Page 71 of Our Strange Duet

Perhaps there were other things I could be skilled at. A shop assistant or a seamstress. After years of sewing ribbons on pointe shoes and mending my own clothing, I knew my way around a needle and thread.

My stomach flipped, feeling tight and miserable.

It all seemed so hard.

“What do you think, Christine?” Raoul asked, staring at me with a look of such hopeful anticipation I could tell he’d had to repeat himself.

“I’m sorry. About what?”

“About getting away for a bit. Without all your rehearsals and obligations, we could spend the rest of the summer together. We could go to Deauville, if you like. Stay at one of those big houses along the shoreline. Separate bedrooms, of course,” he added quickly when he noticed my startled expression.

“That sounds lovely, truly, Raoul,” I began. “I…I wish I could.”

He tilted his head. “But with the opera closed, and with everything we said out on the roof…there’s nothing to keep you from it, from me, from us together.”

I swallowed, feeling ridiculous that I had to say it aloud. “I…I couldn’t begin to afford such a trip.”

“Oh, Christine.” His tone was wounded, as if I’d offended him somehow. “I would handle all of that, obviously,” he said, waving his hand as if such a sum was no great matter. I supposed, for him, it wasn’t.

“But my apartment here, my other expenses. Raoul, I have to work. I can’t…I can’t not work.”

He blinked, the idea wholly foreign to him. “I’m certain Gilles and Richard won’t abandon you all.” His eyes brightened. “I shall speak to them about it at once. I’m sure, as the patron, I can convince them. And besides…once we return from our holiday…perhaps you’ll no longer be burdened with such worries.”

My breath caught. Had I somehow misinterpreted his words? It sounded as though he was suggesting…“Raoul, did you just propose?”

He beamed and shrugged.

He shrugged!

“No. Not exactly. Not yet.” He let out a laugh. “Christine Daaé, when I propose to you, it’s not going to be in a spare bedroom.”

When…When!

“What do you say?” he pressed. “Come to Deauville. We’ll get away from all…all of this. I think it would do both of us a world of good.”

“But what about…” I was unable to pick one single problem to voice. There were so many. Dozens and dozens of them. Weren’t there? “Won’t people talk?”

He frowned. “Are you worried about that sort of thing?”

It felt silly to say I was. Especially if he truly intended to propose.

Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny! Proposing to me!

I could hardly believe it.

It felt so grand and wondrous, a fairy tale come to life. Here was my noble, handsome prince, swooping in to save me, pledging to love me, forever and ever, until death did us part.

Raoul took my hand in his and pressed an ardent kiss to its palm. “You stole my heart all those years ago, Christine, and I’ve never wanted it back. I know, in your gentle hands, it’s been safe. Let me keep you safe now. Let me take care of you. You know I would do anything for you. Always.” He squeezed my fingers. “Will you come with me?”

I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. Everything was happening so fast. Too fast, if I was being honest, but it seemed foolish to worry about that. The tragedy at the opera had shown me just how unexpected life could be. Why shouldn’t we run to our joys? I had no doubt that a summer holiday with Raoul would be nothing but bliss. What was there to hold me back?

I had no parents to disapprove, no job to report to. And my Angel…my Angel was no more. My Angel had never been. It had only ever been Erik, and I could not be expected to uphold a promise to a madman.

Slowly, shyly, I lifted Raoul’s hand and repeated the kiss he’d given me. “Anywhere you go, let me go too.”

His grin was as bright as the sun. “Oh, Christine, this will be…this will be everything. We’ll leave as soon as the doctor says you’re safe to travel.”

The immensity of everything we’d have to do before then was overwhelming. I’d need to pack and speak with my landlord…