Chapter 20: Lost Songs and the Darkness of the Night
One, two, three, four... Meg started counting silently, trying to focus on the dancing. The other ballerinas were turning gracefully on the stage under her mother's watchful eye, every one of them fully aware that they only had a few days left before their performance during the upcoming ball on Saturday.
It had taken her mother a lot of time to persuade the managers to allow them to stage this short ballet as a part of the show during the party, so they all knew how important it was to make a good impression. It could be their chance to become a more essential part of the Opera Garnier again. And yet, Meg couldn't force her mind to obey.
Her thoughts went again to the previous evening, pointing out everything she had done wrong.
She shouldn't have pressed the issue so much. She shouldn't have raised her voice, nor let her frustration affect her words. And she definitely shouldn't have run away. Especially after she had flinched at Erik's unmasking and he had gotten all of it so terribly wrong.
Her heart constricted painfully. Meg misstepped slightly, quickly covering her mistake and synchronising with the rest of the group. Together, they glided forwards almost to the proscenium, then leapt in graceful movements, only to skittishly scatter around, following a change in the music.
A moment later, Meg froze alongside the rest of her colleagues, her back pressed to the bark of a scenography tree. Thanks to the ornaments on her costume and her make-up, she could barely be seen among the fake branches – just as was required from her role as a dryad.
The previous day, when she had finally gotten a hold of herself enough to return to the storage room, the Opera Ghost had no longer been there. The only evidence of their meeting had been her still lit lantern, waiting for her, and the festival script, lying on the floor where it must have fallen after being thrown against the wall. With a feeling of utter failure, she had taken both items and plunged in the labyrinth of the dark corridors, returning to the busier parts of the opera house.
Meg's eyes flitted towards the Foyer de la Danse, located at the back of the stage.
She doubted that Erik would come just to see the ballet group's training, but she desperately wished that he would visit his secret passage today. Last night, she had left him a note there, apologising and hoping he would give her another chance to talk, but so far she hadn't received any response. Part of her had briefly considered a visit to the underground, but angering the Phantom even more by invading his privacy without an invitation was a gamble she didn't dare take.
The melody changed once more. Meg moved a fraction of a second too late, scolding herself inwardly for losing concentration again. Her flowing dress spread beautifully as she pirouetted. The ballerina went to a difficult sequence of moves, starting with a grand jeté, then became petrified in an elegant open fourth position with one arm raised above her head, just as the last note sounded in the air.
"Well, I think that should be enough for today." Madame Giry's stern voice filled the room, bringing out a few relieved sighs. Meg exhaled too, brushing away a strand of hair that had plastered to her sweaty forehead. She usually didn't mind the practice much, but focusing was more than difficult today.
"Your dance of nymphs is not perfect yet, but we still have a few rehearsals before the big night, and I'm pleased with your progress." The ballet mistress honoured them with one of her rare, tight-lipped smiles. "You can go change now, girls. Have a nice rest and we'll see each other tomorrow at the same hour." She clapped her hands.
Returning hurried goodbyes, the dancers headed towards the shared changing room, the atmosphere of discipline loosening as soon as they were freed from Madame Giry's strict gaze. Their excited voices echoed down the corridor as they started to discuss to whom they had sent Valentine cards and how they were going to spend the rest of the evening.
Staying a little behind, Meg felt a tiny pang in her chest. Christine and Raoul were probably having a nice time too in Perros-Guirec, and she was really happy about it, but somehow it wasn't enough to chase the slight melancholy that had overcome her.
Biting her lip, the ballerina once again glanced towards the big mirror located in the Foyer de la Danse.
It was only Tuesday, but the opera house was already bustling with preparations for Saturday's ball, and she knew that they would become even more feverish in the next few days. With the technical and cleaning staff running everywhere till the late hours, sneaking out unnoticed anywhere would become practically impossible. It was also unlikely that Erik would risk meeting her or trying to send her a message in such conditions.
"Are all right, Meg?" A quiet voice startled her from her reverie.
With a twitch, Meg spun around to see Cecile Jammes standing a few steps away. On the girl's forehead was a frown.
Meg forced herself to smile.
"Sure, Cecile. I just got lost in my thoughts for a while. The ball is in just a few days, and I have to help Maman with some extra duties, because some of the administrative workers came down with a cold."
The girl sighed.
"I know the feeling. My masays that, with all the preparations in the kitchen and in the hall, they are going to have a lot of extra work too. Still, it's great that everyone from the corps will be able to take part in the ball again, isn't it?" Her face brightened as she bounced slightly on her heels. "Lucien will be able to come too." A blush rose to her cheeks, and she looked away for a few seconds.
"Anyway, I was wondering if, with all these preparations, will you still have time to help me with embroidering a handkerchief for his birthday, just as we talked about before? Pauline teased me that I was too scatter-brained for it, and… well, I'm afraid she was partially right." The younger ballerina winced a little. "Lucien gave me a beautiful wooden frame for my sixteenth at the beginning of the month, and I want to do something nice for him too."
Meg smiled. "I think I'll be able to help somehow, Cecile."
The corners of Cecile's mouth rose again, and she made an excited leap, enclosing Meg in her arms.
"Thank you, thank you, Meg! I'll do my best not to take too much of your time. Tomorrow, after the rehearsal?" The teenager pulled away, to glance at Meg, and she nodded.
Cecile brightened again. "Thank you. See you tomorrow, then." Then, with a parting wave, she turned and vanished in the wings, passing by Ubaldo Piangi, who was encircling Carlotta's waist with one arm and holding an enormous bouquet of red roses with the other. Both the lead tenor and the lead soprano looked slightly dishevelled and flushed, and they were smiling at each other fervently.
The stagehands rushed on stage, hurriedly clearing away the props. Meg stood aside, letting them all pass. She tried to keep a lightsome expression, but then her mother joined her, and she was not fooled so easily.
"You were a bit distracted, Meg."
It was more of a statement than a reproach, but Meg couldn't stop a prick of guilt.
"I'm sorry."
The ballet mistress sighed. "You don't have to apologise, child. If I thought you didn't dance well enough, I would have said so during the training." Her usually strict features softened, and she placed one hand on her daughter's arm as she said more quietly, "You've done a lot of good already. He probably just needs some time…"
Meg nodded in response, even though she wasn't so sure. She had told her Maman about her disagreement with the Opera Ghost, but it was not like her mother had witnessed it.
Antoinette Giry cleared her throat.
"Anyway, I thought that after you change, we could deal with the rest of the paperwork. Then we could have a nice dinner together." She smiled slightly, and Meg did her best to return the gesture. It was not like her to be upset, after all, was it?
The dancer quickly got refreshed and changed in the shared dressing room, then joined her mother in her office, where a pile of supply and organisation papers already waited for them.
Meg took her seat and glanced through the window. In the dark sky of the winter evening, thick clouds moved, revealing a thin, waning silver crescent, only to conceal it a moment later. The sight of the night landscape always calmed her, but for some reason, today it filled her with a strange sadness.
Christine sat before the fireplace in the inn's common room, watching the soothing dance of flames. Her head was resting slightly on Raoul's shoulder, and she thought she couldn't have been happier.
They had arrived in Perros in the late evening of the day before. The weather here was usually much more mild, but to her joy, they had been welcomed by the picturesque view of a snow-covered landscape. On the train, Christine had taken even more of a liking to their hosts and their two daughters; nevertheless, she couldn't have been more excited when, at breakfast, Raoul had announced that the rest of the day would be spent as just the two of them.
Raoul had suggested that they visit all the places they could remember from their childhood, and though it brought a tiny pang of pain in her chest, she felt she needed to do it. And so, right after the meal, tucked in their warm clothes and – in her case – her old red scarf that had made the aristocrat's smile even wider, they had set off for a sleigh ride as well as a journey to the past.
They started from the beach on which she had played with Raoul and her father, and then they rode to the town where they used to go to ask for legends. There, they took a short break to drink something hot, and next went for a stroll to the park and the tiny concert shell on which podium her father used to play for vacationers.
It had been strange to see these places, frozen under a cover of snow and ice, while she still remembered them bursting with life and warm laughter. It had all brought a lot of old memories resounding in her mind along with long lost melodies, filling her with nostalgia. She hadn't been able to stop the tears, but somehow as they had flowed and she had buried herself in Raoul's embrace, she'd felt strangely lighter. Furthermore, Raoul kept reminding her of their wildest antics, and in the end, she couldn't help but giggle with him when he made funny faces and gesticulated in an exaggerated way.
The distant songs slowly changed to happier ones, merging with new ones.
Part of her still missed the long-gone days a little, but she also enjoyed the present. And what was more, she knew that she was not alone.
Their trip had ended with a delicious dinner in the "Setting Sun" inn where she and her father had usually stayed. And so, here she was now – warmed up and seated safely right beside her beloved, inhaling the calming smell of his cologne.
Her eyelids began to droop, but at that same moment, she felt a slight nudge.
"An escape into Morpheus's embrace instead of cherishing my company? You are truly wounding my pride, Little Lotte." Glancing down, Raoul raised his eyebrow at her in a teasing manner, but his fake offended expression was ruined by the smile tugging at his mouth.
A corner of her own lips curled up a bit too.
"It was a wonderful day, Raoul," she said softly.
"Indeed it was," Raoul agreed tenderly. "After all, despite the fact that you have just almost fallen asleep in my presence, I'm still your favourite viscount, am I not?" A roguish glint returned to his gaze.
This time, Christine couldn't help but laugh.
"Raoul, you are the only viscount I really know," she pointed out, trying hard to send him a rebuking glare and failing miserably.
Raoul's grin only widened.
"Well, that doesn't change my point, does it?" he replied with a good-humoured nonchalance that was so much his that she smiled wider too.
The aristocrat winked at her.
"And now, since I've finally gotten your attention back, maybe we could move to the last point of the day and go for a walk to the seashore? We can't miss our chance to see the Korrigans dancing in the moonlight, can we?" His vivid blue eyes gleamed as he bent towards her.
He was so close that Christine felt his breath brush her cheeks. She blushed.
"Almost like in the old days, then?" A hint of wistfulness tinged her whisper as she averted her gaze.
"Almost…" A pinch of seriousness slipped into Raoul's voice too. "And yet, at the same time completely different." He straightened and smiled at her as she glanced back at him. "Anyway, I think we had better set off now if we don't want to miss the whole sunset." He rose from his seat, offering her his hand.
A few minutes later, they left the warm interior, wrapped back up in their thick coats and armed in a lantern to light their way.
Dusk had already begun to fall, shrouding everything with long shadows. They didn't look inviting, but somehow, Christine had the impression that she and Raoul could find the right direction even blindfolded, in spite of all the years that had passed.
After a short walk through a small pine forest, they reached the main path leading to their usual viewpoint. Soon afterwards, a more distinctive sound of waves and wind reached their ears. Welcomed by the salty scent of the sea carried by a cold breeze, they stepped out of the more densely growing trees. And that was when she realised why the woods seemed strangely brighter.
It was the lights. Dozens of lights just outside the thicker tree line.
Christine's eyes widened as she took in the scenery before them.
Their whole route was lit up by carefully placed lanterns, casting soft aureate circles on the sparkling snow and rocks. Each one of these points was adorned with a few blooming red roses.
With a pang, it reminded her that today was, after all, Saint Valentine's Day. Her heart beat faster, and she nervously reached for Raoul's arm to tug at his sleeve.
"Raoul, I think we might be disturbing someone or something by going there…" she whispered, but her anxious tone only evoked an amused chuckle from her companion.
"I think it's quite the contrary, Christine." The viscount's bright blue eyes turned to her, filling with warm sparks. "We are rather completing the scenery." Raoul grinned at her. Then, before she could fully process what he had just said, he caught her hand and pulled her gently behind him.
The soprano's heartbeat stuttered and quickened pace even more.
Could it mean that…
The thought flitted through her mind, but she had no time to finish it. Just a moment later, they climbed up closer to the peak of the small slope, and the view that was revealed to them took her breath away.
Their old viewpoint, overlooking the sea, looked like a place out of a fairy tale. One where a bright and happy ending was the only one to come.
The wooden fence separating the top of the hill from the small cliff was covered with red roses and brightened by a few ornamental lanterns, flooding everything with a gentle, almost magical glow. Above it all, the sun was just starting to set, tinting the darkening sky with shades of gold mixed with orange, and spilling pink on the lower edges of a few puffy clouds hanging just over the horizon.
Emotions tightened her throat.
"Raoul… it… it's beautiful…" As if in a trance, Christine found herself being led to a bench covered with thick blankets and furs. Having seated her there, Raoul knelt down on one knee in front of her and produced a small box with a ring from his pocket. His warm, tender gaze rose to her. When he spoke again, she couldn't miss a slight emotional trembling filling his usually so confident and easy-going voice.
"Christine Daaé, my childhood and current friend and the love of my life, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
There was only one answer she could give to such a question.
"Yes!"
Before she could fully realise what was happening, she was already in Raoul's strong arms, feeling tears of happiness trickling down her face and enjoying the touch of his lips on hers. Though they stood in semi-darkness, her chest was flooded with sunshine.
When they finally parted, Raoul handed her a handkerchief with a teasing smile.
"Already regretting your decision? I've always believed we should leave questioning our life choices to the first quarrels or the first mundane life difficulties after the wedding…" He frowned, faking a deep reverie.
Christine couldn't suppress a chuckle, though it ended up sounding a bit tearful.
When she finally got herself in order, they returned back to the bench, and then watched the rest of the sunset, cuddled up to each other under one of the warm furs. Soon, the first stars started to appear on the dark, navy firmament. Raoul stood again, offering her his gloved hand.
"We have been sitting here for almost half an hour and still haven't seen any Korrigans dance, so I think we have to encourage them a little…" A mischievous grin played on his mouth as he winked at her. The aristocrat waved his hand, giving a sign to someone she couldn't see.
A second later, the soft sounds of a violin filled the chilly air, mixing with the deep murmur of the sea below. The enchanting melody wrapped softly around them like a veil, slipping into Christine's heart. Raoul gallantly offered her his hand, and she accepted it, nestling into his arms. Then, the music carried them in a gentle waltz between the starlit sky and the gentle glow of the lanterns, separating them from the blackness around.
Christine was never fond of darkness, and she was often overwhelmed by her fears and insecurities, but as she danced in Raoul's embrace, she no longer felt afraid. Somehow, this night seemed to shine with the warm light of the most beautiful summer days…
Author's notes:
1) A jeté is a type of ballet leap from one foot to the other. The fourth position is one of the feet positions in ballet, with one foot placed in front of the other (about a foot's distance apart). In the open version, the heels are lined up. I have no idea about ballet, so I checked this on the Internet. :)
2) The idea of the slope overlooking the shore where Raoul and Christine used to come as kids, hoping to see the Korrigans dance at the moonrise, is borrowed from Leroux's novel. I really liked it, so I couldn't resist using it in my story.