Chapter 2: Notes

Her suitcases arrived seconds after Madame Giry left, and Christine bathed, reveling in the melodies that echoed throughout the building. She had, in fact, brought her own amenities. And while Madame had helped untangle some of the knots in her hair, she spent more time than she'd like to admit brushing the remaining tangles out.

A half-hour later, Christine emerged from the bath, her skin scented of roses. Leaving the bathroom, she begrudgingly stared at the corset sitting on her bed. With great effort, she managed to lace herself up, which left little space to breathe.

Christine pulled out a suitcase from underneath her bed, one which her father had packed, and insisted he must be the one to place it on the carriage, and true to his word, he had made sure that it was the first one put onto the back of the carriage, minutes before he had passed in her arms.

Placing it on her comforter, she opened it to find a note with her name in his elegant cursive handwriting. Wasting no time, she grabbed the note and unsealed it, pulling it out of the envelope gingerly. Christine began reading.

My dear Little Lotte,

The time has come for your life to begin, and your dear old father has some words of advice and life lessons for you. Understandably it is more sensible to write it in the form of a letter after I've left you, rather than tell you in person and have you assure me by repeatedly saying "I know father, I know". But I write this letter because I love you dearly, and your mother does too, God rest her soul.

First of all, pay attention. You are in a new place hours away, and I cannot live with myself if something happens to you. So please take aware of your surroundings.

Second, be curious. Do not let the world pass you by. There is so much waiting for you to explore. Ask bold questions, preferably to those who see you as an equal, not a submissive woman below them. You are so much more than that, Christine and you know that.

Third, trust yourself. Trust your journey and trust your faith, they will guide you. And God willing if I am to remain here as long as I am able I do not have to send the Angel of Music too soon. But life always has a way of working itself out. Maybe you will find your Angel sooner than that.

Fourth and finally, please remember that there is no place like home. You shall always have a roof over your head and a full stomach, no matter where you decide to go during or after the opera.

Now those are my life lessons. Here is my advice.

First, leave no one behind. You will meet many new friends, I am sure, and if you go out anywhere, make sure they are not left behind. Paris may look beautiful from the outside, but it can be ugly on the inside, and people, especially men, can and will take advantage of that. Be safe please, for your dear old father.

Second, I can hear it now "I will NOT do it". Protect your drink and do not accept opiates. Place your hand above your glass to protect yourself. I have heard too many whispers across town as of recently and we are fortunate enough that we live on the outskirts and do not have to fear attending social events. Paris is much different, my dear.

Third, please refrain from going out alone or with others while it is dark. I should not have to explain this one, but please go out in a group if possible. Please have fun and live life, but do it safely.

Fourth and finally, please do try to avoid men. Young adult men (and older men) do not always have your best interests and heart as a priority. If you do choose to date, or Heavens above court, please do notify me so I may meet him. You have grown into a beautiful young woman and you deserve nothing less than to be treated like a queen (I am sure your future spouse would agree).

Christine, I have one last confession to make to you. I have done my best to hide it because I was afraid to see how you would possibly react, and if I told you, you never would have left my side. I have been falling ill, and it has been especially egregious on my heart. The doctor believes all will be well if I rest, but knowing you were to leave, I could not bear to do that. A rebellious action on my part, but all the more worth it to see you off. Please do not worry about me, I will be with you always.

If anything is to happen to me, Little Lotte, God willing I am graced to stay longer upon this beautiful Earth, I have hidden an envelope in the lining of your red suitcase. Please hold onto it and trust that if that time ever comes, you make plans with Madame Giry, she will know how to help you.

My dear Christine, I love you with all of my heart, and please hold onto this note if you ever need a reminder of me. I surely have many of you around the house. It has been the greatest service in my life being your father.

I have purchased this for you in the hopes that it will make you feel beautiful and confident as we have raised you to be. Go show them all what you can do, your star shines brighter than you can imagine.

Your loving father,

Gustave Daaé

Inside the suitcase was a burgundy taffeta ballgown with black lace on the bodice and train. Black beads strung down from the capped sleeves of the gown, and Christine placed the letter back into the envelope and began dressing.

Meg had a floor-length mirror in front of her bed, and so when had finally managed to fit into the dress, she stood in front of it. The dress hugged her curves beautifully, accentuating her womanly figure. The train was fairly short, so she did not need to fear getting it trampled on by the crowd she had witnessed earlier backstage. But her father was right. She felt confident and beautiful. She couldn't begin to imagine how much he had paid for this gown.

Christine smiled. "I will make you proud, father". Moving away from the mirror, she took the letter and placed it on the nightstand beside her bed and crouched down to the floor, and pulled out the red suitcase. They did not have a lot of money, but they lived comfortably. Opening the suitcase, Christine took out belongings that consisted of shifts and other feminine amenities and felt along the lining for the said hidden pocket. Her finger finally found the untucked fabric and she pulled out the letter hidden among it.

Written on the envelope was The Last Will and Testament of Monsieur Gustave Antonio Daaé which read,

Within this letter is my last will and testament, wherein the contents will be handed to Christine Olivia Daaé, daughter of Madame Adaline Marie Daaé (deceased), our only child. Upon the moment of my death, she shall inherit our estate in Calais, alongside 50,000 Francs, our life savings.

Christine gasped in shock, the letter falling from her hands. Everything. He had left everything to her.

Several hours gave Christine the time to process what her father had done. The orchestra had died down a short while ago, and she could hear female voices approaching the door. Christine tucked the letter back into her suitcase before the door swung open.

Meg, who she could only assume walked in. Just like the other members from the corps de ballet, she was wearing a pale blue leotard and the white tights, but she had taken down her wavy blonde hair, which came down just past her chest, and held her flower crown in hand. Her eyes were a deep brown, like chocolate and her thinned lips turned to a bright smile when she saw Christine sitting on the bed.

Christine stood up and walked towards Meg, who squealed in delight. "Are you Christine? Maman told me all about you! And that gown looks stunning on you! It complements your hair beautifully!"

"It was a gift from my father…"

Meg's smile faded, something resembling pity crossed her features. "Maman informed me. I've never met him before, but I've heard about him and his music. I would've loved to see him perform".

Christine shook the feeling off and grabbed her hands. "Enough with the depressing mood. It's so nice to meet you, Meg, Madame Giry told me quite a bit about you as well. It is so nice to finally put a name to a face. I look forward to our friendship. Your mother told me she would take me on a tour, but she hasn't returned…" Christine trailed off.

Meg was quick to reassure her by saying "don't worry, Maman has a tendency to get carried away in her work. I can show you around if you'd prefer since it's been a while. Come on!" Christine was quickly led from the room.

"And finally, this is the chapel. It's always quiet down here and no one visits often, so it's doubtful you'll be interrupted whenever you come down here. We also keep a bin of candles in the corner over there, so you will never have to worry about buying your own. Matchsticks as well. And look here," Meg shuffled across the room to a stand where the candles were placed. "You can even put a picture of your mother and father in these slots".

The chapel was located on the lower level of the opera house, furthest away from the auditorium. And had a single glass window with an angel who had golden wings. Candelabra stands were placed strategically around the room to illuminate the ornate Heavenly art on the walls. Out of all the places she had been shown, this one made her feel most at ease.

She would have to dig around her suitcases to find a picture of her father.

"Would you like a moment?" She asked quietly.

Christine shook her head. "I'll come back later. I'm absolutely famished".

"As am I. They should still be serving supper. I heard that tonight they will be serving soup and fruits." A growl let loose from the ballerina's stomach and Christine laughed, leading the way back up to the dining hall.

Exiting the chapel, they were instantly pushing through a crowd of staff and cast, still in costume. Multiple people around them grasped bottles in their hands and shared the bottle with another next to them, taking a swig of whichever alcohol had been found for the night. Some groups had formed, one of them discussing a set piece that had broken on stage, causing one of the actors to fall forward.

Above them, white dust drifted down and landed on them, and the two darted across the hall, landing upon a line of people lined up with bowls in hand. Christine and Meg grabbed theirs from a nearby table and joined the line.

The room they stood in was better lit, and so the colors of the costumes others wore around them became more distinguishable. There was a myriad of colors, but the most common ones seemed to be yellow, red, and blue, and stripes could be found on almost every costume. Many wore hats, and others wore capes. Another even wore devil horns.

Christine had learned songs from operas growing up in a house of musical talent, but until this day she had never seen an actual opera.

"My father told me that your mother will be taking me under her wing to train me. What exactly will she be training me for?" They moved up in line and Meg's bowl was filled first, then hers.

Meg looked around for a table in another room, adding "You would be trained as a dancer like us. Maman and I arrived at the opera house weeks before the first opera took place after being built. Ever since I have been part of the corps de ballet. If it makes you feel any better, I had no experience dancing prior to this place. Maman is a great teacher".

Christine shook her head in agreement and they took a seat at a table near a window. Looking outside, she could see the lamp lights that lit up the streets, patrons taking their leave. Carriages came and went until everyone had disappeared.

Meg went to lift her spoon to her mouth when a shadow cast over them. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Christine turned to see a man standing in front of their table, swaying side to side. The man had brown shoulder-length tousled hair and a beard that wrapped around his face. He donned a simple pair of overalls over a red button-up. His eyes seemed to burn into Christine's, and she instinctively moved back in her seat away from the man. Attached to his overalls was a coil of rope, and her first assumption was that he was not one of the actors.

"Hey there ladies… Care for a drink? With me?" The man slurred. It was evident he had indulged too much in spirits.

"Screw off Buquet. Don't you have some other god-awful person to harass?" She retorted. The drunk man chuckled. He placed a hand down on the table between their bowls. Christine eyed Meg warily, unsure of what she should do.

The man shook his head and leaned closer in towards the table. "I'd preferably like to screw you, ballet rat. And you… You look new. I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that fair skin. Looking as you do in that red dress. How could anyone resist a woman in a dress such as that?"

That comment sent Meg shooting up out of her seat, preparing to shove him away when he was dragged back by Madame Giry, who slapped him with a decent amount of force that left an instant print on his flushed cheek. She raised her cane and swatted him on the back.

"Stay away from my girls, is that understood? Leave now, or face more consequences. The managers shall be hearing about this".

"Monsieur LeFevre isn't good for anything here", he spat at her.

"Or simply just leave a note in box five. Maybe he could solve our problems". Meg chirped, an evil grin crept upon her soft features. Her mother sharply spun her head to glare at her, silencing any further comment from being made.

The man, Buquet, suddenly paled, stumbling away from them and out of the room. Once out of sight, the Madame sighed but kept her posture straight. She moved her cane to stand in front of her.

Christine's stomach growled, but she no longer felt hungry. She felt sick to her stomach but pushed it to the side. "Who was that man?" She made a mental note to avoid him at all times. If he was this horrible of a human being drunk, she couldn't imagine what capabilities he would have sober.

"Joseph Buquet, chief of the flies, a stagehand. A waste of a human being with a sick obsession for pretty young women. I'm sure this experience has shown you to avoid him". Meg's face was red in humiliation, but with a few deep breaths, she seemed calmer.

All they could do was nod, and the Madame spoke. "I apologize for not returning sooner, my dear. On top of other business, there was an incident with a broken prop on stage, injuring one of the actors. I trust Meg has shown you around, and your suitcases were delivered to your room?"

"Yes, Madame. Meg told me I am to train in the corps de ballet with her?" Christine questioned, and she was quick to reply.

"Tonight, we celebrate. We will receive the script tomorrow and begin rehearsals the following day. You must be fitted for a leotard. Bring your measurements to the tailor, and you will have an outfit to rehearse in for practice. We begin exactly at nine in the morning and practice until six. Is there anything you require before retiring to the dormitories?"

Christine nodded. "I have an urgent letter from my father. It is in the dorm. I shall bring it to you.." Christine began, but the older woman was already on her way.

The two girls shared a look at each other before grabbing their bowls and disposing of them on a counter in the kitchen, trailing behind her.

"So I see. Not to worry. I will make the necessary arrangements and inform you when I have information on the contents. It is in good hands, my dear. I keep a safe in my office, so if you ever wish to look it over, please let me know".

"Thank you Madame Giry, I appreciate it more than you could possibly know".

Tucking the letter into her vest, she made her exit, leaving them alone in the room. Meg all but collapsed onto her bed and placed a pillow over her face, letting loose a muffled scream, to which she had said "I hate that vile man! What a pervert!"

Christine pulled a shift from a suitcase and changed in the bathroom, where she found Meg already out of her costume and corset, which had been disposed of on the floor beside her bed along with her flower crown. The comforter was brought up to right below her chin and her face buried back into the pillow.

She lifted her head languidly. "Sorry, I have a habit of making messes. My muscles are so weary I feel as if I could lay here for the rest of my life!" She exaggerated, pounding her hands out at her side on the bed.

Christine's lips turned upwards as she pulled back the covers and crept underneath. The sheets were soft and welcoming, and sleep called to her, but one comment stood out in her mind, and her curiosity got the best of her.

"Meg, what did you mean by leaving a note in box five? Is that how everyone receives their post?" Christine startled up in her bed when Meg was across the room sitting on her bed in a flash. She was suddenly thankful that none of them had yet blown out the candle on the nightstand.

"The Phantom of the Opera is a ghost who has haunted this theater since the day everyone arrived. He demands 20,000 francs a month from the manager, Monsieur LeFevre. He demands that box five is kept empty for his use and he corresponds posts with a wax seal in the image of a skull".

Christine tilted her head sideways in thought. "Extortion methods, but what does a phantom need with 20,000 francs? Ghosts cannot use money". Meg held up a hand so she could finish the story.

"According to legends, his face looks like death, like the dead have risen to life from the grave and he lives within the shadows of the theater. Maman corresponds his notes to the manager. He has yet to be seen since. But Maman refuses to tell me anything. She seems to enjoy brushing me off, but I know she is hiding something". Meg finally released a long breath and Christine swears to herself that while telling the story, she hadn't blinked once.

'An opera ghost? Living beneath the theater? That cannot be possible. As Meg said, parts of it were just a legend'. Christine looked up to see Meg sitting antsy at the edge of her bed as if waiting for her to respond.

"Is there any other proof that he exists? Or is it just the notes?"

Meg sighed. "It's just the notes".

Seeing the disappointment in her eyes, she decided she would bite, just this once. "Well if you trust in this opera ghost enough. We should leave a note for him in box five, surely he shall protect us". Christine's suggestion sent Meg back to the other side of the room, reaching for a box on a shelf above her bed, revealing a collection of stationery.

"Shall we write one together then? You'll certainly believe in him if you see his notes. I can prove it here and now that I do not have a wax seal with a skull". Meg brought the box over and to her amusement, she did not have the said wax seal.

"Let us write a letter to our friendly neighborhood opera ghost then". Meg pulled a bottle out from under her bed, and the two shared mischievous grins. Drinking was something Christine's father allowed her a sip of on holidays, but as he had told her, have fun, but do it safely.

"All right, how should we write this?"

The two stayed awake for half the night sharing stories and quietly laughing. Not quiet enough it seemed when one of the other ballet girls knocked on their door and told them to keep it down. They both eventually fell asleep on Christine's bed with the stationary set scattered around them.

When they awoke in the morning, they read the letter together, reviewing for any misspellings.

Dear Opera Ghost.

Joseph Buquet has become a pain in the ass, well is and had been. Would you kindly find a way to get him fired since Maman (Madame Giry) has not yet managed to. I fear that he will make another attempt on one of us, should he continue to be let off the hook.

Madame Giry cares more for the staff than Monsieur LeFevre. If there is any way you could somehow… frighten him into doing better towards us, it would be greatly appreciated.

Also, if you would so kindly send a reply, it would be decent evidence to show my newest friend that you do, in fact, exist. Whether you do or not, I shall prove to her that you are, in fact, real.

Your friendly neighborhood CDBM (corps de ballet members),

Meg Giry & Christine Daaé

"Gods Meg, this note was clearly written by two intoxicated women. I don't think we should send this".

Meg snorted. "That's because it was written by two intoxicated women. If you don't think we should send this, does this mean that you finally believe in him?" She pried, an eyebrow raised and her foot tapping patiently on the floor.

"Not one bit. I find it extremely hard to believe that this theater is haunted by some specter", Christine retorted sharply.

"You believe in angels though, right? So why not just at least entertain the idea of a ghost", Meg pleaded from the bedroom, picking up the costume she had left on the floor.

Christine sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. No matter how much she tried to cover them, the dark circles under her eyes wouldn't seem to go away. She made a mental note to herself to never drink with Meg again. "I can entertain the idea, but it's hard for me to believe in something I have witnessed".

Out of the few casual dresses she had purchased, she decided on a deep blue dress embroidered with white and champagne flowers. The sleeves came down right before her elbow, and the ends of the sleeves were laced with large ruffles. At the top of the bodice sat a neatly tied ribbon a few shades darker than the actual dress.

Meg, on the other hand, had simply tossed on a mauve button-up bustle dress, detailed with gothic black beading on the trim of the skirt. Christine wouldn't say it out loud, but she looked exactly like her mother. The conventional dress strongly resembled the one Madame Giry had worn just yesterday, save for the color.

Pouring candle wax onto the envelope, Meg sealed it, revealing the initials MG. Drying quickly, she handed Christine the letter, who tucked it secretively into a layer of her dress. The two made their way down the grand foyer.

Not one person had been seen since they had left their room, and Christine began to feel on edge. "Do you know where exactly in box five you have to put it? Your mother will catch us if she finds out!"

Meg brushed it off, but there was a noticeable quicken in her step. "Maman will not catch us. She visits the markets at dawn before rehearsals. But we do not begin until tomorrow, so she should be out longer than usual". Meg made a sharp right, leading them up a corridor.

At the end of the hallway sat the wooden door, a gold nameplate attached, engraved Loge Du Fantôme De L'Opéra.

Meg stiffly went to grab the doorknob when she released a quiet gasp. "They changed it. It was but a week ago that this door had a doorknob". Christine moved beside her to see that in fact, there was no doorknob, and was instead replaced with a lock mechanism. "We would need to find the key. Maman must have it for sure!"

Christine took the letter from its hiding spot and swiftly slid it under the door and Meg balked at her, adding "It has to go in a slot, Maman will see it if we just leave it there!"

"If the "Phantom of the Opera" is truly watching, he will be well aware that he has a note waiting for him. Give him a little credit, Meg". Christine crossed her arms over her chest, and Meg was quick to put a confident expression on.

"You're right. The Phantom must be coming to collect it as we speak. We must hurry away should he decide not to come if we are too close". They spun on their heels and darted down the hallway, pausing at each corridor to ensure no person was aware of what they had done.

But once in the clear, the two shared breathless laughter.

In the shadows of the dark auditorium, a gloved hand reached for the envelope that had not made it into the slot, and pulled it into the dark, leaving no trace that anyone had been there.

Hi, lovelies! Some of my characters may seem OC, but I wanted to give them a more realistic personality. Christine and Meg are both 16 at this time, and I wanted to give them the rebellious feelings many other 16 years old's would have.

Gustave's letter to Christine was based on a letter my mother gave me when I moved halfway across the country to study, and it is clear is that in all adaptations of Phantom of The Opera, Christine's father was the most important figure in her life, and I wanted her to be well aware of how much he loves her, even after his death. Until next time!

Your Obedient Servant-

Emma51020