This chapter turned out much longer than I had expected, and so I broke it up into two chapters. Sorry to prolong your excitement, but I do hope that it is not entirely unsatisfying.
Ch. 9
Erik had just finished tying his cream-colored cravat when he heard a knock on his door.
"Ms. Crawley wishes to see you, Sir," he heard Mr. Matthews' voice on the other side.
Erik called for him to let her in, though he had suddenly felt extremely nervous. Was she coming to tell him that she would not follow through with the wedding, when it was only in two hours?
Once the door had opened, he turned around to see her walk in and shut the door behind herself. She was wearing a light violet-colored dress; certainly not a wedding dress.
Erik felt the stab of dread that went through his heart as he feared the worst.
"Should you not be preparing yourself?" he asked, concerned, as he furrowed his eyebrows at her.
He was not exactly certain how much time was required in order for a lady to dress herself, or how she would need to prepare her appearance, but he was certain that she should at least begin to take time more seriously.
She did not exactly answer his question, instead; she slowly strode across the room to him and stopped in front of him with a sly smile that played upon her lips.
"I only wanted to see my future husband," she purred.
Once she had reached a hand up to stroke the side of his face, Erik could not help but to become stiff at the thought of her touching him.
Was he dreaming? Why would she ever take such liberties, when she had clearly been disinterested in him?
But oh, how it felt wonderful to have her fingertips on the normal side of his face, slowly tracing his jawline. He even closed his eyes to savor the moment, remembering that the last time he had been touched was years ago, and it had not been as sweet as this.
Christine had touched his face and even kissed his lips, but it was only to save herself and her Vicomte, and then he had to watch her leave.
But Estella was willingly caressing his skin and soon, she would be his wife.
Did this mean that she wished to be friends? That she would favor his company? Would she-dare he think it-even grace him with a kiss? One sweet moment of happiness?
She cupped his face in both hands and he felt himself on the verge of losing control. This woman was maddening, and if she did not cease in her affections then he would not be able to stop himself from kissing her.
He opened his eyes to see her devilish grin, and it was the slight unnaturalness of her smirk that caused him alarm, for he was too late to discover what her true intentions were before she had ripped off his mask without hesitation.
For a moment, he had not realized what had happened or had been too shocked for it to seem real. But once her face had contorted into a look of terror and her screams filled the air, he felt his heart shatter and the anger overtake him.
She backed away from him with wide eyes and clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her final gasp.
"Yes, it is best that you cower from me before any real harm befalls you!" he seethed at her.
He slowly and dangerously stepped closer to her and she took a few steps back, until she was cornered beside the bedroom door. He glared at her with all of the fury and despair that he felt and he watched her hand slowly grasp the doorknob as she prepared herself to leave.
And then he observed how her countenance changed. After the initial wave of shock and fear that had swept through her, she had developed a smirk on her face.
"I knew that I could never marry you!" she spat at him, even gaining the courage to laugh in mockery. "You are a monster!"
Those were the final words that rung through his ears before she flew open the door and ran as fast as she could, away from him.
Erik's eyes fluttered open and he was panting heavily as he sat up to discover that he had been sleeping beneath his golden satin sheets. Glancing around the room, he could hardly decipher the shapes of his furniture, as darkness had consumed it.
He first wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and placed his head in his hands, reassuring himself that it had only been a dream. A terrible, terrible dream, but it had not been real.
The remnants of his nightmare still permeated his thoughts, and he found that he had no desire to return to sleep. Instead, he lit a few candles and took notice of the time.
It was nearly six o'clock in the morning, and his wedding was in not even seven hours. Soon the sun would rise to greet the beginning of a new day, and soon he would bind the rest of his life to a woman whom he hardly knew.
But was it not enough to know of what she suffered? Though he did not know the trivial things, such as what her favorite color was, or what pursuits she had enjoyed, did he not feel as if the two were already one in spirit, having shared the same type of life that had been outcast and shamed from society? Or was he making the worst decision of his life by wedding her?
These things he pondered for hours, finding himself both troubled and restless during the morning. Too anxious to sit in one place for long, he often stood to pace back and forth, only to return to his seat beside the window and attempt to clear his mind as he watched the warm and bright colors fill the sky.
If she would marry him but wish to keep to herself, perhaps even avoiding him altogether, then so be it. If she should never appear and prevent herself from giving her hand to him in marriage, then there was nothing that he could do. He was powerless to anything that would transpire that day, and the realization of it drove him insane.
How could he render himself so vulnerable? This was not like him; to be so helpless in how things would play out. Throughout his life at the Opera Populaire he had always made certain to be aware of what was going on and to be in control, even if by means of warnings and instilling fear in others. No one dared to disobey him, and his instructions were certain to be followed if he made his presence known in the slightest.
The last time that he had felt so completely and utterly helpless was when he had watched Christine abandon him. He could remember the feeling of being unable to stop her as he watched the boat drift further and further away. And it was a feeling that he had been determined never to experience again.
And yet, here he found himself unable to control what would happen. If Estella should leave him at the altar, then he would once again be that broken man who sat beside the lake for the last time.
Of course he had not developed the same romantic attachment to Estella as he had Christine, but though he had been fearful of his future with her, he could not deny that a small part of him had reignited the fire of hope-hope for companionship, for understanding, and a friend.
If she should leave him, then it would most certainly be his downfall. How could he ever live through two rejections? Though he did not risk as much this time, for his heart was not enveloped by her, he could not endure the thought of yet another reminder of the terrible fate which had been destined for him.
At nine o'clock he went to the room that would be hers and made certain that it was ready, and after deciding that it was, he ordered for a carriage to take Ms. Thorson to John's estate. There were only four hours before the wedding, and he knew that Estella would require the assistance of her Lady's Maid in order to prepare herself, if she should even still be found there at all.
Part of him worried that she would not be found, but he decided to cast his fears aside and focus on the business of his estate as it was prepared for the arrival of his bride.
"I cannot do this! I am not prepared!" Estella panicked.
Marguerite Thorson closed the bedroom door behind herself and slowly made her way towards the fearful woman with a warm smile on her face.
"I am certain that everything will turn out well, M'Lady," she replied in a soothing voice.
Estella turned to look at the auburn-haired woman, feeling unusual to be discussing her thoughts with another person.
She was not accustomed to having a companion, and when she had first heard that she was to have a Lady's Maid, she thought it highly unnecessary. After all, had she not dressed and tended to herself throughout the years? Was she a child, to be viewed as incapable of doing these tasks on her own?
And yet, she somehow found it comforting to have another woman's presence in the room, especially since it was not that of Hattie's.
"May I prepare your dress for you, Ms. Crawley? It will take some time, and we are to leave in two hours," Ms. Thorson asked.
Estella gestured toward the glistening ivory-colored bundle of fabric that had been laid out on her bed. Ms. Thorson picked it up with gentle hands to admire it.
"What a beautiful dress it is, M'Lady," she remarked, her smile widening as she searched for the other articles of clothing that would be required.
"Beautiful it may be, but not to the pocketbook! I have not been acquainted with having money or making purchases, and once the shopkeeper had discovered how much Mr. Destler had given me, she insisted that I purchase the most expensive gown in her possession!" Estella rubbed her temples in frustration.
The entirety of the morning thus far had ocurred in the same fashion; she had awoken earlier in the dawn than was her habit, and found herself too anxious to leave the room. She had already denied taking any meals, for her stomach was too unsettled for it.
"Do not upset yourself, M'Lady; he will not mind."
"That is not the point! I was pressured into it, just as I have been pressured into all of this! It is as if I do not have a choice!"
Estella had contemplated the original idea of escaping the house in the early hours of the morning, but had decided against it. She may have been poor and undesirable, but destitution and homelessness were not circumstances that she wished to ever experience.
"It is normal to be anxious on your wedding day. Your feelings will settle," Ms. Thorson located a corset and placed it beside the wedding gown.
"Is it normal?" Estella questioned. "Is it normal to be marrying a man after only meeting him two weeks ago? After only speaking to each other twice? Probably it is more common for women to marry without love or acquaintance than I would imagine, but I never wished to be one of them!"
Estella was now pacing back and forth, running her fingers over the top of her hair and feeling as if she could hardly contain her bursting emotions for much longer. Then, she stopped in front of the tall looking glass and touched her cheek.
How often she had gazed at her reflection, wishing that she had a lighter complexion, wishing that she had not been cursed with the golden hue of her skin. How beautiful could she look on her wedding day, when the very sight of her was an abhorrence?
"What if I am a disappointment to him? Will he not realize what a mistake it is to marry someone like me?"
The tears had formed in her eyes the more that she glanced at herself in comparison to Ms. Thorson. While the maid was not exactly stunning in appearance, she still had porcelain-colored skin. She was still considered normal. Even if she did not draw attention as a servant, at least she did not draw the negative attention of others, as Estella had.
Marguerite slowly walked over to Estella and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Mr. Destler is a very kind and gentle man. He has not lived without hardships that he has suffered, himself," she said.
Though she did not know her master on a personal level, she could speak from the experience of him as an employer. He was always a gentleman in his dealings with the servants; he never lost his temper or demanded anything harshly. And though he had preferred his solitude and was rarely to be seen, she had, on rare occasions, noticed the sadness in his eyes that would consume him.
Estella swallowed her tears without letting a single one escape, and she turned to Ms. Thorson with curiosity.
"So you know him? Do you know what he is hiding? Why he wears the mask?"
Marguerite shook her head.
"I only know how he treats the servants, and I can assure you that he is nothing comparable to what you are fearing."
Though she had not answered her questions, Estella felt a little relieved to be reassured by someone else as to the character of the man who would be her husband. And though she was still uncomfortable with the idea of marriage to him, she knew that, in the end, she could not refuse. The alternative was simply not an option.
Nearly two hours later with ten minutes to spare, Estella stood with her back to the mirror. Ms. Thorson had just announced to her that she had completed her preparations.
They had been a grueling few hours, for never had Estella experienced so much discomfort in the tying of her corset, of being assisted into such an extravagant gown, and having her hair primped and manipulated.
She had not seen what she looked like, and part of her did not wish to. What if she did not look as she had dreamed about on her wedding day? How could she, with her appearance?
"He had me bring these for you," Ms. Thorson said, pulling out a flat box out of the parcels that she had brought with her.
Estella stared at the black velvet box in wonder, and when it had been opened to reveal its contents, her hand flew to her mouth in surprise.
Glistening in the light that streamed through the window were the most beautiful jewels that she had ever laid eyes upon. Not even Hattie's jewelry could compare, and she felt entirely undeserving as she gazed at the sparkling clusters of diamonds.
"I could not possibly..." she gasped.
Ms. Thorson wore a wide smile as she watched her Lady's surprise. How beautiful she had looked, and for her to wear the jewels would most certainly please Mr. Destler.
"If you are to be his wife, then you must become accustomed to a different way of life," she said, walking behind her to place the jewels about Estella's neck.
Estella allowed the gesture, though she felt that she should refuse. If he was already bestowing such lavish gifts upon her-and she was throughly perplexed as to his motives for doing so-then certainly he expected something from her in return. No man would do such a thing without wanting something, and though he had assured her that he would not request anything except for friendship if she wished, she found it difficult to believe.
Before she knew it, Ms. Thorson had adorned her with the matching teardrop earrings as well, and she knew that it was too late to refuse any of what was happening. She was wearing the dress, decorated in his gemstones, and the ceremony was only an hour away. She was going to get married.
Ms. Thorson put the box away and packed up her belongings.
"It is a bit of a journey, M'Lady. Are you prepared for our departure?"
Estella nodded her head, though she felt as if she were in a daze. It was surreal to think that she would no longer remain unmarried and living under her uncle's roof. If she were to have more freedom than the life of a caged animal, she did not know, but she had never imagined that the day would come in which she would be someone's bride.
"Do you not wish to see yourself?"
Estella thought about the absurdity of the question, though a part of her was curious. Still, no matter how she had been painted and dressed up, she knew that it could not hide her most undesirable quality.
"I do not think so," she admitted softly, glancing down at the floor in embarrassment.
Ms. Thorson looked up at her with a saddened expression.
"Please permit me to say so, M'Lady; I understand how you must be feeling, but you will only ever be a bride once, and you are certainly lovely this morning. Do you wish to regret never knowing?"
Estella sighed in defeat. Of course she wished to know. As ashamed of her skin as she was, she could not help but to be self-conscious and to wonder.
She took a deep breath before she turned around, and even she had not expected to see the woman who was staring back at her in the glass.
Though unprepared for the expense of the gown, she now admired its beauty. An ivory-colored satin, the bodice glimmered with every movement and hugged her body to accentuate her curves. The train flowed outwards and cascaded to the floor, parting in the front of the dress to reveal the lace beneath it. The thin chiffon sleeves hung off of her shoulders, giving a glow to her skin and exposing the diamond necklace that rested on her collarbone. Her hair had been pulled upward into twists and curls that spilled forth from underneath her lace veil, and her lips were painted a scarlet red.
These details could not mask the fact that she still had the same, undesirable skin color, but she thought that she was probably as close to the idealistic glowing bride that she could possibly be.
If my mother and father were alive to share this moment, even if it is bittersweet...
She closed her eyes and released a long sigh in an attempt to calm her nerves before she finally said that she was ready to leave.
It proved to be a great difficulty to navigate around the house and to the door in the large dress, but with the assistance of Ms. Thorson, they had managed not to tear it on anything. As she reached the door, she noticed her cousin peering at her in the doorway of the sitting room. She could feel her glare, and she stopped in front of her.
Her uncle was nowhere to be seen, but it was just as well, for she had no desire to say her farewell to him. He had never shown her a bit of love or care, in fact; she had felt only as a burden to him, and she was eager to never see him again.
But with Hattie, on the other hand, she would enjoy the moment. Too many times she had watched her younger cousin leave the house to attend balls and gatherings, dressed in attire that Estella could never dream of owning or wearing, and left to never experience the joy of a dance, herself. Too many times she had listened to Hattie's taunting remarks. And though she was never one to be puffed up with pride, she could not help but to gloat a little in the moment.
"It should be I who is to marry him!" she hissed. "You do not deserve a man of his fortune, and it is I who should be esteemed above you!"
For once, Estella tilted her chin and held her head high with a smirk.
"He esteems you so much that you are not even invited to the wedding," she remarked with a grin. "Goodbye Hattie. I will never look back at our memories and say that I should miss you."
And with that, she opened the door and stepped out into the warm morning sun, marking the start of her new life.
