Chapter Seven
Unfilled Spirits and Strange Desires
Belle
That night, I dreamt about hands, Erik's hands. True, it was unheard of for a lady to think such things, for it was feared by every mother that such wandering could lead to "unholy fantasies of men's unmentionable parts" as I had once heard them described. But in my dreams, his hands were not the least bit forceful or sexual, not the way I thought of them. They were majestic and fascinating, and dare I say even romantic in their own way. I saw Erik standing there, his hands reaching out to my face. Those strong fingers that played the piano and violin, oh how I wished those fingers would touch my face again and massage my back. He came very close to me; I could feel his breath on my lips and around my ears, so warm.
"Hold still for me…" he instructed in a husky whisper. His mouth only inches away from my own. "Very still…for me." Then he kissed me. Again it was gentle, his soft yet firm lips just grazing mine. For me. Yes, Erik let me be for you, only for you.
A sudden jerk in my body forced me to wakefulness as I shot straight up from the pillows. I turned to see my crimson reflection in the mirror and hid my face in shame as if I were being watched. What in the world was I thinking? I barely knew this man and already I was having romantic fantasies about him. I didn't even know what he looked like, at least his appearance under his mask. I slumped over to the closet edger to get some fresh clothes. I was sick of sleeping, and I hated being bored. I had to find something to do today. I picked out a dress of a pale purple shade that was simple enough while still being elegant. I felt the girlish urge to spend all morning trying on all the dresses in the closet. Matching them with the jewelry and scarves I had found in the drawer, and sampling the perfumes. But inwardly I shook with laughter at the notion. If I had behaved like any other women, a man leaving me with such material goods to suite my tastes and pleasures would have enthralled me, but I was an awkward girl who could not be wooed by such things.
Instead of pretty dresses, I would want my lover to curl up next to the fireplace with me, to enjoy a book together or recite poetry allowed. I would want him to play the piano for me and take me to the opera, and we would have long conversations about art, music and philosophy. I sighed fastening the gown around my waist. That would never happen to me, since I had known no man in my life that took interest in such things.
Until now. Until Erik.
I heard a faint sound from outside my room. Quickly pinning my hair back into a neat bun, I ventured outside my room to see where the sound way coming from. As I approached the door, I could hear the sound growing louder and more melodic. It was a song, someone was singing. I pushed the door open slowly and I saw Erik leaning over the mantel, a fire started in a small-enclosed furnace where an open flame would have been in a normal fireplace. Facing away from me, he held an open book in his hand limply and he gazed at the wall. And he was singing!
A simple melody yet his smooth tender voice made it sound like a masterpiece only fit for angels to sing or hear. I could not make out any words and I wondered if he were singing a requiem or a love song. Erik's voice could have made it sound either or both at the same time and still let it be beautiful. I clung to the doorframe letting my body relax, but in actually I was holding myself up as my knees had started to grow weak and shift beneath my weight. His voice amazed me, just as his playing on the harpsichord had done. He made some of the finest vocalist in Europe look like fumbling choirboys. Surprised that he was not a professional musician I felt a small sense of secluded pride of being privileged to hear him. Moving on tiptoe to lean upon the chair behind him, I realized I recognized the melody. It was a French folksong that I vaguely remembered from my childhood. After already hearing him sing the main phrase I was possessed to sing with him, and I did.
I let my mouth open and started to vocalize with him, small and cracking at first. I put my entire effort to make my fledging vocal chords sound as smooth and melodic as his. He turned to see me there and stopped singing for a while, looking at me in shock. Perhaps appalled at my minimal talent. But then he closed his eyes and started to sing again. Our voices floated over the room and blew past my ears. It was magical. It was like the master and the student, or the angel and the mortal. I in turned closed my eyes, wishing he would come to me, hold my hand while we sung. We repeated the song, twice then three times. I wanted it never to end. It was like that wonderful feelings that we treasure. It was like when my father told me he was proud of me or when my brothers gave me a pony for my birthday which I used to ride in the woods all day long. All those treasured memories resurfaced in my mind in that moment and I wanted it never to end.
"Mademoiselle, is there nothing you can not do?" Erik asked. I abruptly stopped singing and opened my eyes at the sound of his questioning voice. I tried to without bringing attention to myself, touch my face to make sure I wasn't blushing. I was, discovering my cheek warm as I brushed a lock of hair away from it. Then I realized I hadn't answered his question.
"I'm not sure exactly what you mean." I replied
"It's simple. Apparently you are already an accomplished lady of society, as well as being a lover of books and the arts. And now you reveal another of you amazing talents. Your voice is very beautiful. You did not tell me you could sing."
I could not believe my ears. He was giving praises to me. But is was him that had worked the mysterious miracles so far. "Erik, perhaps you should direct your flattery else where. It is yourself that has the superb voice between to two of us. To be bluntly, it is simply astounding. You deserve the praise and the credit." He looked shyly at me and bowed his head
"You honor me mademoiselle."
"Please, I asked you to call me Belle."
He nodded. " Very well, Belle then. Did you know that song?"
I traced my finger around the material of the sofa. "I've heard it before, but I can't think of its name. I believe it a lullaby of some sort."
"You would be correct, it is a French lullaby." Intrigued of why he had decided to sing that, I asked him.
"Why decide you to sing that piece then. Did your mother use to sing it to you as a child?" I questioned innocently hoping to open up a dialogue. His frame stiffened and he turned to glare at me with burning eyes. I hadn't seen him this angry since the night he first brought me here. His fists started to tighten at his side and I flinched back for fear that he would strike me.
"Hardly." He hissed. I wanted to pushed my back against the couch trying to get away from him, but I was frozen. Part of me wanted to run back into my room, and the other watched him in dumb horror. But knowing he would with ease be able to stop me if I tried to make any escape, I remained still. Finally he gave a grunt of rage and threw down the book he had been holding. He started to stalk away, but I desperately called to him.
"Please don't leave. If I have offended you in any way, I'm sorry." I gripped the edge of my chair tightly, praying for him to turn around. "If there is anything I can do…" I attempted to offer. Please see me, I begged in my mind. I need someone to talk to. I can see that you do too. Please let us be there for each other. He began to face me slowly and I sat there is anticipation waiting for his answer.
Erik
"If there is anything I can do?" her offer echoed in my brain stirring up memories. Words of the past, words I had spoken myself.
"Love me and you shall see. If you loved me I would be as gentle as a lamb and you could do anything you wished with me."
I cringed. Christine was gone, I told myself, gone forever with her precious Vitcomte. And God and fate had seen it truly fit to leave me with another woman who could never learn to love me. Why bother anymore? But I stopped something told me to look in her eyes. I saw there so much compassion. She looked like a lost kitten, desperate for someone to find her and care for her. I could do that for her, but would she let me? She looked so beautiful standing before me. The color of her gown brought out the healthy glow of her face and small straight locks of blond hair crisscrossed over her forehead. She had let one of her hands reach out ever so slightly as if she where reaching for me. I felt overwhelmed, I want to go to her encase her hand in mind and cover it with kisses. Those fragile hands that had been through so much. Madness I knew, but I didn't care.
I found my voice finally. "Would you allow me to play for you again? If you wished." I asked.
Her eyes lit up and she stood to her feet. "Oh I do very much." She came towards me and I felt embarrassed for my unbecoming attire. I only had my shirt and pants on, with a dressing robe thrown over them, but she didn't seem to take notice. She held my arm, like a child wanting a parent's affection. "I love- enjoy it very much when you play your music." I noticed her slip of tongue and stopped myself from smiling.
"Perhaps I could play you something of my own composition?' I suggested. She nodded enthusiastically. "Well then, if you would excuse me for a moment." I slipped away from her grasp and headed for my chambers. What was I doing? I hadn't even played my Don Juan for anyone else, I even denied Christine's request to hear it. And here I was revealing my most private self to a stranger. Grabbing my music from the organ, I rushed back out to her. As I straighten my music, I noticed a more energetic movement in my step. I was actually excited. Could it be because of her? I stopped outside my door needing to catch my breath.
I had never felt this way before. I felt so…alive.
But it wasn't love, at least none I had ever experienced before. With Christine yes I felt euphoric, but also the need to be cautious, but now I felt like I didn't need to care anymore. I could be myself, for once. Straightening myself to look more presentably; I strolled back into the living room. She greeted me with a smile and then turned her attention to the large stack of music in my arms.
"Did you write all that?" she asked in amazement.
"Yes" I said nodding "It's my own opera."
Looking impressed she stretch out her arms to me. "May I look at some of it?"
"Certainly" I replied setting the score down on a nearby table. She went to rummage through it, and I walk to the other side of the room to retrieve my violin. My fingers were shaking as I applied rosin to the bow, and my brain shouted for my to calm myself. I was performing into front of a sea of critics. I had no need to be nervous. I thought. Nervous, so this is how it feels. Dreadful really. "I thought I would play a violin solo if you wished." I whispered, petting the instrument's smooth wood surface.
She smiled again, and I had a sudden feeling of warmth inside me. I prayed that my body's conflicting, almost bipolar emotions would not interfere with my playing. Still it was a marvelous feeling to be appreciated, and not feared. "I would enjoy that very much Erik."
Erik, my name. Not Angel, nor ghost, or demon or monster. Just Erik.
"All right then." I said tucking the base under my chin. "Hears how it sounds."
A/N: I like to say thank you to all my wonderfully reviews I've gotten so far. Your encouragement has help a great deal. Thank you all. More excitement to follow in
Chapter Eight: Dangers Untold