Chapter 10 - a hidden anger

This is really bad she’s going to anger him! I cast her a warning glance, wondering what’s gotten into her. I’ve only known Ebony for a few months, and in those months I’ve thought of her as a little quiet mouse. Yet embedded in the depths of her hollow eyes I see a spark of anger. My fingers rub tensely upon my head. He stands cockily, leaning upon the cave’s wall. My head throbs painfully, as I run my fingers through my hair.

“We ought to be going,” I manager, breaking the silence, “It’ll be morning soon.” Despite this neither of them take any action of any sort. I stand, trying to pull Ebony along with me.

“How do you know me?” Ebony whispers, her voice low and solemn. Her mahogany eyes pierce into him gravely.

He smiles smugly; “My opera house must be run in complete perfection. As you must imagine, staying here day and night gets horribly tedious,” he explains gesturing to his home, “So I make sure I watch each and every rehearsal. Even though you rarely make any of them when you do… well you’re rather conspicuous…”

“Am I?” her voice sounds like it’s at the brink of breaking. I feel awfully uncomfortable about the news I’m receiving. He’s watching us? I imagine he’s a genius in all the arts by the look of this place. To think of someone like him seeing our every move, our every flaw, is all together unsettling. But I keep my mouth closed.

“Yes Mme. Valette, I don’t appreciate my crew being disorderly or slothful. Which are both significant traits of yours,” he presses upon his words.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but we really must go,” I interject. I tug on Ebony’s arm, but she doesn’t budge.

“I don’t understand… What do you expect of me?” she cries.

“A great deal more,” he replies.

“Come on Ebony! Let’s go!” I hiss, yanking her to her feet. I keep eyes to the exit desperately hoping she’ll catch on.

Abruptly she bursts into tears, “You…Monster! You bloody horrible beast!” she yells fiercely.

Oh my God! My heart stops as she says that. We’re as good as dead! Quickly I tow her towards the way out. I feel his scowl burning into us, but I do not look back.

We run blindly into the dark. The dim torches barely helping us. Water touching our knees. Ebony stumbles behind me.

Our panting echoes the walls. Shadows play on the grey bricks. My eyes glance back only to see that we are perfectly safe. Nothing was there. He hadn’t been following us… Thank God!

I lift myself up onto the ledge, assisting my pathetic friend. “What’s gotten into you?” I gasp, still in shock at her intensity.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbles, twisting her hair through her fingers. I watch as waterfalls of water leak out of it. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that… I just…. I really don’t want to speak of this matter.”

“But-” I start, but the flash of spite in her eyes interjects. I arise in silence and begin to saunter back to the world above… Ebony following behind, but it feels like she’s sinking farther and farther back.

……………………………………………………

Christine’s POV

“Please… Come back to me… Angel!” soft fingers stroke my arm gently, awaking me from my light slumber. I adjust to the ferocious light blaring from the opened windows. Suddenly I wonder if my Angel is there before me. He came for me! I gasp in a pleased shock. Yet there is no Angel to be standing in the golden mist of morning’s first sunshine, only an elderly maid with a ruddy face and stout body. I pout in disappointment…

“Monsieur Bellamount asked I wake you, Miss… Pardon me for startling you,” she nods politely, I half-nod in return.

I sit up and lean upon to the wooden backboard of the bed, untying the taut braid. An explosion of curls emerges from my head. I sigh and run my fingers through the thick tresses.

“He also asked if you should like to accompany him for breakfast in his office,”

“That sounds lovely,” I yawn. Come to think of it I haven’t had a chance to eat a decent meal yesterday! “Please tell him I gladly accept.”

“Will do, Miss,” she says, while exiting the door. I climb out of bed, feeling my weariness pull on my eyelids. After several more yawns I scurry to my suitcase, and empty the contents onto my unmade bed. I grab a simple skirt and blouse, and a gold necklace. Quickly I rip the nightdress and throw it on the floor.

My eyes catch another glimpse at the wall mirror. It hangs there so sullenly, exposing me in the harshest way.

After living three years in the lap of luxury, I certainly had the appearance of girl who has been well pampered. With expensive dishes placed in front of me at the numerous parties I had perhaps gained a pound or so. My dress had the appearance of causality, but the golden necklace and pure silk blouse gave me away all to easily! I button the blouse up only so a little of my neck line shows.

Sighing I unclip the clasp of the necklace from the back of my neck, setting it aside on top of the night table. I decide to tie my hair in a simple bun. After rotating around in the mirror a few times I decide that I look humbly decent.

But where are my morals? I should be more concerned of little Julian then my appearance… He’s been left all to himself with only our servants to tend to him. Then there’s Raoul to consider! He’d surely have a fit if he knew I was here! I sure to do miss him, but his being here will mess my plans up…

Was this a bad idea? Maybe this whole trip was one huge mistake… Even if he was here, I’m probably the last person on earth he’d want to see.

“Mme. Daaé?” a soft voice murmurs through the crack of the door. Startled I collect my emotions in a rush of a heartbeat, smoothing my hair with tense fingers.

“Yes?” I say melodically. The handsome manager strolls in, knocking at the wooden door. He smiles kindly.

“I apologize for not knocking,” he atones as I flatten my skirt out. My eyes drift to the pile of clothing heaped upon the bed. Yet his eyes are transfixed on my gold necklace lying upon the nightstand.

“Do forgive me…. I’m afraid I’ve made quite a mess,” I remark, looking at the untidiness of the room.

He laughs heartily, “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure we can find a maid, who will fix things up,” I smile, but inside I feel my nose pinch up. Even though I’m accustomed to having maids and such, I still have a tendency to clean after myself. Before I married Raoul I never had any servants, the idea was so new to me at first. The way he says this so casually fills me with disgust. I’m guessing he sees the distaste in my eyes as he leads me from the room. “My office is only down the corridor, it’s not the most appropriate place for breakfast, but I do have a surprise for you waiting in there,”

My brow curves upward as I look curiously at his grinning face. A surprise? He barely knows me, what sort of “surprise” does he have in mind?

“Right this way,” he says, opening the door into a sunlit office. I am welcomed with the aroma of pastries and…a familiar face! I gasp as I see

“Madame Giry!” I cry, embracing the old women kindly. Her appearance is a frightfully unnatural calmness. She doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised! Even though three years have gone by she looks just the same as she always did. Just more tired with little wrinkles more significant then before beneath her eyes.

“Christine, dear, how good it to see you,” she smiles, returning my embrace. Tear prickle on my lower eyelashes.

“I remember you saying you wanted to see some old friends,” Monsieur Bellamount comments, leaning upon the bookcase. His arms crossed, and a strange smile upon his face.

“Yes…” I say, a bit befuddled, “How have you been, Madame?”

“Quite well thank you,” she tells me, “Yourself?”

“Good, very good,” I explain, intertwining my fingers, the clicking of the grandfather clock making me nervous.

“And your husband? How is he?” her words hint something. I look deep into her eyes, wondering if perhaps she has an inkling to the reason behind my visit.

“He’s in good health. I am a mother now,” I tell her proudly. Her face changes just the tiniest bit…

“I imagine he is here with you?” she asks sternly. From the corner of my eye, I see Monsieur Bellamount watching every little detail.

“No, Madame, I come alone,” I tell her. Something flashes in her eyes, but only for a moment. Still she smiles in a mysterious fashion remaining very tranquil.

“Please, ladies, do seat yourselves, and feel free to take a pastry!” Monsieur Bellamount interject, sitting in the grand chair and helping himself to a flaky croissant.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, “Madame, is Meg still here?” I smile at my memory of my oldest and dearest friend. How cruel I have been not to write to her…

“Of course, I would’ve told her of your arrival but she wasn’t there in the morning when I went to take a look,” Madame Giry tells me.

I pluck a small ripe looking strawberry from the side of the pastry dish, plopping it into my mouth. Sweetness coats my mouth as I listen to Madame Giry.

Suddenly I hear a knock at the door. A tall muscular man walks in. His eyes like broken glass and his mouth curved in a cold emotionless line.

“Monsieur, I must have a word with you,” he spits venomously in an icy voice. I shutter inwardly at his abruptness and appearance.

“Well a good morning to you, Detective,” Monsieur Bellamount retorts, “Please excuse me for a moment…”

As the two men leave, Madame Giry turns to me, her face serious. “Christine… What are you doing here?”

“Just to visit some old fr-”

“You came to see him, didn’t you?” she whispers hoarsely. I shut my eyes and nod. It was true after all. If anyone would know of my dear Angel’s whereabouts I could trust Madame to point me in the right direction.

“This is extremely foolish of you,” she says sternly, “Did you leave on your own accord? I trust that Raoul knows not of this?”

“No he doesn’t, I left on my own will! Raoul is busy in England,” I explain, giving her pleading eyes, “Please… Is he… alive” I cough the last word out. Her expression is very difficult to read. My heart throbs in my throat. Did I want to know the answer?

“Do not chase the past down… You already made your choice, and you can’t go back,” she says almost sadly.

I put my hand over her cold one, “Please… I must know what has become of him!” I cry desperately.

She sighs, “For…three years… Not one word,” I hold my breath, “I thought he must have withered away in his solitude… All by himself,” she says, the pain written clearly in her words. “After the opera house reopened I was curious if the notes would start to come, but nothing! I had asked this new manager if any suspicious letters had been sent his way, but still nothing,”

“What happened?” I ask eagerly.

“Well one day, just out of the blue, he spoke to me,”

“In person?” I feel a small joy of his existence.

“No… He remained hidden away, behind the studio mirrors… It was very strange,”

“What did you speak of?” I question, my heart beating fast, tears of gladness dropping on my cheeks.

“That’s the strange part, Christine,” she says, “The matter of which he spoke was about one of my ballerinas,”

A blush forms on my face, “What of her?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Madame Giry tells me, seeing the look on my face, “He asked I remove her from the ballet courses. She’s a very poor dancer, true, but only because of her injuries. Three years back she was a member of the audience at…the performance. I don’t know the whole story, but her dress caught fire. It burned her legs badly,”

“How awful!” I remark, not even wanting to imagine such a horror, “But how can she dance?”

“She’s lucky I suppose that she’s recovering, but I don’t know if she’ll ever be a true ballerina,”


“I’m sorry for the long wait!” Monsieur Bellamount says, rushing back to his seat, “Is everything all right?” He looks at our expressions in confusion.

“Yes,” I mutter as confused as he is, “Please excuse me, but I must go,” Quickly I gather my skirts and rush from the room.

“Was it something I said?” I hear Monsieur Bellamount ask in wonder.

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