"Perfect." Christine swung a costume off a rack, looking over it's shimmering fabric cheerfully. "Absolutely perfect."

Next to her, a women just a few inches taller than Christine herself, gave a small smile. "I'm glad it's up to your tastes." She said briskly. "And if you make a few changes, I don't think anyone will mind."

Christine nodded and looped the gown over her dress. "I cannot believe we still have so many costumes." She admitted looking over the candle lit racks and racks of gowns, robes, and props.

"Well, they're useful from time to time." The seamstress confided. "Often we make brand new costumes by stitching two or three together."

They began walking down the row, the seamstress holding a candle up to light their way. "The younger seamstresses often draw straws to come and fetch costumes." The women laughed. "They're afraid of the ghost."

"Well, it's only when you get to the third level there starts to be trouble. I've heard." Christine commented, rearranging the silver fabric. "I must say, I'm very glad I thought to ask you about costuming."

"Well, I know you won't have any trouble keeping it nice and clean." The seamstress replied. "And being invited to the New Years Ball is no small thing! You ought to dress your best, and not waste all your savings for a one night dress just to impress the higher ups." She gave Christine an approving eye. "You've got sense."

"About the ball." Christine murmured. "I would prefer to keep it quiet. Invitations are dreadfully hard to come by, and some people might think I was-' she hesitated. "Doing some, "favors" for the higher ups. Which I am not-" she said firmly. "And will never do."

"Of course." A round eye winked at Christine. "I've got sense too."

She laughed, and they turned and began climbing the stairs up the ground level.

Christmas rolled around, and the whole theatre enjoyed a few weeks off. Christine spent her time sewing her costume to the shape and look she wanted. She had actually splurged again, buying a coil of silver colored wire that she shaped into a crown of sorts. It didn't look half bad, she thought, whilst securing it on her head with pins. In fact, it looked rather nice.

The sewing was more relaxed than the wedding gown had been, but the approaching New Year made Christine spend many a hour hunch over the shimmering fabric, furiously sewing.

On Christmas day, she woke and dressed, headed straight to the Giry's. As always, she spent Christmas day with them.

There, Christine and the Giry's had a filling breakfast, then circled round the a small tree heavily decorated with tinsel and candy to open the gifts they had brought.

Madame Giry received some pins from her daughter, and a good copy of Ivanhoe from Christine. When Meg ripped open her packages to fine silk stockings from her mother, and a knitted shawl from Christine, she shrieked with excitement and thank them both thoroughly.

As Christine began unpacking a string of crocheted lace from Madame Giry, Meg suddenly cried-

"Why- I forgot the package."

Madame Giry looked up, startled. "Oh. Yes. Do fetch that will you Meg."

Meg disappeared upstairs, and came running back down with a package so large that she struggled to carry down the stairs.

It was wrapped in brown packing paper, tied with a green ribbon.

"This appeared on the counter this morning when I came down to start a fire." Meg admitted. "Mama said to save it, for a surprise."

Then she gave it to Christine, placing it on the floor. Carefully Christine kneeled down beside it, she picked it up gingerly.

The package, she felt, was soft and felt like cloth. She checked the card tied to the ribbon, she noticed with surprise the ribbon was made of silk. The card had one word written on it, in black, scrawling ink.

Christine

It made Christine's heart drop. Gently she touched a beautifully tied bow on top of the package, slowly she pulled it apart. Meg watched intently, Madame Giry seemed a bit stunned herself.

Christine unwrapped the paper, carefully pulling it apart, saving it from being ripped. It uncovered four smaller wrapped packages of various sizes. Each one tied with a green silk ribbon.

Christine picked up the first and pulled it apart, at first glance, the contents appeared to be green fabric. Christine grasped it and carefully lifted it from the paper.

Meg gasped.

It was a dress, no, a gown, a green gown. With the most beautiful lace, flowers and roses, trimming the edges. And it was made of-

"Silk." Madame Giry breathed. "That is made out of silk."

It was styled in the latest fashion, a high collar, and a jacket that fastened in the front. The queen wouldn't have been ashamed to wear it, it probably cost more than Christine made in a year.

They were all very quiet, then Meg whispered quietly, "There's more isn't there?"

Christine gently set the dress aside, laying it on the table next to her and took up a slighter smaller brown package. She unwrapped it as well, once again she was shocked.

There was a chemise, several petticoats and bloomers. Madame Giry ran a hand over them and frowned.

"This is Egyptian cotton." She announced. "It's more comfortable than silk, and almost as durable." When they stared at her, she gave a thin smile and shrugged. "Carlotta insists all her under garments be Egyptian cotton."

There were silk stockings and gloves at the bottom, green tinged and wonderfully smooth.

"Two more more packages." Meg whispered, pale and eyes the size of saucers.

Christine nodded, and picked another up, this one was harder. In fact, it felt like-

"Shoes!" Meg squealed. Black and brightly shining, Christine ran her hands over the smooth surface, wondering what the last package was.

She picked the last one up, this one was the smallest, it could fit in her hand comfortably. But it weighed quite a bit, and felt extremely solid.

It was an emerald necklace, or at least, considering the quality of the rest of the clothes, Christine assumed that it was real emeralds. Set in silver, with a large bright green jewel in the center. There was a pair of earrings to go with it, and a small package of hairpins, studded with the sparkling things.

"Green is your best color." Meg admitted. "Whoever got all this has really good taste."

Madame Giry nodded, looking pale herself. "Truly, this is an expensive and beautiful gift."

Christine nodded, looking at the jewels in her head, they seemed to shimmer and gleam in the lamp light. "I must say," she croaked. "I was not- never expected-.-"

"Try it on!" Meg cried suddenly. "You simply must. Oh goodness-" she took the silk gown and draped it over her shoulder. "I've never had silk before." She gestured to a door in the living room. "You can change in Mamam's room."

It took some time, she changed out of her starched white shirt and brown skirt and stripped off her under garments.

The Egyptian cotton was beautifully sleek and comfortable, Christine wished she could wear it every day. The stockings were just her size, and the shoes, though they had heels, were wonderfully comfortable and would last a long time.

Finally she slipped on the dress, she was surprised that no bustle was necessary. It was supported by her layers of petticoats. Whoever had given her this dress knew her tastes. She hated bustles with a passion.

The wrists were a little loose, and the waist just a bit big. But that could easily be fixed, as long as she had the courage to cut such fine fabric. She let her corset out a little to make up for the difference in her waist.

The necklace and earring's came next to last, and finally she pinned up her hair in her usual style.

Then she stood in the room, feeling better dressed than she ever had before, suddenly too embarrassed to come out.

She ran her hands down the material, surprised to find a pocket. She reached inside and felt paper, she drew it out and saw it was a letter.

She ripped it open, finding a fine piece of paper, on it in that same untidy scrawl she read-

I hope this satisfy's your need for a formal dress.

Tears dripped from her eyes as she read the note. She clenched it in one hand, cursing and blessing him at the same time.

"Erik." She whispered. "Erik you fool I can't wear this. Not unless I was a duchess."

There was a tentative knock on the door. "Christine? Are you done?"

"I-I." Christine took a deep breath and fetched her handkerchief from her skirt, she wiped her eyes vigorously. "Yes. Just a moment."

Carefully she began her breathing exercises, furiously dabbing her eyes whenever a tear leaked out.

When she moved out of the room, Meg gave a heavenly sigh. "Oh. You look like a queen."

Madame Giry said nothing, instead she gazed at Christine sharply. Christine smiled weakly back, but didn't reply to her or her daughter.

"Turn around!" Meg cried. "Oh. Why, you look like you made for silk and jewels."

"And Egyptian cotton." Christine reminded her whilst spinning slowly.

"And Egyptian cotton." Meg agreed. "If I didn't know better I would say you're some duchess."

"I'm going to have to return this." Christine whispered. "I can't keep this. This is far too expensive to accept."

Meg starred, then marched up to Christine and grasped her shoulders. "You have to keep it. You don't know who sent it, and-and goodness, who wouldn't want it?"

"But where would I wear it?" Christine snapped, suddenly feeling irritable. "I'm not in the habit of going to balls, and I certainly can't wear this to work. And heavens," she waved her hand. "if I walked down the street I'd practically be masquerading as a noble. Which I am not, no matter what Emily wishes."

Meg wilted. "You could wear it to our Sunday dinners." She suggested weakly.

"Meg, do you really think that Sunday dinner are the best use of this dress?" Madame Giry said sharply.

"I-I." Christine pursed her lips. "I'm going home."

"What?" Meg asked. "But what about dinner. Mother's been teaching me how to make cookies-"

"I'm sorry. I- I'm going home." Christine said, now firm in her decision. "Just as soon as I-" she turned round and began storming towards the bedroom door. "get out of this dress."

Half an hour she walked down the street clutching the package, cursing that dress with every puff of ice that blew from her mouth.

At a road though, she stopped and leaned against a building. She leaned against it gratefully and let a few tears escape her eyes.

What use did she have with such finery? None. She told herself. None whatsoever. And it didn't feel right, wearing a dress and clothes that cost more than what she made in a year several times over. Why? Why, did he have to make things so difficult?

She gritted her teeth. She wasn't mad about the clothing, truly, she was flattered and some part of her wanted to keep them. But the fact that she would have to give them back to Erik, knowing it would hurt him so, and that he had meant so well.

Another tear escaped from her mouth. She hated to hurt him like this.

Then she turned on her heels and began to travel towards the Opera House with long, deliberate steps.