Chapter 28
I watched from my window seat as a barrage of snowflakes danced through the air, temporarily painting my little street white.
After spending most of December in Burgundy, I’d forgotten how quickly Paris turned everything to shades of muddled gray.
Already a horse and carriage had plowed through the accumulation, marring the clean slate with a set of hoofprints and a steaming mess of piss.
It was nice to be home.
Though I’d spent my every waking moment in Chagny becoming familiar with its pace and expectations and falling in love with its rustic charms, I still missed Paris.
I loved this time of year best, when holly and ivy wound round every streetlamp, when cheeks flushed bright with both the cold and the holiday merriment, and when the air was filled with the scents of roasting chestnuts and burnt sugar.
When Raoul had mentioned needing to go back to the city after Christmas, I’d jumped at the chance to join him. Time away from the estate—and his mother, with her endless lists of wedding preparations and vicomtesse training—would be a welcome reprieve.
Raoul had begged me to join him at the town house, but I’d hungered after a quieter alternative, wanting to structure my days however I saw fit, and had returned to my apartment instead.
Everything had happened so fast.
Our courtship and engagement.
My retirement.
Our wedding, planned for June.
I was dizzy with the speed of it, reeling at each change, and while I felt ready for my new life—mostly—it had been nice to fall back into the old status quo.
Though Raoul claimed most of my evenings, taking me on a parade of parties and dinners, I’d spent my days puttering about, doing what I pleased when I pleased.
A knock sounded, drawing me from my reverie, and I frowned, wondering who would want to brave the cold for so late a visit.
When I opened the door, there was Raoul, smiling merrily, his wool coat dusted with snowflakes.
“I didn’t expect you,” I said by way of greeting, and opened the door wider to usher him inside. “Weren’t you supposed to be meeting with Philippe?”
“That’s tomorrow night,” he said, breezing past me with a kiss on the forehead. Once inside, he turned and held out a curious silver object, presenting it with all the extravagance of a bouquet of roses. “Surprise!”
It wasn’t until he shoved it into my hands that I saw what it was and instantly recoiled. “Why would you give me this?”
It was a mask.
The domino was delicate and feminine, covered in glitter and spangled stars, nothing at all like the white shell Erik wore, and yet I couldn’t contain my revulsion. A ribboned stick was affixed to its side. I twirled it round, and uneasy dread bloomed in my stomach as I watched it spin.
“I spotted these in a shop window and thought them perfect for you.”
I looked away from the little face and noticed the large box Raoul held beneath one arm.
“For me?” I asked, unable to contain my disbelief. What use had I for a mask?
“For tonight,” he said, setting the box upon the counter. “Everyone is meant to wear one.”
The information sounded somewhat familiar and was obviously something I was meant to know, but I didn’t remember. Had Raoul mentioned something while we were at the estate? Had his mother? My cheeks flushed as I fretted over all the ways I might already be angering my future mother-in-law.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Raoul explained, seeing my confusion.
“Is it?”
I couldn’t decide if that surprised me or not.
Since returning from Burgundy, the world had slipped into a strange, liminal state.
Christmas was over, and the endless hours of the passing week had piled up in a monotonous haze.
Without a job to go to, without rehearsals or lessons, classes or coachings, days in Paris ceased to have individual meaning.
He let out a sigh, but it sounded more amused than put out. “The Masquerade Ball. At the Populaire?”
I’d entirely forgotten.
Every December, the opera hosted a grand fête to celebrate the passing of the old year while welcoming in the new.
There were performances and masques, long tables heavy-laden with roasted meats and gold-dusted desserts, and cases upon cases of champagne.
Everyone in the company was invited. Everyone was expected to attend.
Since that season of my life was now over, I hadn’t given the party another thought.
But Raoul, evidently, had.
I watched him take off his greatcoat to reveal a hussar military uniform, all gold trim and black beading. He gave me a flourished spin so wild that Madame Giry would have cracked his ankles with her walking stick if she’d been here to see it. “What do you think?”
“I think you look impossibly handsome,” I said, crossing over to give him a quick peck on the cheek and rub my hands up and down his epauletted arms. “But…we’re not really going to that, are we?”
His face fell, and I could immediately see I’d wounded him.
“Why wouldn’t you want to go? It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s your old company.”
“My old company,” I echoed, emphasizing the former connection. “Won’t people think it’s strange I show up when I’m no longer part of the opera?”
Raoul frowned in disagreement. “They’ll think nothing of the sort. It’s not as though you’ve given a formal resignation yet—there’ve been no productions to resign from—and I’m the opera’s patron. Which makes you an opera patron.”
“Eventually,” I allowed. I hadn’t considered how that would feel, giving time and financial assistance to the organization where I’d once used my artistic talents to shine.
“Soon,” he countered. “And we can use tonight to announce our engagement. It’s perfect, don’t you think? In front of all your friends!”
The idea filled me with a terror too acute to put into words. I could only shake my head.
“Christine,” he pleaded. “We have to tell people at some point.”
“But not tonight,” I said, taking his hands in mine. “Not there.”
Raoul reflected on this. “I suppose there should be a formal party for it. Mother would hate to be robbed of the chance to plan such a soiree.”
It pained me to agree.
“Let’s stay in tonight,” I suggested. “We’ve been out every evening this week, and it’s snowing and cold and—” I could see that my excuses were falling on deaf ears. “And I haven’t anything to wear. I didn’t think we’d be attending, so I never secured a costume.”
“I thought of that!” Raoul cried, unmistakably pleased by his foresight. He gestured toward the box he’d brought in. “Go on! Go on! Open it!”
Inside the box was a mess of candy-colored sequins and tulle.
Silver stars were embroidered across blue and pink chiffon.
I didn’t know if I was meant to be a celestial princess or a starlit fairy, but it was the most extravagant dress I’d ever held.
The beading and appliqués were stitched to perfection.
The quality of silk was far nicer than anything I’d ever worn onstage.
It must have cost him an eye-watering amount, a king’s ransom, and he’d done it just for me. I felt dizzy with undeserving.
Raoul watched me with intense eyes. “It’s your costume,” he said needlessly. “For tonight.” His face fell, and uncertainty crept over his features. “Do you not like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, quick to reassure him that he’d done well, that my reticence had nothing to do with him. “It’s just…I don’t think I want to go to the party.”
“But it will be such fun! A masquerade for the ages. They’ll be speaking about this ball well into 1896!”
“But…I don’t…I don’t want to wear a mask.”
Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he understand why?
“Because of…” His shoulders slumped. “Because of him? Christine, he’s dead.
Gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t control what you do.
Surely that’s worth celebrating, is it not?
” He picked up the silver star mask I’d put down and offered it to me.
“Christine, what are you afraid of? It’s just a mask. ”
I could see the hope in his eyes, and I knew how badly he wanted me to say yes.
He wanted me to agree and put on the wildly expensive party gown he’d bought and go with him to the opera’s ball.
He wanted me to be all smiles and light, showing how blissful we were, how we had not a care in the world because we had each other and our love.
It was all he wanted. It was all he asked. How could I say no?
I took the mask from him and held it to my face. The glitter painted along the edges of the eyeholes nearly blinded me. Light reflected off the silver flakes, creating a dazzling filter over my vision. Everything looked bright. Everything seemed beautiful.
I offered Raoul my best smile and tried to ignore how shaky it felt.
“How do I look?”