Disclaimer: I don't own anything Phantom of the Opera (though I wish I did). Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Okay, after much thought (and a lot of friendly advice from some of my friends), I've decided to continue and finish this story. I haven't taken down a story of mine yet, and I'm not going to start now. Thus, this story will be finished, sooner or later. My thanks to everyone for their support.

Also, I will not be updating next week because I'll be on vacation, but I promise to update the week following. Thanks, and enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 9: Surprise Visit:

Thanks to Helen, my days began to get fuller and busier. Between her tea parties, card parties, and shopping outings, I was able to keep myself amused, but not to the point of exhaustion. I even began to do what Helen called "charity work," which was basically a group of rich women sitting in a room sewing shirts for the poor. It didn't seem like much, but no one else had to know that I gave away money to the local churches, so that the poor could also be sheltered and fed. I even gave to the beggars on the corners, though in a more discreet manner.

Since Erik decided to stay in his office and work on his architectural plans, he and I spent our nights together. It didn't matter if we went to the opera or stayed at home with a good book; we were happy just to be near one another.

For over two months we lived this way, and both of us hoped it would last for years to come. Of course, that was when we got an unexpected visitor turning up on our doorstep.


I looked up from the book in my hands to see Nora standing there, a surprised, amused, and somewhat disturbed look on her face. "Goodness, Nora, what's the matter? Monsieur is not in a foul mood again, is he?"

Woe betide anyone who came across Erik in a bad mood! That had been happening a lot lately, since a number of aristocrats had asked him to design (or redesign) their homes for them. Many had given requests or demands that were utterly impossible to follow, and that made Erik angry. Sometimes, Erik could work something out (he was a genius, after all), but in most cases, he couldn't, and that made for him being in a very bad mood. At this point, the servants had long learned to stay out of the way, and wait for me to try and calm him down before approaching.

But Nora shook her head. "No, Madame, it's not that. There is a woman waiting for you downstairs, claiming to be your mother."

The book slipped through my hands as I stared at my maid in shock. My mother, here, right at this moment? She'd never written to us about visiting! What was she doing here?

"Oh, Lord, Nora, do I look alright?" I asked, leaping from my chair in a panic.

She quickly touched up my hair, brushed the skirt of my blue morning gown, and gave me a quick hug to comfort me before leading the way downstairs. I was taken to the main hallway, where my mother stood, eyeing the whole place with a mixture of awe and scrutiny.

"Mama!" I cried, rushing up to her.

She caught me in a tight hug and practically squeezed the life out of me. "Oh, Lissie! You must never do that to me again!"

As we hugged, several servants came and carried her things away to one of the guest rooms. Arnold waited until Mama pulled away before coming up to take her travel cloak, gloves, and hat. My mother looked surprised at the thriftiness, but said nothing as I ushered her to the bright downstairs parlor and ordered tea for us both.

After I'd poured for the two of us, and we'd sipped down our first cups of the beverage, I braced myself for the lecture that was surely brewing in my mother's head. She had that look in her eye, the one that always came before a scolding, so I put some steel into my backbone, and readied myself.

"Lisette Giry, what on earth were you thinking?" Mama snapped, glaring at me as she set down her cup. "Not that I blame you entirely, but for you to wait so long to write me is almost unforgiveable. And to be married away from me and your sisters! Goodness, Lisette, I thought I had raised you better than that."

"And so you did," remarked a calm voice from the doorway.

We both turned to see Erik standing there, a stony look on his face as he came inside and shut the door behind him. He had apparently been dragged away from his art, as his hands, white shirt and black slacks were splattered with paint and bits of clay. Even his white mask has flicks of paint on it, a sign of his love for his work.

Mother glared at him. "And shame on you, Erik! I thought we were friends. I trusted you with my eldest daughter, let her work for you in your home, and you steal her away from me in the dead of night! How could you do it?"

He sighed and took a seat near my feet on a footstool by the fireplace, so that he did not dirty the fine materials of the cushions. "Forgive me, Antoinette, but I could think of no other way of gaining Lissie's affections. Stealing her was all I could come up with at the time."

I blushed and looked at him. "And I must admit, if he hadn't, I'd never have been sure Erik actually loved me. I had always thought that he would find love with another woman in the Opera House."

"Never," he said, taking my hands. "No one else would see me as a man instead of a monster."

Smiling, I reached up and caressed his cheek. Erik's green eyes had softened, but the love that burned there was bright. Lord, I was lucky or what?

Mama snorted. "Yes, well, this is all very lovely, but what am I supposed to tell your sisters?"

I stared at her. "You mean you haven't told them yet? Why not?"

She scowled at me as though I were an idiot. "As your sisters cannot keep a secret like this quiet, I believed it to be unwise in telling them where you actually are, and what has actually happened to you. Presently, Meg and Christine believe that you were called back to my cousin's home to care for him once more. I intend to create a story about you suddenly finding love and moving away from Paris. Perhaps, in a few years, your sisters will mature enough to be told the truth and keep it quiet. When they are, I will inform them of who you are married to."

I shook my head and sighed. Erik, however, looked amused as he got to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, Madame," he said, bowing his head politely to my mother. "I must wash up before a few of my clients arrive."

"Clients?" Mama asked as Erik left the room. "What does he mean by that?"

I shrugged and poured her another cup of tea. "Erik's architectural hobby has caught the attention of Venice's elite. Most of them have hired him to redesign their summer homes, or to help them build entirely new ones in a more modern style."

She stared at me in disbelief. "The elite have hired Erik to design their homes? Do they so easily accept him?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, offering her a plate of small sandwiches. "In spite of his hunting accident," I gave her a significant look, "he has been generally accepted by the rich and aristocratic. After all, his savings has put him on equal financial standing with most of them."

Mama took the hint and kept quiet, though she sighed in frustration. She knew where Erik had gotten his money from, but now that he had a respectable way of making a living, she couldn't really object.

"So what do you do, now that you live the life of a wealthy woman?" Mother asked, glancing around the room. "Do you sit around and do nothing, like most of them?"

Most people in the Populaire had grudges against the rich patrons, if only because they were rich and we were poor. I had been happy in my line of work, but many others had wanted more, though they didn't want to work hard to get it. Even Mama had wanted to rise up a bit in the Populaire, but since she couldn't, she'd trained her daughters to try and become great in one skill or another.

"I do attend the tea parties and such, but I've also become involved in some charity work," I told her. "Though in my opinion, what they call "charity work" is not enough charity, or work. I'd like to do more than sew shirts and give the occasional coin to the beggar on the corner."

"I've no worries that you will," Mama declared. "Now, while my mind is still with me, I need to inform you of a few things."

She had received a message from Erik over a month ago, and it had taken that long for her to pack up all of his belongings and get them to his contact in Paris. Everything (barring his precious organ) was on its way by train, and due to arrive within a week. My things, however, were already upstairs in the master bedroom, waiting for me to unpack it. I silently prayed that Nora hadn't already attacked the containers and begun sorting through them.

"Thank you for bringing everything," I said as we wrapped up our tea. "Would you like to see your room? I'm not sure which one they put you in, hopefully its one of the larger rooms with a fireplace. I know how you hate being chilled."

I gave my mother a quick tour of the downstairs, and was rewarded with her surprise, awe, and interest in the layout and the décor. When we reached the upper level, I pointed out my private parlor, Erik's study and workroom, and the master bedroom. I proceeded to take her to the guest hallway, and into the first room we came across, which had the door standing open. I was relieved to find that Mama's trunk had been opened, and her belongings unpacked for her.

My mother, however, was not pleased. "I would have liked to unpack my things myself," she said with a scowl.

I could tell that she wanted to make things difficult, probably as a form of punishment for my frightening her so. Well, I had to put a stop to that, before Erik's patience was put to the test, and a fight broke out between him and Mama.

"Mother, if the servants have nothing to do, they become agitated," I gently told her. "They hate standing around, especially since they want to earn their pay."

She snorted in disbelief. "You had better not let them cheat you, Lissie."

That was her exhaustion talking. Now that she had arrived in Venice, been fed a good tea, and had her things unpacked, she probably needed a nice quiet rest in a warm bed.

"Mama, why don't you take a nap?" I gently suggested. "Then you can join us downstairs for dinner. Or if you're still wary, I can have it brought up to your room."

She looked ready to protest, but thought the better of it. "Perhaps you are right. I would like a rest after all that traveling. I will try and join you for dinner later."

I nodded and left her to sleep, heading down to the kitchen to inform Deborah that there would be a third person to dinner, a person who would probably be with us for quite some time.


My mother did join Erik and me for dinner, just like she'd promised. Italian cuisine didn't seem to please her much, but she ate what we did, and in the end, Mama admitted that she did like the creamy sauce served over the fish. She also liked the dish of gelato that Carlos put before her, if only because it was a trio of flavors, and one of them was chocolate, which went well with the berry and orange flavors.

Thankfully, the conversation at the table was decent, for the most part. Erik thanked Mama for sending his "art supplies" to the villa, and she replied that it had been no trouble. Erik and I spoke of the weather in Venice, and all of the balls, parties, and gatherings we'd been to, while Mama listened and ate her meal.

After dinner, when we'd retired to the solitude of the library for drinks, Erik gave my mother the shock of her life: he asked her to stay at the villa permanently, so that she could retire from life at the Populaire.

She'd stared at him for a few minutes, and I'd fully expected her to either accept, or lecture him for treating her like a weak old woman. However, she surprised me by thanking Erik for his offer, and declaring it impossible for her to leave my sisters, at least for a while.

"First, I have to be sure that Meg attains the place of prima ballerina in the Opera House," Mama explained. "That should not be long in coming, for the current prima ballerina is growing slower in her movements. She has also been exchanging glances with one of the older male patrons, so she will likely be wed before long.

"Second," she continued, "there is the matter of Christine and her suitor."

I perked up in my seat. "Suitor?" I had a hunch as to who it would be, but wanted to be sure.

"The Vicomte de Changy," Mama proudly replied. "No doubt I'll soon have two daughters well married, which is something I've always hoped for all of you. When Christine is wed and Meg settled into her place at the Populaire, I shall retire. Until then, you will have me for the next few weeks, while the Opera House is between performances."

Then Mama and I began talking of going out shopping and to the local eateries while she was here. Erik suggested a few nights at the theater or the opera, to give Mama a chance to see what they looked like from the audiences' perspective. She glared at him, but I could see the amusement in her eyes as she lectured him on how he shouldn't tease his mother-in-law.

"Good heavens, you are my mother-in-law," Erik said, leaning back in a chair with a glass of brandy in his hand. "Why didn't you warn me, Lissie?"

I glanced over at him in mock surprise, and very real amusement. "I thought you were the genius. You should have figured it out sooner, rather than later."

Mama rolled her eyes and made as if to speak, but was interrupted by a knock on the library door. I called for the knocker to enter, and Nora popped in. "Your pardon, Madame Garnier, but a message has arrived from Lady Russell. It was late being delivered, and it seems she'd like a reply as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Nora," I said, rising from my seat. "Now, the two of you be civil while I'm gone. I don't want to come back and find the library looking as though a hurricane has gone through it."

Erik put on an innocent look, but Mama turned and looked at my maid. "Who is that girl?" she asked.

"My personal maid," I replied. "Nora, come say hello to my mother, Madame Antoinette Giry. She arrived today from Paris." Nora came and curtseyed politely, though I could see both women sizing each other up.

"A personal maid, Lissie?" Mama asked. "If you do nothing for yourself, you will become spoiled and lazy."

Nora looked offended and angry. "I assure you, Madame, your daughter does most of her preparations herself; I merely help with the more complicated hair styles. She is nothing like the company she keeps, and is the most generous and kind mistress."

My mother looked at her in surprise, then respect. "Well said," she replied. "Go on, Lissie, you mustn't keep that messenger waiting."

I hid a smile as I followed Nora out of the library. Lately, my maid had become more like a guard dog: fiercely loyal, and very protective whenever we went out into town. I attributed this to the gifts we gave her and the other servants for their hard work. Sometimes Erik gave a little bit of extra coin, or some of the foods that almost ended up going into the trash. Erik and I felt it a shame to waste perfectly good food, and whenever Erik and I had plenty of leftovers, we had it distributed to the staff, who were more than happy to take it home to their families, or eat it themselves.

As she was one of those who took things home, Nora was determined to show her appreciation and loyalty to us, her employers. Her parents lived with her father's sister and her family, all in one modest house. Nora's wages went to support herself, and a bit went to her mother and father, but it was difficult to feed a large family, so Nora was always grateful for the food we gave her. It was good, wholesome stuff, and she always said that her family was growing healthier and stronger because of it.

"Mama can do chores now without her bones creaking, and Papa isn't nearly as tired as he used to be," she'd told me last week. "My cousins have the strength to go out and play, when they couldn't before."

When Erik heard that, he threw together a few wooden toys and gave them to Nora, asking her to give them to her young cousins. He did the same for the rest of the staff who had children, and they all loved him for it. The toys weren't fancy, but they were strong enough to put up with rough play, which was all our workers asked for.

"Fancy toys are for fancy children," they said. "Ours live rougher lives, and they play hard with their toys."

All of the servants drew the line at accepting money, though. They wouldn't accept any extra money unless they felt they deserved it, which I thought was admirable. However, when Christmas came around, I had every intention of giving the staff a little bonus for all of their hard work.

That's not to say that the servants didn't thank us in their own ways for our generosity. I was occasionally slipped a piece of news or gossip that would never have reached my ears otherwise, and most of that news was very useful to have, so at least I didn't go into a gathering completely out of the gossip loop.

In my parlor, I read the note that Helena had sent me. It was an invitation to a small, intimate party tomorrow evening, and she'd asked me to bring my mother as well. I didn't bother to wonder how she knew my mother was here; Helen had eyes and ears everywhere, just like I had, so it shouldn't have surprised me.

Shaking my head, I wrote a quick reply and sent it off with Helen's messenger. I hoped Mama had a decent dress, but if not, we'd buy one while we were out tomorrow. In the meantime, I needed to get back to the library, before my husband and my mother destroyed the place. Humming, I headed downstairs, my ears listening for the sound of bickering and arguments.

Imagine my relief at finding the room intact and its two occupants sitting silently across from one another. Smiling, I sat next to Erik and accepted the glass of sherry he offered me.

"Now, what shall we talk about?" I asked, smiling.


AN: Okay, kind of boring, but I promise more fun next time. The next update will be in a couple weeks, at most, so hold tight until then. Thanks to everyone reading and/or reviewing!