Author's Note: Chapter Originally Posted on Ao3, Dec 25th, 2023

Expectations of the Era

Christine lay on the divan in her dressing room during the break from rehearsal, idly staring at the white crown molding where the wall met ceiling. None of the clean lines of transition registered in her mind, a mere focal point to comfortably rest her eyes while her mind wandered, as it always did. Of course, the one person who appreciated her capacity to ponder was also the one who occupied her foremost thoughts.

Erik.

Their morning started out so smoothly and transformed into something of a mystery, such that she struggled to decipher all the subtle tones of that moment at his door. It was a riddle, horrible in its nuances of little inflections of his voice and manner. What she knew with absolute certainty, was where the conversation took its dreadful turn.

Raoul.

She knew Erik had a strong dislike of her old friend, though she had little idea of just why. At least, until this morning.

Raoul was wealthy, handsome, and quite determined to court her.

Maybe, if the circumstances were different, Christine would find herself more pursuant to a coupling with Raoul. After all, he was the smarter choice for a proper woman like her. Rather, a better woman than her.

The only bit of power a woman truly had in the world was to marry well. Not just in love, but as a financial means to remain comfortable. There was little wealth or prosperity for a woman, outside of a suitable marriage. As it stood, any pre-marital job she possessed was to be left, in the care of home and family. Any wealth she brought into a marriage only added to the husband's fortunes. If that husband were to leave his wife, she could lose everything and be of lower standing than before the wedding. Thus, determining an appropriate husband meant everything. Who would be the best provider? Who would give the most stability? Raoul certainly had means in his favor.

Erik? She had no idea of his means or ability beyond the opera house. None of that mattered to her when he made her spirit leap and soar towards the heavens. But…by convention? He was a poor choice. His wealth was unknown. Stability was questionable at best, because of the prejudice his masks brought him. Then children? What woman, with so little going for her in many aspects apart from hopeful marriage and family, would wed a deformed man who may pass on his deformity to his children? The stigma of a deformed husband was bad enough, but to add children on top of that? Madness.

Then, I am mad… Christine thought as she ran a black ribbon through her fingers, from one of the flowers he had given her.

Erik had a jealous streak. He said as much. Yet, it did not strike her mind until now.

Raoul was the choice any sane woman would go for. The safe choice.

Erik was the extreme opposite.

These were facts that Erik plainly knew. That brilliant mind would shout it from the highest peaks without restraint.

Which is why he had wanted a marriage of companionship; if nothing else… The thought made her sigh while coiling the ribbon tight around a finger.

Declaring that she had a Suitor to Raoul was the easiest task.

Being heard, however, was the real challenge. One that Erik and most men seemed to have a hard time understanding, simply because they were men. They were the stronger sex that did not have to conform to the demands and expectations of someone naturally deemed greater than them.

"That's it!" Christine bolted upright with the declaration under her breath.

That was the moment things went off course. She sensed Erik's shift in moods, even before she assured him of her loyalty and love. In their press for time, there was more she wanted to tell him, but refrained. Detailing a woman's perspective of her predicament of handling Raoul, or any man wanting to become her suitor, was not a simple thing to convey— if it could even be conveyed at all.

Rather, Christine opted just to make her feelings about him clear.

Perhaps he sensed she had more on her mind…

Then, in the strangest of turns, his words of love to her were suddenly distant, and Erik regressed the conversation back to notes and meetings. It was almost like he erased the entire topic of Raoul and other suitors from his mind as if it never occurred.

That change was a shocking thing to witness, and wholly unexpected, to the point she possessed little idea how to react, short of going along with it as if nothing happened.

Although it did, and it plagued her thoughts now.

Before Christine could ponder this further and decide what she needed to do when she saw Erik next, she was startled by the brief, two-tap knock at her door before Raoul was suddenly in her dressing room.

"Raoul—"

"Christine!" he exclaimed with the one-sided enthusiasm of a child getting a sweet. "There you are! I beginning to believe that you really are the elusive Angel of Music, who only appears to me in my dreams," he grinned, tugging off his fine leather gloves one finger at a time. "I am glad I was mistaken, seeing as you are here now."

Christine gave an appeasing smile that was as empty as Carlotta's singing. That comparison turned her grin genuine when an image of Erik flashed through her mind, rather than the man who intruded upon her small sanctum, outside of the Giry house and her Suitor's home. Not that she had any intention of really keeping Raoul's company at that moment. Not when it roiled her nerves and stomach into awful knots.

"I am hardly the Angel of Music yet, Raoul. I have so much more still to learn and perfect," she murmured in earnest, against her growing discomfort.

"You've already caught the attention of Paris, and soon you will have them at your feet,"
he smiled with almost blinding charm. "I think you have gone as far as you can with this L'Chantseur fellow, so I've taken the liberty of inquiring about better tutors on your behalf. The best that France and Europe have to offer."

It took a long moment, and blinking several times, for Raoul's words to sink into her mind through the thick walls of shock.

Taking the liberty indeed. Why on God's green Earth would Raoul take this matter upon himself? Seeking out new tutors when she never aired a single complaint on her current arrangement? Erik more than suited her needs in all matters of music and learning. Though rather than speak her mind to its fullest extent beyond simple declination, Christine's hands began curling into fists amongst her skirts. "I already have the best teacher, and I've no wish to switch to someone else."

Raoul gave a long, drawn-out sigh as his eyes shot upward for only a quarter second. "If it is a matter of cost, I will gladly pay the fees. After what I've heard about what transpired at the rehearsals yesterday, I should think you would be relieved. The Garnier is hardly the venue for such crass behavior from a supposed instructor."

"He was asked his opinion," she whispered, smothering the inner flame that begged to swell in her breast. A temper would not serve her or Erik here. "While he may have been crass, the sincerity of his words was no less valid."

"Hardly someone worthy of being in your presence, no less. Regardless, Christine, I have been looking into this L'Chantseur fellow, and I find it alarming that he is a man who simply does not exist outside of this opera house. He is not in any public record. I fear he merely means to mislead you and take advantage of your virtue."

Christine sat in a solemn daze; her brow slightly quirked as she stared at a single rose in a slim glass flute. A gift from Erik. It was starting to wilt now. He had misled her before, in a blur of time that seemed like ages ago. Her virtue? Erik protected that, even as she was freely offering it for him to claim just last night.

As these thoughts swirled around her mind, the world threatened to spiral around her in equal measure as she sat there, unsure of what to say or do that would not betray her relationship or Erik's secrets – neither of which were simple to address without affecting one or the other.

"He is unworthy of my presence?" her voice remained trapped in a small and weak sotto voce, unsure of her own hearing now.

"Why yes!" he answered matter-of-factly, with his brows raising towards the heavens. "I see this nasty business is upsetting to you. Have no worry, Christine. I fully intend to impart the news to him myself, once we find you a replacement. You'll never need to see this, L'Chantseur, again," Raoul spat Erik's false name as though it was bile.

"You will do no such thing," Christine uttered, the embers of her spirit begging to be released to flame.

"Excuse me?"

"Monsieur L'Chantseur will remain my tutor."

"You can't be serious," Raoul breathed as though he struggled for words in response to the incredulousness of her resolve.

"L'Chantseur –the singing teacher– is a pseudonym that he wishes to be known as because he has concerns for his privacy." Justifiable concerns, though she dared not say that thought aloud. Even if the circumstances for that discretion differed between what was spoken and unspoken.

"If that is his pseudonym, what is his real name?"

Christine gave a marginal head shake, "It is not my place to tell you. To do so would be just as improper as your assumption of my need, or want, for a new tutor."

"Christine… be reasonable," he pleaded, a tightness lurking behind his words. "I worry for you and your safety."

"I thank you for your concerns. However, in regards to my tutor, I assure you that they are unfounded."

"I am merely trying to look out for you, The Girys are hardly enough in this day and age."

Christine's knuckles turned white in the folds of her skirt as she clutched them tighter while otherwise remaining rooted in place. It became a struggle to remain a properly mannered woman as Raoul pressed his presence into her life. At least opportunity was opened in his last remark, and she only hoped the aftermath would be mild.

A fleeting hope.

"My Suitor is more than capable of looking after me without your assistance," she spoke as quiet resolution settled within her spirit, in strange relief.

"Your…Suitor…?" he asked after a pause.

Christine rose from the divan, smoothing her skirts gracefully, although every other muscle felt rigid in her agitation. "Yes, my Suitor."

"When were you planning to tell me that you were in a courtship?" he asked, looking down at the gloves and brimmed hat he gripped with tense fingers.

"The offer to court me was made weeks ago, before Il Muto. I accepted that offer last night." It was true, in the sense that Erik had expressed a romantic interest after they negotiated her contract. While turbulence followed that moment, that unspoken notion of wishful courtship was enough for her to count it in Erik's favor.

"Weeks ago?" he asked softly, "You did not think to tell me sooner? Or that another was pursuing your hand?"

"I didn't think—" she began.

"—Didn't think?" he cut her off, although his tone equated hurt in the low huskiness of it. "That is putting it rather plainly, Christine. It was outright inconsiderate."

Her mouth snapped shut, and whether it was through anger, hurt, or a blooming storm of multiple emotions swirling around her spirit, tears sprung forth in her eyes. "That wasn't my intent—" she began, only to have Raoul turn away from her, shaking his head as he went for the door.

Christine jumped when the door slammed shut behind him, hot tears now flooding her cheeks. Her knees weakened as she sank to the floor and draped her arms over the cushion of the stylized sofa. Although she would rather have Erik there with her, burrowing her face into her arms would have to suffice.