Christine dans Deux
An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2006
DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Fifty-Two – Ready? Surprise!
I sigh.
"There will be many more nights, Christine."
"Yes, indeed, but never another wedding night. The night is morning all too soon."
"I beg to differ. We will have another wedding night on December 25th."
He snuggles into me and we are both tempted to forget all of our other concerns and become lost within the bliss of our love. Only a single thought stops us. The happiness of Christine and Etienne. We have so much and I am thankful for all of it. They deserve their time of bliss as well.
Erik puts my thoughts, our thoughts, into words.
"The sooner we attend to their happiness, the sooner all of us may attend to our own happily ever after. Besides, I need to be decent enough to answer the door. I am expecting a delivery here before we depart for Paris."
"A delivery? Here? What is it?"
I look up at him and see a mischievous grin.
"Oh! A surprise? For me? Oh goody!" I clap my hands and give him my best little girl impression.
"We need to save this act for later as it has definite possibilities."
"Hmm … my husband, you wait for us to be married before you tell me of your fetishes."
His fingers lightly play up my sides.
"Erik! You had better stop. That feels so sexy. I will lose control of myself and I won't let you get dressed for the delivery."
No sooner do the words leave my mouth than the sound of knocking comes from the salon.
"Saved by the knock. Better hurry, dearest."
I laugh as he leaps from the bed and grabs his shirt and trousers from the floor. The former opera ghost hops out of the room on one foot as he slips into his trousers. I hear the sound of murmuring male voices and a door closing. I snuggle deeper under the covers and await my surprise.
The silence coming from the next room is unexpected.
"Erik? You want some help?"
"No, thank you. Stay right where you are. And no peeking!"
"Nope. Wouldn't do that. I like surprises. First, the wedding. Now, this. This is nice! Better watch out, Erik I could get used to being spoiled by you."
"Precisely what I intend, beloved."
He enters the room his arms heavily laden with boxes, parcels and packages ranging from large to quite small. He expertly balances the ever-shifting mound and stops at the foot of the bed. He deposits the load on the bed then with his astonishing agility and speed, jumps over the mound. He lands softly on the bed next to me. His eyes shining with pleasure.
"You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."
"Well, in all actuality, I do feel rather pleased with myself. You had no idea I was up to any of this, did you?"
"No, I didn't. I may have access." I tap a finger to my forehead. "But, I never, ever peek! Unless, of course, I'm invited."
His smile grows wider.
"Shall we begin?"
"Maestro, I am yours to command."
"We shall save that for another time as well. We shall begin with the largest and work our way down. Please sit up, ma chére cœur. Start with this one."
He sets the smaller items to the side and slides a large rectangular box to me. I clear my throat and lift the lid. Tossing the lid to the floor, I see layers of tissue paper inside the box. I turn to Erik.
"Thank you."
"You don't know what it is yet."
"That's not what I'm thanking you for."
He lifts an eyebrow; his eyes sparkle crystal blue-green. "May I inquire why you are thanking me?"
"I am thanking you for you."
His mouth works for a moment as his mind runs through possible responses. At last he decides.
"You are most welcome."
"Good answer."
"I endeavor to please. Now, enough stalling. Lift the tissue."
My hand does his bidding and reveals a sea of gleaming teal cloth. I touch it. The material is buttery soft and smooth. Removing it from the box and shaking it, the folds leave no creases. I hold it up and see a hood.
"A cloak! It's beautiful! And so light. How elegant. What is this material?"
"It is transparent velvet."
"I've never heard of that."
"Do you like it?"
"Yes."
I twirl it above my head and bring it down about my shoulders.
"Nice. Fitted shoulders." I let out an inadvertent snort.
"And this noise means?"
"Since I don't believe you had time to have this tailor-made for me, this must have been a man's cloak or at the very least a young man's. My shoulders are broader than most women's."
My voice trails away as our eyes meet. I see teasing there.
"Well, beloved, it was a woman's cloak. You're much too short for a man's cloak. I chose this cloak because it had shoulder pads and I had them removed so it would fit you. I had to have this one. It almost matches your eyes. Of course, your eyes are more beautiful by far."
"Flattery, sir, will get you everywhere!"
"A threat or a promise, Madame?"
"Promise … as if you didn't know."
The room lurches and the low rumbling and rattle of the wheels slowly begin to build.
"Paris, here we come!" I murmur.
"You sound ambivalent."
"Well, this trip isn't simply to celebrate our marriage. We go to scheme and wreak vengeance upon a sadistic rapist. Then, on the other hand, we go to free Christine from this beast and allow her a chance at a happily ever after. I would say ambivalent covers it just about fine. I also worry about you being a visible presence in Paris. I worry that Raoul could have you arrested or worse. The thought of something happening to you is more than I can bear. We risk much in attempting this. And we gain nothing. Trystin and I are no longer at risk. Yet, how can I blithely go on with my life happy and content in the rapture of your love when I know that Christine suffers? Simple. I cannot. So, on to Paris."
He takes me into his arms. Safely secure within the warm cocoon of his arms, my fears seem silly. Yet, having lost a child, I know that the world is bursting with horrible things happening to unsuspecting decent people. I return his embrace.
"We do what we have to and then go on, yes?"
I nod still within his embrace. He places a kiss on the top of my head, and then releases me.
"Please, ma chére cœur, no sorrow now! I have gifts for my lovely wife."
"Yes, you do."
"Yes, I do! This one is next."
He chooses a medium size box and places it before me.
"Does is bark?"
"No, but it did make a mooing noise prior to its demise."
"A box of beef jerky? You know I'm a vegetarian!" I respond with mock horror.
"Christine, please?"
I open the box and find a pair of dark teal boots. The boots pull onto my foot and end mid-calf. They have a suede upper with a shearling lamb shaft topped with a tassel drawstring. I notice cunningly crafted pockets at the place where the suede and shearling meet on both the outer and inner sides of the boots. Pockets perfect for my knives. The soles of the boots are suede making the boots light and flexible, perfect for walking, running or climbing in stealthy silence.
"You are a sneak! Erik, how long have you been planning this?"
"Since the day I first returned to France. I made the first arrangements for our wedding and these gifts when I was with Christine in Paris. I sent a telegram to arrange a carriage for us from Rennes to Château de Montmuran, but it also contained instructions to the cab driver, Bruno. He is the person who helped me obtain information about my family. He arranged for these. I told my father of my intention to marry you the night before last. He heartily approved. It seems I was not the only one worried about consequences. As a wedding gift, my father paid for these." Erik's arm sweeps across the bed indicating the packages.
"So, you did have the cloak custom-tailored for me."
"Yes, my beloved wife. I did."
He raises a restraining hand to me.
"Christine, the sooner you finish opening these, the sooner we can clear off the bed, yes?"
"Of course, Erik."
He chooses another large box that contains an opera dolman with jet and silk chenille; another box contains a pair of black velvet opera boots with Louis heels; another has a pair of beautiful red and gold Turkish ball mule pumps; another, a pink silk faille opera gown with pearled lace and metallic brocade inserts.
"Erik, this dress looks as if it were made by Worth."
"You are correct. How did you know?"
"I collect vintage clothing, remember? I recognize the strong shell architecture of the dress and the high quality of the fabric. Although there is no tag, this has to be a one of a kind dress. It is simply exquisite. Thank you!"
Another box has a one piece embroidered bustle presentation gown with a pair of fancy silk brocade and kid lace-up gloves; another has a pink silk and lace reception gown with silk bows and a natural form bustle (this dress is very sexy for the 1880's and most likely never meant for a married woman to wear, but a young unmarried woman); another, a spoon bonnet of woven shiny horsehair with netting, silver and black silk taffeta, ivory silk velvet bows and trimmed with a huge silver silk-satin chrysanthemum; another, a ball gown of silk satin and taffeta brocade in a pale celadon green with tiny pink and green brocaded flowers with pink iridescent taffeta stripes interspersed between the brocade flowers. The gown has a scround neckline and will show off quite a bit of décolleté; there are night gowns, undergarments, hose, walking boots, capes, shawls, purses, hats, gloves, fans, veils, hat pins, hair jewelry, pin broaches, cameos, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, rings and earrings.
Overwhelmed, I look at the amazing collection spread before me.
"Dearest, I … I … Oh my!"
I fling myself into his arms and burst into tears.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can't believe you did this! And you did it for me!"
Releasing him, I raise my head to look into his eyes. Our eyes meet and he blushes. He scoots away from me and stops me from chasing him with a motion of his hands.
"Wait. I have just one more."
He holds his hands flat with his palms facing down in the space between us. His two forefingers press together and his thumbs tuck under his palms. He slowly turns his hands over and a flat square purple velvet box appears seemingly from thin air.
"That was … well, all I can say is that whatever is in that box had … I take it back. I don't think there is anything that can top that. I've never seen anything like that before. Well, I've seen David Blane on television and you two would really get along very well. Okay, you can stop me any time now … I'm babbling."
He grins.
"This is my wedding gift to you. The rest is just the necessary trappings to fit in at the opera house, so I don't consider those real presents. Although, I'm sure to enjoy seeing you in them. I wanted my gift to you to be special, so I designed it myself. Here."
He places the box on the bed before me and I pick it up. The hinge lid is tight and the velvet slippery so I fumble for a moment. Then I get a firm grip and open the box. The box lined with ivory satin is a 5-piece presentation box. The outer ring of the box has a necklace; the middle ring, an anklet; the inner ring, a bracelet; and sitting side-by-side in the center of the box a pair of drop earrings.
I sit in stunned silence for a long time.
"This is considered a parure, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"You designed this for me? Erik…." I begin, then stop, then begin again, "Erik, this is magnificent! Do you really think I can wear this? That your t-shirt and blue jean girl can pull off wearing this? I am in complete awe! Wait! You DO think that! Don't you! Love blinds you! Thank God for that! And thank you, my love! They are truly works of art."
"Would you like me to tell you about them?"
"Yes, I would. I don't know these stones."
"Oh, that's citrine. Anyway, I was thinking about you, no surprise there. And I'm not certain why, but I remembered the first time I saw you handle your swords. It gave me this image of you as a gothic warrior queen, so I used that theme as my inspiration. The necklace, anklet and bracelet have a pattern of alternating volutes and flowers. See? The little gold seashells are volutes. The volutes dangle from a side-mounted, oval cut citrine. I favor pale yellow citrine. The stones in the flowers are emeralds. With emeralds, I feel the darker, the better. I prefer them to have the bluish cast that those do. For the necklace's drape, I placed a hanging flower between two tear-drops. All of the stones in the drape are diamonds. The earrings are also diamonds. All of the gold is 18k yellow gold, so you must take care as it is softer than 10k or 14k. I prefer the darkness of the 18k gold. Now, it's my turn to babble."
"It is stunning. And the workmanship is superb. I can't believe all of the detail in those shells … volutes. Thank you, Erik. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever even hope to receive such a wonderful wedding present nor did I dream I would ever marry a man so perfect for me."
"May I?"
I nod. He removes the necklace from the box and places around my throat. He slides the clasp closed. I turn to him.
"Now, that is truly a stunning sight."
I glance down to see if I can catch sight of the necklace, then stop. I look at Erik and see he isn't looking at the necklace. He is looking at me sitting naked on the bed with my wedding gift around my neck.
"No more than the sight I'm seeing."
"I hate to be the one ruining the mood, but we most likely have half an hour before the train arrives in Paris. We need to wash, dress and pack."
"Oh dear!"
"What is it?"
"Where am I going to pack all of this?"
"In the trunks."
"I see. They delivered steamer trunks along with the rest. You really are very sneaky. I had no idea."
He chuckles.
The next half hour is a blur of preparation for our grand arrival.
FYI: THE CLOTHING AND JEWELRY DESCRIBED EXIST, AS DOES LE GRAND HOTEL. AND, YES, YOU CAN ACTUALLY WATCH THE GUESTS OF THE PRIVATE CLUB FROM THE ROOF OF THE OPERA HOUSE. LASTLY, THE JOINING OF TWO SOULS (HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING) CAUSES THE TRANSFER OF INNATE ABILITIES--NOT THE TRANSFER OF LEARNED ABILITIES OR KNOWLEDGE, HENCE ERIK'S INABILITY TO COPE WITH HIS NEWLY TRANSFERRED EMPATHY.