Arm in arm they walked all the way back to the inn, arriving just as the sun was setting over the horizon. Christine begged a respite in her room for the opportunity to change her clothing and shoes and to freshen up. Marie had already seen to delivering their packages to their rooms, both from the carriage and the shop's courier. A pile of boxes and wrappings lay at the foot of the bed. Erik dropped down onto the bed, kicking off his boots as he stretched out, letting them fall to the floor with a dull thud. He pulled off his mask, rubbing his face over and feeling the scratchy stubble starting to grow around his chin. He would have to shave. Luckily he was not one who had to do it often, but he nicked himself just about every time as the blade swept up his cheek to a small ridge of scarring that stood out more than other places.
He rose and replaced his mask and rang for some hot water to be brought to his room, and then got out his razor and shaving kit. Usually he did not make use of a mirror to shave, hating his appearance; however he felt the need to take more care with his toilette now, mask or no. When the maid knocked and brought in the pitcher of steaming water and hot towels, Erik was perusing his purchases. He had told Christine to dress nicely for dinner in her new gown. He got out his fine evening jacket and silk shirt with the silver buttons. He next reached for a round box and slowly lifted the lid off. He had never once owned a top hat. It was rather difficult for him to wear one and still maintain his anonymity, but on a whim he had purchased one this afternoon as he and Christine were parading through town. He placed it on his head experimentally. It would take some getting used to he thought to himself, and placed it back inside the hat box.
He was very relieved to find his flesh toned mask was finally dry enough after the drenching it got in the rain and the cleaning afterward to wear again. He donned the mask, and put his other more noticeable white mask away in his suitcase. He checked his appearance in the mirror looking up and down his person. If it were not for the mask, he would consider himself handsome. The tailor was very precise with his measurements indeed. The suit was cut to perfectly hug his body. The material and stitching were of the finest quality. His money had been put to good use after all. He straightened the pin that held his cravat and removed his hat until he was ready to leave the house, then headed out to the main room to await his beloved.
As he walked down the hallway, he became aware of a din coming from the dining room. Several loud and bawdy voices laughed noisily from behinds the two doors and he could hear the dishware being slammed about on the wooden tables. The serving girl exited the doors, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. Difficult customers no doubt, Erik thought to himself as he took a chair by the fire. Moments later, Marie came through the room, noticed Erik then motioned him over to the far corner.
"Monsieur Durand," Marie began, sounding flustered. "You and Christine might want to take care. I've had some rather rude guests come to stay a few nights here, but as you can hear by the commotion in the kitchen, I might just have to kick them out. Hopefully I won't be forced to call the gendarmes to have them removed, but if their sober behavior is anything to judge by, I'd hate to see them later tonight after they've tossed back a few." She wrung her hands together agitatedly.
"I understand Mme. Beauchamp. Thank you for the warning," Erik replied.
She looked him over with an approving eye, "You look very well this evening."
"Thank you," He said.
She winked at him, then with an exasperated sigh, turned towards the dining room to deal with her guests.
Erik waited a short while longer, feeling the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering as he thought of Christine and their present circumstance. He still could not believe he was actually courting her. Her gentle touches on his arm and hand today were not lost on him. He recalled the sensations vividly. He could still feel the warmth of her hand pressed into his own and the feeling of her body held against his own as he embraced her in the restaurant.
He was lost in these thoughts when Christine came down the stairs.
Erik was at a loss for words. The seamstress had been dead right about her dress. He had to consciously close his jaw as he quickly stood to greet her, holding his hat in his quavering hands. Christine descended the stairs, her hand trailing lightly along the rail in long satin gloves. Erik's eyes followed the buttons up the back of her hand, to her exposed elbows, to the ruffled collar of the dress that fell across her breastbone revealing the small hollow at her neck where the necklace he had given her rested against cool pale skin. Beading rustled against the satin train as it trailed behind her slightly on the stairs. Christine's hair was pinned up behind her head with a silver comb and her dark eyes sparkled in the lamplight as she looked down to where he waited.
"Good evening, Erik," she said softly.
Erik finally found the words, "Good evening," but they only came out as a whisper. He knew not a man alive could resist such a creature, and here she was, reaching for his hand. He took it, gently kissing her glove, smelling the perfume on her wrist. She was intoxicating.
He donned his hat then moved behind her to help her into her new velvet lined cloak. He let his fingers trace the flesh at her collar as he did the clasp, secretly breathing the scent of her hair as he did. Gently taking her arm through his, he led them out the door to the waiting carriage. After ordering the driver to take them to the nicest restaurant in town, he took the seat next to her this time, keeping his hands on his hat in his lap. He did not dare leave them free to wander, for now he was allowed simple touch between them, he knew he would not be able to control himself.
'Slow,' he breathed to himself, 'I must take this slowly.' The rocking of the carriage gave him something else to concentrate on. Christine's scent filled the air of the cab, making it nearly impossible to breathe without wanting to envelop her into his arms and kiss her.
Christine wished she wore a mask as they sat together in the dimly lit cab of the carriage. She was sure Erik could see her blushing. She tried desperately to still the beating of her heart and thought she would die of asphyxiation between the tightness of her corset and her attempts to keep her breaths quiet. The way Erik had looked at her as she walked down the stairs made her nearly faint. She knew how she looked to herself in the mirror before she came down, but seeing how Erik regarded her told her how she truly appeared to him. Although naïve in the subject of the bedroom, a part of her knew that had they been alone, they might never have left the Inn that evening. For the first time in days since the unexpected events of the storm and the awkward moments of tension they had shared, she could once again feel the intensity of his desire for her. It was maddening. She felt so completely anxious, not knowing when he might boldly attempt something else to push the boundaries of their relationship. Had she truly been venturesome, she would attempt something herself, but she was really still afraid of the unknown and had no idea how to approach him.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His new clothing was becoming and truly suited him. This was the first time she had seen him without a hood covering his head out in public. His dark hair curled slightly around the base of his neck underneath the tiny strap of his mask. She found herself wishing she could run her fingers through it without the barrier of gloves.
The carriage wound around the streets of town, past the lit lamps and small apartment houses with firelight flickering in the windows. Sounds of children playing and a dog barking made its way to them as they passed through a small residential part of town. The horses strained to pull the carriage up the small hill to a brick building with large front windows and gas lamps burning next to the front door. The driver pulled his team around and stepped down to open the door for them to exit.
Erik stepped out first then helped Christine down. He gave the man the coins and asked if he wouldn't stay for the evening. He seemed grateful for once again gaining Erik's services and gratuity and drove the carriage behind the building to wait out the night. Erik took Christine on his arm and led them inside.
'Just keep acting,' he reminded himself. He took a deep breath and continued.
He took on the most pompous attitude he though possible as they passed the doorman. A younger couple stood just in front of them, speaking to the maître d'. The young lady turned behind to see them, smiled at Christine then noticed Erik. She wavered a moment, struck by his bearing, then turned back to her partner, her head itching for a second look. She seemed to notice his mask only secondarily.
Erik stepped forward as the younger couple was led into the dining room. He heard music being played in the next room as the doors parted. The host was taken aback by Erik's mask, as he removed his hat and coat for the doorman to take.
"Er," he stammered, "How do you do? My name is M. Renald and I welcome you to Le Manoir D' Archelles," he managed to say after a moment of confusion.
Erik did his best to take on the persona he imagined Raoul having; nonchalant and arrogant. "We would like the best table in the house, preferably near a window."
"Certainly sir," Monsieur Renald replied. He figured this rich gentleman must be playing at his own masquerade. He had seen more abnormal behavior before. "Fernand will show you to your table." He snapped his fingers to a young man waiting nearby. Fernand went pale, but then visibly shrugged his shoulders to himself as he dismissed Erik's eccentricity and led them to a table in the corner of the room adjacent to the small raised platform where the musicians played their instruments softly.
Fernand was about to pull out Christine's chair, but Erik gave him a dismissal and moved to do it himself. Despite his courage in showing his mask so openly, he could not help but choose the chair that faced mostly away from the rest of the room. He did this not only to prevent scrutiny on his own person, but to give the limelight to Christine who so richly deserved the attention tonight. She sat framed with the window at her back, a potted floral arrangement stood on a pedestal at her corner and the moon winked between clouds beyond her. He knew that from the vantage of most of the room, they would appear a normal couple enjoying a meal. The sting quartet played softly enough to be enjoyable but not distracting.
"Christine, you look absolutely stunning tonight," Erik began. He felt a complete fool for not complimenting her earlier. The words did not seem appropriate enough to describe how delectably beautiful and innocent and tempting she appeared. He felt a hunger that had nothing at all to do with his appetite.
"Thank you Erik," Christine said as she blushed. "You look very handsome tonight. I must say I prefer your choice of apparel tonight to your usual heavy hood."
"Well, as you put it this afternoon, if I act arrogant enough, perhaps people will be less likely to offend."
Christine agreed with an incline of her head.
The waiter came over and introduced himself then began rattling off a list of the dinner specialties. Erik paid no attention. His focus could not be broken from Christine. She sat listening to the stream of choices issuing from the waiter with her hands folded politely in her lap.
"Erik, what would you like?" she said. He had not heard a single word.
To save himself he replied, "I'll have what you're ordering."
She ordered the roast pheasant and the chilled pumpkin soup to start. Erik thought to himself he probably wouldn't touch the soup, but the pheasant sounded delicious. Erik also ordered a bottle of the best wine in the house to be brought to the table.
Christine fingered her napkin and started arranging her silverware. 'Why am I so nervous,' she wondered. She had been to dinner with Erik a few times before, but this time felt so different. Perhaps it was the fancy clothing, or the rich atmosphere. She couldn't put her finger on it, but then it dawned on her. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to focus on her surroundings and everything around her excluding Erik's mask. Aside from the small detail of that tanned leather covering his skin, she felt as though she were the mistress of a very wealthy patron; something most of her friends in the ballet corps only dreamed about. She nearly had that with Raoul, but for whatever reason, she resisted that connection to him. Although he was familiar to her, it felt too brotherly and despite the status it would have driven her to, she felt she did not fit into his world. Being here with Erik in this way came with the entire honorarium but none of the social pressure as there was with Raoul's friends.
"Christine?" Erik queried. "You seem to be quiet. Is anything the matter?"
"No, Erik," she replied a little withdrawn. "I was just thinking and enjoying the evening with you. I really cannot express my gratitude for all you do for me."
"If it is within my power to make you happy then I will do anything. But I must profess I believe you have done more for me, than I for you. If it were not for you, I would still be alone and recluse living in the cellar of the Opera. Instead here I sit with you in a very public place, dining as any another couple would." He paused, curious, "What were you thinking about?"
Christine was reluctant to mention Raoul; she did not wish to spoil Erik's mood tonight. "I was just thinking how happy I am to have met you. I feel I can be myself around you without the need to put on airs."
The waiter returned with the bottle of wine, held it out for Erik to inspect then poured a tasting into a glass. After swishing it around in his mouth, Erik nodded for him to pour a glass for Christine. Another man came by with their soup in quick succession.
Christine took advantage of the distraction of the food to calm the jitters she was feeling when she looked across the table at Erik. After the previous evening's nervous apprehension, then her impassioned mistake of Erik's little surprise, she was shocked to find herself just as nervous this evening as she was in times before. She thought surely this should be more anticlimactic simply courting instead of a rush to engagement. However, she felt different tonight. Today had literally been night and day. By day Erik was reserved and careful, but by night, he was another creature entirely. Under the cloak of darkness, he always seemed more powerful and formidable. Now, stripped of his usual protections of disguise and heavy clothing, he radiated ascendancy. She knew he must be acting, as she was this afternoon, but unlike her, he had had years of practice, however seldom he used it. Although the truth was far from it; Erik seemed to be forgetting the presence of other people when he was around her. She hardly noticed anyone else in the room aside from him either.
They chatted about the opera and other inconsequential things while they ate their other courses of the meal. The wine in their glasses seemed to magically refill themselves, as intent as they were in each other's attention and not on the serving staff. Christine realized they had drunk more than one bottle of wine when the flavor suddenly changed to something more open bodied and sweet. She felt her ears warming and her face flush with the alcohol.
Although far from being drunk, she was very relaxed and felt bold enough to propose a request to Erik that had been itching at her since they arrived, "Erik," she began, "will you dance with me?"
Erik nearly dropped his fork on the edge of his plate. He thought about it for a moment then replied, "I don't think so, Christine."
Christine lowered her head, disappointed. Wasn't that what couple's did after dinner? She had danced with friends at the Opera at the company parties, but had never had a single dance partner to call her own.
"Do you not know how?" Christine asked.
"No Christine. I can dance, but this evening has gone so wonderfully I do not wish to embarrass you with everyone staring at me," Erik replied honestly.
"Please, Erik, just one dance. If the other's make us uncomfortable I swear we can leave immediately after," she pointed out. "Look, there are four other couples dancing already and the lights are rather dim in the middle of the room. Perhaps they won't even notice."
Erik hesitated, then bowed his head to her and stood offering his hand to lead her to the floor. Christine gladly accepted it and did her best to ignore everyone else in the room. Surely there would be some scandalous gossip tonight after they departed.
The space set aside for dancing was not very large, but it could accommodate a few couples in a waltz at a time. Erik stayed close to the outer edge of the floor and took Christine's small frame into his grasp. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and felt his hand wrap around her waist slightly more than was appropriate. She was not about to complain. Erik at least kept a respectable distance between their bodies as he swept her up into a simple waltz in time with the music.
Christine's dancer's feet stepped lightly in time with the music, focusing on the way Erik's body moved in perfect synchronization with hers. She caught a glimpse of another older woman dancing who made a disgusted face at seeing Erik's mask as they twirled around. The next time they passed the couple she gave her a dirty look back and gripped Erik's hand tighter. She stepped closer to his body thinking 'I'll give her something to be disgusted about'. Christine heard Erik's gasp as she did so and tried to separate them a little further, but she held him tight with her satin gloved fingers gripping his shoulder like a vise. She marveled in his grace and fluidity and wondered where he had learned to dance so well; She would have to ask him later about it.
The music ended and there was a thin patter of clapping that came from the dining room and the others on the dance floor. Erik relinquished his hold on her waist, but did not let go of her. They stood together, hands clasped between them, looking into each other's eyes.
"We should probably go," Erik said softly. He suddenly wanted to be away from prying eyes with her.
Christine agreed with an inclination of her head towards their table. They gathered up her small purse and asked the waiter to retrieve their cloaks while Erik settled the bill. M. Renald seemed all too happy that they were leaving, but could not be so pompous when Erik paid the bill twice over.
Christine's eyes went wide as she saw the amount of money he slipped into waiting hands. As they exited and the doorman called to have their cab pulled around Christine queried, "Why so much?"
Erik replied, "I tend to have less trouble returning to a place I've enjoyed if I make it worth their while." He took Christine's cloak and once again placed it around her shoulders from behind. Erik impulsively stooped his head down to once again smell her hair and found he could not resist from placing a small kiss on her shoulder. It was so slight he doubted she felt it but nonetheless, he reeled at the scent of her perfume and the warmth of her skin through the fabric touching his lips. It burned there momentarily and he found he could not willingly remove his hand from her other shoulder. He took a chance and wrapped his arm around her to rest on her collarbone while his other hand came to embrace her waist.
Christine stood frozen to the spot, overwhelmed by the sensations she was feeling. Try as she might, she could not convince herself to argue the impropriety of their embrace. She was drunk with the pleasure derived from being held in his arms. She silently begged his lips to descend once more to the place where her shoulder and neck met, just as he had done in her dream, but just then, their carriage pulled around to the front. Erik's arms released her and he took her hand and led her into it.