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A New Beginning	By : Lum Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5783 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Disclaimer: Please see the prologue

A New Beginning

Ch. 23

Town

Not Censored

Madison awoke in her new bed, excited, and threw the covers from her body. Today they would travel the four hours it took to get to town, which normally would have been an exhausting, daunting thing, but was now exhilarating because Erik would be accompanying her, to have a fitting for the gown for the engagement ball.

She made a mental list of the shops that she would need to visit, the seamstress who was finishing the already in progress dress, of course, along with the cobbler and the milliner. She would also need new gloves…

Her hands flew to the hem of her long night shift, pulling the soft material over her head and flinging the used garment onto the bed. She stood naked and slightly shivering in the cool November air, for the night’s fire had died away hours ago leaving only faintly glowing ashes.

The hairs on her arms stood up as her nipples pebbled and she crossed to her vanity, pouring warm water from the pitcher that a maid had left for her moments before, and into her washbasin. Splashing the water on her face and upper torso she used one of the green towels to dry herself.

She opened the wardrobe and donned black silk stockings, attaching them to a garter belt, and pulled a fresh shift over her head, tucking it into white pantalets that tied over the stockings and ended just below her knees.

The corset was difficult to manage on her own but since the trip would be long and she did not want it tight she slipped it on herself without calling for a maid. Practice had taught her to loosen the stays and hook it around herself, then to hole one crossing of laces while pulling the next until it was tight but not unbearable.

She opened a drawer and selected a high-collared white shirt waist blouse with tiny mother of pearl buttons and Belgian lace cascading down the front, and over her hands. From another drawer she donned a dark blue pleated skirt that hugged her hips before slightly flaring down to the floor.

She smiled at herself in the mirror, smoothing down a wrinkle in the lace, and pulled a bell pull, ringing for a maid to fix her hair.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Erik pulled out his pocket watch for the third time in as many minutes and scowled to himself. What was taking her so long? When he agreed to escort her to the city for her appointment with the dressmaker; he had not thought that it would become an all-day affair, but with the minute hand creeping up to the tenth hour, he surmised that not only would this trek become an all-day event, but that it would also carry-over into the next.

And that meant that his surprise would be forced to wait another full day, if not two. He scowled as the second hand ticked on, oblivious of his seething ire, and he shut the silver pocket watch and tucked it back into his vest pocket.

He turned in the hallway and began to pace, keeping his eyes on the staircase and when he had turned for the seventh time and was about to begin the walk from the front door to the edge of the stairs he heard a door shutting and footsteps shuffling down the carpeted upper hallway.

His hands fidgeted with the edge of his silver wool vest and his crisp white shirt before stuffing the offending appendages into the side pockets of his black trousers.

She was beautiful, her hair upswept into a graceful golden knot, a few small strands framing her face. The skirt hugged her full hips deliciously, displaying the evidence of her lusciously curved frame as his eyes traveled up from her hips to her narrow waist, to the widening rib cage and her full bosom. She paused at the top of the stairs, one hand resting lazily on the banister as a smile curved her mouth teasingly and she descended one painfully slow step at a time.

His breath hitched, as it always did when he saw her and he pulled his nervous hands from his pockets, suddenly aware that he looked foolish with his mouth hanging open.

“We’re going to be late,” he said more sternly than he had intended to and winced.

She stopped on the last step, smile narrowing just a bit as her hand gripped the rail, “but surely it was worth it?”

He nodded and extended a hand to her, “of course,” he recovered, “you are more beautiful than ever. Shall we go, then?”

She nodded, smile brightening, and left her hand encased in his as they left the house and climbed into her father’s carriage. A maid was waiting inside, the chaperone for their excursion into town, and motioned for Madison to sit beside her on the narrow padded bench.

The carriage started with a small lurch once Madison was seated beside the maid, and Erik opposite her, and Robert led the horses down the road to town.

Except for the occasional jerk or bump from a dip in the road the carriage swayed gently as minutes passed the hour mark and the maid drifted to sleep beside Madison.

The sun was nearing its zenith as Madison looked up from the small book that she held before her, to discover that Erik was silently watching her.

She closed the book, one hand holding it against her thigh, and quirked a brow in silent question.

“I love to watch you read, every emotion crosses your features with each turn of the page,” he said earnestly.

Madison smiled in response, “I am glad then, for you will have a very long time to watch me read, Erik.” Her smile turned impish as he held a hand out towards her and pulled her to sit beside him, one arm remaining around her waist.

“I certainly hope so,” he replied as he dropped his hand to her silk clad thigh and tilted her head back into a firm kiss.

Her mouth yielded to his as she wrapped her hands, still clutching the small book, around his neck and shifted so that her leg bent between his and the distance closed between them.

A flash of memory of a cold night in a dark, fire-lit cave and passionate kisses and caresses crept into her consciousness until she was not sure if she was only now remembering a forgotten event or dream.

She moaned softly as his tongue parted her lips and snaked its way inside her mouth, exploring and tasting as one hand pressed against her back and the other gripped her thigh.

He tasted like jam and tea from the morning’s breakfast, which delighted Madison as she eagerly explored him, reveling in the feel of his tongue against hers as his hands kneaded her flesh and an ache awoke inside of her.

When he released her from his grasp he cast a glance towards the still sleeping maid, Madison’s chaperone, and smiled wickedly. A protector of his betrothed’s innocence, indeed.

Madison sank back against the padded wall of the carriage and sighed as she straightened her blouse and tried to pull out the heaviest of the wrinkles.

Erik’s musings over the frustrating out datedness of chaperones were broken when Madison asked him a question that he thought she never would, especially not since days had passed.

“What happened in the cave, Erik?”

He was startled, it showed in the abrupt neutrality that slid like another mask over the visible portion of his face, and then his eyes narrowed in bemusement as he replied, “you mean that you do not remember seducing me, and professing me to be the center of your world?”

Madison’s eyes widened in shock until she saw his barely contained amusement, at her expense, then narrowed in half-false sternness. “I did not,” she protested and drew back from him, crossing her arms against her chest.

“You did, you said that you would surely die without me, without my touch, I believe those were your exact words.”

Her mouth contorted into a moue of chiding consternation, then softened as his arm crept around her torso and drew her close.

She was stiff in the embrace, then softened against him as his hands rubbed over her back. Looking away embarrassed she explained, “I remember bits and pieces, and more each day, but there are still missing pieces. I know that we did not… I mean, that I am still… but short of that I am not certain about what we did or said, and I do not like the not knowing.”

One of his hands drifted up her back to rub circles on her neck. She shivered at the sensation and closed her eyes as he began to knead the top of her back and shoulder.

“You are trying to distract me, and it will not work, Erik,” she told him, even as her eyes were closing and her lips parted slightly in contentment.

And when his ministrations would not stop she pulled away from him with a groan of disappointment, already wishing to be back in his embrace, and turned from him so that she might regain her composure. She looked out the little window on the side of the carriage wall and counted the trees that they passed, trying to stamp out the desire that seemed so easy to conjure but impossible to banish as long as he kept touching her.

His hand snaked around her waist, palm pressing against her bellybutton as he pulled her back into his chest. Her arm lifted to lay on his, around her waist, and as Erik shifted on the padded bench he moved to wrap his arm around her more and brush a faint kiss on the junction of her neck and shoulder, his arm brushed against the side of her breast.

Small shivers wracked her tingling frame at the faintest of caresses, feeling the pressure through layers of fabric and clothing, she grasped his arm to hold it in place when he would have moved away. The feel of his strong arm against such a delicate part of her body, even through the silk and cotton, wracked her spin with tingling chills. “What happened?” she questioned breathily.

He kissed the side of her neck between words, “we kissed,” kiss, “and,” kiss, “held each other,” kiss, “and I,” kiss, “kept you warm,” kiss, “and we slept.” He punctuated the sentence with a gentle bite on the junction of her neck, his hand moving to roam across her rib cage in lazy loops, fingers barely brushing against the underside of her breasts.

Heat throbbed between Madison’s legs in a maddening painful-pleasure, nearly making her forget the sleeping maid before them.

“And after, when you and my father talked without me, what did you speak of?”

Erik grew bolder, moving the hand that had stilled on her abdomen up, dangerously up to her full bosom as the other reached forward to rest heavily on her thigh. The way that he was sitting prevented him from pulling her firmly on his lap, which was probably a good thing since he might not be able to resist ravishing her, maid or no maid, if their little foreplay went any further.

“After we returned and alerting the neighbors and servants to cease searching, the question of your, how shall I say, honor, was brought into question. I told the truth, that I had arrived in time to save you, and that nothing illicit had destroyed your virtue, but the damage had already been done.

It was your housekeeper, surprisingly, who demanded the betrothal, which seemed to appease your father after a moment of deliberation.”

Madison turned in the embrace, his arms around her suddenly slack, to look him in the eyes. “I am truly sorry that I forced you into this situation, Erik, I need you to know that I did not plan for this….”

He raised a finger to her lips, silencing her, “do not be, after all, they did not need to argue very much to convince me, since I had already desired for your hand.”

She looked at him, mouth curving in a pleasant smile that brightened her face, “you did? Just my hand?” she asked teasingly.

Erik tilted her head to the side and kissed her jaw, “and you body,” grazed his mouth along her jaw to her chin, “and your mind,” and then the corner of her mouth, “and your lips, especially your lips,” and captured her sensuous mouth in a passionate kiss that stole her breath away.

They pulled apart just as the maid stirred slightly from a forceful dip of the carriage wheel in a rut in the road.

Madison slid away from him with a playful smile to the proper distance on the small bench. The maid stirred, sitting up and blinking bleary eyes.

Erik took out the silver pocket watch from his vest pocket; it would be another hour until they reached the city.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Madison sighed as she sailed into her bed chamber, the Lane room, at the Oakwood Inn in the heart of fashionable Raleigh. They had arrived only moments before and been ushered up the grand stairs by the lovely hostess, an older woman with a cheerful disposition, to the correct bed chambers. Erik would be staying in the room directly beside hers as the hostess explained, and the servants in the staff quarters on the main floor.

The maid, Sarah, followed along with Robert who was bringing her valises into the room and worked on putting Madison’s clothing and toiletries away as soon as all of the baggage was accounted for.

She gravitated to the window that let out to the balcony, opening the pretty French doors and stepping out onto the railed patio. People and carriages were traveling up and down both sides of the street, an errand boy ran past in a hurry nearly knocking over a strolling couple, who shot the smudge-faced boy an incredulous look.

She could smell the smoke from household fires, the manure from the passing horses, and the faint sweat of honest work, followed by sweet floral scents from a neighboring garden.

Even as her nose crinkled from the odd mixture of smells, she smiled. She was in the city, with Erik, and a heavy purse burning a hole in her dress pocket.

“Would you like to change your clothing, miss?” Sarah asked, pulling Madison’s attention from the busy city street.

“Yes, I think the green dress will do nicely. And my corset will need to be re-tied.”

Sarah nodded and pulled the light green wool dress from the dresser drawer, smoothing out the creases as best she could.

Madison abandoned the balcony, and its view, and after pulling the pretty curtains closed she began to unfasten the tiny row of mother of pearl buttons at her throat.

After she had changed to less wrinkled clothing Madison patted the reticule that was safely tucked away in a pocket and carefully pinned a brown and green hat onto her hair, mindful of the complicated up-do, and closed her door behind her, turning down the hall to Erik’s, to knock.

Seconds passed, then minutes as Madison knocked again and tapped her foot in exasperation. He was not there, but had not told her that he was leaving, which irritated her.

She refused to let his unintentional slight delay her appointment with the dress maker and with Sarah trailing after her she glided gracefully down the stairs and out the front door to hail a hack for the short trip to the dressmaker’s shop.

They passed rows of slim houses, flower pots and tiny gardens adding color to the red bricks, and she made a note of the location of a quaint book shop, the novels carefully displayed in the window, as they made their way to the dress shop.

When they had arrived Madison and Sarah stepped down from the hack and paid the man his fare, with extra if he agreed to wait the hour or so it would take for the fitting. He agreed, and the two women entered the small but luxuriously decorated shop.

She was greeted by rows upon rows of bolts of fine fabric, everything from satins and silks to linen and wool, and a pretty brunette shop girl who ushered them in and showed them to the back.

The fitting room was small, with only a small stool and a curtain, which Madison studied as the assistant left to retrieve her dress.

Once the dress had been pulled from its perfumed box, Madison stepped behind the curtain and raised her arms as Sarah swiftly undid the row of black buttons down her back and helped remove and carefully fold her green day
dress.

Sarah picked up the neatly folded half-finished dress and eyed it, “miss, you had best turn back around, we’ll need to tighten your corset a bit.”

Madison craned her head to take in the dress and nodded, grapping a hold of a handle on the wall, and bracing against the sharp tugs that cinched her waist smaller than she usually tied it.

She let out a shaky breath and nodded, it was tight but not unbearable, and held up her arms as the maid carefully helped her dress.

Once the buttons had been buttoned, the hooks hooked, and the ties tied Madison stepped carefully from behind the curtain. The head dress maker smiled warmly at her.

“You have truly outdone yourself, Madame,” Madison told the dressmaker as she studied herself in the full-length mirror.

The gown was gold, a tight bodice with a sweetheart neckline and small cap sleeves, it hugged her waist, ending in a low, narrow point, and flowed over her hips into a slightly flared trumpet that trailed on the ground.

The embroidered flowers covered the bodice, spreading in ropes of flowers and leaves onto the skirt where delicate crystal beads had been sewn into the decoration, and gold French lace edged the hem.

She looked exquisite with her burnished gold hair, hazel eyes, and the golden dress that hugged her curves and made her feel delicate.

Madison smiled fondly, smoothing one hand over the silk fabric and lace, as the dress maker and her assistant corrected the small bustle and hemmed the train.

The modiste looked up at her customer once the last pin had been stuck into place “lovely, just lovely dear. All eyes will be on you at the ball. You may take the gown off now.”

Madison nodded, “when will it be done? The ball is a sennight from tomorrow.”

The woman nodded, “you may have it picked up tomorrow evening; it will be finished then. Now, please change and leave the gown on the stool.”

She moved behind the curtain and lifted her arms as Sarah undid the row of cloth covered buttons, undid the laces, and carefully removed the gown from her mistress’s frame.

After she had dressed they moved to the front of the shop where Madison surveyed the fabric selection while the shop girl rang up the price of the soon to be finished ball gown.

“That will be twelve dollars and twenty-six cents, miss, would you like to pay now or settle your accounts later?”

Madison fetched her reticule from the pocket of her dress and counted out the correct number of bills and coins. “I will settle now, thank you. And I would like to discuss the selection of a new gown, for my wedding, if Madame has the time today.”

The shop girl nodded and placed each bill and coin into its proper slot in the brass cash register, then excused herself to duck into the backroom just as two fashionably young women, one of whom Madison vaguely remembered from that wretched finishing school, entered the shop. The bell announced their presence by chiming prettily.

Madison smiled politely as they stared at her curiously from behind the bolts of linen.

Madison took the time to wander the small shop, fingering the silks and satins and the almost sheer charmeuse, only looking up at the sounds of stifled laughter, to catch the two young women look away abruptly. The muscles in her back tightened and her jaw clenched as she refused to be embarrassed in front of these twittering nit wits. Apparently news of her debacle had indeed made it all the way into town.

“Congratulations are in order, dear,” the modiste said as she pushed through the thick curtain that separated the back from the front of the store and moved to stand beside Madison, “I would love to make your wedding dress. Will there, ah, be a rush?”

Madison clasped her hands in the folds of her dress and counted to five, taking a deep breath, or as much as her cinched corset would allow, with each number. She refused to fuel the gossip about her by acting childish and making a scene. She had, after all, gotten herself into this mess in the first place.

She tried to convince herself that it was only natural for the dress maker to ask such a question for a girl whose reputation had been ruined, especially when said girl had spent the night unchaperoned with an unmarried, non-related male.

So she counted to five and unclenched her finger, pasting a strained smile on her face, “no, Madame, there is no rush. In fact, I believe that we will have a long engagement, so you will have many months to perfect the gown.” Her voice was honeyed and light with only the barest hint of anger as she cast a cool glance at the girls, who were trying very hard not to look up from the fabric that they were fingering.

“Very good then,” the modiste replied with a hint of chagrin, “let us look at some patterns, then.”

Madison followed the dressmaker to the small table and sat on one of the small wooden chairs, Sarah standing politely behind her, as she and the modiste poured over the fashion plates from New York, London, and Paris.

And a considerable amount of time later they had agreed upon the pattern and embroidery. Madison cast a glance around the shop, the girls were gone and replaced by an older woman who was chatting merrily with the shop girl, thanked the modiste for her time, and exited the shop.

The hack was waiting and soon Madison and Sarah were tucked away inside the carriage and heading towards the next clothing shop. She would need new gloves, white and past the elbows, to complete the ball gown.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness, life caught up with me. Hopefully you will get the next chapter by Monday night. I promise that some more steaminess is headed your way and had actually planned to have it in this chapter but as it is, it’s already pretty long and I don’t want to make you guys wait any more. I have pictures of the dresses, here is the address to the ball gown http: //www .fashionmuseum .co .uk /userImages /virtualTour /moc5t. jpg without the spaces of course. I had a very wicked thought pop into my head, what would happen if Raoul and Christine heard about Erik’s engagement while on a second honeymoon in America, and decided to ride to the “poor girl’s” rescue? What do you guys think? And thanks to all of the help with the rooms, I will be editing chapter 22 to add in an inside garden room, which several people suggested, by the next update. Everyone who listed that room idea will get a shout out. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story!
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A New Beginning