Chapter Twelve
The day had dawned. Unimaginable. Sunlight streamed through the window as the larks heralded the beginning of a new day. Their wedding day.
Erik stared in utter stillness as the sun peeped over the horizon. He had been awake for some time now as he found he did not sleep well without Christine beside him. In a determined feminine manner that enchanted him, she had insisted it was bad luck for him to see her before their wedding and she would meet him at the cathedral. Downcast, Erik had did his best to keep her home but she had admirably resisted his advances. With a fraudulent demure tone, she asked him to escort her home, which he had done reluctantly. After he had threatened to climb up to her balcony when he left her, Christine had beseeched him. "Erik, darling, it is tradition. Don't scowl at me so, my love. It is only for one night. Think of it as your last night of freedom." She smiled at his irrational temperament.
Holding her in a strong embrace, he whispered roughly, "I do not ever wish to be free of you, Christine. Ever. One night is an eternity without you."
Acknowledging his honest appeal, she whispered back, "After this night, Erik Lenoire, I promise you that as long as I live, you will never be alone again."
Grasping her closer, he hugged her to him ardently. Stepping back and looking down at her, he gave her a feeble smile. Erik touched her nose playfully with his fingertip and queried, "Promise?"
Christine placed her hand sweetly over his heart, "I promise."
He sighed, "Well, then, I must leave directly or I will surely compromise your chastity." Erik elegantly reached to kiss her hand in farewell and strode away.
Now it was morning and he must prepare for their wedding. He softly laughed in wonderment, not totally believing it to be true.
Catherine had never before seen Christine so nervous. Her young mistress worried herself relentlessly that each detail of her dress, her hair and her appearance be absolutely perfect. "Catherine, I must wear my hair down. I know it is not done but Erik simply loves my hair down so that is how I shall wear it."
Catherine gave in and put her arm around Christine's shoulder in a motherly hug. "Child, you mustn't fret so. There could be no bride more beautiful than you shall be."
Grasping Catherine's hand, Christine nervously prattled, "Oh, thank you, Catherine. Do forgive me if I am being cross. I apologize. I just want everything perfect for him. He deserves nothing less."
Christine had, by that time, explained to her and Dominic that her husband- to-be wore a mask concealing a deformity. She carefully chose her words and instead of telling of his face, described Erik's boundless love for her. Christine did not wish them to be anxious on her behalf and knew that she had to clarify matters before they met him. She had talked long about his talents, dwelling on how he had instructed her. Relating that, had it not been for Erik, she would never have accomplished what she did. She silently begged them to understand for her sake, which they did. The two had never seen Christine as happy as she had been, even when she'd been married to the Vicomte, God rest his soul.
It did pass through Catherine's mind that instead of Christine agonizing over her appearance, her groom was most fortunate that she was marrying him. Christine was a beautiful young woman, she thought proudly. In the beginning, after their talk with their young mistress, Catherine had expressed her doubts to her husband. She had heard that unfortunate persons who were deformed from birth had been branded with the mark of the devil. Dominic eventually exposed her foolishness for what it was and noted that Christine was supremely pleased with her choice.
Now, Catherine answered the knock at the door where a maid handed her Christine's bridal gown. With tears gathering in her eyes, she turned toward her mistress holding the dress in outstretched arms so as not to wrinkle it.
Christine arose touching the shimmering fabric as though she was not convinced it was genuine. She had chosen this gown because she thought it an excellent compromise. Knowing that she could not wear white as this was her second marriage, Christine had selected a gown of glistening gold fabric. It fit her arms and upper body like a second skin of golden lace but the skirt flowed becomingly with a medium length train behind her. Eschewing a veil, she'd decided upon a halo of tiny gold and white flowers mixed with greens and a small length of sheer, gold fabric reaching to her back. If she could not wear white as Erik's bride, she wanted to come to him as lovely as any princess in her finery.
Christine looked over the dress at Catherine and they both laughed at the tears in each other's eyes. "Oh, I hope he likes it!" she breathed.
Father Signone dutifully kissed his vestments in preparation for the wedding ceremony. Instructing the attending altar boy to begin lighting the candles, he heard the organist practicing the Ave'.
The ceremony today would prove most unusual. A lady of Christine's social standing with virtually no guests in attendance. The image of the masked groom came to mind, inducing a shiver. Madame de Chagny had visited him privately earlier in the week asking Father Signone to avoid drawing any attention to her betrothed's strange appearance. Assuring her of his discretion, he now wondered again what lay behind the mask.
"Father, the groom has arrived." the young altar boy whispered in awe. No doubt he had seen Monsieur Lenoire's mask and was perishing of curiosity.
"Very good, Gregory. Now, the candles are lit and we are ready to begin?" Gregory nodded hastily.
Erik paced up and down moodily in front of the altar as Gregory watched him in rapt fascination. "She was not coming", the insidious demon hissed in his ear. "Why should she? What could you possibly offer her?" Erik literally brushed away such destructive thoughts from his mind. He concentrated on the carpeting of the cathedral, its weaving pattern keeping him sane.
Father Signone came out to see Erik lost in composed anguish. Smiling to himself, he approached the nervous husband-to-be. "My son, you are suffering the same torment I see in each groom before each wedding."
Startled from his concentration, Erik looked up warily. "Father." he bowed gracefully.
Holding out his hand toward the cautious young man, Father Signone said, "Erik Lenoire, is it?"
Looking down at the outstretched hand and immediately cognizant of his tactlessness, Erik grasped it. "Yes."
"Well, I dare say Christine will be most satisfied with her new husband." Father Signone took in the flawless, impeccable suit that Erik wore. It was a dove gray, almost silver in tone, complete with an overcoat with tails. He decided it suited Erik's imperial air.
Another young altar boy came rushing in the side vestibule announcing loudly, "She's here, Father!"
Panic suddenly struck Erik. What was he doing? He would ruin her life if he married her.
Sensing his distress, Father Signone placed his hand upon Erik's shoulder feeling him tense noticeably. "My son, quiet yourself. You must be ready to receive your bride."
Trembling, but making a drastic effort to conceal it, Erik inclined his head indicating he had heard.
Unexplainably drawn in sympathy to this sober, dignified young man, Father Signone asked, "Are you all right, Erik?"
Crushing the uncertainties plaguing him, Erik answered in a stronger voice than he imagined possible, "Yes, I am, Father. Thank you."
Taking his place at the altar, Father Signone gestured for Erik to stand at his side. Erik stood stiffly beside him looking ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. The organist began to play softly as Erik felt ridiculously frightened.
At the far end of the aisle, the main door opened allowing sunshine to issue through the entrance. Dominic entered and walked toward Erik with a smile of understanding. Grasping his shoulder briefly in masculine commiseration for the young groom, Dominic stood next to him and the three men gazed down the aisle awaiting the bride.
The day had dawned. Unimaginable. Sunlight streamed through the window as the larks heralded the beginning of a new day. Their wedding day.
Erik stared in utter stillness as the sun peeped over the horizon. He had been awake for some time now as he found he did not sleep well without Christine beside him. In a determined feminine manner that enchanted him, she had insisted it was bad luck for him to see her before their wedding and she would meet him at the cathedral. Downcast, Erik had did his best to keep her home but she had admirably resisted his advances. With a fraudulent demure tone, she asked him to escort her home, which he had done reluctantly. After he had threatened to climb up to her balcony when he left her, Christine had beseeched him. "Erik, darling, it is tradition. Don't scowl at me so, my love. It is only for one night. Think of it as your last night of freedom." She smiled at his irrational temperament.
Holding her in a strong embrace, he whispered roughly, "I do not ever wish to be free of you, Christine. Ever. One night is an eternity without you."
Acknowledging his honest appeal, she whispered back, "After this night, Erik Lenoire, I promise you that as long as I live, you will never be alone again."
Grasping her closer, he hugged her to him ardently. Stepping back and looking down at her, he gave her a feeble smile. Erik touched her nose playfully with his fingertip and queried, "Promise?"
Christine placed her hand sweetly over his heart, "I promise."
He sighed, "Well, then, I must leave directly or I will surely compromise your chastity." Erik elegantly reached to kiss her hand in farewell and strode away.
Now it was morning and he must prepare for their wedding. He softly laughed in wonderment, not totally believing it to be true.
Catherine had never before seen Christine so nervous. Her young mistress worried herself relentlessly that each detail of her dress, her hair and her appearance be absolutely perfect. "Catherine, I must wear my hair down. I know it is not done but Erik simply loves my hair down so that is how I shall wear it."
Catherine gave in and put her arm around Christine's shoulder in a motherly hug. "Child, you mustn't fret so. There could be no bride more beautiful than you shall be."
Grasping Catherine's hand, Christine nervously prattled, "Oh, thank you, Catherine. Do forgive me if I am being cross. I apologize. I just want everything perfect for him. He deserves nothing less."
Christine had, by that time, explained to her and Dominic that her husband- to-be wore a mask concealing a deformity. She carefully chose her words and instead of telling of his face, described Erik's boundless love for her. Christine did not wish them to be anxious on her behalf and knew that she had to clarify matters before they met him. She had talked long about his talents, dwelling on how he had instructed her. Relating that, had it not been for Erik, she would never have accomplished what she did. She silently begged them to understand for her sake, which they did. The two had never seen Christine as happy as she had been, even when she'd been married to the Vicomte, God rest his soul.
It did pass through Catherine's mind that instead of Christine agonizing over her appearance, her groom was most fortunate that she was marrying him. Christine was a beautiful young woman, she thought proudly. In the beginning, after their talk with their young mistress, Catherine had expressed her doubts to her husband. She had heard that unfortunate persons who were deformed from birth had been branded with the mark of the devil. Dominic eventually exposed her foolishness for what it was and noted that Christine was supremely pleased with her choice.
Now, Catherine answered the knock at the door where a maid handed her Christine's bridal gown. With tears gathering in her eyes, she turned toward her mistress holding the dress in outstretched arms so as not to wrinkle it.
Christine arose touching the shimmering fabric as though she was not convinced it was genuine. She had chosen this gown because she thought it an excellent compromise. Knowing that she could not wear white as this was her second marriage, Christine had selected a gown of glistening gold fabric. It fit her arms and upper body like a second skin of golden lace but the skirt flowed becomingly with a medium length train behind her. Eschewing a veil, she'd decided upon a halo of tiny gold and white flowers mixed with greens and a small length of sheer, gold fabric reaching to her back. If she could not wear white as Erik's bride, she wanted to come to him as lovely as any princess in her finery.
Christine looked over the dress at Catherine and they both laughed at the tears in each other's eyes. "Oh, I hope he likes it!" she breathed.
Father Signone dutifully kissed his vestments in preparation for the wedding ceremony. Instructing the attending altar boy to begin lighting the candles, he heard the organist practicing the Ave'.
The ceremony today would prove most unusual. A lady of Christine's social standing with virtually no guests in attendance. The image of the masked groom came to mind, inducing a shiver. Madame de Chagny had visited him privately earlier in the week asking Father Signone to avoid drawing any attention to her betrothed's strange appearance. Assuring her of his discretion, he now wondered again what lay behind the mask.
"Father, the groom has arrived." the young altar boy whispered in awe. No doubt he had seen Monsieur Lenoire's mask and was perishing of curiosity.
"Very good, Gregory. Now, the candles are lit and we are ready to begin?" Gregory nodded hastily.
Erik paced up and down moodily in front of the altar as Gregory watched him in rapt fascination. "She was not coming", the insidious demon hissed in his ear. "Why should she? What could you possibly offer her?" Erik literally brushed away such destructive thoughts from his mind. He concentrated on the carpeting of the cathedral, its weaving pattern keeping him sane.
Father Signone came out to see Erik lost in composed anguish. Smiling to himself, he approached the nervous husband-to-be. "My son, you are suffering the same torment I see in each groom before each wedding."
Startled from his concentration, Erik looked up warily. "Father." he bowed gracefully.
Holding out his hand toward the cautious young man, Father Signone said, "Erik Lenoire, is it?"
Looking down at the outstretched hand and immediately cognizant of his tactlessness, Erik grasped it. "Yes."
"Well, I dare say Christine will be most satisfied with her new husband." Father Signone took in the flawless, impeccable suit that Erik wore. It was a dove gray, almost silver in tone, complete with an overcoat with tails. He decided it suited Erik's imperial air.
Another young altar boy came rushing in the side vestibule announcing loudly, "She's here, Father!"
Panic suddenly struck Erik. What was he doing? He would ruin her life if he married her.
Sensing his distress, Father Signone placed his hand upon Erik's shoulder feeling him tense noticeably. "My son, quiet yourself. You must be ready to receive your bride."
Trembling, but making a drastic effort to conceal it, Erik inclined his head indicating he had heard.
Unexplainably drawn in sympathy to this sober, dignified young man, Father Signone asked, "Are you all right, Erik?"
Crushing the uncertainties plaguing him, Erik answered in a stronger voice than he imagined possible, "Yes, I am, Father. Thank you."
Taking his place at the altar, Father Signone gestured for Erik to stand at his side. Erik stood stiffly beside him looking ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. The organist began to play softly as Erik felt ridiculously frightened.
At the far end of the aisle, the main door opened allowing sunshine to issue through the entrance. Dominic entered and walked toward Erik with a smile of understanding. Grasping his shoulder briefly in masculine commiseration for the young groom, Dominic stood next to him and the three men gazed down the aisle awaiting the bride.