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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
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Disclaimer: Please see the prologue

A New Beginning

Chapter 4

Reasons

Spring had given way to summer in one blistering hot day. The few short weeks of calm warmth and sunny patches in the neighbor’s apple orchard seemed to immediately turn to a blanket of muggy heat.

Awakening in the morning was perhaps the worst part of the day. Nights were considerably cooler and much more comfortable. The oppressive heat which seemed to begin as soon as the sun had risen did not afford one with the comfort of lounging in bed.

Madison had taken to sleeping late into the afternoon and staying up till dawn. She had plenty to occupy her time. She read in great long bouts, hours at a time until she became restless and the printed word could not seem to hold her attention any longer. Then she would lie outside in the grass and listen to the rhythm of nature as she gazed at the stars.

The crickets would chirp and the dozen or so bats that lived in the attic would swoop out of the shuttered window to circle the trees and feast upon insects. The air was comfortable; the oppressing blanket of heat and humidity seemed to vanish when the moon rose.

She traced the constellations with her fingers and attempted to recall the great Greek and Roman myths of how the stars were born.

Sometimes, when neither novel nor constellation could keep her mind occupied she painted. Canvases turned to landscapes where the rays of the sun lightened the sky and cast a rosy golden hue over the land as it rose. Always she painted nature, the apple orchard in bloom and the mountain spring that powered the large mills.

When the corn fields ripened she would paint them too, rows and rows of rich green. Her paintings would never be masterpieces, she was talented but unrefined.

There was a sense of rawness to her work, as if a piece of her soul had been ripped from her and placed in the drawing. Art was much too passionate a past time for her, a hobby she could only practice for so long before the mere sight of a brush or pigment sickened her.

She was like water, flowing quickly and violently over rocks and branches, never stopping for long because still waters stale quickly. Life thrived in her, yet it seemed as if she had no way of controlling it.

As Madison was reading one night by lamplight her attention began to wander. Her father had said something at dinner, a brief comment made in passing that she soon pushed to the back of her mind as it made no sense at the time that is was spoken.

When she asked him how everything was faring in the business he mumbled a quick retort before softly saying “and that fellow still has not arrived…” almost as if it was a thought he had not meant to share that had escaped his lips.

She could not help but wonder on it now as she rested comfortably in bed, the unfinished novel cast aside.

The Next Evening

Madison sat in the chair to her father’s right at the dinning table, smoothing the soft blue linen skirt of her dining dress on her thighs.

Cook had prepared a delectable meal of herb roasted chicken, cold cuts from the previous dinner’s ham accompanied by an array of cheeses, an assortment of fresh, crisp vegetables, and fluffy rolls. If it was not an expensive meal neither swift noticed, her father tucking into his chicken whole-heartedly.

She sipped the fine white wine that accompanied the meal as she thought of how to best broach the subject of the new house to her father, finally decided that the direct approach was often the best.

“Father, what ever became of you plans to build that second home you mentioned while I was away?”

Jonathan raised his eyes from his plate, his bushy eyebrows rising a bit before he rested his fork against the china, the piece of chicken he had been about to consume dangling haphazardly from the prongs, “I had hoped to surprise you, but it seems I never could keep a secret from you for long. You get your stubborn curiosity from you mother you know…”

Madison smiled softly, “and every time I broach the subject you attempt to distract me. Out with it, old man.”

“You remember how you used to draw your dream house, oh you talked non stop about it; you created such fantastical, impossible rooms.” He paused a moment to gather his thoughts, carefully phrasing his wording.

“I’ve decided to hire an architect to help you design and build it,” he stopped to sit up properly in his chair, “and once it is completed your things will be moved and you may have your own home.”

She blinked a moment, giving herself time to go over her father’s words and to comprehend all possible meanings. “But I’m quite comfortable here, father,” she replied, “why should I ever wish to leave you?”

At this his face flushed slightly and he spoke to her in a calm but firm voice, “you will need your own home to be mistress of when you are wed. It will not be far from here, the patch of land by the Applegate’s orchards will be the perfect spot, I believe.”

She stared at him in disbelief, placing the crystal wine glass on the table before she dropped it. “But father, I do not wish to be married. I am happy here, with you.”

He shook his head remorsefully, “Why do you think that I have been adamant that you attend finishing school these last few years? No, no, my mind is quite made up. The architect will be arriving in a few weeks and when the house is completed you will be wed. I care not to whom, pick any lad you admire.”

Her chin dimpled as she pursed her lips in a fine line of emotion, eyes misting. She refused to cry the tears of frustration and disbelief that she felt, her stubbornness not permitting any sign of female weakness.

It was so unexpected in a liberal man such as her father. Their family was not entitled or of a long noble lineage, merely farmers who turned quite a profit. The social influences of England and France still presided in America, though less profoundly or directly.

“I refuse,” she stated simply, assured that she could convince her father is she were unbending enough.

He sighed, the furrows in his forehead sharpening as his brows drew together in a frown, “you can not refuse, darling. Put quite bluntly I am kicking you out of my house. You will be married, end of discussion.”

Her chest heaved in held back anger and turmoil, her eyes pleading. He would have none of it and simply returned his attention to the lovely meal that now seemed less appealing. She pulled the cloth napkin from her lap and placed it on the table beside her plate.

“Please excuse me, father, I find that I no longer have an appetite.” She rose from her chair before he could utter a reply and fled the room, skirts swishing as she hurried out the room and down the hall so that he could not see her tears.

Author’s Note

Things are getting hectic since I only have two and a half weeks of school left. My professors are starting to pile on the work and papers. The next chapter may take longer to get out to you guys for this reason. I hope the father doesn’t appear harsh or uncaring, he has his reasons which will be revealed later on. Madison and Erik will meet in the next chapter. If you see any major typos or something doesn’t fit please let me know. Reviews are highly appreciated, cookies to everyone who has so far reviewed.
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A New Beginning