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A New Beginning	By : Lum Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5784 -:- 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
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Disclaimer: Please see the prologue.

A New Beginning

Chapter 3

Home

Madison braced herself against the heavy oak bed post as the housekeeper, Ummi, tightened her stays. “Is my father still going on about that new house he wants to build?” Madison asked between pulls.

Ummi tsked at the question before giving the corset one last good tug, tying the laces as she replied, “I don’t pry and it certainly is none of my never mind what Mr. Swift does or does not do. I mind my own business, I do. But if you ask me he is only asking for trouble with those fancy architects. What’s he gonna do with another big fancy house anyways? But it’s none of my never mind and I’m not gonna say anything.” Madison smiled at the woman as she was laced and buttoned into her clothes.

Ummi had always been more than the housekeeper to Madison. She had been working in the Swift household ever since she was old enough to work as a scullery maid. Her mother had been the housekeeper at that time, keeping the house in order and the workers working. Ummi had quickly risen in the ranks as she grew older, eventually taking over her mother’s role in the household when she grew too old to work the long days.

When Madison’s mother had died Ummi took over the role. She had governesses and tutors, but Ummi was the person she went to when she scraped her knee while attempting to climb the large oak by her bedroom window, or when she and her father argued. She smoothed the fabric of the forest green walking skirt over her hips and tucked her white blouse further in.

The deep green of the fabric offset her hazel eyes, making tiny flecks of green and gold come alive. Picking up a brown velvet hair ribbon from the white vanity she pulled her long, dark blonde hair back from her face. It was a shade between blonde and brown which brightened in the sun and darkened in candlelight and had a slight wave that added fullness to her face.

She was fair of face and figure, but no great beauty. Her hips were too full and her nose was slightly too sharp. Her most redeeming feature was her smile, which when freely given lit up her eyes and softened her face.

A few tendrils of hair that were too short to be tied back framed her face. She sat before the mirror studying her profile before making a face. Ummi caught this and shook her head, “are you a young lady or still a young miss?” the woman asked in a chiding voice.

Madison smiled bashfully into the mirror at the woman who was so much more than a housekeeper or a maid servant.

A Few Moments Later

Madison wandered down the main downstairs corridor trailing one hand against the brightly decorated cloth covered walls while the other held a book of poems against her hip. She was lost in thought as she made her way to the library, one of the few rooms she ever actually spent any large amount of time in.

The sun was brightly shining through the freshly cleaned windows, illuminating the oak flooring and the few pieces of furniture that occupied the long hallway. She was lost in thought as she passed the dining room and reached her hand to the ornately decorated brass doorknob which opened one of the large French doors that led to the library.

Her skirt rustled about her ankles as she closed the door behind her and crossed to one of the extensive bookshelves. She pulled book upon book from the shelves, Shakespeare and Homer, romantic novels by Jane Austen and Mary Shelley’s dark novella Frankenstein. She devoured the written word, her passion fed at last during this respite from her schooling.

Madame Trousseau’s Finishing School for Young Ladies was of the mind that a young woman’s time was better spent embroidering handkerchiefs and learning the delicate art of being a proper hostess than reading and filling one’s head with silly ideas of justice and equality.

According to Madame Trousseau, who was not even French, the only books a woman needed to study were Shakespeare and a few choice poet’s works. Even then one was limited to the comedies and lighter fare, save Romeo and Juliet; tragedies such as Macbeth or Hamlet were unsuitable reading material for a gently bred woman, they might upset her disposition or offend her senses.

Madison had been nearly bored to tears. Every year she pleaded with her father that she would be much happier at home and every year he denied her wish and packed her off to the capital in order to become a proper young woman. She had long outgrown private tutors and governesses being nearly nineteen years of age. She sighed happily as she studied the heavy stack in her arms.

Sitting in one of the comfortably overstuffed chairs by the windows she looked through the pile of books and selected Utopia, by Thomas More. She placed the other books on the small table beside the chair and opened the small leather tome.

That Evening

Madison stretched lazily in the large reading chair. She had indulged herself divinely, reading the day away as the sun arced over the house and disappeared beyond the horizon. She had finished Utopia and moved on to a collection of poetry, the book she had carried to the library.

Midway through one of John Keats’ poems she noticed that she was straining to read the words. The sun had set and she would need to light a candle if she wanted to continue.

Her stomach growled to remind her that she had been too enraptured in her novel to take the noon meal. Replacing the novel she had finished and the poetry book in the book shelf she made her way to the kitchen to see what cook had made for supper.
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A New Beginning