Page 45 of Angel's Kiss
She sensed it when the audience let out their breath in relief. She did not care that she was about to prove them wrong, instead she reached into her soul, the way she had been taught by a genius who lived far beneath this stage, and sang out everything she felt.
“There once was a king of Thule who, faithful unto the grave, Kept in memory of his ladylove a vessel of chiseled gold,”
Marguerite paused, entranced by the memory of the man who had dared to kiss her hand. In two days, two men had done the same to Christine in such different places and ways. Yet it was only one who ignited the music in her soul. She looked at box five and sang out her soul to him.
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Erik had never seensuch a triumph in his theater. Between Carlotta’s downfall and the utter brilliance of Christine’s performance, there was no question now as to who the brightest star in the Opera firmament was.
Before the curtain even closed the audience was on their feet, and Erik with them. The other bows were rushed and cursory, the other principals giving way to Christine as she curtsied with tears streaming down her perfect face. Erik too. For pride. For joy. And for love.
There was nothing he wanted more than to leap from his box – the jump was not too far – onto the stage and snatch her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her properly and never stop, let her have every inch of his skin and scar. He wanted nothing but her, and every second of applause that delayed her return to him was torture, but seeing her joy and the adulation of Paris laid at her feet was also ecstasy.
At last he retreated into the hollow column that gave him access to his box and moved as quickly as he could through the walls and corridors towards dressing room thirteen. Soon he was behind the mirror, but he was not the only one waiting. Christine’s dresser, Julianne Bonet, was stationed inside and staring warily at the mirror.
“I’ll ask again: am I alone?” she spoke to the glass, much to Erik’s shock.
“Do you expect me to say yes?” Erik replied coolly and watched Julianne jump. “Did you have a question?”
“I have a declaration,” Julianne snapped back, straightening her spine. “I know you’re more human than all of this—” she gestured to the mirror “’—let’s on. I know you bleed and you hurt Christine before and somehow, she’s still part of whatever game you’re playing.”
“It’s not a game, my dear Mademoiselle—”
“I was not done, Monsieur!” Erik would have been annoyed if he was not so impressed. “If any harm should come to her, I don’t care how frightening or powerful you are, I will hunt you down and get her justice. I’ll keep my mouth shut as long as she seems happy, but if that changes, I will be your enemy.”
“Be at peace,” Erik replied when it was clear he could speak. “There is no one in the world more precious to me than her. I only wish to protect her and...cherish her.”
Julianne nodded and looked satisfied. She turned from the mirror and gathered up a gown from the wardrobe, the same violet confection Christine had worn at the New Year’s gala. Erik remembered the way she had blushed in it when she had taken it off before this very mirror, baring herself and her soul to her angel in penance for smiling at another man. The same boy who had intruded on her afterFaustbefore. Surely, he would not be there tonight. She had rejected him, hadn’t she?
Erik’s heart seized as he heard a commotion outside the doo. Christine entered with her arms full of flowers, a crowd of well-wishers on the other side of the door, and Armand Moncharmin right beside her. Erik sighed, relieved and annoyed.
“Ah, good, you’ll be ready,” Moncharmin said as he spotted Julianne with the dress.
“Monsieur, I’m very tired,” Christine protested.
“You won’t have to stay for long, I assure you, but your presence is required. As an employee and a principal in the company,” Moncharmin said meaningfully. “Many of the patrons were great admirers of Carlotta and may have been understandably upset by her suddenillness. Happily, they are quite taken with you now but as you can tell, their support can be fickle.” There was an unmistakable edge to the man’s voice.
Christine’s face began to harden in understanding. “I suppose it will be an excellent time to announce that I will be singing Gilda at theRigolettopremiere on Friday?” Erik grinned in pride at Christine’s shrewdness.
“Of course,” Moncharmin smiled. “It would delight me. I’ll leave you to change. Your escort should be here soon. I’ve discussed it with him. I have to find Richard.”
“My what?” Christine asked, but Moncharmin had already left.
“Looks like everything is going according to plan,” Julianne muttered as she pulled Christine behind her dressing screen. Erik was grateful for the modesty. He was already distracted enough. He caught the curious look Christine gave her friend. “I hope it’s all worth it. And that you know what you’re doing.”
“Julianne—” Before Christine could protest, the door sprang open again, and Christine yelped in modesty at the intruder. It was Robert Rameau, of all people, already dressed for the reception.
“Monsieur!” Julianne shouted. “There is a lady dressing!”
“Oh come come, it’s a theater and I don’t care,” Rameau brushed them off as Christine rushed to get into her gown. “I’ve come to escort you and make a proposal.”
“A proposal?” Christine stammered. Erik was intrigued. He knew exactly where Rameau’s inclinations and affections lay, and it was not with Christine, nor any other woman.
“I’m sure you’re aware of the many rumors about you, my dear, especially concerning the mysterious lover you claim not to have,” Rameau drawled as he took a seat at Christine’s vanity, stroking his goatee. Christine for her part looked dubious as Julianne finished her laces. “No one knows who it is that’s stolen you away from that Vicomte who keeps asking after you up and down.”
Now that made Erik’s fury rise and – was Christine blushing? Perhaps he needed to send a message to that entitled little fop.
“What is your point, Robert?” Christine asked, finally emerging from the screen, a vision in purple, like a crocus in the final days of winter.
