Christine dans Deux
An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2006
DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Forty-Six – His Plan
As we walk away from the stables, I attempt to lighten the mood by gently teasing him. "Really, you are incorrigible, my dearest! Here we are walking down a public street and you make me wish...ahhh! I love that you can make me feel so! So, where are we going now? To the train?"
"Yes. We buy our tickets and then I need to wire ahead to Paris. I plan a grand entrance for our arrival at the station. One, which will cause the gossips' tongue to wag with speculation about our reason for being in Paris. After all, we are to be performers as well as producers of this opera. And we need to make an entrance so the papers will make mention of us. Publicity is the key to drawing in an audience. We need people talking so word will spread to those in the upper classes. The Vicomte fancies himself a purveyor of the arts. If word spreads about a lavish production at the opera house, I would lay wager he will offer his patronage. That would be ironic. Would it not? Have de Chagny finance the opera that sets his wife free."
We stroll, arm-in-arm along the beautiful avenue. At a large stone bridge, we cross over a river, which glistens with the reflected light of the gas street lamps.
"It's beautiful." I murmur.
"Yes," he agrees. "That is the Canal d'Ille et Rance. The badly polluted river ran through the city. After the fire of 1720, the city dug out and cleaned the canal. The project wasn't finished until the 1850's. The canal is quite beautiful in daylight. The clear water has a reddish tint from the clay in the soil. During the spring run off, the water is still red, but it becomes thick and clouded with mud. It is quite ugly then and dangerous as well. I like the canal best at this time of year. Listen. Doesn't it sound peaceful?"
I see a street sign just as we step off the bridge. We are at the intersection of Rue St. Malo and Boulevard de Chézy. We turn onto the boulevard and continue our walk.
"Yes. I apologize for interrupting your soliloquy, but I thought we were already near the station. We seem to be walking away from the center of the town."
"We are ma chére cœur. May I ask for you to indulge me and allow me to take slight detour from our plans? At most, it will delay us for an hour. It is still early only five o'clock and the trains run until midnight."
"Erik, of course! Do you even need to ask?"
He stops and turns to me. "You want no explanation?"
"Dearest, I need no explanation from you. I trust you completely. No second thoughts, no backward glances."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes. You know I do."
"Good! Come with me!"
While I need no explanation, I am curious about our destination. However, since I don't know Rennes, I am completely at his mercy. It feels grand!
A horse cab and driver are sitting at the side of the road. Erik hails the man. He releases my arm and walks to the driver. They seem to be striking a deal and I see money change hands. The driver walks to his cab, swings the door open and holds out his hand to me.
"May I assist you, Mademoiselle?"
"Thank you." I allow him to help me step up into his hack and move over so Erik will have room to sit. The seat is small, but I don't mind having an excuse to cuddle up with Erik.
"It's just a short ride, ma chére cœur."
"Monsieur, I am not in need of your concern. I am blissfully happy right where I am."
I snake my arms around his arm and hug my face to his bicep. Unfortunately, he wasn't exaggerating about the brevity of the trip. Less than five minutes later, the driver halts the cab. While I am making a concerted effort not to pry into what exactly Erik is up to, he is positively exuding a nervous excitement I have never felt from him before.
What on earth is he planning? I give a mental shrug. I will know soon enough.
The driver opens the cab door. Erik exits and turning quickly offers me his hand. I take it and step down from the cab. I look before me, my gaze drawn up as I follow the line of the building before me. It is a tall white stone church. The entrance is a dark arch, tall and wide. Above it there is another dark arch.
The driver shutting the cab door behind me startles me. Erik, still holding my hand in his, leads me up the stairs. He pauses as his hand touches the door and turns to me. His eyes bright and wide, his grip upon my hand tightening, he falls to one knee and looks intently into my eyes.
"Christine," he begins, "I love you. You know I do. And I know you love me. I asked and you accepted, but I must ask again. Will you marry me? Now?"
His eyes are dark and earnest. He continues before I can draw my breath to reply.
"Ever since I asked you, I have been thinking about marrying you and being married to you. I think about it all the time. It sometimes proves to be quite a distraction to me. With all that we must do soon in Paris, I need to have my wits about me. We have so much to do and plan. We can keep our marriage a secret. That way you can still be our secret. And, if our sleeping arrangements cause a scandal, we can prove that we are in truth already married. It will be one less thing about which I need be concerned. I do not wish to ruin your reputation, yet I need you. And simply, I do not wish to wait any longer. Please?"
The words tumble out of his mouth in a such a rush that I stand on tiptoe and silence him with my lips.
"Yes." I breathe into his mouth.
He returns my kiss and then lifting me into the air, spins me about as he laughs merrily.
"Why were you so nervous, dearest? Did you truly believe I would refuse you?"
"Well, you seemed so happy with the plans to wed at Montmuran and I did not wish to disappoint you."
"Dearest, we can still be married at Montmuran. This will be our wedding. The other will be for those we love to witness. Tonight, will be our wedding night, my dearest."
"Our wedding night." He agrees and returns my body to the earth, but our soul soars.
He opens the door and we enter. There are a few scattered people praying inside. I quickly raise the hood of my cloak to cover my head. I remember, almost too late, that when inside a church, the rules require women to cover their heads. I am surprised to see Erik dip his fingers into the holy water vessel next to the door and make a sign of the cross. He smiles at my surprise.
"For a time, I thought the church would provide me a place to hide from the world. And, they did, but I was not made for celibacy so we parted ways." He whispers.
I, too, dip my fingers into the holy water and make a sign of the cross. I say a silent prayer.
"I thank you for this gift
This gift of love
This gift wrapped
Within the body of this man
This gift assures my today
My tomorrow and always
I promise him
I promise you
I promise to love him forever
And always be true."
"Sir, I rejoice for that parting of ways. It brought you to me."
He squeezes my hand in reply.
A tall, rather handsome young man wearing a black cassock walks towards us. The expression he wears is pleasant, but guarded.
"May I welcome you to the Church of Saint-Etienne and Saint-Augustin? Our doors our open to all who wish to worship the Lord God. Mass is not until morning and we hear confessions after Mass."
As he pauses to take a breath, Erik gently interrupts him.
"Father, we have an urgent matter and we need your assistance."
The young man seems to find reassurance in Erik's calling him, "Father." His demeanor relaxes somewhat.
"How may I help, my son?"
I feel Erik drawing on my writing abilities as he speaks.
"This good lady and I are in love. We are betrothed and our bands posted for Christmas day, but an emergency has called us to Paris. Father, we love each other very much. Circumstances have necessitated we travel alone together. I am concerned for her reputation and wish to marry her tonight."
A pleased smile erupts on the young priest's face. He turns to me.
"My child, do you wish to marry this man?"
"Yes, Father. I do."
"And are you both Roman Catholic?"
We answer in unison, "Yes, Father."
"Then I believe I can help you, my son."
Erik reaches forward and places his hand on the man's forearm.
"My lady and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
"No thanks are needed, my son. Please. Come with me."
Erik and I follow the young priest down the center aisle of the church. There are three altars in this church. The center altar is the largest, yet simplest in design. The side altars are small and made from very ornately carved marble.
The priest leads us through the sacristy through a small changing room to an even smaller office. He walks to the desk and after rummaging about withdraws two printed sheets of parchment and a fountain pen.
"I just need some information for the marriage certificates. And then we will return to the church. I have found it best to do the paperwork before the wedding because after the wedding, well, before is better."
Erik and I nod our agreement. I feel as if the smile I wear on my face will split me in two. My husband-to-be is outwardly calm, but just below the surface I feel his raging emotions. I begin to ask a silent question, but the priest speaks first.
"May I have the groom's name, date and place of birth, please?"
I feel Erik pause, but only for a moment. I hear him ask God's forgiveness as he lies to the priest.
"Erik Luis Anton Vuillard de Mornay, November 13, 1855, le Château de Montmuran, le département de l'Ille et Vilaine, Bretagne."
The man writes and then pauses.
His voice speaks softly within my mind, "The lie is necessary as I no longer look my age. Might I suggest you use 1857 as your year of birth?" I acknowledge his words with a slight nod of my head.
"My son, de Mornay or DeMornay?"
"de Mornay, Father. My baptismal certificate is here in this church and will bear me out."
The priest lifts a hand.
"I am not accusing you of anything, my son. Simply, I am confessing my surprise. I was unaware Monsieur le Comte had a son."
"There were circumstances …." Erik looks at the priest for a moment and then turns away.
"You need not say any more. I do not believe the sins of the fathers should be visited on the son."
Erik's eyes tentatively return to those of the younger man. They share a look of understanding and the priest places a compassionate hand on Erik's shoulder.
"This is a good man." Silently, I agree.
The priest removes his hand from Erik's shoulder and turns to me.
May I have the bride's name, date and place of birth, please?"
"Christine Jean-Marie Anastasia Maire, November 4, 1857, Brest, le département de Finistère, Bretagne."
I see Erik cover his grin by clearing his throat.
"Almost finished. There. Erik, I need you to sign both certificates here. One for the church and one for you."
Erik takes the pen and signs his name.
"And now, the bride. Just make your mark there and there, my child."
I cannot resist the temptation. I sign my assumed full name and add a flourish beneath it as I am accustomed to do.
The priest is shocked, but quickly hides it.
"My apologies. I assumed. Well, God has chosen to teach me a lesson in humility this day." He smiles at me sincerely.
"No apologies are necessary, Father. I am the eldest of three daughters and our father who is a physician had all of us tutored in our letters as well as mathematics, science and history."
"Your father is a very unusual man to treat his daughters thus. I am not certain if most would think him wise or think him a fool."
"I choose to think him wise. I am most fortunate that he is my father."
The priest blows on the wet ink for a few moments.
"Erik, here this is for you to keep. This document certifies the marriage you are about to enter into. Tomorrow, I will notify the town registrar of your nuptials and he will record it in the town's logs. This second document will remain as a part of the church's records." He claps his hands together and rubs them for a moment. "Shall we proceed to the church?"
Our return trip through the back rooms of the church is a blur. I feel as if I am floating on clouds instead of walking on the ground.
The priest pauses in the sacristy and dons his vestments. We then continue to the smaller altar to the right of the center altar.
"Erik and Christine, please wait here for a moment."
The priest walks to an old woman who is clutching a rosary in her hands and speaks to her. She nods, rises and walks over to us. She smiles, but says nothing. The priest approaches another woman who kneels in prayer. He speaks to her as well and she too nods and joins us at the altar. The priest returns to stand before us.
"Erik, please stand here. Christine, you here. Rose, you here. And, Teresa, here. Very good. I believe we are ready to begin if the bride and groom are ready?"
We both nod.
"Erik, the ring?" The priest seems apologetic in his request and I begin to take my engagement ring from my finger. Erik surprises us both when he removes a small jeweler case from his pocket. He opens the box and removes two simple gold bands.
"Father, I would like to wear a ring as a sign that on this day I made a promise to this wonderful lady to be her good and faithful husband. Would that be all right?"
"That is most certainly all right. Let us begin."
I cannot relate now any of the words spoken by the priest for they were in Latin and my Latin is spotty at best. However, we did speak our vows using words I understood and will hold in my heart until the day I die.
Erik speaks his vows first.
"I, Erik, take you, Christine, to be my wife.
I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.
I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.
Christine, with all my worldly goods I do thee endow.
Christine, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
And then it is my turn.
"I, Christine, take you, Erik, to be my husband.
I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.
I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.
Erik, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
Finally, the ceremony concludes with the priest's prayer.
"The two of you have declared your consent before the Church.
May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent
and fill you both with his blessings.
What God has joined together let no man put asunder
I proclaim what was once two now joined as one.
Tokens of your promises to one another
You have exchanged with one another on this day.
As the circles of gold you wear upon your hands
have no beginning and no end, so does your love have no beginning or end.
Go forth and live in love all the days of your lives.
I declare you now before the sight of God and man to be man and wife
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
Erik and Christine,
I ask that you now seal your union before the sight of God and man with a kiss.
Erik, you may kiss your bride."
We turn to one another and Erik lifts the cloak from my head.
"My darling wife, our first wedded kiss."
And he proceeds to make it a short, but memorable one.
The priest steps towards Erik and taking his hand in his, shakes it in congratulations. He turns to me, smiles, leans forward then shyly places a dry kiss on my forehead.
"May you both be blessed with this love all of your days.
Congratulations to you both!"
We madly smile and thank him profusely. Erik hands a pouch to the priest.
"Father, a donation to the church from Erik and Christine de Mornay."
He smiles and his eyes grow wide as he feels the weight of it.
"Thank you both."
"Farewell, Father! Words cannot begin to express our thanks! We must hurry now for we have a train to catch."
We turn and leave the church our arms linked tightly together as a husband and a wife.