Not long after Nadir's arrival, Camilla, Peter, and their children arrived at the Chateau. Christine greeted them in a fresh dress, and was a charming host, offering everyone drinks in the courtyard as the afternoon sunlight faded. The adult members of the group made small talk about the garden and discussed the latest gossip from the village as Juliette and Antoine raced around on the lawn, harassing the chickens and making roaring and whooshing noises to accompany their twin model aeroplane toys.

"Christine, look! I made it myself!" Antoine said, his dimples showing in his chubby face.

"You did? Wow! Did you paint it red and everything?"

"Yes! All by myself!"

"That's not true." Juliette said huffily to her brother. "I helped you paint the wings."

"And it can really fly?"

"Yes – look!" Antoine proceeded to jump higher and higher, even climbing up onto the outdoor dining table to reach new heights, at which point Christine, laughing, grabbed him around the waist and swung him and the red plane back down to earth.

"She is so good with them." Camilla said to Raoul as they watched Christine play with the children.

"Christine's always been maternal." Raoul said fondly. "Even back when we were children ourselves, she would always be the one looking after the babies."

"Yes, Christine mentioned you'd known each other since you were young." Peter said. "How did you meet?"

"Well… Christine's father worked for my father."

"In business?"

"Not exactly…" Raoul said, as Christine removed herself from the children's game, and re-joined the conversation.

"Papa was a gardener at Raoul's parents' estate." Christine said, smiling faintly, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Raoul coughed in discomfort.

"Oh." Camilla said in surprise. "I didn't realise… "

"That I was of humble origin?" Christine said, smiling, mocking herself slightly. "Well, I am. Erik too, actually…at least, I think. He doesn't like to talk about his past. But I'm fairly sure Raoul is the only real blueblood amongst us."

"Of course, it doesn't matter, though, does it?" Peter said cheerfully. "It's what you do with your life that matters. How hard you are willing to work. You and Erik are obvious proof of that. A West-End star and a renowned composer."

"It's been a while since I was a star, if I was one." Christine laughed, glancing away momentarily as the door joining the courtyard to the house opened and Nadir and Erik stepped through to join them. "Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed up the whole thing."

"You certainly didn't!" Raoul said. "If only you could have seen her perform, at her height." He added to Peter and Camilla. "I wish I'd gone to more of your shows, Chris. I think I thought you would have a longer…"

"Career?" Christine offered wryly.

"Well, everything does change after marriage, doesn't it dear." Camilla said. "One begins to have different priorities."

"It doesn't have to change." Interjected Erik. "There are plenty of producers who keep pestering me, trying to get me to persuade her to go back!"

Christine smiled faintly.

"We might still go back to London yet." Erik added.

"Well, we'll be sad to lose you." Peter said. "But we'd love to watch you perform on a real stage someday. We'll have to bring the children up to London to see you!"

"But we might just stay." Christine said, looking up at her husband with a half-smile.

"You said yourself not two days ago that you missed performing." Erik said, tilting his head to look at his wife.

"I do miss it sometimes." Christine said. "Parts of it. The thrill, the anticipation. The sense that I was master of this instrument…my voice. But there were less glamorous things too. The long nights, the exhaustion, not to mention Erik and I being in the papers all the time. The tabloids could be brutal. Honestly, the honeymoon was a relief after that crazy period of our lives. At last, we were alone."

"There's nothing like a honeymoon." Camilla said dreamily. "I remember our so clearly, don't you Peter? Those long nights in Italy…ah, to be young again, and newly in love."

"What about you, Mr de Chagny?" Peter asked. "Any special ladies in your life?"

Raoul tensed. "Ah…no. Not at the moment."

Camilla and Peter exchanged smiling glances.

"Well, we can change that…there are some pretty young girls in the village!"

"I'm sure Raoul doesn't need us to play matchmaker." Christine said with a strained smile.

Raoul laughed uncomfortably. "I think it's best I'm alone … for quite a while. I was engaged, very recently, but it didn't end very well."

"I'm sorry to hear that, old chap." Peter said. "But you know what they say – the best way to get over a woman, is to find another one!"

Christine pulled Raoul to the side, shortly after that.

"I'm sorry about that." Christine said. "I didn't mean for the conversation to head that way. I know it's all still so fresh. And I know you made me promise not to bring it up. But please let me know if you do want to talk about…any of it."

"It's ok, Chris. I meant what I said in my letters. I want to just pretend none of that ever happened."

Christine squeezed his arm in solidarity, giving him a sad smile.

When dinner was ready, they moved into the dining hall, where a three-course meal was served to the adults while Juliette and Antoine dined on the balcony, accompanied by a servant.

Then, after dinner, the group moved into the drawing room, and Christine put the record player on. The machine started to spin, softly playing Sweet Georgia Brown to provide some light-hearted background music to the chatter. Raoul allowed the familiar jazz number to relax him as the others talked, sinking back into the sofa.

"So, Raoul." Camilla said conspiratorially, jolting Raoul out of his reverie. He could see that her cheeks were flushed pink now from the large amounts of wine that had been served with dinner. "You must tell us what it was like, knowing Christine and Erik before they were married. I'm determined to know the gossip…"

Raoul chuckled warily and took a deep gulp of wine. Erik had ignored his existence for the entirety of the evening thus far, speaking at length to every person in the room but himself, which suited both parties immensely. He wasn't particularly keen to draw attention to himself now.

"Well…I can't say I was all that familiar with Professor Destler before he became involved with Christine." Raoul said uncomfortably "He only taught senior classes, and I majored in clarinet, not voice."

"But Christine said you were a budding composer?"

"Yes – and I studied composition in my post-graduate year. But that was after Christine had left Cambridge. And Professor Destler wasn't teaching any more at that time. They were both working on the West End."

"Ah, I see."

"Clarinet, you say?" Peter said, his ears pricking up. "Did you bring your instrument? Three musicians in the room – we'd love to hear a trio!"

"I didn't." Raoul admitted. "I packed rather hastily for this journey, and I didn't know how long I'd be staying."

"Until the party at least, surely?" Camilla said.

"I … I'm not sure." Raoul said hesitantly, looking determinedly anywhere but at Erik.

"Definitely." Christine said firmly.

"Well, that's rather a bore, we were hoping for gossip and a performance, and you've provided neither!" Camilla exclaimed, then tilting her head to smile at Raoul, added. "It's a good thing you're so handsome."

Raoul choked on the sip of wine he had just swallowed, which caused a ripple of laughter around the room. "I can only apologise." He managed to splutter, as Peter thumped him several times on the back, scolding his wife jovially for embarrassing the boy.

"You must be able to tell us something, though?" Camilla pressed. "Go on…just a titbit. Gossip is a precious commodity in a village as small as this, Raoul, it would be very mean of you indeed to hold anything back!"

"Mr de Changy is perhaps wise to hold his tongue." Erik said from a corner of the room. "…especially when he remembers whose house he currently lodges in."

This earned a ripple of laughter from the room, but Raoul didn't need to look at the Erik's face to know the comment was not wholly a joke.

All eyes in the room were trained on Raoul, and he cast around to find something benign to satisfy Camilla.

"Well…I did get the impression that when they first met, Christine and Professor Destler didn't see entirely eye to eye…on everything."

Christine chuckled softly. "He's right. We did sort of hate each other, at first."

"Christine disliked me." Erik corrected. "The feeling was not mutual."

"But you won her over in the end, good man!" Peter said, raising his glass to Erik jovially.

"And how did you manage that, Erik?" Nadir said. "With your charm and good nature?"

Raoul started to laugh with the room, but catching Erik's unamused eye, hastily went on. "Well actually, Professor Destler had quite a formidable reputation on campus. For his musicianship, of course, but also for his Victoria Cross."

"Nothing like a hero's medal to soften up a lady, right Christine?" Peter said, chuckling. Christine smiled politely.

Mention of the cross started up a long discussion about the war, dominated mostly by Peter, as Camilla went to put her children to bed in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs, agreeing with Christine that they should stay the night and be collected in the morning. She warned Christine with a laugh that recently little Antoine had developed a tendency to sleepwalk, and she hoped he wouldn't be any trouble.

Christine went to fetch more wine and refilled everyone's glasses, and Raoul felt his head start to swim, watching the cheeks of each member of the room turn even rosier.

As they spoke, Raoul and Peter discovered that both Raoul's brother Phillipe, and Peter's cousin, had been in the Royal Navy, 6th Battalion. Peter exclaimed he would be honoured to meet the fellow and exchange stories.

"You can't sir – unfortunately he was killed."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, young man."

The conversation moved swiftly on then, to more cheerful topics, including Erik's latest commission.

"It's so wonderful to hear you are composing again, Erik." Peter said.

"Indeed, my hiatus was longer than anticipated." Erik said. "I don't believe Christine and I had intended to honeymoon for quite so long. But… the latest work is coming along well."

"We'd love to hear a sneak peek!" Camilla said.

"There is a short soprano aria in the second movement that is nearly complete, if Christine feels her sight-reading is up to it."

Christine agreed, and the individuals in the room chatted amongst themselves as Christine and Erik busied themselves at the piano.

Raoul found his eyes drawn to them as they worked. Erik sat on the black leather piano stool with his back to the room as Christine leant over him, nodding, as he quietly explained the segment of handwritten music to her, humming the melody under his breath and clicking his fingers to show her the complicated time signature. When they appeared done, she rested her small white hand on his shoulder, and squeezed.

"Alright." Christine said, smiling, after several minutes. "We're ready."

The room fell silent as Erik began to play several opening bars of an enchanting composition, a pleasant union of classical and jazz. Erik looked up at his wife and nodded, bringing her in at her cue.

Then Christine opened her mouth and started to sing. Her soprano voice was high, sweet and clear. As she sang, the melody unfurled itself, and Raoul found himself struck as if physically, by the beautiful simplicity of it, ringing clearly over the complex harmonies of the accompaniment. Raoul found his emotions wrenched from sadness, to longing, to hope, as Erik, like an expert puppeteer, pulled at all of the audience's emotional strings.

But Raoul's heart also clenched with an entirely unintended emotion as he listened – a hot envy wrenching in his chest. He couldn't see himself ever composing something like that, not in a hundred years of trying. And Erik had apparently come up with this, effortlessly, just this afternoon.

As the melody came to a halt and Erik played the last few bars of the coda, the room suddenly felt very quiet.

"Erik…" Camilla whispered. "I hardly have words. That was lovely, just lovely. My goodness, I don't think I've ever heard anything so beautiful."

"I couldn't agree more." Peter said. "And Christine! You really are depriving the West End. I don't know what you're doing here in the middle-of-nowheresville, France…"

"That's what I keep telling her." Erik said softly, looking at his wife, who returned his smile. Then to Nadir in a different tone of voice he said, "Still concerned, Nadir?"

"I hardly think I need further inflate your ego, Erik." Nadir said drily, as Erik laughed. "Surely, you've received enough praise tonight. And it's the other three movements I'm concerned about…namely, their present failure to exist…"

Erik waved this away. "They are developing well."

Peter chuckled. "I suppose a bit of arrogance is warranted. Heavens knows I'd be arrogant if I was that talented. What do you think Raoul? As a composer yourself?"

Erik looked at Raoul with amused irony. "Indeed." He said sardonically. "What words of wisdom does Mr de Chagny have for me?"

"Erik." Christine scolded, as Raoul reddened.

"I…of course it's not my place…I mean, that was beautiful." Raoul said, flustered.

"What an insightful critique." Erik drawled. "Four years of a Cambridge music education surely wasn't wasted on you."

"Oho!" Peter cried jovially, as Christine snapped again at Erik. Peter and Camilla criticised the masked composer for being so harsh, but seemed to be enjoying the sport.

"You're not going to let him get away with that, are you Raoul?" Camilla said, her eyes sparkling. "You'd better show him up, with one of your own compositions!"

Raoul, who could think of few worse fates at that moment than being bullied into performing a half-baked composition in front of a master of the craft who happened to also have a personal vendetta against himself, found himself desperately wishing, not for the first time, that he had never come at all to the Chateau des Lavandes.

"No…I don't think so." Raoul said, reddening. "I could hardly follow that performance."

"Come now!" Peter said. "If you want any success, you're going to have to be willing to share what you've composed. Plus, Erik could help you succeed."

"Raoul, you really don't have to." Christine said, which, while well-meaning, did little for Raoul's confidence.

"Nonsense." Erik said, his eyes flashing nastily. "I'd be very interested indeed to see what the boy is capable of."

After several more minutes of pressure, Raoul found himself venturing unwillingly upstairs to fetch a manuscript from his suitcase, then sitting unwillingly at Erik's place at the piano. The leather piano stool felt cold and unfamiliar, not at all warmed by Erik's recent body heat.

The piece was a relatively new composition, a piano rhapsody which tried to emulate the feeling of London in Autumn. He had been previously proud of the work, it was probably his best, but as he started to play, he cringed at it. Piano was his second instrument, and he didn't have anything near Erik's technical skill. As for the composition itself, though pretty, there was nothing on Earth Raoul could possibly have played that would have not seemed bland and amateurish in the shadow of Erik's work.

Raoul finished with a sigh, and a growing sense of humiliation, but to his surprise as the final notes faded into silence, the gathering erupted into a moderate applause. Nothing like the reception Erik's piece had garnered, but not the awkward silence Raoul had been envisioning, either.

Raoul surveyed the rosy cheeks around him and felt himself feeling rather grateful for the probable effects of the wine.

"Well! See! You had nothing to worry about." Camilla said kindly. "That was very pretty."

"And do remember," Nadir added. "Erik has ten years on you."

"Well, Erik?" Peter said with a grin, winking at Raoul. "Is there a future for him?"

Raoul's eyes flickered to the masked man's. He appeared somewhat taken aback.

It was better than he was expecting, Raoul intuited, with a strange thrill of perverse satisfaction.

Erik pressed his thin lips together, and surveyed Raoul with an expression he couldn't read.

"Come now, Erik!" Peter said. "A few kind words from the master composer are just what the boy needs for his confidence!"

"Would you like me to be kind, Mr de Chagny?" Erik said coolly, after a moment. "By all means, I can lather you with compliments. But you'll never improve."

A flash of indignation rose in Raoul's chest. He hadn't wanted to perform the stupid song. It wasn't his fault he hadn't crashed and burned as Erik had evidently wished him to.

"No, sir." Raoul said, looking at Erik with his chin firm. "You can tell the truth."

"Erik." Christine warned. Her eyes flickered between Raoul's and Erik's uneasily.

"He asked for the truth." Erik purred at his wife, his eyes glinting. "I would be remiss not to oblige."

"There's a difference between being honest and being horrible." Christine said. "Your early critiques of my voice nearly made me want to quit singing altogether."

"And look where that voice is today." Erik said, tilting his head to look at Christine. She frowned but said nothing.

"Well, Mr de Chagny." Erik said, his eyes back on Raoul's. For all his indignation, Raoul couldn't help feeling like a deer, frozen, and at the mercy of a circling lion.

"You have mastered the technical understanding of composition, and I commend you for that. Many students never do. And if you want to write etudes for students – fine. You would do well. But if you want to be commercially successful, as my wife informs me that you do." Erik glanced to Christine, whose face was stony and cautious. "Then you must give your piece a soul. This piece lacks feeling, it lacks imagination. Tell me, who is Raoul de Chagny? What does he feel? There is no individual behind the technicalities. You cannot hide, in creative ventures. You must bare your soul. Tell me, what is this piece about?"

"It's about…Autumn in London." Raoul said, trying to keep his voice even, as to avoid revealing to the hushed onlookers how acutely Erik's words stung.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"It's not particularly strong, as far as subject matter goes." He said bluntly. "Here's my advice, chose the event from your life that has caused you the most emotional upset. And write about that. A painful experience, always, but a fruitful one."

Raoul remained silent. His jaw felt like it had snapped closed, like a broken metal spring.

"There must be something." Erik said. "Or perhaps the privileged life of an aristocrat's son doesn't lend itself to anything remotely approaching hardship."

"Erik." Christine said in warning. Erik's eyes flickered to his wife, but quickly returned to Raoul's.

"Yes." Raoul said begrudgingly, at last. "There is something."

"Good. Use it."

"I prefer not to think about it." Raoul said suddenly. Anger, hot and prickling appeared to be creeping up his neck. "Let alone write about it."

"That, there." Erik said, a finger pointed at Raoul. "That is what is stunting you."

There was a very long pause.

"Tell me, Mr de Chagny, why do we love music?" Erik asked suddenly.

"Um…" Raoul said slowly, trying to think back to his early musical theory classes through the fog of discomfort. "Music is organised sound." He recalled from somewhere. "It's… an assortment of mathematical patterns… intervals, chord arrangements. We have evolved, probably when early humans listened to birdsong, to find certain musical patterns beautiful. We want to experience beauty, in auditory form."

Erik surveyed him strangely. "No." He said. "We love music because it makes us feel."

Erik gestured towards the piano. "Try again." He said. "Make me feel something."