A maid dressed in white and grey brought a small box to her waiting lady. “Thank you Marie.” Meg smiled taking the box. She did not recognize the post marking but assumed it must be yet another wedding gift. Three months had past since the dreadful affair at the Paris opera house, leaving her an orphan yet giving her a life she’d never could have only dreamt. She opened the box with delight as she moved to the study where Raoul sat smoking his pipe.
“Another wedding gift my dear?” he asked looking up from the paper.
“I assume.” she answered tossing the brown wrap to the floor, a maid promptly picked it up. Inside the box sat a smaller box wrapped in a letter. She opened the letter and read a loud.
“Dearest Meg.
I hope this letter finds you well. I know nothing of what has happened to you since the final moments I saw you at the opera house. I hope you and your mother are both of good health. I have since moved to a small suburb of Paris, though I know not the name of the village. We live in a romantic home with a garden and a lake out the back door. You’d so like it here Meg and I so wish you could be here. I understand if you don’t write back to me, but there I something I wanted you to have. Please Meg, write to me if you can, and if you see Raoul please tell him how sorry I am, I never meant to hurt him. With love Christine Daae.”
Meg could barely breath as she opened the box to find a picture the two had taken the first year Christine was part of the chorus.
“I forbid you to write to her Meg.” Raoul barked from behind his paper. He was obviously shaken from the letter and Meg didn’t press the issue. Hours after Raoul had retired to bed, and the staff had put out the candles Meg slipped into the study and sat at the writing desk.
“Christine.
I can say I was surprised at the least to hear from you, after you left the hospital I was sure you’d forgotten all except your precious angel. I can tell you Raoul is doing fine and has married. He has married me Christine, mother died in the opera house. Shame caused her to take her life as she was the reason for the phantom. Tell that to your precious angel. I wish I could stay angry with you Christine, but we’ve been friends for too long. I shall write to you in secret. Raoul has forbid me, but oh Christine how I long to here of your journey. Write to me Christine dear friend. And I shall reply.
Yours Meg.”
in the wee hours of the morning Meg implored a man in a dark cloak to take the letter to where he’d received one for her. He nodded and rode into the dusk, Meg wasn’t sure if he’d find Christine or not, she only hope he did.
Three months had passed since the opera house had burned, since Christine had made her choice then changed her mind. The night was still clear in Erik’s mind, he was still unsure at which point he had won, but he knew that every morning Christine’s beauty filled his kitchen, his study and his heart. He knew that her day would be spend in the garden, walking along the coast and puttering about. He would spend his days watching her from afar, enjoying the sight of her happiness. Today was different, today he saw a man dressed in a dark cloak hand a letter to Christine. She return to the house and without a word went to her room, Erik followed silently and listen at the door for her to begin to pack. Before the fire had wiped out the whole of the opera house, Erik managed to save Christine’s trunk full of clothing and trinkets, all of her personal effects were with her. Instead her heard her weeping softly.
“Christine.” he called from behind the door. He knew he could have the door off it’s hinges in moments if the time came to that. But Christine had taught him in the few short months how to be slightly more civil. She came to the door with red tear stained eyes. “What is it?”
“I wrote to Meg, I miss her Erik, so much.”
“Has she written back with bad news?”
“Her mother had died, and” she stopped as tears began again “She’s married Erik, she’s married Raoul.” Erik didn’t understand her sadness. Didn’t she choose not the be with Raoul, did she not choose to be here with him.
“This is not good?” he asked his anger building. Christine suddenly sensed where his question was going.
“No, whom she married is fine, I’m happy they have each other after what I have done to Raoul. I felt awful. I just always imagined her wedding, we used to talk about it when we were girls. The dresses we’d wear. The party. I feel so alone Erik. Can you understand that?” she was again sobbing. He put his arms around her and held her tight.
“If anyone can understand loneliness Christine, it’s I.” he said to her gently holding her as she cried.
