After a surprisingly pleasing early dinner, they had drifted towards the living room, the need for music alive in both their bright eyes. Together, they performed several arias and though Erik never sang for her, Christine was quite at her leisure to listen to him play. As she peacefully reclined on the settee, taking delight that his chosen repertoire for this evening had consisted entirely of Schubert, an idea began to form in her mind.
Sitting up, she called to him, to which he replied with an idle, "Hmm?", before stopping mid-phrase and letting his hands linger over the keys. "What is it? Do you wish for me to play something else? Name it and I shall play it for you."
"No," she said. "I was wondering if you could possibly bring the music box in here?"
When he did not question her request and instead rose from the piano stool and left the room, his silhouette becoming one with the enclosing shadows, Christine smiled to herself.
He returned shortly, setting the object down on the small, but rickety, table next to her before slowly backing away from it. Her eyes widened in innocent wonderment as she heard the opening notes flow from the little box without any instruction. These tricks of his, these fantastic and bizarre illusions that he performed had always intrigued and frightened her. But, she supposed that it was in human nature to fear what you did not entirely understand.
As her smile grew, Christine stood and watched the mechanical marvel turn out more and more bars of a much loved waltz. Soon, she was swaying to the music, her hands clasped together under her chin as she smoothly stepped from side to side.
"Erik," she called once more, a melodic quality to her voice. Twirling on the spot, she saw him standing in the corner, his stance hunched yet timid. "Come and dance with me."
"One could hardly call what you are doing dancing," he criticised, hoping that his dry words would distract her from pursuing her ridiculous request. Yes, he thought, insult the girl! Women dislike being insulted! "I am only too glad that it is not your forte, otherwise I am afraid you would be facing many, many empty seats every night."
Between her graceful pivots, she managed to glare at him with all the might of a mouse. "Was that entirely necessary?" she asked, silently berating herself for allowing the corner of her mouth to quiver with a smile. "I would like to see you do better. After all, I have done my fair share of dancing throughout the years, or have you forgotten?"
"I may be old, Christine, but I am not that old. My memory is still intact," he replied, though precisely how old, he was not sure. "But I still must decline. I do not dance."
Sighing, she rolled back her shoulders and raised her arms in an elegant sweep, gliding around the room as if she had a partner. "Look at me, Erik!" she exclaimed with all the careless whims of a child. "I dance with the air! Do I not look foolish?"
"Extremely," he muttered under his breath.
"Then why do you stand there mocking me? You never once mocked me during our lessons. I only wish for guidance and for my teacher's critiquing. Tell me what I can do to not look so..." Slowing her movements, she faced him in the darkness, awaiting his words.
"I would not know what to say," he eventually stated.
"Come now," she said. "Let us not pretend that the sight of me dancing offends your eyes—"
"No, you could never," he mumbled quickly. "Not you, that is to say... I only..."
Sensing his reluctance and unspoken confessions, Christine cautiously walked over to him, her fingers flexing with restrained bravery as she slid her hand into his, silently commending herself when he did not pull away. Not wishing to appear forceful, she slowly began to step backwards, gently pulling his arm as she went, willing him with her eyes to follow her. He remained still for a long moment before the darkness seemed to part before him, allowing him passage into the light.
Guiding his body, Christine boldly pulled him closer, concentrating on positioning his limp hands, mindful of a single thought. With his height, he would not make the most ideal partner and she could only imagine the awkward placement of long limbs next to her petite ones. Nevertheless, she continued to work graciously, motioning for him to stand still as she began to position herself in front of him.
Numb to her touch, Erik could only observe, his eyes burning with curiosity and discovery, as she reached for him and pulled his free hand to her waist. He did not give himself the small pleasure of allowing his fingers to rest against her back before he retracted his arms.
Christine frowned and dropped her arms to her sides as she studied him with an expression of guilt. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable? He forced himself to laugh. Her precious words were now driving his heart as naturally as air did his lungs. "The last thing I would want to do is spoil your day, but I really must decline. When I said that I do not dance I meant it. I... cannot dance."
"Cannot?" she echoed back to him.
He turned his head away from her and somehow she knew what he meant without him saying a single word. The weight of those unspoken words fell onto her just as another piece of his armour fell to the floor and, suddenly, an image unfurled in her mind. In Erik's place now stood a small boy, his youthful eyes yearning to learn, to devour and retain.
"I would like to dance with you, Erik." She spoke to the child in him, softly and without a shred of malice. "I will teach you. Would you like that, Erik? I am no great dancer, but I think I will suffice. I have always wondered what it would be like to be a teacher, your teacher," she added and, with a smile, she extended one of her hands towards him, a gesture offered to her by many a gentleman in the past. "Come," she murmured, "we shall look foolish together."
Erik could not decide whether he longed to fall into her arms or turn his back on her, but suddenly overwhelmed by memories he had once thought faded, he could not bring himself to even look her in the eye. "I couldn't ask you to do that—"
"But you are not," she retorted. "I am insisting."
Closing the distance between them, Erik paused before placing his hands on her, exactly where she had positioned them before. He held her timidly then, like a priceless vase he did not want to risk breaking, as she whispered instructions and encouraging words into his ear, gently correcting him whenever he went astray. Grateful that she did not pry for answers about times he did not wish to remember, he allowed his young protégé to teach him. Her patience and light temperament astounded him and he felt a strange feeling spreading in his chest, warming his body as her smiles fanned the flames of his accomplishment. His accomplishment. Could it be that she was... proud of him? He hoped that were true, then perhaps she would allow him to dance with her more often.
A fast learner, Erik soon was able to move around the room with his teacher pressed more securely to him. Though he would never become a virtuoso or even a passable dancer, it did not matter, not when his clumsy efforts resulted in her sweet smiles.
"For a beginner, you are..."
"Disastrous?" Erik offered.
"No," Christine chided, squeezing the hand that held hers so determinedly. "I was merely going to say that I am impressed at how quickly you were able to pick up the steps."
"Ah," he said, gazing down at her with unbridled adoration. "Your lies are obvious, Christine, but they are kind."
"I speak the truth," she insisted, feigning insult at his accusation until she turned her head to the left and noticed the quiet presence of the music box. As her feet brought her to a halt, she could not help but laugh. "We cannot dance in silence."
After excusing herself to tend to the little mechanical box, Christine found herself unable to move and she turned her head back questionably towards Erik, not resisting his firm hold on her. Though rigid, she could still feel his spindly fingers twitching at her hand and waist before promptly releasing her and drawing back, his mask pointed to the floor.
"I do not think I will continue," he said, hesitantly watching her expression every time his eyes would dare dart to her figure. "But, if you so wish it, I shall play for you whilst you dance. As an accompanist, I think would serve you better."
"Very well," she responded after a moment's thought. "Though if you are to play then I would rather listen, if you do not mind."
Hearing her voice evenly matched with his own, both ascending to the Heavens in perfect pitch and ease, would have been the only thing that would have marked this day as one of his happiest. But for Erik, to make her happy in return, was an even greater joy altogether and so it was with the deepest respect that he had happily replied, "Not at all."
Knowing what his music brought to her, he would have happily exhausted himself in the pursuit of her favour. He would have entertained her for hours, even days, playing her pieces from his extensive collection; floating arpeggios on the soft piano keys and deep, languid phrases on the violin. He would have played until his fingers had bled, and then some. Everything he did was for her, to please her.
But he could not spend the remainder of the evening selfishly keeping her to himself. Not on this night. Reluctantly, he finished his current piece, hands pressed to the now closed lid, as he turned to face her.
Though she wore no visible signs on her face, Christine secretly suffered a brief bereavement as his playing came to an end, which was soon replaced by a building sense of anticipation. A smile slowly formed on her face as the thought dawned on her.
"Is it time for our visit now?" Removing his hands from the instrument, he nodded, confirming her suspicions. Grinning wildly, Christine took no time in bounding towards her bedchamber and, in her excitement, almost forgot to compose herself. "I shan't be long!" she called from the threshold before disappearing from view and into her room.
Her smile was firmly weaved into place as she discarded her present dress in exchange for the deep blue evening dress she had left lying out on her bedside chair. Her eager fingers curled around the fine material and went to work putting it on. After this quite strenuous task, she smoothed out the skirts before walking slowly to her vanity, her eyes hovering around the wood nervously, her lean fingertips resting against the surface, hesitant to grace the sight of the necklace once again. Raising her hand, she moved it to slowly hover over the piece of jewellery before delicately picking it up by the clasp. Fingers fumbling behind her neck, she worked quickly without aid to fasten the necklace.
After wrapping a velvet jacket around her shoulders, she walked over to the full length mirror on her armoire and surveyed her attire from head to toe. The dress really was beautiful, as was the necklace, and while gazing over the both of them, she suddenly found herself smiling again, not from the prospect of her visitation but from the sight of her gifts, the mementos of Erik's love. She knew that he did not procure them in the same way usual suitors did, wishing to sway a young lady's judgement with the promise of material goods. She knew it could never be that simple between them and she found herself treasuring her gifts even more.
Shaking her head, Christine then glided across the floor to open her door. Parting the curtains, she saw Erik standing tall in the middle of the room, his hands behind his back and his foot tapping impatiently against the rug. Even from behind she could see that he was smartly dressed, as always, in black, with a large hat that was surely broad enough to cast most of his face in shadow. Descending the few steps leading down from her door, Christine walked towards him.
"How do I look?" she asked after he had heard her approach and had turned.
The sight of her, draped in elegance, with his gifts around her body and throat, made him wish for the courage to seize her hand and kiss it. "You are a vision," he stated instead, knowing it was the truth.
"Shall we go, then?"
o0o
The journey above ground was daunting enough without an adequate amount of light. Every time they walked down these pathways, most of which were slightly damp and produced a most rotten stench, Christine did not feel safe, not even when she was clutching so desperately onto Erik's hand as he led her forward. Each whisper of a step echoed loudly through those never ending corridors and each tiny sound that was not made by their footsteps caused her to jump in fright.
"I think I will enjoy seeing Caesar again," she said, in dire need to keep herself occupied on something else other than her childish fears of what could be lurking around the next corner. She had grown rather fond of that stallion over the past few months and had always greeted him with a gentle stroke to the nose, his well groomed hairs tickling her palm, and he had always responded with a grunt and a soft nudge to her shoulder.
"And he shall be the happiest creature to walk on four legs when next you meet," Erik replied, taking his time to navigate their way through, more for her comfort than anything. "But we will not be needing him tonight."
"Why ever not?"
"I have made other arrangements," he answered ambiguously, taking a sharp turn to his right.
She repeated his words, a speculative frown appearing on her face. "Other arrangements? How are we to travel if not by horseback?"
"Ah, you would not want me to spoil the surprise now, would you?"
"I do not like surprises," she grumbled beside him as she stared at their barely visible hands, seeing again that darkness which now followed her.
It was always with her now, still with her. Everywhere she went, it followed, and she was afraid. Not of it, but of herself. She was afraid that the darkness, which had sheltered her for so long, had become very much a part of her being. It was Erik's darkness that she had found poisoning the deepest corners of her mind, filling her head with unspeakable thoughts. It was on these occasions that she had questioned her sanity and how on earth he had been able to tolerate such things for years on end...
Shamefully, she had found that the more time she spent in the shadows, the more she was growing warily accustomed to them. Christine despised it and yet she was drawn in at the same time. Under its influence, who knew of what she was capable.
A door lock being slid open brought her back to her surroundings and as Erik silently pushed the heavy door open, the rusty hinges gave out a cry of displeasure as their unused joints creaked with age. He gently pulled Christine along behind him, out of the passageway and finally into the secluded clearing she vaguely remembered from months before. The thick veil of twilight covered the entire glade and Christine felt her eyes flit about in an attempt to soak up the beauty in front of her. As she moved forward, she noticed how the mist at her feet would part before her and as she peered at the ground, a sudden coldness claimed her hand.
Erik had vanished.
A small noise of vexation left her mouth at his sudden disappearance. Under usual circumstances she would have waited in this very spot for his return with Caesar, but he had said that they would not be travelling by horseback tonight and so she was forced to stand there, alone and ignorant.
When his figure once again appeared, he silenced her forthcoming words with a single finger to his lips. She could only stare at him with a bemused look on her face as he took her hand and led her in the direction he had just come from. As they progressed, the trees and the mist became less dense and they soon came to a halt next to a gravel road.
"Erik," she whispered, the sharp nip of the wind toying at her skin and teasing her hair, "what are we doing out here?"
"You shall see soon enough," he replied, his head hidden by the large rim of his hat.
Christine was about to question him further when she heard a faint rumble in the distance. As this trundling sound became more distinguishable, she realised that it was the sound of hooves and wheels. A carriage! She gasped and did not pause to think before trying to drag Erik through the trees once more, needing their concealment now more than ever. She did not want to risk either of them being seen, or worse, recognised. Despite her strong willed efforts to hide, Erik, surprisingly, remained as solid as rock and was unaffected by her attempts to move him.
"Why are you just standing there?" she asked pressingly, her eyes darting about to see if the carriage was in sight yet. "We must go! What if we are recognised and someone alerts the authorities! Imagine what they would do to you if they were to find out that you are still alive and in Paris! Oh Lord, we must make haste!"
Erik only chuckled in sheer amusement. "I appreciate your concern, but your delightful ravings are in vain, my dear."
"Ravings?" she all but hissed. "Pray, why are my ravings in vain?"
"Because this carriage arrives for us." As he spoke, two horses began to round the nearby corner.
"For... for us?" she stuttered just as the carriage came to a complete standstill at their feet and she stared up at its plain black exterior—completely inconspicuous in every way.
Stepping back, she could not help but peer at the coach driver—a plump sort of fellow who seemed to curl into himself. His eyes shone warily ahead, knuckles turning white with the amount of force he was exerting on the reins.
"You know where you are to take us?" Erik asked the driver, his tone flat but assertive. The driver nodded his heavy head as he continued to stare at nothing but the empty road which stretched out before them. "Good." Erik then turned his back on the driver and proceeded to open the carriage door. Bowing slightly, he extended his hand gracefully, his skeleton fingers unfurling one by one in a friendly offer of assistance. "After you, my dear." The driver now forgotten, Christine saw nothing but his hand and she graciously accepted it, stepping swiftly inside. "I shall only be a moment," he added before shutting the door behind her.
Settling into the seat, Christine turned to her left to peer out of the window but merely stared at the glass in curiosity. It was uncommonly thick, making the environment outside even darker and more obscured. Her hand crept up towards the pane and she pressed her fingers against the surface. It was ice cold.
At that moment, the door swung open and Christine was met with the soft breath of night air. She allowed her greedy lungs to take in this cool breeze and calm her unsteady heart as Erik climbed in and closed the door.
She frowned at him as the carriage jolted into a start. "Erik?"
"Yes?" he said, studying her every move, trying to figure out what exactly was troubling her.
"Why are the windows tinted?" She nodded her head towards the one on her left and then turned back towards him. "Is it entirely necessary?"
"Is it not self-explanatory?"
"Oh," she murmured. It was a precaution, she realised. "Well," she continued, trying to change the subject, "where are you taking me? May I know?"
"Ah, now that is a surprise," he replied, a sense of smugness creeping over him.
Christine relaxed into the seat behind her and placed her hands in her lap. "I told you I do not like surprises," she mumbled for the second time that night.
"You will like this one," he told her cryptically, an unfamiliar glint reflecting in his eyes as they trailed from her face and down to her throat, where the necklace lay. "You are beautiful," he told her, speaking his thoughts aloud before the rational part of his mind could reprimand or stop him. "I... I am pleased that you are wearing it."
Her hand found his in the shadows and she held it tightly, the blush which then bled across her cheeks almost stunning her into a silence. "I wear it for you."
A/N: Thank you for the continuing support!