Chapter seven- Bosherville

They finished crying after what felt like several hours, they cried until the sun went down and when Christine finally settled in Erik's arms they were both worn out. She felt the fabric of his soaked shirt and then smiled when he pulled it off and allowed her to burrow against his chest. He felt it when she started to fall asleep and tightened her arms around his abdomen. Sunlight pierced their darkened oasis and warmed the little cottage and pierced the darkness keeping them in their dreams.

He was the first to wake the next morning, groaning with the ache of his cold-stiffened muscles. The rain had seeped into his bones and caused Erik tried flexing his muscles and groaned when they cracked and popped painfully, finding a pressure on his chest making it impossible to move. Still Erik found he could not complain, the bed was soft and he felt so wonderfully warm and safe that he didn't really want to move anyway. He heard a soft moan and some mumbled gibberish and then the sound of snores coming from his chest. Erik smiled for what felt like the first time in well-ever- when he saw that Christine was sleeping on him like a baby.

Erik looked down at his drowsing lover, her naked body glowing in the morning sun, it was covered in the residue of his love making marking her body with little love bites. She rolled over on the bed, stirring from her rest. Christine smiled a little and looked at him sleepily. She leaned over and kissed him just like a newlywed couple would do and he rose from the bed to dress. Christine smiled at him and he walked over to him as he turned to look at her the raindrop of his eyes gleamed with a possessive look as he stared at her nakedness. She blushed at him and he went to her to gather her dress to hand it to her.

But instead he returned with a brown box and gestured for her to open it, she did so and froze. Inside was a wedding dress, obviously hand-made and painstakingly kept in order till she returned if ever that was. A part of her was in awe at the beauty of the gown, but a larger part of her heart was breaking at the thought behind it. The gown looked as though it had taken some time to make as though he had started it as soon as she left him. Her heart ached at the image of him sitting here in this secluded woodland cottage sewing a dress for her and humming all the love songs he had written for her that she would never sing.

Christine felt tears welling up at her tutor's hopefulness and cursed herself, knowing that he would have waited for her and knowing that she almost married someone else. She pushed him out of her mind, she was with Erik now…he was her suitor now not Raoul. What she would have done no longer mattered and she went forward to kiss him on the lips. Christine looked down at the dress again and as usual was awed by the thing.

"Where did you—"she started.

"I have an unbelievable memory my dearest; it was not hard to make you another one." He said smoothly.

"But… why…" She asked. "I was going to marry Raoul…"

Erik winced visibly, "I know but I just thought…that if I waited for you long enough…"

His eyes welled up and he felt himself tearing before he could stop it and inwardly cursed his heart for loving her so much. Christine went to him and wiped at his tears with gentle fingers, setting the dress back down on the bed, she framed his malformed face in her hands and kissed both his cheeks. Erik felt like an idiot to be just standing there at her mercy but knew there was nothing he could do about it, so rather than fight the emotions bottling up inside him for so long he let go. He cried, he cried long and hard, letting her see him in his most vulnerable state.

She said nothing, simply held onto him with her hands pressing gently into the back of his head. His tears soaked through her shoulder and chilled her skin. Her hands framed his malformed head and she rocked back and forth very slowly making shushing and tisking sounds. Erik finished crying on her after what felt like hours and when she finally pulled away his eyes were red and swollen but ardent with the purest love she had ever seen in her life. She kissed his mouth for a long moment and then turned her attention to the gown he had given her.

Christine had to smile as she shook her head fingering the fabric, "It's beautiful."

Indeed it was; it looked as if it had been fathomed out of the purest snow and was a soft as silk. The lace in the backing was in the pattern of roses entwining on vines made of an almost translucent silver satin. The hem traced in lace as intricate as though he had sewn real snowflakes onto the edges when they were in fact simply crystals sewn on painstakingly and gleaming in the new morning sun. Erik, ever the gentleman, beckoned that she might don it and turned away to give her privacy despite having seen her naked many times already. She put it on as he dropped to his knees and kissed both her hands one at a time.

"Let's get married." He said.

She stared at him snapped out of her thoughts as she watched him donning an open-necked shirt. Christine blushed as she remembered his muscular chest rippling against her as their passions flamed. Erik, on the other hand was not thinking of that for he looked at her with those hopeful eyes. It took her a moment to remember what he had said and then it hit her full force and she stammered a response.

"Now?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, "Don't you want to marry me?"

Christine blinked at the question, not sure how to answer him. Did she want to marry him? Yes, of course she did. But the thought of being married to him was just so…odd, odd and completely, completely wonderful. But saying yes was not enough for Erik and it was certainly not enough for her. She wanted them to be together in their souls, wanted their very souls to be bonded together but since that was physically impossible, marriage would have to do. So she nodded and kissed him as a response, Erik got the message.

Erik nodded and she blinked as he pulled her to him, and kissed her like she was the only source of oxygen. His tongue drove itself into her mouth and she groaned in unison with him. She had never known Erik to be such a forward and aggressive man and a part of her was frightened by it. But a small part of her was thrilled by it, that she commanded this man's passion so easily. Erik picked her up and then slowly walked her over to the door where César stood neighing peacefully as he chewed on some grass. He set her behind him and then Erik with a gruff 'ya' they went riding off into the sunrise.

The two sat in silence for a while, Christine's arms wrapped securely around his waist as they forest disappeared behind them. Day began to darken to night again, stars wielding above them and the moon as bright as a pearl in the endless ebony sky. It was indeed a beautiful night and the only sound was the clip-clop, clip-clop of the horse's hooves and Erik's breathing. It made her sleepy but she knew better than to doze off on the back of a horse lest she fall off. So they rode on and on till they saw something on the horizon.

Her body ached from the bumping of the horse and she wanted to get off. Her muscles were stiff and the dust in her eyes burned. Erik at last pulled horse to the side where a little inn stood and Christine all but toppled over to the ground, grateful that Erik was there to catch her and carry her in. He very gently set her on her feet so that she stumbled rather unceremoniously onto a chair and laid her head on the table, passing out. Erik turned around hearing her snoring fill the room. Older women were giving her sympathetic looks and older men were making tisking sounds.

People seemed to recognize him from the olden days and there were whispers of 'the thing is back'. Christine could hear them but she just didn't have the energy to glare at them, had she at the moment she would have glared at them and then some. She would have held her head up high and grabbed Erik down for a kiss. She would have kissed him so hard that he would have fallen back in his chair and then told him that she loved him. Christine would have made love to him right there and proved to those snobbish onlookers that what she and Erik had was true love and dared them to challenge her. But right now she was just too tired and was soon snoring loudly onto the wooden table, Erik's arms keeping her warm as she snuggled him.

He lifted her up gently ignoring the murmurs of disapproval from the other patrons as they noted him carrying her off. Erik walked slowly, careful not to jostle her into the shabby room that he had rented and laid her down on the bed where she rolled over and continued her sleep. Erik saw bruising in between her legs from being in the saddle too long and felt a pang of remorse. He went over to the sink and mixed up a solution of warm soapy water to wash her bruises with gently soothing fingers. Erik went to the bed and moved her skirt up around her waist and used a rag to soothe the sore spots. Christine slept through it and when she woke Erik was lying beside her, wide-awake. His eyes were rimmed in darkness and looked like a couple of cherries, deeply set and hooded with fatigue, she wanted him to rest and so she laid him down on the bed but he, being the stubborn man he was got back up.

It was dark outside and when she looked at the bedside clock it read ten thirty in the evening. Her body was chilled by the night breeze and she pulled the coverlet off the bed to wrap it around herself. She watched Erik for a moment as he gathered random things about the room and pulling on his suit-jacket. Christine shook her head as she realized that she was slowly picking up Erik's nocturnal habits as she reminded herself that she hated the dark. She really didn't want to go out at that moment but Erik was already heading toward the door so she grabbed his arm and he turned to her with a question in his eyes.

"Erik we don't need to rush, you are ill."

"No Christine I wish to be married to you as soon as possible." He said.

Christine framed his face in her hand, "but when I got to the cottage you were so sick, I really think you need your rest. I'll be here when you're well."

Erik looked at her with more emotion than she had imagined him capable of, "Oh Christine…" he murmured, his voice raw with untapped emotion, "I was only ill when you were gone…I was dying of love."

"That's madness," she said laughing a little, "Love cannot kill."

Erik sighed and walked to her, placing his hands on her face to make her look at him. The look in his eyes silenced her laughter and made her want to cry. It was a serious look made for penetrating the souls of anyone he looked at. He spoke then softly with a deep graveness to his voice that belied any notions of silliness she thought he had implied. He didn't say anything for several moments, just looked at her and then when she could no longer stand it she kissed him.

"I know, I know it sounds foolish." He said "Love cannot kill but the absence of it can." He said.

"I don't understand…" she replied.

"I just can't live without you… my broken heart was killing me. But now that you're here I have no reason to be ill…"

"I don't know whether to find that romantic or sad. "she said and kissed his mouth.

Erik responded for a long moment but kept his tongue out of her mouth because he knew where that might lead, finally he said, "ah my dear it is true, love can heal and love can kill."

Christine was still puzzled by this idea but she had long since ceased attempting to figure out Erik's mind. She supposed that he was referring to what he called was a psychosomatic illness and that he had never really been sick. So she took his proffered hand and followed him just like that first night in the opera house. He led her outside to an open stretch of town as gorgeous as a portrait. It seemed that the sky went on forever and she looked down in awe at the beauty of the night. So, this is what Erik meant by the hidden beauty of the night, a world shrouded in darkness and secrets, it was a world meant for romance and intimacy.

Then she noticed the appearance of a small village before them, smoke rising from the chimneys and everything. It looked like the sort of place Papa had told her about when she was a child straight out of one of his books. Erik sighed as if pained and swung down from his horse to help her. She had fallen asleep on his back despite herself, the long ride tiresome and draining. She groaned softly and did not look too thrilled to be woken up but made no fuss. Instead she looked around the place and shivered, grabbing his hand in hers.

"Where are we?" she asked, having never liked being in new places.

"Bosherville "replied Erik in obvious distaste.

Christine would have pointed out that she saw nothing wrong with the place but the look on his face silenced her. She slipped her fingers through his and let him walk her slowly down a row of old rickety buildings that all looked the same. They walked for a while in silence, hand in hand watching the moon rise and stars peek out from the satiny ink of the sky. It was a beautiful sight and when they reached the final house on the street Christine read the mailbox and in a rust-covered cursive was, 'Father Mansart.' Erik reached up and knocked on the door three times and an old voice, gravelly with age mumbled something about coming, coming.

It was then that she heard something along the lines of ' who could be ringing at this time of evening 'and whoever had woken him better have a good reason for this and so on. It caused Christine to giggle out loud and even Erik smirked. The door creaked open and an old man, looking to be nearly ancient appeared in the doorframe. He had a well-aged face and worry lines as well as ones of laughter and his blue eyes gleamed with tiredness and irritation. He spoke up, his aged voice sounding surprised.

"My child, "he said to the shadows as he put thick spectacles over the edge of his nose, "what brings you to an old man's home at this hour?" he asked and Erik stepped forward.

"Forgive us for disturbing your rest father Mansart." He said, and the old man's eyes bulged.

"Erik?" he gasped, "Erik nodded, "Saints be praised lad, what are you doing here?"

"I have come to ask for a favor, me and my fiancé wish to be married." He said.

The Father looked at him, "fiancé?" he echoed, "Well of course, I'd love to marry you but who's the bride?"

Erik pulled Christine forward and the old man's eyes filled with tears and he embraced her with more strength than anyone would have suspected of a man his age. He kissed both her cheeks and her hands one at a time. Tears leaked from his aging eyes and he had the most joyous smile on his face as he hugged Erik and cried all over his shoulder (Erik was considerably taller than him) and pulled them inside. Christine looked puzzled as the man stood before them and looked at Erik and her.

"Aren't you engaged to someone else Miss Daaë?" he asked recognizing her after a moment.

Christine shook her head and grabbed Erik's hand in hers tightly. Erik simply smiled down at her and kissed her head with all the love he had in him. The father was curious but did not press them, obviously

"In all my 86 years," he said, "I never thought I would see the day Erik came to me asking me to marry him to a beautiful woman. Ah, but it's been 25 years since I'd seen the boy."

"Why?" Christine asked.

"Erik's life was not kind to him his mother was… cruel." Father Mansart said with a shake of his saggy head.

Christine could feel Erik tensing and she leaned on him gently kissing his cheek. "That my dear," Erik interjected, "is for another time, it is a sad story and certainly not one for a wedding day." He gave the father a serious look to prove his point.

"Ah yes," The old man agreed, "Shall we get on with it then…follow me…"