Author's Note: I was originally going to have this plus the wedding plus the wedding night all in one chapter, but it was getting too long. So, as usual, I've split things up. Have fun!
HD
Chapter 48
A Trip to the Church
Two Days before the Wedding
The wedding was in two days. Reynard, at Erik's request, had come to Perros a few days earlier, and Anna Valérius saw to it that one of the guest rooms in the new house was available for him. Anatole and Carlotta had likewise been invited. In fact, they had arrived before Reynard but chose instead to stay at the Inn of the Setting Sun, and had only rarely been seen outside their rooms.
Erik was giving Reynard a tour of the house, and the detective was amazed at how much was accomplished in such a short period of time. "I can't believe the house has been rebuilt so quickly. What has it been, less than one month?"
Erik nodded proudly. "I did everything humanly possible to see that it was completed on time. Christine and I had settled on the date for our wedding – two weeks after her twentieth birthday. All of us worked very hard to meet our self-imposed deadline, and the workers we'd hired seemed every bit as eager as the rest of us."
Reynard noticed the room full of furniture. "And all this? I wasn't aware so much had survived."
"We were pleasantly surprised at how many pieces from the interior rooms we were able salvage. With equal parts Mamma's special furniture polish and elbow grease, they look as good as new." Erik tapped the corner table. "The other pieces arrived last week from Paris, including the piano. It's the furniture from my old house."
Reynard chuckled. "So, it's not so much that you're moving out as moving to another location. Does this mean that you and Christine are going to settle in Perros?"
"For a while. Mamma has generously offered to let us to live here until we decide what we want to do. I used to be an architect, and I'm thinking I would like to get back into that field. Christine wants to sing again, and I would like nothing more than to see that she has the opportunity to do so. But we both agree, though, that it won't be in Paris. At least, not for now."
Reynard was suitable impressed. "You're fortunate in that you will have a mother-in-law with whom you get along. Not all men are so privileged. But where will you eventually go? Milan? Vienna? London?"
"We were thinking of America, of going to New York City. It's young and vital with many opportunities, and would provide us with a completely fresh start."
-0-0-0-
The Wedding Day - Morning
This was the morning of her wedding. Giddy with excitement, Christine jumped out of bed, having barely slept the night before. She rushed over to the window and threw it open, inhaling the fragrant air. She still could not believe she had been able to persuade Erik that they should have a Breton-style wedding with its many out-of-doors festivities. All night long, she had fretted that the weather would not cooperate in spite of Erik's assurances that all signs pointed to good weather.
Her fears turned out to have been for naught, as she was greeted by a picture-perfect day – the kind every bride dreamed of. She hugged herself as she looked up at the deep azure sky with its puffy bits of cotton floating lazily on the light southern breeze. Below, the newly landscaped yard was in full bloom, many plants having escaped damage from the fire including the lilac hedge and the rambling roses. Off in the distance she could see that the rocky coast ablaze with color. Birds twittered in the trees, including several wrens that had recently taken up residence in the steadfast apple tree, while bees buzzed as they searched for nectar. In the distance, the church bells were ringing, informing everyone in Perros that today was a special day.
-0-0-0-
Though the sun was barely up, Mamma's new house was astir with activity. Several ladies had come from Perros and had taken over the kitchen, preparing a wedding supper for later in the day. Mme Lebeque was upstairs with Mamma, helping Christine get dressed, and Reynard was with Erik, assisting with his preparations and offering some masculine company in a house full of women.
Mme Lebeque finished the final adjustments to ensure that the dress's fit was perfect, and was sewing the bodice fringe in place so that it accentuated Christine's figure to its fullest advantage. "There, what do you think?" she said to Mamma as she had Christine turn around so that they could both see the dress from all sides.
Mamma stepped back and wiped tears from her eyes. "It's…it's beautiful," she choked out.
"Are you all right, Mamma?" It troubled Christine to see Mamma overcome. "This is supposed to be a happy day, not a sad one."
Mamma sniffed and managed a smile that was part happy, part sad. "Ja, but of course I am all right."
"But you're crying." Christine rushed to her foster mother's side and put her arms around her.
"There would be something very wrong with your mother if she did not feel like crying," Mme Lebeque explained. "Her little girl has become a woman, and today she marries."
When they finished with the dress, Mme Lebeque brought out the veil. With Mamma's help, she set it atop Christine's head, and then finished it off with the orange blossom crown, the traditional symbol of bridal festivities. Christine looked at herself in the mirror and saw herself transformed into a vision of cream and white. "Is this really me? I…I look beautiful!"
The two older women laughed joyously. "But of course you look beautiful," Mme Lebeque said. "You are a bride, are you not?"
Christine looked around the room, then turned to Mamma. "I need my bouquet."
"Don't fret. I finished it up early this morning." Anna left the room and returned shortly with Christine's flowers. "I used the ones you chose."
"Oh, it's so beautiful!" Mme Lebeque exclaimed. "I would never have thought of using those. Is there a special reason for these particular blooms?"
"Yes. These red rosebuds in the center are a symbol of my undying love for Erik. Around them, I chose lavender for our devotion to one another, baby's breath for his gentleness, and everlastings because our love is eternal."
-0-0-0-
Erik fussed as he dressed. "When I let Christine talk me into a Breton wedding, I didn't realize that meant the whole village was coming," he muttered, more out of nervousness than anything else. He picked up his jacket, a smart-looking morning coat of deep claret, and allowed Reynard to help him put it on. The morning coat was set off by a black vest, dark gray trousers, and a neatly folded cravat, also dark gray. To finish the ensemble, there were pearl-colored gloves with black embroidery.
"Just pretend you're dressing for the opera," Reynard teased. He saw Erik's hands tremble slightly as he tried to adjust his cravat. "You're not nervous, are you? Here, you forgot this," he said, handing Erik the boutonniere that Christine had made – a single red rose bud with small sprigs of baby's breath and lavender, tied together with a bit of ribbon to match her bouquet.
Erik frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. "Nervous? Me? Of course not. Why should I be nervous? I mean, it's only the entire village turning out for our nuptials. Whatever happened to the idea of a small, private affair?"
"Nothing at all, my good man, but it seems your bride has other ideas, and hers are the ones that have prevailed." Reynard chuckled. "You've already lost your freedom."
Erik paused thoughtfully for a moment before replying. "On the contrary; Christine has set me free. I believe I'm gaining more than I'm losing."
Reynard gave him a friendly slap on the back. "That's the spirit."
-0-0-0-
"It's almost time. Shouldn't we be getting ready to leave?" Christine asked Erik as they stood alone in the parlor. The rest of the household had stepped outside, giving them a few moments alone before they all left for the church.
"Alan's not here with the cart yet, and I have something I want to talk to you about." He eyed her appreciatively. "You look…ravishing."
She cocked an eyebrow his way. "Ravishing? Or good enough to ravish?"
He laughed. "Both. I wasn't sure I would care much for this Breton-style wedding of yours, but when I was told that it meant I wouldn't have to wait until the wedding to see you…." He stopped, and with his hands on her upper arms, pulled her closer so that he could kiss her.
She playfully pushed him back. "You may look, but not kiss."
"What?" He pretended to be offended. "What's this all about? First you torment me with your forward ways, and now, with the wedding all but upon us, you cause me further torture by withholding your favors."
She fussed with his cravat. "You've spent far too many years tormenting yourself. I've come to the decision that tormenting you is now my job. Besides, I don't want anything mussed up before the wedding. Now, what did you want to talk about?"
He hesitated, a sudden pang of self-consciousness coming over him. "About…this," he pointed to his mask. "If you wish…I will remove it for the ceremony."
His offer nearly overwhelmed her. "You would be willing to do this for me?" She understood his need to appear as normal as possible, and though he had made great strides in accepting himself and allowing others to accept him, she had no wish for Erik to be subjected to inadvertent murmurs or unwanted attention, especially not on this day. "Erik, I only ask that you not wear it in the privacy of our home. The rest is up to you. Do as you feel comfortable."
"Christine, you are everything to me. I would do anything for you, would walk through hell and back…," he paused, and then laughed quietly as the tension he had felt only moments ago melted away. "Oh wait, I already did that."
His small joke helped ease some of the pre-wedding jitters both were feeling at the moment.
"No, Erik; I will not ask this of you," she replied seriously. "I know and love your appearance. That is all I need."
-0-0-0-
It was time to leave for the church. In accordance with the local customs, Erik was to escort the wedding party. Alan Kerjean had offered to drive them to the church, and had pulled in front of the house, his cart decorated festively. Even the horse was dressed for the occasion, its mane and tail, as well the cart itself, decorated with ribbons and flowers. Blankets were draped over the seat, and pillows were also supplied so that neither bride nor groom would dirty their wedding finery. In the back of the cart were benches for the others to sit in, also covered with blankets.
"It looks fit for a princess," she cried in delight as Erik walked her to the vehicle and helped her up onto her seat. Then he took his place next to her.
Alan nodded to Erik as he sat down on the other end, Christine sitting daintily between the two men. "You brought plenty of coins, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I don't understand why."
Alan smiled. "Didn't Christine explain it to you? Ancient Breton customs. I'll tell you about them on our drive into Perros. You see, a Breton wedding is as much festival as it is religious, and is filled with our own particular traditions that date back many centuries. Some even consider them pagan, saying we are more closely related to the ancient Druids of Britain than to the people of France."
Erik shook his head slowly, trying to comprehend all that was happening around him. "I still don't understand why all of you are going to so much trouble for someone you barely know."
"You can't be serious," Alan said incredulously. "Why, you're a local hero, Erik. You fought off the madman who burned down Anna's house. These people have seen how hard you worked the night of the fire; have seen that you are not afraid to get your hands dirty working side-by-side with them. They know firsthand your generosity, not only towards Anna, but also in compensating them well for their labors. You've spent most of your time these past couple of weeks working with them, getting to know them, and they you. As far as they're concerned, you're one of us now."
Erik still could not believe it was as simple as that. "The...the mask doesn't bother them?"
"Why should it? It isn't the first mask they've seen." He paused, considering what to say next. "Some folks in town think you wear the mask because you were burned in the fire. Others, that you were injured in the war. Regardless, you are a hero to them, and they like you. Is that…all right with you?"
Erik smiled and responded quietly. "I rather like being thought of as a hero."
As they drove the road to Perros, they found along the route that the trees were decorated. All around there were brightly colored ribbons hanging from the branches, blowing gaily in the light spring breeze. Village children of all ages met them along the way. They were dressed in their Sunday best and ran alongside the cart, laughing, skipping, and singing. Erik could not resist their infectious good spirits and invited several of the younger ones up into the wedding cart to ride to the church with them. As they neared the outskirts of the village, they found more ribbons, this time crisscrossed between the trees on both sides of the road, blocking their way.
"What is this?" Erik asked.
One little girl with brown curls peaking out from under her white cap giggled and said, "Your bride must cut the ribbon."
"Oh dear," Christine said, her hands raised to her mouth in mock horror. "I don't have any scissors with me."
Erik looked at Alan and started to laugh. "Is this one of those Breton customs you were mentioning?" He stepped down from the cart and held a hand out to Christine.
"Do you suppose someone could loan me a pair of scissors?" Christine asked the little girl.
A young boy stepped forward. "You may use mine."
Erik helped Christine as she scampered down from the cart, her eyes sparkling with merriment. The children took her by her hands and led her to the barrier. There she made a point of accepting the pair of scissors with great seriousness and cut the ribbons with a flourish before returning them to their owner. "Now you must pay the lad for the use of his scissors," she whispered into Erik's ear.
"Is there anything else I should know about?" he asked playfully, reaching into his pocket and tossing a handful of coins to the crowd. Oohs and ahs greeted their ears as Erik helped Christine back to her seat.
"You'll see," Christine said demurely.
A few meters down the road, they found their way blocked again. This time the road was covered with briars. Alan looked at Erik. "You'll need some more of those coins. As the groom, you must pay to remove these obstacles."4
Erik cheerfully tossed another handful of coins at the children, and in no time, the road was free of further obstacles and the wedding party was once again on its way.
"I can't believe we're really here." Christine gasped with excitement, clutching Erik's arm. "Aren't you excited?"
They disembarked from the cart and walked to the doors of the church, its pink granite glowing in the mid-morning sun.
Erik looked up at the edifice. "Notre Dame de la Clarté," he said to no one in particular. He turned to Christine. "I remember the story you told me about the sailors being saved by the Virgin, and this church being built to honor that event. I never would have thought I would be getting married here."
"It's nice to know you were paying attention that day," she said with a grin.
Around the church, the villagers had gathered, dressed in their traditional garb. The men wore brightly colored waistcoats over white muslin shirts and voluminous bragou-bras, or breeches, of blues and browns, held at the waist by wide leather belts with silver buckles and gathered at the knees with variously colored ribbons. White woolen stockings embroidered with clocks are worn under sabot, their wooden shoes. In their hands, they carried the traditional cudgel, the pen-bas, and on their heads were wide-brimmed black hats decorated with chenille fringe.
The women wore dark-colored dresses with full skirts and wide, white collars. Over their dresses, they wore plastrons, called piéces, of the same shade as the dress, and shawls with fringed borders. The younger girls wore plain aprons, while their mothers' aprons, some made of silk and expensive brocades, were adorned with embroidery. Their hair was coiled into a coronet, on top of which was a cap of white lace.5
Children ran to join their parents. Greetings were called out. Heads bobbed. Words of "Deit mat oh," welcome, and, "Bonjour deoh," good morning, greeted Erik and Christine as made their way to the church.
As they approached the door, Christine whispered into his ear, "This is it, Erik. Step across that threshold and you've passed the point of no return."
