He was tired; Constance had had the day off so he didn't have the privilege of eating lunch with his wife. He dealt with several of the manager's mistakes, the managers no longer shamelessly disobeyed his orders because he never gave them anymore but they still got on his nerves. Erik wearily rode his faithful Ella back to his home on the other northern side of town. At least he'd be met by the dazzling beauty of his loving wife.
He just wanted to be back with her in their secluded home. Her soft skin and gentle caress always soothed his wrecked nerves. He imagined her plump lips lovingly smiling as he entered the house. Combersville slowly went by as he allowed Ella to take her time getting back. He enjoyed the ride through the woods to the house. The birds sang overhead and flew in flirtatious patterns with their mates.
The home rolled into view and Erik unleashed a sigh of relief. Ella habitually walked past the unfinished front fence and took a right to the humbly built stable and entered, stopping for her master to dismount. Constance was already there, she was brushing her grey speckled stallion. The stunning red head turned and smiled at her husband. Even in her work clothes she looked breath taking, but he never forgot the way she looked when he first saw her in a dress. It was at the New Year's Mask.
He was mingling with crowd, taking advantage of one of the few times of the year he never got strange looks for walking about in a mask. He heard the familiar tinkle of her laughter. He didn't have to look hard to find the dark red hair that belonged to Constance O'Rally. She danced joyfully with Michal one of the male dancers. I knew his name because he was actually quite respectable, not in the art for the mere reason of being able to fondle the enticing body of a pretty ballerina and not getting slapped. He loved the art and that made Erik favor him. Erik never troubled the honest man.
But Constance… Erik never looked at women in such ways but she looked absolutely flawless. He admitted that Constance was literally one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. She was wearing a dress that tastefully showed off her perfect hourglass figure and the neckline was moderately low, revealing the lovely paleness of her breasts. He had nearly forgotten his reason for being there upon catching sight of his rough and tumble friend. But he shook off his distraction and made his way up the back stairs so he could make his dramatic appearance to present his opera.
And as he did, he found his eyes wavering to Constance. Her stunning green eyes stared at him in wonder behind the gold and white mask, she lowered it and he saw her face in full, staring at her full pink lips in wonder as he walked down the steps.
It was the first spark he felt for the Irish painter. For weeks after he found himself thinking about her unexpectedly. Every time he looked at a painting he thought of her. But he knew that someone like her would never even think about it. Constance befriending him after what he had done to her surprised him enough, so he kept at Christine. The soprano owed him at least this much.
But the night Constance told him she loved him his heart nearly collapsed in on itself walking back with the seemingly broken painter walking slowly behind him. Behind her eyes however was a bright glow.
And that glow never went out. It shone strongly now as he walked down the corridor of stables to his wife and kissed her, loving the taste of lemon and honey that lingered on her lips from an early evening tea. He touched her neck as she replied gently. The two pulled away.
"How was work?" She asked. Erik smiled; the low alto of his wife's voice was the sound of a merciful and sweet goddess to his ears.
"Challenging. The managers nearly broke the bank; thankfully I got ahold of the papers before they were sent to the bank. I really question how those two got rich enough to buy the opera house. From selling junk-"
"Scrap metal!" Constance said in her best Andre impersonation, which was actually one of the funniest things Erik had seen all day. (That and catching the new patron fall up the steps while chasing after a ballerina.)
"From selling 'scrap metal' to doing a horrible job at balancing a check book it seems nearly impossible to own the Opera House." Erik continued after getting a grip on his excessive laughter. Constance's giggle was like the ring of bells.
"How is Aidan adjusting?" Constance asked, she had been busy all day yesterday and she had just got back to work because the season started and she hadn't gotten a chance to speak with her brother.
"I stopped by his station today. Since his French is still a little challenged he hasn't really spoken to anyone." Erik said, wrapping one of her shiny curls around his finger. Constance gave a frown, clicking her tongue.
"If he were to actually speak to someone his French might get better." Constance complained. Erik smiled a little more.
"What? That's how my French started to get better!" She replied. He remembered her first arrival well. He now looked upon it with fond warmth.
He was walking on the high cat walk, annoyedly watching Buquet unceremoniously flirt with the ballerinas (without success to Erik's pleasure.) Hugh Morlean walked into the auditorium with a fiery haired woman wearing black trousers and a white button up shirt. He watched her with intrigue. She had a lovely cream skin tone, the woman would be quite beautiful if she actually dressed as one should. Everyone fell silent as Hugh called for attention.
"Friends, this is Constance O'Rally. She's an Irish painter who has come to replace Lou as the head backdrop painter. She is quite talented and the staff expects you to treat her with great respect. The Opera House hasn't seen a painter like her in years." Hugh told the crew. Buquet stared at her with the same lust he as he bequeathed on every other woman of good physique and fair face. It made Erik seethe. The man had no respect for women. The so far silent woman stepped forth and in clumsy French greeted everyone with a warm Irish brogue. She had a pleasant voice that Erik identified as low alto. He was interested as to what the woman could do with a paintbrush. Surely Lefevre wouldn't have hired a woman unless she was spectacular and put all the men who tried out for the job to shame.
He then realized that O'Rally was a faintly familiar name and that it was an artist whom it belonged to, if she were related she might be worth a try. If not she would be chased out by Erik.
He was brought out of his thoughts as the sharp sound of skin hitting skin reverberated around the auditorium and furious Irish was spat from the red head as she turned and stormed into the wings.
"INSOLENT DRUNKEN PIG!" Was the main phrase Erik caught from the painter. His interest sparked and he quickly followed after Constance. He grabbed a rope that hung to the ground and slid down unseen and followed after her, actually passing her at one point and not stopping until he had realized that he had indeed surpassed her when he was in the shadows of the grand foyer, standing under the staircase.
"I knew I shouldn't have left Ireland. Colin was right. France is full of perverted men. What was that, the sixth time?" He heard her talking to herself. She really did have a pleasant voice. She stopped right in front of Erik, in turn the Phantom receded deeper underneath the staircase.
"Constance?" He heard the heavenly voice of his pupil call; Christine flitted into the grand foyer, grabbing the Irishwoman's arm.
"Oh, hello, lassie." Constance told the brunette charmingly. He really did enjoy the Gaelic that the Irish spoke.
"You shouldn't let Buquet get to you. He was never really raised to respect women. Everyone else here will more than likely respect you, especially us ballerinas. We all hate the way he treats us and seeing you handle him that way put you in our instant favor. Won't you stay?" Christine asked, practically batting her eyes at the interesting painter. Constance was quiet for a moment.
"I suppose so. I always look for ways to prove my brother wrong." Constance told Erik's beloved pupil. This caused Christine to smile in a way that made Erik's heart beat a little faster.
"Wonderful. Come with me and let me introduce you to the other ballerinas." Christine told Constance, pulling her new found friend back in the direction of the stage.
Erik had a feeling that things were going to be a bit more interesting with a rugged individual such as Constance O'Rally around.
The beautiful little Irish woman now cuddled with him in their bed, she was sound asleep but he always took a while to fall asleep, with or without Constance. The differences between his sleep schedule before and after Constance were like black and white. Before he hated lying in bed and being alone in the large swan bed in his lair. He had dreaded closing his eyes for sleep and waking up the next day and being still alone. After they met he was a bit more enthusiastic. He didn't mind sleeping because he knew he had a friend who he could speak with in the next day. And after they had started courting he had slept joyfully, enjoying the dreams of his Irish beauty. But when they married, sharing a bed with a living breathing woman who was soft and warm and waking up the next day to the same way he had fallen asleep was the most invigorating thing since Erik had discovered music.
He recalled her telling him of her own loneliness. Her story of coming to Paris with her good friend was one more of adventure than a quest for love.
It started with her arguing with Colin.
"I just don't trust you with those French perverts, Constance!" Colin yelled. Constance glared in anger.
"You won't have a thing to worry about, if no Irishman will even look my direction why would a Frenchman surrounded by beautiful Frenchwomen even think about touching me? You're just angry because I'm getting out of here and that you can't control me anymore!" Constance shouted. The carriage whistle sounded from outside and the two held a very angry stare before the younger of the two picked up her bag and stormed out of the house. She entered the freezing spring showers and hurried to the carriage. The door opened from the inside and Nolan was revealed. She threw her bag in and sat down heavily on the seat opposing her friend.
"How did Colin take it?" He asked. Constance gave an angry sigh and looked out the carriage to her childhood home. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
"No one else had a problem with it. Colin's excuse is that he 'doesn't trust those French perverts.'" Constance told him. Nolan blushed shook his head.
"Why has he always tried to control you?" He asked.
"Because I'm this generation's painter and Mother thought he was until I was born. He's trying to control me because he thinks it'll make up for me replacing him." Constance spat as the carriage pulled off her street.
The two got onto the ship and cast off about thirty minutes later. Constance was on deck, while Nolan was emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of the railing.
"Didn't Jonah know you were squeamish, Nolan?" Constance had asked him teasingly. Nolan managed to give her a glare before wretching again.
"His name is Jonah, Constance; would you want to be on the sea with that name?" Nolan replied as he wiped his mouth off.
"Ha-ha, that's funny. I think you volunteered to go see the French girls." Constance said as the two of them walked off deck and to their rooms. Thankfully Jonah had booked them first class so both of them would be enjoying a comfortable trip.
It was over before they knew it. Soon the lights of Cherbourg filled the dark horizon. Constance was eagerly jumping up and down with joy. A new place, new scenery, new people. New everything that meant Constance was new too. She was excited. The two only stayed on land long enough to get to the boat that would take them up Serine to Paris.
Constance nearly jumped off the ship to land and she took in the sights. She was finally glad to get off the water, from the ocean to the river, she had spent her fair share of sailing. The city definitely wasn't poor, not like her home town. Paris was easily one hundred times bigger than her home town.
She and Nolan went through the city by horse back. Constance had never seen so many people all at once. She was nearly overwhelmed. Constance couldn't wait to get to get to the hotel so she could write her brothers about the beautiful place.
Several weeks later when it was time to leave, Constance had decided to stay. She had seen an ad for the Opera Populaire, it was in dire need of a backdrop painter. She knew that she was meant to stay.
So these were the events that brought the two slowly but surely together.