| The Wedding Thief ~ Chapter 11 |
| Raoul and his comrades floated along the subterranean lake for hours until at last they saw a light. Another boat seemed to be heading towards them, and the gendarmes grew excited at the possibility of some action. They assembled their weapons and aimed in the direction of the boat. Raoul squinted through the gloom, trying to make out the commander of the small vessel, and he hissed to the gendarmes to hold their fire. When at last the light grew strong enough to reveal the boat and its captain, Raoul cried out in shock. “Christine!!!” The former diva was struggling to pole the boat along as the Phantom had once done. But the night’s efforts had worn her out and she could barely do more than drift upon the lake. “Raoul!” she answered wearily. The Vicomte urged his oarsmen on, and soon he was beside Christine’s boat. He eagerly helped her into his vessel and hugged her tightly to him. “Are you all right?” he asked. “How did you escape? Did that monster harm you? I swear, I will have his head!” “Hush, Raoul,” Christine said softly. “The Phantom did not harm me, nor was he my captor.” She made a weak gesture towards the Phantom’s boat, and Raoul could see that a masked man was bound and gagged within. “Mon dieu!” he cried. “Who is that?” “Carlos del Travesio,” she sighed. “He was the villain who took me.” “But…” Raoul sputtered. “What about the Phantom?” “There is no Phantom of the Opera,” Christine said softly. “Not any more.” She cast a furtive glance back towards the darkness and offered a silent prayer of gratitude to Nadir. The Persian had arrived at Erik’s home just in the nick of time, and he had helped her to care for Erik. He had also reluctantly agreed to help her with her plan to deliver Carlos to the police. “Though I don't know if I approve of your methods, Miss Daae,” Nadir had said as they secured the unconscious Spaniard in the boat. “But then again, I was never one for mischief. Perhaps you and Erik are more alike than I dared to think.” Christine had smiled and thanked him profusely. Then she bade him to watch over Erik until she could return to him. “He will be convalescing at my flat on the Rue de Rivoli,” Nadir had said protectively, and he hastily scribbled his address on a piece of paper for her. “I know he will be anxious to see you. But please take care, Miss Daae! Do not give him any false hope.” “Have no fear,” she had said warmly. “I will be there.” Christine turned back to Raoul and breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad it’s all over,” she said softly. “I can imagine, my poor darling!” Raoul hugged her to him. Christine returned the hug, but was uncomfortable with Raoul’s pity. She glanced around at the other men in the boat, and saw that they were all regarding her with furtive glances. They all see me as a victim, she thought uneasily, and she quickly broke free from Raoul’s grasp. “Do not pity me, my friend,” she said boldly. “If anyone is to be pitied, it is Carlos. He is quite mad, you see.” She went on to explain the Spaniard's obsession with the Phantom, and how he had disguised himself as the Opera Ghost in order to blame the Phantom for her kidnapping. Then she spoke vaguely about her attempt to escape and how she had been able to trap and subdue the Spaniard, though she wisely omitted Erik's involvement in the tale. Raoul listened intently to Christine’s story, but he wondered if there were parts of the tale that she was withholding from him. He was tempted to press her for more information, but he decided that it might be better to wait until they were alone. “Pardon me, Mademoiselle Daae,” the captain of the gendarmes broke in. “But do you feel well enough to come and testify against this scoundrel?” “Of course!” Christine said with uncharacteristic strength. “I suppose that is an unpleasant necessity,” Raoul remarked. “But Christine, I must insist that you go to the hospital to see a doctor. You have been through quite an ordeal!” “Very well,” Christine said reluctantly. She thought of Erik and the time he would need to recuperate as well. “Perhaps that would be for the best.” * While Christine convalesced at the hospital, L’Epoque spread word of her story throughout all of Paris. At times, she was heralded as a heroine for the new age, a woman of immense courage who had been able to conquer her captor with her wit and charm. But in the same breath, there was the question of whether or not such a crafty woman could be trusted in polite society. Had she risked her virtue to attain her freedom? And would an honorable family like the Chagnys accept such a young woman into their household as the future Vicomtesse? Christine wanted to laugh at the public perusal of her character, but Raoul was outraged. “I can’t believe how they are defaming you!” he fumed. “They cite your triumphs one minute only to cast you back into the gutter the next!” “I never came from the gutter,” Christine said flatly, striving to keep the irritation from her voice. “No, but you know what I mean!” Raoul said as he paced nervously about her hospital room. “And after all you’ve been through! My poor dear! Oh, why can't they just leave you alone?!” Christine wrinkled her face at Raoul’s tirade and returned to perusing the newspaper before her. She was delighted to see that Carlos had been found guilty for kidnapping as well as many other criminal acts. Apparently, the Spaniard had built quite a wicked reputation and was going to be paying for it in prison. Christine smiled at the irony. Her captor had become a captive himself. “You know, we may never be able to show our faces in polite society again,” Raoul continued to rant. “We may have to leave Paris altogether!” “I thought that had been the plan to begin with,” Christine said bluntly. “Well, yes,” Raoul stammered. “But we weren’t being viewed so... dishonorably!” “No,” Christine smirked. “Instead, we were going to mock the social structure by getting married in such a grand fashion.” “And there was a level of respect to that!” Raoul said. “It was like the opera – huge and opulent, something worthy of a Vicomte and his bride-to-be.” “But now…” Christine prompted. “Well, we shall have to make other arrangements!” Raoul blustered. “You’re right,” Christine said with a weary smile. “Perhaps it might be wise to reconsider our intentions...” “Are you mad?!?” The Vicomte thundered, looking completely dumbstruck by the notion. “We’ve been through so much just to get to the altar!” “I know, but I need some time…” “And then to postpone the wedding!” Raoul scoffed. “I need some time to myself!” Christine cried out in frustration. Raoul stopped his pacing and looked at her in surprise. He couldn't believe that she was arguing with him, that she was thinking of delaying the wedding. But then he reminded himself that she was probably still a bit traumatized and was not quite herself yet. Christine watched Raoul's puzzled features, and she felt a bit guilty for her declaration. “I just need some time alone,” she continued softly. “Free from pressure and strife...” Raoul nodded, as if to say he understood, but Christine could tell he was masking his true feelings. “You should rest now,” he said paternally, and he strode to her bedside to place a kiss on her brow. “We can discuss this tomorrow.” “I don't want to, Raoul,” Christine said evenly. “I have been thinking about this for some time...” “But you're not thinking correctly!” Raoul sputtered. “What?” Christine gasped. “I mean...this has been such a difficult time for you....so many burdens for one so young!” “I am not a child anymore,” Christine asserted. “Well, of course you're not,” the Vicomte placated. Christine leveled her gaze at Raoul and allowed her strength to flow through her voice: “I’m glad you realize that, my friend, because I have been reluctant to acknowledge that fact myself. I have been so afraid to break the bonds of childhood, to confront those things that frighten and challenge me. But, Raoul, I realize now that I have been running away from my destiny.…” “What are you saying, Christine?” Raoul interrupted fearfully. “I’m saying that I want to be free! Free to make my own decisions, free to discover my own way!” “But you could do that as the Vicomtesse,” Raoul argued. “Could I really?” Christine asked in astonishment. “Or would that simply be another cage?” “I don't understand,” Raoul sighed irritably. “I thought this was what you wanted.” “I don't know if it was what I really wanted,” Christine said in earnest. “I was so confused... I thought it would be easier if you made my decisions for me. But now I find that I want to take matters into my own hands. I want to shape my life as I desire!” Raoul shook his head and tried to comprehend Christine's newfound independence, but he simply could not understand her rather modern point of view. Silence again fell between them as they each struggled to make peace with each other’s feelings. And at that moment, a nurse walked in to check in on Christine. “I’m sorry, Monsieur le Vicomte,” the young nurse said. “But we need to take Mam'selle Daae away from you now…” “Indeed,” Raoul remarked, furrowing his brow. “I’m sorry, Raoul,” Christine said gently. “Really, I am. But I believe this is for the best...” Raoul gave a curt bow and turned on his heel to leave the room. But he hesitated at the door and glanced back to look at her with longing in his eyes. “Just remember that I love you, and I hope you will recover soon." “Merci,” Christine said sincerely. The Victome inclined his head and left Christine alone with the nurse. Little did he know that it would be the last time he would ever see her again. * Erik recovered quicker than Nadir would have anticipated. In three days time, he was back to his usual self, and was soon pacing Nadir’s flat like a caged beast. “Erik,” the Daroga chided gently. “Please come and sit with me. You should not be exciting yourself so!” “I can’t sit still!” Erik explained anxiously. “Christine said she would come! But when?” “Soon,” the Persian soothed. “I saw her the other day at the hospital, and she was still of the same mind.” “But what did she say? How did she look? Was she in good health?” A small knock at the door interrupted the Phantom and he turned with a start. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Nadir said with a smile. The Daroga rose to his feet to straighten his suit-jacket, and Erik was quick to follow his example. The Phantom smoothed back his hair and touched his mask with trepidation, as he waited breathlessly for Nadir’s manservant, Darius, to announce their visitor. “Mademoiselle Daae is here to see you, gentlemen,” Darius demurred. Erik thought his heart would explode with joy, but he waited patiently for Nadir to accept the invitation. “Thank you, Darius,” the Daroga said. “Please show her in.” The servant bowed and gently ushered Christine into the small flat. The diva gave a lovely curtsey and accepted Nadir’s proffered hand. “So excellent to see you,” the Daroga said, bestowing a kiss upon her hand. “And in such good health!” “Thank you,” Christine murmured, but her eyes were fixed on Erik. She looked back to Nadir and offered a smile. “Thank you again, Monsieur, for keeping my love safe for me.” Erik’s chest filled with pride and he confidently strode toward his lady. His gloved hand reached for hers, and Christine gratefully entwined her fingers in his. The Phantom raised her fingers to his lips and gently turned her hand over to lay a sensuous kiss on her palm. Christine shivered with delight and reached out to caress the Phantom’s exposed cheek. Sensing the intimacy of the moment, Nadir quietly backed out of the room to leave the lovers alone. Erik and Christine gazed at each other in euphoric bliss until the diva brought her arms around her maestro and tempted him with bold kiss. The Phantom felt his knees grow weak with ecstasy, and he wrapped his arms around his beloved to return her kisses with unbridled passion. “Oh, Erik!” Christine sighed when they parted. “I have missed you so much!” “And I have missed you,” the Phantom said softly. His voice still moved her as no one could, and Christine closed her eyes to drink in the beauty of it. Erik caressed her cheek with a gloved fingertip and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. She enfolded him in her arms and plied him with kiss after kiss. The Phantom grew dizzy with delight, but he took hold of his senses and gently held her at arms’ length. “No, truly, Christine. I want to know your mind, your thoughts and your feelings...” He perused her face for a sign of the timid girl he had fallen in love with, and he worried that everything she had been through might have scarred her forever. But she stood before him with such a certain, clear gaze that Erik marveled at the new strength that emanated from her. Christine ackowledged his gaze with a shy smile. “I believe, my dear teacher, that we have a lifetime to tell our stories to one another.” The Phantom’s heart took flight at her implied meaning, and he swept her up into his arms to kiss her again. “So we do, mon cheri,” he said happily. “Ainsi il sera.” So it shall be. The End ~ Back to the Ghost's Story ~ |