"Mama, Papa!" Carlotta cried as she entered the estate, "We're home!"
"Ah Carlotta," Monsieur Gustava said taking her hands and kissing her lightly on her forehead. "Where is your sister, we were just about to sit for supper?"
"I am here papa." Christine said as she followed Carlotta in.
"He just refused to start without you two; I mean what was honestly taking so long?" Clarissa said standing between the doors and the dining chamber.
"Well mother what do you expect; the carriage ride alone is most thirty minutes." Carlotta said walking passed her mother and lightly kissing her on the cheek.
"It matters not, they are home and safe." Their father said as he led Christine into the dining hall. "How was village?"
"It was as it always is not much excitement as I would hope." Christine replied as she sat next to her father at the table.
"Well you mustn't compare the village to those books you read my dear." He laughed sitting at the head of the table. "If I were to do such a thing everything would seem tedious."
"There is no excitement anywhere in the village, what adventure and danger do we have in this simple way of life?" Christine said as she looked at her father.
"Do you honestly think this life is simple?" Clarissa said looking up at Christine with her eyes large and her tone stern. "There is nothing simple about it, out here we have so little resources I am surprised you two own more than one gown! The shops never carry the latest fashion and if they do their prices are horrid. Plus that counts finding suitable food and useful servants. Just wait until you are married and have to run your own household."
"Your mother's right," Gustava stated looking up from his soup. "Wait till you are settled with children and a husband. I think you should find all the adventure you need."
"What adventure is there in marriage?" Christine asked looking at either one of them.
"They are mistaken Christine," Carlotta said with her sweet, sly smile. "It is not the marriage that is the adventure, but the chase of a proposal. Driving the man to become weak in the knees and pine over you as if he were dying. That is the true adventure and fun."
"Detail to me how that could be considered fun?" Christine asked. "What joy is it in watching a woman make a man chase after her as if she is a prize to be won? I mean is that truly love?"
"Oh Christine," Clarissa smiled. "Your innocence is a very handsome feature however I am afraid it is a trait that many shall take advantage of. If I were not here I am sure you would marry the first man that claimed he loved you."
Looking toward Clarissa, Christine's smile grew as she said with her sturdy tone. "Yes, thank goodness."
"Do you really think I am too innocent?" Christine asked as she stared her father whom studied the chess pieces as if the battle were true.
Looking up at her a low laughter forming in his throat. "Innocence is the wrong choice of words. I think what your mother means to say is naive."
"Naive? When have I ever produced evidence of naivety?" Christine said looking up at her father.
"Please my dear do not be so offended by this, but you have been sheltered all your life away from much of the dangers of the world. You are intelligent, much greater than some of the men I know, but you are still young and you still must learn of this world today."
"And when shall that be?" She stated knocking his queen of the board.
"In time," He smiled touching her face lightly. "This chamber seems a little dull, Christine will you play for us. I think we are all in need of some music."
"That would be lovely, yes Christine please play." Carlotta said looking up from her book.
Arising from her seat it made Christine feel as if she were being put on centre stage at the Opera Populair as the company's star performer. Having visiting it twice before to admire the grand ballet and opera being performed when she was a child she had hoped one day to perform for the crowds. The walk to the dark wooden stool carved for her was short and sweet yet she felt her father and sister's eyes watching as she sat herself down and placing her fingers on the polished keys. No matter the sonata, the composer or mood, the music spoke to Christine allowing her fingers to be guided to the correct notes, tone and creating a magical melody that could charm the deepest darkness into the light. Allowing the tune of the soft music to echo with the peddle on the piano pressing up and down it filled Christine's imagination with images which could only be seen in heaven or in utopia. Her concentration was strict on the music, unbreakable once she started despite her mother's loud sips of tea and her father's deep cough. Yet with the slam of the door Christine's fingers lifted from the keys.
"Forgive me milord, but I have a message from," The timid boy replied looking at his master. "From, him."
"What does he want of me?" Gustava said with his tone changing and springing to his feet.
"He requests your presence," The boy said parting, allowing Gustava to walk passed him. "Immediately."
"Is something the matter?" Clarissa asked looking up watching her husband.
"No I have business to attend too." Gustava said without stopping sweeping over his shoulders his long cloak. "I shall return later."
"Father you cannot leave at this hour. Cannot it wait till morning?" Christine asked standing up calling after him.
"No!" Gustava shouted slamming behind him the heavy wooden door.
Christine lingered in the hall watching the door of his study and feeling as if he had slammed it in her face. Never had the tone he used been featured so fearsomely and heavily. Lingering throughout the home the dreaded silence returned swallowing her thoroughly with it.
"My word he was quite cross." Carlotta said folding down her book.
"I cannot recall when he last used that tone." Clarissa said with laughter in her tone as if directed toward Christine. "Oh well he is a busy man, we mustn't disturb him. Christine come back and finish playing for us."
"Hmm, yes." She said still watching the door.
The morning sun had not yet arisen yet Christine lay awake in her bed as if it were of mid day time. Her eyes did blaze as if the sun had focussed on them while her mind raced with thoughts and images of what had happened and what was yet to come. To her it felt as if her mind had never shut off, running a continuous race with all that occurred throughout the evening past. Her entire body felt restless, with her legs jumping in place as if dancing while her fingers seemed to keep the rhythm of the music that played within her. Unable to hold herself still Christine arose to her feet grabbing within the instant the gown that lay upon her dressing chair. The thin ribbons that she could reach with her skinny arms and tender fingers wrapped themselves within each one as she tightened and pulled her gown to fit her body. The gown of soft yellow seemed to mimic the morning light that echoed across the midsummer's sky while the silk ribbons of white and tender greens.
If but a moment Christine caught her reflection in the mirror seeing her long wavy curls and glossy eyes. Like a small child, discovering herself for the first time she felt frightened and somewhat fascinated at the image before her. Turning her head from side to side with her eyes glazed and her heart thundering. For what figure she saw before her was not that of a beauty or of a divine being but of herself, a woman of plain and content features. While she did not think herself to be ugly she did not think herself either to but of the greatest temptation. That framed reflection she felt was no greater than her sister or even that of her stepmother, she failed to see how mute the men would become when looking at her unable to open their eyes or ears to listen to her.
The stairs in the hall leading to the great entry way of the home creaked and cracked under each gentle step she took upon them. Not a candle was lit nor a sound was made by a soul within the estate as the morning sun had just graced the earth with its presences. To Christine it was that moment in time in which she felt as if she were the only one in the world, standing at last amongst peace and tranquility. Her soft, naked foot pressed against the flooring as if it were cold winter's ice. Like so many times before she felt the desire to run or at least seek some escape from the haunted estate. The door had yet to be unlocked yet Christine saw this as a chance to explore the world as if she were a forgotten shadow unlike the radiant light while glimpses in the eye of all who look. The lock was soft as she gently turned the handle leading her to the world which she desired above all to discover. The air was soft on her tired lungs yet awoke her senses in a way which only an animal's was. Her eyes shore brightly, gazing at all she could that stretched across the land. The door behind her closed quite tightly as she slipped her hands and feet from the safety of her stone and onto the unconquered dirt. The rush of her feet on the ground that appeared to be slipping out from under her was hard yet provided comfort to her sense of freedom.
The sun played its role of the mask quite well in the overall masquerade of the summer's morn. Blinded by the great light all that passed failed to see the fog that hung in the air covering the green ground preventing the traveler to see where their next step would take them. Yet Christine did not fear the unknown which lay before, too many times had she walked in the grass as the path soon became instilled in her memory. She remembered how soft and embracive the grass felt between her bare toes. She could count the days in which the fog would fall and kiss her face with its soft water droplets. The sun had still remained at rest as she saw in the distances an image which she had longed to see for a while now. The top of the building was that like a glowing torch arising from the darkness which had swallowed all in its path. The white frame and golden windows were that of a holy appearance and a place Christine called her haven from her home. The church itself held memories some which Christine loved, loathed and hoped to come. Yet it was that morning that she was not there to visit the church but what lay beneath the ground it stood upon. Treated unkindly by time the grave had formed a thick layer of thrones where no roses bloomed or any gentle flower. The words of her mother's name had been hidden from the world by moss and dirt making her grave but a pauper's. Sitting on the soft and moist ground Christine reached with her timid fingers and began to clear the thrones and soil which covered her beloved mother's name. The ground was soft and welcoming to plants yet nothing grew but weeds and dreaded dead plants.
Sitting herself softly upon the grass with her hands touching gently on the stone she began to clear away so that she may admire her mother as she did when she was a child. Christine could recall her mother's scent of fresh roses and sweet tea she would drink as she sat staring at her husband as he would play the violin while Christine would sit at her feet listening ever so tenderly. That memory was all Christine had of her mother, her scent and her gentle posture, as she died before Christine could remember anything more dear about her mother. At a young age Christine was left alone to be raised by her father yet Christine always remembered her mother and believed her to be an angel as he father described her to be so many times before.
Dusting the dirt from her gown Christine looked upon her mother's grave as if it were to be for the final time. Smiling at her mother's sweet name Christine kissed her soft pale fingers and pressed them tightly to the stone as if she were reaching for her hand. Turning back to walk home before her father and Carlotta discovered she was missing Christine saw the soft glowing light and the raising song. The candlelight was dull as it shown through the windows of the church yet Christine could see it regardless. Yet it was not the ghostly light that surprised Christine but rather the timid music which appear to arise from the shadows. It appeared to be the organ which had been long abandoned as no one appeared to know how to tame the beast. The keys were pressed with the most care and the music played upon it was of the sweetest nature, much greater than Christine had ever played or heard before.
Feeling a quiver of fear and curiosity her body would not permit itself from standing still but rather she felt her entire being urging itself to follow that beautiful sound. Her feet seemed to pull her along as her feet seemed to be running while her entire body dragged behind.
Standing before the large white doors Christine pressed her fingers against the brass handles as if she were touching a butterfly's fragile wings. They made not a sound as they slowly opened to reveal to Christine a black figure sitting at the organ creating that lovely music. The figure sat with their shoulders forward and their back arched as if they were a statue craved to forever remain. Their head did not move as did the rest of their body preventing Christine to determine the gender of this being. Yet man or woman this figure appeared more like an angel than that of a human or made of stone. They seemed disconnected from the world and was raised to a place where no other human could reach. Their music seemed to flow so beautifully and evenly as if it were recorded. In this music Christine felt passion, love and strangely to her sadness as if this music was their life story.
Words failed to form in her mouth too dazed and marbled at this angelic figure in black. Able to hold her patience Christine felt her body drawn toward this figure yet with that one simple step her and this figures world was shattered. Placing their fingers gently on the organ as if it were a tender child they did not turn to face Christine as she hoped they would. Remaining sitting they held their composure as if returning to its original stone state. Christine too felt herself freeze in her spot afraid of what might occur. She could see this figure was larger than her and knew it would not take much to knock her down.
The silence lingered between them for but a moments longer before the figure turned his head unsure of the woman there. Able to see but half of his face she was relieved yet frightened at the sight of this ghostly man. His face was pale as the moonlight and yet his hair was as black as the night itself. The candlelight made Christine to imagine him to be this angel or phantom with his black structure and pale skin. Slowly arising from the wooden bench he did not make a sound as if his feet were not touching the ground. His body did turn as if someone was doing it for him in a slow and almost unnatural way.
Upon seeing his ghostly face Christine felt herself freeze in pure fear of this masked man which stood before her. He dressed completely in black yet his white compulsion made it appear as if he were not really there. He stood tall, towering over Christine from a distance, and his upper body was broad as if he were a worker. Their eyes seemed to lock on to one another as his a blazing bright green unlike any Christine had ever seen before. His stare was tense yet in his eyes Christine saw all the sadness in the world. He wore black gloves upon his hands completely covering almost all of his body in black but for his face.
Reaching behind his back Christine watched in full fear of what he might do yet she felt herself unable to move. Pulling large part of his cloak he quickly covered his face but for a bit of white of his mask which allowed him to see. Stepping down from the organ he slowly but surely approached Christine. Feeling herself tense up in fear she could not bear to look any longer but she did not desire to look away. His steps were long and lingering yet before she could move he stood but an arm's length away. She could smell his heavy scent of roses and what she thought to be a foreign spice. His entire being was cold and as he reached out to touch her long tamed curl she felt herself grow weak under his cold touch. Within the moments time of raising hand to touch this beautiful and bewildering creature he held her unconious body in his strong arms.