Chapter 9- Nuptials.
'I'm so excited,' Meg squealed as she bent down to smooth the bottom of Christine's dress out. Christine giggled at her and kicked her foot in Meg's direction then watched her fall over backwards. She laughed harder and Meg scowled, before bursting into an ear-to-ear grin.
'Yes, I suppose it is exciting,' she said, offering Meg her hand which was gratefully accepted. Christine plucked Meg from the floor.
'You look exquisite,' She gushed, unable to stop herself from touching the pearls down the front of the dress. 'Finally, something borrowed!' She said handing Christine a box.
Christine glanced at her friend with a small smile and mouthed thank you as she opened it up. Inside was a gold chain to which a small engraved violin was attached. Meg smiled.
'It was my Grandfathers violin,' she said. 'He left it to me and I put it on that chain. I thought it might… well… remind you of your father as you walk down the aisle today.' She looked at her feet as a blush crept onto her face. 'I thought he should be with you…'
'Oh Meg…' Christine said, kissing her friends cheek softly and handing the chain to her maid. She bunched her dark hair into her hand and lifted if from her neck, so that the maid could fasten the chain at the back. As she loosed her hair out, she patted her neck with a smile.
'Lovely,' Meg said softly. 'Pretty as a picture.'
'Thank you,' Christine said, finding a blush of her own on her cheeks.
'I think they're waiting,' Meg said as she saw her mother walk through the door and with a nod Christine followed them both out of the room. Today she would be married.
He walked in half way through and sat on the back row out of sight and out of mind. His hat was pulled over his face and he viewed the ceremony from under its rim. He had been watching from the tree outside as Christine had entered dressed from head to toe in white, the picture of perfection. The picture of an angel. He had been forced to swallow his heart back down as he saw the way the dress clung to her waist and hung off her body. Her veil covered her and he cursed it for hiding her beauty. She had a face that the God's had sculpted and no person should ever cause her to cover it.
He looked at the sunlight highlighting her brown curls, making him to run his hands through them and attempt to make even the sun jealous. The church was crowded, packed even, and only the back few rows of the massive hall were empty. Well, except for him. He saw Raoul de Changy waiting for her at the end of the aisle and he watched as a friend of Raoul's walked her down the centre of the room to her fiancés arm.
He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw hard as they gleefully exchanged their vows and she was made the Vicomtess de Changy. The only person to notice him was Antoinette Giry, his friend and she had nodded him only a small acknowledgement as he sat there in silence. He rubbed his hand over his smooth jaw and stood quietly to leave and as he turned his back to the congregation he heard them pronounced man and wife. He trudged out dejected, heart aching, weighing his chest down. He walked out of the church and down the steps, and brought his hand up to hold the left side of his chest. He smiled wryly as he glanced at the carriage and the servants loading presents into the back.
He would not be buying the happy couple a gift, he thought, the tear drop he had left in his seat was quite enough.