Drabbles Three: House-Hunting

Marie Giry felt like she'd been searching for ages. It had been two months since Erik had relegated this assignment to her, and she wasn't getting anywhere. Of course, that wasn't her fault. She would have been finished within a week if Erik hadn't been so picky about everything. "It is to be my first real home," he had said, "and Danielle's, too. It has to be perfect." At least he could have had the decency not to guilt her into it.

When she thought about how the couple had lived their lives before meeting each other, she didn't have the heart to give up. God only knew what Erik had gone through before (and after) making his home in the opera, and she had never gotten the nerve to ask about his travels in Persia. As for Danielle, the poor girl had lived with a family that resented her, a boarding-school in which she didn't belong, and a dressing room with no furniture except a lumpy couch, a vanity, and a chair that threatened to break under even Danielle's slight form. Finally, she had ended up in Erik's underground grotto that was at least comfortable and relatively safe.

Erik wanted their new home to be furnished already, so they wouldn't have to worry about finding proper furniture. She couldn't blame him there. It wasn't as if he could simply walk into the nearest store and order everything he desired. However, the furnishings had to be correct. Nothing too plain, but nothing too extravagant. Nothing too cheap, but nothing too fussy. It had to be on the outskirts of the city and fairly isolated. Two stories, or none, at all. Marie would bring back detailed descriptions of every room, and nothing would satisfy him. Danielle was easily pleased, but her perfectionist husband was anything but.

Marie had one more stop for the day, and if it didn't satisfy Erik, she would tell him she was through. Her carriage drove down a long driveway, surrounded by trees. It was about a mile from the nearest house. Marie glanced out the window to peek at the house, and she got goose bumps. The dwelling was two stories, and it stood on the edge of a picturesque wood like a sentry guarding the gateway to a fantastical world, which is exactly what Erik would make it.

The windows were large and open. The gabled windows rose toward the sky like a child's face looking up at a cloud. There was a long porch with Doric columns dutifully holding up the roof. Marie had a feeling Erik would like this house, and Danielle would love it.

Her driver handed Marie out of the carriage, and the owner of the house ushered her into the hall. He was bowing and offering her tea while commenting on the graciousness of her visit. Apparently, few people had come to see the house since it was so far from the city. He was exceedingly grateful for her interest. He was so grateful, in fact, that it was giving her a headache.

Marie declined the offer of tea. She was anxious to see the rest of the rooms.

The parlor was very nice. The brocade sofa had a demure floral pattern, and there were four matching chairs. A few spindly-legged tables completed the set of furniture. She noticed a few quaint pastoral paintings framed with wood. She would have to remember that there were three. No doubt, Erik would wish to replace them with his own pieces, eventually.

Next, she saw the dining room. It comprised of one long table that would seat ten. Marie had a feeling that it would see little use beyond the happy couple, Nadir Khan, and herself. The china and silverware were quite lovely, and expensive-looking, but the host assured her that the house would be affordable. She idly wondered how he could possibly know what was affordable for her, but she said nothing on the subject. It would definitely be affordable to a member of the crowned heads of Europe, but would an eccentric composer afford it?

The study consisted of a small sofa, a writing desk, and a few chairs. The color scheme was hunter green and brown. The master bedroom was luxuriously decorated with golden wall sconces, a few watercolors, a king-sized bed, a dresser, a chest of drawers, and a large vanity. There was a bathroom with running water adjoining it. She commented on the rarity of finding a house so far from Paris with running water, and the host explained that it came from a lake hidden by the woods. It did require some maintenance, once in a while, but he found that it was quite worth the trouble, especially since it ran hot or cold.

She briefly looked on a few of the guest bedrooms, but she felt that she must be getting back to the opera house. No doubt, Erik would be very interested to hear all of the particulars of this estate. She fervently hoped this would finally be the one to please him.

It turned out that Erik took an avid interest in the house. He seemed more excited than he had since she had first taken up the task of finding them a proper home. Danielle looked extremely relieved. She had begun to believe that they would never get out of the cellars. Of course, she loved the cellars; their mystery and romance were awe-inspiring, and she couldn't imagine being anything but happy to be wherever Erik happened to be. However, the dampness and darkness were getting to her. Sometimes it felt as if she would never get the cold out of her bones. Then Erik would take care of that, but that was an entirely different story, one which she felt embarrassed to think about in front of Marie.

Now it looked as if they would finally have a home in the sun. They might even get to spend a little time at the very tail-end of summer there. It was a pity that their first experiences with the place would probably be accompanied by autumn and winter, but they would still have a nice, cozy niche for themselves.

"Marie, I want you to make the first payment tomorrow, if you can," Erik said. "And see if you can hire some servants. Immigrants, perhaps. Immigrants probably wouldn't know anything about me, or the opera. Above all else, I want no suspicion to fall on us." He paused, considering this idea.

"I don't want anyone who came to France before six months ago," he continued thoughtfully. "The later, the better. Of course, it would be beneficial if they could speak French, but Italian would do. We can both speak that. And give them decent wages, Marie. I don't want my servants starving, or ragged. We'll need at least two maids, a cook, a butler, and a driver. That would probably cover us, for the time being. If you can, hire a whole family. That should make them happier to work for us."

"Oh, Erik," Danielle whispered. "You're always so considerate."

Marie grew a little uncomfortable when she saw the way Erik was now eyeing his wife. She cleared her throat. "I'll see what I can do, Erik."