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charleygirlTitle: The Garish Light of Day 49/?
Author: charleygirl
Word Count: 3835
Rating: G
Genre: General, Drama
Characters Involved: Erik the Phantom, Christine Daae, Madame Giry, Meg Giry, Monsieur Reyer
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is the creation of Gaston Leroux but probably these days copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Summary: Pastime with good company.
HOUSEWARMING
“I would like to propose a toast,” Theodora said, clapping her hands in an attempt to gain the attention of the little gathering in Erik’s music room. They all stopped talking to look at the petite diva, who had climbed onto one of the chairs, the warm glow of the nearby gas lamp falling on her in a smaller scale imitation of one of the Opera spotlights. She raised her glass with a broad smile. “To Erik and Christine, their future home and happiness.”
“To Erik and Christine!” chorused the company as one.
Christine blushed and Erik looked embarrassed, his visible cheek pink. He was still uncomfortable with a room full of people in such an intimate setting, she knew, even if those people were friends. For so many years he had had regular human contact with just her and Madame Giry; it was taking him some time to adjust to the novelty of actually having others who cared about him and wanted his company. When Christine suggested the little party to celebrate his new home he had immediately refused, claiming that he wanted no fuss; he had even been awkward and anxious to be rid of Teddy when she brought Bruno on the evening he moved in. The idea of letting someone else into his living space, running their eye over the items with which he chose to surround himself and curios he had collected during his difficult life, was almost akin to that of allowing a stranger to pry into his soul and just as abhorrent. In his view the house was for just the two of them, no one else; he wanted no one to spoil their intended idyll.
Thankfully, after several long conversations and considerable persuasion on Christine’s part, he had backed down and given her permission to invite a select group back to Neuilly after the final performance of the week. Now that Erik was back at work Christine had returned to the role of Gilda; Rigoletto was still playing to packed houses and was scheduled to run for another two weeks but the critics in the newspapers were wondering what the next production was to be and even the Marquis de Borges had expressed concern over its delay. The cast and crew were working flat out to have Die Fledermaus ready to open and were all becoming so tired that at times there was confusion over which characters the leads were meant to be playing; on more than one occasion Christine had nearly found herself singing Adele’s lines to Alphonse instead of Gilda’s.
It was therefore with some relief that the invitations were accepted and it was a balmy evening when they gathered around the piano in the back room, the windows open to the garden and allowing the breeze from the river to offer some respite from the heat which had barely abated all day. Normally the season would be over by now but the managers were keen to capitalise upon the goodwill and anticipation gained from Rigoletto and though many of the high-born patrons had decamped to their estates for the summer there were still plenty of those still in town who were keen to purchase a ticket and enjoy an evening at the Opera.
“So, have you picked a date yet or are we to continue in fervent anticipation of this wedding of yours?” Teddy asked now, stepping down delicately from her perch with the help of James Patterson-Smythe who offered her a gallant hand.
“Perhaps they’re intending to make a break for it in the night and elope,” Jimmy said with a wink.
Christine glanced at Erik and he flushed again, remembering his suggestion that they do something very similar a few days earlier. “We were thinking about the end of August,” she said. “As the managers are pushing back the new season until the end of September we’ll have a little time to spare and the Hôtel de Ville can fit us in for the civil ceremony then.”
“An excellent idea,” remarked Eugène Reyer from his seat in the corner next to Madame Giry. The two had been talking quietly and much to Christine and Meg’s amusement the ballet mistress, encouraged by three glasses of champagne and the warmth of the evening, almost seemed to be flirting with him; for once she had even abandoned her habitual black in favour of a grey silk dress which, though plain and rather outmoded in style, coupled with a simple chignon in place of her usual severe plaits made her look much younger. “Will you be having a blessing afterwards?”
“We have yet to discuss the plans in that much detail,” Erik said quickly, declining to elaborate upon the real reason a decision had not be reached, namely his reluctance to participate in any religious element of their nuptials. It was a sticking point between them, one that Christine would rather was not there; a civil ceremony only was legal in France, but she had been brought up to believe in God and could not bear the thought that she might not be married in His sight. Madame Giry had promised to speak to Erik on the subject, but deep down Christine knew his reasons for turning away from religion and it would be difficult to convince him that whatever he thought the Lord had not abandoned him.
Naturally oblivious to all of this, Reyer nodded. “Let me know when you do; I am good friends with the organist at the Madeleine.”
“I’m not sure we could afford a blessing there,” Christine told him reluctantly, knowing just how expensive a service at the fashionable church near the Opera would be. Even though Erik was hardly short of cash they could not be seen spending money as though it was water; questions would be asked and people would become suspicious, wondering exactly how a supposed struggling composer could afford such luxuries.
“Why? Did Erik spend all the money on the house?” Jimmy asked, eliciting a smattering of laughter. Taking a sip of the brandy he had chosen in place of champagne, he added as though he had just read Christine’s mind, “If it’s not rude of me to ask, where did you find the money for this place? The Populaire may be prestigious but it doesn’t exactly pay handsomely.”
Erik exchanged a glance with Madame Giry. “Inheritance, James,” he said smoothly, bringing out the story upon which they had all agreed, “And the little I have managed to put by over the years, plus the income from my music. The house is an investment for the future.”
“I can’t imagine that you earn much from Langé and St Just.” Jimmy’s eye lingered on the music resting on the piano; Erik had been working some more upon the ballet for Die Fledermaus and the resultant sheets of manuscript paper were spread across the instrument’s lid. Madame Giry kept complaining about the new additions to the score which meant more work for her and the corps de ballet but the perfectionist in him could not let it go until it was absolutely right in his eyes. “You really should let me represent you; I’m sure I could push them up another twenty percent.”
“I doubt if the pieces they request from me would be worth the trouble.” Erik grimaced. “Drawing room airs are the work of a few minutes and forgotten just as quickly.”
“Well, if you decide to publish anything of greater scope, come to me. Teddy will tell you I’m not being immodest if I say that my business acumen has made her a rich woman over the years,” Jimmy said, looking towards Theodora, who nodded. “You’ll be needing the extra income if you’ve ploughed all your funds into this place, and I promise I won’t charge you an extortionate commission fee. Well, not on the first transaction, at any rate.”
Erik shook his head, chuckling. “I’ll give you points for persistence, James.”
“Couldn’t have got where I am today without it, my friend,” Patterson-Smythe told him with a cheeky grin.
“Christine and I are going to look at bridesmaids’ dresses before rehearsal on Monday,” Meg said eagerly, eyes shining. “I’m so looking forward to it; I’ve never been a bridesmaid before!”
“You were a flower girl when Madame Michon married,” her mother reminded her. “Very pretty you looked, too. Everyone was very taken with you. I still have the wreath of violets you wore in your hair.”
“Quite natural,” Reyer agreed with a fond smile. “She was like a little angel. Only the wings were missing.”
Meg screwed up her nose. “I don’t even remember that.”
“I was hoping that you might accompany us, Madame Giry,” Christine said. “You are after all the closest I have to a mother and I would value your opinion.”
The ballet mistress looked up, her mouth falling open in surprise at her former pupil’s admission before she swiftly closed it again, struggling to keep her composure. “Christine, I... of course, if that is what you wish,” she replied, her even tone belying the tear Christine could see forming at the corner of one eye. Surreptitiously she caught hold of Christine’s hand and squeezed it.
“I hope you kept some money back from the house to buy a suitably extravagant dress, Maestro,” Teddy remarked to Erik. “I’d be quite happy to take her to a few couturiers. That girl deserves spoiling.”
“We aim to keep things as simple as possible.” He drained the last of his champagne and put down the glass; Christine held his gaze as he glanced at her hesitantly. “And Christine already has a dress, should she still wish to wear it.”
The Prima Donna raised an eyebrow. “Is there something more to this that enquiring minds might want to know?”
Christine laughed, privately thinking that even the most enquiring mind would be hard pressed to understand the mannequin Erik had made of her, perfectly sculpted to resemble her features and wearing a sumptuous wedding dress and veil that he had designed himself. Even now, though the dress was carefully wrapped in tissue paper and packed away in a box at the back of her wardrobe, she had no idea what had happened to the doll and did not like to ask Erik. “I saw something I liked, that’s all,” she said with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “I have a very generous fiancé who bought it on the spot.”
“You mean to say that he’s seen the dress?” Teddy asked, both eyebrows arching upwards this time. She shook her head and tutted. “That’s horribly bad luck, sweetheart.”
“Only, I believe, if I have actually seen her wearing it,” Erik corrected. He smiled slightly but his tone was sharp. “That is the custom, is it not?”
“Why don’t you come shopping, too, Teddy?” Christine said quickly, keen to change the subject. “We can make a morning of it, have coffee... what do you think?”
“I’d love to, honey. Never need an excuse to spend some of my hard earned cash,” Teddy replied cheerfully. “Even if you have a dress, I assume you’ll still need a trousseau, and all the other little accoutrements?” Without waiting for Christine to reply she began to check items off on her fingers. “You’ll want a going away outfit, naturally, and new nightdresses... Oh! I know where you can buy the most exquisite silk under things; they’re not cheap, but it’s worth paying that little bit more when you think of the rewards they’ll reap on your wedding night...”
Christine felt her face become hot and she knew she had gone bright red at the mention of such things; behind her Erik noisily cleared his throat. “Would anyone like another drink?” he asked, voice slightly unsteady. The other men, evidently also embarrassed by Teddy’s shameless discussion of the mysteries of a woman’s wardrobe, hurriedly proffered their glasses. Theodora, entirely unrepentant, just grinned.
“I’m going to have to buy a spectacular hat,” she said as the males of the party retreated to a safe distance and fell to examining Erik’s collection of instruments. “If I remember rightly there’s a fabulous milliner in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré; I’ll take you there, Madame, and we can both choose something stunning. It’s a shame we have rehearsal; we could have had dinner at Maxim’s.”
“Of course, my enormous salary will run to a hat from one of those boutiques,” Madame Giry said dryly as Meg’s eyes all but popped out on stalks at the suggestion of eating in such an exclusive restaurant. “I suppose having no food for six months will be worth it on the day.”
Teddy clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’ve done it again. Listen to me, running off at the mouth and making you feel inadequate! I really must learn to think before I speak.”
“Please don’t,” Christine said, laughing; Madame Giry’s mouth was twitching and she knew that the ballet mistress was not really offended. Impulsively she leaned down and gave Teddy a hug. “We love you just as you are.”
Theodora patted her shoulder. “You’re very sweet for saying so, and for trying to make me feel like less of an idiot.”
“I am not averse to trying on a few hats while you choose your own,” Madame Giry told her, and Teddy smiled, relieved. The Prima Donna leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with her hand.
“Could we do that, perhaps, sometime?” Meg asked after a pause, eyes still like saucers. “Go to Maxim’s, I mean? I’ve walked past so many times and heard so much about it... do royalty eat there?”
“When’s your birthday, Meg? We’ll go then,” Teddy declared, much to Meg’s delight.
“Next March,” said Madame Giry, lifting an eyebrow. “That should give me enough time to save up for the starter and a glass of water.”
Meg turned to her mother, face falling is disappointment. “Oh, Maman - !”
“Take no notice, Meg, it will be my special treat,” Teddy declared, shooting Madame Giry a sly glance from beneath her lashes.
In return, the ballet mistress fixed her with a gimlet stare. “You are a terrible influence upon my daughter, Mademoiselle.”
“You only live once,” Theodora said with a shrug. “I aim to enjoy myself while I’m here. What else is money for but to have a good time?”
“Unfortunately some of us have to live within more slender means,” Madame replied in a freezing tone which killed all possible response.
Silence fell over them, the conversation quite beyond rescue. A loud eruption of male laughter drew Christine’s attention to the other side of the room, where Jimmy was slapping Erik on the back; the American’s face was set in a wide smile and Reyer also looked pleased. Erik, recovering his poise with reassuring speed, reached up to the violin case that lay on a high shelf, withdrawing the precious Stradivarius that was one of his most prized possessions. Jimmy whistled as he regarded the expensive instrument; Reyer took it carefully, examining it with an expert eye, before handing it back to its owner, who touched its gleaming wood almost reverently. Erik’s long white fingers plucked at the strings, testing whether the violin had fallen out of tune, and turned the keys, making minute adjustments. Apparently satisfied, he lifted it and set it beneath his chin; with his free hand he took up the bow, teasing out a few slow, beautiful notes. Seeing that Christine was watching, Jimmy rounded the piano and made her a low bow.
“Would you honour us with a song, fair Daae?” he asked, extending a hand. Behind him Reyer was taking a seat on the piano bench.
She glanced at Theodora, who was looking a little uncomfortable sitting so close to a disgruntled Madame Giry. “If Teddy will join me.”
Relieved, Teddy eagerly bounced to her feet, sweeping across to stand in the bend of the grand piano that dominated the room. Beside her diminutive figure Christine felt like a giant despite not being overly tall herself; as Teddy leaned on the richly-pattered throw that covered the piano lid Christine drifted back towards the keyboard, hovering at Monsieur Reyer’s elbow. The musical director beamed at the sight of her.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Daae! You have been a most charming hostess this evening, most charming,” he said brightly, and Christine found herself wondering exactly how much he had had to drink. “Erik has been kind enough to invite me to your wedding; I would be delighted to accept, absolutely delighted.”
Christine could not help but smile back, and was glad he was in such an affable mood. She and Erik had discussed the guest list for the wedding proper, intending to keep it very select, inviting only those to whom they felt close. After the events of the past few weeks that circle had inevitably widened to include James and Theodora but it was still painfully small. Christine had no family living and Erik claimed none as his own; while it was natural that Meg would be her bridesmaid, Christine knew that she could hardly ask Madame Giry to give her away. It would be ludicrous to approach Raoul, even had he been in town, and the only other man with whom she had more than a passing friendship was Erik. To ask her fiancé to give her away to himself was the stuff of farce. They had gone round and round in circles until the perfect solution had come to her as an epiphany in the middle of the night, an idea she had taken to Erik the next morning and one of which he wholeheartedly approved. Hesitantly, as Reyer shuffled the music Erik handed him, Christine said,
“Monsieur, may I ask you something?”
Reyer looked up at her in surprise. “Of course, my dear Mademoiselle, of course.”
“You have known me a long time, Monsieur; you may call me Christine,” she told him, and, taking a deep breath, added, “I was wondering... well, Erik and I both were, actually... would you... could you perhaps... would you be willing to walk down the aisle with me, to give me away?”
“You... you wish me to take the place of your father?” he asked quietly, sharp little eyes fixed on her face as though searching for a sign that she might be joking.
Christine nodded. “I would be honoured if you would say yes.”
“Honoured? My dear, dear Mademoiselle Christine, it is I who will be honoured.” Reyer’s eyes watered and she thought for a moment that he was about to cry, but he recovered himself just in time. He took her hand, holding it between both of his. “Thank you,” he said seriously. “It means so much that you have chosen me to perform so important a task.”
“Thank you for agreeing,” Christine replied. “I know that my father would be glad I have a friend such as yourself to give me away in his stead.”
Reyer nodded, almost overcome once again. He patted her hand. “I met your father once, you know, when he came to the Populaire to give a recital. He was a true virtuoso and a most gentle, lyrical soul. It is a shame he is not here to see you wed.” He blinked once or twice, and a moment later, straightening in his seat he became businesslike, back to the Reyer she knew. Withdrawing his hold after a brief encouraging squeeze of her fingers, he shuffled through the music before him. “Now, what do you wish to sing? Something from Die Fledermaus? Hannibal? The Mikado?”
A grin touched Christine’s lips as she shook her head. Reyer had a love for the English comic operettas but she knew how Erik hated them, regarding the work of Messieurs Gilbert and Sullivan as ridiculous nonsense. “No, I think I have had enough of Adele for one week. Something simple... Gentil Coquelicot.”
“That is a children’s song,” the musical director pointed out.
“But a pretty tune,” she countered, and with a familiar huff that was known and feared by the company of the Opera Populaire he reluctantly agreed. Trying not to giggle, Christine all but skipped to Erik’s side; standing on tiptoe she whispered in his ear, “Monsieur Reyer has agreed to give me away!”
A smile spread across his face. “And I have asked James if he will act as my best man.”
“It’s actually going to happen,” Christine said breathlessly. “We’re actually going to get married.”
“Did you doubt it?” he asked, eyes dancing.
“Never. But now that other people are involved and we’ve decided on a date... it all seems so real. I’m scared,” she confessed.
“I’m not,” Erik told her. She stared at him in amazement, remembering their conversation of only days ago, and his reaction to the thought of having children. For several moments she had expected him to faint clean away, or have a heart attack on the spot.
“You’re not?” she repeated incredulously.
“No.” He paused, and confided with a worried expression, “I’m terrified. Can you not hear my knees knocking?”
“I wondered what that noise was.” Christine muffled her giggles behind her hand.
“Excuse me, lovebirds,” Teddy said loudly, interrupting. She looked at the two of them expectantly. “Are we singing tonight? We can all go home if you’d like a little privacy...”
With a cough, Erik turned away, raising the violin once more. Christine opened her mouth to remind him to be careful of his ribs but changed her mind when she saw how happy he looked to have the instrument in his hands. With a curtsey to Theodora, who returned it with a swish of her peach satin skirts, she rounded the piano and took her place by the Prima Donna’s side. As she stood there, listening to Reyer’s introduction, her gaze roamed around the room, falling in turn upon her companions. There was the musical director with his striped poplin waistcoat and perfectly-trimmed little moustache that bristled when he was angry; Jimmy leaning lazily against the bookshelves, brandy glass in hand; Madame Giry watching proceedings with her sharp eye for detail, her arm around Meg, who rested her head on her mother’s shoulder like a child, tired after a long day of rehearsals; Teddy comically draping herself over the piano lid like a cabaret chanteuse; and last but not least there was Erik, trying not to smile at Teddy’s antics or look at the way her corset was pushing her cleavage to the fore as she leaned towards him with a sultry pout.
Christine found herself smiling, her heart full. For the first time in many months she felt content. The two bar introduction came to an end and she lifted her voice. It was a simple song, little more than a nursery rhyme, but here and now it would do.
I went down to my garden
I went down to my garden
To gather some rosemary...
Author: charleygirl
Word Count: 3835
Rating: G
Genre: General, Drama
Characters Involved: Erik the Phantom, Christine Daae, Madame Giry, Meg Giry, Monsieur Reyer
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is the creation of Gaston Leroux but probably these days copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Summary: Pastime with good company.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Theodora said, clapping her hands in an attempt to gain the attention of the little gathering in Erik’s music room. They all stopped talking to look at the petite diva, who had climbed onto one of the chairs, the warm glow of the nearby gas lamp falling on her in a smaller scale imitation of one of the Opera spotlights. She raised her glass with a broad smile. “To Erik and Christine, their future home and happiness.”
“To Erik and Christine!” chorused the company as one.
Christine blushed and Erik looked embarrassed, his visible cheek pink. He was still uncomfortable with a room full of people in such an intimate setting, she knew, even if those people were friends. For so many years he had had regular human contact with just her and Madame Giry; it was taking him some time to adjust to the novelty of actually having others who cared about him and wanted his company. When Christine suggested the little party to celebrate his new home he had immediately refused, claiming that he wanted no fuss; he had even been awkward and anxious to be rid of Teddy when she brought Bruno on the evening he moved in. The idea of letting someone else into his living space, running their eye over the items with which he chose to surround himself and curios he had collected during his difficult life, was almost akin to that of allowing a stranger to pry into his soul and just as abhorrent. In his view the house was for just the two of them, no one else; he wanted no one to spoil their intended idyll.
Thankfully, after several long conversations and considerable persuasion on Christine’s part, he had backed down and given her permission to invite a select group back to Neuilly after the final performance of the week. Now that Erik was back at work Christine had returned to the role of Gilda; Rigoletto was still playing to packed houses and was scheduled to run for another two weeks but the critics in the newspapers were wondering what the next production was to be and even the Marquis de Borges had expressed concern over its delay. The cast and crew were working flat out to have Die Fledermaus ready to open and were all becoming so tired that at times there was confusion over which characters the leads were meant to be playing; on more than one occasion Christine had nearly found herself singing Adele’s lines to Alphonse instead of Gilda’s.
It was therefore with some relief that the invitations were accepted and it was a balmy evening when they gathered around the piano in the back room, the windows open to the garden and allowing the breeze from the river to offer some respite from the heat which had barely abated all day. Normally the season would be over by now but the managers were keen to capitalise upon the goodwill and anticipation gained from Rigoletto and though many of the high-born patrons had decamped to their estates for the summer there were still plenty of those still in town who were keen to purchase a ticket and enjoy an evening at the Opera.
“So, have you picked a date yet or are we to continue in fervent anticipation of this wedding of yours?” Teddy asked now, stepping down delicately from her perch with the help of James Patterson-Smythe who offered her a gallant hand.
“Perhaps they’re intending to make a break for it in the night and elope,” Jimmy said with a wink.
Christine glanced at Erik and he flushed again, remembering his suggestion that they do something very similar a few days earlier. “We were thinking about the end of August,” she said. “As the managers are pushing back the new season until the end of September we’ll have a little time to spare and the Hôtel de Ville can fit us in for the civil ceremony then.”
“An excellent idea,” remarked Eugène Reyer from his seat in the corner next to Madame Giry. The two had been talking quietly and much to Christine and Meg’s amusement the ballet mistress, encouraged by three glasses of champagne and the warmth of the evening, almost seemed to be flirting with him; for once she had even abandoned her habitual black in favour of a grey silk dress which, though plain and rather outmoded in style, coupled with a simple chignon in place of her usual severe plaits made her look much younger. “Will you be having a blessing afterwards?”
“We have yet to discuss the plans in that much detail,” Erik said quickly, declining to elaborate upon the real reason a decision had not be reached, namely his reluctance to participate in any religious element of their nuptials. It was a sticking point between them, one that Christine would rather was not there; a civil ceremony only was legal in France, but she had been brought up to believe in God and could not bear the thought that she might not be married in His sight. Madame Giry had promised to speak to Erik on the subject, but deep down Christine knew his reasons for turning away from religion and it would be difficult to convince him that whatever he thought the Lord had not abandoned him.
Naturally oblivious to all of this, Reyer nodded. “Let me know when you do; I am good friends with the organist at the Madeleine.”
“I’m not sure we could afford a blessing there,” Christine told him reluctantly, knowing just how expensive a service at the fashionable church near the Opera would be. Even though Erik was hardly short of cash they could not be seen spending money as though it was water; questions would be asked and people would become suspicious, wondering exactly how a supposed struggling composer could afford such luxuries.
“Why? Did Erik spend all the money on the house?” Jimmy asked, eliciting a smattering of laughter. Taking a sip of the brandy he had chosen in place of champagne, he added as though he had just read Christine’s mind, “If it’s not rude of me to ask, where did you find the money for this place? The Populaire may be prestigious but it doesn’t exactly pay handsomely.”
Erik exchanged a glance with Madame Giry. “Inheritance, James,” he said smoothly, bringing out the story upon which they had all agreed, “And the little I have managed to put by over the years, plus the income from my music. The house is an investment for the future.”
“I can’t imagine that you earn much from Langé and St Just.” Jimmy’s eye lingered on the music resting on the piano; Erik had been working some more upon the ballet for Die Fledermaus and the resultant sheets of manuscript paper were spread across the instrument’s lid. Madame Giry kept complaining about the new additions to the score which meant more work for her and the corps de ballet but the perfectionist in him could not let it go until it was absolutely right in his eyes. “You really should let me represent you; I’m sure I could push them up another twenty percent.”
“I doubt if the pieces they request from me would be worth the trouble.” Erik grimaced. “Drawing room airs are the work of a few minutes and forgotten just as quickly.”
“Well, if you decide to publish anything of greater scope, come to me. Teddy will tell you I’m not being immodest if I say that my business acumen has made her a rich woman over the years,” Jimmy said, looking towards Theodora, who nodded. “You’ll be needing the extra income if you’ve ploughed all your funds into this place, and I promise I won’t charge you an extortionate commission fee. Well, not on the first transaction, at any rate.”
Erik shook his head, chuckling. “I’ll give you points for persistence, James.”
“Couldn’t have got where I am today without it, my friend,” Patterson-Smythe told him with a cheeky grin.
“Christine and I are going to look at bridesmaids’ dresses before rehearsal on Monday,” Meg said eagerly, eyes shining. “I’m so looking forward to it; I’ve never been a bridesmaid before!”
“You were a flower girl when Madame Michon married,” her mother reminded her. “Very pretty you looked, too. Everyone was very taken with you. I still have the wreath of violets you wore in your hair.”
“Quite natural,” Reyer agreed with a fond smile. “She was like a little angel. Only the wings were missing.”
Meg screwed up her nose. “I don’t even remember that.”
“I was hoping that you might accompany us, Madame Giry,” Christine said. “You are after all the closest I have to a mother and I would value your opinion.”
The ballet mistress looked up, her mouth falling open in surprise at her former pupil’s admission before she swiftly closed it again, struggling to keep her composure. “Christine, I... of course, if that is what you wish,” she replied, her even tone belying the tear Christine could see forming at the corner of one eye. Surreptitiously she caught hold of Christine’s hand and squeezed it.
“I hope you kept some money back from the house to buy a suitably extravagant dress, Maestro,” Teddy remarked to Erik. “I’d be quite happy to take her to a few couturiers. That girl deserves spoiling.”
“We aim to keep things as simple as possible.” He drained the last of his champagne and put down the glass; Christine held his gaze as he glanced at her hesitantly. “And Christine already has a dress, should she still wish to wear it.”
The Prima Donna raised an eyebrow. “Is there something more to this that enquiring minds might want to know?”
Christine laughed, privately thinking that even the most enquiring mind would be hard pressed to understand the mannequin Erik had made of her, perfectly sculpted to resemble her features and wearing a sumptuous wedding dress and veil that he had designed himself. Even now, though the dress was carefully wrapped in tissue paper and packed away in a box at the back of her wardrobe, she had no idea what had happened to the doll and did not like to ask Erik. “I saw something I liked, that’s all,” she said with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “I have a very generous fiancé who bought it on the spot.”
“You mean to say that he’s seen the dress?” Teddy asked, both eyebrows arching upwards this time. She shook her head and tutted. “That’s horribly bad luck, sweetheart.”
“Only, I believe, if I have actually seen her wearing it,” Erik corrected. He smiled slightly but his tone was sharp. “That is the custom, is it not?”
“Why don’t you come shopping, too, Teddy?” Christine said quickly, keen to change the subject. “We can make a morning of it, have coffee... what do you think?”
“I’d love to, honey. Never need an excuse to spend some of my hard earned cash,” Teddy replied cheerfully. “Even if you have a dress, I assume you’ll still need a trousseau, and all the other little accoutrements?” Without waiting for Christine to reply she began to check items off on her fingers. “You’ll want a going away outfit, naturally, and new nightdresses... Oh! I know where you can buy the most exquisite silk under things; they’re not cheap, but it’s worth paying that little bit more when you think of the rewards they’ll reap on your wedding night...”
Christine felt her face become hot and she knew she had gone bright red at the mention of such things; behind her Erik noisily cleared his throat. “Would anyone like another drink?” he asked, voice slightly unsteady. The other men, evidently also embarrassed by Teddy’s shameless discussion of the mysteries of a woman’s wardrobe, hurriedly proffered their glasses. Theodora, entirely unrepentant, just grinned.
“I’m going to have to buy a spectacular hat,” she said as the males of the party retreated to a safe distance and fell to examining Erik’s collection of instruments. “If I remember rightly there’s a fabulous milliner in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré; I’ll take you there, Madame, and we can both choose something stunning. It’s a shame we have rehearsal; we could have had dinner at Maxim’s.”
“Of course, my enormous salary will run to a hat from one of those boutiques,” Madame Giry said dryly as Meg’s eyes all but popped out on stalks at the suggestion of eating in such an exclusive restaurant. “I suppose having no food for six months will be worth it on the day.”
Teddy clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’ve done it again. Listen to me, running off at the mouth and making you feel inadequate! I really must learn to think before I speak.”
“Please don’t,” Christine said, laughing; Madame Giry’s mouth was twitching and she knew that the ballet mistress was not really offended. Impulsively she leaned down and gave Teddy a hug. “We love you just as you are.”
Theodora patted her shoulder. “You’re very sweet for saying so, and for trying to make me feel like less of an idiot.”
“I am not averse to trying on a few hats while you choose your own,” Madame Giry told her, and Teddy smiled, relieved. The Prima Donna leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with her hand.
“Could we do that, perhaps, sometime?” Meg asked after a pause, eyes still like saucers. “Go to Maxim’s, I mean? I’ve walked past so many times and heard so much about it... do royalty eat there?”
“When’s your birthday, Meg? We’ll go then,” Teddy declared, much to Meg’s delight.
“Next March,” said Madame Giry, lifting an eyebrow. “That should give me enough time to save up for the starter and a glass of water.”
Meg turned to her mother, face falling is disappointment. “Oh, Maman - !”
“Take no notice, Meg, it will be my special treat,” Teddy declared, shooting Madame Giry a sly glance from beneath her lashes.
In return, the ballet mistress fixed her with a gimlet stare. “You are a terrible influence upon my daughter, Mademoiselle.”
“You only live once,” Theodora said with a shrug. “I aim to enjoy myself while I’m here. What else is money for but to have a good time?”
“Unfortunately some of us have to live within more slender means,” Madame replied in a freezing tone which killed all possible response.
Silence fell over them, the conversation quite beyond rescue. A loud eruption of male laughter drew Christine’s attention to the other side of the room, where Jimmy was slapping Erik on the back; the American’s face was set in a wide smile and Reyer also looked pleased. Erik, recovering his poise with reassuring speed, reached up to the violin case that lay on a high shelf, withdrawing the precious Stradivarius that was one of his most prized possessions. Jimmy whistled as he regarded the expensive instrument; Reyer took it carefully, examining it with an expert eye, before handing it back to its owner, who touched its gleaming wood almost reverently. Erik’s long white fingers plucked at the strings, testing whether the violin had fallen out of tune, and turned the keys, making minute adjustments. Apparently satisfied, he lifted it and set it beneath his chin; with his free hand he took up the bow, teasing out a few slow, beautiful notes. Seeing that Christine was watching, Jimmy rounded the piano and made her a low bow.
“Would you honour us with a song, fair Daae?” he asked, extending a hand. Behind him Reyer was taking a seat on the piano bench.
She glanced at Theodora, who was looking a little uncomfortable sitting so close to a disgruntled Madame Giry. “If Teddy will join me.”
Relieved, Teddy eagerly bounced to her feet, sweeping across to stand in the bend of the grand piano that dominated the room. Beside her diminutive figure Christine felt like a giant despite not being overly tall herself; as Teddy leaned on the richly-pattered throw that covered the piano lid Christine drifted back towards the keyboard, hovering at Monsieur Reyer’s elbow. The musical director beamed at the sight of her.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Daae! You have been a most charming hostess this evening, most charming,” he said brightly, and Christine found herself wondering exactly how much he had had to drink. “Erik has been kind enough to invite me to your wedding; I would be delighted to accept, absolutely delighted.”
Christine could not help but smile back, and was glad he was in such an affable mood. She and Erik had discussed the guest list for the wedding proper, intending to keep it very select, inviting only those to whom they felt close. After the events of the past few weeks that circle had inevitably widened to include James and Theodora but it was still painfully small. Christine had no family living and Erik claimed none as his own; while it was natural that Meg would be her bridesmaid, Christine knew that she could hardly ask Madame Giry to give her away. It would be ludicrous to approach Raoul, even had he been in town, and the only other man with whom she had more than a passing friendship was Erik. To ask her fiancé to give her away to himself was the stuff of farce. They had gone round and round in circles until the perfect solution had come to her as an epiphany in the middle of the night, an idea she had taken to Erik the next morning and one of which he wholeheartedly approved. Hesitantly, as Reyer shuffled the music Erik handed him, Christine said,
“Monsieur, may I ask you something?”
Reyer looked up at her in surprise. “Of course, my dear Mademoiselle, of course.”
“You have known me a long time, Monsieur; you may call me Christine,” she told him, and, taking a deep breath, added, “I was wondering... well, Erik and I both were, actually... would you... could you perhaps... would you be willing to walk down the aisle with me, to give me away?”
“You... you wish me to take the place of your father?” he asked quietly, sharp little eyes fixed on her face as though searching for a sign that she might be joking.
Christine nodded. “I would be honoured if you would say yes.”
“Honoured? My dear, dear Mademoiselle Christine, it is I who will be honoured.” Reyer’s eyes watered and she thought for a moment that he was about to cry, but he recovered himself just in time. He took her hand, holding it between both of his. “Thank you,” he said seriously. “It means so much that you have chosen me to perform so important a task.”
“Thank you for agreeing,” Christine replied. “I know that my father would be glad I have a friend such as yourself to give me away in his stead.”
Reyer nodded, almost overcome once again. He patted her hand. “I met your father once, you know, when he came to the Populaire to give a recital. He was a true virtuoso and a most gentle, lyrical soul. It is a shame he is not here to see you wed.” He blinked once or twice, and a moment later, straightening in his seat he became businesslike, back to the Reyer she knew. Withdrawing his hold after a brief encouraging squeeze of her fingers, he shuffled through the music before him. “Now, what do you wish to sing? Something from Die Fledermaus? Hannibal? The Mikado?”
A grin touched Christine’s lips as she shook her head. Reyer had a love for the English comic operettas but she knew how Erik hated them, regarding the work of Messieurs Gilbert and Sullivan as ridiculous nonsense. “No, I think I have had enough of Adele for one week. Something simple... Gentil Coquelicot.”
“That is a children’s song,” the musical director pointed out.
“But a pretty tune,” she countered, and with a familiar huff that was known and feared by the company of the Opera Populaire he reluctantly agreed. Trying not to giggle, Christine all but skipped to Erik’s side; standing on tiptoe she whispered in his ear, “Monsieur Reyer has agreed to give me away!”
A smile spread across his face. “And I have asked James if he will act as my best man.”
“It’s actually going to happen,” Christine said breathlessly. “We’re actually going to get married.”
“Did you doubt it?” he asked, eyes dancing.
“Never. But now that other people are involved and we’ve decided on a date... it all seems so real. I’m scared,” she confessed.
“I’m not,” Erik told her. She stared at him in amazement, remembering their conversation of only days ago, and his reaction to the thought of having children. For several moments she had expected him to faint clean away, or have a heart attack on the spot.
“You’re not?” she repeated incredulously.
“No.” He paused, and confided with a worried expression, “I’m terrified. Can you not hear my knees knocking?”
“I wondered what that noise was.” Christine muffled her giggles behind her hand.
“Excuse me, lovebirds,” Teddy said loudly, interrupting. She looked at the two of them expectantly. “Are we singing tonight? We can all go home if you’d like a little privacy...”
With a cough, Erik turned away, raising the violin once more. Christine opened her mouth to remind him to be careful of his ribs but changed her mind when she saw how happy he looked to have the instrument in his hands. With a curtsey to Theodora, who returned it with a swish of her peach satin skirts, she rounded the piano and took her place by the Prima Donna’s side. As she stood there, listening to Reyer’s introduction, her gaze roamed around the room, falling in turn upon her companions. There was the musical director with his striped poplin waistcoat and perfectly-trimmed little moustache that bristled when he was angry; Jimmy leaning lazily against the bookshelves, brandy glass in hand; Madame Giry watching proceedings with her sharp eye for detail, her arm around Meg, who rested her head on her mother’s shoulder like a child, tired after a long day of rehearsals; Teddy comically draping herself over the piano lid like a cabaret chanteuse; and last but not least there was Erik, trying not to smile at Teddy’s antics or look at the way her corset was pushing her cleavage to the fore as she leaned towards him with a sultry pout.
Christine found herself smiling, her heart full. For the first time in many months she felt content. The two bar introduction came to an end and she lifted her voice. It was a simple song, little more than a nursery rhyme, but here and now it would do.
I went down to my garden
To gather some rosemary...
