A New Beginning - Revised | By : Lum Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 1953 -:- 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. |
Disclaimer: Please see the prologue
A New Beginning
War, Healing, & Discovery
Madison
The architect had been with them for a week. He was a strange man to be sure. He took his meals in his room as often as possible and conversed with someone only when forced.
Her father had informed the man that she would be more than happy to accompany him to view the piece of property in which the house was to be built on. Neither Madison nor the architect was looking forward to this unavoidable endeavor.
The day of the guided tour of her father's property dawned bright and warm. The southern summer had begun early that May and the soon maturing fields would need to be harvested just as the weather began to cool in September. The gypsies that traveled near the town would arrive in just a few more months. Her father often employed the young men as harvesters to aide their few able-bodied servants and local harvesters.
A droplet of sweat trickled from the crown of Madison's upswept hair to pool between her breasts. Her cotton chemise was plastered to her skin under her lightweight linen dress. Despite the pleasant temperatures the many layers of women’s clothing added an extra degree of uncomfort.
She reluctantly led the way across the plain between the house and the cornfields as they headed towards the neighboring property, a large and prosperous orchard owned and farmed by the Applegates.
Madison eyed the architect warily out of the corner of her eye, looking him up and down. He was garbed in the same clothing that he always wore: black linen pants and a white linen shirt. She noticed that his face and collar were damp from his perspiration and the red, irritated patch of skin bordered the half-mask that he never removed. He felt her gaze upon him and turned to catch her eyes.
Amber bored into hazel as they locked gazes. They stared each other down, neither uttering a word as they competed for dominance. "You must be very hot wearing that leather mask constantly in this heat," Madison goaded.
He did not blink nor show any sign of emotion as his gaze remained cool and distant. "It's such a pity that women must wear so many stifling layers of cloth, especially in the warmer months. You must be very uncomfortable," he replied. A twitch of anger flashed across her face as her brow tightened and her eyes narrowed slightly.
Madison broke their locked gaze as she continued her stomping across the field. He knew that he had irritated her by the tightness of her shoulders and the forcefulness of her gait.
His eyes traveled down her figure to settle on her derriere. It swayed deliciously as she walked, a fact that she was most likely unaware. She seemed to be a naturally sensual creature which was made more interesting by her unawareness.
Erik smiled slightly to himself as he followed behind her, his gaze never lingering from her swaying hips. She stopped suddenly after a distance, placed her hands on her hips and turned around to face him. "This is it," Madison stated sourly as she eyed the piece of land her father had gifted her with.
Looking at that stretch of land made the whole ordeal absolute, as if her never seeing the patch of grass and trees her wedding gift would soon be built on made it less real to her. There was no denying it now; as soon as the house was constructed her father would expect her to begin planning her nuptials.
As the sun continued to rise and sweat dampened her brow Madison narrowed her eyes and decided that she would find a way to counteract her father's plans. She swore to herself on that grassy knoll that she would never be married. "I will find a way," she murmured to herself, "simply because I must."
Erik regarded her warily, barely catching the softly muttered phrase. She would be trouble, that much he could tell. She was temptation personified with a fire that burned inside her, a passion that could consume him as well as destroy him if he was not on his guard. But he was always on his guard, and just as she had sworn to resist he swore to himself that he would persevere.
And so the war between two began.
Erik spent the next afternoon calmly surveying the Swift's plantation house. It was unremarkable but well built, ideal for the hot summers. Large windows provided ventilation and illumination with thick white curtains that blocked some of the day's heat.
The tall ionic columns supported the roof while providing ample shade for a place to sit on the balcony during the cooler hours of the day. He peered upwards at the most interesting part of the building, a small cube of windows set in the direct middle of the roof. While not unheard of he hardly expected to find a solarium in an American household.
He re-entered through a servant's side entrance, passing quickly through the halls as he further explored the house. It was a straight-forward and simple design resembling the man who owned it. Erik explored the rooms one by one, passing through the dining room to the library, through one salon and then another.
A maid polishing the staircase told him where to find Mr. Swift, "the master will be in his study at this hour of the day, sir," and pointed him in the right direction.
He quieted his steps as he heard arguing voices from the crack in the study doorway.
"You simply cannot be serious father, would you really sell your only daughter off to the highest bidder? Am I just a slab of meat then, to be flung at the first buyer?"
"Madison, you know that I love you with all my heart and that I would never do anything to put you in harms way."
"And yet you still insist that I give up my life, my freedom to some perfect stranger?" Her voice was strained in anger as she attempted to refrain from yelling.
"You are free to choose whichever lad you fancy, poppet. Surely you know that other fathers would not be so thoughtful."
Erik caught a glimpse of her as she paced before the door. "After everything…" she paused to gather her thoughts and began anew, "I cannot believe that you would still make me do this. Father, you know my subjects on the matter" Her voice wavered as she continued, "I want to see the world and be free to choose my life. I’ll not be caged, no matter how gilded it is.”
A note of sadness seeped into her father's voice as he answered, "Madison, my love, I want only the best for you. I cannot protect you forever. I will leave this world one day. It would be an ordeal for you to run a plantation by yourself. Women simply do not have the same privileges that men do. I have educated you as no other father would. You had the finest tutors and governesses to teach you science, mathematics, history, and foreign languages. And it would still not be enough. You will need a husband to help you. Surely you can see that I am doing this for your own good?"
Madison wiped the dampness from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt as her father rose from his chair to embrace her. She cried into him as his strong arms embraced her, letting out out years of frustration and hurt and when she was done he stroked her hair and murmured words of comfort.
She pulled back from his hold to look him in the eye. "I will still make the architect's time here is unbearable."
Jonathan laughed at this as he rubbed circles in her arms and said, "I am sure you will, my sweet, of that I have little doubt. But somehow I think this fellow can take your abuse. I only hope he pushes back and gives you a taste of your own wicked medicine. Do you know how much money you have cost me thus far? He is the fourth I have had to hire. Try not to run this one off, dearest," and he kissed her forehead.
Erik backed away from the study door not wanting to be caught as the two exited.
Madison
Madison entered the stable slowly taking her time to savor the smell of the sweet hay, earthy manure, and sweat. It was a calming place that grounded her and allowed her to let down her walls for a quick respite.
She visited the horses routinely, always pausing to give a quick scratch on the ear or rub on the nose to any creature that needed a little bit of comforting. Madison smiled as one gelding followed her from one side of his pen to the next in an attempt to receive more attention.
Soft murmurs pulled her thoughts away from the needy horse to the far end of the stable. A strong back covered in soft white fabric came into view as she inched her way forward.
None of the servants ever wore white, favoring a soft grey instead. White was a luxury, a color entirely too hard to keep clean when one worked hard all day. Broad shoulders that curved into a strong neck kissed with dark hair revealed who had intruded into her place of solitude. It was the architect.
She watched the muscles in his back stretch as the figure in the last pen moved to pull the ebony horse closer. He fondly stroked the creature's nose, whispering seductively into the mare's ear.
Madison's eyes roamed his figure. He was tall, lean, and wiry with just a hint of finely toned muscle under the linen shirt. His chest was broad and narrowed slightly at the waist before tapering into slim hips.
Looking at him made her feel strange. Her face flushed and her stomach tightened as the hairs on her arms stood up in goose bumps despite the remaining warmth of the day. The setting sun was visible through the gate at the end of the barn.
Golden rays of the dying sun cast their last glow on the Earth as the giant orb sank slowly into the horizon. The barn was positioned in such a way that the stables were lit at the moment of sunrise until the last second of sunset.
The architect stood just so in the fading light so that he was illuminated from the side, his white shirt and pale skin glowing golden as if he burned with an inner light. It softened what she could see of the white mask, blending it into his face until it became an extension of the flesh.
Erik
He knew she was there, studying him as he soothed and petted the mare.
Erik continued to stroke the horse's neck while he listened to the young woman's soft breathing. He noticed the slight hitch when he rolled his shoulders back, heightened his already tall frame and turned away from her so that she could see how broad his chest really was.
Smiling devilishly he looked over his shoulder at her as if he had just noticed her arrival. Erik saw how her hand rested absently on the dappled gelding's nose, the forgotten horse whinnying softly as his lips nibbled her hand while it tried to win back her attention.
His eyes slowly roamed her figure before coming back to rest at her flustered face. His smile grew wicked, the ends turning up at an angle, as he let her know that he knew she had been watching him. Erik's chest rose and fell with silent laughter as the rumbling, honeyed sound barely escaped his throat. She was quite lovely with her face flushed from embarrassment and her eyes sparkled with unconcealed loathing.
It was such a pity that she had chosen to hate him. Although he of all people knew how thin the line between love and hate truly was. The true opposite of love was indifference. His laughter grew into quick bursts of mirth as she turned and fled the stable. Her feet planted angrily into the earth as she stormed her way up to the main house.
He watched her retreating form, his eyebrows knitting together in thought and confusion. Why had he thought of love? The word resounded in his head and brought forth memories of his beloved Christine, the way her hair curled around her face and her eyes had always betrayed her moods.
He thought of his all consuming obsession with the soprano beauty and the way that even she had deserted him in the end for her cherub sculpted lover the Vicomte de Chagny, the cursed man who had wooed away his prize.
He found he could not despise the man as much as he desired to, or as much as he needed. In the end Christine had trembled with fear while she kissed him. She had been afraid that he would ask for more. And so he had let her go. Her eyes had always been cruel in their fear and sadness, emotions she felt only when she thought of him in those last few weeks.
Erik shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs of old memories that he had tried to sweep into the last crevices of his mind. He patted the sweet-tempered mare one last time on her nose and exited the stables. The daughter would be trouble, nothing he could not handle but trouble indeed. Yet he found he could not keep his eyes from her.
Knowing he should keep his distance from the girl whenever possible and knowing that at the same time he could not tormented him. ‘Why must the angel in Hell, the loathsome gargoyle always yearn for beauty he could never have,’ he thought.
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