Four years had passed since Christine Daae had fled the Paris Opera with
the vicomte de Chagny… since the specter known only as the Opera Ghost
had last haunted the credulous cast. It had been four years since a little
street urchin with no last name found herself on that same ghost’s doorstep.
The city outside had changed very little, save for the burgeoning glow of
electric lamps in replacement of the old gas ones. Deep inside the Opera,
it was a much different story.
Elise had, like certain rare blossoms that hibernate in the winter and flower
brilliantly once under the sun’s loving touch, grown and flourished
under Erik’s care. The little girl’s thin, malnourished form had
filled out so that she no longer resembled an underfed sparrow. Her once dirty
and scraggly hair had thickened and grown into a riot of rich chestnut curls.
In short, she had transformed from a pathetic and frightened gutter mouse
into a lively, if somewhat shy, and affectionate child.
To say that Erik cared for her was a gross understatement. He lavished his
wealth and knowledge upon her. he bought her any pretty doll, fancy dress,
or new book that caught her eye. He had taught her to read and was currently
delighting her young mind with rudimentary science and architecture. And music…
he taught her music as though it were a subject of royal and critical importance.
And although she showed no spectacular talent, he was satisfied with her passionate
appreciation. Besides, her child’s voice had yet to grow… and
heruncertain fingers moved over her violin’s strings well enough for
a girl her age.
But still, he kept himself carefully concealed from her, wary of frightening
her. His mask had remained safely in place since she had first entered his
house, removed only when he was separated from her by a locked door. More
important than his face however, was his heart… for he guarded it well.
In caring for her, he had grown to love her as his own… but he had known
far too much heartache to let himself be vulnerable again… even to a
trusting child.
*****
The Paris nights had turned bitterly cold, the crystal clear skies brilliant
with stars. Erik walked briskly through the streets, his dark cloak blending
with friendly shadows and his hat pulled low over his brow to conceal his
mask from any passers. Under his arm, he carried a package in new, brown paper…
a new violin for Elise and a freshly printed copy of Fur Elise for her to
play. It was the very song that had drawn her through the sewers to his home
and she still held a peculiar and unshakable devotion to the Beethoven piece.
Snow had not yet fallen over the city, but the promise of it was heavy in
the air, filling it with a crisp scent. Erik hastened his step towards the
opera, eager to reach his home, his fire, and most of all, his little girl.
Music reached his ears through the chilled air, but it was not the usual sound
of the Opera’s repertoire that often wafted outside. It was the simple
sound of a church choir singing Christmas carols, a small basket in front
of them with a few coins meant to be alms for the poor. He hadn’t even
noted that the holiday season had arrived. Needless to say, he was not a practicing
Catholic by any means… or any other religion for that matter. The onset
of Christmastide had never been a marked occasion for him.
However, perhaps this particular year… he might make an exception.
Elise could use a small celebration of some kind… their lives had fallen
into a routine that was bordering on boring… Christmas was just the
thing. He could take her to the Opera’s annual Christmas gala and watch
her little eyes sparkle with delight over the decorated foyer and festive
music. He could procure a Christmas fir… and a Yule log if she so desired.
Feasts were in order, if the Opera folk were to be emulated… he would
need a goose or turkey.
His mind swimming with sudden ideas, he paused in front of the choir, listening
intently to the hauntingly beautiful strains of Silent Night. They stood in
formation, each man dressed in matching top hats and capes, the women in crimson
cloaks with hoods. Although it was cold, each member sang joyously, a warm
twinkle in each set of eyes. Without thinking, he bent forward and dropped
a small pouch of money into their basket. His little Elise had been a homeless,
hungry child once… he could do no less.
*****
At the Opera, the evening had reached the nightly lull between the end of
rehearsal and the arrival of the cast for the evening performance. Most of
the cast took advantage of this calm to filter off into various cafes and
pubs for a bit of supper, thus the Opera was almost entirely deserted. Elise
wandered about the foyer, skipping along to a music only she could hear. Madame
Giry watched her from the top of the grand escalier. It had taken Erik only
three months of inactivity to quiet the rampant gossip over the death of the
Opera Ghost… and three months more to be safe before he re-introduced
himself to the ballet mistress. Giry had been surprised by his reappearance,
but there had always been a vague alliance that bordered on friendship between
her and the ghost.
The rest of the Opera slept peacefully in the supposed death of the Phantom
and for Elise’s safety, Erik wished it to remain so. Only Madame Giry
knew that he still lived and that now he had foundling to care for. Whereas
before she had served as his personal messenger and voice in the Opera…
now she saw to Elise’s needs while Erik ran errands or worked.
Giry found Elise to be shy and solemn, with that strange innocent wisdom
that most children outgrew by the age of four. She often lived in her own
little universe, playing with imaginary friends, and rarely needed to be scolded
for mischief. She adored watching the ballet rats at practice; something Giry
encouraged in the hopes of adding another dancer to the dwindling numbers.
Elise abandoned skipping in favor of mimicking the ballets, dancing on her
toes, her arms held out gracefully. Giry watched her with one appraising eye
and one protectful one. Perhaps she should speak to Erik about giving the
child dancing lessons with the other girls. After all, she needed some sort
of contact with other children her age. Sending her to school was out of the
question, since legally she had no guardian and Erik enjoyed teaching her
himself anyway. But he couldn’t say no to dance lessons.
“Elise.” She called softly, without bothering to tap her cane,
as she might have done to any of the little rats.
Elise turned and hurried up the steps, her tone respectful. “Yes, Madame?”
“I think it is time for me to take you back down to the house…
the cast will be returning from supper soon.” She reminded her, taking
her little hand.
Elise pouted, but nodded. “I should do my French exercises… Erik
said he wanted them done tonight.”
Hand in hand, the ballet mistress and the eight-year-old walked down through
the cellars, down to the Opera Ghost’s lair. Elise knew the way well
enough by now, but neither adult wanted to risk her straying from the safe
paths and accidentally finding one of Erik’s traps instead. Once inside
the house, Giry stirred up the banking fire while Elise seated herself at
the table with her French book and a few sheets of paper. Erik’s cat
appeared, as was her habit, and made a nuisance of herself by thoroughly investigating
Elise’s book and papers. Elise giggled and scolded the cat gently when
she all but stuck her little face in a glass of milk.
“What will you and Erik be doing for Christmas, Elise?” Giry
asked.
Elise looked up with a curious expression. “I don’t know. How
long is it until Christmas? Will there be a gala again?”
Giry nodded. “Of course. Perhaps if you ask Erik nicely, he will take
you.”
Elise returned her gaze to her book, her eyes downcast. “I don’t
know. Erik doesn’t like holidays… I don’t want to make him
mad at me.”
“There’s no harm in asking, little one.” Giry suggested.
“Seems to me that there’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t
do for you. Ask him and you will see.”
“You think he’d let me?” she asked hopefully. “I
can hear the music most times down here… but I want to see everything
too. I readabout Christmas in books… like Christmas Carol? It sounds
like fun… I hope Erik thinks so too.”
“You never know… perhaps he’ll surprise you.”
*****
Erik headed through the lesser-used corridors of the Opera late that night,
watching as carefully as any administrator as the stage hands and other worker
busied themselves with decorating the foyer and other public areas with long
ropes of holly, wreaths of pine, and red and gold ribbons. The smell of the
pine filled the air, accompanied with the more subtle scents of roasting chestnuts
and herbs that had been sprinkled over every fireplace. Elise had already
fallen asleep by the time he had made it home and Madame Giry had greeted
him with a question he had not expected.
Let Elise have dancing lessons? The thought had not crossed his mind. But
as he watched her sleep, knowing that she loved to dance and knowing that
it was possible that she might inadvertently give him away to a gossipy ballet
rat… not to mention the fact that she may possibly come to realize exactly
how much she was missing in the world above. What could he do? Keep her locked
away with him for all eternity? He was not foolish enough to try that again,
no matter how much noise his paranoia raised. If he loved her… he had
to learn to let her explore and experience. He would have to trust her and
hope.
Trust and hope were very nearly alien concepts to him.
He sighed and retraced his steps back down to the house on the lake. His
home had changed since Elise’s arrival. He no longer let the cool dampness
of the cellars seep into the air and kept every fireplace well stoked with
dancing flames. Dust never had the chance to settle on his bookshelves or
other surfaces, since he found that Elise was mildly allergic to it. Ayesha
was finally not the only one who reminded him that it was suppertime. And
while he still composed his beloved music with an intense passion, he never
worked obsessively for days on end without eating or sleeping, as he did before.
In all honesty, he was quite pleased that he had a small child to remind him
that there was always time after sleeping to finish his work. Elise had affected
not only the warm transformation of his home… but his improved health
as well. Better eating and sleeping habits had lessened the stress on Erik’s
once-ailing heart… he was a little less inclined towards mercurial outbursts
of temper.
With such a breath of welcome change into his life… how could he deny
this sweet little girl anything?
The drawing room was dim, lit only by the fire, which sent waving shadows
over the walls. Erik removed and hung up his cloak and headed straight for
Elise’s room, opening the door silently and slipping inside. Elise was
cuddled under the blanket, her own fire shining a brilliant orange-red on
her chestnut curls. One had rested near her mouth… a reflexive position
left over from her early habit of sucking her thumb, her dark lashes settled
on her rosy cheeks.
Erik felt his heart melting once more as he looked down on her. This child
was his… no matter what any law or Mother Nature had to say to the contrary.
Taking her in from the dirty streets and choosing to protect her made him
more her father than whoever sired her was. Granted, he had no clue as to
the child’s true parentage… but he had already composed a likely
one in his head. Her father mostly had abandoned the mother, who had either
consequently died from some poverty-induced disease or abandoned her child
out of despair. Either way, both parents had left their child in Fate’s
often cruel hands… but Her hands had softened and led her to the door
of a man who would never see her harmed. A man who, instead of taking his
own life as he had originally planned… had found new inspiration in
a child, and in that a will to live beyond his previous suffering. Like a
phoenix rising from the ashes, Erik had rebuilt himself from the twisted and
hideous shell that Christine had left behind… all because of a little
girl.
Dance lessons. How innocuous were dance lessons compared to what she had
given him already?
If dance lessons were what she wanted, then dance lessons she would have.
*****
Christmas was drawing closer, close enough that there was a continual titter
among the corps de ballet that even the sound of Madame Giry’s cane
could not quell entirely. Elise laced up her shoes quickly while the mistress
worked with some of the older girls. As she finished, she caught a quiet conversation
next to her.
“What are you getting for Christmas, Yvonne?”
“A new dress I think… and a doll… Papa always buys me a new doll every Christmas. Oh I hope I can finish the coverlet in time…
Mama’s been so busy lately and I want to surprise her.”
“My mother is getting me new slippers, I know… these are too
small. And I’m sewing up a little rag-doll for the new baby. I might
do a painting for my papa… with the paints he gave me last Christmas.”
“Oh I hope I get the wrap I wanted!”
“Mama’s finally said that I can help with Christmas dinner instead
of watching over my brothers and sisters! I can’t wait to learn how
she makes the pudding!”
“Papa can’t wait to play carols on the new piano… he’s
been tuning it practically every day.”
“Excuse me?” Elise asked before she could stop herself. The three
girls turned to look at her with an air of friendly surprise. Since joining
the ballet classes, Elise never spoke unless spoken to and even then, she
was so quiet that the other girls simply ignored her. Now she had their full
attention.
“Elise… what are you getting for Christmas?” Jeanette asked.
“I don’t know… I’ve already gotten a few new dresses…
and dolls. Maybe my… my Papa… will give me some new books for
Christmas. Or some music…”
“Books? For Christmas? What kind of books?” Helene repeated.
“Story books, I guess… fairy tales… I have been wanting
the new copy of The Three Musketeers for him to read to me.” Elise replied
shyly, looking down with her cheeks reddening.
Jeanette took pity on her. “Ah… those kinds of books… very
nice. Do you know what your mother will be getting you?”
“I don’t have a mother…” Elise whispered. “Just…
my papa.”
Papa… why had she never thought of him like that before. He’d
always been Erik to her… and even though she knew that Erik was not
a blood relative… he was her father for all intents and purposes. She
clearly remembered wandering into the sewers on a frigid winter day and following
the sound of a violin to his door. If he had been any other adult, he would’ve
thrown her back into the streets or let her ramble lost in the catacombs until
she perished… but Erik had become her guardian angel rather than just
another indifferent adult. He took her him and cared for her as his own even
though he had no idea who she was.
If he could serve as her guardian angel… surely that meant she could
think of him as her Papa as well.
The girls meanwhile had lapsed into silence following Elise’s last
statement.
“Oh… it’s all right. I don’t remember my mother at
all.” She assured them, conscious of the others’ discomfort. “I
was just wondering… do any of you have any ideas… on what I can
get for my Papa for Christmas?”
For an hour the four girls discussed possible presents for Elise’s
father… everything from a new tie to good quality music paper to cooking
all of Christmas dinner herself. Elise liked a few of the ideas… but
nothing seemed perfect. Her first present to Erik as her Papa would have to
be special. It took Madame Giry’s cane three bangs to succeed in getting
the girls’ attentions.
After the lessons was over, an embarrassed Elise hastily changed into her
street clothes, hoping to get down to where Erik would meet her before Madame
Giry could scold her for not paying attention. No such luck, the stern ballet
mistress was waiting for her outside of the dressing room.
“Elise. A moment?” she asked, taking her aside before Elise could
answer yes or no.
“Madame… I apologize for losing my concentration, but-“
she began.
“Never mind that, dear. What were you talking to those girls about?”
Giry asked, a worried expression on her face.
“Christmas, madame… I..” she drifted off suddenly, realizing
why she had been so concerned. “Oh! No, madame! I didn’t say anything
about Erik or where we lived. I just asked them for some helping in deciding
what to get him for Christmas. Nothing for them to gossip about, honest.”
Giry sighed, a smile settling on her lips. “I’m sorry, my dear…
I know you mean well… just a moment of panic. As for a Christmas present
for Erik… he’ll enjoy whatever you choose to give him, so I wouldn’t
worry overly much about it.”
“But I want it to be special, madame… all of the other girls have such perfect things picked out for their papas…” Elise sighed wistfully.
“Do you have any ideas?”
Giry seemed taken aback by the question. “Well, I… never knew
Erik even celebrated Christmas. I’m afraid I won’t be much help,
dear. Keep looking… you’ll find something.”
*****
How do you capture the wind on the water?
How do you count all the stars in the sky?
How can you measure the love of the Master?
Or how can you write down a baby’s first cry?
Candlelight, angel light
Firelight and starglow
Shine on His cradle ‘til breaking of dawn
Gloria, Gloria in excelsis Deo
Angels are singing
The Christ child is born
Elise bit her lip in concentration as she drew the bow over her violin’s
strings in a gentle rhythm, the simple melody floating about the room softly.
She loosened her white-knuckled grip on the bow and sighed… she had
to, just had to get this song right before Christmas Eve!
After days of wracking her brain and asking anyone who cared to listen to
her problem, she had finally settled on an idea for Erik’s present.
Madame Giry had been of particular help in her endeavor… as had her
daughter, Meg, who had stayed with Elise well after dance rehearsals were
over. As far as Elise could tell, Erik had no inkling of her plans…
he seemed to think that her increased absence was due to her desire to spend
time with her newfound Opera friends.
Elise disliked letting Erik think that she was somehow forsaking him, even
though her time was devoted to towards the gift that she hoped would tell
him how much she loved him. Her Papa… not by blood… but because
he was the only soul on earth who cared enough about a dirty street-child
to take her in and care for her. In truth, Erik deserved her love more than
her birth parents did… for he had given her everything while they had
abandoned her to the streets.
*****
Erik swung his cloak over his shoulders, passing an absent-minded hand over
Ayesha’s arched back. She half meowed half purred at him in response
and jumped down from the sofa’s back, tossing her head prettily so that
the bell Elise had attached to her collar jingled merrily.Although the bell
diminished her hunting abilities to some extent, Ayesha seemed to enjoy the
tingling accessory greatly since Elise had given it to her that morning.
Christmas Eve… and the Opera’s gala was to start in a few hours.
Erik glanced at the clock on his mantle and sighed. What was taking Elise
so long? She had shut herself up in her room over an hour ago and had promised
to emerge soon when he had knocked on the door in concern.
“Elise. Are you nearly ready? We will be late if we do not head up
soon.” He called after a moment’s hesitation.
“Coming!” she called from behind the door and Erik was pleased
when he heard the door open at last. Elise entered the parlor and Erik couldn’t
help but smile at her. She wore the new dress he had bought her some weeks
ago, a luxurious thing of crimson velvet and snow-white lace. She had forgone
the twin tails she usually put her hair into, preferring to twist it up in
a more sophisticated style that looked suspiciously like something Madame
Giry might had taught her. He swallowed, this was no longer the little girl
he had brought into his house four years ago… she looked older than
her ten years, and he caught a glimpse of the young woman she was destined
to become one day. Refined, heart-rendingly lovely, slender and willowy…
like an errant woodland nymph with wide eyes and an eager smile… a young
woman who, much sooner than he had ever expected, would not need him anymore.
The thought sobered him… in the four short years since he had taken
her in, he had grown familiar with having his child… the sudden realization
that she would someday leave him, most likely marry some young man, and forget
about the man who had loved her first.
His heart twisted within his chest, sending a painful jolt through his body.
Elise frowned at his expression, the sudden lack of light in his eyes. “Erik?
Are you all right? I don’t look bad, do I?”
He took a deep breath. “No… not at all, my dear… quite
the contrary. You look beautiful, Elise. Shall we head up to Box Five? The
orchestra should be warming up soon.”
He offered his hand, forcing a smile. It was Christmas… and he would
not burden his little foundling’s holiday with his worries for the entire
world.
*****
Elise tried desperately to sit still through the first section of the Opera’s
annual Christmas gala; a series of light-hearted, religious, and traditional
Christmas pieces from the Opera’s orchestra. Under normal circumstances,
she would’ve been hard-pressed to tear her attention away from the stage
area… but on this night her eyes wandered all over the auditorium, from
the people to the chandelier to the boxes across the way where the managers
sat to the currently still stage. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest
like a war drum her legs starting to shake. She took a few deep breaths as
the corps de ballet took the stage and performed a segment of dance from a
new ballet from Russian composer Tchaikovsky… something about sugar
plum fairies or the like. She would have to make a discreet exit soon in order
to get Erik’s present ready.
She placed a hand on his sleeve gently. “Erik… I’ll be
right back… I have to go… ahem… take care of something.”
He nodded at her, no doubt assuming that her delicate phrasing hinted at
the need for the water closet. “Don’t be long, my dear…
the singers will be performing for us soon.”
Elise nodded and rose from her seat, exiting the box as quickly as prudence
would allow. She met Madame Giry backstage, while the dancers were still performing,
Meg currently delighting the audience at center stage. Giry motioned for the
little girl not to speak and handed her the shining violin case that Elise
had secreted backstage that morning during rehearsals. With a jerk of her
head, Giry indicated a spot for Elise to sit and wait while she quietly made
sure the violin was still in tune. Elise tried to still the fluttery beating
of her heart, which was now behaving like a wild bird suddenly caged.
*****
Erik clapped as the dancers curtsied for the audience, his mind twirling
around the melodies of Tchaikovsky… this ballet of his was most likely
pure drivel meant only to entertain the masses and keep his coffer comfortably
full… but there was still potential in his music. He noted to himself
that he should attempt to find more serious work from this particular composer
to look over. He frowned when he noticed that Elise had not returned from
the powder room yet. If she was gone much longer, she would miss the first
carol from the singers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to wish you all a
Happy Christmas on behalf of the Opera Populaire, its patrons and artists.”
Firmin addressed the audience somewhat less stiffly than usual. “I know
you are all awaiting the main entertainment of our celebration, the Opera’s
diva La Madeliena di Palazo. But first I would like to present a special performance
by one of our youngest members.”
Erik sat forward… this wasn’t listed in the program. A last minute
adjustment?
“It seems one of our little ballet dancers has an additional musical
talent and it is my pleasure to introduce her to you now. Ladies and
Gentlemen… Miss Elise Noir.”
Elise? Erik nearly slipped out of his chair he sat upright so quickly. What
was she doing?
Elise shyly took center stage, smiling briefly at Firmin, the violin he had
bought her a few weeks ago shaking in her hands. She faced the audience and
Erik was filled with terror on behalf of his child… she was so frightened
before so many people, so pale he feared she might faint. But she took a visible
breath and stepped forward, closer to the edge of the stage. The audience
was oddly silent, intrigued by this pint-sized addition to the Christmas gala.
“Ladies and gentlemen… I wish you all a merry Christmas. And
I would also like to dedicate this song to my Papa, it is because of him that
I have been privileged enough to learn and love music.” Her eyes flicked
up to Box Five cautiously, leaving no doubt in Erik’s mind as to who
she was speaking of.
Papa… she had called him her Papa. Tears threatened in his eyes as
Elise raised the violin to her chin and drew the bow across the strings just
as he had taught her to. His little girl… his little girl was performing
on the stage in front of all of Paris… but only for him. He did not
recognize the melody, but it was a gentle and soothing one, that suited her
skills perfectly, being neither fast nor difficult. He found himself humming
it almost inaudibly as it was repeated.
Soon, the orchestra picked up her song as well and the sound of her solo
violin was embraced by stronger instruments. Elise lowered it slowly, adjusting
her position from one preferable for playing to one more appropriate for singing.
Shepherds and wise men will kneel and adore Him
Seraphim ‘round him their vigil will keep
Nations proclaim him their Lord and their Savior
But Mary will hold Him and sing Him to sleep
Candlelight, angel light
Firelight and star glow
Shine on His cradle ‘til breaking of dawn
Gloria Gloria in excelsis Deo
Angels are singing
The Christ child is born
Find Him at Bethlehem laid in a manger
Christ our Redeemer asleep on the hay
Godhead incarnate and hope of salvation
A child with His mother that first Christmas Day
Candlelight, angel light
Firelight and star glow
Shine on His cradle ‘til breaking of dawn
Gloria Gloria in excelsis Deo
Angels are singing
The Christ child is born
Angels are singing
The Christ child is born
He was trembling all over, his heart bursting with love for his child as
she bashfully curtsied for the audience as they clapped eagerly for the courageous
little girl. Musically, she was not spectacular by any means, her voice clear
but weak from only light training… her violin skills slightly above
average for her age… but to Erik, it was the most beautiful thing he
had ever heard in his fifty-odd years of life. The voice of his daughter singing
only for him warmed him as no fire, nor anger, nor innocent look from Christine
ever had. At last his prayers had been answered, albeit not in the way he
had expected. Someone… a beautiful girl… trusted him, cared for
him, sang for him… loved him. At that very moment, every wall he had
ever erected around his heart crumbled like ancient masonry… he knew,
just knew that even if Elise someday caught him without his mask or somehow
witnessed his awesome temper… she would still love him. He was her Papa…
she was his daughter… that was the only truth he needed.
Ten minutes of eternity later, Elise attempted to slip back into her seat
next to him, her face flaming. He grasped her wrist gently, turning his eyes
to her. “My child…” he whispered, his voice shaking.
“Did I… do well? It was not my best, I know… but I tried
so hard, I did.” She murmured in an undertone.
Without another word, he pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly. “It
was sublime, my child… beautiful… you have no idea how much it
means to me.”
Her arms wrapped eagerly around his neck. “Merry Christmas, Papa…
I love you.”
He sighed, the tears he had been holding back breaking through at last. “As I love you, Elise… merry Christmas.”