Christine dans Deux
An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2006
DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Thirty-Four – Of Petticoats and Corsets
"I will return as soon as I can."
I call over my shoulder and with that I run up the landing, round a couple of corners and race down another hall. I pause for a moment before my father's bedroom door to catch my breath. I look upon the face of my beloved. Waves of relief wash over me as I take in the marvelous sight I hold in my arms. Thankfully, she is asleep. Her body feels solid once more and even better, her appearance has substance. I hit the door latch with my elbow and back into the door to open it. I notice the return of everything in the room to order after my earlier "nap" here.
I gently place Christine on the bed and then tenderly remove her shoes. I stand next to the bed and allow all of my senses to feast upon this vision of loveliness. My mind records the sight of her pulse beating along her neck, the smell of her bath soap and perfume, the sound of her peaceful breathing. The color seems to be returning to her cheeks, but she still has huge dark circles about her eyes. I want to undress her, but I am afraid it will wake her. And then, on the other hand, how can she sleep comfortably in all that? I make a mental list of the items of clothing available for me to remove. I decide I can remove her blouse, her stockings, her skirt, petticoats and corset. Removing those items should help her rest easier. I will never understand how women can abide being trussed up like they do.
Starting at the top, I pull her blouse free from the skirt and undo the buttons from the neck down. I take her wrist and find more buttons there. I unbutton the last four buttons and peel the silk from her body. I toss the blouse onto a nearby chair.
It feels strange to lift up Christine's skirt and look for her garter when she is asleep. I feel a little guilty as I peep under her skirt. I remind myself, this woman who swam naked in the lake before my home and then stood unashamedly before me wrapped only in the glory granted her by God. This woman with whom I have made love so many times. This woman. Mine! I remind myself that she is mine and has no objections to being nude in my presence.
My fumbling fingers find her garter and open the clasps. I slide one silk stocking from her leg. Then I move to her other leg and repeat. I neatly hang her stockings over the back of the armchair.
I roll Christine onto her side. Even though she cannot weigh more then seven stone, it is no easy task with the petticoats, ruffles and bustle. The row of tiny buttons on her skirt seems to never end. After the 25th button my fingers feel bruised. After the 50th they are numb. My fingers look red and raw as I finally undo the last one.
With the skirt now lying flat on the bed, I loosen the ties of her petticoats and pull it down and off. I carefully lift her up and pull the skirt from beneath her. The skirt and petticoats join the blouse and stockings on the chair.
Now to the removal of the corset. I have a vague notion of untying and unhooking something. I look at the delicate lace of the undergarment and marvel that I am here doing this. I untie the satin bow and begin to the work of loosening the laces.
"How does this thing come off?" I think.
Upon closer examination, I discover that the laces on one side slip off small hooks. Finally, I work the stays loose. I gently lift Christine and pull the corset from under her. I toss it with the rest of her clothes on the chair.
I stare at her for a moment considering what else I can do to make her more comfortable. I smile and nod to myself. I bend over her head and carefully remove the pins and barrette holding her hair in place. These I place on my father's dresser. I take a moment to survey my work and satisfied, return my eyes to Christine. She looks so beautiful! I had nothing to do with that, but she does. Her breathing is slow and regular. And I swear the rings about her eyes are fading fast. She lies atop my father's bed in a chemise and pantaloons. I do not think I have ever seen a lovelier sight than my Christine lying on my father's bed. I take this moment and tuck it away with all of my other special memories of her.
Christine stirs and a slight shiver courses through her slender body. "Fool! " I unfold the blanket from the foot of the bed and cover her with it.
I gather up her clothes and go to my father's wardrobe. I hang the skirt, petticoats and blouse on hangars in the wardrobe. I place her boots next to the bed just in case she needs them. Her stockings and corset I fold and place on the dresser next to her hair pins and barrette.
There! Done! I do not wish to leave her just yet, so I slide the armchair closer to the bed and sit down to keep watch over her.
This woman willingly took a decade of pain and suffering into herself for someone she does not even know. Why would she do that? I sit and think about that for a long time. Why? And then, the answer comes … she does it because she can and therefore, she must.
I memorize every detail of her face. The small freckle on her right cheek. The purple spot on the left side of her lower lip. And then I notice something I have not noticed before. A scar. She has a scar on her chin that runs along the right bottom edge of it. I know that was not there this morning. I feel the feather tickle of fear graze my mind and roughly brush it aside. I decide that the scar was there. I must not have noticed it, that's all.
"I wonder how that happened. We have many things yet to discover about one another. I look forward to it. I just wish this part done, so we could get on with living. I am so tired of waiting for my life to begin."
As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I feel guilty.
"No, I take it back. At least now I have a life to begin. Before Christine I existed, now I live. I have plans to make before we journey to Paris. Many plans."
Christine flings her hand out towards me and I see the flash of the diamonds from her finger. I stare at the ring watching the sparkling rainbow and begin to make a mental list of things I need to do. I drift off to sleep sitting in the chair next to my beloved with her hand in mine.
"Such peace I have never known until now …." I whisper contentedly.
I awaken to a gentle hand shaking my arm. I open my eyes and see my father kneeling before me. He touches his lips with his forefinger and moves his eyes towards the bed. I look at the bed and smile. Christine and I are holding hands. My father stands and moves toward the door and motions for me to follow him. I lower my head to her hand and place a kiss on it then release it and follow my father out of the room closing the door behind me.
I lean against the door and rub the sleep from my eyes. I feel my father watching me.
"You have something to say?"
"You realize you have the household gossiping about that young lady, don't you?"
"What? Why?"
"The two of you in there just the two of you. It's not wise, Erik. I think her a fine woman and do not wish to see her reputation besmirched. Especially not if you intend to visit here often or … and I hope this will be the case … intend to live here with me. The servants can be vicious if they do not respect someone, especially the women. I found this out the hard way with your mother."
"Thank you for your concern, but I believe once they meet Christine, well, they cannot help but love her. She just has this ability to win people over. You will see. If you haven't already. But, I believe you love her already, do you not?"
He chuckles softly.
"Yes, she is a constant surprise to me. I truly enjoy speaking with her. She is one of the most intelligent women I have ever met. Where was she born? I hear a faint accent."
"She was raised in the United States. Recently, she decided to visit France as she is descended from a branch of the family de Wolfe which emigrated first to Scotland in the mid-13th Century, then to Ireland, back to England and then on to the United States in the form of William Brewster, religious leader to the Pilgrims on the Mayflower."
"A very distant cousin to the de Wolfe? Now that is ironic. After all our years of feuding we have our own Romeo and Juliet. The innocent lovers."
His remark and the knowing smile in his eyes cause me to flush.
"Now, now! My boy, I am not judging you or your lady. Who am I to speak? Am I so wise? On what side of the sheets were you born? No, it is seeing you so happy. For a man your age you are incredibly naïve in such matters. Erik, I have but one request, do not allow your love story to come to the same end as Romeo and Juliet. Or mine for that matter. I could not bear it."
"Believe me, father, Christine and I have no intention of dying for love. We wish to live in love."
"My boy, I wish I had had your courage when I was your age."
He pats my arm and sweeping his hand in the direction of the foyer says, "Shall we?"
"Yes, let's."