Chapter Seven
"Oh, Marie, it's perfect!" Christine said delightedly, holding the beautiful dress up to the light. Marie looked rather smug and self-satisfied. As well she might, for the dress was nothing short of magnificent.
It had a corset, much to Christine's annoyance, but the beauty of the garment more than made up for that. It was pure white with tiny diamond beads sewn delicately into it so it seemed to shimmer. Marie had even gone so far as to procure some wings, made of gossamer and so delicate they looked as though a breath of air would shred them although they were relatively sturdy. A simple hoop of silver would serve as a halo.
How Marie had managed to get all of this together in just two days, Christine would never know. She began to put it all away.
"If I leave it with you, Christine, it will be ruined before the ball. Go and make yourself useful somewhere." She said. Christine near-skipped from the room. As she went down the hallway, humming to herself and dancing on tiptoe, she fell into someone.
Raoul's strong arms held her up. She blushed.
"Oh! I'm sorry!"
"Don't be." He smiled, setting her up. "You're in good spirits."
"I've found my costume for the ball and it's just wonderful!" Christine laughed. Raoul shook his head, still smiling
"I will never understand this love of dressing up that woman seem to possess."
"I suppose you never will." She smiled as they moved down the stairs, her hand still hooked into Raoul's arm.
"Of course, maybe I shall when you walk into the ball looking beautiful and I have to fight off every man in the room for a dance." He said. Christine giggled.
"If that should happen to be the case, I shall promise you the first dance."
"I will hold you to that." Raoul warned.
Christine smiled up at him as they reached the Entrance hall.
"No need, Raoul. It would be my pleasure."
"I shall hold you to it anyway." He smiled. The clock chimed and he sighed. "I'd better go and see Philippe. I shall see you at dinner?"
"Of course." She nodded.
Raoul smiled and then paused. Then his face lowered to hers and his lips brushed against her cheek before he turned to leave. Christine watched him, a little flushed, as he vanished down a corridor. And then she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. She whipped around and saw Sorelli watching with a pleased smile. Christine blushed and looked away. Sorelli laughed and moved forward to take her arm.
"Oh, Christine, don't be embarrassed!"
"I didn't know you were there."
"It doesn't matter. And I shan't tell anyone, never fear." She teased. Christine smiled and then sighed.
"That wasn't supposed to happen you know. We weren't supposed to get on this well."
"Perhaps it's just one of those things that is meant to be." Sorelli suggested. Christine shrugged.
"I don't know. I'd better go and practise some music before Monsieur Destler accuses me of being lazy."
"I'll see you at dinner."
Christine stared miserably at the piano. Why didn't she feel worse about this? She didn't want to marry Raoul. That hadn't changed.
But she didn't… didn't hate him. She'd expected to, but she didn't. That was what was most disconcerting about it all. But she really was going to miss him when he left. Far too much, really.
"Are you going to sit there all day?" Erik's sharp voice rang through the room. She looked up and saw him by the door. She shrugged and didn't speak. He sighed.
"Do you know quite how much I loathe sullenness?"
"No."
"Almost as much as I loathe people sitting at an instrument and not playing it." He commented, moving to stand by the piano. Christine looked up at him.
He would be leaving too. And to her surprise, that hurt even more than the thought of Raoul leaving. Monsieur Destler would be taking more than his company. He would be taking her music. Now after breakfast each morning she would simply practise, or walk, or (heaven help her) sew. No more instruction, no more sharp comments on her stance or breathing. No one would be there, pushing her to sing better, helping her to improve.
He noticed her distraught expression and frowned.
"Something is troubling you?"
"I… you're leaving."
"Yes."
"But… well, I don't want you to! I need you! Monsieur Destler, I've never sung this well before, not in my whole life! And in five days you and Raoul will be leaving and I just don't want you to." She burst out, unable to stop the tears from spilling over. She wiped them away hastily, feeling like a foolish child.
Erik watched her, unsure of how to react.
"Christine, you know that you are perfectly welcome in Hirlos."
"I know. I just… this past month has been so wonderful, even though I thought it was going to be an absolute nightmare. I just don't want it to end. But the only way for that to happen would be to…"
She didn't finish the sentence. Erik frowned slightly.
"Would it be so terrible? Marrying Raoul?"
"Well… no. But I… I didn't think it would happen like this." She whispered. Erik moved around to sit on the bench beside her.
"How did you imagine it?" He asked curiously.
"I blame those ridiculous story books. The handsome prince riding in on horseback, sweeping me off my feet. Not some arrangement."
"Do you care for Raoul?"
The bluntness of the question surprised her. She swallowed hard.
"Yes. I care for him. But… but they went us to spend the rest of our lives together. Shouldn't that be some sort of raging love that burns and consumes the soul? Not simply a fondness for each other."
"Raging love can burn out."
"Or it can keep blazing." She put in.
Erik lifted a hand to her cheek and turned her face to his. She met his eyes.
"Christine, raging love is only temporary, I have discovered. Is it really worth throwing away what could be something truly beautiful simply because it does not meet a story book ideal?" He said softly. Christine didn't reply, staring up at him. After a moment she looked down.
"I don't know. No, I don't think so… but sometimes I wish I weren't a princess. Surely normal people can have their raging love and it can be forever? Maybe I could have had that."
"It is no use wishing for what might have been. One can pine their life away in that manner." Erik said quietly.
Christine looked at him.
"You sound as if you speak from experience." She said softly. He looked down at her.
"Perhaps I do, Christine." He said, just as softly. "Life is not always kind, you know."
"Your life has not been kind?"
"Not all of it. I have been fortunate in my friends and in my music."
He was looking at the piano as he spoke. Christine watched him. Her eyes trailed over his face, taking in the strong features, the piercing eyes, the dark hair and the white mask. Curiosity flooded through her. But more than that, she wanted to understand. Somehow she suspected that whatever was under that mask had helped Erik Destler to become to musician that he was. What was it that created a genius?
She wanted to know.
She lifted her hand and her fingers brushed against the edge of the white porcelain. But Erik's hand darted up and caught her straying fingers before she had a chance to take the mask away. His eyes blazed at her and Christine wanted to cower away. But she had to explain.
"I want to understand you. I want to understand what made you turn away from people to music."
"You may want to understand, Christine. But you never could. Not if you saw under the mask." He said a quietly tense voice.
Christine noticed that he had not released her hand. But before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door and a servant called,
"Your highness? Your father wishes to see you."
"I'll be there in just a few moments." Christine called. They heard footsteps fading away and Erik released her hand.
"You should go." He said quietly.
"Monsieur Destler, I didn't mean to offend you." Christine rushed to explain. He met her eyes.
"I know. Go."
The day of the ball arrived, bright and clear. Christine woke with a feeling of wonderful anticipation and dressed quickly before going down to breakfast, Ayesha leaping about her feet. Despite Charles' orders, the cat constantly managed to find her way to wherever Christine was and it appeared that nothing could be done about it. Not that Christine was trying very hard.
At breakfast, everyone was chattering about the evening's festivities. And then Philippe made a rather pleasing announcement.
"Raoul, how would you feel about staying for another fortnight?"
"What?" Raoul said. Christine looked up from her porridge, listening closely.
"Well, Sorelli and I discussed it with Charles. There's really no rush for us to return to Hirlos and there's so much of Rymansia that we haven't had a chance to see yet. What do you think?"
Raoul glanced across at Christine, who hastily averted her eyes to the marmalade before saying,
"I'd like that very much. It's certainly very generous of you, Charles."
"It's nothing, Raoul. I enjoy having you here." Charles smiled. He looked at his daughter. Apparently the marmalade was particularly fascinating this morning. Sorelli changed the subject to the numerous guests that would be attending the ball.
Christine felt someone tap her arm and looked up sharply. It was Erik.
"If you're quite done examining the marmalade, may I use it?" He smirked. Christine flushed and passed it to him.
"Christine, when you're finished with your music lesson, perhaps you and Raoul would care to choose the order of the dances." Charles suggested. She eyed him and he smiled at his lack of subtlety.
"I really don't mind, Papa. What do you think?" She looked across at Raoul, who smiled.
"I suppose we could. The library at eleven?"
"Eleven thirty."
"Very well. Please could you pass the butter?" Raoul said airily.
Christine was near giddy with excitement during the lesson that day.
"Two whole weeks more, Monsieur Destler! Isn't that wonderful? Aren't you happy?"
"Ecstatic. You missed a beat in the fourth bar." He said dryly. She pouted.
"Aren't you even excited about the Masquerade Ball?"
"I very much doubt I will be attending for long."
"What? But you have to come!" Christine cried. He looked up at her.
"Why do I have to come?"
"Because… because… I… want you to." Christine finished weakly.
Erik rolled his eyes.
"How very persuasive."
"Oh, please, Monsieur Destler."
"I cannot abide crowds or extravagant festivities. Since the ball will fall into both of those categories you can ensure that I will not be present. From the beginning."
"But-"
"From the beginning, Christine, or I will keep you here until dinner." He snapped. Christine pouted slightly but began to sing.
"Ow!"
"I'm sorry." Meg said.
"Was the corset absolutely necessary?" Christine grumbled. Meg laughed.
"Well you look wonderful, Christine."
"One must suffer for beauty, I suppose." Christine sighed dramatically and the girls burst into giggles. Marie burst in, frowning and flapping at their gaiety.
"Marguerite, if you wish to join in tonight I suggest you go and dress immediately."
"Yes, Maman."
Meg skipped from the room, leaving Marie to help Christine pull the dress on. She laced it up deftly and began to arrange Christine's hair into a pretty style before fixing the silver ring into place. Christine smiled beatifically at her transformation.
Marie couldn't resist a slight smile as Christine stood to put the wings on. It was a little difficult but once in place, they settled comfortably on her shoulders.
"Just one thing left." She said, lifting a small white mask and placing it over Christine's eyes. With a satisfied smile and a nod, she turned Christine to look at her reflection.
Christine's eyes widened and a smile broke across her face.
Yes. This would be a wonderful evening, she thought. There was a knock at the door and Meg returned, smiling.
"Christine, I've been asked to give this to you." She said and held out a rose. It was white in colour, with a silver ribbon tied around the stem. Christine took it delightedly.
"Oh, it's beautiful! Who is it from?" She said, smelling the delicate scent.
"Monsieur Destler. There's a note too." Meg said.
To an Angel of Music from her instructor. You have done well.
Christine smiled and placed the rose gently into a vase on the dressing table before moving to go downstairs.
Raoul stood stiffly in the ballroom, dressed in what did not appear to be a costume at all, apart from the navy mask on his face. He, Philippe and Sorelli had already been formally introduced to the gathered crowd, several hundred mask glancing at him at once, kneeling as he passed down the centre aisle. Even Erik stood to one side, dressed in his usual clothes and looking thoroughly unhappy. Raoul was positive that Erik would sneak out at the nearest possibility.
The man by the door announced His Majesty, King Charles Daae's arrival. Charles moved regally down the centre aisle. Raoul smiled. He certainly looked very royal, dressed as a knight from some story Raoul couldn't remember. Sorelli and Philippe, as a fairy and a pirate respectively, stood nearby, talking with some of the royal court of Rymansia. There was only one person left to arrive now.
The announcer called for attention once again and all eyes went to the door as the words rang throughout the room.
"Her Royal Highness, Princess Christine Daae of Rymansia." The doors opened again and Raoul felt his jaw drop slightly at the figure who began the long walk down the centre of the room towards them.
Heaven had come to earth in a form so beautiful that no man could tear his eyes away. The slender gown in purest white glittered in the light, the gossamer wings looked on the point of flight and the dark curls, in contrast to the rest of the outfit, fell perfectly around that slightly smiling face. Christine arrived at the dais and, as tradition commanded, knelt before her father and then before Philippe and Sorelli before standing to take her place beside Charles.
Charles got to his feet and smiled around at the gathered crowd.
"Friends, I welcome you on this night of laughter to partake in the honour of having the royal family of Hirlos in our midst. The dancing will start momentarily and I hope you all enjoy yourselves immensely."
There was a buzzing and chattering as everyone moved to find partners for the first dance, or to help themselves to the luxurious food and drink that had been laid out. Raoul smiled as Philippe took Sorelli firmly by the hand and they took their place on the dance floor. And then he felt a slender hand on his arm.
"I believe I have promised you a dance." Christine said, smiling.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand your costume." Christine commented as they danced to the merry music. Raoul grinned.
"No one does. They're all assuming that I'm too proud to dress up."
"What is it then?" She asked curiously. Raoul's grin widened wickedly.
"I'm Philippe."
Christine stared at him and then burst out laughing, quickly stifling her giggles as they danced past Philippe and Sorelli. Philippe was looking suspiciously at Raoul's jacket, as though he recognised it. Which he probably did, since Raoul had 'borrowed' it from his wardrobe.
"Oh, that's perfect! I should have done something that clever." Christine sighed, smiling widely. Raoul shook his head vehemently.
"Absolutely not. You look perfect."
Her cheeks went a pretty shade of pink and the dance came to an end. Raoul bowed and Christine curtsied as a round of applause went up for the orchestra. Raoul went to ask Sorelli for a dance and Christine moved through the crowd only to be confronted by Lord Hawkins who smiled. The expression looked more like a grimace, even with the mask.
"Your highness, may I claim you for a dance?"
She couldn't very well refuse so he took her hand.
"You look lovelier than ever, your highness." He commented.
"Thank you, Lord Hawkins. I'm quite pleased with the costume."
"Marie Giry's handiwork, I assume?"
"Of course, no one else could make something wonderful." Christine replied.
The dance ended and Christine was immediately snapped up for a third one. Within an hour her feet were aching and she longed to sit and rest. She managed to edge her way to a pillar and hid behind it with a glass, drinking thirstily. Poor Raoul was still stuck out there but it was turning into a case of each person for themselves, she decided.
Christine peered around the ballroom, searching. After failing to find the face she was looking for, she edged along the length of the room and slipped out of the bustling ballroom. The atmosphere was refreshingly contrasting. The music and laughter became distant and foreign as she moved towards the music room, the silence becoming more intense. She pushed the door open quietly and looked inside.
The room was in darkness, with a few streams of silver moonlight shooting through the air. Erik stood by the window. Christine closed the door behind her, blocking almost all of the music, although a few strains drifted to them still. The door clicked softly and he turned to look at her.
"Bored alright?" He asked with a slight smile. Christine shrugged.
"I was looking for you."
"I don't care for crowds." He eyed her. "It suits you very well."
Christine blushed and reached up to lift her mask, setting it on the piano lid.
"I wanted to thank you for the rose."
"You're welcome. You deserve it." He said. Christine smiled and then looked at his clothes.
"What are you dressed as?" She teased.
"A temperamental musician." He smirked. Christine smiled and he said, "Why are you looking fro me? You should be entertaining your guests."
Christine shrugged again.
"I'm not sure. I just couldn't see you and I was wondering. You didn't get to dance with anyone and I saw plenty of women asking right at the start."
"They're all twittering fools."
"That's rather harsh." She reprimanded him gently.
"But true."
She smiled and joined him by the window. The moonlight bathed her face, giving her an ethereal glow. Erik felt his breath catch inexplicably in his throat and swallowed as she looked up at him.
"Would you dance with me?" She asked quietly, her heart racing. Erik stared at her and she looked away quickly.
"I'm sorry. I just-"
"If you'd like to." He interrupted her. Christine smiled in relief. Erik didn't smile back. Instead he held his hand out and Christine laid hers in it. Erik set his hand on her waist and she moved closer as they began to dance.
What am I doing? Was Erik's first thought. He was dancing with the one woman he could never have, the one that he mustn't dance with. How long had it been since he'd held a woman as closely as he was now holding Christine? So long… and yet he couldn't remember dancing like this before. They seemed to be barely moving, simply swaying from side to side. She was standing so close to him and she smelled sweet, like roses. And she was so warm. Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly warm. Her hand was so small in his, her waist so delicate; she was so fragile but so strong at the same time.
She was beautiful, he realised. She had never been anything else and he'd never noticed. She was so beautiful.
Christine looked up at him. He was staring at her, a look of something that looked wonder on his face. She didn't say anything but lowered her gaze and rested her head against his chest, relishing in the warmth and the faint heartbeat that sounded in her ear.
The song ended. Christine didn't know what to do. She couldn't let go of him. If she did, she'd never be able to hold him again. But he wasn't letting go either. The hand on her waist was firm, unrelenting.
"The song has finished." She whispered.
"Yes." He murmured back. Christine licked her dry lips and reluctantly lifted her head. The music was over and she could hear someone announcing something. But Erik's eyes were staring into hers. And then she heard her name and jumped, dropping his hand as thought it were burning her.
"Papa's speech. I'm… I'm supposed to be…" She stammered. Erik moved away quickly. Christine hesitated.
"Monsie- … Erik. I…" Applause and Christine winced and ran to the door. It slammed shut behind her.
And Erik despaired.
A/N: Mwahaha. Hmm, I hope this isn't too rushed. The thing is, this story is going to go on for quite some time span so Erik and Christine have to get together quite early. Not that anyone will mind…
Thank you for the lovely reviews! You guys are awesome.
Lotsa luv
Katie