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Chapter Forty-Five

After dining at the café with Madame Giry, all of the women set out for the Girys' flat. Upon arriving, Christine beamed as she showed her gown to her foster mother. "Do you think that Erik will approve?" she asked sheepishly.

"My dear, Erik would approve of you regardless of what you wore," Madame Giry smiled. "You will be absolutely beautiful. Now, why don't you try to lie down and get a little rest before it is time to go to the church?"

Christine's stomach fluttered. "My goodness…this is really happening, isn't it? I am going to be married tonight!" She stared in awe at Meg and Madame Giry, overcome with emotion. "Am I truly ready for this? What if…what if I'm not a good wife to him, Madame? What if I can't do anything right?" She began to cry and soon she felt an arm about her shoulders.

"You love him, yes?"

Christine nodded with her eyes tightly closed.

"And he loves you…and you are committed to each other. All other things will work themselves out in time." Madame Giry chuckled softly. "I remember when I married Meg's father…I had the very same fears."

"You-you did?" Christine asked incredulously, looking up into the older woman's face.

"Of course, my dear! If you did not have these fears, then that would cause me to worry! It is perfectly normal to be apprehensive about such things. But you must trust your husband, and you must trust in God. You can do anything you set your mind to, Christine…I have believed that since you were a little girl."

Christine wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed. "Thank you."

"Now," Madame Giry directed her, "go and lie down on my bed for a while. I will come and wake you when it is time to go."

Christine complied and fell asleep almost immediately on the soft, down quilt.

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Father Michel was sitting in his study when there was a sudden knock upon his door. "Yes?"

"Monsieur, might I have a word with you?" came the male voice on the other side of the door.

Father Michel rose from his armchair and stepped to the door, hoping that he would not regret it. It could be someone who wishes to rob me, I suppose…but then, I have very little to rob…ah, well, best just get on with it. He curiously opened the door and was surprised to see a tall, brown-skinned man standing before him. The man removed his hat almost immediately, revealing a nearly bald head.

"May I help you, Monsieur?" the old priest questioned the man.

"I hope so…you are Father Michel, are you not?"

"Yes, I am. And who might you be?" Father Michel smiled.

The man fidgeted nervously. "I…I am a friend of Erik's."

"Oh?" Father Michel eyed the man skeptically. "And why should I believe that?"

The man laughed. "No wonder Erik likes you so much. You truly are protective of him, aren't you?"

Father Michel was stunned at the man's response. "Yes, I'm afraid that I am protective of him. Does he need protecting from you?" He shot him the fiercest look that he had in his arsenal.

The manlaughed more loudly this time. "Usually, no…it is I who needs to be protected from him. But at other times, yes, because sometimes that man needs a good dose of common sense…and I, unfortunately, seem to be doomed to force it down his throat."

Father Michel relaxed a bit and sighed. Obviously, this man does know Erik fairly well. "Common sense…yes, that is true at times. Well, then…I apologize for my behavior. Won't you please come in, Monsieur…"

"You may call me Daroga. I am accustomed to it, and it is the title by which Erik addresses me."

"Daroga?" Father Michel questioned him curiously.

"Yes…it was my title in my native land…I was a chief of police."

"Ah, I see. Well, then, Daroga, would you care for a cup of tea?"

The Persian held up a hand. "No, no thank you. I just wondered if I might speak with you…about the wedding this evening."

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Erik woke with a start, suddenly remembering an important detail that he had forgotten. He bolted from the settee, glancing at the clock. Just enough time to do what I need to do…but I shall have to take my suit to the church and dress there if I am to arrive on time. He quickly gathered his things together, running down a mental checklist of every piece of clothing he needed. He left the items lying on the settee as he threw on his cloak and half-jogged to the main house. Fetching a carriage and driver, he rode back to the guest house and retrieved his clothing, along with a large sum of money. Surely it will be more than enough, he surmised.

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"Christine!" Madame Giry knocked gently on the bedroom door. "My dear, it's time to wake up. We need to leave soon."

Christine stretched and yawned, feeling as though she had barely been asleep, even though she was refreshed. Suddenly, she realized that she had forgotten to hem her gown. "Oh, no!" She jumped from the bed and threw open the door, startling Meg in the hallway.

"Christine, what's wrong?" Meg asked, alarmed.

"Oh, Meg, I'm so foolish!" she cried, in a panic. "I've gone and taken a nap, and I've forgotten to hem my gown!"

"Hmmm," Meg replied, furrowing her brow in deep thought. "Do you think that Madame Dubois would be able to hem it on her machine quickly if we went there now?"

Christine drew in a breath. "Meg! That just might work!" She walked briskly to the sitting room and lifted her gown from the settee, smoothing it out. "Madame, we have to go now…I need to ask Madame Dubois for a favor."

"Very well, my dear. Do you have your shoes, and cosmetics…and everything else that you will need?" Madame Giry inquired of her.

"Oh!" Christine cried, feeling very much in a tizzy.

"I'll get them, Christine. Just go and fetch a cab with Maman," Meg said, patting Christine's arm gently to calm her. "I'll be right down."

Christine followed Madame Giry from the apartment and Meg quickly gathered Christine's things. Nearing the door, she stopped suddenly, remembering that she needed her own dress to wear. She walked briskly to her bedroom and threw open her wardrobe, selecting a lovely frock that she had once worn to a Bal Masque at the Opera. "This will have to do," she said resolutely, gathering her shoes and leaving the apartment, locking the door behind her.

The ladies would have ridden to the shop in complete silence if Meg had not found it to be so terribly awkward. She nervously prattled on and on, trying to take Christine's mind off of her nervousness, but she only served to heighten it. Christine did not have the heart to tell her. She smiled politely at Meg, all the while feeling as though she were about to vomit.

Finally, they arrived at the shop and Madame Dubois had Christine try on the dress so that she could pin it up to hem. The ladies smiled broadly when she walked out wearing it. Madame Dubois was the first to see her enter the room. "Oh, Mademoiselle Christine! You look lovely!"

Madame Giry turned around and smiled. "Yes, my dear, you look wonderful. Now, we must hurry! You don't want to keep Erik waiting."

"Erik?" Madame Dubois asked, trying to seem nonchalant. Christine knew, however, that she was attempting to glean any tidbits of information that she could from them.

"Yes. Erik," Christine answered abruptly. "That is my fiancé's name. Now, could we hurry, please? This dress must be ready within minutes if I am to make it to the church so that I can get ready!"

Madame Giry shushed her. "Now, Christine, we all know that you are nervous…but let's not be rude about it. I'm sure that Annette is doing the best she can."

Madame Dubois pinned up the hem and Christine rushed back to the dressing room to slip out of the gown. She handed it out the door to Meg, who passed it on to Madame Dubois while Christine dressed in her everyday attire again. When she exited the room, Meg smiled at her. "It's almost finished," she whispered. Christine was perspiring from all of the rushing around, not to mention from nerves. Her hands were cold and clammy, but the rest of her body felt entirely too warm.

At last, Madame Dubois announced that the gown was ready, and Christine thanked her politely. "I appreciate your help, Madame. I apologize for my behavior…I am just so terribly nervous tonight."

"I understand, dearie," the woman chuckled. "I am a married woman, you know…and if I recall correctly, I was completely unable to swallow a morsel of food on my wedding day!" She laughed and Christine forced herself to smile politely.

Waving goodbye to Madame Dubois, they entered the waiting cab outside the shop. They rode along for several minutes before the church was in view, and Meg reassuringly grasped Christine's hand. "Everything is going to be perfect, Christine. You'll see." She smiled sweetly at her, and Christine breathed deeply to calm herself as the cab pulled to a stop in front of its destination.

Father Michel greeted the women as they entered the church. "Right on time, I see! You may use the rooms upstairs," he remarked, pointing at the stairwell. "If you need me, I shall be in my study for a short while yet." He smiled at Christine and began to turn away when he suddenly remembered something and turned again to face her. "I nearly forgot, Mademoiselle Christine…will you be singing a song for the ceremony?"

Christine's eyes widened. "Is-is that sort of thing…allowed?"

"Why, of course!" the old priest smiled. "Well, here in my church it is. The way I see it, this is your special day, and you should have a part in the way it unfolds. So, what do you say?"

"I believe…" she blushed. "I believe that Erik would like that. But…you have no organist, Father, save Erik. Am I to sing a cappella?"

He sighed. "Yes. But to be truthful, your voice needs no accompaniment, Mademoiselle. I will call on you during the ceremony and you can sing at that time. Does that suit you?" He smiled at her gently, his eyes sparkling.

"That will be fine…but, Father…if I should become too emotional or nervous to sing, I will trust you to simply move on with the ceremony.,please!" she laughed. "Is that alright with you?"

"Of course. Do you wish to have a wedding Mass also, or a simple ceremony?"

"I am certain that Erik would prefer a shorter ceremony, if you don't mind." she laughed nervously.

He nodded. "Ah, well, I figured as much. That will be fine. You should probably get ready now…Erik will be here soon, and you don't want him to see you before you come down the aisle!"

Christine gasped. "The aisle! I…I have no one to give me away. Am I to walk down the aisle alone?" Her lip trembled slightly, wishing that her beloved father were there to give her away.

"You can if you'd like, but you could also have a friend or family member escort you," Father Michel suggested.

Christine turned to face her foster mother. "Madame, would…would you give me away? You have been like a mother to me, and you are the nearest thing I have to family."

Madame Giry's eyes began to fill with tears. "Of course, my dear…I would be so very honored."

"Well, very good, then. Now off you go!" Father Michel said, ushering the women from the sanctuary as quickly as they would go. Christine suddenly turned to face him, surprising him a bit. "Oh! Father, I almost forgot…would you please give this to Erik and ask him to wear it? Please don't tell him that it was from me," she smiled secretively at him, handing him a red rose bouttoniére. He nodded in understanding and shooed them out at last, mere moments before Erik arrived, carrying his belongings with him.

"Father," he smiled, slightly out of breath. "Has my blushing bride arrived yet?"

The old priest tried to remain stoic, hiding the bouttoniére behind his back. "That, my son, should remain a mystery for now."

Erik laughed. "Apparently, she has."

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A/N: Happy New Year! Thank you to everyone for your kind reviews! I am trying to write as quickly as I can, but I want to make certain that there are no holes in my plot, or huge unanswered questions. Those are just the worst!LOL! Thanks for reading, and please review, everyone!