A Nightmare
*
IX
Christine sat quietly before the looking glass in the moonlit chamber, and smiled at the image of Erik the mirror revealed. She paid scant attention to her task, more interested in watching her husband while he slept. As she brushed the tangles from her hair, she kept her gaze on his lithe form. Though scarred, his strong shoulders and back gleamed like sculpted marble above the silk sheet. Her body still tingled with warmth from the feel of him pressed against her, stroking inside her, and the pleasure of his hands and mouth on her skin...
Giving a contented sigh, she pulled the brush through her hair. A few strands caught in the setting of her ring, and she winced as they dislodged from her head. She hated taking off the symbolic pledge of Erik's love for any reason, but after several failed attempts to pluck the strands away from the diamond, she realized she would need to hold it near a candle to see, or perhaps a flame would burn the stubborn wisps away, and she took her wedding ring off her finger, setting it on the dressing table with the intent to embark on that task after she finished with her hair. She did not wish to light a candle and possibly disturb her husband's slumber. He often had such little sleep as it was.
Again picking up the silver-plated hairbrush, she resumed the arduous chore to make herself more presentable before going in search of a hot toddy. How she preferred it when Erik combed out her riotous locks!
The full moon washed the mirror in a sudden glow of blue-white, diverting her attention to the top corner where a silver line seemed to ripple. How odd that the glass should reflect the light in such a way ...
The piece was quite lovely, but different with its plethora of strange carvings, the manner in which it had come to her also peculiar. The wedding present had been delivered to the estate a few days before from "an old acquaintance of the family" who wished to remain anonymous; the unsigned letter that accompanied the dressing table merely stated the sender wished "to repay old debts" asking Erik's permission to bestow a gift to his young bride. The missive gave a brief description of the dresser's many attributes; among them mentioned: "... moonlight brings out the detailed splendor of the hand-carved wood to its greatest advantage, rivaling even the exquisite loveliness of your fair vicomtesse ..."
Sharing her husband's delight for things of beauty, Christine instructed the servants to place the vanity dressing table near one of their tall bedroom windows, where the moon visited each night. She never drew the curtains due to her aversion of the darkness. Erik had observed her childish excitement with quiet regard, his answering smile faint and tense. Assuming his worry lay trapped in the past, she had walked over and embraced him in an attempt to bring him back to her. Though he never spoke of those days she had a feeling his anxiety stemmed from his interim away from the opera house, before they'd met.
Erik once told her that in the three years before she came to live at the opera house, he visited the world outside, his curiosity to see and experience what he'd read about in books appealing to his adventuresome spirit. He told her he hoped to find someplace in the world that did not reject him for his face; a populace that might look beyond outside appearances. Sadly, he had failed.
He seldom spoke of those days, which brought such pain, even remorse to his beautiful gray-green eyes. Remorse that troubled Christine. When he did speak of his short time in Persia, his words were limited, relating to intricate detail of the beautiful mosques and other exquisite architecture, never to what he did while living there. Even upon giving such general descriptions, a frown wrinkled the pale skin between his nearly absent brow and his full one, his eyes intense and haunted. She had no wish for old ghosts to mar his happiness or hers, and would then change the subject to something light or personal, teasing a smile from him or, to her delight, a laugh. The occasions on which he laughed were rare, but when he did show such amusement, the deep, rich sound inspired joy in her heart ...
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Reflections of the Soul - a Halloween novella (Phantom of the Opera)
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