Days quickly turned into months and it was not long until the day that Christine had so longed for yet feared had arrived. It was a blustery day in October when Christine woke early. The servants were already in her rooms, pulling back curtains and bringing in breakfast. As she rose to her feet and walked over to the table where she always dinned, she looked out of the window to see what the weather was like. She was disappointed to find no trace of sunlight about the clouds just grey; dark, ominous clouds which rolled overhead; the wind blasting the skeletal remains of the leaves on the trees.
This was not how she had imagined this day would be, she conceded, raising her cup to her lips. Even when she was a little girl she some how knew that her life would take her here; that she would marry Raoul. But in her fancies she had seen a large church on a bright spring morning, flowers cascading over the pews. Raoul would be at the end of the aisle and he would turn and smile at her. The church would be full of family and friends and there, beside her, would be her father. Her father, who she had loved and adored, would lead her into the arms of the man that she would marry. He would kiss her goodbye; he would play the violin as they said their vows. All of a sudden it occurred to her that no-one would be there to hold her hand as she walked out of childhood and into womanhood. This was something that she would have to do alone.
It seemed as if the morning would last forever Christine thought to herself as she climbed into the tub; feeling the warm water cascade down her back as her maid wet her hair. She loved the feel of water next to her skin, so peaceful and so calming; its warmth seemed to always soothe and calm her. The lavender and camomile oils which they added made her slip back under the surface; her eyes closing as the water rose up to meet her.
When she eventually got out, wrapping the soft linen about her, she noticed that one of the maids seemed to be hovering anxiously in the doorway. Laughing to herself quietly Christine beckoned for the maid to approach.
"If you please Miss, the flowers have arrived."
Christine was surprised to hear this; she had thought that Raoul had left explicit instructions that all flowers were to be delivered directly to the church. She shrugged, dismissing the maid with a wave of the hand and the words "Bring them in."
She heard the maid close the door behind her as she left and, tying the cord of her dress around her waist she smiled at what the day promised; before turning round to inspect what had been laid on her dressing tables.
Christine shrieked in horror at the sight that met her, stumbling with shock at the foot of the bed. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief she cautiously approached the table, her eyes fixed on the flower which lay there…for there was only one. A single red rose, tied around the stem; a black ribbon. There was also a note, sealed in the same way as so many previous ones had been. Carefully she broke the wax seal, despairing at the familiar strokes of ink that formed letters on the page. She read it just once. In a moment of blind panic she rushed to the mantelpiece and threw it onto the glowing fire. As the flames surrounded it, the words could still be seen, as they burnt in the flames;
"Do not fear for your Angel of Music…he burns in hell so that you may walk in the sunlight. I will always think of you Christine. I will always love you."