Two Weeks – Chapter 17

"You have to let her go."

"What are you doing here?" Erik exclaims.

Their agreement is she only enters Box Five to pick up his notes and deliver the supplies he requests. If either of them wishes to communicate, the wooden louée* placard is removed. Adele would use her key to enter, retrieve his list from behind the gold framed mirror and return with whatever he asked for. Sufficient funds were always provided for the purchases, with a generous amount for her service.

During the past two weeks, the lists were longer with her shopping trips happening so frequently they interfered with her work. More significantly, her own anxiety about Christine grows with each day.

"Have you learned anything new?" Nadir asked her.

"About what?"

"Do not pretend to be obtuse," he chuckles, walking past her to the chair across from her desk, to take a seat."

"By all means, come in and make yourself at home," she says, closing the door of her office and walking to the armoire and the tea pot. "Tea?"

"That would be quite nice," he says. "And if you do not mind, seven cubes of sugar on the saucer…otherwise black."

"Only seven?" she smirks. "I seem to recall after your last visit the bowl was left half empty."

"I am trying to cut back." His tone cheerful.

"Well, I would wish to deprive you," she says, setting a small tray down with both their cups and a full bowl of the white crystalline cubes.

"So what is the word on our Don Juan?"

"He is hardly that," she sniffs. "More of a clumsy schoolboy. Why would you think him to be a Don Juan?"

"His opera," Nadir says, dipping a sugar cube into his tea before placing the treat into his mouth.

"He never mentioned an opera…although I suppose I am not surprised," she says, sipping from her own cup. "I often wonder how he spends his time. I worry at his being so alone and cut off from the world."

"I happened to find him working on it one day – quite a challenging piece…very discordant…especially when compared to the Western music performed here."

"Don Juan, you say?"

"Don Juan Triumphant."

"Well, I suppose we all have our fantasies."

"Do you suppose the girl…"

"I would suppose he would like her to sing an opera he wrote."

"He is a man."

"Yes. I know. I am not sure he knows," she says. "Not really. I get the sense he is courting her…all very proper."

"The Vicomte de Chagny is putting pressure on the police. My acquaintance at the Mairie contacted me asking if I knew anything about a kidnapping at the Palais Garnier."

"I see."

"This cannot continue," she says, patting the seat beside her. "Sit down."

"I am fine standing. I must return…there is supper to be made," he says, looking around for the items he requested she buy.

"Do not worry, I have everything you asked for…including the pickled herring," she says, unable to control the wrinkling of her finely shaped nose as she points to the basket next to her feet. "I daresay your taste in food has taken a number of new turns. In fact, your taste in any sort of food at all, I might add."

"There is nothing wrong with experimenting with different delicacies. Anything novel to excite my palate, such as it is, is fine. If it pleases my house guest, all the better," is his retort as tries to reach past her for the groceries.

Before he can lay his hand on the basket, however, she places her staff in his way. "I asked you to sit down."

"You told me to sit down," he says, straightening up, his arms folded across his chest, the visible eyebrow quirked.

"Will you sit down?" The tone conciliatory. "Please. I have no desire to spar with you."

"If doing so is necessary to take possession of the purchases you secured for me, I suppose it is a small thing to humor you," he replies, propping himself on the edge of the red velvet chair. "There. I am sitting. Now will you answer my question?"

"When you were just wandering about this place on your own, causing some occasional mischief…only calling upon me for occasional shopping trips, I was never bothered," she says. "I found you to be most charming and entertaining, especially when having a bit of fun first with Reyer and then the new managers who are even bigger fools."

"And now?"

"Christine is a young woman and free to choose her company, however, I am concerned she is not entirely with you of her own free will. For all her talent and working in the theater, she is still quite naïve...and innocent."

"You question my intentions?"

"Should I?"

"So you, too, think I kidnapped her?" Getting to his feet, he grabs the basket before she can block him. "Aha."

"Did you?"

"I persuaded her, yes. Kidnapped is a strong word." Setting the basket down where he can easily reach it, he returns to his chair. "What precisely do you wish to know? This cat and mouse is getting tiresome – I can only take so much with Isis who is a real cat and much better at playing the game."

"Very well. If she is not being held against her will, why is she not allowed to come to the theater to sing?" Adele asks. "Was not this entire business about teaching her to sing and to become Prima Donna?"

"She is not ready."

"She was certainly ready the night she disappeared," Adele retorts. "The entire audience believed her to be quite ready."

"True, but for them to accept her entirely…well, she needed…needs more training."

"I suspect there is more to your unwillingness to bring her back."

"What might that reason be, pray tell?"

"Raoul de Chagny."

"That foolish boy," he snaps. "You mean the perfect physical specimen who has everything but a brain?"

"As I suspected – you are quite smitten with her," she smirks. "You are jealous."

Waving off the accusation, he mutters, "We both know how these high and mighty nobles…or former nobles with their meaningless titles think about women in the opera."

"The Primas do quite well."

"Is that so? Then why is La Sorelli still waiting on the young vicomte's brother to engage her in marriage? She will not be dancing much longer," he challenges. "You of all people know how that works."

"That was quite unnecessary," she replies, brushing her hand against a flushed cheek.

"Cruelty can work both ways, my friend. You seem to be accusing me of taking advantage of her," Erik says. "However, I am sorry. You deserved better from your suitor…and from me."

Adele shakes her head and leans back into the chair to gaze up at the magnificent chandelier. "We both deserved better from life," she says finally. "I do not want to see you hurt. The vicomte is determined to find her and I cannot help but think he will wish to destroy you when he does."

"You truly believe he can do me harm?"

"He has spoken to your friend M. Khan. I overheard him speaking to the managers about calling in the police…and he has been visiting with Joseph Buquet," she tells him. "Not to mention how he has been hounding me and always seems to be around the opera house in one way or another. I am truly concerned as to where his activities might lead."

"All the more reason for me to protect Christine."

"All the more reason to allow her to tell him to go away…if that is her choice."

Pondering her words for a moment, he finally says, "I shall consider it. You may be correct about him. Mindless behavior."

"You should know about that."

"I thought we had gotten beyond insults."

"Tell me you thought things through when you took her from the dressing room after Hannibal and tell me I am misspeaking."

Sighing deeply, he shakes his head. "When he appeared…when I saw how happy she was to see him. All I could think of was how I would lose her friendship…her voice…hearing her sing. When I hear her sing, I am alive. She gives me life. Before he arrived, I was perfectly content keeping my distance."

"You had so little faith in her caring about you?"

"As an angel, I was perfectly perfect…as a man…well, you have eyes…the boy is as pretty as she is. Why would she want what is beneath this mask or this ravaged body? Plus the fact he is her age…a childhood love."

"So the answer is yes, you have little faith in her caring about you – and her character."

"That is not so," he argues. "She is quite a fine person. Kinder than I probably deserve."

"Then let her make the decision about her life." The dark eyes beseech him. Risking him pulling away, she rests her hand on his.

"You have given me much to think about," he says getting to his feet once again. Taking the basket he nods to her. "I suppose I should thank you, but I am not certain what you have offered is a gift."

Adele cannot help but laugh at his remark. "Ever the dour fatalist."

"Such has been my life," he replies. "Make certain you return the leased notice to the door. I should not wish returning here to find someone awaiting me unexpectedly."

"Oh, good, you are home." Christine looks up from setting the table, greeting him with a big smile. "I was beginning to worry something happened to you."

Home. She is please I am home. "Adele wished a word with me."

"Nothing serious I hope…she is well?"

"Yes, my dear, she is well," he replies. "She is concerned about you."

Christine cocks her head, motioning with her chin for him to continue.

"She believes you need to return to your life as it was before I brought you here."

Sitting down at the table, Christine toys with the silverware just placed next to the plates. "What did you say."

"I told her I would think about everything she said," he says, joining her at the table. "The table looks lovely."

"I was feeling quite anxious when you had not returned when expected so I began looking in drawers. I found the tablecloth and napkins and thought them quite pretty. The fruit bowl seemed a nice centerpiece."

"Do you want to leave here?" he asks.

With a deep sigh she looks down at her hands. "I would like to be able to sing on stage again and I would like to visit with my friends again." Lifting her eyes, she says, "I would like to feel the sun on my face again. If I had those things, I would still want to stay here…with you."

Releasing his bated breath, he lets out a small chuff of air, the relief flooding his body has him feeling weak. "Oh."

Rising from the table, she walks to the kitchen. "We can speak more about this later. I am hungry and want to see what you brought us for supper."

"Yes. Right. That sounds fine," he says, following her. "Meat pies…and some eclairs as a sweet for after our meal."

"Perfect."

"Perfect. Yes. Perfect indeed."

*leased