HELLO AGAIN... I'M BACK. (BE AFRAID.) LOL... ANYWAY... SUMMER VACATION!! WOOHOO!!! THIS IS AN IDEA THAT I GOT WHILE WATCHING "A KNIGHT'S TALE" LAST NIGHT... NOT THAT THIS, IN ANY WAY, HAS TO DO WITH KNIGHTS, JOUSTING, OR HEATH LEDGER (YUM), BUT I THOUGHT THAT A PERIOD FIC WOULD BE COOL. YA KNOW, LIKE ONE THAT TAKES PLACE A LONG TIME AGO (AND BY A LONG TIME AGO, I DON'T MEAN XMAS 1987, LOL.) ANYWAY... PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF IT, AND IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR THIS OR FOR ANY OF MY FICS, FEEL FREE TO E-MAIL ME OR JUST PUT IT IN A REVIEW! PART FOUR OF "FEAR" AND PART TWO OF "THE POWER OF WONDERING" COMING SOON TO A FIC SITE NEAR YOU! (NAMELY, THIS FIC SITE.) :-) AND BY THE WAY... FOUR DAYS 'TILL A CERTAIN WEDDING!! YAY!!!
DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS PORTRAYED IN THIS FIC DO NOT BELONG TO ME. NOT IN REALITY, ANYWAY. DREAMS ARE ANOTHER MATTER.
Background: This fic takes place in New York in 1892 and is only intended as a work of fiction. Any parallels to other persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. (Although that would be cool, in that it'd make me kind of psychic... hmmm.... realizes people are staring.) ::Clearing throat:: Anyway, the Gellers are a highly respected family... Mr. Geller is a wealthy business tycoon and Mrs. Geller is a housewife (as I think most women of noble status were in those days). Monica and Ross are... well, their children. (Bet you didn't see that coming.) The rest of the characters will be introduced in due course... I am not yet sure of Phoebe and Joey's role in this fic, but it will get figured out as I go along.
Love Against All Odds
Chapter One
"This couldn't come at a worse time," Judy Geller sighed as she sat in the front room of her house with her husband. "I mean, really, with Monica's debut coming up and Ross preparing for college, I could have done without having to find another maid." Jack Geller took a sip of his brandy.
"Don't fret, dear," he said comfortingly as he turned the page of his newspaper. "Bessie isn't the only available help. She can be replaced." Judy sighed again.
"I know. It's just that she's leaving tomorrow. What am I going to do until we find a replacement?" Jack put the paper down and leaned back thoughtfully.
"Well, the smaller tasks Monica can help you with, and I'll go downtown first thing in the morning and look into finding a replacement, all right?" Judy nodded agreeably as her husband picked up the paper once again. The idea of doing household chores herself sickened her, and she hoped that Jack would find a suitable replacement soon.
"How did it go?" Judy asked hopefully when Jack returned home the next evening.
"Quite well, in fact," he replied with a smile. "Apparently John Delaney has been letting some of his help go since the children have moved out. Why, just yesterday he decided to dismiss a woman who had been working for him for about two years. She comes highly recommended, and she also has a son. John says the boy is quite adept at keeping his land and making the property look presentable." Judy nodded slowly.
"And the woman?"
"John said that Charlotte was very happy with her," he replied. "Apparently her husband ran off and left her with the boy when he was quite young." Judy shook her head and made a "tsk tsk" sound.
"Honestly, those people," she said with her ever-present air of superiority. "Well, I suppose we should call the woman and make the arrangements. She can sleep in Bessie's old room, and the boy can have the old butler's quarters downstairs. It hasn't been cleaned since Jeffrey left, but a quick cleaning and it'll do." She turned to leave the room and paused momentarily. "What is the woman's name, anyhow?"
"Nora," Jack replied after a moment. "Nora Tyler." After another pause he scratched his head. "Son has a strange name. Something beginning with a 'C.'" He shrugged. "Well, we'll find out tomorrow. I told John to send her around so that we can meet her." Judy nodded, thankful that he'd been so quick in finding help and that she wouldn't have to do any more housework than she'd done already.
"Monica, dear, do sit up straight," Judy commented. "Honestly, you look like an old spinster when you hunch over like that." Monica obliged wordlessly. She was used to her mother's criticisms, and while she took them with a grain of salt, she never allowed the comments to upset her. She smoothed the front of her frock carefully as she sat on the bench in the den awaiting the arrival of the new maid. She wished she could go back to reading her book, but she knew that giving all guests, regardless of their status, a proper welcome was something that her mother insisted upon. As she sat on the green velvet bench, she allowed her mind to drift back to the story she had been engrossed in before her father summoned her downstairs. While her mother said that no good ever came of reading and that girls should simply see to household and family duties, Monica couldn't help herself when it came to books. Even when she was younger she would take Ross's books when he was done reading them and read them herself. She'd always been envious that he'd gotten to continue with his schooling. When she'd turned sixteen, her mother had said that since she wouldn't be going to college, there was really no point in her continuing her education. More than anything, Monica wanted to go to college and live an educated life. The idea of living as her mother had, subservient to her husband's wishes and demands, was something that made her feel trapped, and she dreaded the day when she would be married. Most of the girls her age, especially her best friend Rachel, looked forward to being married and starting a family. In Monica's eyes it was a form of imprisonment, and while she had tried to convince her parents that it would be worthwhile for her to continue learning, they had thought it absurd and had put a stop to her "ridiculous ideas." She was painfully aware of the fact that they planned to marry her off to Peter Becker, a wealthy banker whose father had been a good friend of Jack Geller's. In her parents' minds, he was perfect for their only daughter: rich and successful and of a high esteem. The fact that she didn't love him and could barely even tolerate him was of no concern to them. She was brought back to reality when she heard the doorbell chime and she rose politely to greet their new residents.
"John!" she heard her father say when he opened the door.
"Afternoon, Jack," came the reply. Jack stood back and held open the door so that the people on the other side could enter. Monica tried inconspicuously to crane her neck so that she could see them, but not obviously enough to make herself appear unrefined. She noted out of the corner of her eye the way in which her brother straightened his tie and straightened his jacket and she couldn't help feeling a certain amount of contempt toward him. Although he was her brother and she loved him, it got on her nerves the way he bought into all the social-class business. He was the kind of guy for whom she held a somewhat strong resentment simply because he refused to look past the lines of status, but in spite of this, she loved him anyway. When she was younger and would get muddy running around and would ruin one of her frilly dresses, he would sneak her back into the house and help her get cleaned up so that her parents wouldn't notice. When she stole her dad's pipe to play with and broke it, Ross took the blame for her. Still, sometimes she wished that he could be a little less arrogant. Her contempt for the social life and his embracement of it had created somewhat of a rift between them, and although it was a small one, she hated the fact that she was the black sheep of the family. "This is Nora." Her thoughts were interrupted once again by John Delaney's voice. She watched intently as a woman lugging a couple of bags entered the house. She was small, no taller than five and a half feet, with light blond hair. She smiled at Jack as he helped her with the bags and she straightened.
"Hello, Nora," Jack said. "Welcome to our home. This is my wife, Judy." Nora shook the woman's hand and offered a small smile. She was always nervous around new people, especially new people of the Gellers' high class. "Those are our children, Monica and Ross." Nora nodded and smiled in their direction. She turned to indicate behind her as a young man cautiously entered with a few bags slung over his shoulders and a couple more in his arms. He carefully placed the bags besides the others that had already been brought in, and Monica noted that he was quite well-built and tan, she assumed from working outside on the Delaney property.
"This is my son, Chandler," Nora introduced. He nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Geller and then toward Ross and Monica. When he first noticed Monica, he inadvertently allowed his gaze to linger on her a moment longer than he had on any of the others. She was beautiful, and not just average beautiful like most of the city girls. He quickly averted his gaze so as not to seem rude and he ran his hand nervously through his hair, figuring that this one was probably no different from the rest: snobby and shallow.
"Well, Nora, why don't you let Judy show you around the house and I'll take Chandler to his room?" Jack suggested. Nora nodded agreeably and picked up her suitcases.
"I'll bring them for you, Mom," Chandler assured her, gently taking the bag from her grasp. "You just go get settled and I'll bring them up in a minute." Nora smiled gratefully and followed Judy up the stairs as Chandler turned and followed Jack toward what would be his room. Monica couldn't help smiling at how kind he seemed and although she wouldn't quite allow herself to admit it, he was quite handsome as well.
"Can I get you anything?" Monica asked timidly after she had knocked on Chandler's door. He opened it and smiled kindly.
"No, I'm quite well, thank you, miss." Monica smiled and shifted her weight slightly.
"Is the room all right?" Chandler glanced around at the dim room and nodded.
"Yep, it's great." Monica nodded and just before she turned to leave, her eyes fell on a book that was sitting on his small bed.
"You like Chaucer?" she asked, slightly surprised. She'd never met a person of hired help who read much. Bessie hadn't even known how to read anything more than cooking ingredients and basic things necessary in housekeeping. Chandler nodded.
"I've just finished the 'Canterbury Tales,'" he replied. "That was an excellent work. It started off with a knight--" He was cut off by Monica's indignant voice.
"I know, I read it." He looked at her skeptically.
"YOU read Chaucer?" She could feel a slightly irritated flush creeping up her neck.
"Why do you sound so surprised? Surely you don't think that simply because I'm a woman I can't read." His silence and half-amused look only irritated her further. "Typical," she muttered. "Thinks just like a typical man." With that, she turned on her heel and walked huffily away. Chandler tried to hide the grin that had spread across his face, but he failed miserably. He gently closed the door of his room and collapsed back onto the small bed and stared at the ceiling, a tiny smile still playing on his lips. Although they hadn't had an extremely significant encounter, there was something about her that was different from the Delaney daughters, as well as from virtually every other girl in their circle. When she spoke he noticed a sparkle in her eyes and from her comments on Chaucer it was obvious that she was far from a flake. He grinned as he remembered how riled she'd gotten when she had assumed that his remark was a chauvinistic one.
"Perhaps I misjudged Miss Geller," he mused aloud as he rose to see what work needed to be done before supper.
"Chaucer?" Monica was interrupted from her reading by a voice, and as she squinted into the sun to see who was speaking, she had to force herself not to groan.
"Thoreau," she replied shortly. "'Walden Pond.'"
"Another great one," he said, lowering himself to sit next to her under the shady oak. She stared at him for a moment before speaking coolly.
"Shouldn't you be raking or something?" She herself hated how arrogant that sounded, but she told herself that she really couldn't care less what this boy thought. The fact that he didn't retaliate only annoyed her more. Instead, he offered her a lopsided grin and ran his hand through his hair. She had noticed over the course of the past few days that it seemed to be a habit of his.
"Nah, not really," he replied as he glanced around at the corner of the property. "Done. Taking a break before I start painting." Monica nodded slightly and looked back at her book, trying subtly to hint that she wished for him to leave. It turned out to be a hint that he apparently either didn't get or chose to ignore. "So, Miss Geller, what other books have you read?" It sounded like a challenge, and the playful and amused look in his eyes confirmed it as such.
"Name something," she replied coolly.
"A Tale of Two Cities."
"Read it," she replied curtly. He raised an eyebrow.
"The Odyssey."
"That one, too." He grinned and paused before speaking again.
"What'd you think of it?" She looked at him carefully to see if he was teasing her again, but he seemed to be genuinely interested.
"I thought it was excellent," she said after a moment. "The way the stories of gods and men were intertwined and the way so many little parts make it whole. And the part with the meeting between Penelope and her husband..." She trailed off and dropped her gaze to the ground, blushing. "I liked it," she said quietly.
"Me, too," he replied kindly. "And I know what you mean about the gods and the men... I love reading about the mythological stuff like that." When she noted the way in which he didn't tease her, most of her contempt for him seemed to fly away. She looked cautiously back up at him and smiled when she saw that he was once again offering her his warm lopsided grin. "I'm sorry about the other day," he said after a moment, still smiling. "I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't read because you're a woman. I was simply surprised... I mean, the Delaney girls never read anything more than letters and I most certainly never even saw Mrs. Delaney pick up a book."
"Yes, well, the Delaney girls are shallow," Monica replied curtly, immediately blushing as she did so. "I'm sorry, that was rude." Chandler laughed and shook his head.
"No, not rude. Very, very correct, in fact." Monica smiled appreciatively. "Listen," he said after a moment. "If you ever want to borrow a book, I have quite a few. I mean, you might have read them all, but I know that I'm always trying to get my hands on ones that I haven't already read..." He trailed off, and it was his turn to blush. He suddenly realized that he was out of line sitting under a tree with his boss's daughter acting as if they were equals. He stood abruptly, making some excuse about having to begin painting. Almost as if she were reading his mind, Monica smiled.
"Yes, well, I'd love to trade books sometime," she said affably. He offered the same cocky grin that she couldn't help liking and nodded as he headed toward the house to get the paint. As she watched him go, Monica couldn't help smiling. Finally she had someone to discuss intelligent topics with, even if it WAS the hired help. She shook her head, reprimanding herself. That was exactly the type of attitude that she detested in other people, and sometimes she found it creeping into her own life. She picked up her book once again and although she tried desperately to focus on it, she found her mind dancing between the words and Chandler's smile.
As he painted the side of Mr. Geller's shed, Chandler's mind drifted back to Monica. There was just something about her that was different from any of the other girls he'd come across. There was no doubt about the fact that she was beautiful -- her jet-black hair, while always tied back neatly, contrasted with her pale skin and rosy cheeks. There was a twinkle in her sky blue eyes that made it impossible for him to resist bantering with her, and the way she blushed only made her more beautiful. Apart from her looks, though, there was something else -- something much deeper. More than simply her literary habits, she was bright, and it was as though there was a constant fight going on within her own mind that he could clearly witness. While she obviously held matters of class in contempt, she struggled to always be polite and well-mannered. He thought it seemed that while she wanted to be able to break down barriers, she did not wish to be seen as unsophisticated or crude, and it was a combination that he found endearing. He shook his head slightly as he resumed the brushstrokes. "Don't even think about it," he warned himself, knowing fully well how out-of-the-question it was for him to even entertain the thought of someone like Monica Geller as attainable.
He opened his door the next evening and smiled easily when he saw Monica on the other side. "Miss Geller."
"Hello, Chandler." Monica stood uneasily, the lantern in her hand illuminating his features. In the warm light, she noted again how handsome he was and she blushed, averting her gaze. "I, um, finished 'Walden Pond.'" Chandler nodded. "Have you read it?"
"Actually, no," he replied, still smiling. She extended the book toward him and he accepted it graciously. "Thank you. Would you like to come in and see if I have any that would interest you?" Monica looked at him skeptically, knowing how inappropriate it would be of her to enter a man's bedroom, even a man of a lower class. Suddenly feeling defiant at being restrained, she nodded nervously and stepped inside the small space. There was a lantern on the small bedside stand and it cast a warm glow about the room. Her eyes fell on a small shelf that held many books, and she looked at him evenly. He indicated toward the shelf and grinned. "Help yourself." She smiled back at him and walked slowly toward the small library. After scanning his collection, she timidly removed one and looked at it curiously.
"'Huckleberry Finn?'" She looked up at him and he knelt beside her.
"Yes, that's my newest one. It was only first published seven years ago. The same man who wrote 'Tom Sawyer.' Personally, I prefer this one. Maybe because it delves into the matters of status." He threw a sideways glance at her, and noticed a flicker in her eyes and briefly wondered what it meant. His comment seemed to seal the deal, though, and she looked at him like a child who had found a treasure.
"May I borrow this one then?" He grinned.
"Of course." She smiled back and tucked the book gently under her arm. "Thank you, Chandler."
"You're welcome, Miss Geller." She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again.
"You know, I'd really like it if you would call me Monica." He looked at her skeptically.
"Well, I don't know how anyone else would feel about that," he said carefully.
"I don't care how anyone else would feel about that," she retorted, her fiery spirit showing itself once again.
"Well," he said quietly, "I don't want to upset people, or to lose my job." She looked at him silently for a moment.
"Well, when we are alone then? When no one else is about will you call me Monica?" He smiled, saying nothing. "If not," she threatened, "I shall resort to calling you 'Mr. Tyler.'"
"That would be slightly wrong," he said, trying to hide a grin. She looked at him challengingly. "My surname isn't Tyler," he explained. "It's Bing."
"Bing?" she repeated, confused. He nodded.
"Yeah, Chandler Bing. Quite a mouthful, I know. Bing was my father's surname, and when he left it was just easier to keep my own name." Monica blushed, uncomfortable at bringing up such a personal subject, and she dropped her eyes to the ground.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Her peripheral vision noticed him shrug nonchalantly and she looked up.
"Don't worry about it," he said, continuing after a moment. "Okay... Monica. I will refer to you as such when no one else is around." She smiled, happy at having won, and nodded.
"Thank you. Goodnight, Chandler."
"Goodnight, Monica." She smiled again and left his room quietly, tiptoeing back up the stairs so as not to wake her family or Nora. As she took off her dressing gown, leaving her only in her nightdress, she crawled into bed and set the lantern on her bedside table and then picked up the book Chandler had given her. She opened it to the first page and frowned as a small leaf of folded paper fell out. As she picked it up and opened it, she blushed and then smiled broadly as she read it. "I knew you'd pick this one, Miss Geller." He'd signed it across the bottom in a scrawling penmanship, and she felt goose bumps rise on her skin. The note itself had made her heart flutter, and she shivered again as she placed the book on her nightstand and blew out the lantern. She buried herself among the covers and smiled to herself in the darkness, glad to have found a companion in Chandler Bing. She found herself wishing that her parents were going to marry her off to someone like him who would appreciate her love for books and who would offer interesting conversation. She shook her head, embarrassed at her own thoughts, and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to go to sleep. "He's a land worker," she said to herself, yawning. But despite his social status, she knew that he was much more than that, and as she drifted off she found herself lost in images of his playful blue eyes and the way he ran his hand shyly through his sandy brown hair.
DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS PORTRAYED IN THIS FIC DO NOT BELONG TO ME. NOT IN REALITY, ANYWAY. DREAMS ARE ANOTHER MATTER.
Background: This fic takes place in New York in 1892 and is only intended as a work of fiction. Any parallels to other persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. (Although that would be cool, in that it'd make me kind of psychic... hmmm.... realizes people are staring.) ::Clearing throat:: Anyway, the Gellers are a highly respected family... Mr. Geller is a wealthy business tycoon and Mrs. Geller is a housewife (as I think most women of noble status were in those days). Monica and Ross are... well, their children. (Bet you didn't see that coming.) The rest of the characters will be introduced in due course... I am not yet sure of Phoebe and Joey's role in this fic, but it will get figured out as I go along.
Love Against All Odds
Chapter One
"This couldn't come at a worse time," Judy Geller sighed as she sat in the front room of her house with her husband. "I mean, really, with Monica's debut coming up and Ross preparing for college, I could have done without having to find another maid." Jack Geller took a sip of his brandy.
"Don't fret, dear," he said comfortingly as he turned the page of his newspaper. "Bessie isn't the only available help. She can be replaced." Judy sighed again.
"I know. It's just that she's leaving tomorrow. What am I going to do until we find a replacement?" Jack put the paper down and leaned back thoughtfully.
"Well, the smaller tasks Monica can help you with, and I'll go downtown first thing in the morning and look into finding a replacement, all right?" Judy nodded agreeably as her husband picked up the paper once again. The idea of doing household chores herself sickened her, and she hoped that Jack would find a suitable replacement soon.
"How did it go?" Judy asked hopefully when Jack returned home the next evening.
"Quite well, in fact," he replied with a smile. "Apparently John Delaney has been letting some of his help go since the children have moved out. Why, just yesterday he decided to dismiss a woman who had been working for him for about two years. She comes highly recommended, and she also has a son. John says the boy is quite adept at keeping his land and making the property look presentable." Judy nodded slowly.
"And the woman?"
"John said that Charlotte was very happy with her," he replied. "Apparently her husband ran off and left her with the boy when he was quite young." Judy shook her head and made a "tsk tsk" sound.
"Honestly, those people," she said with her ever-present air of superiority. "Well, I suppose we should call the woman and make the arrangements. She can sleep in Bessie's old room, and the boy can have the old butler's quarters downstairs. It hasn't been cleaned since Jeffrey left, but a quick cleaning and it'll do." She turned to leave the room and paused momentarily. "What is the woman's name, anyhow?"
"Nora," Jack replied after a moment. "Nora Tyler." After another pause he scratched his head. "Son has a strange name. Something beginning with a 'C.'" He shrugged. "Well, we'll find out tomorrow. I told John to send her around so that we can meet her." Judy nodded, thankful that he'd been so quick in finding help and that she wouldn't have to do any more housework than she'd done already.
"Monica, dear, do sit up straight," Judy commented. "Honestly, you look like an old spinster when you hunch over like that." Monica obliged wordlessly. She was used to her mother's criticisms, and while she took them with a grain of salt, she never allowed the comments to upset her. She smoothed the front of her frock carefully as she sat on the bench in the den awaiting the arrival of the new maid. She wished she could go back to reading her book, but she knew that giving all guests, regardless of their status, a proper welcome was something that her mother insisted upon. As she sat on the green velvet bench, she allowed her mind to drift back to the story she had been engrossed in before her father summoned her downstairs. While her mother said that no good ever came of reading and that girls should simply see to household and family duties, Monica couldn't help herself when it came to books. Even when she was younger she would take Ross's books when he was done reading them and read them herself. She'd always been envious that he'd gotten to continue with his schooling. When she'd turned sixteen, her mother had said that since she wouldn't be going to college, there was really no point in her continuing her education. More than anything, Monica wanted to go to college and live an educated life. The idea of living as her mother had, subservient to her husband's wishes and demands, was something that made her feel trapped, and she dreaded the day when she would be married. Most of the girls her age, especially her best friend Rachel, looked forward to being married and starting a family. In Monica's eyes it was a form of imprisonment, and while she had tried to convince her parents that it would be worthwhile for her to continue learning, they had thought it absurd and had put a stop to her "ridiculous ideas." She was painfully aware of the fact that they planned to marry her off to Peter Becker, a wealthy banker whose father had been a good friend of Jack Geller's. In her parents' minds, he was perfect for their only daughter: rich and successful and of a high esteem. The fact that she didn't love him and could barely even tolerate him was of no concern to them. She was brought back to reality when she heard the doorbell chime and she rose politely to greet their new residents.
"John!" she heard her father say when he opened the door.
"Afternoon, Jack," came the reply. Jack stood back and held open the door so that the people on the other side could enter. Monica tried inconspicuously to crane her neck so that she could see them, but not obviously enough to make herself appear unrefined. She noted out of the corner of her eye the way in which her brother straightened his tie and straightened his jacket and she couldn't help feeling a certain amount of contempt toward him. Although he was her brother and she loved him, it got on her nerves the way he bought into all the social-class business. He was the kind of guy for whom she held a somewhat strong resentment simply because he refused to look past the lines of status, but in spite of this, she loved him anyway. When she was younger and would get muddy running around and would ruin one of her frilly dresses, he would sneak her back into the house and help her get cleaned up so that her parents wouldn't notice. When she stole her dad's pipe to play with and broke it, Ross took the blame for her. Still, sometimes she wished that he could be a little less arrogant. Her contempt for the social life and his embracement of it had created somewhat of a rift between them, and although it was a small one, she hated the fact that she was the black sheep of the family. "This is Nora." Her thoughts were interrupted once again by John Delaney's voice. She watched intently as a woman lugging a couple of bags entered the house. She was small, no taller than five and a half feet, with light blond hair. She smiled at Jack as he helped her with the bags and she straightened.
"Hello, Nora," Jack said. "Welcome to our home. This is my wife, Judy." Nora shook the woman's hand and offered a small smile. She was always nervous around new people, especially new people of the Gellers' high class. "Those are our children, Monica and Ross." Nora nodded and smiled in their direction. She turned to indicate behind her as a young man cautiously entered with a few bags slung over his shoulders and a couple more in his arms. He carefully placed the bags besides the others that had already been brought in, and Monica noted that he was quite well-built and tan, she assumed from working outside on the Delaney property.
"This is my son, Chandler," Nora introduced. He nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Geller and then toward Ross and Monica. When he first noticed Monica, he inadvertently allowed his gaze to linger on her a moment longer than he had on any of the others. She was beautiful, and not just average beautiful like most of the city girls. He quickly averted his gaze so as not to seem rude and he ran his hand nervously through his hair, figuring that this one was probably no different from the rest: snobby and shallow.
"Well, Nora, why don't you let Judy show you around the house and I'll take Chandler to his room?" Jack suggested. Nora nodded agreeably and picked up her suitcases.
"I'll bring them for you, Mom," Chandler assured her, gently taking the bag from her grasp. "You just go get settled and I'll bring them up in a minute." Nora smiled gratefully and followed Judy up the stairs as Chandler turned and followed Jack toward what would be his room. Monica couldn't help smiling at how kind he seemed and although she wouldn't quite allow herself to admit it, he was quite handsome as well.
"Can I get you anything?" Monica asked timidly after she had knocked on Chandler's door. He opened it and smiled kindly.
"No, I'm quite well, thank you, miss." Monica smiled and shifted her weight slightly.
"Is the room all right?" Chandler glanced around at the dim room and nodded.
"Yep, it's great." Monica nodded and just before she turned to leave, her eyes fell on a book that was sitting on his small bed.
"You like Chaucer?" she asked, slightly surprised. She'd never met a person of hired help who read much. Bessie hadn't even known how to read anything more than cooking ingredients and basic things necessary in housekeeping. Chandler nodded.
"I've just finished the 'Canterbury Tales,'" he replied. "That was an excellent work. It started off with a knight--" He was cut off by Monica's indignant voice.
"I know, I read it." He looked at her skeptically.
"YOU read Chaucer?" She could feel a slightly irritated flush creeping up her neck.
"Why do you sound so surprised? Surely you don't think that simply because I'm a woman I can't read." His silence and half-amused look only irritated her further. "Typical," she muttered. "Thinks just like a typical man." With that, she turned on her heel and walked huffily away. Chandler tried to hide the grin that had spread across his face, but he failed miserably. He gently closed the door of his room and collapsed back onto the small bed and stared at the ceiling, a tiny smile still playing on his lips. Although they hadn't had an extremely significant encounter, there was something about her that was different from the Delaney daughters, as well as from virtually every other girl in their circle. When she spoke he noticed a sparkle in her eyes and from her comments on Chaucer it was obvious that she was far from a flake. He grinned as he remembered how riled she'd gotten when she had assumed that his remark was a chauvinistic one.
"Perhaps I misjudged Miss Geller," he mused aloud as he rose to see what work needed to be done before supper.
"Chaucer?" Monica was interrupted from her reading by a voice, and as she squinted into the sun to see who was speaking, she had to force herself not to groan.
"Thoreau," she replied shortly. "'Walden Pond.'"
"Another great one," he said, lowering himself to sit next to her under the shady oak. She stared at him for a moment before speaking coolly.
"Shouldn't you be raking or something?" She herself hated how arrogant that sounded, but she told herself that she really couldn't care less what this boy thought. The fact that he didn't retaliate only annoyed her more. Instead, he offered her a lopsided grin and ran his hand through his hair. She had noticed over the course of the past few days that it seemed to be a habit of his.
"Nah, not really," he replied as he glanced around at the corner of the property. "Done. Taking a break before I start painting." Monica nodded slightly and looked back at her book, trying subtly to hint that she wished for him to leave. It turned out to be a hint that he apparently either didn't get or chose to ignore. "So, Miss Geller, what other books have you read?" It sounded like a challenge, and the playful and amused look in his eyes confirmed it as such.
"Name something," she replied coolly.
"A Tale of Two Cities."
"Read it," she replied curtly. He raised an eyebrow.
"The Odyssey."
"That one, too." He grinned and paused before speaking again.
"What'd you think of it?" She looked at him carefully to see if he was teasing her again, but he seemed to be genuinely interested.
"I thought it was excellent," she said after a moment. "The way the stories of gods and men were intertwined and the way so many little parts make it whole. And the part with the meeting between Penelope and her husband..." She trailed off and dropped her gaze to the ground, blushing. "I liked it," she said quietly.
"Me, too," he replied kindly. "And I know what you mean about the gods and the men... I love reading about the mythological stuff like that." When she noted the way in which he didn't tease her, most of her contempt for him seemed to fly away. She looked cautiously back up at him and smiled when she saw that he was once again offering her his warm lopsided grin. "I'm sorry about the other day," he said after a moment, still smiling. "I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't read because you're a woman. I was simply surprised... I mean, the Delaney girls never read anything more than letters and I most certainly never even saw Mrs. Delaney pick up a book."
"Yes, well, the Delaney girls are shallow," Monica replied curtly, immediately blushing as she did so. "I'm sorry, that was rude." Chandler laughed and shook his head.
"No, not rude. Very, very correct, in fact." Monica smiled appreciatively. "Listen," he said after a moment. "If you ever want to borrow a book, I have quite a few. I mean, you might have read them all, but I know that I'm always trying to get my hands on ones that I haven't already read..." He trailed off, and it was his turn to blush. He suddenly realized that he was out of line sitting under a tree with his boss's daughter acting as if they were equals. He stood abruptly, making some excuse about having to begin painting. Almost as if she were reading his mind, Monica smiled.
"Yes, well, I'd love to trade books sometime," she said affably. He offered the same cocky grin that she couldn't help liking and nodded as he headed toward the house to get the paint. As she watched him go, Monica couldn't help smiling. Finally she had someone to discuss intelligent topics with, even if it WAS the hired help. She shook her head, reprimanding herself. That was exactly the type of attitude that she detested in other people, and sometimes she found it creeping into her own life. She picked up her book once again and although she tried desperately to focus on it, she found her mind dancing between the words and Chandler's smile.
As he painted the side of Mr. Geller's shed, Chandler's mind drifted back to Monica. There was just something about her that was different from any of the other girls he'd come across. There was no doubt about the fact that she was beautiful -- her jet-black hair, while always tied back neatly, contrasted with her pale skin and rosy cheeks. There was a twinkle in her sky blue eyes that made it impossible for him to resist bantering with her, and the way she blushed only made her more beautiful. Apart from her looks, though, there was something else -- something much deeper. More than simply her literary habits, she was bright, and it was as though there was a constant fight going on within her own mind that he could clearly witness. While she obviously held matters of class in contempt, she struggled to always be polite and well-mannered. He thought it seemed that while she wanted to be able to break down barriers, she did not wish to be seen as unsophisticated or crude, and it was a combination that he found endearing. He shook his head slightly as he resumed the brushstrokes. "Don't even think about it," he warned himself, knowing fully well how out-of-the-question it was for him to even entertain the thought of someone like Monica Geller as attainable.
He opened his door the next evening and smiled easily when he saw Monica on the other side. "Miss Geller."
"Hello, Chandler." Monica stood uneasily, the lantern in her hand illuminating his features. In the warm light, she noted again how handsome he was and she blushed, averting her gaze. "I, um, finished 'Walden Pond.'" Chandler nodded. "Have you read it?"
"Actually, no," he replied, still smiling. She extended the book toward him and he accepted it graciously. "Thank you. Would you like to come in and see if I have any that would interest you?" Monica looked at him skeptically, knowing how inappropriate it would be of her to enter a man's bedroom, even a man of a lower class. Suddenly feeling defiant at being restrained, she nodded nervously and stepped inside the small space. There was a lantern on the small bedside stand and it cast a warm glow about the room. Her eyes fell on a small shelf that held many books, and she looked at him evenly. He indicated toward the shelf and grinned. "Help yourself." She smiled back at him and walked slowly toward the small library. After scanning his collection, she timidly removed one and looked at it curiously.
"'Huckleberry Finn?'" She looked up at him and he knelt beside her.
"Yes, that's my newest one. It was only first published seven years ago. The same man who wrote 'Tom Sawyer.' Personally, I prefer this one. Maybe because it delves into the matters of status." He threw a sideways glance at her, and noticed a flicker in her eyes and briefly wondered what it meant. His comment seemed to seal the deal, though, and she looked at him like a child who had found a treasure.
"May I borrow this one then?" He grinned.
"Of course." She smiled back and tucked the book gently under her arm. "Thank you, Chandler."
"You're welcome, Miss Geller." She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again.
"You know, I'd really like it if you would call me Monica." He looked at her skeptically.
"Well, I don't know how anyone else would feel about that," he said carefully.
"I don't care how anyone else would feel about that," she retorted, her fiery spirit showing itself once again.
"Well," he said quietly, "I don't want to upset people, or to lose my job." She looked at him silently for a moment.
"Well, when we are alone then? When no one else is about will you call me Monica?" He smiled, saying nothing. "If not," she threatened, "I shall resort to calling you 'Mr. Tyler.'"
"That would be slightly wrong," he said, trying to hide a grin. She looked at him challengingly. "My surname isn't Tyler," he explained. "It's Bing."
"Bing?" she repeated, confused. He nodded.
"Yeah, Chandler Bing. Quite a mouthful, I know. Bing was my father's surname, and when he left it was just easier to keep my own name." Monica blushed, uncomfortable at bringing up such a personal subject, and she dropped her eyes to the ground.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Her peripheral vision noticed him shrug nonchalantly and she looked up.
"Don't worry about it," he said, continuing after a moment. "Okay... Monica. I will refer to you as such when no one else is around." She smiled, happy at having won, and nodded.
"Thank you. Goodnight, Chandler."
"Goodnight, Monica." She smiled again and left his room quietly, tiptoeing back up the stairs so as not to wake her family or Nora. As she took off her dressing gown, leaving her only in her nightdress, she crawled into bed and set the lantern on her bedside table and then picked up the book Chandler had given her. She opened it to the first page and frowned as a small leaf of folded paper fell out. As she picked it up and opened it, she blushed and then smiled broadly as she read it. "I knew you'd pick this one, Miss Geller." He'd signed it across the bottom in a scrawling penmanship, and she felt goose bumps rise on her skin. The note itself had made her heart flutter, and she shivered again as she placed the book on her nightstand and blew out the lantern. She buried herself among the covers and smiled to herself in the darkness, glad to have found a companion in Chandler Bing. She found herself wishing that her parents were going to marry her off to someone like him who would appreciate her love for books and who would offer interesting conversation. She shook her head, embarrassed at her own thoughts, and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to go to sleep. "He's a land worker," she said to herself, yawning. But despite his social status, she knew that he was much more than that, and as she drifted off she found herself lost in images of his playful blue eyes and the way he ran his hand shyly through his sandy brown hair.