Chapter 17:

The Christmas holiday had come and gone, and New Year's Day was soon to be upon them. The welcoming of a new year was of little importance to Erika, only serving as a cue to date her papers ahead. It brought no significant change, the beginning of another twelve months. Yet, as she had greeted Christian at the eastern entrance that afternoon, a very startling change had met her eyes.

Christian's hair had been cut, cut and styled in a manner to suit a dignified gentleman. Erika had nearly mistaken him for a stranger, but as soon as she realized this gentleman was her pupil she ushered him inside. Her student's sudden change in appearance hadn't mattered at the time. No, Erika was much too eager to bring him downstairs and continue what they had begun weeks ago.

Floored by how his influence had transformed a piece of her music, Erika had since been supplementing their lessons with impromptu experimentation with other scores from her work-in-progress. The results, she found to be astounding. In him, each melody was torn asunder and made anew. Each passing day added more pages to the newborn Dona Juanita, and deepened the bond she sensed growing between them. Although the process seemed taxing for her student, often leaving him out of breath and weary from the hours of standing, Erika felt it connected them in a way she had never known. Together, they were creating a work of art and – to her – it felt as intimate as giving birth. It was their child, the product of their voices and minds intertwining, and it bound her to him.

"I've never heard anything quite like the pieces you've written," Christian said as Erika set aside a fresh page to dry. "If you'll pardon my saying so, it's shocking that a woman could compose something so…." He trailed off and cleared his throat.

"If there is anything an audience appreciates, it's an act with bite," Erika replied. "The public enjoys being shocked, I know that very well."

Christian didn't reply.

"I guarantee you," she went on, "were the company to produce a spectacle such as this, it would solve its financial woes. Despite what the papers would say about it, human beings will willfully pay to be offended."

"You very well could be correct."

She looked at him. "You're full of flattery today. Any particular reason?"

"I was hoping for an early dismissal."

Well, that was certainly blunt. Erika looked to her grandfather clock. An hour before their agreed dismissal time. "And why should I permit that?"

Christian hesitated, his gaze flittering about before returning to focus on his tutor. "I have business with the Viscount de Chagny."

Erika's expression turned cynical. "Why?" The word seeped between her teeth like venom.

"I had an audience with him this morning," Christian was all too eager to answer. He was quick to add: "About his patronage. I was hoping to convince him to reinstate it."

She was watching his body language with each word he breathed, surveying for any hint of deception. "And you were successful?"

"No, Madame. Not in the slightest, but that is why I need to arrive on time to this second meeting. If I'm late, there may never be another chance."

He sounded genuine enough, but the way he carried himself indicated some things were being left unsaid. A part of her always wondered why her student was so neglectful of his practice when at home, but she had never allowed herself to ponder on it for too long.

"A noble cause." Wary of just how much trust to put in him, Erika gave Christian a single nod of approval. "Very well then, you may go. But I expect you back an hour early tomorrow afternoon. All that's needed in my score is a finale, and I'm anxious to see what blooms on the pages."

"Yes. As am I, Madame," Christian's words were impatient as he dressed himself for the weather outside. He sighed as he tossed a wool scarf around his neck. "As am I."

Whatever it was that was being left unsaid, Erika wanted to know. She trailed Christian at a safe distance, following the outlines his shoes left in the freshly fallen snow. The gutters were swathed in grey cascades of ice, melted snow that had frozen before making it to the sewer. She kept her gait steady to avoid slipping and giving away her presence. Christian was already wary of being followed, checking over his shoulder every so often. When he did, Erika became still as a startled rat – her black coat merging her with the shadows of the street lamps.

It didn't take long before she realized he was not walking towards the Viscount's address, nor was he walking towards his own. Nothing about this was right.

Finally, he came to the Seine. Thousands of clustered, frozen floats of ice silently moved downriver, towards the silhouette of Notre Dame in the distance. On the cobblestone walking path at the river's edge, a hooded figure sat on a bench amongst the barren trees.

"Rachel!" Christian's voice carried through the quiet nighttime air as he jogged towards the waiting figure.

Erika halted as the Viscountess lowered her riding hood and looked in Christian's direction. Staying low, Erika snuck behind the wide trunk of a tree and watched this clandestine meeting unfold.

Christian grabbed Rachel into a tight embrace as they met halfway down the path. A quickly shared kiss, and their laughter rang out across the water.

"Did you ask my father?" Rachel enquired – her voice reaching Erika as a slight echo.

"I tried, min älskling, I did," Christian said, kissing Rachel's delicate fingers, "but he refused."

A white cloud fluttered from Rachel's mouth as a deep sigh escaped her. Erika thought she heard the words: "That's what I was afraid of." Rachel looked out across the icy river, her arms over her chest. "Does he know about our meetings?"

"I was not about to tell your father about those," Christian said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "If he knew I was seeing you without a chaperone..."

"Oh, Devil take it!" Rachel cried. "It may not be the ideal courtship, but I've never been happier!"

"I did everything I could to look the part of a suitable bachelor," Christian said, his chin resting on her red braids, "but he simply does not see me as worthy of you."

"Do you remember Phillis, Christian?" Rachel asked, tilting her head up. "My older sister?"

"A bit, yes. What of her?"

"Two years ago, my father married her off to a Naval captain. A charming fellow, yes, but there were so many suitors before him. Only the best choice was permitted to court her, and she now lives with him in Bordeaux." Another cloud rose from Rachel's lips. "Now I'm afraid my father will want the same of me, regardless of who my heart belongs to."

Erika heard Christian chuckle as he leaned in to kiss Rachel's cheek.

"You've fallen for a pauper, and he wants you to have a prince."

"Precisely."

A moment of silence. The only sounds Erika could hear were the soft creaking of ice in the river and the blood in her aching ears.

Christian said something into Rachel's ear.

"I would brave a hut in the worst of Siberia if it meant I was with you," Rachel said.

"What about a cottage in Sweden?" Christian asked, turning Rachel to face him.

Rachel chortled, her nose crinkling. "That seems the preferable option."

"Wonderful, then," Christian beamed as he lowered himself to one knee.

From within his pocket, he retrieved an item too small to see at that distance, but there was no guess as to what it was. "It was my mother's wedding ring," he said, holding the small glinting object between his fingers. "I can't afford anything more fashionable, but…if you'll have me…I want to make you my wife with it."

Rachel dropped to her knees in front of him. Christian appeared stunned as his prospective bride took his hands into her own. Inaudible words were exchanged between them, followed by a cry of joy from Christian, and a very enthusiastic kiss.

"I promise, we'll leave the city just as soon as I have enough saved to support us," Christian said, slipping the band onto Rachel's finger. "I'm determined to keep my career on the right path. I've been enduring further training to keep my voice in shape, and it has been far from pleasant at times." He took Rachel's hand. "But I'm doing it all with us in mind!"

Erika shuddered. Christian's words were icicles, piercing her and leaving only a cold sting in their wake as they melted into her body. They had killed her right then and there, but she didn't feel so much as a twinge.

"Yes, but until then," Rachel said, reaching around her head to undo her necklace, "Father can't know about this." Erika observed her as the Viscountess pocketed the gem that was originally hanging from the chain, and replaced it with the ring. "As far as anyone knows, I've bought new jewelry."

"Marvelous, älskling," Christian praised, kissing the place between her eyes. "Can I still expect to see you at the celebration?"

"If you can recognize me, then yes," Rachel joked, securing the engagement ring around her throat. "And don't worry, Father didn't want his invitation this year."

Erika had seen enough, and she quietly left them to themselves. The icicle words seemed to have numbed her to the core, leaving her unable to feel the fatal wound inflicted to her. Likely, when she was back in the relative warmth of her home, she would thaw and realize how deeply she had been cut. Yes, that would happen; but in that moment she didn't complain of the inability to feel.

Let the Viscountess believe in whatever fantasy she wished. What harm could it bring for just a few days more? She would come to realize that Christian had already been claimed by a marriage of sorts. They both would.

When Christian had asked her about the celebration, Erika had told him such things were no place for her to be. Now that she thought of it, she was long overdue to meet her theatre's ensemble in the flesh. New Year was, after all, a chance to start anew.