Chapter 16

Christine wove a black ribbon she had retrieved from one of Erik's roses around the thickly gathered plait that fell from the nape of her neck to her waist and sat pinning a last wayward tendril of hair away from her face when she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Christine."

Erik's voice hovered behind the door as he called her name softly. She tugged the ribbon into a bow and then lifted her skirts, rushed to the door, and flung it open quickly to reveal the penetrating green eyes, chiseled jaw, and imposing presence of her handsome beloved. The delicate, sweet fragrance of freshly cut roses swelled around him and assailed his nostrils as soon as she swept open the door and her beauty commanded all else to disappear from the forefront of his mind when he gazed upon her. The metamorphosis from the day before of boyish imp into the beautiful, feminine woman who stood before him this morning stole his breath away.

A close-fitting silk and taffeta frock with tiny rosebuds scattered about that were broken by thin black stripes that ran through the fabric adorned her figure and matched the ribbon in her hair. Slim corkscrew tendrils of chestnut hair framed her face softly.

Erik placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly slid his hands down the silken skin of her arms while he stared into the limpid brown pools that returned his gaze questioningly. When he reached her hands he grasped then and held her arms wide and said with obvious pleasure, "You, my love, look stunning."

Her dimple jumped out and he heard the tinkle of her laughter. He dropped one of her hands and lifted the other to whirl her around under his arm while his eyes swept over her figure and then he wound her toward him so that she ended in his arms tightly against his chest. Her arms were folded between them and her face upturned to his. His eyes glittered playfully. She drew her palms over the slippery fabric of his waistcoat and encircled her arms about his neck, all the while staring at his sensuous mouth. The night before they had dropped into a sleep so deep and so fatiguing, each hardly knew the other was there and today they sorely missed the pleasure of the sometimes slow and gentle and other times feverish kissing, touching, and cradling that happened as a prelude to their slumber. It was a drug that both energized and soothed.

Especially for Christine, she felt empty and hollow without Erik's narcotic-like touch. He was not always aware of the tantalizing effect he had on her, which made its absence that much more alluring. But ensconced beguilingly in his arms and pressed hard against his body roused Christine's senses sharply. His inviting scent flooded her nostrils and his beauty captivated. His mask had long since vanished from her awareness and to her he had become nothing other than simply beautiful. She reflexively drew in her breath deeply and her head fell back while her eyes closed dreamily. He dropped a slow, heated kiss on her full, receptive lips and then suddenly drew away with his brow lifted and watched her warily.

"Christine, I sense that something is up." Remarkably, he did not know what. "My love?" he questioned.

She didn't answer. He pulled her against him to support her body fully and whispered beneath his breath "I'm not going to let you wear a corset anymore. At least not a tight one."

Swiftly her mind reconnected with its surroundings and she opened her eyes. "You've forgotten, my love, how very dangerous it is for me to dance in your arms," she said but she thought you've forgotten how easily you intoxicate me.

"No, I haven't forgotten," he continued, "Do you want to reconsider your 'yes'?"

"I'd rather die!"

"Well, that is serious!"

"But, I hope you don't mind dancing with a rag doll."

She looked askance at him and her mouth curled mischievously. He threw back his head and laughed; it startled her. She still wasn't used to hearing raucous laughter from him. She turned serious as she said "Erik, do you realize this isn't going to be my debut; it's going to be yours!"

A dark pall flashed through his mind and dampened his spirits and then left as quickly as it had come. "One could see it in that light, I suppose."

He lifted her chin and said "And it's all because of your precious, steadfast, devotion." Then his voice dropped to a whisper "Oh…my Christine."

Suddenly Juste peeked around the inside of the front door and Erik turned toward him as he called "Erik! The carriage is almost ready."

Erik turned back to Christine and said "Are you ready?"

"Yes. Is it far?"

"Not terribly, about an hour's ride." He left her side and went to her temporary wardrobe to collect her cloak. He came back with it and dropped it over her shoulders, smoothing its folds slowly with gentle hands. Suddenly she shivered.

"You are cold?"

"No. I'm afraid. Do you really have to find out the name of the man who wanted you dead?" He turned a serious countenance to hers.

"Yes, I want to know in what way he is tied to my past. If I can place him I may be able to asses whether there is any remaining danger. Especially to you."

"Why me?"

"Guilt by association." He clasped her hand and began to lead her to the door as Juste peeked in again and said "We're all set." He stopped a moment when he saw the concern that still rested within her eyes and touched her cheek with his finger tips while he said, "Never fear, my love, it is far better to know than to remain in darkness." She clasped his hand, "All right, I will trust you, then."

As they approached the carriage Juste waited at the door and the driver sat with the reins casually draped in his hands. The carriage was owned by the church, but Juste, because of his position as Musical Pastor used it for both personal and business reasons. Erik lifted Christine inside and then climbed in himself. Juste followed and closed the door. The carriage, while not as plush as Raoul's, was cozy and comfortable. The day was gloomy and cold and the fog drifted down from the clouds above, almost to the ground in some patches, obscuring the barren branches of the trees and turning the shrubbery into a blurry haze. The temperature of the air inside the carriage was no different than the air outside. Christine settled into the crook of Erik's arm. Absently he fingered the thick plait that fell in front of her shoulder as he spoke to Juste about the plans that lay ahead.

Christine watched pensively through the window at the vast expanse of grey gloom that trudged past the window monotonously and worried some cruel, evil force would rip her dearly beloved from her heart. She turned to gaze at his pleasing countenance and watched in fascination as an opaque cloud from the cold hovered about his mouth as he spoke to Juste. She reached through the mist and stroked his chin with her fingertips and he stopped speaking to Juste and said "Yes, my love?"

"It's – I mean I'm, I'm just – admiring." Her dimple jumped out and she looked away quickly.

He smiled at her, a question forming momentarily in his eyes, and then resumed his conversation with Juste. She pulled her woolen cloak closer around her, which automatically prompted Erik to wrap both arms around her and pull her close against him, though he continued talking to Juste. Her skirts spilled over and draped his thigh. His secure warmth chased away her fears.

The driver's whistling at the horses and pulling back on the reins to slow them alerted the occupants of the carriage that they had arrived at their destination. Christine leaned toward the window to survey the architecture of the buildings. The minister's house was small but well kept and the church itself, though older was quaint and pleasing to the eye. Though the church had once belonged to the Catholics it now resided in the care of a faction of liberal French Protestants, of which Juste was one. This area of France had once been a stronghold of underground Huguenots for many generations, and now that they had come out to worship freely their membership had swelled to even greater numbers. Juste and M. Rabaut belonged to the most liberal gatherings of parishioners whose group resulted from a schism between those who espoused the principle of liberty of conscience between man and his maker and freedom from forced confession as a show of faith. Though Juste himself fully embraced the tenets of his religion he held even more precious the guarantee that the religious liberties of all men would be protected since his own parents had lost their lives fighting to claim allegiance to their God in a way that spoke to them of truth. Because Juste's parents' had been adherents to humanism before converting to Protestantism, those tenets no doubt had also influenced Juste's open minded beliefs.

The coachman threw open the door of the carriage and Erik was first to alight. He turned to the small doorway and grasped Christine around the waist to lift her from the step to the ground. He walked with her in the crook of his arm up the cobblestone toward the heavy wooden door of the minister's home. Suddenly the huge door was thrown open by a large man with sparkling eyes that were set in a fringe of black lashes and adorned with permanent etchings of crinkles at the corners made from a smile that jumped easily to life. The minister was devoted not only to his congregation, but to mankind itself since he believed a true devotion to God was revealed by a true devotion to his beloved children.

The minister grasped Erik's hand and shook it robustly as he said "So I've finally come face to face with the illustrious Erik! Juste speaks very highly of you. A thinking man eh?"

"Ah, so that is how he refers to me is it? Well, then, that by such a man as himself is highly complimentary."

"You know it is true Erik," Juste retorted. "I respect your views and reasoning immensely." "Thank you, Erik said graciously. You are too generous. I'm far more used to your incisive arguments than your compliments!" The men all chuckled.

Erik turned toward Christine and offered this is my fiancée Mlle. Christine Daae. Christine loved the sound of it and turned shining eyes brimming with devotion toward Erik whose own eyes returned the devotion unabashedly. The affection between them was not lost on the two men who watched. Juste gestured toward the minister and introduced him saying "This is our beloved and devoted minister M. Rabaut."

M. Rabaut led them into the front parlor where a comfortable stove warmed the room. A sofa lined the window while chairs flanked a fireplace that also glowed orange flames and spread a relaxing radiance throughout the room. Bookshelves replete with books of every size and color leaned against every wall. A large desk sat in the middle of the room and several stacks of papers bound into small stand-alone volumes were scattered over the lustrous top. M. Rabaut stood over the desk and gathered a volume in his hands that had already been separated from the group and let it drop open. Erik held his breath as he waited in anticipation.

"You wanted to know the name of the man who sought your life?"

"Yes."

"I have it here in my records as 'Gabriel Bonnaire'."

The harsh words hit his ears with a force that rivaled a physical blow. Shock carelessly twisted Erik's features into an expression that exposed his most vulnerable emotions. His brows rushed together darkly and the corner of his mouth curled downward in derision. He turned swiftly to Christine shaking his head in disbelief and began to pace the floor rapidly with his cloak tumbling behind and his hand dragging through his hair. After a few minutes he said in anguish "What would compel a father to want to kill his own son?"

Christine's mouth dropped open and fear and then anger flashed through her eyes.

"Who was my father that he wanted me dead?" Erik whirled abruptly toward the minister and said, "His widow – you know her?"

"Yes, but only superficially."

"I must speak with her! Is it possible?"

"It could be arranged I think."

Erik resumed his pacing and again dragged his fingers through his hair as his mind worked furiously. He spoke aloud, though to no one in particular, "Was there some relationship to the traveling fair?"

Christine rose from the sofa and laid a hand on his arm as she asked softly "Why a traveling fair?"

He stopped his frenetic pacing and stood staring into her eyes and exhaled his breath pointedly while his mind warred with which string of words seemed most appropriate since none could do the situation justice.

"You remember those marks you saw on my back last night?" he asked bluntly. She backed away a step or two as if somehow removing herself would mitigate the pain she knew was about to come.

"Y – yes. He hesitated and her eyes filled with questions.

"This is very hard to tell you – I wish it were not so, but I was once paraded as a freak in a traveling fair. They derided me as the "Devil's Child." He dropped his head and shook it slightly in humiliation, causing a piece of thick, black hair to cut a dark line across his mask. He was too emotional to speak. Everyone in the room held his breath and waited patiently.

He faced Christine again and said with a barely concealed tremor in his voice "They believed only the harshest and most relentless punishment would cleanse me of my horrible beastliness. Each time they removed my mask I was viciously whipped until I bled and cried out and begged them to stop."

The tremor in his voice grew and revealed a scathing humiliation that alternated with an equal measure of emotional pain that still cut like razors across his heart. "People watched while they did it; I was their entertainment. There. Now you know Christine."

Christine's face twisted into a grimace of sheer horror and nausea welled up into her throat. Quickly she cupped her mouth and ran to the basin and threw up everything in her stomach. Erik's mouth dropped open and he sprinted closely behind her and held her plaited hair and soft tendrils away from her face. The humiliation she felt now, she mused sardonically, could not even begin to rival which he must have felt all those years ago. A servant bustled in to take away the basin and bring her tincture of peppermint and cold water. Christine accepted both gratefully.

A sob caught in her throat and she burst into tears. Her chest began heaving uncontrollably. She could not calm her anguish. Erik stood rooted in place, dumbfounded. Panic for her sanity assailed him, but he resolutely pushed it aside. She dropped her face into her hands and said "I can't stop!" The sobs came in waves. "I – can't – stand – that – you – were in such pain." The tears fell through her fingers and drew long lines down her wrists. She fell against him and slowly encircled her arms around his waist so tightly that he had to breathe in shallow gulps, but he waited patiently for the racking sobs to abate. Obviously, now was not the time to finish the story.

He slipped his fingers into her hair and gently stroked his thumb against her cheek. When the convulsions slowed he began to speak to her with his mouth close to her ear and his voice silken and sweet "Christine, I am all right now; I have you, remember? I once told you I would retrace every step if it meant you would be waiting at the end of the path."

He gently turned her tear-streaked face up to his. When her anguished eyes locked his, he continued in the same soft tones, "I meant it. There is not a thing in this whole, awful, wonderful, world that means more to me than having you in my arms this very moment."

"Erik, I would die without you but I hate that the tortuous path you have trod to come to me was so full of pain."

"And you are sweet for that, my love, but there is no changing it."

"If there were I would!" she said stubbornly.

"I know you would, my fairest love. And knowing that somehow makes it far more tolerable."

She loosed her grip on him and they slowly drew apart. M. Rabaut and Juste waited respectfully for the curtain to fall on the symphony of emotions that they had just witnessed as an interlude between their planning before they spoke again. They felt as if they had been privy to the poignantly desperate love-making of two naked souls. In fact, they had.

Erik took Christine by the hand and led her to the sofa and then stood beside her while he resumed speaking to Juste and M. Rabaut. "Do you think she would see me? Perhaps even today?" He waited for their answer but stared at them intently with penetrating green eyes that revealed his eagerness. M. Rabaut and Juste turned their heads to stare at each other and then looked back as M. Rabaut replied and pointed with his index finger "Perhaps the three of us..."

But Christine grabbed Erik's hand and cried out "I will not let you go without me!" Erik concealed a smile at her protectiveness toward him and shook his head when he turned toward the men "She must come along with me if she so wishes." He paused and waited to hear their opinions.

M. Rabaut said, "The woman seemed to be a devoted parishioner, and somewhat timid. If my powers of judgment don't fail me, I think the situation would be without undo danger. Juste and I could go in first to secure her permission and equanimity, and the two of you could follow once she accepts."

"And if she refuses?" Erik asked.

"Well take it as it comes, but I am fairly confident she won't."

"What makes you say so?"

"I don't think she loved her husband. She was afraid of him."

Erik turned back to Christine, "My love, are you sure you are up for this?" Christine began to understand what Erik had meant when he said the path to their union may be fraught with difficulty. She stood, slipped her arms around his waist, dropped her head to his chest and murmured "Yes, anything for you, my love."

He stroked her hair reassuringly and said to the men "We're set then. Let's go." Erik was anxious to know more about his mysterious past.

"All right," M. Rabaut began, "but we should make haste since it's another hour out by carriage. We can get something to eat there, too. The town bustles with shops and taverns and Christine may not be ready for that now."

Christine shook her head "No, the anticipation has unsettled my stomach."

The sun had come out in earnest while they were inside and had melted the bands of fog into imperceptible mists. The carriage that sat in the sun had warmed discernibly but Christine still sat close to Erik and nestled against him in the crook of his arm. The barren branches and twigs sparkled with dew drops that had coalesced out of the morning's fog. As the carriage clipped along at a steady gait several clusters of dots on the horizon swelled into large, beautiful manors of mammoth proportions and then receded in the distance and once again become clusters of dots as they traveled along their way. One glorious edifice that began to swell from the ground now stood out in particular for its beauty and its size. The well-manicured grounds were lush and inviting, even in winter. The long winding cobblestone drive was designed through the eye of an artist as it weaved in and out of hanging trees and iron gates that curved and twisted gracefully before finally stopping at a sprawling estate the soared to the sky or bowed low in trees and vines. The cluster of well-tended homes that sat off to the side like a small village testified of its long history.

Erik thought wistfully how wonderful it would be to take his bride home to such a place but then squelched the prideful thought since he believed he had already been given a bounty greater than any priceless inheritance when he won Christine's love, still, he wondered about the occupants and whether happiness or misery had been their lot. Once he had settled on a name, he would set out to buy property for himself and Christine since he had amassed a goodly sum of money over the years.

Erik turned his attention back to the manor. A large sign with the family crest and name heralded the beginning of the drive but was overgrown with choking vines that revealed only patches of color on the crest and a few letters of the family name. Only a 'de' and 'C' and 'n' showed. A rush of nausea overwhelmed Erik when the sudden thought of de Chagny entered his thoughts. He hated that he would be preventing Christine from having a life such as this, but felt relieved when he saw that Christine showed no hint of recognition. Perhaps that wasn't the name on the sign beneath all the curling vines after all.

While Juste and M. Rabaut murmured betwixt themselves about the upcoming Sunday service, Erik anticipated what lay ahead, while Christine nestled comfortably in the arm that encircled her. Erik hoped desperately to settle once and for all what had been his mother's name since he thought he knew, but wanted to be certain. It was the name he would give to Christine. He became aware of her warmth in the crook of his arm and gave her a gentle squeeze as he sighed contentedly.

"Christine?"

"Yes my love?"

"Today I hope to find out what name I will give you in marriage with confidence since I now know which of the two names I had remembered was my mother's maiden name. Naturally, I do not want to keep the name of my father."

She sat up with shining eyes that were full of interest.

"What was her name?"

"I believe her name was Emmanuelle Gardinier. If I am correct, you shall be known as Mme.Gardinier."

"Erik, I shall be honored to be known by such a name."

She clasped her hands in elation. "Oh my love, this is so exciting!" After the large estate rose before them and then fell behind and receded in the distance as had all the others, they came to a forested area that parted to reveal a quaint but stylishly tidy village.

The town center was a buzz of merchant shops from which a busy clientele could be seen shuttling in and out and several outlying areas that looked like spokes coming off the center were clusters of homes that huddled in groups and hemmed in the town's retail. Neatly dressed women with their entourage of two or three servants and men of industry roamed the streets in search of fresh meats or fruit, colorful fabrics, jewelry, or some trinket for decoration. The shops included a tailor shop, an apothecary, a glass blower, an emporium of personal and household goods and a jewelry shop, to name a few.

Erik watched in fascination; things had changed a great deal since he had last gone out of the opera house when his attachment to Christine had begun to bloom in earnest three years ago. He thought back to her fifteenth birthday and recalled that it was then that she had begun to take on the nuances of womanhood and he had noticed a change in his feelings toward her but feared horribly approaching her only to be summarily rejected as a result of his repulsive face. It took him nearly three years to finally get the nerve to come for her and invite her to his cellars. How differently things had turned out! He marveled that she loved him so.

Suddenly Erik realized the family owned jewelry shop was the one Mme. Giry had mentioned, "Montagne Jewelry." Except that it was now "Montagne and Son's Jewelry." Christine turned to follow what Erik was staring at so intently and smiled at him shyly. He winked and she snuggled in close against him again. Erik could barely stop himself from clasping Christine's hand and alighting from the steps of the carriage to fly into the jewelry store and slide a ring on her finger, but he did. Other urgent matters demanded his immediate attention. Christine silently whispered the name Mme. Gardinier over and over again in her head.

As the carriage drew closer to their destination, a menacing wariness permeated Erik's thoughts and sharpened his senses tautly. The carriage turned abruptly into a short drive and Juste tapped on the window to let the driver know he should halt and wait several yards away from the door. M. Rabaut opened the door and climbed down and then turned to Erik and said "I'm going to make the introductions and tell your story. I'll return to advise you as soon as I have news."

"Thank you, yes, a good plan."

"And now, Juste, if you'll accompany me?"

"Of course."

Erik and Christine remained in the carriage and watched as a very plain, middle-aged woman answered the door. The woman at the door immediately recognized both Juste and M. Rabaut since M. Rabaut had prayed with her that awful night, and Juste had toured the celebratory festivals with his church musicians during the summer, and Mme. Bonnaire being a lover of church music had followed along for every performance.

Erik saw her glance at the carriage and then back to Juste and M. Rabaut and nod her head. She retreated from the door and M. Rabaut went inside while Juste came back to the carriage and stood at the door as he spoke to them. I was very blunt and told her you had reason to believe you were her deceased husband's son. She has graciously invited us inside. Christine clasped Erik's hand and her eyes met his. He nodded a curt nod as if to say "Let's hope for the best."

Erik lifted Christine from the carriage and the trio walked to the front door where a servant ushered them inside. The servants carried trays laden with cookies and tea from the kitchen and Mme. Bonnaire briskly followed. As soon as the trio entered and Mme. Bonnaire laid eyes on Erik she fell immediately to the floor in a dead faint.

The servants quickly set aside the trays and ran to their mistress and began slapping her hands muttering "This is most unusual."

When Mme. Bonnaire came to she flinched and held her hands in front of her face and began pleading "Child of the Devil No! I have done nothing please do not harm me. It was him! It was him who wanted you dead!"

M. Rabaut and Juste ran to her and exclaimed "This is Erik, he is an ordinary man! He means you no harm."

Erik halted abruptly and stood rooted so as not to alarm her further, but was a little shaken himself. When M. Rabaut asked if she wanted a blessing she nodded vigorously. M. Rabaut fell to one knee and quickly uttered his prayer of protection and then helped Mme. Bonnaire to her feet and led her to the sofa while she kept casting surreptitious glances in Erik's direction.

"The fainting weakness has left me now," she reassured the ministers as she sank warily onto the sofa.

The servants offered Christine and Erik the settee that was placed near the fire and several yards from Mme. Bonnaire. Christine leaned against Erik and watched the woman who had fainted with open mistrust, and suddenly felt very protective toward Erik. Juste introduced "Mme. Bonnaire, this is Erik and his fiancé Mlle. Christine Daae. They are to be married and for that reason they come to you seeking information." Erik reassured "I'm sorry for your trouble Mme.; I mean you no harm." I am a mere mortal who comes to you without malice or otherworldly power. I seek only knowledge of my past."

Mme. Bonnaire became very alert at his words.

"You say you are a man? Can you prove such a thing?"

Erik replied "What would constitute proof?"

She turned to the servant. "Abigail, fetch a knife from the kitchen." When the girl hesitated, Mme. Bonnaire demanded with a voice that shook, "Quickly!"

The servant returned from the kitchen holding a long, pointed knife that gleamed and handed it to her mistress. Christine gave a little cry but Erik sat resolute and calm.

"If you are but a man, you will allow me to draw blood."

Christine leapt from her chair and cried out "No!" but Erik caught her skirts and stopped her in her tracks. Mme. Bonnaire, who was driven by her fright of Erik, ignored Christine. Mme. Bonnaire came to Erik and stood in front of him holding the knife. Erik held out his forearm and she quickly pricked it. A shiny round bead of dark red blood gathered above the knick. Christine stared at it in horror. The knife clattered to the floor and the woman swayed a little and grabbed her heart.

"You are a man! The liar!"

"Who lies?" asked Erik. "My dead husband."

The servant brought a clean strip of cloth and placed it in the extended hand of Christine, who took the cloth and tied the strip around Erik's arm and watched his blood seep into the weave of the fabric.

"Erik? Does it hurt?"

"No, my love. I don't feel a thing. I've had much worse, remember?" Christine kissed the bandage, uncaring that her lips touched his blood, sighed in relief and subtly wiped a tear from her eye, sickened that Erik would have to submit to such a test at all.

Mme. Bonnaire resumed her place on the sofa after her servants helped her back over to it and spoke "I always suspected he lied. I am sorry; the man you call your father was a difficult man. He was very handsome and charming, but he hid a dark heart. The words chilled Christine. Your resemblance to him is slim Monsieur, the hair color and height only perhaps. He never called you a son as he ardently believed you had been fathered by the devil."

Erik was mystified. "Why would he believe such a thing?"

"He believed your mother was a witch."

"You knew of my mother?"

"Yes, Monsieur, a very sad tale." Erik's eyes drooped at the corners in grief so imperceptibly that only Christine caught it. My husband threatened that you would come for me, and carry me off if I did not continue the hunt for you if death claimed him first. So, you can see why I was dreadfully frightened.

"Yes, I can see why," he reassured. A thousand questions tumbled through Erik's mind but he knew he had to restrain himself and speak calmly so he wouldn't alarm Mme. Bonnaire unnecessarily.

"What makes you so certain you are his son?"

"I once carried his name, but my mother changed it to hers when I was very young and we had moved north again. "Your mother was Emmanuelle Gardinier then?"

"Yes."

Her eyes widened. "So it is true. Emma did have a son with a facial disfigurement?"

"Did you know her?"

"No."

Something was not right. Erik pressed further, "Was her surname Gardinier?"

"Yes. Her father was a natural philosopher and a political activist; a very learned man, but lost his mind when his wife died. Emma was only seventeen, and quite alone at the time. The name was well-known in those parts. Yes, there is no doubt that was her name."

So, that is the name," Erik said aloud. He faced Christine and said "Memory served." Christine caressed his face lovingly, a slight smile touching her lips.

Mme. Bonnaire was suddenly very quiet. Erik began again gently "You said my father thought my mother was a witch?"

"Yes, but my dead husband was addled. Emma was well-educated and practical. But he believed she captivated him and all the men around her unnaturally with her beguiling ways. He could not break free of her spell. He always desired her. She also loved dancing and singing and mingled with the townspeople at the summer campfires."

"Yes, I remember that from when I was a child…"

"The men came to see her from miles around. My dead husband was one. He had been after her to marry him for months, and suddenly, one day, out of the blue, she consented. She gave birth to a son nine months after they married, but there was a problem."

"What was that?"

"They did not consummate the marriage on their wedding night."

"Well how long after was it?"

"Only a few weeks, he said she put up quite a fight, but he never believed the child was his and when he asked for a sign from God believed he got it."

"What was the sign?" "The son was born healthy and robust, but when he was about two months old a terrible birth mark began to appear on his face and grew worse over time. It was in the shape of a cloven hoof. He believed whole heartedly that it was a sign the child was the literal son of the devil."

Absently Erik touched his fingertips to his mask and asked, "You say the son was born healthy?"

"Yes. I have a portrait, monsieur, of the child at six weeks. Would you like to see it?"

Erik glanced at Christine and then nodded.

Mme. Bonnaire left the room and came back carrying an exquisite drawing of a beautiful child with a full head of thick black hair and handed it to Erik. Erik took the picture from her. The face was perfect. Erik gave a hoarse cry. The dimpled chin and the shape of the mouth left no doubt that the infant in the picture was Erik. Christine took the picture from Erik with hands that shook and tears streamed down her face. The face in the picture was angelic. She too, knew the face belonged to Erik. She held the picture in her hands staring and wondered what had happened and why. Erik's breathing was deep and uneven in Christine's ear, she turned her face slowly to his. A tear welled up and then slipped down his face beneath his mask, but he said nothing. When she saw it, Christine thought her heart would break.

Suddenly Christine and Erik became aware that Mme. Bonnaire was no longer speaking and they turned toward her. She watched them carefully and finally said, "Monsieur, there is more. I am sorry. Do you want to know the rest of the story?"

"Yes – please, continue."

"It seems, the baby – you – had a strange hold on the mother, according to my dead husband. Your mother was wildly crazy about you and would not let you out of her sight. When the birthmark appeared she became overwrought and extremely protective. Your father was terribly jealous of you and hated that all her love went to you and none to him, but as I said, he was a very difficult man. After your parents married, they had financial difficulties because his businesses failed. He attributed it to you and the curse you brought, though I blame the laudanum. He wanted you dead and told your mother as much so one night you and she simply vanished. As you can imagine he was enraged and scoured the countryside for you and her since he believed all his misfortune was due to 'the curse of the devil's child.'"

"Did he ever find her?"

"Yes. He had a business that traveled over the countryside and one night out at the summer fires where the townspeople gathered for small scale performances and conviviality he recognized her. He did not let her know he had seen her and he followed her home that night. At the time, you and she lived in a small home on the property of a large manor."

"Yes, I remember that. That is correct. What was his business?"

"He owned a traveling fair."

Erik expelled his breath and felt as if the air around him was closing him in blackness. Christine thought he looked like he was going to fall to the floor unconscious and so thrust her arms around his neck to steady him.

"My love? she queried, her voice showing alarm. Are you all right?"

"Oh my God Christine, to think all along that was my own father!"

"My dearest love, it's not your fault that he was a horrible man." This was turning out to be a very emotionally exhausting day.

"What happened after he followed her home?"

"He rendered her unconscious – chloroform – and then kidnapped her and took her home with him since she was still legally his wife, but when she awoke her son was gone. She became hysterical and fought my husband to get away, but he squeezed the breath out of her and she lost consciousness. He often told the story in a drunken haze as if it were a battlefield victory. Anyway, she was mad with grief. I've never seen such love for a son of his mother. For two years she did nothing but sit alone in an old dark shed day and night. Finally he took her to La Bicetre."

"La Bicetre! La Bicetre is an insane asylum!" Erik nearly shouted, his voice full of pain.

"Yes, Monsieur, as I said, she was mad with grief over the loss of the child."

"But the conditions in places such as that are deplorable!" Erik dropped his head, shaking it, and pushed his hand through his hair as he said with a voice full of a sad lethargy "How awful it must have been for her. Oh Christine…" he bent his cheek to her hair and let her give him comfort since the pain was acute.

Erik turned tired eyes back to Mme. Bonnaire and steeled himself for the final question about his mother he hardly dared ask. "Do you know what happened to her? Yes, Monsieur, I'm very sorry, the report said she died there."

He sank down to the sofa and dropped his head in his hands and then said "Oh my poor mother."

Christine's body bent with his and she draped her arm softly across his back. He turned misted green eyes to Christine's, "Christine I must visit La Bicetre to see if any one knows or remembers anything about her and you may join me if you wish."

"Of course I do, my dearest one."

He tickled her cheek affectionately. "I have to know more about her. They must keep records on their clientele. At least one would hope."

"Monsieur?"

"Yes?" Erik looked up again.

"There is something else." She hesitated. "A small envelope; I kept it hidden since I feared the curse but also delighted in betraying my irascible husband. When he found out about her death they gave him a bag with her belongings. He threw it into the storage shed and never looked at it. We married the next day. I'm sure he forgot he had it. He said he was satisfied that she got what she deserved. I was naïve and believed all he said about her but as time went on I realized he had a black heart. I feared if I tried to leave him I would meet the same fate as your mother. When I found her belongings I felt a stab of delight in betraying him, by then all my love for him had long since faded. I kept the bag secret; it was my revenge, but I feared the curse; he was so adamant about it, and I've always had such a fear of the devil. But I am confident now that you are a good man and that he was either mad himself or a disgusting liar. Perhaps a little of both. The envelope is still sealed and it has your name on it. I was afraid to open it or throw it away."

"My name? Are you certain!"

"Yes."

"Then please!"

She went into her bedroom again and returned with the envelope and Erik slowly took it from her as he perused the handwriting and recognized it as his mother's. A pang of anger followed by pain clutched his heart.

"Christine, my love, let us read it together tonight when we are alone. I want you beside me."

"Yes, my love." Her voice was acquiescent and sweet. Erik stood and reached out his hand to Christine as he asked Mme. Bonnaire, "Whatever happened to the traveling fair?"

"It was disbanded after there was a murder." Erik hoped fervently she would say no more about it. He feared Christine could not bear it. "The terrible treatment of the performers in the fair was brought to light so the public eschewed the fair when it came to town and M. Bonnaire lost the small fortune he had amassed from it. That enraged him and put him on a vendetta from which he never recovered."

"What happened to those exploited in the fair?"

"Some went to La Bicetre and others went to live with compassionate families." Erik extended his hand to Mme. Bonnaire and offered "Thank you so much for inviting us in and giving this difficult information so generously. I know it was hard for you."

"I wish I could say it has been my pleasure, but it has not. I am sorry to be the deliverer of such terrible news to a kind man such as yourself. No man who loves a woman as you do can be evil."

Christine nodded and could not restrain herself as she hugged his waist tightly and then rose up on her toes to kiss his dimpled chin. He smiled and caressed her hair softly. Abruptly Erik turned back to Mme. Bonnaire and said, "One final question. Did he work alone?"

She frowned thoughtfully, "I think he did talk of one other person, but when I would question him about it his tone became menacing and it scared me so I stopped. I believe there was another person but I never did find out the relationship. I'm sorry, that's all I remember."

"Nevertheless, you've been extremely helpful. I thank you."

Mme. Bonnaire nodded as the servant showed the entourage to the door.

A few minutes later the carriage drew away from Mme. Bonnaire's home and followed along the cobblestone to the market center. A lively tavern sat in the middle of the shops and Erik and Christine suddenly realized they were famished. Juste and M. Rabaut craved a nice draught of ale. For the first time in his life Erik felt like he could go inside and not hide his head in a hooded cloak, though he still, out of habit, felt uneasy. The foursome went inside to lively conversation and much merriment but no one said a word to Erik. Some stared, and followed him with their eyes as he went by, but nothing was said. Christine was proud to be by his side.

Christine and Erik ordered croissant sandwiches stuffed with tender chicken and drank wine while Juste and M. Rabaut feasted on roast, potatoes, and ale. Juste said compassionately, "Erik, you got quite an earful."

"I did indeed."

"Have you settled on a name then?" "Yes, my mother's maiden name, to honor her." "Wonderful! Let's get the two of you married!" Erik turned to Christine and touched his lips to hers softly and deliberately and said "Yes, let's."

"Christine, my love, there is a jewelry store in the town center a few shops down that Mme. Giry recommended earlier, let's take a peek inside today before we leave."

"Oh Erik! Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it!"

Christine threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek over and over again until several turned in there seats to admire the commotion. A few raised their ales and said here here as one man yelled "A round for the lovers on me!"

Erik laughed and turned his attention back to Christine, "I'd like to get an idea of what you like, but I want the final design to be a surprise!"

"I would love for you to surprise me, Erik. I trust your judgment wholly and completely. And knowing you designed it with me in mind, would mean everything!"

"You are sweet, my love." Juste moved the conversation along anxiously. "Have you any idea for a date." "Tomorrow," Christine said and smiled mischievously at Erik. "At least that's what I wish."

Erik laughed at her and said "We must at least have a ring, my love."

"All right, but I so look forward to becoming your wife!" She sighed deeply and contentedly, holding onto his hand that rested on her thigh, while gazing at his beautiful lash fringed green eyes and the earnestness that resided within them. Erik still at times, couldn't believe his heart's greatest desire was coming true. It just didn't seem possible. But here they sat, talking about a date and a ring.

When they finished, Erik waited for Christine to freshen up in the powder room while M. Rabaut and Juste looked after the horses and discussed their plans with the driver. Erik and Christine walked toward the carriage when suddenly Erik pulled Christine toward him and halted in shock. A man leaned against the building next door and watched them intently. It was M. Gauthier! Erik leaned toward Christine surreptitiously and whispered "What the devil is he doing here?"

They had no choice but to continue walking since he stared straight at them. Christine exclaimed "Good day M. Gauthier!" as they walked by since their route passed within two feet of him. The man showed not a hint of recognition.

"I beg your pardon, I am Jean-Baptiste Daniau. I do not know an 'M. Gauthier'. Both Christine and Erik were shocked since Jean-Baptiste was the spit and image of M. Gauthier, though upon closer inspection, his eyes were devoid of the same wildness that resided in M. Gauthier's. In fact, the coolness in Jean-Baptiste's made the wildness in M. Gauthier's eyes seem that much more pronounced; Christine shivered.

"Forgive me Monsieur, I apologize." Christine replied.

"Yes, Mlle."

Erik was uneasy, nevertheless, and when he reached the carriage he pointed out Jean-Baptiste to Juste, who verified his name. Yes, that is the man. He is a wealthy merchant in the area though his reputation isn't without blemish and his business practices are somewhat of a mystery, but no one has ever been able to prove anything. He keeps a capricious schedule."

"Ah, I see." Erik replied. "It's odd, but he has a look alike. The image is so close that Christine and I both made the same mistake in thinking that it was M. Gauthier."

"Yes, very strange indeed, and here is the irony: rumor has it that Jean-Baptiste had a twin who died in a theater accident many years ago. A fall from the scaffolding. The brothers had had a falling out, so the death sent Jean-Baptiste into a frenzy of guilt from which he never quite recovered. I never saw the report myself, but I'm sure it could be traced if we needed to prove it."

M. Rabaut who had been listening while he stroked the horses and checked their bridles walked toward them and interjected "Gauthier you say? Now that's a well-known and well-respected family name. I think I do remember their being generous patrons of the theater."

"Any possibility the brother didn't actually die?" Erik asked.

"None whatsoever since, assuming the rumor is accurate, there were several witnesses."

Erik continued to feel uneasy but pushed the thought from his mind and turned to more cheerful matters.

"I would like to take Christine to "Montagne and Sons" to look at their wedding rings before we leave. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. We'll meet you out in front with the carriage." Erik offered Christine his arm. Walking along the busy cobblestone streets openly with his bride-to-be was a new and exhilarating experience. Christine loved walking with her arm entwined in Erik's. Both felt today, as if they had been released from some imaginary prison. They entered the jewelry store. Rows of beautiful rings of exquisite workmanship glittered behind the glass. Mme. Montagne greeted them sweetly and then turned and barked out an order to her husband in the workroom behind. Erik suppressed a smile; Mme. Giry had been right.

Christine bent to one ring in particular. "Erik, look how beautiful." Erik bent to see a large blue diamond surrounded by a spray of smaller diamonds and set into white gold. "Do you like that one best?"

"I love it, but I would also love you to add your own unique touch in a way that signified our love."

"Would you my love? Are you sure?" "Yes very sure, it would mean the world to me."

"Then you shall have it."

"Oh Erik, I love you!" She hugged his waist hard.

"I'll draw up a design while we're here, but I will have to come back here without you then," his words were breathy with her hug.

"I suppose I will have to endure it for such a purpose as that!" she exclaimed turning back to the counter.

Erik asked Mme. Montagne "The blue diamonds, do you have more?"

"Yes, in our safe, they are exceedingly rare and precious."

He turned his countenance to Christine as they both bent down "Just like you, my love." She slipped her arms around his waist again so tightly that he feigned an inability to breathe. He turned to the Mme. Montagne and said "I shall return."

She nodded curtly. He led Christine away from the shop. When they left the store, arm in arm, they saw Jean-Baptiste languidly watching them again. Something about it made Erik wary but he did not want to alarm Christine. It could be strictly coincidence he reasoned to himself, but he tucked the observation carefully away in his memory for future reference nonetheless.

Once inside the carriage again, Christine nestled comfortably into the crook of Erik's arm again and slowly descended into a contented sleep, lulled by the mellifluous cadence of Erik's voice as he spoke with Juste and M. Rabaut. When she awoke and lifted her head Erik reflexively released his arms from around her and she noticed he was staring very intently at the same large manor that he had seemed taken with before. But this time the sign that announced the family name and crest coming from this direction was not hidden by choking vines. The sign read "de Changy" and the colorful family crest shown plainly beneath the name. Christine knew what Erik was thinking and said with a sleepy but surprised voice "No, Erik, that is not Raoul's place."

Juste and M Rabaut looked up from their ledgers and Bible to see what held their attention. M. Rabaut said "No, Count de Changy has no living sons."

Juste said "I didn't realize he was without heirs."

"He has only a daughter; her mother died giving birth. I was in attendance at the mother's death. The Count is not religious, but the mother was, so he called me in to preside over her last rites. That was before I left my Catholic roots and turned to Protestantism. Christine looked closely at the sign once more and said "Nor is that how he spells his name. The letters 'n' and 'g' are switched. What a strange coincidence. Though Raoul's place is beautiful, it's not palatial like this one." Erik was satisfied and relieved this place had nothing to do with Raoul, though he felt a twinge of shame over his thoughts.

At dusk the carriage drew up to the rectory and M. Rabaut disembarked and said his goodbyes. "I cheerfully anticipate the day I shall have the great honor of making you husband and wife! Hurry up with that ring, man!"

"That is what I intend to do!" Erik replied as he shook hands with M. Rabaut.

A while later when the carriage slowed to a stop in front of Juste's home, darkness had fully descended and the air was crisp. The moon was a bare sliver of bright white cutting through the inky black night. Erik lifted Christine from the carriage and as soon as her feet hit the earth she glanced above.

"Erik look at the stars! I've never seen them so bright, or so many!"

"Christine! They are beautiful. Come. Let us go to the gazebo for a few moments." Erik led Christine by the hand to a small gazebo on Juste's property where weddings sometimes took place while Juste took the carriage to the stable. Erik wrapped Christine in his embrace and they both turned their faces heavenward. A shower of blue stars glittered like diamonds and lit up the black velvet sky.

"Christine, they burn for eternity; like my love for you."

"Erik! It's the ring! She exclaimed. The stars in the sky shine just like the encrusted diamonds sparkled in the ring we saw today!"

"Indeed they do. Surely the universe gives us its sign."

"Most assuredly, my love," she said and slipped her arms around his neck and began to kiss his mouth with gentle butterfly kisses. He bent her in his arms and let the cloak fall from her shoulders. The cold air swirled and nipped her delicate skin and made the kisses he dropped over the swells peeking out from her bodice seem as if they burned her cool skin. She allowed her body to fall limp in his arms, fully trusting him to hold her and wound her fingers through his hair. The warmth and softness of his lips and their insistence, his scent, his breath, his arms around her, his firm body against her, intoxicated her and sent heated paths coursing from her center to her limbs. This for eternity, she mused to herself; it wasn't such a bad proposition since she felt she would never tire of such bliss. She longed to feel the warmth of his tongue against the sensitive peaks of her skin but instead he stood and pulled her up with him; she stumbled and tried to calm her heart and catch her breath.

He watched her steadily, and waited, his glittering green eyes serious. "Was it as intense as all that?"

"Yes, my love, it always is. I've tried to tell you that you intoxicate me."

"Well I hope it's not unhealthy!"

"Me too, because I'm not going to stop. Ever!" She smiled impishly and he hugged her close "How lucky I am to have you." "And I, you." He led her inside the house where they quietly disappeared into the bedroom.

He pulled the missive from his mother out of his pocket and glanced at Christine as he held it between his thumb and forefinger. "Are you ready to hear what she has written?"

"I am ready when you are and not a moment before." Slowly Erik broke the seal and slipped the folded paper outside of the envelope and pressed it open. The paper was a faded yellow and the crease had begun to separate in some places. Christine held her breath. Erik read aloud:

My Beautiful Son Erik,

If you are reading this, no doubt, I have passed from this life. I continue to hope most ardently you are alive and well somewhere, and happy, for you have brought me the greatest happiness a mother could ever wish for. Your cheerful spirit, and your affectionate ways always lifted my heart. Your musical gifts and your curious intellect were a gift straight from the heavens. Use them well. Every day spent with you was filled with joy and wonder. I love you dearly for always. You will never be far from my heart.

Christine was crying openly. Erik's tears came too. He stopped and brushed them aside before continuing:

I have been here five years and you would be a young man by now. There is something that weighs heavily upon my mind and which is of utmost importance I make you privy: Gabriel Bonnaire is not your father. I loved your father with all my heart and soul, unfortunately, fate kept us apart. For reasons of safety, I am not at liberty to divulge his identity in this missive. Your father knew you and loved you when you were a child, before I had to take you away. Seek him out.

With all my love,

Your dearest Mama

Erik dropped his hand into his lap along with the missive. "Oh Christine….Who could my father be? Why would she not say? And what did she mean in this missive? Is she trying to say there is another?" Suddenly he turned swiftly to face her, "Thank God my father is not Bonnaire! Oh the relief! Such an evil man."

Erik stood and began pacing while dragging long fingers through his hair with one hand and holding the missive with the other. She said that my father loved me, yet I have no memory of him. What would my name have been? What kept them apart?"

"I don't know my dearest love; you've got quite a history!"

"Yes, and it keeps growing."

Erik stopped his pacing and tossed the note onto the nightstand next to the bed and then came over to Christine and wrapped her in his arms. He touched his forehead to hers.

"Thank you for taking this journey with me, my fairest Christine. I couldn't do it without you. I love you so."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Erik placed his cheek against her hair so he could see behind her to reach back and unfasten the hooks of her dress, one at a time. With her nostrils pressed against his chest she breathed in deeply his mesmerizing scent, heard his breath softly against her ear, and felt his warm, gentle fingers dancing against her bare skin. Once the dress fell open to fully reveal the creamy skin of her back, he slid his fingers across her smooth skin and down he arms to let the dress slide to the floor in a slippery hush. She stood clad only in her chemise and undergarments.

She untied his cravat and let it flutter to the floor and then undid his waist coat, all the while staring into the green eyes that smoldered with devotion and desire. She pushed the ruffles of his shirt aside and planted gentle, full, lips over his chest and stopped at the crests. He sucked in his breath sharply and pushed his fingers into her wayward curls and then sank down on the bed with her against him in his arms to return the favor. Hot trails that tingled shot throughout Christine's body. They touched, and tasted and explored with gentle lips and soft hands, each the warmth and contours of the other, though without the fullness of consummation. When the flames of their passion had dimmed into glowing embers, and Christine lay with her back nestled against the bare skin of Erik's chest and his body curled around hers she turned contented eyes to the spray of glittering blue stars outside the window that twinkled in the black night sky and thought again of the encrusted blue diamonds of the ring that reminded her so much of the stars outside burning for eternity before her eyelids finally slid into a deeply contented slumber within the warm embrace of her dearly beloved.