Chapter 19 #3
The bubbles went straight to my head, dancing and effervescent and making me feel as lovestruck as I had the first time he’d told me this.
I’d fallen for him that day in the attic—hard—and it wasn’t until this moment, hearing those words again, that I realized how little my heart had ever recovered.
What would my life have been like if the Chagnys hadn’t left so soon after?
If Raoul’s letters had made their way to me?
I could so easily picture a world where our courtship had continued, where Father hadn’t died but had been there to watch it all, to see me fall in love, to walk me down a church aisle—
I stopped such thoughts before they could take root and grow. Wishing for something so pure and wondrous would only cause my heart further grief in the long run.
“I think I might remember that,” I said lightly instead, wondering if this counted as another lie. It certainly felt as if it should.
Raoul’s hand fell over mine, and his thumb played at the long row of pearl buttons at my wrist. Wretched gloves.
“You should know that’s still a lie.”
“I really hope that’s not a lie,” I confessed in a breathless rush.
My heart fluttered like the beats of a hummingbird’s wings, and all around us, the air changed, crystallizing like spun sugar.
Time stretched, and even though I knew there were hundreds of patrons and performers nearby, I couldn’t see anyone but Raoul.
“Call me on it,” he challenged.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
He leaned in so close that I could smell the anise on his breath. With a careful sweep of his hand, he brushed loose tendrils of hair over my shoulder so that he might whisper directly into my ear. “You know it’s not.”
His lips grazed the soft skin of my neck, and I startled back, checking to make sure that this wasn’t a joke, that it had not been part of the game.
His earnest expression confirmed it was neither.
“Christine, you know that I—”
“Raoul!” Marcel shouted from the far end of the table. “This one doesn’t believe us about the elephant!” He gestured to Jean-Luc.
“Well, take him up there and prove him wrong,” Raoul snapped, his eyes never leaving mine.
“We get better service when Monsieur le Vicomte comes along,” Marcel joked, and rose to his feet.
The other men followed suit.
“You ladies don’t mind if we take him for just a moment, do you?” Marcel asked, towering above Meg’s chair.
“If you’re not back in a true moment, we’ll be cancanning without you,” Meg flirted, smiling sweetly up at him.
Marcel grabbed at his heart, as if wounded. “We can’t-can’t miss that!” He tapped her nose, and they pulled Raoul from his seat.
He offered me a forlorn wave before joining their line as they disappeared into the elephant.
“Can you imagine how stuffy it must be in there?” I asked with a little shudder. “I mean…I understand why they go up there, but…” I trembled again. “I’d be so claustrophobic.”
Meg gestured for another round of champagne and flopped back into her chair. “I think I’m in love!”
I studied her quizzically. “With Marcel?”
“With this place! With this life! Look at where we are, Christine! Isn’t it magnificent?”
I tipped my head up, taking in the curtains and lights. A new act had come out: a group of five dancers, falling into split after split until the whole stage was nothing but a sea of ruffled petticoats. “I certainly never thought we’d be here.”
“You’re so lucky,” she mused, then paused as the waitress returned, swapping out the empty coupes for new ones, sparkling and filled to the brim. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help watching you two. I’ve never seen anyone so lovestruck!”
I felt the urge to protest, as if we were two young girls whispering over first crushes. “I’m not—”
“Not you,” she clarified. “Him! The way he was looking at you, Christine! Surely you noticed.”
I couldn’t stop my smile. “He was, wasn’t he?”
She nodded. “I feel like I’m watching Lisette and Philippe all over again. He’s already in love, and soon you will be too, and there’s going to be another wedding to plan.” She blew out a long breath of air before picking up her drink. “Maybe one day it will be my turn.”
“It will,” I said quickly, grabbing her hand. “It absolutely will. But I thought…Aren’t you happy being in the ballet? You’ve always dreamed of—”
“I dream of lots of things, Christine.” She shrugged. “But at the end of the day, this is what we all want, isn’t it?” She drank deeply. “An absurdly handsome man to dote on us, to care for us, to obsess over us?” Meg nodded again. “That’s the dream. The big one.”
We watched another troupe of girls prance onto the stage.
Their paillettes were bright and blinding, and they lulled me into a contemplative reverie, pondering Meg’s words.
Love was what all of us wanted at the end of the day.
A caring smile. A warm pair of arms to sink into. A sense of being complete and adored.
It was the big dream, the one that usurped all others. Ambitions and triumphs…wins and conquests…none of them really mattered much if there wasn’t someone to share them with.
As Raoul emerged from the elephant, I offered him a grin from across the courtyard, and my heart delighted as he waved to me with earnest enthusiasm.
The night had begun to twist with melancholy, but a single smile from him was enough to hold it at bay.
Meg leaned over to me, whispering quickly so that the men wouldn’t catch the last of our conversation as they returned.
“Don’t you worry about me, Christine Daaé.
Lisette might have her Jockey Club boy, and you might have your vicomte, but I’m going to get someone too. Someone grand. I can feel it.”
“You will,” I promised. “I know you will.”
“And he…whoever he is…is going to be so much more than any of this!” She let out a startling champagne hiccup before dissolving into giggles. “How are we ever going to get through rehearsal tomorrow?”