Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Phantom of the Opera. Only original characters and concepts are mine.
AN: I'm sorry to say that, ever since Alice in Wonderland came out, I've lost interest in this story. My mind and creativity have officially been diverted to a story in the Alice category. To put it bluntly: my brain is in full "Alice" mode, and it's likely to stay there for a while. As a result, this story is going to be put on hold, or even deleted all together. I might just put an epilogue on A Twist of Destiny and get rid of this fic all together. For updates on this, please see my bio page.
In the meantime, please enjoy this chapter, and review if you'd like. Thanks.
Chapter 8: Friendships Forged:
It turned out that being friends with Arthur and Helena Russell was the best thing to happen to Erik, as well as myself, because it gave us other people to talk to and spend time with. Not that I'd ever admit to being tired of Erik's company, but sometimes a woman needs another female to chat with, for her sanity's sake.
The day they first came to see us, I escorted Helena to the downstairs parlor while Erik took Arthur up to his study. Tea was served, and we chatted of nothing in particular for about half an hour. After that, several awkward moments passed before Helena sighed, put down her tea cup, and looked me right in the eye.
"Dear, there's no reason for things to be uncomfortable between us," she boldly stated. "Let me start out with the facts: I know you are new to the privileged classes, and that you probably have no idea what to do with yourself. So, allow me to open a few doors for you."
I'd listened with rapt attention as Helen explained the many different things I could now do with myself. With her help, I would slowly be introduced to her social circle, which included the more intelligent members of society, ranging from opera lovers to scholars of the arts and history.
"But first, we must go shopping," Helen declared as we finished tea and went to join the men upstairs. "You need to shop with someone who knows the latest fashions, and although I'm sure your maid does a good job in helping you with that, you need someone who will give their honest opinion instead of passively agreeing with whatever colors or styles you pick out."
I blushed, both in anger and resentment. Nora had been very helpful in picking out dress materials and such, and I didn't like hearing anything said against her. In a way, Helen was right; maids often teetered between being brutally honest with their mistresses, or flattering them in order to keep their positions. A maid had to know when to keep their mouth shut for fear of angering their employer. However, Nora needn't fear that from me –I valued her opinion, which she was free and more than happy to give.
"Although my maid is quite capable of assisting me when it comes to finding gowns, I would like to go garment shopping with you," I diplomatically told my new friend.
Helen seemed to sense that she'd upset me, because she flinched. "Oh, dear, I've gone and assumed you were like the other fluff-headed women of the aristocracy. You probably like your maid and think of her as more than just a servant, just like Arthur and I do with ours. I'm sorry, Lisette, can you forgive me?"
She seemed sincere, but I was cautious in accepting her apology. I forgave her, and changed the topic back to shopping, which Helen agreed to help me with the following day.
My opinion of her grew more positive as we joined Arthur and Erik in the study, where they were going over the plans for the Russell's' new house. The men were both hunched over the drawings and talking back and forth, so focused that they didn't even notice our entrance.
"Oh, really," Helen muttered.
Walking over to the table in a huff, she planted herself opposite her husband and leaned forward, listening to what both men were talking over. I watched in amusement as she listened, nodded a few time, then spoke out.
"Arthur, you will do no such thing," she loudly declared, finally getting both men's attention. "I will not have naked, or nearly naked women painted on any of our walls, and certainly not in the dining room! Have you any idea what a scandal that would cause? If you don't choose a more appropriate design, then I will have the painters coat the walls in a somber shade of brown and be done with it."
"Yes, dear," Arthur sighed, looking properly chastised. "Though I'd hoped to at least have a few nymphs or goddesses painted on the walls. Perhaps in one of our private libraries, where no guests go?"
Helen rolled her eyes. "Arthur, darling, guests go everywhere, particularly into places you tell them are 'private.' You can be sure of that. However, I'm sure we can decide on something we both like. What have you both talked of so far?"
Both Erik and I exchanged amused glances as our friends talked and argued over the interior of their house. The show went on for about half an hour, and after Helen had agreed to not paint the drawing room pink, I asked them both to join us for dinner.
Their acceptance was one of the few things they'd agreed on the entire day.
Dinner proved to be beyond entertaining, with Arthur and Helena providing the funniest stories I'd ever heard, some of which included stuck up aristocrats making fools of themselves in public, like two countesses getting into a near fist-fight because of a single misplaced fan.
"One woman thought the other had stolen it, when it turned out the hostess's cat had snatched it and dragged it up a tree," Helen said, shaking her head. "Which is still very amusing, when you think about it."
And Arthur was more than happy to tell stories about their home in England, which he had left in the care of young Arthur Russell, their son. "Artie, we call him," Arthur explained. "Barely twenty, and far too sober and smart for his age. Helen is hoping that he'll marry a girl with a sense of humor to soften his shell a bit."
My friend rolled her eyes and sighed. "Artie is a brilliant boy, and has been since he was small. We did send him to Cambridge, like his father went to, but I think he's learned far more useful skills at home from our steward than he ever did at a fancy school. Lord knows Artie's putting those skills to work, and he's doing it splendidly." A sparkle in Helen's eyes spoke of her pride in her son. "Though I do wish he'd marry a cheerful girl with a sense of humor. He does need a spark in his life."
When dinner finished, we retired to the library, where Erik and Arthur immediately began browsing the shelves together, comparing authors and discussing topics that made me almost yawn in boredom. Helen winked at me and pulled me towards the fire, where she poured a glass of sweet cherry cordial for each of us.
"I hope I'm forgiven my uncalled for words in regards to your maid," she said, sipping her drink. "I, too, am fond of my maid, Phoebe, and will hear no one speak badly of her, so I understand how I must have upset you."
I nodded. "I am fond of Nora. She's a dear girl, and she's been invaluable to me since I've hired her."
Helen nodded. "I felt the same way about Phoebe, and in fact, I still feel that way about her. Perhaps we should introduce them; it would be good for them to have another maid to talk to. We can bring them along on our shopping trip, and see how they get along. What do you think?"
"That sounds wonderful," I said cheerfully. "Would tomorrow morning do? Then we can have lunch together afterwards."
"Agreed," Helen declared. We then clanked glasses and drank down the cordial.
As it turns out, shopping with Helen was officially not a good thing for my good economic sense. First, she was used to spending a fortune on all sorts of things, which I wasn't. Second, she tended to buy things she didn't need, which Mama had always frowned upon, a trait she had passed on to me.
Erik had warned me about this, and before Helen arrived to 'pick me up,' he had given me a small allowance to spend. Of course, this 'allowance' was more than I'd have spent in a month back in Paris, so I was having a hard time breaking all of the frugal habits I'd learned growing up. This was evident by the mountain of boxes being sent back to the Russell home while Nora walked behind me, a basket over her arm and five small boxes tucked inside it, underneath a protective cloth.
Helena seemed surprised at my thriftiness, and it took her a while to remember that I'd come from a more humble background than she and Arthur did. While she'd bought boxes full of dresses, ribbons, hats, shoes, and stockings, I'd been more selective and careful with my money, coming away with three new sets of stockings, some elegant lace ribbons, and some handkerchiefs for Erik.
As we made our way to lunch, with Nora and Phoebe (Helen's maid) trailing behind us, Helen linked arms with me, and proceeded to gently chastise my spending habits.
"Lissie," she said, "If you are going to fit into society, you must learn to spend your money like us. I'm sure there are many things you would like, and now that you've the means to do so, you are free to buy up as many dresses, hats, and ribbons as you please."
The thing was, I had no use for new dresses. Ball gowns and evening dresses for parties, yes, I could certainly use those, but why have three closets full of dresses, one for every day of the week? Back in the 21st century, I was content with jeans (Lord, did I miss having jeans!), and whatever shirt I pulled out of my closet. Here in this lifetime, I was happy with a simple walking dress and hat, and I did not need to wear a different dress every single day. Of course, I couldn't tell Helen that.
After lunch, Helena took me to the one place where I would happily spend a fortune: a bookshop. There, I pretty much emptied half my wallet, and I was rewarded with two free books by the owner because I'd bought so much. It took three strong young men to deliver my purchases to the house.
The final thing I bought was a very expensive writing set crafted from silver. Everything in the set, from the inkwell to the pen holders, was finely crafted, and the elaborate designs made me think of Erik. I immediately knew it would be my gift to him.
Satisfied that I'd managed to empty the purse that Erik had given me, Helena declared our shopping trip a success as she dropped me off back home. Nora and Phoebe exchanged farewells, and after seeing my friend off, I went upstairs and almost collapsed onto my bed, tired out of my wits.
"Oh, Madame, don't do that!" Nora groaned as she began unpacking the purchases she carried. "It'll take me ages to iron the wrinkles out of your dress!"
We heard a male chuckle from the doorway, and I quickly got off the bed to greet my husband, who caught me up in a swift kiss. "You do look exhausted, Lissie," Erik remarked, his face full of concern. "You did not buy too much, I hope." He looked over at Nora, who shook her head.
"Nothing more than a few stockings and lace ribbons, sir," she replied. "And a few handkerchiefs for you, as well as a few dozen books."
"Hmm, yes, that would explain why three lads brought half a library to the front door not long ago," Erik said, giving me a significant look. "Be careful not to buy every text in Venice, my dear. We only have so much room in the library."
"We could always convert a room into another library," I teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Indeed," he muttered with a grin. "Now, I'm off to finish the plans Arthur dictated to me this morning. I will see you at dinner. Meanwhile, I want you to rest. You look drained."
"You are a fortunate woman, Madame," Nora said, once Erik had left. "Not many men are so affectionate with their wives, though Lord Russell is an exception."
"True enough," I replied as she came to smooth out the crinkles in my skirts. "So, what shall we do now? Dinner isn't for hours yet, and I don't want to nap now."
We ended up in the downstairs library, seated by a cheerful fire as I read aloud to Nora, who sat at my feet, sewing my ribbons into cloth flowers to pin to my hats. She hadn't been read to since she was a child, and since I had experience in reading aloud to my sisters, I didn't mind doing it. Besides, it was a good book.
Dinner came and went, with Erik talking non-stop about his project for Arthur Russell. I understood none of it, but I was happy to see him so excited about something. Finally, people were going to appreciate his art and hard work!
As we settled into bed, me with Erik's strong arms around me, I knew that both of us were beginning to find real happiness and success in life.
Things seemed to take an even bigger swing upwards as our association with Arthur and Helena Russell deepened. Over the next few months, I was invited over to Helen's for teas, card parties, and other small gatherings several times a week, and met so many rich and aristocratic people that I couldn't remember half of their names. Luckily, those I couldn't remember were faint acquaintances of Helen, so I rarely saw them more than twice a month.
On the other hand, I met several noblewomen who were at least tolerable to be around, so I was fine with hanging out with them, at least for a few hours. With Helena to intervene if I became too annoyed with her guests, I usually ended up having a good time.
And I wasn't the only one making social acquaintances. Erik was doing a fairly good job of it himself, though he still tended to lean towards solitude and not socializing. Still, there was a lot of improving going on. With Arthur for a friend, Erik was practically dragged out of the shadows and thrust into the light. Arthur made sure to invite the two of us to the opera, the theater, and every party that he and Helen threw at their home. The Russell's also made sure to talk with us several times at these gatherings, and when people saw how talkative Erik and I were, they made sure to approach us.
And that was how Erik unintentionally started an architectural and interior design business inside his home office.
Erik stared at the plans lying on his desk and groaned. Honestly, he didn't know whether to thank Arthur for his patronage and friendship, or curse him.
"I knew social interaction was the wrong idea," he muttered, pushing a set of plans aside and rolling out a fresh sheet of paper.
Society was well and good for most folk, but for him and Lissie, Erik knew it wasn't really for them. Both he and his wife craved books, intelligent conversation, and people who didn't have fluff residing inside their heads. Unfortunately, most of those he met could not be described as 'clever,' though there were a few exceptions.
Thought months of going to parties, balls, theater outings and the opera, Erik and Lissie had been introduced to various rungs of the social ladder, most of whom were friends or business partners of the Russell's. And it was during a few of these gatherings that folks began asking Erik to help redesign the interiors of their homes.
Gossip had spread about the wealthy masked Frenchman and his charming wife, and many had made various inquiries about Monsieur and Madame Garnier. And since Arthur and Helena were more than thrilled with the designs Erik had made for them, the Russell's became founts of information, freely praising Erik's skills to anyone who asked about him.
Before he knew it, Erik's hobbies of architecture and design were out in the open, and now everyone wanted to hire him to remodel or decorate their summer homes, most of which were in other countries! They asked him to travel to these houses, but Erik refused to leave Lissie, so there was no way he was going to accept their employment offers, which he was surprised they'd made.
'Normally they'd just demand it as a 'favor' of sorts,' he thought, sketching a few lines. 'I remake a house for them, and they'd owe me a very large favor, or many small ones.'
The fact that the nobility and rich were willing to pay him for his efforts spoke volumes, both good and bad. It was good that they thought him talented enough to pay him, but on the other hand, it also meant that they likely saw him as nothing more than hired help. He might be as rich as them, but they probably did not see him as "one of them."
'If it weren't for Lissie, we wouldn't be nearly so accepted in society.'
He felt a swell of pride at that thought. His wife seemed to have a natural charm and knack when it came to dealing with the upper class, and the women were muttering both faint and strong praises about young Madame Garnier. The snobbier women thought Lissie to be relatively tolerable company, for a commoner, but even they had to admit that Lissie handled herself well in all social events.
'She's polite to even the rudest noble, she knows how to chat with others and keep them amused, and she is patient with the most foolish women in the aristocracy.'
Erik grinned. Well, she was patient, for the most part, but even Lissie's patience and tolerance for the idiotic had limits. Helena was doing a marvelous job in helping Lissie build up that patience, and often helped head off any outbursts that might embarrass anyone. Helen truly was an invaluable friend in that regard.
Again, he tossed aside the large sheet of paper, and groaned. 'I wish I could be as patient with those damned people. I've no stomach for foolish men and women with no sense of taste when it comes to decorating.'
Perhaps it had been a mistake in coming to Venice. It might have been better to purchase a house in the French or English countryside and settle down there, where there was no one they had to interact with, and no city bustling full of interfering people. He would have liked that just fine.
But would Lissie? She had grown up rather sheltered from most of the Populaire's workers, but she'd always had friends amongst the dancers and chorus girls. She was used to people, to talking with them, laughing with them, and even dancing with them at the yearly masquerade. Lissie needed people to talk with, even if her friends numbered by a handful.
'I know I promised us a new life and a new beginning,' he thought, heart heavy with guilt. 'But perhaps I was wrong about that.'
Going from an outcast to a much sought-after architect and designer was hard on his nerves. He knew that diving head-first into society was a foolish thing to do, and he'd intended to do it slowly. But with their friendship with the Russell's, he had though it would be easier to adjust to rush in. Now he was having regrets, and he desperately wished he could do this all over again.
"Erik?" an angelic voice called to him.
He looked up at the welcoming form of his wife. He had to admit, he was surprised that she was still home. It was late afternoon, and by now, she should have been having tea somewhere, or out shopping with Helena. Not that he resented her keeping busy –after all, it gave him time to himself, and a quiet atmosphere to work. But he missed her being in the house; it was as though the light went out of the villa whenever she left.
Right now, she was standing by his desk, smiling at him, and in her hands was a tray covered in food. "Deborah said you missed lunch today, so I thought I'd bring it up to you," Lissie said, setting the tray on his desk. "You know better than to miss meals."
Well, to hell with his work! If his wife was home, he was going to take advantage of the situation. "I will happily eat, if you'll join me."
"Only if you'll tell me what you're working on. You seem troubled."
Now, Erik knew she would not understand a word he said about architecture, but he needed to complain to someone, and Lissie was willing to hear him out, so why not? He blurted out his frustration to her, explaining that, given the layout and structure of the place, what this particular Count wanted for his summer home was impossible.
Lissie listened until he finished, then came and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You ask too much of yourself. If you could do something about it, then you would. But you can't, not if the structure of the house won't let you. Tell the Count that if he must have it in the design he wants, then he needs to tear it down and rebuild –or, to make it easier, he might as well find an empty plot of land and build a brand new house. Don't all nobles want to build new houses on some empty place?"
Erik felt incredibly silly at that point. He had thought of tearing the place down, but to build an entirely new house someplace else? That, he had missed.
"I love you," he said, looking her in the eye.
She kissed him softly. "Yes, dear, I know. Now, finish your meal and come downstairs. You haven't played the piano for me in ages, and I miss it." She then vanished out the door, leaving him to eat.
Obediently, Erik wolfed down his lunch and almost ran downstairs, eager to please his most adorable wife.
AN: Yes, a very dull chapter, but this was all my poor brain could pull off. I'm sorry, but I really think this story is beginning to run dry, and it might be time to pull the plug on it. I might take it down within the next few weeks, and likely won't be updating again before that. An epilogue to A Twist of Destiny will probably be posted after this story comes down, so at least everyone will know how the story of Erik and Lissie ended.
Thanks so much to everyone who has read this story; your support has been much appreciated.
