Author's note: Thanks for the loads of reviews I received! I also got two guesses, which I've already written down. Oh, and here's the answer to a question someone asked me: The person or persons responsible for the attacks has or have been mentioned in the story.

Chapter One Hundred and One

September 17th 1892: Erik

I held my breath while I waited for her reply. I couldn't blame her for being startled by my sudden appearance and taking time with the answering. It was possible that I had had the same confused expression on my face when I had stood at the door to the living room, eager to tell Christine what I had found out. Yet in the end her revelations had been much more interesting than mine could have ever been.

I had never been one to waste a good chance, and this chance had been very good. So I had proposed to a married woman. Other people would have thought me insane. But then, they already did that, without knowing what I had just done. Moreover, Christine was no longer a married woman in my eyes. By taking off her wedding ring I had interrupted her marriage. If she accepted my proposal, she'd be my wife. If she accepted it…

The seconds stretched till each of them resembled a small eternity. The fingers that were holding the ring started shaking slightly as I grew more and more nervous. Why didn't she say something? Was it so difficult? She just had to say one word: yes. She had told her friend that she agreed with her plan, so it was clear that she'd say yes… or wasn't it?

At last she cleared her throat.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I want to be your wife, Erik. I'm sorry that I didn't say it sooner, but I… I had certain problems with my throat… I couldn't get a word out…"

"That doesn't matter now, my love," I told her. "All that matters is that you said yes." I knew those problems with the throat only too well, for I suffered from them myself. There was a big lump in my throat, which only dissolved when a steady trickle of tears began to make its way down my cheeks.

Christine was crying as well, but for once that sight didn't break my heart, for those were tears of happiness. I reached up and wiped them off with my handkerchief. It was a little awkward because I had to do it with my right hand, but I didn't want to let go of the ring. She smiled down at me gratefully, and her smile was so bright that it made my heart swell with joy. All I wanted to do now was kiss her. I straightened up and –

"Excuse me." The voice of Meg Giry made me stop. But wait – she had a different name now. It was no longer Giry, but… Tavoire. During the last moments I had quite forgotten that anyone but my beloved and me existed in the world, so why was I thinking about her friend's name? I tried to glare at the young woman, but couldn't do it. I was too happy to be angry at her. "I didn't want to interrupt you, but I've been to a lot of weddings, and I know for a fact that the ring comes before the kissing," she went on. "Even though nothing else is ordinary about this union, you can at least do things in the right order."

I nodded. Briefly I used the handkerchief for my own face, so that I could see clearly again. Then I slipped the ring onto Christine's finger.

"Perfect," I breathed. "Just perfect." At last, after more than ten years, the ring was at its right place again. I held my hand next to hers, and we looked at the two rings. Yes, it was indeed perfect.

Now that the formal part was over, nothing could keep me from kissing her. I stood up quickly and pulled her to her feet as well. Wrapping my arms around her I brought my lips to hers. It was exactly how our first kiss should have been. There was no fear or pity on her side, and no anxiety or helplessness on mine. Just like the ring, it was perfect.

The kiss lasted for a long time. It was as if we just couldn't get away from each other. And without even speaking about it, we knew that our letters were forgotten. We wouldn't stay away from each other, neither at day nor at night. And even though we'd still have to be careful about how much affection to show in public, it was clear that we wouldn't be as cold as Christine had tried to be this morning.

After a while we managed to stop kissing. Hearing Mme.Tavoire blow her nose, I turned around.

"This is so romantic," she sighed, stuffing her handkerchief back into the pocket of her skirt.

"I hope you know that if you ever tell someone you've seen me cry, I'd have to kill you… for the sake of my reputation," I muttered.

"I'll bear that in mind," she promised me, but the smile didn't leave her face. I couldn't tell whether she took my threat seriously. At the moment I couldn't even tell whether I took my threat seriously. There was no space left in my head to think about murder.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked enthusiastically. After the events of the last minutes I felt as if I could manage any task.

"Well, usually there would be a celebration now," Meg informed me. "But in your case I guess you'll have to be content with a simple lunch. I wonder whether the cook is already in the kitchen. Maybe I should go to her and check what she's doing." It couldn't have been more obvious that she was looking for an excuse to get away, so that we'd have a little privacy. I liked her more with every moment. Maybe I should even start referring to her by her first name in the future. She got up from her seat and went to the door.

"There's a bag with meat on the little table in the corridor," I called after her. "You can give it to the cook. Tell her this time nothing is wrong with it." Meg nodded and left.

Looking at my beloved again I noticed a slight frown on her face.

"What is it, love?" I wanted to know softly. "Aren't you happy? Would you… would you have rather not done this? Do you this it was a mistake?" Merely uttering those questions hurt me. For once, I was happy and content with the world. So why couldn't it be the same for her?

"I am happy," she assured me, giving me a smile. "But I'm also confused. I can't understand why you agreed with all that. Didn't you say that you either wanted all of me or nothing?"

"That's true," I replied. "But I have all of you now… at least for a while. Maybe it was wrong to demand a whole lifetime at your side. I wouldn't be able to cope with so much happiness. I barely know how to cope with the amount of it I'm experiencing at the moment."

"You'll get used to it," she said gently. "After a little while you'll hardly remember what's so special about it."

"Never," I told her firmly. "I'll never forget the overwhelming joy of this moment, and of those to follow it. I asked for being treated as your husband in this house, and now I truly am your husband. It's unbelievable."

"Oh, tonight you'll start believing it," she whispered, her cheeks growing rosy. Noticing that she was no longer looking into my eyes I realised what she was referring to and began to feel very warm myself.

"You mean tonight we'll…?" I couldn't bring myself to saying it. What if I hadn't understood her correctly?

She nodded.

"Tonight will be our wedding night," she muttered. "We'll do everything a bride and groom do in that night… unless you don't want to, that is."

"Of course I want to," I said quickly, before she could change her mind. "But do you want it as well? Or do you just think it's your duty as my wife?"

"I want it," she answered simply, placing my hands on her waist.

The next minutes passed in a mixture of kisses and caresses that could only be discribed as very pleasant. It definitely served to whet my appetite for the night. Our wedding night… it almost sounded too good ot be true.

We only stopped when we heard a murmur of voices in the corridor, growing louder slowly. I recognised Philippe's and Meg's voices as well as the cook's.

"We should better go to them, before they come in here to look for us," I suggested half-heartedly.

Christine gave a sound of protest and disappointment, but nodded reluctantly a moment later.

"How will we behave in front of the others?" she asked.

"We won't do anything differently," I replied. "For the others, we'll still be nothing but friends."

"But we know better," she whispered, holding her hand next to mine once more. It seemed that, just like myself, she couldn't get enough of the sight.

"It's good that my ring almost looks like the Vicomte's, or you'd have to take it off," I remarked. And it was true, the rings were nearly identical. Mine was made of a shinier material, yet unless someone looked very closely, the difference would never be spotted. Christine pocketed the other ring cautiously, and we left the room hand in hand… as husband and wife.