. But it was no good; her teacher was as dead as his visage appeared.
"No…Erik no…" she mumbled aloud as she opened her eyes and searched the room.
"Mmm," Raoul murmured, not fully asleep yet, "Christine what is it?"
"Erik…" she sobbed.
Raoul mumbled and pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair. "Erik is gone my love, I'm here, you're all right. Now fall asleep…" Raoul's voice sounded as though he were already drifting off.
She had not slept well that night the dreams tormented her but she slept nonetheless because her body was so tired that she had no energy to try to stay awake. Her eyes would not open even if she forced them to. Christine let out a tiny snore without even hearing it, Raoul woke up slightly and she felt him smile indulgently into her hair. Christine felt him draw her close and then she knew nothing else until daylight warmed her eyelids. She woke up and heard people downstairs laughing cordially and when she came down the whole Chagny family was there, Raoul already chatting merrily with them about his beautiful bride.
Christine stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the beautiful family all sitting there sipping chamomile tea and eating English crumpets. They were all talking at once about how curios they were to meet the one Raoul called an angel of music. Her blue eyes shimmered with caution and she caught a glimpse of herself disheveled and sleep-mussed from the long night. The young woman shook her head and crept back to her bedchamber calling for Mary in frantic haste. She ran in her brown eyes worried and heavy with morning drowsiness.
"Yes Ma—I mean Christine, are you all right?" she asked.
"I need your help Mary Raoul's family is here and look at me I'm a mess!" she said.
Mary blinked and ran to Christine's side, trying to calm her down pressing her onto the chair in front of her vanity. She hummed a little folk-song as she combed out Christine's strawberry-blonde hair and handed her a warm washcloth to wash the crust of a poor night's sleep from her eyes before she met the glamorous people downstairs. People, Raoul had said would have trouble accepting her as it was. Mary opened her huge walk-in closet and asked her which dress she would like to wear. Christine looked at the beautiful tailored gowns in colorful rows before her and shook her head at them. She was about to select a blue one just the exact shade of her eyes when Mary suddenly presented her with a large white box.
"A gift from the master," She said adopting that formal servant's tone that Christine detested so much.
"Thank you," she replied and undid the violet ribbon keeping it shut.
Inside was a beautiful white gown made of silk and adorned with what appeared to be real silver on the front. She fingered the material, so soft and cool; when she held it to the light the shiny bodice caught the sunlight and held it. Christine smiled at its beauty, she was not materialistic but she did love it when her fiancé thought of her. The young girl had long since given up on asking him to stop spoiling her rotten. Christine turned to Mary and asked her if she would help her put the dress on, Mary's eyes smiled as she shook her head and did as she was asked. Her master did indeed like spoiling Christine and yet the woman remained as gentle and good-natured as if she were no more than a servant herself.
"You look beautiful Christine as always…" Mary whispered as she placed the final pin in her hair.
"Thank you Mary." Christine replied, "Well into the lion's den then…" she muttered to herself and descended down the hallway.
She stopped in the doorway as a hush came over the room and the whole De Chagny clan stared at her. Christine offered a shy smile, their stares making her uneasy as a man slightly older than Raoul; most likely his nephew Charles put down his cup of tea with a slow soft clank. Three young women gasped and the old woman smiled as though she had just seen a fairy for the first time. Raoul craned his neck to see the cause of the sudden silence in the conversation and his eyes glittered with pride.
"Good morning Raoul," she said timidly.
He spun on his heel and walked over to her, kissing her hands one at a time, "ah there you are little Lotte."
His grandmother stood up with a little closed mouth smile and walked forward to greet her with a glint of wisdom in her eyes. "Well if it isn't that little Swedish girl that gave my grandson such trouble."
"Trouble," Christine repeated paling a little as the old woman opened her arms to give her a hug. Raoul nodded at Christine's surprised look and she accepted the gesture.
"My grandson came down with a terrible fever after saving your scarf." She explained.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Madame…" Christine said a bit frightened of her next sentence.
"Oh nonsense child, it's not your fault if my Raoul is foolish." She gave her a motherly squeeze on the shoulder. "Now my dear would you mind coming into the parlor with me? I wish to speak with you privately." Christine looked puzzled for a moment but followed the woman anyway after another nod from Raoul. "You know my dear- what's your name again?"
"Christine Daaë Madame," she replied, as she poured two cups of tea handing one to Raoul's grandmother.
"Ah yes, the diva that brought the whole of Paris to their knees, myself included you know." She said.
Christine had to smile. She was beginning to like this woman.
"Ah yes, I attended the opera regularly before that ugly man burnt it down." The old woman replied.
Christine blinked suddenly offended for no reason, because Erik was indeed ugly as sin still she was peevish about the old woman's criticism. What did she know of Erik's ugliness when her beauty had long ago faded? Christine sipped her tea, she should be agreeing with her, she knew but Christine just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"He's not that ugly…" she said feeling the need to defend her teacher.
The old woman patted her hand with an indulgent gleam in her eyes, "Oh what a sweet little girl you are! Pretty too, but of course you know he is…and what a bastard too –forgive my poor language- carrying you off like that!"
"He only did it because he loved me…" Christine muttered under her breath.
"What was that dearie?" The other asked.
"Nothing," Christine said quickly.
The old woman seemed to nod in approval, "you know you remind me very much of Raoul's mother. "
"The Comtesse," Christine replied confused, she had seen pictures of the woman before and there was no resemblance.
"Oh no, no my dear not her!" she laughed in that trademark old-woman's ho-ho "Did Raoul not tell you?"
"No…" Christine looked slightly injured, "He didn't tell me anything."
The old woman patted her hand, "Of course, he didn't! How silly of me! He can't tell you things he knows nothing about now can he?"
"I suppose not, but then how can he not know who his own mother is?" Christine asked.
A spark of indignation lit the old woman's eyes, "My dear you do not seriously think that we should tell the poor lad that! I mean think of the shame of it all, the damage to his reputation!"
"Forgive me for asking my lady but how should his mother damage his reputation? Why should he not know?" Christine's eyes were wide with childish innocence.
Her expression softened slightly at the tone of Christine's voice, "I'm getting to that."
"I beg your pardon Madame…" Christine cast her eyes down in contrition, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie-jar.
The old woman went on, "His father, my son and only child the great Philibert, Comte de Chagny was not in love with Raoul's mother. Not at all she was pretty and good natured and had born him three children. But the real love of his life was Alice Chatton."
"The actress you mean the one most famous for her role as Juliet?" Christine asked surprised, the dowager Comtesse smiled.
"You've heard of her then." She said coolly.
Christine nodded of course she had heard of the great Alice Chatton. Her stage name Goldie-Locks. Goldie was a shimmering beauty with golden hair, beautiful soft blue eyes and a wily innocence that drove the men to madness. Of course she could see just what happened in her mind's eye. But then she could not be Raoul's mother, everyone knew the Comte was a steady and sober man. Raoul had indeed told her that, he was exquisitely polite to women but she had always thought this just a part of his excellent upbringing.
"But why would the Comte commit an infidelity? From what Raoul said He seemed like such a faithful and romantic man." Christine said, puzzled
The old woman laughed, "Romantic my son was but faithful he was not, worse though even though she was the most famous seductress in Paris she had a very delicate heart."
"Oh?" Christine asked, her eyebrows rose to her forehead.
She nodded bitterly, "Very delicate indeed my son fell in love with her just like every other man in the audience that night. He all-too-quickly forgot his vows to his wife. Alice was all too happy to receive his attentions." The old woman looked sour for a moment.
Christine nodded saying, "I can imagine."
"The problem really was that Celeste was pretty indeed but she was…well shamefully ill in the heart." She looked sad.
"Forgive me, but I'm confused Madame. But how was she ill?" Christine asked.
"My son's wife did not love him it was an arranged marriage. She loved someone else." She said with an it-does-not-matter wave of her hand.
"I see." Christine replied not bothering to ask who it was.
"Anyways," the Comtesse continued, "The hussy ignored the wedding ring gleaming on his finger. She seduced my weak-willed womanizing son with no trouble first in one of the bedrooms of the great Château and then in the summer cottage he kept for holidays. Hell it became her house altogether and he came time and time again while his wife was having one of her 'bad days'. It was not long before little Raoul was born with all of his mother's beauty and poor Alice died in childbirth."
"I see, Madame, I hope you do not mean that I am a hussy who has seduced your grandson for my own purposes?"
"Oh no, but let me just warn you. Her beauty was not the only thing Raoul was born with. He has his mother's delicate heart. One thing I will say for Alice is that she did love my son, she honestly did. With all the other men she protected herself but with him she begged him to conceive with her." She said, "Raoul's love, like hers is not easily given but very easily broken. Now off you go…"
Christine nodded and went out lacing her fingers through Raoul's; he turned to her with a boyish grin. "I love you." She whispered.
"Always Little Lotte and when we're married our life will be perfect." He bent down and gave her a small kiss.
She was leaving her life behind. Once again there she was, going back into the lion's den and when Raoul woke she would break his love and his delicate heart. Destroy his love and end their dreams. There was no explanation other than this draw, this pull back into the world of music and fading lights. Christine remembered the magic, the mystery, the glory of the roar of the thunderous applause of the huge crowds as she waded in a pond of roses. Her eyes were closed before she knew it, not in sleep but in memory.
The young girl remembered the opera, the night she saw Raoul in her dressing room. Erik saying in a jealous voice that Raoul was nothing and she had best forget about him. Her night with Erik when he had ran his hands salaciously over her body and the sight of the gown so painstakingly made just for her. She remembered what he'd told her.
"Hearing is believing, music is deceiving, hard as lightning soft as candlelight…
Dare you trust the music of the night?"
Christine was so tired but sleep would not come. No rest for her this night at least, her body was awake and alive and her voice rose in her throat as though she would burst into song at any moment. She just told the chauffer to go on and on towards the opera house or rather what was left of it. In the distance she could see the outline of the once beautiful building now charred and still sparking from the last flickers of the shattered chandelier. They approached the opera house and the driver turned to her with a rather quizzical look cocking one of his bushy red eyebrows up to his forehead as if asking her if she was sure that she wanted to go there.
The young woman nodded and he pulled up to the wreckage and allowed her to step out. She turned to him. "Go back to the estate Pierre I will not return there tonight." Or ever again. She thought. With that she turned and walked into the ruins, finding the charred room with a broken mirror that would lead her to a man she had thought mad… the one man she had always dreamed of in all her fantasies…