| ~ Chapter 5 ~ |
| As the days sped by, Christine impressed the doctor well enough so that he lessened her laudanum dosage. As the drug seeped from her mind and body, she finally began to feel more in control of her senses, and that aided her in her deception. She did everything she could to appear demure and pleasant, the ideal Victorian wife. Raoul seemed ecstatic with her �recovery.� And he announced one evening that he had planned a surprise for her to celebrate her success. �What is it?� Christine asked coyly, secretly fearing that he might try to elope with her. �I will only tell you this,� Raoul beamed. �There is a new gown for you in your closet upstairs. It would please me if you wore it tonight.� Christine nodded and mechanically moved upstairs, preparing for Raoul�s �surprise.� She was relieved when she saw that the dress he was referring to was a beautiful royal blue gown, made of satin and velvet. It fit her perfectly, outlining her petite figure and flattering her lovely blue eyes. She sighed as she dressed, then returned downstairs to meet Raoul in the foyer. �You look lovely,� he said, pride filling his eyes. �Merci,� she said softly. �So� are you ready?� �For what?� she asked warily. �For your surprise,� he smiled boyishly. �As you wish,� she demurred. He drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and smiled mischievously at her. Christine could not help but shudder slightly, as she recalled with ugly clarity the doctor�s silk handkerchief, which he had used to gag her the night of her abduction. �What do you mean to do?� she asked, struggling to subdue her fear. �Christine,� Raoul clicked his tongue at her. �It�s for your surprise.� He gently tied the kerchief about her eyes, then led her out side to his carriage. Christine steeled her nerves, and tried to accustom herself to the sounds of the night. It made her think painfully of Erik, her absent lover, and she ached to know what had become of him. * * * * * That night, the Phantom prepared to return to the Opera House once more. He dressed in his finest tuxedo and swirled his black cloak about his shoulders. Then he grabbed his fedora and strode to the door, but Nadir called out to him before he could leave. �Do you really think this wise, Erik?� the Persian asked anxiously. �I fear you may do yourself a harm, and I do not wish you to harm anyone, least of all yourself!� �Daroga,� the Phantom sighed ruefully. �I give you my word that I shall behave with the utmost discretion. I simply must see her one last time.� Nadir bowed his head, his throat constricting painfully with the realization that Erik could not even say Christine�s name. How then could he see her and not be effected by the ravages of a broken heart? Nadir sighed, and nodded thoughtfully, realizing his path was laid before him. He gave his consent and watched the Phantom dash through his door and disappear into the night. Without a moment�s hesitation, the Daroga grabbed his coat, and quickly followed his friend, returning to the Opera House once again. Erik did not think twice about Nadir�s pleading looks and concerned sighs. The Persian had always been a busybody, and he did not expect him to change. He also knew the Daroga well enough to suspect that he was being followed even as he flew down the Paris streets. But once he entered the Opera House through the Rue Scribe, Erik could sense that Nadir had left him to his course, and he felt an odd excitement take hold of him. He would see her tonight. Christine. That thought was as painful as it was sweet, but he tried to keep his mind free from the ravages of grief. He would see her tonight and he would find the answers he sought. As he sped through the caverns that would take him to the backstage area of the theatre, Erik delighted in the fierce beat of his heart. Now that he was back in his Opera House, he felt alive and well. He moved through the shadows with practiced ease, and slipped through the darkness backstage to listen to the performers as the readied themselves for the upcoming performance. Most of the chorus was onstage, practicing last minute steps or pieces of music, but two chorus girls were in the wings, chatting idly and stretching their long legs. An impish idea pulled at Erik, and he let a floorboard creak as he trespassed, noting how the girls jumped with fright. �Do you really think the Opera Ghost is dead?� one of them asked nervously. Some of the other dancers noted their distress and soon joined the girls. They all huddled together in fright Meg Giry stepped forward and quickly allayed their fears. �I think he�s gone,� she said with some authority. �And I�ll tell you why.� Her conspirators drew closer to her as she whispered her tale: �A few weeks ago, Mama found a note addressed to the Opera Ghost. It was simply lying in the street, near the Palais Garnier. Since Mama had once delivered notes to the Ghost, she felt compelled to pick it up.� �Did she read it?� one of the girls asked. �And risk the Phantom's wrath?� Meg chided. �I think not! We Girys are known for our discretion!� Erik stifled a laugh and moved closer to the girls to learn more of the mysterious letter that had been addressed to him. �So what became of the note?� another girl asked. Meg seemed to be drawing quite a crowd with her �discreet� tale. �Mama placed it in the Opera Ghost�s box,� Meg explained. �But the Phantom never came for the missive. It was left undisturbed�.� The girls all let out a fearful �ooh!� and glanced up at Box Five. The box was shrouded in shadows, but one of the girls thought she saw something white streaking towards it. �Mon Dieu!� she cried. �The Phantom!� The girls screamed and dashed about like the �petite rats� they were. Madame Giry came forth and pounded her staff on the floor, commanding their attention. �What is this nonsense?� she demanded. �Someone saw the Phantom!� Meg cried. �Ridiculous!� Madame Giry scoffed. �The Opera Ghost is dead and buried. Your minds are playing tricks on you!� The girls looked at each other then cast nervous glances back at Box Five. True, the shadows seemed deep and impenetrable. Perhaps it had just been their imaginations after all. �Now, off to your dressing rooms!� the ballet mistress commanded. �We have an hour before our good patrons arrive!� The chorus girls scurried off, and Madame Giry raised her wary eyes to Box Five. * * * * * True to little Meg�s words, a letter addressed to the Opera Ghost was waiting for Erik when he bounded into Box Five. He instantly recognized Christine�s handwriting, and he lifted the letter with trembling hands. He would have loved to tear it open immediately, but he slowed his haste to carefully unfold the envelope, wishing to preserve this last communication from his beloved. A moment later, white hot anger flooded his veins, as Erik read of Christine�s abduction at Raoul�s hands. He felt sick with rage, and his fury seemed to shake him, body and soul. He struggled to breathe, and tried to remind himself that he had once carried Christine off for love. �I suppose I am not so different from that wretched boy,� he seethed. But Erik had learned that to force love from someone was the surest way to lose it. Christine had taught him that lesson. He shook his head in disgust and tucked Christine�s note into his breast pocket. �I think it is time for the Victome to learn a most valuable lesson!� he growled. He swept through a secret door, moving swiftly from Box Five to the stage. In the darkness of the theatre, he surveyed his realm with passion and power. Magic filled the air and a thrill raced up his spine. He had been away too long. Erik stretched his long fingers and dove back into the shadows. He would bide his time until the Vicomte arrived at the theatre with his bride-to-be. And then, the Phantom of the Opera would have his revenge. ~ Chapter 6 ~ Back |