That night, Edmée received a note from Meg. It included tickets to the next night’s Gala performance of Gounod’s Faust. When Edmée presented the to Raoul, he mentioned that he wasn’t feeling well enough to go to the opera, and that she should go on her own.

So, the next night, Edmée dressed in her blue evening gown and signature veil. She went out the door, being sure to kiss Raoul on the cheek on her way out. Their carriage was waiting for her to take the short ride to the opera house.

Edmée always loved the Palais Garnier on Gala Night. All of the lamps were lit making the gold filigree sparkle and the crystals of the foyer chandelier glitter. The grand staircase and foyer were packed with people in evening dress. There was a rainbow of different color gowns, with the men being in tails. Reluctantly, Edmée walked through the crowd of people, anxious to get to her box as soon as she could.

“Edmée!”

Edmée sighed. She did not need Meg to stop her in the middle of the crowded foyer, but was still not used to having someone grab her hand unexpectedly as Meg did now.

“Come! I have something to show you,” were the last words she processed as she was whisked away from the crowds and down less populated corridors leading to backstage area. Meg was babbling on as they passed curious stage hands and half dressed dancers with full faces of bright makeup. Edmée had not felt this exposed in a long time and tried to keep her eyes focused solely on Meg.

“I have a surprise for you!” finally registered on Edmée’s ears when Meg came to a stop in front of a door to a studio used for dance rehearsals when the stage was occupied.

Edmée was surprised that the room wasn’t empty when the door opened as all the dancers should be getting ready to take places. There was a woman settled in a wheelchair staring at her. She was well beyond Edmée’s age and the face was almost unrecognizable; one that she hadn’t seen in years – not since Christine Daae’s was alive.

“Speechless, I see. Surprised to see me?” came a voice spoken barely above a whisper, but it still had that stern, commanding element.

“I am sorry, Madame, but I am not sure we’ve met before,”Edmée managed to get out. She shifted so she was standing straight and her jaw set in a defiant manner.

The woman across from her nodded. “I see. You still blame me for everything that happened. I apologize that you see it differently than what it is, but we must talk. I warned you not to marry the Vicomte DeChagny and you still defied me, as you always have done.”

“Enough!”  Edmée’s voice rung out. “I will not be spoken to in that way by some senile old woman.”She turned to face Meg. “I do not know what games you play, but I am leaving.”

“You think that I did not recognize you from the moment you stepped into this building?” Meg’s voice had changed from a bubbly pitch to that of an accusing one. “Do you really think I was such a fool that I would have never noticed?”

“I beg your pardon?” Edmée acted affronted. “I will speak to the new managers about the way I have been treated.” She headed towards the door, but Meg stopped her.

“Oh my little Edmée,” Madame Giry wheeled towards the two other women in the room. “I was a fool to bring you here. Why did I imagine that a curious little girl gifted with the voice of an angel could be comfortable with a life resigned to hiding in the shadows of a place such as this? Yes, it was my fault in the beginning. It was your fault to reveal yourself as if you had not been shunned from the world since birth.”

When her mother spoked the word “reveal” Meg reached up and took the veil from the Vicomtess’ face. Underneath the veil, was a half mask that was colored to match her skin tone.

“Tell me,” Madame Giry continued, “does the Vicomte know that his wife is the cause of his blindness? Or that his son from his first wife is not the only heir he has?”

Edmée’s face was flushed with fury. “How. Dare. You,” she sputtered out. “How dare you! You have no right invading my personal life. You have no right meddling in affairs that do not concern you. I may have befriended Christine against your wishes, but you did not try to stop it after. Everything I went through was because of you! Everything that I have done for myself is to give myself what you tried to take away. My identity, my freedom, my right to be a human being and not a phantom as Christine had so lovingly called me.” Edmée laughed at the mere thought of her friend turned rival.

“My mother saved you!” Meg countered.

“Your mother imprisoned me as my mother had. I saved myself.” With that, Edmée grabbed her veil from Meg and stormed out the studio. Meg looked at her mother, but Madame Giry lifted her hand to signal for her to let Edmée go.

They would soon see each other again.

The next day, Edmée arrived at the opera house early, anxious to read more of the Phantom’s musings. Once she arrived she looked for Meg Giry but was unable to find the dancing instructor. So, letting one of the stagehands know where she was going, she began the trip back down to the Phantom’s lair.

        The lair was dark, as the usual guide had not been down yet to light the candles. Edmée went around lighting them one by one with loving care. After the candles were lit, she settled into a chair near the lone table and opened the journal, picking up where she left off.

        Ma Chère Confidente,

        Christine has progressed nicely in her lessons. We have expanded her vocal range nearly a whole octave. We have been practicing whenever she goes to the chapel to pray for her father.

        I’ve learned he himself was very talented musically, usually playing the violin for Christine to sing along. I have done some research in the newspapers that Madame Giry brings me and found that he was rather famous, both here in Paris and his home country of Sweden.

        Her mother had died in childbirth. At first I thought it was during her pregnancy with Christine, but apparently she had died giving birth to Christine’s little sister, who died shortly after birth herself. Her mother was also a singer, though I have been unable to find anything else about her. Christine remembers her only vaguely.

        Christine’s unwavering love for her father reminds me of my own, though I don’t remember him much. I do remember that he was a cruel man, having sold me to the circus when I was very young. Apparently, my face frightened him, though he had claimed his reason was that I reminded him of my dear deceased mother, Marie. I’ve a picture of her, and while there is only a slight resemblance, my horrendous face is no match to her lovely one. We do share an eye shape, and my lips have a vague likeness to her own, but beyond that I cannot see. Perhaps my outward hideousness stems from my father’s inward ugliness. He is still alive, as far as I know. When Christine tells me the lovely stories of her father, I find I am envious of her pleasant memories. Perhaps I’ve become the green-eyed monster inside that I am outside.

        Edmée wiped away a tear that streamed down her cheek. This poor child had been through so much that it broke Edmée’s heart. As she flipped the page, a piece of paper fell out of the journal. Edmée picked it up and eyed it. It was a rough draft of a lullaby, full of scratched out words and notes. Edmée set the music aside and continued to read the journal.

        Ma Chère Confidente,

        Today was Christine’s birthday. She said that she was turning sixteen, meaning we are the same age now! As a gift, I composed a song for her. I had intended for it to be a ballad, but it somehow turned into a lullaby.

        Edmée paused and picked up the music again. It was clearly a song meant for a soprano, as it had sweet and sweeping high notes. She hummed it to herself with her usual perfect pitch. It was so beautiful.

        Christine loved the song when I sang it for her. She said it reminded her of a childhood friend. When I pressed her for more details, she told me of a young man who had been a dear friend. The boy had run into the sea to rescue the scarf she was wearing the first night I sang to her.

        Oddly, I felt my jealousy rearing its ugly head again. Something about this boy I instinctively didn’t like. Maybe it was because I wished Christine would speak of me with as much fondness as she spoke of this Raoul de Chagny.

        This sentence made Edmée pause. Of course, she knew Christine and Raoul had loved each other. After all, they had been married for almost twenty years. Still, it was different seeing it in this child’s writing.

        “Edmée!”

        Edmée jumped and shut the journal, using the lullaby to mark her place. She turned and saw little Meg Giry. “Miss Giry! You frightened me.”

        Meg giggled. “Forgive me. I was waiting for you in the lobby when one of the stagehands said you told him you were coming down here. How did you find your way back down?”

        “I have a good memory,” Edmée said quietly.

        “Oh, okay,” Meg said, a little too cheerfully for Edmée’s liking. “Anyway, would you like to go watch the rehearsal? They’re starting soon.”

        Edmée nodded. When Meg turned away, Edmée slipped the small journal into the pocket of her cloak. She had to read more about this “Phantom” girl.