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A New Beginning - Revised	By : Lum Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2072 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do now own The Phantom of the Opera and I am not making any money from this work.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
Disclaimer: Please see the Prologue.
A New Beginning
Parlor, Emotions, & Desire

Madison
The first evening when they were to sit together to examine blueprints and sketches began dreary and gray Madison found it ironically suitable. Rain pelted the windows in clumps as the wind whistled through the old oak tree just outside the library window.
Madison waited impatiently as the architect organized paper, ink, and candles. The dark, heavy rainclouds blocked out all traces of the sun making candlelight necessary despite the early hour of the evening.
She watched him as he struck the match against the table and a yellow flame burst to life for a few short seconds; he lit the candles one by one lighting three in all so that there were no distorting shadows on the table's surface.
The graceful turn of his wrist as he shook the match to distinguish it was such an intimate thing to watch. She followed the line of his arm up his shoulder until her gaze settled on the unmasked portion of his face.
He eyed her warily before reaching for the first parchment and unrolling it carefully. She turned her attention to the drawing and studied it intently.
Overall the rudimentary drawing was ornate, flowery, and completely wrong.
She studied it anyways, looked at the dimensions and pillars. There were two stories containing four bedrooms, three water closets, two dining rooms, the obligatory kitchen, one solarium, three parlors, and one pathetically small library.
After she was sure that she had looked over every inch of the design she raised her eyes to his, "What on Earth would I do with three parlors? You really must be joking."
He eyed her with curiosity.
She continued, "I know that I have avoided you as if you carry the plague, but really, you must have learned something of me by now. You simply cannot be dense enough to believe that this ostentatious house would suit me."
He studied her openly, eyes widening slightly with mirth, the corner of his mouth rising in mischief, "is that so…" he murmured softly.
She paused, straightening her back as she looked away uncomfortably. Madison had never really noticed his voice before. His thick French accent was magnified by his rich, tenor voice. It had a way of lowering inhibitions, and making her stomach flip. A faint blush stained her cheeks as they locked eyes.
She had never really studied him before excluding the quick, stolen glances. Yet she found herself lost in his brilliant amber eyes. Madison decided that they were the color of ripe wheat and warm gold with just the barest flecks of brown and green. They were cat's eyes that no human should ever posses and she felt as if they might truly see right through her secrets. They were unsettling yet amazing and she struggled to not get lost in them.
His head lowered slightly as if to grant her a better view, like a proud king obliging a peasant with one last look at his magnificent presence before the commoner was dismissed. Madison noticed how close their knees had drifted towards each other and raised her head slightly as she chewed her bottom lip in absent contemplation.
"It won't do at all?" he asked smoothly. She startled, eyes snapping up to meet his from where they had drifted to his plush mouth. "What?" She asked absentmindedly. He replied, "you were saying that these plans won't do."
She mistook the mirth in his eyes and voice as secret ridicule and pursed her lips together. "No," she said while leaning away from him, "it won't." Madison pushed her chair back from the desk and rose to her feet haughtily, "I suggest, Architect, that you begin by turning one of the larger parlors into a better library, that is unless you find women all together too incompetent to appreciate the written word?"
Erik kept his face under control as he fumed at her abrupt mood swing and condescending tone, "Mademoiselle, it has been my observation that most young females would more enjoy the company of seamstresses and gossips than philosophers and poet."
Madison seethed, infuriated that he would assume her to be like the other girls at finishing school, girls that would rather embroider roses and talk about the latest young man than discuss more worthwhile topics such as Shakespeare or politics.
"You are mistaken, sir" she ground out between clenched teeth. Taking calming breaths she unclenched her fists and decided against smashing his nose with her fist like the stableman Robert had taught her that summer when she was twelve. After she had collected herself she continued coolly, "Perhaps we should continue another day? I suddenly find my self sick to the stomach. It must have been something I ate." Madison smiled sweetly.
"Perhaps that would be wise. Until tomorrow after the evening meal, then. I trust that your constitution will have improved?" Erik asked calmly. Madison’s clenched jaw ruined her falsely sweet smile as she bid him goodnight and exited the room in a swish of angry skirts.
He watched her leave, both delighted and wary of her obvious temper. His first assumption that she would be a child or a simpering miss had been summarily dismissed and disproven time and time again as she sparred with him verbally. He leaned back in his chair as he lazily looked at the rough sketches from a previous job and wondered how upset she would be if she found out that he had not even bothered to create a new design in the two weeks that he had resided here.
Erik smiled lazily as he pictured her angry countenance. She was truly at her most beautiful when she was infuriated. Luckily for him it was an often occurrence.
Erik
Erik peered out the bedroom window onto the front lawn. From this vantage point he was able to see the daughter, Madison, as she conversed with a young man. He watched her hands moving freely as she talked in a manner that suggested comfortable familiarity. He noticed a slight twinge of jealousy as he watched her amble towards the apple orchard with the boy.
It was not that he had any emotions about the girl, he half-heartedly convinced himself, and it was just that seeing her with that boy had stirred buried memories of his beloved Christine, memories that should remain buried.
He turned from the window as they disappeared into the trees and were lost from his sight. Erik clenched his hands into fists against his side as his eye caught his reflection in the small round mirror by the washbasin. Anger poured over him but was soon replaced by an old and familiar grief. He dipped a rag into the water and brought it to his face. Wiping the deformed and sagging skin he threw the rag back into the basin and reached for his mask.
Madison
Madison walked with James, the only son of the farmer who owned the neighboring orchard. She noticed the trees and their buds that promised fruit, "you'll be very busy next winter, James, the apples are growing so quickly this year." The young man looked at the trees and then back at her, "we'll have a good haul this year; we only had to cull twenty trees, much better than last year." Madison nodded absentmindedly.
James gripped her elbow and turned her to face him, stopping her in her tracks, "what is the matter, Madison? I don't think I've ever seen you this preoccupied before." She looked at him a moment before sighing in exasperation, "it's my father."
James' face took a look of concern, "he isn't ill I hope." She shook her head and sighed deeply again. "Two sighs in one afternoon, surely things cannot be that bad," he said while smiling sympathetically.
A look of sorrow flashed across her face as she seated herself under the shade of an apple tree and explained, "It's just that my father is forcing me to get married. Oh, don't look at me like that, James, I knew that I would have to eventually; I just didn't think that it would be so soon. It sounds silly, I know, but I always thought that I would marry for love. And now it looks as if I won't have even that chance."
James, silent, sat beside her. "It could be worse," he stated after a few moments of companioned silence, "he could have arranged it for you without your consent."
Madison looked at her childhood friend in complete horror, "I had never thought of that." She turned her head down to watch the sun glisten through the leaves in dancing patterns on the grass. James studied her profile, noticing the dance of light across the bridge of her nose and the few freckles that adorned her cheeks and felt a tiny fluttering in his chest. His palms began to sweat and a small lump formed in his throat as he said barely above a whisper, "you could always marry me, you know, if no one else suited you."
Madison stared at him in silence for a moment before grinning and shoving his arm, "you almost had me for a moment, James, I nearly believed that you were serious." He laughed nervously to cover his embarrassment and looked away. "So what are you going to do?" he asked. She studied her boots and let out another sigh, "I have no idea."
It was late into the evening when Madison returned home. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom wearily, pulling apart the ribbon that held back her hair. She had just grasped the knob to her chamber when the architect opened his door across the hallway.
Turning at the sound her gaze locked with his and an uncomfortable silence passed between them. "Just returning home?" he asked. She drew herself taller, straightening her back, "not that it is any of your concern, but yes, I am just now getting in. You look as if you're dressed to go out. Are you leaving?"
He smiled lazily, "not that it is any of your concern, but yes, I am going out." Madison glared at his back as he descended the staircase and exited through the front door.
Madison entered her room and began to undress. She unbuttoned the row of tiny buttons at her side and pulled the lavender dress over her head. Pausing in thought she let her mind wander to the events of the day but was interrupted by a knocking on her door. "Who is it?" she called out.
"It's just me, wanted to see if you needed help undressing for the night," Ummi called through the door. Madison called for her to enter and sat upon the vanity chair as the woman began to unlace her corset. Lost in thought and unaware Madison missed Ummi's question. "Child, what is bothering you so much?" the housekeeper asked in a chiding tone of voice. Madison looked away from the mirror and smiled grimly, "I can't stop thinking of my having to marry so soon… and that architect that father found."
Ummi's eyes twinkled mischeiously, "is there some reason you talk about that man in the same breath that you talk about gettin' married?" Madison's eyes widened and a very faint blush bloomed in her cheeks, "of course there isn't."
Ummi chuckled at this contradicting response and reached for the silver brush that lay on the vanity. "Not that it's any of my business, but if you don't mind me saying so I've seen the way he looks at you when you're lookin' somewhere else. I also seen the way you look at him when he's lookin' somewhere else. You sure there ain't nothing on your mind concerning him?"
Madison glared firmly in the mirror at the woman before giving up her pretense of an angry countenance, "he's just so strange. Part of me wants him gone immediately, but a small part also wants him to stay so that I can unravel this enigma.” She sighed and dropped her angry shoulders in defeat, “I don't know what to think anymore."
"Well," Ummi began, "he certainly is charming, and what ain't hidden by that mask is handsome enough. Still, I can't help but wonder what he's hidin' underneath it. It ain't right walkin' around with half your face covered up."
Madison smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear as Ummi finished brushing out the tangles, "I'd almost forgotten about it," her voice trailing off as if in deep thought, "maybe he has a scar, from a duel or something…" Ummi tsked and put the brush down, excusing her self from the room after saying goodnight.
Madison rose from the vanity clad only in her chemise and strode to the window. She could see the lines of the trees and fields as the crescent moon and stars faintly illuminated the surroundings. Her breath caught as she saw a figure leaving the yard on horseback. She knew instinctively who it was.
The daily meetings to design the second home were proceeding tensely and with barely concealed seething anger. Madison refused to budge and Erik refused to draw the rooms that she requested. "You simply cannot grow an oak tree in the middle of a house. It is ridiculous and I refuse," he said.
Madison glowered at him, strands of hair escaping its confines as she glared in his direction, "my father hired you to draw and oversee the building of this house. Perhaps if you do not have the talent or the skill to create what I desire than you should resign from your position and leave?" She crossed her arms underneath her breasts and smiled devilishly, her right brow quirking in amusement.
Erik gripped the pen tightly in his hand, ink running from the tip and spotting his fingers and trousers. They were seated next to each other at the small drawing desk, his body turned towards hers. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to close his large hands around her slender neck and squeeze. He fought the urge, but barely.
She smirked in triumph before smiling sweetly, "I'll call Ummi and have her pack your things. You can leave straight after supper." She rose from her seat, calm and collected. When she attempted to turn and leave the room Erik's hand shot forward and wrapped around her wrist.
Her smile disappeared, "let go of my arm, monsieur." Erik rose from his seat and towered over her smaller frame, his other hand grabbing her other wrist. He stepped towards her and she stepped back, and together they stumbled to the wall until her back was pressed against it and he leaned in dangerously close.
She suppressed the small shiver that ran down her spine and settle in her abdomen and stared at him with wide eyes. Her back arched towards him until their torsos nearly touched. "My father will have you hanged if you even so much as break a strand of my hair. Release me." Erik dipped his head towards her and pressed her harder into the wall. Removing the anger from his voice and allowing it to flow sensually he leaned his face beside hers and whispered into ear, "Your mouth says 'release me' but your body says 'stay', I don't think you know what you want… in many circumstances."
Madison's face flushed in anger and desire as his rich voice seemed to caress her, just as his breath stirred the fine hairs on her neck. Her breath came in shallow gulps as he loosened his hold on her wrists and stepped closer until he closed the space between them and nearly touched the length of her. He stood like that a moment, drinking in the smell of her natural scent mixed with her perfume, delicate orange blossoms.
Another shudder ripped through her torso as her nipples tightened and dormant parts of her began to stir.
A knock at the door ripped them apart as Ummi came bustling through the door. She took in the scene before her and stopped in her tracks. "I brought you two more candles," she said, holding up the goods in her arms as proof. She stepped forward to the table and replaced the burned down stubs of wax with new ones.
Looking from one figure to the other Ummi furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips. With candle stubs in hand she walked though the doorway, but instead of closing them turned and glanced at the figures behind her and said, "I'll be leaving this door open, miss Madison, and If I see that it's closed later while I'm on my way to bed, I'll open it again. Good night," and left them alone.
Madison listened to the housekeeper walk down the hallway, her shoes making soft clicks on the hardwood floors, and sighed shakily. Her cheeks burned with a fierce blush. Ignoring the architect she pushed past him and left the study briskly.
Erik closed his eyes and groaned softly, raising one hand to the masked portion of his face. He had forgotten himself in a moment of anger and desire and had allowed the phantom to regain control. Bowing his head in solemnity he remembered his vow to design the house quickly and be on his way, and sighed forlornly. The lingering scent of her perfume haunted him.
Madison perched on the window seat of her bedroom window, the book she had been reading, Jane Austen's Pride and Predjudice, lay abandoned haphazardly in the folds of her lace trimmed nightshift. She ran a hand through the ends of her braided hair and stared blankly out into the night.
She tightened her hold on the book and brought it to her chest, leaning into the glass window pane. It felt cool against her cheek and was a pleasant respite from the muggy heat of the day. May had turned into June and the corn was growing rapidly. The fields would be harvested soon, and the weather hinted at a possible second harvest before the end of the growing season. This meant that father would be seeking out the gypsy boys soon.
The gypsies had camped outside of town just in time for the season's first harvest. They traveled this way every year, staying for a few weeks to do field work and stock up on supplies before heading northwest. They were not welcomed in most towns, distrusted and feared, but Madison's father had made an effort to befriend them by offering decent pay for the hard labor. His kindness allowed them to be honest workers instead of hated thieves.
She looked up at the stars and sighed, tracing shapes into the fogged glass. They faded slowly as her breath evaporated and she was left staring up at the heavens.
Eric sat at the desk that that had been placed in his room. He scribbled furiously on a sheet of scrap paper; it was a list of the rooms she had demanded. He expanded and changed them, making them more than the unfinished dreams of a child. For hours he wrote furiously, detailing the list of items and workers that he would need to begin construction until at last he began to draw, transforming their ideas into a work of architectural wonder.
He was nowhere near completion, but for now he would stop. His eyes refused to focus and his hand was cramped. Eric fell onto the bed completely clothed and fell into a deep sleep quicker than he ever had before. For once he did not dream of Christine.
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A New Beginning - Revised