Disclaimer: Idon'townthismagnificence
A/N: Oh, if you want to actually see the dress: http: I don't know if they actually had mannequins back then but for my purposes they are going to! More fluff for the first half, but who doesn't love fluff? Also, it's a tad bit long…
Star Sheep-hands over yet another Erik plushie- I'm only giving you so many because of your lovely reviews…and because I have the real Erik handcuffed to my wrist. -Evil grin- Watch your blood pressure….-hint- Don't worry, I'm E/C through and through!
Chapter Six
Raoul!
"Goodbye Christine, be safe my Angel."
With a curtsey Christine left Erik alone once more.
The bright sunlight overwhelmed her senses as she pushed open the heavy wooden door that led to the outside world. Blinking wildly she shielded her sensitive coffee-hued eyes against the warm light which seemed to pierce through her skull. Christine checked that the bundle of francs Erik had given her still remained in her pocket and navigated herself through the small alleyways that led to the very center of the town.
Almost immediately after she had joined the small crowd that wandered the cobblestone streets of Paris, Christine felt insignificant in her faded black dress. Compared with the brilliant purples, golds, and silvers of the other women's dresses Christine looked like a simple peasant.
Using her arms to cover as much of herself as possible she hurried through the streets, dodging speeding carriages and women's stares. Dirty men whistled at her as she passed, empty bottles of liquor rolling at their feet, crude words flowing off their tongues. As she escaped into a charming boutique, Christine nearly ran into a mannequin. The doll was clothed in one of the most elegant day dress that Christine had ever seen.
The majority of the dress was fashioned from a soft and flowing angelic white fabric with black silk for the two thin straps which crossed between the bust to finally create a tight bow around the small waist. It was a floor length dress; the chiffon fabric flowed gracefully about the ankles.
There was a light tap on her shoulder. Christine jumped, startled by the sudden touch. A round saleswoman faced her. "Would you like to purchase this madam?"
"Mademoiselle," Christine corrected kindly, "my husband left for the war a year ago. I have not heard from him since then. He's presumed dead."
The woman frowned, her lips curling into a most unattractive pout. "I'm sorry."
"No, it 'tis fine. It happens all the time. Now, about the dress. How much is it?" She rubbed the material between her fingers longingly. Already she was imaging the look of pleasure that would cross Erik's face when he saw her in it, the fabric silently dancing about her feet. She simply could not live without the dress.
The smile reappeared upon the woman's pudgy face. Her matte brown eyes sparkled. "This is our special dress, imported from far away lands. She's one thousand francs."
Christine's face fell immediately. "One thousand francs?" Slowly she took out the bundle of francs that Erik had given to her, counting out each individual bill. In her hand she held three thousand francs. Erik had given her three thousand francs! Blinking back the tears of gratitude that threatened to spill onto her cheeks, Christine nodded. "I'll take her."
"We shall fit her for you and make minor adjustments. The dress will be ready tomorrow."
"Isn't there anyway I could take her now?"
"Not unless you fancy a dress that doesn't fit properly." The woman raised her groomed eyebrows at that ridiculous thought. No woman wanted a dress that didn't fit properly!
"May I try it on?" Christine asked, knowing in her heart that the dress was made for her and that it would most certainly fit without needing adjustments.
"Of course! The dress belongs to you now. You are free to do as you wish with it." The woman unfastened the dress from the doll and handed it reluctantly to Christine, wondering how such a poorly dressed woman came to own three thousand francs to her name. "One thousand francs."
Christine handed the money over and nearly ripped the dress in her haste to hold the beautiful creation in her hands.
"The fitting room is over there." She pointed towards the back of the tiny store.
Christine nearly floated towards the room. When she gently pulled the dress over her head it fit perfectly. The fabric hugged her petite curves and accentuated her long legs. Discarding the black dress on a wooden chair, Christine walked out of the room, her spirits flying. Respectable men turned to stare and women exchanged whispers laced with jealousy.
"They are back!" The excited scream came from behind her. Christine whirled around to see a mob of people clapping and screaming. "They're back!" The scream came again, this time followed by many other voices, cheering. The carriages in the streets paused to witness the strange and exciting event.
"Who is back?" Christine wandered aloud as she was jarred by people pushing past her in their haste to join the growing crowd.
"The soldiers of course! They are back! They are back! Spread the word! Everyone must know our soldiers have returned to us!" The man that had graciously answered her sprinted off, leaving Christine's heart pounding with fear. What soldiers?
No…no! It couldn't be. Raoul was dead, had been for a year. She was frozen to the spot, her feet refused to move. It wasn't until she heard her own name spoken in a frantic yelp that she turned to flee.
"Christine?" It was Raoul, except it wasn't her Raoul. The man she had fallen in love with as a young woman had changed. Christine could see that in the few seconds she had allowed herself to look at him. His hair was terribly matted, he had grown a beard and his face was scarred. His body was under nourished, his clothes torn and dirty. It was still Raoul though, her husband that was supposed to be dead. "Christine?"
The roar of the many voices dulled to whispers as Christine's mind reeled. Time stood still as she turned from her husband.
"Christine?"
With that she ran as fast as her body would carry her. She could hear his footsteps behind her, his voice pleading with her. "Please, Christine!"
It broke her heart to run from him yet she knew she must. It had been a long year, during which she had matured greatly. The title of Vicomtess de Chagany no longer excited her, nor did it belong to her.
After a few twisting alleys distanced the two ex-lovers, Christine allowed herself to slow her pace, her chest heaving with labored breath. Christine felt helpless. Had she done the right thing by running from her husband? YES! Her heart screamed at her yes, yes, yes! She belonged with Erik. Still, Raoul's pleading eyes were in her head.
Her dress had been nearly ruined in the process of running from her past. The dirt from the alleys clung to the bottom, tuning the delicate fabric a foul gray colour. The dress had various rips up to the thigh, it was simply destroyed.
Emerging from yet another nameless alley, Christine was relieved to find that she was back where she started. The mob had disappeared; the soldiers were no doubt sharing beds with the women of their choice. She was alone in the cobblestone streets and the sun was just beginning to set. Pastel pink and red orange hues colored the sky. She had been away from Erik for hours!
With a deep shuddering sigh Christine walked into the nearest seamstress's shop and gazed at the many different bolts of richly colored fabrics. Paper patterns were scattered throughout the small store. Delicately Christine stepped over each one and made her way towards the back of the shop where the seamstress was no doubt working on her latest piece.
"Hello?" She called out.
"Oh hello dear, I'm in the back." An old woman's voice answered her. "Just come on in."
Christine did as she was told and found a squinting old lady hunched over a large piece of silken fabric. The woman looked up as Christine entered.
"How may I assist you mademoiselle?"
"I need five day dresses, made as simply as possible please."
"Ah, that sounds lovely. What fabric and style do you prefer?"
"Two red silk dresses, cut like the one I'm wearing now, one white chiffon dress, and two loose cotton work dresses. That will be it for now."
"Let me take your measurements."
When all arrangements had been made and Christine had paid her two thousand francs, she hurriedly made her way home.
When she stepped out of the shop it was completely black out, not even a sliver of the moon showed through the dense clouds that covered the sky. Staying within the dim light of the street lamps, Christine made it safely to the Rue Scribe.
As she pushed open the wooden door again, she found it opened easily, something that it had not done before. Tilting her head, she looked at it with a strange expression written on her delicate features. She had closed it properly, hadn't she? With a shrug she followed the narrow stone path beside the slow moving lake that led to Erik's lair. She arrived at his hidden home within minutes, her arms and pockets empty.
"Erik?"
Deafening silence greeted her.
