Page 30 of Angel's Mask
“And who were youtalkingto?”
Christine gulped and Erik wondered how much Duval had heard. That could be a problem. “No one, Mademoiselle,” Christine answered.
Duval did not seem convinced, still scowling. “Well, come on then, do your job,” she ordered.
Christine rushed to obey as Duval stepped behind a silk screen to remove her street clothes. Erik was thankful for the display of modesty, though it made his mind once again return to Christine’s pointed lack of such compunctions...
“You, over here, tighten this corset before you get that monstrosity on me,” Duval barked. “I’m not just regular chorus you know, I’m Adèle Valerius’ understudy. The lead! I shouldn’t have the same costume as all the other peasants.”
Erik wondered how much time this woman spent around Carlotta since she clearly had learned how to be a terror from the diva. It said far too much about the standards Carlotta had set that even a second-rate understudy treated people so poorly.
“I don’t know, Mademoiselle,” Christine said nervously as she approached Duval. “Are you sure? About the corset?”
“What? Of course, I am.”
“It’s just, it looks quite tight already and if you cinch your waist anymore, how will you be able to maintain proper support for—”
“Are you giving me advice onmusic?” Duval demanded.
“I just thought—”
“You’re a damn dresser. You’re less than a servant, you don’tthink,” Duval said, and Erik clenched his fist. “Your job is to be invisible and silent and obey. So do your job and get out.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” Christine whispered, glancing at the mirror just long enough for Erik to see the tears in her eyes. It was absolutely unacceptable.
“Alas, if it were only your job to be silent, the chorus might be better in tune,” Erik said, letting his voice waft softly through the room. Duval jumped at the words, clutching her half-fastened costume to her chest.
“What did you say?!” Duval demanded and Erik nearly laughed at the naive, confused look Christine gave her.
“I didn’t say anything, Mademoiselle. You made it quite clear I was to be silent,” Christine said, her face perfectly innocent as she finished her work on the costume. “Good luck with the performance.” Christine gave the mirror one last smirk before exiting and Erik’s heart leapt. Not that he needed permission or encouragement. It had been too long since he’d given someone a real fright. Duval kept looking around as the door shut, her face pale.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Erik whispered, low and dangerous. “Doesn’t she know it’s bad luck to say something like that?”
“Who’s there!” Duval yelled into the empty room.
“Someone who doesn’t appreciate rudeness to hardworking employees ofmyopera,” Erik replied, fully truthful. “Especially from someone so easily replaced.”
“What? No! I didn’t mean any disrespect!” Duval protested. It was a pity she could not see the Ghost shrug.
“I would be careful tonight, Mademoiselle,” Erik continued. “So many accidents can happen in a theater. Even invisible things can hurt you if you’re not careful.”
That was all the woman had to hear to rush from the dressing room. Erik let his laughter echo through the stillness and follow her through the dark.
––––––––
It took Christine halfof act one to find Julianne, though her search was delayed when she stopped to wish César a good performance and feed him a few sugar cubes. The idea to look for Julianne in a place she’d shown Christine came to her late. But when Christine opened to door to the storeroom where she’d spent her first night at the Opera, there Julianne was, curled by a piano. She looked up at the creak of the door when Christine entered. She was disappointed.
“I thought you might be...” Julianne sighed. Christine knew who she had been hoping for. “We meet here, sometimes.”
“Jammes will come around, just give her time,” Christine said. She picked her way through the detritus and sat on the floor next to Julianne. “You’ll have to do with me until then.”
Julianne laughed hollowly and continued to pick at a bent nail in the floorboard. “You’re not appalled? Or afraid to be alone with me?”
“Why would I be?” Christine knew why, and Julianne gave her a dubious look in turn. “I don’t think of you any differently if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“But you’ll pray for my immortal soul?” Julianne said the phrase as if she was quoting it, and the pain in the words made Christine wince.
“I don’t think you’re a sinner or damned,” Christine told her friend. Julianne squinted back, cautious. “Someone I trust very much told me that...love is never a sin. And I believe that.” Julianne’s expression thawed, something like gratitude and relief washing over her face. Christine was glad of it, and the weak smile that followed.
