Ask me questions about Erik, Raoul, music… http://www.formspring.me/askMlleDaae
monsieurlefantome:
“And at any rate, it is closer to the opera house and therefore safer, and there would be ample room for students.” Despite himself, Erik made a face. The idea of becoming a tutor for anyone other than Christine – and their daughter; one way or another, he would teach her something about music, somehow – was not a very appealing one. All the same, they had agreed that it was for the best, and those savings would not necessarily last them forever. He, too, had to do his part to support his family, did he not? And Christine could not simply continue to lie and say her husband was an invalid, especially if he were to come to her performances…
Christine resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Erik: the edge to his voice suggested that although his tone was soft, he was far from calm at present. Stubborn, stubborn man! She buried her face in her hands and groaned. She was going to end up backing down, wasn’t she? “I know we are not short of money, but what if…what if I don’t get in to the Opera at first? I will have to audition, and I am so out of practice…what of they don’t like my voice?” In spite of everything, the wraith of self-doubt still hung in Christine’s mind. Her faith in her own ability had been bolstered by Erik back at the Garnier, in the days when he had been her ‘angel of music’…in fact, at that gala she had sung as if her Angel had been the only one in the room, otherwise she would have utterly lost her nerve!
Erik’s grimace at the mention of students did not escape her notice, and she suppressed the urge to giggle: however unhappy he was about having to teach, they must make an income some how…at least until she could start to being in her own income as a singer. “I’m sure that your students will be excellent, Erik…although I must say I would rather like to see you attempt to teach the tone-deaf daughter of a count!”
Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, she sighed. “As you wish Erik, we will take the one closer to the opera.” She must try to see the good side: she wouldn’t have to travel so far, and they would be close to whatever amenities Lovisa might need. The matter was settled.
(Source: mlledaae)
monsieurlefantome:
“The world’s finest musician,” he echoed, a humorous smile playing on his lips. He was that, wasn’t he? If there was one sin Erik was guilty of above all others, it was certainly pride. “Well, my dear, it does not seem fitting that the husband of the world’s finest opera singer would deny her this, does it? If you wish to go to Stockholm, I do not see why we should not, so long as we are careful.” What he would do there was another matter. He could not exactly take up residence beneath this opera house, be its opera ghost. No, he had no real desire for that life now that he had Christine – and Lovisa. Lovisa. Though he knew she had no concept of what they were discussing, she seemed thrilled by the idea of going to Stockholm all the same.
“The matter appears to be settled,” he added, touching the little girl’s downy black curls with his free hand.
Erik agreed to her ideas with a readiness that took her aback – she had been expecting some disagreements at least, especially concerning the fact that she was still, technically, a wanted man. But had his crimes spread as far as Sweden? She blushed at his praise – world’s finest opera singer indeed! “I think perhaps your love causes a bias towards my talents, my dear…” she teased, a smile lighting up her features. The future was starting to look brighter by the minute. Even little Lovisa, unable to comprehend her parent’s discussion, appeared to be delighted. Christine felt a surge of tenderness as she watched Erik gently brush his fingers over Lovisa’s soft curls. In the past few months she had grown so rapidly, and it was hard to tell from day to day who she resembled more: Christine, or Erik. She certainly had her mother’s dark curls and pale skin, but she had Erik’s strange, luminous eyes and of course there was the…strange part of her face which she had inherited from him. But, as with mothers the world over, Christine thought her daughter the most adorable little girl in the whole world.
* * *
Christine rubbed gently at her temples, surveying the stacks of papers in front of them as they sat at their kitchen table. Lovisa was fast asleep in her crib, unaware that only a few feet away her parents were arguing in hushed tones. A month had passed since they decided to move to Stockholm, and how they were deep in the midst of choosing a new home. As was typical, they both had very different ideas about what they wanted their new abode to be. They had narrowed it down to two apartments, both large and spacious. One was near the Opera, the other rather more on the outskirts of the city. One was grand, almost palatial, the other plain and unassuming. And, as usual, both of them were stubbornly refusing to give any ground. “You are being unreasonable Erik!” Christine pouted. “It would be much better to live slightly away from the main populous, and it is much cheaper. I know it isn’t as…luxurious as the one you like, but do we really need that? Can we even afford it?”
(Source: mlledaae)
monsieurlefantome:
His mask was different, and Christine had certainly gone through her fair share of changes – though Erik, at least, would always be able to see through to the girl she had once been underneath her new, more mature façade. And with a child…well, perhaps there was nothing at all to worry about. Surely if Erik kept his head down (both literally and figuratively), and if Lovisa was with them, they would be ignored. After all, who would think of depriving a little child of her papa?
Christine felt a flicker of hope in her stomach - he hadn’t said no, and had asked where she had in mind…if there was a time to tell him of her ideas, then his appeared to be as good as any. “Well…” she began, “I…was thinking perhaps of…Stockholm?” Plunging on before she could lose her nerve, Christine kept talking. “I…I miss performing, Erik. After everything that happened with us at the Garnier I never thought I would but…singing and performing appear to be as big a part of my soul as music. I love you, and I love Lovisa, but…but I want to be on stage again. Being a wife, being a mother…it isn’t enough. It would be as if you were asked only to be a husband and father, with no music or composition of your own. I know that you would never be able to stand it!” She sighed. “It’s all I dream about at night, you know…last night I dreamt of being Marguerite in Faust again.” Christine paused for a moment, trying to weigh up her husband’s reaction. Was he angry with her? Displeased? “I have been doing a little reading on the subject, and they say that the Kungliga Operan is the finest in all of Sweden…would it not be fitting that the wife of the world’s finest musician should grace that stage?” Perhaps it was a desperate gambit, but appealing to Erik’s ego could never go far wrong…
On her husbands lap, Lovisa laughed and clapped delightedly - apparently she approved of this plan, even if she was far to young to understand what her parents were talking about.
(Source: mlledaae)
monsieurlefantome:
And their own bedroom. Erik had never known he would long so desperately for a good night’s sleep, or that he would desire nothing more than, once in a while, to have his wife to himself. Of course, he had never suspected anything would stand in between him and either of those things. “I doubt there is one to be found in this village,” he said absently, momentarily distracted by Lovisa’s fascination with the ring that had once been all but forced onto her mother’s hand. She kept trying to tug it off, but God only know what she would try to do with it if she succeeded. “Would you be willing to part with your friend, my dear?” He would certainly not miss Elina Orgen.
As was becoming usual, the moment Lovisa was with Erik she suddenly didn’t have a care in the world. Erik, laying down his quill to hold her steady (for she was an adventurous little madame, even at her tender age) met with approving noises and contented babbling. Christine tried not to frown: if the situation was reversed, Lovisa would be crying and wriggling for all she was worth to be off her lap. But with Erik she sat happily, gurgling and wrapping a now-chubby little hand (goodness, hadn’t put on weight fast these last few months?) around Erik’s almost skeletal forefinger.
He was at least nodding in agreement that their current living arrangements were not working for them…Lovisa would be needing a room of her own soon, and whilst the two-roomed cottage had suited them just fine after their flight from France, it was now abundantly clear that this was not the place for them to settle. Christine was feeling more and more claustrophobic by the day, she needed space of her own…whilst Erik at least had the piano to lose himself in, Christine had nothing – every space in their home was occupied by the paraphernalia of her family. It was most certainly time for a change. She thought about her diary, about her wish to perform again…would this be a bad time to bring it up? Erik was saying that there would probably be nothing to suit their needs in the village…”I would miss Elina…” she began, “…but I would be happy to move away. I can always visit, after all.” She paused for a moment, fiddling with her wedding band. “What would you say about moving somewhere a little more…populated?”
(Source: mlledaae)
monsieurlefantome:
So caught up was he in trying to come up with the next set of notes that he did not pay any mind when Lovisa began to sob – again. Only Christine’s accusing voice finally made him look away from the page upon which he had been writing. He spied the tearful little girl, and then Christine’s stern expression, and had the decency to look abashed. Christine had asked him to keep an eye on her, had she not? What he said, however, was, “I must have some time to compose, my dear.” This much was true, although Erik could spend his entire day doing nothing but composing and still wish to stay up well into the night doing so. One could not say Erik was not a devoted man. Still, he could not help but feel a twinge of guilt as he watched his daughter cry, and thought inevitably of how much better a father Raoul de Chagny would have made. “She is not hurt?”
Erik was looking rather stunned - had he even been aware that Christine was not in the room? He was trying hard to be a good husband and father, and she knew that the strain this put on his still rather sombre temperament sometimes was close to unbearable.
Christine felt a pang of guilt as Erik looked up at her from his composition – he looked so tired, and all he had wanted today was a little time to compose. It was hardly his fault that his daughter’s insatiable curiosity about the world was leading her to bump in to things…besides, wasn’t that normal for a child of her age? She sighed. “ No, no…she will be fine. I’m sorry Erik, I know how little time you get to compose these days.” Seating herself next to him on the arm of the chair, she sat in silence for a moment as he continued to scribble notes on the manuscript in his rather scrawling hand. How, she wondered, had anyone ever been able to read those notes he sent back in the opera house? The page looked like a spider had bathed in ink and then run across it!
In her arms, Lovisa began to squirm: all tears apparently now forgotten, she was reaching out in the direction of her father’s voice and babbling ‘papa’ at him. Christine could not help but feel a little resentful – despite the fact that she spent so much time with Lovisa, playing with her and comforting her, she still seemed to prefer Erik’s company to her own. Giving up the struggle at last, she deposited her on Erik’s lap, heedless of the fact he was still trying to write. “We need a bigger house, Erik…one with a music room for you, where you can compose. And…” She bit her lip thoughtfully, not entirely sure how to phrase her next statement. “…and one where we have a bedroom to ourselves.” Despite herself, she blushed.
20th November 1881
Today has been an especially trying day. Lovisa begins to cut her teeth (four are through already!), and all night and day she wails from the pain. I cannot help but pity her, but having so little sleep in certainly not doing either of her parents any good! My eyes are perpetually closing throughout the day and Erik has been in several most disagreeable tempers.
Erik has made me promise that soon I will ask Elina to babysit for us so we may have a night that is ‘uninterrupted by constant screaming’…although I get the distinct impression he has no plans for us to get a good night’s sleep that night! Poor Erik – he tries to throw himself in to his music, but the louder he plays the louder she cries, until I fear I shall go quite mad from the din between the two of them! Lovisa has also begun toddling now, and her curiosity about the world around her is in no way dimmed by the fact that she cannot see it. Just the other day I discovered that she had opened the clasps on Erik’s violin case – thank goodness I managed to get it out of her hands in time, or god only knows what she would have done! She has even begun to learn her first words…I thought Erik would die of shock when she said ‘papa’ for the first time! She has not quite got the hang of ‘maman’ yet…so far I am called mama. Close enough, I suppose!
As for myself…recently I have found myself growing so discontented with country life. I miss the stage, I miss performing…I thought perhaps I would be contented as a wife and mother, and indeed I am not unhappy as either. But…I miss the freedom, the rush that singing bought to be. Erik and I are looking to move to a larger house soon (for Lovisa is in need of a bedroom of her own, and God only knows her parent would certainly like to have exclusive use of their own!), and I want to somehow bring up the idea of perhaps moving to Stockholm and beginning my career anew -
Christine’s train of thought was suddenly disrupted by the sound of a crash coming from the other room, shortly followed by Lovisa’s voice wailing plaintively. Rushing to the other room, she saw her daughter in a heap by the piano, clutching her head. Sat on the piano chair was Erik, lost as usual in composition. In fact, so caught up was he that he hadn’t even noticed that his own daughter had just walked straight in to the piano. Picking Lovisa up, Christine began to soothe her tenderly before shooting Erik’s back a rather accusing glance. “You are aware you were supposed to be watching her, aren’t you?”
monsieurlefantome:
Jo, do you want me to wrap this latest thread up and let you start the new one, or shall I go ahead and start the new one right now?
{ooc} I’m more than happy for you to wrap it and start the next if you like? I owe you 2 threads to start then :) I’ll be home in 2 hours. Whee!
monsieurlefantome:
“My dear, you mustn’t cry,” he said, and suddenly his voice was surprisingly thick. He touched her face with one hand, brushing his cool thumb across the tear tracks upon her cheek. “Perhaps – they could be mistaken; and she is young, yet. She may surprise us. She does, after all, have a very remarkable mother.” That said, Erik kissed his wife’s brow with great tenderness. He drew both Christine and their daughter to him, wrapping his arm about the former’s waist and then the other protectively around Christine’s shoulder, and thus Lovisa as well. “And a rather remarkable father, all things considered,” he added with as haughty a tone as he could muster in that moment.
Christine hated herself for crying, for being so weak when her daughter obviously needed her. And how many times had Erik had to bear witness to her tears? There was a time when she thought she did nothing but cry, the worst being the night of Don Juan: dragged down to the fifth cellar, forced in to that wedding dress…it was a memory she tried not to dwell on: after all, what good could possibly come from remembering it? But it still sometimes surfaced, especially the moment where she had had to leave her room, tears streaming down her face, for him to lace the back up for her.
But that was then, not now: back then he had appeared to look on her tears with indifference, but at this moment he was gently wiping them away, kissing her brow and drawing her close to him; wrapping his arms around her as if to protect her from the whole world. Erik’s voice was thick with emotion, and he sounded almost close to tears himself. Christine laid her head against her husband’s chest and sniffled pathetically, trying to stop the fresh flow of tears that threatened. Remarkable? Her? “Do…do you really think so?” She smiled weakly: he was right, Lovisa had a very remarkable father indeed. “Yes, she really does…”
Lovisa was squirming now, obviously rather unhappy at being sandwiched between her parents. It was time she was put down for a nap anyway, so pulling away from Erik reluctantly Christine went to settle the little infant amongst the blankets of her crib. As she did so, the melody of the song she had sung for her husband earlier that day echoed in her mind, and Christine began to sing, softly at first. When Lovisa didn’t begin her usual protests, Christine grew slightly louder, bolder…and Lovisa, appearing to look in the direction of the noise, laughed delightedly for the very first time.
monsieurlefantome:
“I see,” he said finally, but he had still not had adequate time to comprehend this news when Christine reentered the room with the very child in question. There was a horrible silence, and no one seemed willing to meet anyone else’s eyes. Before Elina could go to Christine herself – as she clearly wanted to – Erik crossed the room. It was their child, and if anyone would break the news to Christine, it might as well be him.. God only knew she had been through plenty of hell up until this point, mostly thanks to him. “Mon ange…” His voice was low, soothing; the sort of voice he had once used as her Angel. “The good doctor informs me that…Lovisa is blind.” Erik looked away from his wife, down at their little child, whose face he could not see, and he felt a great sorrow well up within him. He did love her, his petite ange, despite her uselessness. Was it his fault – his wickedness, his face – that she had been thus afflicted? Surely the Vicomte de Chagny’s daughter would not have to suffer this fate.
Blind. Lovisa was blind.
Christine blinked a few times, trying to get the thought in to her head. Yes, there had always been something…unusual about their child, but…but how could they possibly know? Surely, this was some mistake…a misdiagnosis perhaps? “No…” she said, shaking her head, “no…there must be some mistake?” She looked up at Erik, her eyes pleading. At that moment she was just like a child, begging to be told that it wasn’t so.
Holding Lovisa closer to her, Christine began to cry: her own child would never even know her mother’s face! Yes, perhaps she would never have to know that she looked…different from other children, but what if the day came where other children teased her? How could they possibly explain…? Not to mention that she would struggle to master all the most basic skills that children learn from a young age: walking, feeding and dressing herself…she would always require more attention and depend more on her parents for even these essential things.
This was her fault, it must be! If she hadn’t run that day, if she hadn’t bought her child in to the world when she was not ready…perhaps this would not have happened! Lovisa’s blindness was a punishment intended for her, she was sure of it.
Alrik and Elina sttod uncomfortably by the hearth, watching the scene before them. Alrik, diplomatic as ever, decided that now would be a good time for them to excuse themselves. “Erik, Christine…we will be be along tomorrow, and we can discuss your options for Lovisa then.” Tugging gently on his wife’s arm (for she clearly wanted to stay and comfort her friend!), Alrik lead Elina out of the front door and down the winding path to the village, leaving the little family in peace.