Page 56 of Angel's Mask

Christine laughed, throwing her borrowed jewels back into the crowd. They had done it. For this one glorious moment, Paris was hers as her angel watched. She didn’t feel like a princess. She felt like a queen.

The standing ovation went on and on. Flowers were thrust into her arms. She curtsied and tried to leave, but Rameau, Fontana, and Adèle all pushed her back on stage. Joining her to bow with and thentoher. She laughed even as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. It was too much, and yet, the sight – and she knew it was real this time – of a shadow in box five joining the applause made her heart truly soar. She had pleased him.

At last, Christine escaped the stage, but there was no less commotion behind the curtain. Adèle was beside her, leading her away from the dressing rooms.

“Where are we going?” Christine asked, trying to stop but unable. She was like a leaf carried by a river’s current as everyone headed the same direction.

“To the party you silly girl!” Adèle cried. “Every patron will be lining up to kiss your hand!”

“Oh, no, please,” Christine protested, her joy turning instantly to terror. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“We’ll be with you.” It was Robert Rameau who had said it and Christine had not even noticed he was beside them. “Don’t worry, my dove. This is just how it’s done.”

The transition from the dark world of wood and plaster backstage to the bright marble climes of the public sections of the Opera would always shock Christine, but stepping out of the stage door tonight was like the first blast of dawn when curtains were pulled back. Every light was on, fully illuminating the mosaics and fountains and baroque adornments on every column and arch. Like everything right now, it was beautiful but completely overwhelming.

On either side of her, Adèle and Robert kept talking, pointing people out to Christine in the throng as they climbed the grand staircase to the loge level and made their way to theGrand Foyer. Christine had never seen it alight in all its glory, the gaslights and the candles reflecting in the mirrors and gold, illuminating the murals on the ceiling. It was all so ostentatious and fantastic, packed to the gills with men in black opera jackets and women in luxurious dresses. It made Christine nearly swoon. This was too much. Too much finery. Too many people. Too far from him.

People introduced themselves, praised her, kissed her hand, and flattered her. She barely could thank them before someone else accosted her in an endless line. At last, they made to the fireplace near the end of the salon, where a large group was gathered.

“Mademoiselle Daaé!” someone called and Christine was sure she didn’t know the man. “Our new Marguerite!” a cheer went up and people turned to her, raising shallow glasses of champagne in a toast. A glass appeared in her own hand, and she sipped as a reflex. A terrible decision because the bubbles went right to her already-spinning head.

“And to think, I thought you would be the new Siébel,” Adèle purred beside her. “I was so excited for my retirement.”

“Oh no. You can’t leave me now,” Christine replied, trying to catch her breath.

“I guess not,” Adèle smiled. Christine did need her, if this was to be her life now, she needed all the friends she could manage. Including new ones, she thought, as Robert took the champagne from her.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

“I’m only the devil part of the time,” Robert replied. “Now, where are our esteemed managers? I heard they were meant to make a speech. Ah, there we are!”

Christine could barely see the men at the center of the room as they clinked their glasses with knives to get the attention of the crowd. From what she could see though, Debienne and Poligny looked horrible.

“God, you’d think someone had died,” Robert whispered.

“Maybe we’ve been blessed and it was Carlotta,” Adèle said on the other side of Christine.

“Madames and Messieurs,” Debienne began tiredly. “Thank you for your patronage this past year and for all the years of our service to this opera.”

“It is fitting that it is with such a glorious gala that my esteemed partner and I...” Poligny continued, his voice shaking and slurred. “Announce our retirement.”

Christine could hear nothing more over the uproar that followed. Adèle’s mouth was slack in shock, but Robert grinned. “I’m sorry, my dear ladies, I need to find a friend and celebrate the good news.” In a heartbeat, Robert was gone.

“Jesus Christ in heaven, this will be a mess,” Adèle muttered. “The whole point of having two managers is for continuity. I guess the Ghost finally got to them.”

“I guess...” Christine murmured. Had this been her angel’s doing as well? The thought made her shiver.

“Are you cold without your red scarf, Christine?”

She spun at the voice behind her, her heart leaping to her throat. It couldn’t be. And yet, there was the familiar face she had dreamed she saw in the audience, smiling at her. In the years since she had known him, Raoul de Chagny had become a man; sturdy and tawny as if he’s spent months in the sun, with lush golden-brown hair, gentle brows, and broad shoulders. But his eyes were still the same: sky blue and full of joy.

Christine could not help but grin back in delight.

“I nearly drowned rescuing that scarf, I should be quite sad if you lost it,” Raoul continued, his handsome face as open and sincere as it had been when they were teenagers. “Here, take this one if you have need.”

Christine and the crowd around her gaped as Raoul removed his white silk scarf from around his neck and presented it to Christine with a bow. She took it without thinking, her jaw slack.

“Christine, do you know the young Vicomte?” Adèle asked in clear amazement.

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