Chapter 22
I’d never heard screaming like that.
Screaming like an animal wounded and mad with fear.
Screaming like a soul ripped from its body.
Screaming like the world was ending.
Screaming because it had.
There was so much screaming—hundreds of voices, including mine, joined together in howls of fright and despair. I feared it would never end. We would be trapped in this seething darkness until the trumpets of Judgment Day sounded. Only they would be loud enough to silence these screams.
But then came the fire.
And a new kind of screaming began.
I woke in silence.
There was just enough light glowing around a set of drawn curtains for me to see that I was not in my apartment.
My head swam as I sat up, and I could feel the muscles along my back protest with their sudden use.
My eyes were lined with crusted sleep so thick it hurt to rub away.
Despite the soft floral scent filling the rest of the room, here in this unfamiliar bed lay something fetid and rank.
It smelled of old sweat and smoke. It smelled of fear.
I twisted my neck, sniffing my shoulder, then recoiled.
The smell was me.
I glanced about the room as I stretched, turning on a gas lamp as I tried to place where I was. I had no memory of arriving here. Panic bubbled within me. Had Erik abducted me once more?
But when the bedroom door opened, it was Raoul who came in, his face drawn and worried, and I nearly sobbed with relief.
“Christine!” he exclaimed, and hurried to the side of the bed. “She’s awake! Madame Henry, come quickly! She’s awake!”
The housekeeper, dressed in a dark-blue skirt and a white apron, bustled in, carrying a tray laden with a pot of tea and an assortment of small glass bottles. “Good to finally see you up, mademoiselle,” she said, greeting me as she busied herself at a table on the far side of the room.
“It’s so good to see your eyes open,” Raoul confessed, taking my hand and bringing it up to his lips. He clasped it carefully, as though I were made of delicate glass he was terrified could break. “How are you feeling? What can I do for you?”
“I’m all right, I think.” My mouth was dry, and my hair hung loose, its waves tangled from sleep. I noticed I wore a long linen nightgown, far nicer than anything I’d ever owned. “Where am I?”
“Home. My home. In Faubourg Saint-Germain. After the…incident, I brought you here,” he explained. “I had to know you were safe. I had to keep you…safe.”
I rubbed the side of my head and winced when my fingers touched a swollen lump across my temple. “What happened?”
“You fainted. Your head struck the stage, and, oh, Christine, it was such a ghastly sound. You’ve been asleep for days. Do you…do you remember that?”
When I shook my head, my vision blurred, momentarily doubling everything.
“Do you remember anything?”
“The chandelier…” I murmured, trying to piece together my memories of that night. They were like shards of a broken mirror. Each one had to be handled carefully to keep myself from getting cut. “And Carlotta…and screaming…and…”
I focused on him, noting how terrible and raw he looked.
His face was ashen. His usually pomaded hair sprang wild in a dozen directions, and he smelled nearly as bad as I did.
I’d never seen him in such a state, and I felt my heart swell, ready to do whatever I could to make him smile.
I reached out and cupped his tearstained cheek.
“And I remember you…on the roof…You said you loved me.”
He nodded encouragingly. “When the chandelier fell, I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been so scared before, Christine. I…” His voice broke, and I was stunned to see new tears wet his lashes. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”
“Is everyone else all right?” I tried to remember the chandelier dropping. There’d been so much running. So many screams. “Were there any…was anyone under the chandelier when it fell?”
Raoul’s face grew pained. “Yes.”
“Are they…” I didn’t want to finish the question.
He only nodded, and we sat together in tormented silence until the housekeeper brought over tea.
“You’ll feel much better after you drink this,” she promised, pushing the cup and saucer into my hands. “Monsieur le Vicomte sent his own physician to look after you.” Her voice lifted with pride as if pleased to work for such a compassionate employer.
“That was very kind,” I said, trying to catch Raoul’s eye.
He smiled, looking impossibly tired and wrung out. “Could you leave us for a moment, Madame Henry? I will make certain Miss Daaé finishes her medicine.”
With a bob of her head, the housekeeper hurried out of the room. The door closed with a soft click.
“Something else happened,” Raoul continued once we were alone.
“Something I don’t think you knew about before…
There was a stagehand who…” He sighed heavily.
“There was an accident in the fly loft. One of the men became caught in the lines and fell. It happened while we were on the roof. Richard and Gilles told me after…well, after everything. They don’t believe it was related to the chandelier business, just a… just a tragic…”
“Accident,” I supplied, and the word felt hollow. How many accidents could befall a single theatre in one night? “Do you know who it was?”
His brow creased as he dredged up the name. “Buquet, I think. Joseph Buquet.”
I took in a sharp breath. I’d never liked the flyman, but I didn’t wish him ill. I couldn’t imagine the crew without him on it.
“Did they…did they say how it happened?”
Raoul nodded. “Several of his men admitted that he’d been drinking, rather heavily, before the performance began. They said he stumbled and became tangled in the ropes.”
I winced, and Raoul mercifully fell silent.
“What happens now?” I whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“With…with the opera, with the company?”
“Oh…” He frowned. “I suppose productions will be suspended for quite some time. The repairs are certain to be massive. Richard was already dancing around the subject of future donations.”
A strange sensation began to flutter in my chest. Without a theatre, there would be no performances.
Without performances, there would be no reason to have so many people on the payroll.
Management wouldn’t give money to dancers who weren’t dancing, nor singers who had nowhere to sing.
The crew would surely be kept on as extra hands, assisting in the rebuilding, but the artists…
I couldn’t picture any of us swinging a hammer or hoisting heavy bags of plaster.
We were—I was—out of work.
Raoul seemed to realize this at the same time I did. He took the cup from my hands and set it on the bedside table, leaving it untouched and forgotten.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began. “Do you remember when we went to La Closerie de Lilas?”
I nodded mutely, my mind too wrapped in the immensity of my troubles to listen to him just then. I had no income. There was a bit of savings, but nothing much. Not enough for rent. Not enough to get by on. Not enough for…anything, really.
What was I to do?
There were other theatres, of course. Though none were as illustrious as the Populaire, I could audition somewhere else and work there until the opera reopened.
But if they didn’t cast me…if I couldn’t secure a role…
Perhaps there were other things I could be skilled at. A shop assistant or a seamstress. After years of sewing ribbons on pointe shoes and mending my own clothing, I knew my way around a needle and thread.
My stomach flipped, feeling tight and miserable.
It all seemed so hard.
“What do you think, Christine?” Raoul asked, staring at me with a look of such hopeful anticipation I could tell he’d had to repeat himself.
“I’m sorry. About what?”
“About getting away for a bit. Without all your rehearsals and obligations, we could spend the rest of the summer together. We could go to Deauville, if you like. Stay at one of those big houses along the shoreline. Separate bedrooms, of course,” he added quickly when he noticed my startled expression.
“That sounds lovely, truly, Raoul,” I began. “I…I wish I could.”
He tilted his head. “But with the opera closed, and with everything we said out on the roof…there’s nothing to keep you from it, from me, from us together.”
I swallowed, feeling ridiculous that I had to say it aloud. “I…I couldn’t begin to afford such a trip.”
“Oh, Christine.” His tone was wounded, as if I’d offended him somehow. “I would handle all of that, obviously,” he said, waving his hand as if such a sum was no great matter. I supposed, for him, it wasn’t.
“But my apartment here, my other expenses. Raoul, I have to work. I can’t…I can’t not work.”
He blinked, the idea wholly foreign to him.
“I’m certain Gilles and Richard won’t abandon you all.
” His eyes brightened. “I shall speak to them about it at once. I’m sure, as the patron, I can convince them.
And besides…once we return from our holiday…
perhaps you’ll no longer be burdened with such worries. ”
My breath caught. Had I somehow misinterpreted his words? It sounded as though he was suggesting…“Raoul, did you just propose?”
He beamed and shrugged.
He shrugged!
“No. Not exactly. Not yet.” He let out a laugh. “Christine Daaé, when I propose to you, it’s not going to be in a spare bedroom.”
When…When!
“What do you say?” he pressed. “Come to Deauville. We’ll get away from all…all of this. I think it would do both of us a world of good.”
“But what about…” I was unable to pick one single problem to voice. There were so many. Dozens and dozens of them. Weren’t there? “Won’t people talk?”
He frowned. “Are you worried about that sort of thing?”
It felt silly to say I was. Especially if he truly intended to propose.
Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny! Proposing to me!
I could hardly believe it.
It felt so grand and wondrous, a fairy tale come to life. Here was my noble, handsome prince, swooping in to save me, pledging to love me, forever and ever, until death did us part.
Raoul took my hand in his and pressed an ardent kiss to its palm.
“You stole my heart all those years ago, Christine, and I’ve never wanted it back.
I know, in your gentle hands, it’s been safe.
Let me keep you safe now. Let me take care of you.
You know I would do anything for you. Always.
” He squeezed my fingers. “Will you come with me?”
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself.
Everything was happening so fast. Too fast, if I was being honest, but it seemed foolish to worry about that.
The tragedy at the opera had shown me just how unexpected life could be.
Why shouldn’t we run to our joys? I had no doubt that a summer holiday with Raoul would be nothing but bliss. What was there to hold me back?
I had no parents to disapprove, no job to report to. And my Angel…my Angel was no more. My Angel had never been. It had only ever been Erik, and I could not be expected to uphold a promise to a madman.
Slowly, shyly, I lifted Raoul’s hand and repeated the kiss he’d given me. “Anywhere you go, let me go too.”
His grin was as bright as the sun. “Oh, Christine, this will be…this will be everything. We’ll leave as soon as the doctor says you’re safe to travel.”
The immensity of everything we’d have to do before then was overwhelming. I’d need to pack and speak with my landlord…
“I’ll take care of it all,” Raoul promised when I voiced my concerns.
I settled back into the pillows, my relief palpable. “But first, there’s one thing I’ll need to do on my own.”