Guardian Angel

Chapter 8: The Man Behind the Mask

Christine spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, distracting herself from the excruciating rejection she had experienced the night before. She was a wife, and she had wifely duties, but assuredly, coupling with her  husband wasn't going to be one of them. After taking the time to ensure she was well fit for their night together, he never came to her, and she sat on that bed watching his shadow for what felt like hours. Then he was gone, and she realized she was right; it would be a loveless marriage.

It was only a matter of time before she would notice his late nights at the inns, or the perfume on his shirts. Frequent visits to a "friend" in the city, when he was truly going to see that other woman. It happens to most married women, so she heard; husbands would lose interest and stray from their marital vows, seeking what they didn't have at home. Was Erik even like that though? Would he visit a brothel?

Tears pricked in Christine's eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her forearm, taking care not to get any soap in them. She was the one doing his laundry, cooking for him, living under his roof, why would he break his vows? It was silly to think that he would do such a thing and betray her trust, not when he had promised to be faithful in front of God Himself.

"Christine," came Erik's voice from the hallway.

Her heart skipped and she finished her task, ringing out the last of his socks before clipping them on the wire. She removed her apron and dried her hands on it, then hung it on the hook in the laundry room and entered the hall.

Erik was standing with his back to her, one hand on his hip, glancing between the kitchen and parlor. Her skin flushed when she realized he was searching for her, he was seeking her out! The possibilities of what he needed her for flitted through her mind; did he want supper, tea, to take her upstairs?

Clearing her throat, she said, "I'm here, Erik."

He twirled around, his face instantly brightening, and covered the distance between them. Her heart thundered in her chest, verging on eruption, but just as soon as he started, he stopped.

"I have finished my work for the day and had the idea that we should start your lessons."

"Oh," she whispered, dropping her gaze to her feet. It was foolish of her to think he had changed his mind so quickly.

"Did you not want lessons any longer?" he asked, taking a step forward.

"Of course, I do, it's just that–" but she couldn't say it, no matter how terribly she wanted to. It would not be proper for a woman to be so forward. Instead, she corrected herself with a quick-witted lie, "It's just that I have not been feeling well today and don't know if I can sing."

Erik frowned and brought the back of his hand to her forehead, checking for a temperature. "You are not any warmer than usual. If you feel well enough, we can simply go over some sheets of my music and see if anything sparks your interest for future use."

Christine nodded quickly, wanting more than anything to be near him for a while longer. She didn't want to go back to her chores, she longed to watch his fingers as he played his piano or even listen to him talk about his music for hours on end.

"Yes, please," she said, clasping her hands in front of her and awaiting his instruction.

With a warm smile, he gestured to the music room. "After you, mademoise–madame."

The sentiment excited her far too much and she had to stop herself from reacting as such. He had acknowledged her as a married woman! Oh, God, what she would do for him to recognize her as his wife, to call her by every term of endearment there was; my dear, my love, my angel...the possibilities were endless and she wanted each and every one of them.