Page 87 of Our Strange Duet

“Eventually,” I allowed. I hadn’t considered how that would feel, giving time and financial assistance to the organization where I’d once used my artistic talents to shine.

“Soon,” he countered. “And we can use tonight to announce our engagement. It’s perfect, don’t you think? In front of all your friends!”

The idea filled me with a terror too acute to put into words. I could only shake my head.

“Christine,” he pleaded. “We have to tell people at some point.”

“But not tonight,” I said, taking his hands in mine. “Not there.”

Raoul reflected on this. “I suppose there should be a formal party for it. Mother would hate to be robbed of the chance to plan such a soiree.”

It pained me to agree.

“Let’s stay in tonight,” I suggested. “We’ve been out every evening this week, and it’s snowing and cold and—” I could see that my excuses were falling on deaf ears. “And I haven’t anything to wear. I didn’t think we’d be attending, so I never secured a costume.”

“I thought of that!” Raoul cried, unmistakably pleased by his foresight. He gestured toward the box he’d brought in. “Go on! Go on! Open it!”

Inside the box was a mess of candy-colored sequins and tulle. Silver stars were embroidered across blue and pink chiffon. I didn’t know if I was meant to be a celestial princess or a starlit fairy, but it was the most extravagant dress I’d ever held. The beading and appliqués were stitched to perfection. The quality of silk was far nicer than anything I’d ever worn onstage. It must have cost him an eye-watering amount, a king’s ransom, and he’d done it just for me. I felt dizzy with undeserving.

Raoul watched me with intense eyes. “It’s your costume,” he said needlessly. “For tonight.” His face fell, and uncertainty crept over his features. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, quick to reassure him that he’d done well, that my reticence had nothing to do with him. “It’s just…I don’t think I want to go to the party.”

“But it will be such fun! A masquerade for the ages. They’ll be speaking about this ball well into 1896!”

“But…I don’t…I don’t want to wear a mask.”

Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he understand why?

“Because of…” His shoulders slumped. “Because of him? Christine, he’s dead. Gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t control what you do. Surely that’s worth celebrating, is it not?” He picked up the silver star mask I’d put down and offered it to me. “Christine, what are you afraid of? It’s just a mask.”

I could see the hope in his eyes, and I knew how badly he wanted me to say yes. He wanted me to agree and put on the wildly expensive party gown he’d bought and go with him to the opera’s ball. He wanted me to be all smiles and light, showing how blissful we were, how we had not a care in the world because we had each other and our love. It was all he wanted. It was all he asked. How could I say no?

I took the mask from him and held it to my face. The glitter painted along the edges of the eyeholes nearly blinded me. Light reflected off the silver flakes, creating a dazzling filter over my vision. Everything looked bright. Everything seemed beautiful.

I offered Raoul my best smile and tried to ignore how shaky it felt.

“How do I look?”

Chapter 29

“Dear André, what a splendid party!” Raoul stepped forward and gave a masked skeleton’s hand a boisterous shake. The theatre manager was dressed in a jacket with sparkling ribs appliquéd over its front and an elaborate mantle of red satin. Long femurs and tibias were stitched down his tailored pants. “I believe you’re already acquainted with my fiancée?” Raoul slapped him on the back.

“Ah, yes, Miss Daaé. So good to see you again. What do you think of our little festivities? Quite the prologue to a bright new year, wouldn’t you say?”

I gave an appreciative sweep of my eyes over the Populaire’s grand entry. The black marble staircase shone with a gleaming luster, and the golden nymph statues lining the balustrade glimmered in the candlelight so fiercely I almost needed to squint.

Hundreds of people filled the space, each preening and twirling as they showed off their elaborate costumes. I saw sultanas and mermen, lions, and a shepherdess leading about an actual lamb. There were fortune tellers and clowns, jesters, and even someone dressed as a goldfish.

“It looks marvelous,” I told him as Monsieur Firmin approached. Like his cohort, he also wore a skeleton mask, though his looked like something that would be pulled from the deepest trenches of the sea. Bony spikes poked out from his jaw, and a wide swath of green velour covered his torso. His wife followed after him, waving from behind her oversized sunray mask. “I’m sure it will be quite a night.”

“I’m impressed!” Raoul said, jumping in and greeting the other manager with great exuberance. He’d downed his first two champagnes so quickly his cheeks were already a ruddy pink.

“Well, one does one’s best.” Monsieur Firmin signaled a waiter to bring over a tray of glasses. “Here’s to the two of you!” He hoisted high his coupe, readying to begin a toast.

I glanced about nervously. It was bad enough that Raoul had already told the managers of our engagement. I didn’t want anyone else to overhear.

I didn’t care what well-meaning assurances Raoul had given.